Sailmaker Page 5

  Today I’m back on the island. Dev’s gone to see Nancy and I’m trying not to think about it much. The sailmaker is pleased to see me. Turns out he knew who I was in the first place. It comes about when we’re having eggs and bacon for lunch out on the verandah and I ask him if he’s lonely out here. I’m thinking of Dev. He’s got me, but I’ve often thought there could be some other ways he’s lonely.

  Vern’s not lonely at all.

  ‘I’ve got Olsen, the birds …’ he says. ‘Even this island is my friend. That’s why it’s hard to see her slippin’ away like she is. She’s like a beautiful ship to me, boy, her sails unfurled; the lighthouse is the mast. The birds love her too, but she’s sinking and there’s nothing more miserable than that.’ Nah, he’ll never leave; captains don’t leave sinking ships.

  He’s quiet for a while and I’m thinking maybe an island seems like a woman to a guy as old as the sailmaker, but what about Dev? And so I ask Vern, ‘When you were forty or a bit younger, did you want a real woman?’

  Vern’s got this shrewd look in his one eye. ‘Why are you asking that, boy?’

  And I tell him. All about Dev and Zoe. He doesn’t talk for a long time, just lets me spill. Then, ‘Dev’s a good bloke. If he says he wants to be your pretend dad, I don’t know what you’re worried about.’ He hasn’t heard Shawn mouth off.

  ‘Besides,’ Vern carries on, ‘from what you say, your Zoe doesn’t sound like his type.’ I didn’t say, but he makes me think extra hard. It’s true. The only thing that matches with Dev and Zoe is the amount of earrings they wear. And the amount of letters in their names. That almost makes me grin.

  ‘Now your grandmother, she’s a mighty fine woman.’ He says this in almost the same tone he used about the island. Gran? How’d we get onto her? His eye is twinkling like a lighthouse at dusk. ‘Knew your grandad – we used to play footy together.’ And he sighs. ‘But he was the one that got your grandmother.’ He’s quiet some more. Man, the things you find out that happened years ago! No wonder Gran had been so concerned about him.

  ‘Maybe a man can get lonely. You’ll just have to face that, boy – got to take things as they come. If you’ve got a foundation under you like that there lighthouse, you can stand straight against whatever happens. Few more years of bad storms like we get here and this island could disappear forever, but that lighthouse will be the last thing to go.’

  I think of the sandcastle inside me and how easy it is to crash it down – any thought, anything I hear. Even Shawn Houser can do it. Vern makes me feel like I’ve got to have rock, not sand. Yeah, Dev’s always on about stuff happening in your head – that’s where you make it or break it. That’s where he stops fighting. Maybe I’d better build a better castle in there. Sand’s no good. I’ll be forever patching it up and one day the tide might take it all before I’ve got time to get the sandbags out.

  15

  I ask Vern today whether the ghost scares him, but he just laughs. ‘Ghosts don’t bother me, boy. I’ve seen a few things in me time. A ghost or two is neither here nor there.’ It’s cool helping Vern do his jobs. He’s worried about the boxthorns and I have a go at helping him chop a few down. ‘They don’t belong here,’ he says, ‘but we can’t take too many either. The cormorants are nesting on them now. Have to watch the wind erosion too. That’s the biggest problem on this island.’ Not to mention the tide eating it away, but I don’t like to draw his attention back to that.

  As we work in the park, there are birds diving, screaming, annoyed we’re disturbing them, even though Vern hasn’t got the chainsaw out and we’re using the axe. Then I hear this piping call above it all. I stop; I’ve never heard that before. Vern hears it too. ‘That’s the grassbird, boy.’ And then, I don’t know whether it’s because we are here, but suddenly a whole pile of cormorants start forming ranks like they are a grey and white army on a parade ground and march off together to take a dip. Their necks are stretched up, all trying to see something the others can’t. Vern is chuckling so hard, his beard’s going up and down, but Olsen barely moves an ear. I think Vern must have trained him not to take notice of the birds. Vern’s awful proud of those birds. ‘Some even visit from Canada and Japan, boy.’

  Just after tea Vern and I go down to the beach with a torch. Vern shows me a good place to sit where we’ll get to see the action, and then we keep quiet and wait. Soon, up out of the water come those little penguins, flip-flopping around. Mei’s right; they look kind of cute. They splash in the shallows, hundreds of them. ‘Breeding time,’ Vern says.

