Ora's Gold Read online

  ‘Kat. Katherine. We got talking one day and before I knew it, we were together. She made the first move—she always knew what she wanted. We were pretty serious for a while. After she went back to the States, I saved up and followed her a few months later.’

  He pauses again and I want to ask him more, but I make myself wait.

  ‘I fell pretty deep. She was strong, you know?’

  I nod yes, but I don’t know.

  ‘It was good to be in another country, seeing new things. For the first time I felt free.’

  ‘I guess you didn’t have to look out for your mum and your sisters,’ I say, needing to say something.

  ‘Uh huh,’ he agrees. ‘The US has got its own version of the SIF, but resources didn’t seem so tight. I guess they didn’t get all the diseases like we did.’

  We sit for a moment.

  ‘I could just be this wild, new man. This anything-I-wanted-to-be man.’ He pauses. ‘Except it turned out to be anything she wanted. I started to jump through hoops for her. I was out of my depth.’

  He looks at me and I nod again.

  ‘I didn’t know anyone else, except her friends, who were a lot older. In the end I got some cash work, gardening, and saved the money to get away for a while. When I got back she ended it, and that was that.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, surprised at the finality of it.

  ‘Yep.’

  There’s more silence, but I’m not going to fill it.

  ‘I was gutted,’ he says. ‘And relieved. I knew it was for the best but I was pretty low for a while. I ended up travelling all over the States.’ He’s quiet and then says, ‘But it’s true about time healing. And sometimes,’ he smiles and looks across at me, ‘there’s something amazing around the corner.’

  My heart skips a beat.

  Now I realise why it took so long—all those weeks on the beach together, not talking. I was too shy, and he was getting over a broken heart.

  ‘What about you?’ The cheeky glint is back in his eye. ‘You must have kissed someone before? What about when you were five or six?’

  ‘Oh, my cat, you mean? Yes, I used to kiss him all the time.’ Can he see that I’m way out of my league? His ex is fourteen years older than me! She must have been so experienced; I can’t bear to think of them together. I feel like a kindergarten kid lost in the high-school yard.

  I kick Duke on to hurry him up and he jumps sideways in surprise, barging into Jake’s horse. She tosses her head and looks insulted and suddenly we’re off, galloping along the path, neck and neck. I hold on with my thighs, giving Duke all the reins he needs to push ahead. The pathway narrows and he surges forward.

  Jake’s horse is right behind us and I can sense that they want to be in front, but Duke and I are in the lead and loving it. The pathway narrows even more. Up ahead I can see it curves back on itself, up and around the hill. I lean forward, readying for Duke’s change of weight.

  ‘Ora,’ Jake shouts, out of breath. ‘Slow down! There’s a bridge ahead. You have to STOP!’

  I start reining Duke in and feel him resist. This is where I often lose it with a horse—I like the feel of them being free.

  ‘Ora!’ Jake sounds more authoritative, even though he’s further away; he’s slowed the black mare down.

  I lean right back, pulling hard, and Duke, the well-trained horse that he is, slows to a fast canter and then suddenly stops, nearly tossing me over his head.

  Jake trots past me on the high side of the hill. He looks at me angrily but doesn’t say anything. His face says it all. It was stupid to gallop off without knowing the way but I’m not going to apologise.

  The bridge turns out to be a rickety old wooden thing over a deep ravine. We have to dismount and lead the horses across it. It’s been built for walkers, not horses, and I’m alarmed at how dangerous it would have been to clatter over it at a gallop. The horses could have broken their legs. I want to say sorry but I can’t. I have withdrawn.

  We get back on the horses and walk for a long time, lost in our thoughts and the countryside around us. Perhaps he’s thinking about Kat and his time in America. My thoughts are flitting all over the place. Only a short while ago I was feeling so close to Jake, all wrapped up in intimacy, and now he’s a million miles away. How can things blow so hot and cold between us? I don’t get it.

  Memories of Mum and Dad and Holly on a family horse-riding holiday keep popping into my head, mingling with thoughts of Dione.

  Apprehension about the night ahead begins to creep in. Is it too late to turn back? Why did I agree to come away with a guy I hardly know?

  The forest path ends abruptly and opens onto endless hilltops that roll into the sky in slow waves. The expansiveness lightens my mood. We look at each other and smile.

  ‘That’s where we’re headed.’ Jake points to a shack on the next ridge, a dot in the distance that looks more like it’s grown out of the hill than assembled by human hands. ‘Tom built it five years ago—“The Escape”,’ he says. ‘So he and Sarah could take holidays—she can’t leave the horses for long.’

