Red Rocks Page 10

  ‘My love,’ she said to Dad. ‘Why do you keep that little room above the house locked? What is inside that you do not want me to see?’

  ‘It’s just my workroom, Cara,’ Dad said. ‘My computer’s in there. I keep the door locked so it doesn’t get stolen.’ Jake could see that the enchantment was slipping again. For the first time, he saw fear on his father’s face. Dad glanced at him. When Cara disappeared from view and they heard the back door open, Dad whispered urgently: ‘Go. The boat. It’s in the boat.’

  It was as Jake suspected. He lunged for the hall and was out the front door in seconds. As he tore through the gate, he turned to see the door to Dad’s writing room falling off its hinges; Cara had pulled it off with her bare hands. The next moment the computer crashed through the window and clattered onto the roof of the cottage, and all of his father’s papers exploded into the air and swirled around like a snowstorm. He only hoped that Dad could calm her down once she had finished, convince her that what she had overheard was indeed a joke, and that she wouldn’t turn her fury onto him. He ran as though his father’s life depended on it, because it did.

  18

  He had forgotten about the padlock on the boat locker but there it was, staring him in the face. Jake pulled at the doors desperately but they stayed shut, rocking slightly on their hinges. The wind had picked up and it threw grit in his eyes, making them water, mixing with tears of frustration. There was only one thing for it — he’d have to try and break the doors down. He looked around but there was nobody else about to help him, which was probably just as well; he’d have a hard time convincing them he wasn’t just a delinquent breaking into a boat locker.

  He picked up a rock from the beach, light enough to lift, but heavy enough to use as a sledgehammer. Bang! He brought it down on the top of the padlock, scraping his knuckles in the process. Nothing. He did it again, taking more skin off, but urgency made his hands numb to the pain. This time, he’d loosened it a little. Just one more … bang!

  The screws came out of the soft, splintered wood and he was able to wrench and twist until the lock came away properly. He was in.

  It didn’t take him long to find the skin — in such a small boat there were few places to hide anything. The rubbish sack he’d hidden the skin in himself was tucked into the bow, under the anchor and chain. He put his hand inside it to check, and when he touched the soft fur, the smell of it enveloped him. For a moment he felt dizzy and closed his eyes. It was as if Cara was all around him; he felt her breath in his ear, and his heart suddenly swelled with warmth for her. A thought jolted him: what on earth was he doing? Returning the skin to the cave banishing Cara from their lives forever — is that really what he wanted? If he kept it here, hidden in the little boat, then his dad would be happy. He had seen the light in his face when she was around. And Cara could be like another mother for Jake — together, they could be a family. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  Suddenly he thought he felt the skin move, and he tore his hand away. In that very moment, another vision popped into his head: Jessie’s face, telling him to be brave, and then — oddly, for he hadn’t thought of him much — his brother Davey. There was already a real family waiting for him back in Auckland: his mother, Greg, and his little brother. He and Dad were a real family too, in their own way, no matter what. Keeping Cara bound to them would not make them any more of a family than they already were. In fact, when she was around, Jake was shut out.

  He would have to be careful. Now he was in possession of the skin, he was falling under its spell again. He closed the bag and tied a tight knot at the top. Then he crawled out of the locker.

  What was he going to do now? He couldn’t risk taking it back home and giving it to Cara; even walking past the house carried the danger of being seen and intercepted by her. And it was a long walk from Island Bay to the cave at Red Rocks. It could take him the rest of the day. But that would be too long. Who knew what state she was in and whether Dad had managed to calm her down?

  There was only one option, one that scared Jake, but that he knew was his only choice.

  He didn’t know where he found the strength, especially with his bruised wrist, but he tugged at the little boat with his skinny arms, jerking it across the sand and down to the water. The beach was deserted, which was highly unusual — often there were families playing in the sand, or people walking their dogs. It was as if the whole world was staying away, determined to neither help nor hinder him in his task.

