Sailmaker Read online

  Soon there’s just the sailmaker and me. And Olsen, of course.

  10

  Vern seems to like having me around. Even said something about lads with spirit. Mei reckons you can tell that by my eyes. They flash sometimes, especially when I think someone’s got it wrong. I go out with him to see the cormorants and terns. Basically he just keeps an eye on them, writes notes for when the senior ranger comes round to check. He tells me this story about a tern whose babies got moved. She looked all round her nest and couldn’t find them anywhere. There’s no happy end to the story; imagine trying to find a lost chick among that lot? Vern just says he remembers that poor bird whenever he gets the urge to pick up baby ones.

  He shows me the new walkways that the guys from Correctional Services (that’s the detention gang) made. They did some of the boxthorn clearing too. Watching Vern out here looking at the island like it’s his little kingdom, I can tell he wouldn’t want to leave. He reckons it’s like being on a ship with its sails flapping, so far from anywhere, peaceful and free. I get to measure the rainfall then – there was a bit during the night – five mils – and I write it in this special little book for him.

  ‘Tomorrow we might clean the solar panels,’ he says. ‘The birds make such a mess of them.’

  After tea – pies and chips, Vern pours himself a whisky. Wonder if Gran knows about that? Turns out Vern’s done heaps of things. Was in that old Vietnam War years ago, so he’s the same vintage as Grandad then, maybe older. Grandad just missed the war by a week, he said once. Vern doesn’t say too much about it, just tells me never to go to war if I’ve got the choice.

  ‘Too much bloody killing,’ he says. ‘We had no choice.’ And he pours himself another whisky. ‘No bloody choice and no thanks either.’

  It’s not long after that Vern says we’ll turn in. Olsen seems to know because he winds himself up for the move. Vern’s in the bathroom when I go to wash my hands and at first I don’t realise what he’s doing. It’s just a glance and then I suck in my breath real loud. He’s fiddling with his eye socket! The sailmaker’s taking out his eye!

  ‘What are you doing?’ It sounds blunt but I feel sick just looking at him. I can hardly watch, but I do – in the mirror. Vern opens up his eyelid with two fingers and pops the eye out, just like models do with contact lenses. There’s no blood or goo like egg whites, not like you’d imagine. He puts it in a little blue glass the same shape as his eye. I try not to look at it bobbing there, looking at me from the glass. When he turns to me, one eye socket is totally sunk in on itself, but the other eye is twinkling at me. So that’s why.

  ‘Lost it in the war,’ is all he says.

  Later I roll my sleeping bag out. I can hear Vern in his room, talking to Olsen.

  ‘Here’s your cushion, ol’ son. I brought it in, see.’

  ‘Gee thanks, Dad.’

  ‘No worries, ol’ son, have a good night. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. Heh, heh.’

  ‘You too, Dad.’

  And I can hear him coughing and chuckling. Wonder if he’s got the whisky bottle in there too. Maybe anyone would hear a ghost if they had too much of that stuff. I can just imagine Olsen looking up at him with big doting eyes, his tail moving a bit. Bet he’s on the floor; can’t imagine Olsen jumping on a bed. Poor dog. Doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with him though – just tired.

  Of course I’m meaning to stay awake. I’ve got a torch, shouldn’t be any problem checking out the rats. Just lie down for a bit. You’d think the place would go quiet like a chook shed does at night, but it doesn’t. Makes you wonder how Vern can even hear his ghost with all the cooing and moaning from outside. The wind must have something to do with it. After a while I start to pick out different noises – the gulls, penguins growling and gargling in their bushes, a window rattling in its frame. Guess you would get used to it, living out here as long as Vern has.

  I must be tired, because next thing I know I’ve woken up and I can hear this tapping. I can hear the sea now too, it must be high, swashing on the new wall, but the taps are closer. It’s a touch creepy. Mei would say it’s the ghost for sure. Bet it’s the wind – yeah, that’s it, and I creep out to the kitchen to check. Nothing there. Then I hear the tap again, bit of a scratch as well. At first I freeze when I see the screen door wobble. The wind? I’d better latch it or Vern will wake up. Just then the tapping stops, and that’s when I hear the footsteps outside. The tapping starts again. Get a grip, Joel. I pull myself together and open the screen door.