  The hills have turned golden in the sunlight and the silver bark of the gum trees really does look ghostly. Something about all the space and being so close to the sky makes me open up. He asks loads of questions about Holly and Mum. Most people are too afraid to ask. But talking about them makes me feel like I’m holding a smooth pebble, rather than a fistful of sand that’s slipping through my fingers. For the first time, I really share what it’s been like to lose them. Not in relation to Dad or Dione or Lucy. Just me—a kid who lost her mum and sister.

  ‘When do you feel it most?’ he asks, looking curious.

  ‘In the mornings. Across here,’ I gesture to my chest. ‘It’s like this dark shadow that I wake up with, pushing in on me. When I get busy it goes. But it’s there when I stop. And sometimes it’s like there’s this hole. Like my heart has a crack that makes me notice different colours—the murky ones—and hear different music. It’s hard to explain.

  ‘Holly was always there. We sparked off each other. Always together; giggling, imagining, arguing, annoying. She always sat beside me, never opposite. I don’t know why. I didn’t realise until she’d gone how she made me whole.

  ‘And Mum was like this crazy mixture of wild and deep. Not wild in an unsafe way, but she’d have these crazy impulses and we’d get carried along by them. You know those glittery leggings I wore to the party? They were hers.’

  Jake smiles.

  ‘When she wasn’t being wild she was quiet and soft and always knew what we needed.’

  Jake is a great listener. I even tell him about my one and only two-week-old boyfriend who I went out with in Year 11. I explain that I was scared of getting too close to anyone so I ended it soon after it’d started.

  ‘What about your animal guides or totems or whatever they are?’ he asks, out of the blue.

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Well I still don’t get that about you. Like, how do they fit in with the Ora who plays Scrabble?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t fully understand them, either. But some nights it’s really weird, I turn into a lion and go prowling around and then, before dawn, I transform into this giant snake before I slither home to bed.’

  ‘Really?’

  I nod. ‘But it’s very hard on my body, morphing from one to the other and then back to me again. And picking out the Scrabble letters with a Lion’s paw, that’s really difficult.’ He’s looking at me with big eyes, and then cracks a huge smile.

  ‘You had me!’ I nod and burst out laughing. ‘But only for a minute. Come on Ora, you have to tell me!’

  ‘Seriously, Jake. I don’t really know how they work. They’re kind of like an aspect of myself or my imagination. Different parts of me that have an animal form, maybe?’ He nods. Smiles. He’s actually really listening and doesn’t think I’ve cracked it. ‘Dione taught me these drum journeys years ago where you meet your power animal. I ended up meeting a lion and a s
nake and at different times—usually when I’m stressed—they pop into my head.’

  ‘So … do you … hear voices?’

  ‘No! Yes! Kind of.’

  Now he’s looking a bit worried so I start speaking very quickly in case he wants to turn around and go home. ‘But it’s usually only when I’ve got a drumbeat that I meet them. Apart from in the SIF, which was totally extreme.’

  He’s still here, nodding. So far, so good.

  ‘Mostly, I just listen to the drum recording which produces an altered state of consciousness. Ages ago, I read up on it and apparently the beat makes the hemispheres of the brain connect in a way that synchronizes them.’ Jake nods again. Maybe he understands. I hope so.

  ‘Perhaps it’s a bit like lucid dreaming,’ he suggests.

  ‘Maybe. But I’ve never done that so I’m not sure. Sometimes, Lion appears without the drumbeat, but not often.’

  ‘Except in the SIF?’

  I nod. ‘Like I said, it was totally extreme in there …’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘I don’t think I’m ready … but I’ll tell you when I am.’

  ‘Okay,’ he says then smiles. ‘But what about the dragon?’

  ‘I don’t know …’

  ‘Right!’

  ‘I mean, I haven’t worked it out yet.’

  ‘You and me both!’ he says with a chuckle and his horse does a little dance-y move at the same time which makes me smile.

  ‘I think the dragon arrived because it was the first time I let my hair down after the SIF—maybe I was just having a good freak out.’

  ‘It was definitely that,’ he agrees. We both laugh for a moment. If he was closer, I’d whack him.

  We walk on in contented silence. As we get nearer to the shack, I see it’s been thrown together with bits of old timber and sheets of corrugated iron. There’s a stout brick chimney at one end, making it look homely. Pink panes of glass and an old stable door give it a picture-book feel.

  I slide off Duke and hobble like a bow-legged cowboy to look inside the hut. It’s tiny, like it was built around the roughly hewn wooden bed. A bright pink blanket covers the comfy-looking mattress. And there are candles everywhere, as well as a whole load of wax.