  He attached the outboard motor as he’d watched his father do it, strapped on his life jacket, and launched himself and the dinghy into the water, rowing out into the depths. The wind was making the sea choppy but he kept his balance as he put down the oars and pulled the cord of the motor once, then again. It grumbled into life. Jake wished that his dad had had it fixed since the last time they’d been out in the boat, but with all the time he’d been spending with Cara, he wouldn’t have had time. The boat and its motor were the only way though, so Jake set out, now too fast, now too slow, trying to catch a feel for the throttle and fighting the fear in his belly, expecting the motor to fail at any moment as it had on their fishing trip.

  He couldn’t stay too close to the shore, as there were unseen rocks that could tear the bottom of the boat. And yet he worried that the further out he went, the more the pull of the tide might send him out to sea. He manoeuvred out of Island Bay between the island and the empty beach. Cold spray flew into his face and he had a moment of exhilaration, of feeling alone and free. He imagined keeping the nose of the boat southwards and chasing the ferry he could see in the distance, all the way to the South Island and away from the disaster he had created.

  The engine hiccupped and lost power for a second, snapping Jake out of his reverie, but thankfully it soon roared again. He checked the shore to see how far he had come. He had left Island Bay and its bobbing fishing boats behind and was now turning the boat to the west. Away from the shelter of the island the waves grew larger; they slapped the side of the boat and he was soon soaked to the skin. His hands on the throttle stick became numb but he didn’t dare take them off to shake the feeling back into them. He felt he was going quite fast, and yet the shore crawled by, along with the lonely cars in the café car park, the flax flowers that bent in the breeze. The sound of the motor buzzed in his brain, driving him on.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. More than anything, he wished he could lie down and go to sleep, to pull warm, dry covers over his head and wake up to a bright day with no trouble. When he opened them again, the shore had receded, and now he was travelling past the bite of Owhiro Bay, with its rocky sand, the gulls crowded around, looking out at him. He searched for his father’s house — there it was, sitting idle and quiet, with no sign of life. Jake shuddered. Wait! A figure stood on a rock, looking out to sea, watching him. He recognised Cara’s bright red cardigan — but where was Dad? What had she done with him? He held his breath, expecting her to start moving, to run along the beach, or worse, to dive into the water and come for him. But it was as if her feet were part of the rock on which she stood. Only her hair moved in the wind. Perhaps she could sense her skin was on the move, that Dad no longer had it in his possession, but she didn’t follow, only stood with her body straining towards the sea, waiting. Something behind her caught his eye and his stomach leapt inside him — Dad? — but it was the flapping of a curtain that had slipped loose through the broken window of the office. It was as though it were waving him on, urging him to go faster.

  On he went, past the line of houses with their faces turned to the ocean. The car park for Red Rocks came into view. He was going to make it. He was nearly there. Still further, with the great grey cliffs looking blankly at him. He wondered how he must look to anyone standing up there — a small speck on the vast ocean, probably, with a tiny smudge of bright yellow for a life jacket. Insignificant.

  There was Ted’s cabin. The smoke spiralled up before disappearing, stolen by the wind. A figure stood in front o
f the little shack. It was Ted: he raised a hand high and then waved, painting huge strokes with his arms. There was no sign of Jessie. Jake waved back, bolstered by the old man’s faith in him. But as he did so, his cold hand slipped on the throttle and the boat jumped forward like a mullet being chased by a kahawai. He fell back and banged his head on the motor, losing his grip completely. The engine died and Jake was enveloped by the sound of water, all around, clawing at the boat. The wind whistled in his wet ears. He sat up. ‘No, no, no,’ he said quietly to himself. He pulled the starter cord. Nothing. He tried again. And again, and again until his arm ached with the effort. He was being pulled further away from the shore by the tide and if he let himself drift any more he’d be gone in no time.

  Jake picked up the oars and, with shaking hands, jiggled the rowlocks into place. Then he began to row. He had made it this far, most of the way, now he had to rely on his physical strength to get him there. His wrist was still sore, and doubt crowded into his mind — how on earth would he do it? He’d only learned to row last summer, had only just moved beyond turning the boat in circles and having no control over its direction. Plus, he was weak. Those older boys had spotted that fact a mile off, had pushed him around like a dandelion in the wind, and he had let them. How could he gather the strength to get him the last part of the way?

