Footprints (14 page)

Harper, his head down, nods. He glances up.

Sgt. Chase is still looking at him.

Harper grins. “Then, as Anderson drives through the gates – boom! He's got a flat.”

“Who'll mend it?” says Drumgold.

“Well...” Harper starts.

“And who'll pick up the nails you've scattered around?” Drumgold goes on.

“Okay, not Anderson,” Harper concedes.

“You bet not Anderson,” says Drumgold. “He'll tell Droopy and Diamond Head to get it fixed while he gets in
AA2 and drives away. Then Diamond Head and Droopy will get the breakdown truck out here to fix the tire, and they'll have a good time fooling around cleaning up the nails, and Anderson will think it was just bad luck getting a flat. Not a bad idea, Harp, but it won't move the action closer to Anderson.”

The Back River Front had been out of action for nearly two weeks when Harper arrived home one afternoon after cutting lawns to find Drumgold and Isora waiting for him in his driveway, grinning. He suspected they'd seen one another during that time, secretly. He didn't mind. He can't think of them as separate beings. Even in his most intimate fantasies of Isora, Drumgold is there, somewhere in the background, inhibiting him.

Now the Front is hiding in the woods opposite the gates of the cottage again, trying to decide on the next move in the campaign to open the beach.

“How about I call the cottage, or his office, and pretend to be a hooker, and leave a message?” says Isora. She giggles. “I'll tell him what a nice time I had the night before and ask when he wants to see me again.”

Drumgold laughs, but says, “Who'll be most upset...just supposing anyone believes you?”

Isora confesses, “Mrs. Anderson, I guess.”

“And Anderson will think he's some kind of cool stud, although he knows it never happened.”

“But we have to do
something
, or Anderson will think he's won,” says Isora.

“He has won. So far,” says Drumgold. “We haven't even touched him. We have to make him realize we mean business, and that he's going to get...hurt...if he doesn't open the beach. We have to make him realize what's happening isn't accidents, and that it's going to get worse until he gives in.” He stares at
the cottage and goes on, “Remember all that cardboard and straw and stuff we saw when we hid in the barn? Let's set fire to it, like we should have done while we were in there.”

Harper points out, “First we'd have to get in the grounds, and then we'd still have to get in the barn.”

“We could get in the barn the same way we did before,” Drumgold muses. “But how could we get in the grounds?”

“Not like last time,” says Isora. “We're not going to get away with climbing up the rocks from the beach and jumping over the wall and running through the garden again.”

They're about to retreat into the woods when they hear the rumble of a heavy vehicle. An Eastern Oil truck rolls into view on the Old Beach Road and stops at the cottage gates. Curtis is driving. He waits for a few seconds, then reaches for something in the cab. He jumps out and opens a compartment in one of the gate posts.

“So that's how you get in when Droopy and Diamond Head aren't around to open the gates,” says Drumgold. “You punch in an entry code. If we could find out the code.”

“I know how to get it,” says Isora slowly.

Drumgold and Harper look at her.

She goes on, “I'll wheedle it out of Curtis.”

Drumgold scoffs, “And just how d'you think you're going to do that?”

“I'll...I'll get a ride in his oil truck and ask him.”

Drumgold snaps, “No. No way.”

Isora folds her arms and cocks her head at him. “I suppose you've got a better plan for getting the code.”

“I'll think of one.”

Isora scoffs, “You can think from now 'til Christmas and you won't come up with anything.” She takes Drumgold's hands and says softly, “It'll be easy. We pretend I'm looking for
a ride into town when Curtis is delivering oil. We can easily find out when that is because Eastern Oil posts delivery dates on their web site. That's how Dad knows when to put money aside for it. All I have to do is wait on the highway, on the city side of the Old Beach Road, so Curtis will see me before he delivers to the cottage, and I'll hitch a ride with him.”

“Get picked up, you mean,” Drumgold growls.

“Hitching a ride doesn't mean getting picked up, not the way you mean it.”