  There is something there. No one will ever believe me – it’s a fairy penguin. It waddles back a bit when it knows I’m standing there. It sure is brave, considering the place must smell like dog, but maybe they know what sort of dog Olsen is.

  So it’s not rats Vern’s got – it’s penguins. I run back in and get a crust from the bin. I’ve never heard of a penguin knocking on a door before. Can’t wait to tell Vern. It’s not until I’ve wriggled right down into my sleeping bag that I remember something: penguins don’t make the sound of footsteps.

  11

  Dev comes to get me in the morning. He stays and has a cuppa with Vern.

  ‘Hear you’ve got a ghost,’ says Dev, conversational like. And I tell him all about the penguin.

  ‘So he’s been getting into your kitchen, Vern?’ I can tell Dev’s really surprised. Vern’s pouring the tea into mugs. He’s made it in a pot like Gran does if there’s more than her having it.

  ‘Can’t be penguins. Even though you saw one.’ This bit he directs at me.

  ‘It was knocking on the door,’ I say in defence.

  ‘I hear more than knocking some nights,’ says Vern.

  I can’t tell if Dev’s taking him seriously or not. Maybe he isn’t, or else why let me stay? Guess he just thinks Vern needs some company. And there is a lot of noise on the island at night – it’d be hard to work out what noise was what. Look at me – even I thought I heard footsteps. Anyway, can you hear ghosts?

  I thank Vern for everything, thinking I’ll have to come again. I didn’t even hear the clanging in the lighthouse.

  When we put the boat back in the boatshed I go and find Mei. Maybe she’ll be more understanding. She is. We walk down to the rocks near Rogue’s Point and sit staring out to sea.

  ‘So you think it’s just penguins?’ she asks.

  ‘Well, Vern’s right, I guess. Penguins can’t open doors. So it must be rats.’

  ‘How would he have rats on the island?’ And I look at Mei. She’s sharp.

  ‘Jumped off a boat? It’s possible. I’ll have to go again.’ Mei looks worried at that. ‘Do you have to? Mum heard Mrs Houser say Vern Solomon’s an alcoholic.’

  I think about that a second, but I never saw him drink during the day. ‘He’s not—’ and just then Shawn and Prescott are riding along the cliff above us. They see us and stop. Shawn calls down. Even from here I can tell he’s in a foul mood.

  ‘Staying at the island with that old drunk now? Watch out the ghost don’t getcha.’ He laughs while Prescott manages to look like he wishes he was somewhere else for once. How does everyone get to know everything in this town? And so fast.

  ‘Come down here and say that,’ I shout before I remember I’m meant to ignore him. Mei’s getting nervous, but maybe he won’t come. He does; leaves the bike, slides down, stones dribbling behind him, faster and faster until he skids to a halt in front of us. Close, like ten centimetres away from my face. I hate being closed in, even by someone’s face. It’s as if he knows. He moves closer and I can smell what he had for lunch – sardines. Gross.

  ‘My mum wouldn’t let me stay with a crazy geezer.’ So that’s it, he’s jealous. Shawn can see I’m not nibbling; he puts on more bait. ‘See, Dev Eagle and Zoe Trenwith don’t care about you. Just wanted you out of the house so they could be alone.’ He says ‘alone’ like it’s something perverted and that’s when I start to hear the hoof beats in my head – haven’t heard them for months. They’re coming closer. I
try to walk away; Mei’s making encouraging noises, trying to get me out of there. Shawn’s following us.

  ‘You’re such a loser, Bilious – no real parents. Dev’s going. Only Chinky to hang around with now—’

  Suddenly my eyes are blurry. The herd’s back, galloping in, shaking their heads. They’ve missed me. I turn and face Shawn, and I have a go at smashing in that stupid, leering face of his. Blood’s spurting everywhere – can’t tell whose it is; I can’t feel a thing. It’s Prescott who gets us apart. Later, when I can think, I get really surprised about that. He looks worried and Mei’s calling me. ‘Joel, come to my house.’ I go with her – let Shawn make something of that – but he’s had enough and he stalks off with Prescott, holding his nose.

