Night Beach (12 page)

head,
seeming
relaxed
in
every
way
except
for
that
blank
voice.

‘Oh.’
I
pause,
not
really
sure
what
to
say.
‘That’s
good.’

‘Yeah.’

‘So
did
things
go
okay
between
you
guys?’

His
gaze
shifts
to
me
and
he
draws
his
teeth
across
his
bottom
lip.
I
stop
breathing,

afraid
I’ve
put
my
foot
in
it.

Then
he
says,
‘Nuh.’
And
he
gives
me
his
hyena
laugh,
the
one
that
lights
up
his
face
and

sounds
slightly
deranged.
I
love
that
laugh;
it
makes
me
smile.
‘But
what
are
you
gonna

do,
hey?’

He
turns
his
attention
to
the
screen,
flicking
back
to
his
barrel
shot
and
then
forward

again
to
Matty
Kenda’s,
as
though
comparing
the
two.
‘These
are
good.
These
are
the

money
shots.
That
island
.
.
.
I
tell
ya,
that
island
was
where
it
all
.
.
.
’
His
voice
trails
off

and
he
squints
at
the
screen,
rubbing
a
hand
over
his
shorn
hair
as
though
trying
to

remember
something.

Then
he
mutters,
‘The
smoke.’

‘What?’

Kane
hasn’t
heard
me.
He
seems
to
be
locked
inside
his
own
head,
and
he
draws
a

jagged
breath.

Then
he
blinks,
coming
to.
‘Yeah-‐no,
what?
Still
jet-‐lagged.’
I
hear
him
swallow.
‘What

were
we
talking
about?’

‘The
island,’
I
say,
feeling
uneasy.

‘Yeah
.
.
.
the
island.’
His
legs
start
jiggling
again.
‘Didn’t
think
we
were
gonna
make
it

there,
hey.’

‘Why
not?’

‘Aw,
Marco
had
a
hard
time
finding
a
boat
that
would
take
us.
Basically
had
to
bribe
the

locals.
And
then
there
was
all
this
extra
hassle
because
Toby
made
us
late,
and
they

didn’t
want
to
go
at
night.’

‘How
come?’

He
gives
me
this
look.
‘It’s
forbidden.’
Then
he
flickers
his
tongue
at
me
in
a
way
that’s

suggestive,
and
I
laugh,
looking
down
at
my
hands
so
that
my
hair
hides
my
face.

He’s
quiet,
and
I
just
know
he’s
waiting
for
me
to
look
at
him.
But
I
can’t.
I’m
frozen.
God,

why
do
I
get
like
this?
Why
can’t
I
give
it
back
to
him,
the
way
I
would
if
he
was
one
of

the
guys
from
school?

I
hear
his
chair
scrape
across
the
tiles.
A
moment
later
his
lips
are
pressed
against
my

ear,
and
he
whispers,
‘
’Cause
that’s
when
the
bad
demon
shit
happens.’

I
duck
away,
tingling
like
I’ve
been
given
an
electric
shock,
giving
another
dumb
laugh.

But
when
I
glance
at
him,
Kane’s
not
playing
around
anymore.
He’s
rubbing
his
hands

together,
all
business.

‘Better
get
up
there,
I
s’pose.
See
old
Brazza
and
Mazza.’

‘Aren’t
you
cold?
Do
you
want
a
jumper
on
or
something?’

‘Yeah,
righto.
Give
us
a
sec.’

He
heads
into
his
bedroom,
switching
on
the
overhead
light,
which
cuts
the
gloom.
I

study
the
photo
of
Matty
Kenda
for
want
of
something
better
to
do.

From
the
bedroom,
I
hear
spraying
noises
and
then
drawers
being
opened.
I
click
back

to
Kane’s
barrel.

I
take
it
back
one
more
and
see
a
beach
at
night,
figures
silhouetted
in
front
of
a
bonfire.

I
pull
up
the
previous
shot.
This
one
is
of
Toby
A.
I
recognise
him
immediately
and

wonder
how
I
could
have
mistaken
Matty
Kenda
for
him,
because
apart
from
shaggy

dark
brown
hair,
they
have
nothing
in
common.
Toby’s
younger
–
Kane’s
age
–
and
more

muscular.
He’s
lying
asleep,
or
passed
out,
on
the
sand,
his
face
golden
in
the
light
from

the
fire.
He’s
shirtless,
and
there’s
a
mag
with
photos
of
naked
women
lying
open
on
his

chest,
and
one
of
his
hands
is
stuffed
down
the
front
of
his
board
shorts
–
arranged,
I

think,
just
like
the
seven
cans
of
beer
positioned
around
his
head.
The
word
‘Defiler’
has

been
scrawled
across
his
forehead
in
black
ink.

‘You
right
there?’
Kane’s
voice
is
sharp
and
it
makes
me
jump.

‘Sorry,
I
was
just
looking
at
the
photo
of
you
again.
It’s
amazing.’
I
sound
sheepish,

embarrassed,
and
while
I’m
saying
it
I
click
forward
twice
to
reach
his
barrel
shot.

Kane
walks
towards
me
until
he
can
see
the
screen
and
when
he
does
his
face
relaxes.

‘Um,
we’d
better
go
up.
They’re
probably
waiting,’
I
say.
‘Are
you
sure
you
don’t
mind

me
using
that
room
for
my
painting
stuff?’

He
backs
away.
‘Does
that
mean
you’ll
be
down
here
a
lot?’