  Vern’s full of stories too. Like the bull sea lion that visits him from time to time from Kangaroo Island. ‘He knows me, boy. Hangs around a few days, says goodbye and off he goes again.’

  I’m grinning about the bull, just lying in bed thinking about everything, so when I hear the first clang above the wind, I don’t catch what it is. By the second one I do. It’s true-blue clanging. It’s what Vern’s been telling me about; Mei too. So it’s for real.

  I creep out; take the torch. Vern doesn’t lock any doors so it’s easy to get outside without much noise. Once I’m out I can hear the squawks of gulls, protecting their nests maybe; some penguins arguing. I can see well enough after all, so I leave the torch off. The lighthouse is dark against the grey sky – only the light on the top flashing every ten seconds. Have to admit it though; I’m spooked. Ms Bosse tells us not to use clichés (that’s saying it the same as everyone else) but it really does feel like something’s crawling real slow up my spine. With spiky legs. I’m standing as still as I can, waiting for the sound again. I go a bit closer, not much, and there it is again. Clang, clang. It sounds like someone’s walking up the steel stairs, a spanner in hand, to fix something in the light room. They’re banging the spanner on the rail as they go. No one can go up there, of course, the lighthouse is always locked. Not even tourists, not even the sailmaker. No wonder Vern thinks there’s a ghost. Even I am wondering now.

  Vern’s never worried about the clanging. Always been there, he reckons. It’s the rustling in the kitchen he doesn’t much like, as if the ghost has forgotten the rules. Vern’s happy for a ghost to fiddle around in a locked lighthouse, but not in his kitchen. Though when you think about it, Vern’s kitchen was the head keeper’s too. The one they reckon is the ghost. There’s no point me staying out here. I don’t want to go any closer; don’t want to see a ghost. The clanging stops when I go inside, just like it was put on for my benefit.

  I tell Vern in the morning. ‘I heard the clanging.’ He’s watching me with that one eye of his. I think when you’ve only got one it learns to do the work of two.

  ‘Quite something, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah.’ This time I don’t tell him that I think he’s got rats. I really have nothing much to say. Though the rustling in the kitchen could be rats. Some must have jumped ship years ago. If I came one more night, I could say for sure. Last night I couldn’t stay awake after I got back in. I reckon those pills make me more tired. When I come again I’ll have to not take them – just to stay awake.

  Mr Pham and Mei come to get me in the Sea Wolf. I’m wondering where Dev is and Mei tells me. ‘His sister is in hospital and he stayed longer.’ I hear a slight buzz on the edge of my brain. So this is it then. I know I’m not the only one in Dev’s life – can’t expect that, I guess – but I can’t help wishing I’m the one he likes best, the only one he wants to be with. It sounds so selfish. Only babies cry to be picked up all the time.

  Vern’s heard what Mei said and he’s watching me. As I look up at him, he nods at the lighthouse. How can he know what I’m thinking? He’s right though, I do want to be the lighthouse, not a piece of sponge or a tinnie tossed around by the high tide.

  I thank Vern for letting me stay over and I jump into the boat. Then I tell Mei about the clanging.

  ‘It’s real,’ is mostly all I say. Her eyes are dark and huge. She’s glad she’s only hearing it second-hand.

  When I get home, only Gran’
s there. My relief at finding Zoe gone is short-lived. ‘She went to help Dev. Might be something she can do to help. Laundry maybe.’

  I must be staring, for Gran comes over. ‘Are you all right, Joel? Nancy will get better. Some gallstone trouble.’ She thinks I’m worried about Nancy. If only that was all. When you’ve just decided you’re going to be a lighthouse and not a sandcastle, why do the wind and the waves pound on you even stronger than before?

  16

  It feels like there’s a storm brewing in my head. Last day of the school term doesn’t make it any better. Not at first anyway. Ms Bosse says the word ‘medication’. Out loud. I turn. No one seems to have heard – only Mei and Prescott. Prescott! Jumping Jehoshaphat! He’ll tell Shawn. But Jonnie Prescott has his eyes glued on Ms Bosse. Surely he heard.

  Then she says, ‘And you too, Jonathon.’ What was she saying? It’s just before lunch; kids are packing up. Ms Bosse’s saying how pleased she is with our progress and maturity in taking our medication. Prescott pops pills? Like me?

  Ms Bosse can tell I never knew. She raises her eyebrows at Prescott and he nods slightly. He doesn’t look too surprised to hear about me.

