Changeling's Island - eARC (8 page)

So she brought one out to them. “Hi, Tim. Hello, Mr. Harrison. Did you have a good time?”

“Fantastic! This is my mate Jon McKay. I see you know our champion fisherman.”

Tim looked slightly embarrassed, but pleased. He nodded. “Hi, Molly. I was lucky today.”

“Lucky as all get out,” said McKay. “He took to it like a duck to water.”

“And he nearly caught a shark.” Harrison held his arms at full stretch. “It was towing the boat.”

“Nearly pulled us under,” said McKay cheerfully. “And Mally was yelling ‘Cut the line, cut the line’ as we went skiing along. Good thing it came off, or we might have been in Perth by now. Tim was standing up in the bow like Captain Ahab, holding on, hauling it in, saying ‘it’s only a tiddler…’ while Mally was begging and weeping.”

“Ha,” said Mally, gesturing widely. “That was you. I said we might make a new round-the-world record, and to hold tight. It was bigger than a blue whale. Maybe two blue whales.”

“Aw, you blokes!” said Tim, grinning. “It wasn’t that big.”

“It was a good fish, though. Get up and pass us the Esky with fillets in it, Tim,” said McKay.

Tim actually ran to do it. Molly had never seen him look so lively at school. He struggled with the icebox. He wasn’t the biggest of boys, and it was obviously heavy. You wouldn’t think so, though, by the way Mr. Harrison’s friend McKay took it.

“How many did you get?” They were beautiful big fillets.

“Fifty-five.”

“I thought you said we’d caught our bag-limit?” said Mr. Harrison.

“No point in taking all the fish in the sea,” said McKay. “Leave some for next time. Besides, we’d still have been gutting, and the sea is a lot worse now. It gets up pretty fast around here. How many do you want, Mally?”

“Well, if I could freeze a few to take home, it’d be nice. Some for tea tonight. But we’ve got abs and that crayfish you gave me, and we’re only here for two more nights…”

“So what did you need sixty fillets for, then?” asked McKay. “I want about twenty fillets, to stock the freezer and to give a few fresh ones to my neighbor. Tim’s grandmother will want some for the freezer, but that’s still plenty.

“My gran doesn’t have a freezer,” said Tim.

“Good grief. We couldn’t live without ours,” said Molly’s dad.

Molly couldn’t help noticing that Tim cringed a bit. He obviously wished he hadn’t said anything. “Dad. You did promise me you’d take me up to my babysitting,” she said, partly because it was true, and partly to change the subject.

“So I did. Is it that time already?” He looked at the tools in his hands. “Doesn’t time fly when you’re having fun?” He grimaced. “We’ll take what fish you can spare, guys. And there is space to freeze a nice batch for you to take home, Mr. Harrison.”

“So who are you babysitting for?” asked Tim as the fish fillets were divided up.

“More like child-minding really. Troy and Sammy Burke. They live just over the hill. In that big posh place with the all-glass front up the hill, a bit toward your gran’s place. They’ve got a fantastic view.”

She wondered what made him cringe about that too.

* * *

“You wouldn’t like a job for a few hours?” asked McKay, as they drove up the track from Molly’s parents’ place. “Nothing interesting. Just scrubbing down the hull of a boat. But I’ll pay you…oh, fifteen dollars an hour. I think that’s the going rate for young’uns.”

Tim nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.” For a start, he didn’t want to go back to the farm, where he’d be working anyway. For a second thing…he didn’t have any money at all. Not that there was anything to spend it on. For a third thing, he’d rather liked Mr. Jon McKay and his friend Mally. Being out on the boat and fishing was some of the best fun he’d ever had, and he’d have done the boat scrubbing for nothing, just for a chance to go to sea with McKay again.

“I feel a bit guilty taking you away from your gran and the farm, but I really need to get this boat finished, and your gran’s coped without you up to now. Amazing old bird, she is, running that place on her own. She must be glad to have you to help.”

