Transformation of Minna Hargreaves, The (16 page)

‘Good girl,’ Dad said, still in that calm, slow voice. ‘We’re going to pull you up. Let go. That’s it. Well done. Use your legs to keep out from the cliff if you can.’

I dangled, swinging over sharp rocks.

The next few minutes were not the pleasantest of my life. The rope cut into my back and under my arms. I dangled and couldn’t do much to protect myself from the bumps and scrapes, but my mind hovered somewhere outside my body. It wondered if Dad and Noah would be strong enough to hold me or if they’d let me plummet to the bottom.

They didn’t. First, Noah reached down. ‘Give me your hand, Min.’

Then Dad grabbed the other one. They played swapsies. No, wrong. Dad now had both my hands and Noah was out of sight but since the rope was taut he probably was still hanging about. No, that’s right. Me. I was the one hanging about.

‘Min.’ Dad was speaking like I was a two-year-old idiot. Maybe he thought I was. ‘I’m going to pull you up on the count of three. Okay?’

‘Anything’s got to be better than this,’ I said, but Dad had got to three.

Wham! My arms jerked, stretching all the socket tendons and there I was, sprawling on the track.

That was not at all what I’d been expecting.

Dad gathered me up in the hugest hug. ‘You idiot. You stupid, daft, crazy idiot. I should beat you till you’re raw.’

‘Dad, look at her leg.’ Noah’s voice had a touch of urgency about it.

‘It’s not broken,’ I said. ‘I could stand on it. Hurts though.’

Noah’s face was an interesting shade of grey. ‘But look at the blood! She’s bleeding to death.’

Dad snapped, ‘She’d be dead by now if she was bleeding to death. Let’s have a look, Min.’

I was vaguely interested myself. Noah, however, turned his head away. Funny — he could kill a fish, but not look at a bloody leg. ‘Where’s the fish?’ I asked.

Nobody answered. Dad put both hands in a tear in the leg of my overalls and ripped. There was a gash above my knee and scrapes and grazing below it. ‘You’re bloody lucky this didn’t hit an artery,’ Dad said. ‘You’ll live.’ He sounded sorry.

I dropped my head. It felt like the wound was inside me, somewhere around my heart. But then he hugged me again. ‘Christ, Min — you damn near died. Idiot, you crazy idiot. I ought to belt the living backside off you.’ But he held me tight and I could feel the thumping of his heart. The soreness around my own heart vanished.

He let me go. ‘We’ll put something over the leg to
stop the bleeding till we get you home.’

Noah handed him his T-shirt. Not the last word in an antiseptic dressing, but who was I to complain? Dad folded it into a pad but now we needed something to tie it with. ‘Have to be the bra, Min,’ Noah said.

Smart-arse. Did I prefer him when he’d been too stoned to have such bright ideas? But the bra it was. I filmed Dad tying it on even though my hand shook. Dad breathed deeply a few times but didn’t utter any of the words choking him.

They helped me to my feet and stood me up between them, an arm each around me. ‘I can walk,’ I muttered.

They ignored me. Just as well. Leg hurt like hell and I couldn’t put much weight on it. It was a long, long way up the path.

The wind caught us at the top so that the walk to the house wasn’t much easier.

Mum was waiting on the verandah. Dad and Noah eased me down on to the verandah seat and took off my boots. Noah lifted the camera from around my neck.

‘Inside with you,’ Dad said, helping me to my feet — foot.

‘Cold,’ I muttered.

‘You’ll be okay soon,’ Dad said. ‘Lie down here and I’ll fix that leg properly.’

Somebody had put a mattress beside the wood-burner. I folded myself carefully down on to it. Still cold.

‘Min!’ Mum whispered. She tucked blankets around me and put a hottie beside me. Dad lifted my leg and propped it up on something.

‘That’s right. Shock. Foot above head,’ I said, and I smiled at them. Nice. All of us here and being friendly. What more could a girl want?

A clean wound, apparently.

‘She needs antibiotics,’ Mum said, still in that ghostly whisper.