‘No.
Well,
sometimes.
But
it
doesn’t
have
to
be
when
you
.
.
.
I
mean
.
.
.’
My
voice
trails

off
and
he
probably
thinks
it’s
because
of
the
way
he’s
grinning
at
me.

But
it’s
not
that.
Kane’s
standing
near
his
bedroom
doorway,
his
shadow
spilling
across

the
tiles
to
the
side
of
him.
And
it’s
not
how
it
should
be.

The
painter
in
me
clocked
it
straightaway.
It’s
too
black.

And
it’s
the
wrong
shape.
How
weird.

Frowning,
I
walk
towards
him.
But
then
he
turns
the
light
off,
and
the
laptop
is
the
only

light
source
in
the
room.

‘It’s
pretty
dark,’
I
say
redundantly,
stopping
short.

‘Lights
off
for
Earth
Hour.’
Something
in
Kane’s
voice
reminds
me
of
how
close
he
stood

to
me
at
the
ute.

‘Earth
Hour
was
in
March.’
My
voice
is
warbling.
Not
cool.

He
smiles,
backing
away
again.
‘Better
late
than
never.’

Then
he
disappears
through
the
doorway
to
the
stairs.

He’s
playing
with
me.
I
get
that.
But
not
following
through
would
be
like
watching
half
a

movie;
I
want
to
know
what
happens
at
the
end.
Because
he’s
broken
up
with
Lauren

and
once
there
was
Christmas
and
right
now
my
skin’s
too
tight
for
my
body.

I
cross
the
floor
feeling
like
I’m
walking
along
the
sharp
edge
of
a
knife.

The
darkness
in
the
stairwell
is
complete.
The
light
there
doesn’t
work
–
faulty
wiring;

the
place
is
full
of
DIY
electrics.

There’s
not
even
any
light
coming
through
the
top
doorway.

Because
it’s
a
big-‐deal
meal,
Brian
will
have
dimmed
the
chandelier
over
the
dining

table,
and
turned
off
the
light
in
the
lounge
room,
lighting
the
candles
on
the

mantelpiece
instead.

I
can’t
hear
anything.
Does
that
mean
Kane’s
just
gone
up
without
me?
It
occurs
to
me

that
he
probably
has
and
I
feel
humiliated.
I
should
turn
around
and
switch
on
the
light

to
the
downstairs
living
area.

If
I
had
any
pride,
I
would.

I
don’t
have
any
pride.

I
put
my
arms
out
in
front
of
me
and
slowly
walk
forward,
sliding
my
feet
across
the

carpet
with
a
shushing
sound
so
that
I’ll
feel
the
edge
of
the
stairs.
If
he’s
gone,
how
did

he
get
up
the
stairs
so
quickly?
You
can’t
see
a
thing.
God,
my
heart
is
beating
fast.

My
left
foot
hits
the
bottom
stair
and
I
pat
around,
finding
the
banister.
Once
I’ve
got

that,
it’s
easy
enough.
I
start
climbing.
With
sight
removed,
all
my
other
senses
come

alive.
I
can
hear
muted
operatic
wailing
and
my
own
too-‐loud
breathing.

Then
I
stop
breathing,
because
I
feel
like
I’m
being
watched.

When
the
banister
starts
to
curve,
I
know
I’ve
reached
the
middle
landing.
I
slide
my

foot
forward
until
I
hit
the
front
of
the
next
step.
I
can
smell
something
burning.
My

hand
tightens
on
the
railing,
but
I
don’t
move,
because
I
suddenly
have
the

disorientating
feeling
that
I’m
not
in
the
stairwell
at
all.
Or
rather,
that
the
house
and
the

world
as
I
know
it
have
dropped
away
from
the
stairwell,
leaving
it
stranded
in
another

place.

A
place
that
is
too
dark
and
too
quiet.
Endless.

And
I
can
sense
something
behind
me.
Something
that
isn’t
Kane.

My
shoulders
hunch.
My
legs
start
trembling,
feeling
like
they’re
about
to
give
out.
I

squeeze
the
railing
hard.

Then
something
blows
in
my
ear.

‘
What
are
you
doing?’
Kane’s
voice.
Amused.

I
shriek,
batting
at
him
with
my
hands.
‘Oh,
you
idiot!’

‘Me?’
His
arms
wrap
around
my
waist
and
he
half-‐lifts,
half-‐marches,
me
up
the
stairs
in

front
of
him.
‘You’re
the
one
just
standing
there.’

‘Yeah,
but
you
gave
me
such
a
fright.’

‘I
know.
You’re
shaking.’
He
squeezes
me
tighter,
and
his
strength,
the
warmth
of
his

body,
make
me
weak
in
every
wrong
way,
which
I’m
sure
is
his
reason
for
doing
it.

We
come
through
the
top
door
and
I’m
blinking
and
flushed,
glad
the
lighting
is

subdued.
The
gas
heater
is
going
and
it’s
much
warmer
than
downstairs.
As
Kane

marches
me
towards
the
dining
table,
all
I
can
see
are
glittering
lights,
and
beyond
them

the
deep,
dark
sea.

Brian
and
Mum
are
in
the
kitchen,
discussing
the
division
of
the
fish
like
it’s
a
military

operation.
Kane
only
lets
me
go
when
we
reach
the
table.

‘Now,
who’s
having
wine?’
Brian
asks,
as
though
there
are
fifty
of
us.
I
don’t
know
why

he’s
asking.
He’s
already
opened
a
bottle
of
white
and
there
are
wineglasses
set
out
for

Mum,
him
and
me,
so
it
looks
like
it’s
all
been
decided.
There’s
a
beer
glass
set
in
Kane’s