Tim hadn’t seen any signs of her being glad. But then she’d lent him the flask. And she had said “welcome.” But she was crazy, talking to invisible people. He said so. Maybe…

“Heh. I do that myself. You should always talk to the most intelligent person around, and a lot of the time it is just me.”

During the afternoon Tim found out a fair bit about the abalone diver. The first thing he found out was that McKay had no plan to sit still and do nothing while Tim worked. After a while, Tim decided that McKay didn’t really know how to sit still. He worked next to Tim, scrubbing and scraping the hull of the wooden boat. It was an old Cray boat that McKay planned to fit out with live tanks for prawns—a new idea that he wanted to try out. There was music from a CD player and they talked as they worked, about fish, about diving, about sharks, and about McKay’s on-and-off girlfriend, and about his own trips to the island as a youngster.

And the man worked hard. Tim tried to work just as hard, but by the end of two hours he felt like his muscles were jelly. He was relieved when the abalone diver looked at his watch and said, “Right. I’d better get you back. You’ve done well, youngster.” He stood up, pulled off the safety goggles and mask, and hauled his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

Tim wanted the money. But he realized that he wanted other things a bit more. “Look, it’s fine. I had a great day, and I’m happy to do this anytime if you take me to sea.”

McKay laughed, pulled money out of his wallet. “I don’t go out fishing that often, Tim. Just when my friends come over from the mainland, really. But at the price of a flight over here, that doesn’t happen that often. They’d rather go to Bali or Fiji with fifty thousand other people. Crazy. But you can come out someday when we go ab diving. It’s pretty hard work, mind you.”

“Really? Oh, wow! That’d be fantastic. I’d love that. I…I don’t mind hard work.” That was true…if it was doing this sort of stuff. “But you don’t need to pay me.” His grandmother’s words about being useful and learning came back to him. “I need to learn.”

“You’ll go far with that attitude,” said McKay, handing him the money. “Far, and stay broke. Take it. I can afford it, and we’ve got a lot done. There’ll be other jobs if you want them. There’s always work on the island if you’re reliable and work hard. Now let’s get you back. Your gran will be wondering if you’ve drowned.”

Tim folded the cash carefully and put it in his pocket. “Anytime you need help. And anytime I can go to sea…”

The diver grinned. “Right. You really liked that, did you?”

Tim nodded. “It was the best ever.” To his surprise, he wasn’t just saying it. It had been.

He didn’t say much on the trip from the boat shed back to the farm. He was tired. Gran was pleased with the fish, though. “I get some off the beach, but not as big as these,” she said, touching the fillets. “Yer thanked Mr. McKay?”

Tim nodded. “Yes, Gran.”

“Not more than ten times,” said McKay. “Right. I’ll be seeing you, then.”

And he drove off. “Fresh fish and chips for tea,” said Gran.

Fish and chips had been fairly low on Tim’s list of take-away meals, back in Melbourne. But this didn’t taste even a bit like that. This would have beaten chicken tikka pizza, any day, hands down.

Tim had eaten, washed and fallen asleep, and the world, even Flinders Island, seemed a fairly good place.

It was too good to last, though.

CHAPTER 8

Being woken up the next day was hard enough. He’d have slept until midday if he’d been allowed to. He really didn’t care if the cow needed milking.

Unfortunately, the cow did, by its bellowing. And his grandmother had decided he had to do it.

He resented that. He resented her holding his money a lot more. “Where did you come by this?” she asked.

“It’s mine!” She must have gone through his pockets while he was asleep!

“And how did you come by it?” she asked, not showing any signs of giving it to him.

“Mr. McKay gave it to me for working on the boat. I told you I did that. Anyway, it’s got nothing to do with you,” he said crossly.

“You’re in my care. It’s got everything to do with me,” she said grimly. “Well, follower, does he speak true?”

She wasn’t even talking to him, daft old bat.