  19

  All Jake had to focus on was the steady pull, pull, pull on the oars, and he surprised himself by cutting through the water like a blade. His arms and shoulders strained with the effort, but he didn’t give up. Every now and then he turned to look at Red Rocks, waiting for him. At first, they seemed to be getting no nearer, but as the sweat began to run into his eyes, he turned again and there they were, blazing red. All that was left to do was negotiate the submerged rocks and bring the boat into shore.

  Jake stopped rowing. He was breathing hard and all he wanted to do was rest, but he was so close he couldn’t give up. The waves buffeted the boat around as if it were made of paper. Jake pointed the nose of the dinghy in between two rocks and pulled on one oar, then the other until he was safely through. The water was thick with clumps of kelp, and it parted sluggishly to let him through. He stood up for just a second, to scan the rocks for seals, but they were empty. As he lowered himself back into his seat, a wave picked up the boat and tossed it sideways. There was an almighty scraping sound, and the tearing of wood. It was just as he had feared would happen: he had hit a rock, and the boat was stuck fast. Water began to lap at his feet as it filled up, and he was going to have to act fast. He had his life jacket on; he could do it. He would swim the rest of the way.

  He stood up, crouching for stability, with the rubbish bag tucked under his arm, and stared into the surging sea. The water in the boat covered his sneakers now. He took some deep breaths to try and calm himself; he was shaking uncontrollably, and not just from the cold that caused his limbs to stiffen in pain. It was now or never.

  Jake jumped. He had thought the life jacket would keep him above the surface, but the weight of his body dragged him under for a moment before he popped up, coughing. The shock of the cold had made him inhale as he hit the water, and he panicked, nearly dropping the sealskin. He clung to the boat to get his bearings, and to gather his courage. His heart was still beating fast. It was time to let go and swim.

  It was more difficult than he imagined, because he only had one useable arm. He floated on his side, with the sealskin clutched under his left arm, while he crawled with his right arm and frog-kicked his legs. Something touched him under the water and he gave an involuntary yell, but it was just the slimy tentacles of kelp, which felt as though they were trying to wrap themselves around him and pull him under. He kicked himself free. He was so tired, felt so desperate, as he rose and fell helplessly with the swell of the sea. Suddenly a wave broke and crashed over him, slamming him into a rock. His mouth filled with salty water and pain rushed up his shoulder. He couldn’t go on. He used the last of his strength to crawl up onto the rock, where he lay, panting and coughing, fighting tears. He felt pretty sure that he was going to die here. He lay, listening to the pounding surf and, high above him, the keening of seagulls. The sun came out from behind a cloud and the warmth of it hit his back. He opened his eyes and stared at the rubbish sack. Beads of water sparkled on it. He was so close he could almost see his face in each one, if he just closed one eye and focused …

  *

  He must have dozed off. He was woken by a dog nudging his face, breathing its hot breath on him. He pushed it away. The rubbish sack was a comfortable pillow under his head, and he just wanted to sleep for five more minutes. But the dog was insistent. Its whiskers tickled his face. He pushed it away one last time and sat up. He had forgotten where he was for a moment.

  There was no dog. Instead, he found himself looking into the dark, liquid eyes of a seal, twitching its whiskery snout. He lurched back and nearly tipped himself into the water. The seal turned and dived below the surface. Jake stood up and looked at how far he had to go — he was much closer than he had thought. The clouds had stolen the sun again and the sea was a sullen grey. He picked up the sealskin, wincing with the pain in his shoulder, and lowered himself gingerly into the sea. He hadn’t meant to rest, and he didn’t know how long he had been asleep — probably only a few minutes — but it was enough. He felt ready to go again. The water became sheltered and calm as he got closer to shore, and soon he felt solid ground under his feet. Relief swept through him. He was safe.