  I feel like such a deadbeat, like a player in a footy team that kicked a goal for the opposite team. I just hope my nose isn’t broken or anything and Dev doesn’t find out. Everything about my neck’s starting to hurt now. My stomach too. I don’t remember Shawn getting the boot in there. I can imagine Dev asking me about it. How did it happen? What was said? What sparked you off? All so he can work out strategies for me not to fight. But how can I tell him what Shawn was saying? What if Dev does like Zoe and thinks I’m a selfish brat wanting to keep him for myself? He’d be glad to go off with Zoe then.

  12

  Back at Mei’s she gets to tell me what she found out at the museum. While Gran was on duty yesterday she let Mei in. I’m still thinking how it must be all over town that the sailmaker’s not fit to live out there by himself. Bet there’ll be a working bee just to get him off the island and into some nice little hostel somewhere. For his own good. Then he would go crazy.

  ‘Guess what?’ Mei says, her eyes shining. I’ll have to tell her about Vern’s eye.

  ‘What?’ I try to grin. It’s hard when you’re worried that your face might puff up. At least there’s hardly any blood – it must have been Shawn’s nose bleeding everywhere.

  ‘I found out about the ghost – it’s all in the museum. Your gran got this folder out of the filing cabinet. The whole story’s there in the log of the lighthouse.’

  ‘The log’s there?’

  ‘Yes, it happened a hundred and fifty years ago. One day the head keeper and his wife and the second keeper went out in their cutter to pick up stores from the mainland, but they never arrived.’

  I give her an interested look and she carries on. ‘A few days later a fisherman found the cutter drifting near Sultana Point.’

  ‘Bit like the tinnie I found.’

  ‘Well, get this: inside was the dead wife of the head keeper. The rudder of the boat was missing, but the boat hook was still there.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘They never worked it out. It was called death by misadventure.’

  ‘Maybe a storm blew up like it can out there. Or something happened to the boat and the guys swam for shore but never made it. It’s always further than it looks.’

  ‘Well,’ and Mei’s got this look on her face like she’s left the best till last, ‘ever since then, there’s been clanging in the lighthouse and they say it’s the head keeper, checking the lamp, just like he used to.’

  ‘No kidding.’ This isn’t looking good. I’ve got to show there’s no ghost, that something else is making the noises Vern’s hearing, so people don’t think he’s losing it. I have to go back and catch those rats. Evidence. You need evidence to get people’s attention.

  I stay at Mei’s the rest of the day. Gran won’t mind; she’s used to me being all over the place. By late afternoon, my face looks okay. Nothing to cause Gran to get out her Dettol bottle, at least. She’ll just think my windsurfer dumped me again.

  I’m coming across the golf course, can see our house through the trees. From here it always looks like the cottage in the woods in those stories Gran used to read to me – the woodcutter and the big bad wolf. I hear Dev roar through his gears as he slows down at our place. He’s got a pillion. Looks like Zoe – jeans, helmet. She jumps off and I start feeling like I’ve just eaten a whole stodgy date pudding. She pulls off the helmet and I’m up to the road now. She’s laughing at something Dev said. Then she turns and sees me and I stand there paralysed. Surely not? Jeans? On a bike – a dangerous bike? Wearing a helmet? My eyes must be like windmills. She calls out, ‘Hi, matey, ready for tea?’

  It’s not Zoe, it’s Gran!

  13

  No one notices my face, or if they do they don’t say anything. It’s not until that night when I turn my bag upside down to get my pyjamas that I see the little white pill roll out. At Vern’s I totally forgot. Gran will freak so I throw it in the toilet. It feels good watching it struggle to stay afloat, swirling round and round, faster, going, going, gone.

  At breakfast there’s another by my plate. I didn’t die yesterday without it. Ha. I swallow this one; Gran pretends she’s not noticing. What a joke – she’s as subtle as a shark in a feeding frenzy. Besides, I’m watching her too – what’s that thing the olds get? Senility? Would it be senility that got Gran on Dev’s bike? Is she old enough? All of a sudden I’m not so sure and it’s real unsettling. She’s spent the last twelve years warning me off stuff like that and now she does it herself. Though Gran can’t be anywhere near as old as the sailmaker. She doesn’t look senile, seems happy enough. You can hardly see those little lines she used to have around her mouth.