‘Have to make do with disinfectant and sterile water.’ Dad. Talking to Mum. Nice.7

I shut my eyes. It was lovely here in the warm. Better than on the beach. I could hear birds outside hopping on the wooden floor of the verandah. Birds smelled better than seals. No, maybe they didn’t. Fairy prion burrows smelt bad too. Nice to be warm again.

‘Ouch!’

‘Sorry,’ said Dad, not sounding it. ‘But we have to clean it up. God knows when this wind will stop. We have to keep this free of infection till the chopper can get in with antibiotics.’

Still cold.

Mum helped me out of my overalls and into PJs. ‘There’s a graze on your shoulder too.’

‘Can’t feel it. It’ll be all right.’

But no, it had to get the clean treatment too.

It was dark by the time they’d finished patching me up.

They had dinner. I didn’t want anything. ‘Not hungry.’ And I was still cold.

I slept that night on the floor beside the woodburner. Dad dragged his mattress in. ‘To keep an eye on you,’ he said.

I couldn’t be bothered telling him I wasn’t intending to go anywhere. Then, what do you know — Noah turned up dragging his mattress as well and once we were all snug in bed, Mum drifted in with a duvet and settled down on the couch.

‘We didn’t eat the fish,’ I murmured.

I heard sharp intakes of breath from Dad’s direction, and then from Mum’s, but all Dad said was, ‘I’ll cook it tomorrow. We’ll have it for lunch.’

Happy families. All you had to do was nearly kill yourself and, hey presto, you had talking parents again.
Almost worth it.

My leg throbbed when the night was deeply dark and the wind roared overhead. I sat up to see if that would help. Dad woke up and brought me a couple of painkillers. Then he helped me hobble out to the toilet. ‘I reckon that’s what I’ll like best about being home again,’ I said. ‘A proper loo.’

Dad chuckled. ‘You’ve done well though, Min — apart from the cliff episode. I’m proud of you.’ He gave me a hug then opened the loo door for me.

I hopped inside. He was proud of me. Well, well, Minna H — how about that? Something to remember when we got home and he disappeared forever.

I was shivering when we got back to the house. Dad refilled my hottie, opened the door of the burner to let the warmth out and tucked me up. ‘Night, Minna. Sleep well.’

I gave his hand a squeeze. ‘Night, Dad.’ I turned my head away, but he must’ve seen my face in the glow from the embers.

‘What’s wrong? Is your leg bad?’

I shook my head. ‘No. It’s okay.’

He stroked my hair. ‘What, then?’

‘Nothing — just, it’s nice having you around is all. I’m okay. Thanks Dad. Go back to bed.’ Not the time to start a fight, and anyway, I didn’t have the energy.

But he didn’t get mad. ‘I’ll be around, Min. How many times do I have to say it?’

I sighed. Sleepy. ‘Yeah, but you’ll be like a lighthouse. It won’t be like here.’ My eyes wouldn’t stay open. I didn’t even hear him slide back into his own bed.

Life lurched back to normal in the morning. Dad hauled Noah out of dreamland and made him put the mattresses away. Mum sat up and smiled at me. Dad ignored her.

I examined my leg. The most massive, technicolour bruise with a dash of white tape down the middle that held the skin together. ‘Wicked!’ said Noah.

Dad pointed at the table. ‘Sit there, the pair of you, and listen to what I’m going to say.’

Noah pulled a face and glanced at me. ‘Uh oh, here comes the lecture.’

‘You’d better believe it,’ Dad said, plopping himself down on the other side of the table. ‘You do realise, I hope, that it’s only by a miracle we’re not planning your funeral today, Min?’ None of the TLC from the night was hanging around right now.

‘Yeah, Dad. Sorry.’

He swivelled his eyes to skewer Noah. ‘Son?’

‘Yeah. Ditto.’

Dad breathed out very slowly. ‘Let me make it clear: you have to think of the possible consequences in a place like this. You didn’t.’ His serious-father stare took in both of us.

There wasn’t much else to say except sorry, which we did but that didn’t seem to be enough. He got up, then remembered something. ‘Min — what did you mean last night?’