  The wind was sharp when he took his life jacket off, but it restricted his movement on land, so it had to go. He located the slit in the rock, and scrambled to the entrance of the cave. He stopped and looked around. There were no seals on the rocks nearby, but when he looked further out he saw dark shapes bobbing in the surging water, and he knew he was being watched. He shivered.

  Jake dropped to his knees and held the bag with the sealskin in front of him as he crawled into the hole. He inched forward bit by bit, with the rocks digging into his knees. All his senses were alert — if there was something, or someone, in there already, he was going to just drop the bag and make himself scarce. But he got to end of the tunnel and heard and felt nothing. It was warm in the cave, despite his wet clothes. He felt faint and thirsty and wished he had food or water with him.

  In the darkness, the sealskin slipped out of the bag. He held it tightly, buried his fingers in the damp fur. He could not bring himself to put it down. Instead, he hugged it fiercely and thought of Cara. Her face appeared in his mind, so beautiful; he could see every feature as clearly as if she stood in front of him now.

  It’s just the spell, he thought, and fought it with every instinct he possessed, even though the enchantment was telling him to hold tight and never let it go. But he managed, by sheer force of will, to put the skin down, and he gasped as his hands came away; it was if he was tearing off his own skin. And as he did so, a ripple went through the air around him, like a great sigh, and he turned his face to the light outside, and knew that he and his father were free. He only needed to back carefully out of the cave and return home.

  As he emerged, blinking, into the light, he froze: he heard voices, laughter, and something else, a groaning. A seal! He crouched where he was, hiding from it. The last thing he wanted to meet coming out from the cave was a seal. Then a stone thudded down next to him, narrowly missing his shoulder. Slowly, he rose up to peer over the rocks. He stopped. The back of a small seal appeared before him. It was sitting upright, swaying back and forth, clearly distressed. And then he saw why. He recognised the hulking shape in the brown hoodie and the blonde spiky hair: jeering at the seal and throwing stones were the two boys who had stolen his bike. The seal looked mad, but as it advanced to defend itself, Mark, the bigger of the boys, threw a fist-sized rock, which hit the seal on the head. Stunned, the animal staggered backwards.

  Jake couldn’t stop himself. ‘Hey!’ The seal turned and looked at him, just as another smaller stone glanced off its neck. Jake jumped
up from his hiding place and ran on his tired, quivering legs, past the seal and right up to the two boys. ‘Stop it!’ he shouted. ‘You’re hurting it!’

  The boys looked surprised to see him; they’d obviously thought they were alone. They smelled of cigarette smoke, and their hands and faces were grubby. Mark’s pale cheeks flushed when Jake approached, and he turned to Dan. They nudged each other and forced laughs.

  ‘You’re like a bad smell, you are, popping up all over the place.’ Dan narrowed his already small eyes so they nearly disappeared into his white lashes. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

  Jake didn’t know what he was going to do about it, but he planted his feet firmly and stood between the boys and the seal. When Mark bent to pick up another stone, Jake lunged at him and knocked it from his hand.

  ‘Oi!’ shouted the boys in unison. Dan stepped forward and pushed Jake hard, toppling him backwards. His tailbone landed sharply on the rocks and the pain winded him for a moment. He felt sick to the stomach. But he pulled himself to his feet and resumed his defiant position — feet apart, arms folded. His shoulder still hurt and his wrist throbbed from where he had fallen yesterday, but he dampened it all down.

  ‘I said, leave it alone.’ He felt shaky inside, but his voice did not betray him and it sounded calm and firm.

  Dan picked up another rock, and Jake was sure he was going to be the target this time, but Mark caught his friend by the arm. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘This guy’s a loser anyway.’ Jake thought he had intimidated the boy, but he soon saw what he was looking at — the wheel of Jake’s bike was poking out from behind a rock. Dan shoved Jake again on his way past, but this time Jake didn’t fall down. The boys swaggered over to where the bike lay and gave two vicious kicks to the wheels, breaking the spokes with a crunch. Then they seemed to change their minds and picked it up. Together the boys made off with Jake’s precious bike again, whooping as they ran.