  Zoe sits down then and I move my chair away a bit. She looks at me like she wants to ask me something. It’s enough time for me to get my mental runners on. Then she comes out with it.

  ‘Anything bothering you, Joel?’ I almost laugh – not exactly the kind of thing you say to get someone to spill their beans. It doesn’t deserve answering and she just sighs as the talk gets around to Vern Solomon.

  Gran reports, ‘He said there’s a ghost out there.’ Then she glances at me. ‘Even Mei was looking it up the other day.’

  Don’t tell me Mei’s been talking about Vern. Is that how Shawn knew? I glance at Dev, but he puts me right. ‘Vern told Steve Pengelly you’d stayed over. He’s serious about the ghost.’

  Gran says something then that worries the heck out of me. Her tone is not just do-gooder, it’s something else I can’t place. ‘He may not be fit to live out there on his own any more. Might be a danger to himself.’ I can see what she’s thinking – nowhere to wander off to when you’re on a little island. I can just imagine the whole town clanning together like they did with the sand wall, finding the sailmaker another safer place to live, where there are people to keep an eye out for him. Ha. Actually the thought horrifies me; I can’t even grin at my own joke. So I stick up for him instead.

  ‘You don’t understand. He’s not like that at all.’ I try not to think of the whisky bottle. ‘He’d hate being off the island!’ I must have said it louder than I meant to; they’ve all gone quiet. Well, Gran needed to be told. Putting Vern in a hostel would be like keeping me in the school’s focus room forever. I shudder thinking about it. I have to go out there again and prove he’s not going crackers. I check Gran’s face – now mightn’t be the best time to ask. Even Zoe’s watching me with this wary look on her face like I’m about to spring.

  I get Dev on my side later. We’re down on the jetty, dropping in a line. I know almost every crack of this jetty now and where you can catch what. All the old salts know it too, better maybe – that’s why they get thingy when some unsuspecting tourist sits in their favourite spot. Where we’re sitting we might get some trevally. Tommies are always a possibility. The breeze is up – it’s the windiest place on the peninsula here, maybe even in the whole state, and when the wind brings in that smell of the open sea and the fish it makes me think I’m out on the boat again.

  ‘He’s not crazy, Dev. I know he thinks there’s a ghost and he talks to his dog and all, but he’s okay.’

  Dev’s with me. ‘I’m sure you’re right, mate.’

  ‘So can I go out to the island again?’ Dev takes a little while
to answer. It gets me worried for a bit, but there’s no point rushing Dev when he’s thinking. So I listen to the suck, suck of the water hugging the jetty posts and letting go again while a seagull screeches overhead.

  ‘Don’t see why not,’ Dev finally says. ‘Seems a nice enough bloke to me.’

  Then, stone the crows, as Grandad used to say, guess who comes and plonks herself down? Zoe. She sits close by us too. Neither of us said she could. Then I think, maybe she knew Dev wouldn’t mind, and I watch them like a terrier outside a ferret hole. There’s no kissing at least. Dev hasn’t changed his tone at all. I don’t know Zoe well enough to see if she’s putting on any of that stupid flirty stuff that half the girls at school do. It’s so dumb. Glad Mei doesn’t – she’s a good mate.

  Nah, Zoe’s just talking about some boring thesis she has to write for uni. Dev’s trying real hard to look interested. Says a few ‘hmm?’s. He sure doesn’t look like a guy who can’t keep his hands off her. Isn’t that what people are like when they’ve got the hots for each other?

  Maybe Shawn’s wrong about it all.

  Later, when we get back home, we find out Nancy’s taken sick. Dev may have to go and see if she’s okay. My life starts crumbling again. I’m just like the island melting away at the mercy of every storm. If not Zoe, maybe Nancy will take Dev away. What if she ends up in a wheelchair with no one to look after her? Dev’s a nice bloke; I can just imagine him offering, and then what would happen to me?

  14