And then she handed it back to him. “See you put it safe. That’s a lot of money to be taking from a man who did you a kindness. And the cow needs milking.”

“I don’t want to milk the cow.”

“It’s not what you want. She needs to be milked and her udder is sore. You’re hurting her, and the calf, with her crying. What has she done to you? I don’t want to make your breakfast but it needs doing. And breakfast needs milk.”

So Tim had gotten up and put the money in his pocket again. He wasn’t leaving it here. How could she go through his stuff? What did she think he was? A thief? A shamed part of himself said “probably” and knew that he had been one. He had just been lucky. He looked at the room, the non-working laptop, at his island prison outside the window, where the cow was bellowing. Sort of lucky. He was sore and his hands were stiff. But the cow was glad to see him. She had big soft eyes, with long eyelashes.

He was still resentful. Still angry, even if he had to be calm and gentle with the cow; you had to be, milking. He didn’t want to be here, milking a cow. He couldn’t hate the cow. The bull-calf was another matter, maybe, if it didn’t shut up. McKay had said there were always jobs to be done. Well, he’d do them. Do the jobs, earn money that he’d have to find some way of keeping his crazy grandmother from knowing about, giving him a rough time about. He’d worked really hard for that money. If he got enough he could use it to buy a plane ticket out of here. His mother wouldn’t actually turn him out again if he showed up at home, would she? And there were plenty of schools that weren’t St. Dominic’s. Otherwise, well, he could get a job…on a boat or something. He knew he couldn’t really until he was sixteen. But he could tell them he was. Deep down he knew that wouldn’t actually work. It was just a cool dream. But he wanted to have that escape possible, the minute that he could. Or…if the story of what happened in Melbourne all came out at school, or something. Anyway, it might take him until he was sixteen to save the money up. He didn’t know what the flights off the island cost. He just knew it was a lot. He’d have to find out. Meanwhile, he’d just have to pretend to be cooperating. Being good.

He didn’t
feel
good.

Still, he worked on the farm that day and went meekly off to school on Monday. He had to admit it wasn’t actually bad at school among the zombies-of-the-island. He could almost have been enjoying it a lot more than St. Dominic’s, if it hadn’t been for the worry that they’d find out about why he’d left there. It was just such a different world here. They would never understand why he’d done…stuff. Tagging. And the shoplifting thing. They were all just so…good. Well, not really good, but not the same kind of not-good. The sort of dangerous side to Hailey that had attracted him just wasn’t there, in any of them.

At first he kept the money in his pocket. But he was worried about losing it, as he didn’t have a wallet, and he wasn’t going to spend any of the money on buying that. Mum could have sent him pocket money at least. It wasn’t fair.

He found a little Ziploc bag at school. It had probably had had some kid’s lunch treat in it. He didn’t care. It was clean and was better than nothing. He kept it under his pillow at night, and in his pocket during the daytime.

He was getting along better with Molly, too. They shared the bus trip, and they were the oldest ones, on for the longest. Only two of the littlies came from farther out than they did. Molly read on the bus when they’d let her. She was popular with the two kids from Killiekrankie, and with Troy and Samantha Burke. She had looked after most of them. “Babysitting is my pocket money. The B&B doesn’t make as much as Dad thought it would, and there is only so much computer work going. Mum’s been cleaning holiday houses to help. I felt bad after I heard them talking about it. It was awful. Besides, like, I want a new computer. I was collecting nautilus shells to sell before, but I’ve only found three, and no perfect ones.”

They ended up talking about computers because it was easier than talking about money. “My laptop is on the blue screen of death,” said Tim gloomily.

“Let me give it to my dad,” she’d offered. “He fixes them. Well, he swears at them a lot.”

So he’d brought it in and given it to her.

It came back the next day, which was Thursday. “My dad says how anyone had so many things unplugged in a laptop that still had all its seals intact is a mystery to him. He reconnected your power supply. There was nothing else wrong with it, besides an old battery.”