‘Huh?’ I couldn’t remember much of the night. Certainly couldn’t remember saying anything he couldn’t understand.

He frowned and I suspect he was wishing he hadn’t
brought it up. ‘The lighthouse comment. You said I’d be like a lighthouse when we get back.’

Noah grinned. ‘Shock, Dad. Don’t worry about it. She’s just lost another marble.’

Dad ignored him. ‘Min?’

I shrugged. ‘Well, you will be. Like the light, I mean. All or nothing.’

That caught Noah’s attention. ‘Right on, sis.’ He grinned again, at Dad this time. ‘You’ll swan in, ask a million dumb questions, take us somewhere dumb, pretend we’re all having a frigging party and then
vroom
! Gone again.’

Dad pushed his chair back into the table with a decided thump. ‘Bloody kids. Who’d have ’em?’ But we both noticed he didn’t contradict us.

He banged pans around in the kitchen. Mum appeared. Dad shot her a swift glare and kept working.

Lunch was heavenly. Dad stuffed the fish with herbs and baked it whole in the oven. Noah created a slight ripple by remarking that it was worth nearly killing me to get the fish but, apart from that, harmony reigned. Mum didn’t sit at the table, but she hadn’t ever since we’d been on the island. She did manage to eat more than a couple of teaspoonfuls of the fish, however.

We all told Dad how magnificent the meal was. He grinned at Noah and me. Didn’t react at all to Mum’s comment, but I thought I detected a softening. Things could be looking up.

For the next few days the wind blew hard, and Dad kept obsessively disinfecting my leg. I put up with it because I figured I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if I
complained, ha ha.

Dad made Noah go down the path and haul up the gear and the yacht. Noah went, without one moan.

Okay, so maybe we had learnt our lesson. I’d never tell Dad, but I damn well wasn’t sorry we’d made it down to the beach. What a blast.

And when I tested my heart, I found that the pain was bearable — not pleasant, but bearable. It was more sadness now than pain, but I was pleased that when I thought about Lizzie I still wanted to smash her. Bitch. Traitor.

Dad and Noah went back to the chopping and hacking routine. I hobbled around feeding the chooks and doing most of the other stuff. Life went on, my leg got better, but possibly my career as a swimsuit model was out the window. Would they want a model with a fifteen-centimetre scar down her thigh?

Mum still spent most of the days lying down, but she was sketching a fair bit. Feeling much better, she said, but she still didn’t eat a lot so who knew what better meant? Mental note: never have kids, Min.

‘The olds are not so bitchy,’ Noah said about a week after the cliff episode, when we were both away from parental ears. ‘Wonder if we should drop you off another cliff.’

I gave him a shove. ‘Your turn this time.’ But it was true. They still didn’t chat to each other, but things were definitely less tense. ‘You reckon they’ll get it sorted before we go home?’

Noah shrugged. End of conversation. God, I missed Jax and Addy but not Lizzie. Except I did in a weird sort
of way. She was crazy, she was out there, she was Lizzie. But we were finished. You couldn’t come back from such a huge betrayal of trust. So why did I want Dad to talk to Mum? I ought to understand why he wouldn’t, but I still wanted him to. Bloody life — why did it have to be so hard?

October helicopter-day arrived. We’d sent in the supply list, crossed our fingers and hoped the weather would behave.

It did — the day was blue and perfect. Dad, Noah and I waited at the landing pad. I hoped with all my heart that Jax and Addy would leap out of the chopper. It swung into sight, reeling above us in the blue day before swooping down.

The door opened, Cara plus camera bounded out. I looked behind her for Jax and Addy, my heart lifting. But next came Dr Hunter and then a man. And that was it. I wanted to bawl but not now, thank you very much, with old Cara waving her camera over us.

Dad moved towards the chopper. ‘Come on kids. Packhorse time.’

‘Who’s the bloke, Dad?’ Noah asked.

Dad shrugged. ‘Nobody I know.’

Cara stopped, so did the man. Dr Hunter went on towards the house. Cara said, ‘This is Robert Chisholme.’

Dad put out a hand for him to shake, but Robert Chisholme didn’t take it. He looked Dad in the eye and said, ‘You’d better know straight up — I’m the father of your wife’s baby.’