“What counts is how Curtis will see it. And you can bet he'll think it's a pick up.” He pulls his hands from Isora's grip.

“You're jealous,” she says.

“I don't want you getting in over your head.”

“I won't get in over my head,” Isora insists. “I'll just sweet talk him–”

Drumgold spits, “Sweet talk!”

“I'll sweet talk him into telling me the code when he stops at the cottage.”

“And if he won't tell you?”

“Then I'll find out...some other way...somehow.”

“How?” Drumgold challenges.

“I'll think of something.”

“And get yourself in a whole load of trouble.”

“I can take care of myself,” says Isora.

Drumgold snorts.

Harper shakes his head.

A week later, at nine o'clock in the morning, the friends wait in the woods beside the highway a kilometre past the Old Beach Road. Isora has called the daycare to say she's sick, and Drumgold's shift doesn't start until the evening. Harper has taken a day off from cutting lawns.

Drumgold stands apart from Isora and Harper, his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground. Harper is watching the highway.

Drumgold says, “It's not too late to admit this is a bad idea.”

Isora goes to him and says, standing close, “I'll be careful. I promise.”

“Call us the moment you get back. We'll be at the camp.”

She says again, “I promise.”

She removes her coat and hands it to him.

He says, “You don't look like you.”

“That's the idea. I need to look older.”

She's wearing a very short black skirt and a red blouse with the top three buttons undone and has made her face up with lipstick and eye shadow.

Harper says, “Here he comes.”

The truck is several hundred metres away, behind a slow moving car. Isora starts for the side of the road. The car slows, the driver, a man, looking at her. Drumgold steps quickly from the woods. The man sees him and drives on. Drumgold scrambles back into the shelter of the trees.

Isora reaches the gravel shoulder, puts one hand on her hip, and holds out her thumb.

“First I have to stop at the Anderson cottage,” says Curtis.

“Then I'll take you into town.”

As the truck turns from the highway into the Old Beach Road, Isora, glancing behind, catches a glimpse of Drumgold and Harper, watching from the woods at the side of the road where Curtis had stopped for her a few seconds before.

When he reaches the cottage gates, he says, “I'm going to have to leave you here while I go in. They don't allow anyone in the grounds without clearance.” He says it proudly. “It's more
than my job's worth to have you seen with me.”

“I'd
love
to see in the grounds,” Isora says. “Can't you get me in for a peek? I could sort of lie low so no-one'd see me.” She slides forwards in her seat so that her head is below the level of the window. “Like this.”

Curtis' eyes rest on her legs, where her skirt has ridden up. “I guess you might be worth the risk, but keep your head down unless I say it's okay to take a look around.” He grins. “But there's a price.”

“What's that?”

“A date. How'll that be?”

She glances at him, smiles, and looks quickly away.

He says, “Is it a deal?”

She nods, her head still turned away.

Curtis, looking at the gates, says, “I guess the security guys are too busy to open up. I'll have to get the gates myself.” He pulls a scrap of paper from his pocket, muttering, “I can never remember these numbers.”

Isora breathes, “Oh, wow. You have a
code
– like a
secret code
– to get in!”

Curtis smirks and taps the paper. “There's not many have this kind of security clearance from Mr. Anderson.”

Isora manages a surreptitious glance at the figures.

Curtis jumps from the cab and swaggers to the gates. Isora grabs a pen from the dashboard and scribbles the code in the palm of her hand.

After making the delivery and allowing Isora to peer from the window because no-one seems to be around, Curtis says, “It's time for my break. How about you and me get a coffee?”

He pulls out from the Old Beach Road and turns towards Back River.

Isora shakes her head.

“Come on. I know a nice little bar near here that serves a good cup of coffee this time of day, where you and I can have a quiet talk, eh?” He winks.

“I can't.”

His voice hardens. “Why not? Boyfriend won't like it?”

She shakes her head. “I just can't. Anyway, I don't have a boyfriend.”

He puts his hand on her arm. “One cup of coffee. Chat for ten minutes. Where's the harm in that?”