“Wow. Thanks! Yeah, it doesn’t hold a charge for long,” admitted Tim. “But now I can at least plug it in and play a game on the weekend. My gran doesn’t even have TV. She listens to ABC on this old radio.”

“We get really bad TV reception anyway. So are you going to the show tomorrow?” she asked.

“No. What show?”

She stared at him like he’d turned green. “You really mean you don’t know? It’s the Flinders Island Show. Everyone goes. There are, like, art competitions and veggies and wool, and there are a load of stalls from off-island selling things.” She colored slightly. “I’ve got a painting entered in the landscape section. Mum bought me the painting stuff out of her cleaning money.” She giggled. “Dad wanted to enter his broccoli, but it all started flowering. He’s not much good at gardening really. Great with computers, but he wants to grow veggies.” She bit her lip. “I could ask my parents if they could give you a lift. You can’t miss it. It only happens once a year.”

“I could ask my grandmother. But she’ll probably say no.”

“Well, if she doesn’t…look, I’ll phone if they say it’s okay. Or get my mum to call. That might be easier. They always like to interfere anyway.”

“Well, she’ll say no. But thanks. Have you finished the
Wheel of Time
books?”

She nodded. “It’s just brilliant how he put it all together. He must have planned it all before he even started.”

“I kind of lost it at book six…”

And they got involved in talking about books, until they arrived at school.

Tim wondered, that day, how he’d missed knowing about the Island Show. No one did much work, and he heard quite a lot about it.

And to his surprise, Molly’s father phoned Nan. And she said he could go. She even gave him five dollars from the tin box under her bed. Tim saw her pulling it out as he walked past.

* * *

Tim’s first take on the Island Show had been dismay. Five dollars to get in! He hadn’t known there was going to be an entry charge, and all the money he could get was for getting off the island…and then Molly’s mum had paid it for him so casually, while he was still feeling the blood rush to his face.

He gritted his teeth. Dug in his pocket. Nan obviously hadn’t been anywhere for so long that she still thought five dollars was a fortune. He’d planned to put it with the rest of his money. Just look around. He held out the note. “Here’s mine.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Symons said.

Like he didn’t know they were scratching the bottom of the barrel a bit to survive. “No. I must. Really.”

“Call it payback for…for keeping me calm on the plane,” said Molly.

Tim had been getting quite good at reading her voice. She understood his embarrassment, and that was worse. “Thank you,” he said, awkward and gruff.

It was odd walking across to the buildings from the car park. Tim realized he wasn’t used to…the sound of so many people. Yeah, the kids made a noise on the playground at school. But other than the teachers and Nan, and Mally and McKay, he hadn’t really heard a bunch of adults talking since he left Melbourne. Noisy mob, he thought, smiling to himself at his own reaction. Compared to Sandring Mall, which he’d never even thought of as noisy.

“Hi, Tim!”

It was one of the younger kids from school. He thought Tim was smiling at him. Huh. Tim started to scowl, and then changed his mind. “Er. Hi.”

The kid didn’t notice. “Have you seen those big ball thingies you can get into? They’re
so
cool! Yeah, Mom. I’m coming.”

The last part wasn’t addressed to Tim, and the kid ran off. But it was just the start. Everyone greeted them. And half of them stopped to talk. They all seemed to know who he was, and several of them asked after his nan. They hadn’t even gotten halfway to the big old sheds that everyone was heading for. Their familiarity left Tim feeling even more uncomfortable. And yet…no one treated him like dog mess under their shoes. “Takes a long time to get anywhere,” he said, after the fourth stop.

“It’s strange, knowing everyone,” nodded Molly, understanding. “I felt like I was getting inspected at Ccustoms at first. I didn’t like it much, but you get used to it.”

“I guess.” He’d realized that in two weeks he’d gotten used to quiet, to the noises of the bush on the farm. He’d never thought that would happen.