  ‘Jonathan has a disorder, different to yours, Joel, but he takes medication like you do. By the end of the year I hope it becomes just an ordinary thing for everyone in the class.’ Everyone? I panic. She’s going to tell everyone?

  Then she smiles. ‘Not without your permission, Joel, but it needn’t be a problem, you know. Many people take medication. I do.’

  Both Prescott and I lean a little forward.

  ‘Epilepsy,’ she says. ‘If I take my medication I don’t have fits.’ Fits? Ms Bosse with fits? I look at her in horror and hope it changes to something different by the time it reaches her. That’s millions of times worse than drumming and galloping in the head. Jumping Jehoshaphat! Fits. I check her out more carefully. No wonder you can’t ruffle her up. And she put Prescott and me down the front. She knew. And she knows what it’s like – to be different, a problem.

  ‘Did you get picked on?’ I just blurt it out. It comes from nowhere. Her tone doesn’t change even though I bet she wants to ask me if I do.

  ‘Actually, I did. I was called a retard. It was very hurtful.’ Hurtful. What a word.

  ‘What’d you do?’ Can’t imagine Ms Bosse fighting, so how’d she get rid of hurtful?

  ‘One day I decided I could either let this bother me or I could ignore it.’ Yeah, sandcastle or lighthouse – easy choice, but how do you do it? She carries on, like I asked it aloud. ‘It was difficult, but I had to keep telling myself not to believe those things people said. After a while I started to believe the good things.’ Prescott and I are listening hard; it’s Mei who says, ‘What good things?’

  ‘That I may have epilepsy but there’s space on the planet for me.’ That sounds cool: a place with Joel Billings written on it.

  Reckon I can see what Prescott’s had to deal with. He’s not as prickly as me so he found it easier to go along with Shawn than fight it. Don’t know if I’ll ever get used to everyone knowing about me and the M word though, so I don’t give my permission. Ms Bosse said to remember that it’s only small-minded people that make you feel different. She was looking at Mei as she said that too.

  Dev and Zoe are not back yet when I get home from school. What a whoopi-do Easter break I’m going to have with Dev away at Nancy’s. With Zoe. Gran makes it worse. By the time she’s finished I can almost hear the lighthouse clanging in my head. Gran’s having a cup of tea and I get her version of cordial out of the fridge. Homemade with no preservatives or added colour.

  ‘Has Zoe said anything to you, Joel?’ It’s a stupid question. Of course, Zoe’s said stuff: Pass the butter. Get me a towel. Is something bothering you? I’m not sure which one Gran would be interested in, so I say nothing at first, and Gran explains. ‘About getting married?’

  I almost drop the bottle. It’s obvious Zoe’s said nothing about that. Gran sighs. She sounds annoyed. I don’t really want to know but I ask ‘Why?’ This is all Gran says: ‘Zoe’s young, Joel. One day she might want to get married again. Would that bother you?’ Bother me? It must be Dev she’s talking about then. So it’s true. Of course that will bother me. Zoe won’t live here. She’s upfront about that – just likes coming for holidays. That lighthouse on the island is made of cast iron, only three of them in all of Australia, but mine’s turning into clay quick smart. I bang the plastic bottle on the bench and head for my room. Couldn’t stand it if Gran started spelling it all out.

  In my room I try not to think about how chummy Dev and Zoe could get, fixing up Nancy’s house, visiting her in hospital, riding on the bike. I know what that’s like. Zoe would have to put her arms around him. Or would she hang onto the back rail like guys do? Yeah, maybe that’s all, but if she puts her arms round his waist she’ll feel everything I do – how big and warm he is, how his heart is so strong I can feel it beating through his back if I rest my cheek there. That’s when I feel as if I’m attached, like a newborn joey in the pouch, and I never want the ride to end. Ever.

  What if she feels like that too?

  17

  Mei and I are going across to the island to see Vern. I’ve decided to take our tinnie. Dev’s put a small motor in it so I can’t do more than ten knots, and we’ll take the oars, of course. That dead detention guy was crazy not taking oars. He would still be alive if he did. We wear the life jackets. There’s not much wind this morning so the crossing should be okay. Just checking everything out when Shawn and Prescott see us. Shawn’s found out about the pills.

  ‘What a loser, Bilious. Popping pills like Jonnie now.’