Cara: (filming like crazy)

Noah: (mouth open like dead fish)

Me: (no breath left in body)

Dad: (whirls round and spits at Cara) Turn that bloody camera off or I’ll throw it over the cliff and you after it.

Cara: (goes pale and turns camera off)

Dad: (exits swiftly towards other end of island)

Robert: (stares fixedly into distance)

Noah shut his mouth and said, ‘Come on, Min. Grab the boxes. There’s ice cream in there.’

I stumbled towards the chopper. It was like walking in some awful wasteland where nothing was solid. ‘Why did he come?’ I whispered.

Noah heaved a box into my arms. ‘Dunno. Good television, I guess.’

Bloody Cara. God, I hated her.

We lugged the supplies back to the house. ‘I don’t want to talk to him.’ I stopped at the gate.

Noah kept walking. ‘Don’t then.’

I followed. Cara and the man were in the lounge. He stood away from her, his arms folded tight across his body. Good. He didn’t like this any more than we did. Serve him right. Cara smiled at us in her bright, brittle fashion and asked, ‘So what’s been happening?’

I couldn’t look at her. ‘Why did you do it?’ I muttered. ‘That was so mean.’

He — Robert — sent me a tight-lipped glance.

She ignored me. ‘Noah?’

He kept on hunting through the box till he found the ice cream. Only then did he look at her. ‘Nothing,’ he said. He ratted around in the cutlery drawer, grabbed a
couple of spoons and grinned at me. ‘Come on, Min. Let’s eat ice cream. Outside.’

I followed him on to the verandah. We slid the doors shut behind us, leaving just enough of a gap to hear any informative conversation.

‘Bitch,’ Noah said and dug into the ice cream. Double chocolate ripple.

I picked up my spoon. I’d never be able to eat it. My stomach hurt. I filled the spoon and licked at it. It was good. Noah ate his way through most of it.

‘Leave some for Mum,’ I said. We both knew Dad wouldn’t reappear until dark and maybe not even then.

Cara made a couple of bright, cheerful remarks to
him
. He didn’t respond. This island was full of pissed-off men, but he only had himself to blame so that should cheer him up.

Dr Hunter came out and sat down beside us. ‘She’s doing well and she wants me to check out your leg, Minna.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said. I pulled up my trouser leg to show her. All but the last of the bruising had faded and the cut was healed.

‘Excellent,’ the doctor said. ‘I guess you’ve already been told how lucky you were?’

I nodded. She patted my knee and didn’t say anything about the man. Noah asked, ‘Did you tell her
he
was here?’

‘Yes,’ said Dr Hunter, and that was all.

We sat in the sun together and watched the sea while Mum’s ice cream melted. Noah drank it.

Cara bustled out, followed by the man. ‘Well, goodbye,
kids. See you next time.’

‘Not if we see you first,’ Noah muttered. I didn’t say anything. They left.
He
strode ahead of her and I hoped she liked filming his back view. We watched the chopper leave from where we still sat on the verandah. Mum didn’t show. Dad didn’t show.

Back to normal.

Shit.

Noah helped cook dinner. He did the sausages, I did spuds and the hugest salad. Mum had a nibble of spud. No sign of Dad.

‘Why did he come, Mum?’ I asked.

She rubbed both hands over her face, sighed and then put her hands down and leaned back into the couch. ‘He wants to be part of the baby’s life.’

I stared at her. ‘He can’t! Does he want to
marry
you? Mum, you can’t!’

Noah thumped the table and muttered.

Mum closed her eyes. ‘Of course he doesn’t want to marry me — and anyway, I wouldn’t. But he says it’s his baby and it deserves a father.’

I yelled at her. ‘Well so do we, but thanks to him ours is a gone-burger.’

Mum didn’t say anything. What was there to say?
Sorry, I’ll make it better
would be a good start, but she couldn’t and I knew it.

I packed up food and left the house in search of Dad. Found him. ‘Thanks Min. Put it down there, will you.’ I did, and left him. He had that look on his face that says
I want to be alone.