“And then when you go back to Melbourne and greet people and they look at you like you’re about to mug them,” she giggled. “Daddy nearly caused a couple of crashes, waving at cars over there.”

They’d arrived at the door to the first big shed. The Lions Club—so the sign read, were frying donuts. And the smell of hot oil, the hiss and pop of frying, and the prickle of cinnamon took him back. He blinked. He hadn’t realized how sharply smells could poke your memories out from where they were hiding. He hadn’t even liked the movies, but Hailey had.

And as if it had all been some kind of magic spell, there she was. Looking bored, with that expression that Tim had learned meant he should avoid her…if he could. But he’d never been able to. “Uh. Hi, Hailey.”

Her expression changed. She smiled. The same teasing smile that had made him take that DVD and hide it under his jacket. That had made him try that spliff. And, just then, he’d have done it all again.

Except…she wasn’t smiling at him. She was smiling at the big guy with the tattoo on his shoulder and the earring who was sauntering through the door, his jeans fashionably low. She walked past Tim, as if he wasn’t there. “Hi, Justin. Daddy flew me over for the show…” They walked off.

Tim knew then that it wasn’t enough just to get together the money to leave the island. He needed to do more. He just wasn’t sure what.

* * *

In the vast and misty halls under Cnoc Meadha, where the rules of time and space are quite different, King Finvarra’s host feast, drink, dance. Sometimes they will ride and sometimes they will hunt. Sometimes they will fight too. To the high ones of the Aos Sí, this is life. Sometimes in their timelessness it palls a little. They will intrude on the human world. Humans are amusing to them, in the way humans find pet monkeys amusing. Monkeys that could be enchanted.

It is a rare human that finds the charms of the hollow lands of the Aos Sí pall on them. But then, their lives are short.

Áed did not miss it much. But then the feasting, womanizing and finery were not for the lesser spirits such as Áed. They were bred to work, much as sheepdogs are, and while the great ones could weave glamour and work spells of power in the underworld, Áed liked the change and the challenge out here, and even the weakness of his master. Given a choice, Áed would remain in the wind and wild of the world above.

Few humans, though, once the magic of Faerie had touched them, were strong enough to make that choice.

* * *

Molly had met Hailey Burke before, introduced by the delusion that some adults had that because you were both girls who were not too far apart in age, and who lived near to each other out in the Whoop-Whoop, you’d naturally be the best of friends. It had been
dislike
at first sight from Molly’s point of view. They had almost nothing in common. Molly had decided Hailey was a horrible little airhead who had never read a book in her life, but was a faithful follower of fashion and celebrities. By the way they’d never met up again, it seemed Hailey hadn’t liked her either.

Watching Tim’s reaction to meeting her here, and Hailey ignoring him, just made her feel sorry for Tim and want to slap Hailey. He just looked like such a hurt puppy. But he had seriously bad taste.

They’d walked around the photographs and painting and embroidery. He’d emerged from his dismals enough to tell her that he really loved her sea picture, and his gran’s veg would lick anything they had here.

But she could see that his mind, and his heart, was elsewhere.

It was pretty irritating, really.

* * *

When Tim got back to the house, his grandmother was out somewhere. He was glad of that. He was glad of the silence of the farm. He didn’t want anyone. He didn’t want to talk either. He’d done that. Made polite conversation. Molly’s parents were okay. A bit weird, and asking far too many questions about his family. He didn’t have a clue how long there had been Ryans on the island. What did it matter, really?

At least they’d stayed off questions about his mother and father. Or too much about Melbourne.

He sat disconsolately on his bed for a bit. Then thought he might as well play some computer games. His head was too all over the place to read. What he really wanted to do was to go fishing or to do something exciting…but he’d play a game or two. Starcraft just didn’t grab him right now. He had a CD of stupid old first-person shooter games in his bag that he’d been given for his birthday by his mother, who didn’t understand games and had found these really cheap. A couple of them were quite good, even if they weren’t new. That might do.