His grip tightens and she says without thinking, “Dad would kill me if I went in a bar.”

He releases her.

“How old are you?”

“How old do you think?”

“I'll tell you what I think. I think you're a little girl who's afraid of getting herself into something she can't handle.”

Her cellphone rings. She ignores it. She knows it will be Drumgold.

Curtis says, “Aren't you going to answer it?”

She takes out the cellphone.

Drumgold says, “Where are you?”

“On the way to town.” She looks at Curtis and smiles. “I'm with a friend.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. See you later.”

She puts the phone away and Curtis says, “Boyfriend?”

“I told you. I don't have a boyfriend.”

“Your dad, then...checking up on his precious little girl.” Curtis' eyes are narrowed. “First you can't go to a bar because Daddy won't approve. Then someone calls to check up on you. How old did you say you were?”

“I didn't.”

“I want to know.”

Isora arranges her face in the coquettish smile she's seen on the faces of models on the covers of the men's magazines in the drugstore. “Old enough.”

“For what?”

“That's for you to find out.”

Curtis grins. “So let's go get that coffee.”

“I'd like to, really, but I just can't, not now.”

“Another time, then. Don't forget we've got that date.”

She smiles. “Okay.”

They don't speak as they drive to Back River. Isora can see Curtis' eyes moving between the road and her legs, in the short dress, as he drives. She pulls the hem down as far as it will go. Three times he rests his hand briefly on her knee.

As he turns from the highway in to Back River, she says, “You can drop me here.”

He says, “I don't make my dates walk home. Where do you live?”

She says the first thing that enters her head. “Hill Farm subdivision.”

He drives to the subdivision and says, “Which house?”

They are approaching Harper's house. She points and says, “Here.”

Curtis pulls up at the end of Harper's driveway.

Isora says, “Thanks for the ride,” and jumps from the cab.

She's about to slam the door when he says, “So, now you owe me, eh?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

“And I'll be collecting.”

“Okay.”

“Tomorrow.”

She looks up and down the street and behind her at Harper's house, afraid that someone will see her and word will
get back to her father that she's been hitchhiking.

He says, “Well?”

She says quickly, anxious for him to go, “Okay.”

“Seven o'clock. Riverside Café.” He winks. “Then we'll go some place more exciting.”

She nods and sets off up Harper's driveway, wondering how she'll explain her arrival in the oil truck to Mr. and Mrs. Meating. As she walks around the back of the house, Curtis drives away.

She calls Drumgold and says, “I'm back.”

“Are you all right?”

“'Course.”

“Did you get the code?”

“'Course.”

“Brilliant. Where are you?”

“In Harp's backyard.”

“What are you doing there?”

“It's where Curtis dropped me off. I pretended it's where I live because I was afraid Dad would be home and I didn't want him to see me get out of the truck. Now I'm wondering what I'm going to tell Harper's folks if they see me.”

She realizes she's shaking.

Drumgold says, “Wait,” then, “Harper says no-one's home. Come out to the camp.”

“I can't walk through town dressed like this. I don't know what to do.”

Drumgold says, “Wait,” again. Isora hears him talking to Harper, then, “Wait for us in the house. Harper says the back door's open and his folks are at work. We're on our way there now.”

“Make sure you bring my coat.”

Isora tries the back door. As Harper had predicted, it's
open. She glances at the backyards on each side of the house. No-one seems to be around. She enters, feeling like a thief, and finds herself in the kitchen. The stove and the refrigerator seem bigger and shinier than those in her trailer, and there's a countertop in the middle of the room, with three stools tucked neatly under it. Isora imagines Harper having breakfast there with his parents, the three of them sitting in a row. It makes her think of the three bears, and she feels like Goldilocks as she ventures into the adjoining room and sees three big armchairs arranged in front of the television. There's a full-length mirror in the hallway. When she sees herself – the mini-skirt, the red blouse unbuttoned at the top, the mascara and the lipstick – she runs back to the kitchen and washes her face at the sink.