  I think of Dev tapping his head, Vern nodding at the lighthouse. Ms Bosse having a fit. And I ignore Shawn. It’s heaps hard – the only way I can do it is talk to myself. Dev reckons if you tell yourself something often enough you’ll end up believing it so you may as well tell yourself true things. I am Joel Billings. I am not a loser. He’s just talking crap. I almost can’t breathe with the effort of ignoring. I hope this gets easier. I can’t help saying something at the end though. ‘Go stuff it somewhere, Shawn. Can’t you think of anything better to talk about?’

  And you know what? His mouth goes small like the wide-mouth frog when it comes across the cat that eats them. Prescott’s watching me with this half-worried, half-sorry look, pulling Shawn away. Why is he friends with that jerk anyway?

  Mei’s smiling at me. And I suddenly realise something. I don’t feel like a dropkick. I’m one of those guys from the old days getting the better of the dragon. Wish I had a sabre and a scabbard to put it in but I put Grandad’s surf fishing rod in the tinnie instead. I’ll be doing some fishing over there and I tell Mei about all the best spots that I’ve heard about. Wish we could stay the night – there’d be a high tide for sure, and I could check out the ghost some more. But I don’t mention that, of course; wouldn’t want to take that look off her face, like I’ve just won a fishing competition. I know what that feels like. Mei’s got her exercise book to keep her happy while I’m tickling the fish, but mention the ghost and she might not come at all. Believing in ghosts must have something to do with your family and if you think your ancestors are still around, I guess.

  ‘It’ll be good fishing off the beach today,’ I say. ‘Mullet, salmon trout out there. Flathead.’ And tommies of course. There are always tommies. I start up the motor and we’re off. Not much use shouting over it, so we just enjoy the ride, me with my hand on the tiller. Mei grinning every now and then. Takes us over half an hour, just going ten knots. Wish we could go faster.

  ‘What’s that?’ At first I think she means the birds that have flown up at our arrival and I’m straining to see which ones they are. We’re close to the island now, in the shallows, and I’ve cut the motor. But Mei’s hanging as far over the side as she can without getting us wet. For one horrible moment I think of the dead guy. One of these days his body might turn up. I don’t think I’d
want to see that, half eaten, mostly decomposed. Gross. Then I relax.

  ‘Stingray. Maybe it’s a magpie fiddler!’ They’re rare rellies of the stingray. If we ever see one we have to tell the museum in Adelaide. Magpie fiddlers have black and white on their backs. But this one doesn’t, nor is it long enough. I reach out. Almost get him too. A sea eagle swoops and floats up again. I put the oars in their sockets and as I row in closer, a crowd of cormorants rises up like money thrown up to the sun, and then settles down again in the boxthorns. Heaps peaceful – guess that’s why Vern likes it.

  As usual he’s keen to see us. It’s a cool feeling – his eye goes bright and his beard moves a lot. ‘Brought your little girlfriend, boy?’ And he’s grinning – what a stirrer. Guess he’s only joking, but Mei manages to turn red even with that Asian skin of hers.

  We share a cuppa with Vern, and then I say we’ll go fishing. Well, me really; Mei usually sits and writes. Vern says, ‘Help yourself,’ like the sea is his table and we’re going to have fish ’n’ chips and salad. ‘I’m just fixing this ’ere kitchen door, if you want anything,’ he says. ‘You were right about that penguin. It’s made an awful mess of the screen.’

  Olsen’s watching us as we walk down to the beach. It’s weird really – Olsen doesn’t pant and jump all over you like some dogs but you still get this idea he knows everything that’s going on. He’s like an undercover military submarine lying in the shallows, all the power turned off, watching and waiting.

  Down by the water I have a go at reading the beach. I haven’t been fishing here before so I have to check out where the fish might be. I can tell there’s a sandbank not too far out by the surf there. Grandad would say the fish like to feed on the seaward side of a sandbank, and then they can escape into the darker blue water behind them if a predator comes by. I decide to try for that and finish the rigging I’d started back on the mainland. Even my rig has to be different for the beach – a running sinker and not so heavy so I’ll still feel the bite. Bait has to look like what the fish were going to have for lunch so I try and find some sandworms, even though I’ve brought gents in case I can’t. Maybe the worms will look like little shellfish in the water. I drag my hand over the sand near the water’s edge and – wouldn’t you know it? – a little worm pokes its head up to see what’s going on. I grab him with my right hand and pull. He’s really long and I impale him on my hook.