  ‘No power,’ Jake says. ‘And Tom and Sarah love candles.’

  The sun is low in the sky by the time we take the horses’ saddles off and tie them up with feed from one of the saddlebags.

  Jake suggests I walk to the top of the hill to watch the sun go down while he makes a fire in the hut. I’m glad for the chance of some space. I’m not used to being so long in the company of anyone—especially a guy I’m about to get naked with.

  There’s a feeling of inevitability lurking in the background and I can feel the contrary part of me resisting. This is all too contrived. Does he bring lots of girls up here?

  I don’t know if this is what I want. Is this how it’s meant to be? Shouldn’t I wait until I know him better? It’s feeling too quick, rushed, like he’s rushing things. I’m totally out of my depth, stuck up here, unable to run.

  What if he’s the psycho?

  I barely see anything of the sunset; I’m trying to recall the route we took, wondering if I can walk it in the dark. Where is the moon? Usually I know whether it’s waxing or waning but things have got so out of whack since the SIF caught me. Suddenly I miss Dione’s little kitchen. And her frittata.

  Jake’s footsteps make me tense up. I hunch my shoulders and hug my knees. He sits down beside me, not too close, and hands me a tin cup half filled with red wine. I smile a small thank you and take a sip. It tastes strong, velvety, as the dark liquid slips down my throat, heating my belly. I want to take great glugs of it now. If he wasn’t sitting here, I would. I don’t even like red wine.

  The sun crowns the hilltop before sinking behind it, colouring the sky. A short while later we’re enveloped by blues and greys coming to end the day. The beginning of night. I’ve tried to capture it so many times.

  I want to tell him this is my favourite time, but I can’t. I feel sick with self-consciousness. He puts his arm around me and I’m not sure if I like it. I go to take another sip of wine but the cup is empty. A horrible slurp sounds out as I try to suck in the last drop. I start giggling inanely.

  It’s better than crying.

  He leans in close and kisses me tenderly on the lips. He calms me and maddens me at the same time. How is he so in control? I don’t like it.

  And I do.

  He stands and pulls me up, placing something cold and metal in my hand. It’s a torch.

  ‘Watch your step,’ he says, starting off down the small track to the hut. I keep my eyes fixed on the ground the whole way, careful not to trip over and embarrass myself further.

  When we’re close to the hut I look up and am surprised by its hearty glow. Warm candlelight dances in the pink windows, calling us inside.

  He opens the door and a magnetic gold light springs out—there are so many candles, and the fire is roaring. I see the food on the mantelpiece along with the bottle of wine. He’s made the bed with a sheet and laid out our pillows and sleeping bags.

  ‘Wow!’ I’m stunned by how magical it looks. Completely blown away.

  He leads me in and I sit on the bed, holding up my mug as he pours more wine and passes me some bread.

  ‘To soak up the wine,’ he smiles, and hands me a small board with the cheese on it. When he was pouring the drinks I noticed his hand shaking, which made me feel better. I can’t work him out. He’s so laid back and nonchalant, but he must be pretty organised to get all this happening.

  ‘So where’s the orchestra?’ I joke, to hide how overwhelmed I am.

  ‘They did a runner when they saw how far they’d have to come,’ he replies, not missing a beat. ‘But I do have my phone.’ He gets up to put on some music. It’s a band I vaguely recognise. They sound tinny and distant without speakers, but it’s good to have some music to fill the silence.

  Jake stokes the fire and helps himself to food. I’m busy stuffing my face and gulping more wine, even though I’m not especially hungry or thirsty.

  He comes and sits behind me. I stiffen and stop chewing mid-mouthful, feeling his hand on the back of my neck, gently stroking it, making every cell there tingle. We stay like this for ages, him in no hurry and me frozen to the spot. I manage to swallow the bread in my hand and sip some more wine.

  Do I turn around or stand up? I can’t look him in the eyes and I don’t want to move away so I carry on just sitting, enjoying the movement of his hand. He’s running it up and down my spine now. He kneels behind me and places both his hands on my shoulders. My zip-up hoodie has come off one shoulder and he’s caressing the bare skin under my T-shirt sleeve. Now both hands are near my neck again, massaging.

  He leans around and kisses me on the cheek. My mind is working furiously, trying to keep up with my body’s enjoyment. Should I say something? Pull back? Take more control? But instead my head turns and finds his lips.

  He reaches to the stretch of my neck that is exposed and runs his hand down over my shoulder, to the bare skin on my arm again. My hoodie is off my other shoulder now, pooling around my wrists. His fingertips are spidery on my arms. My skin becomes sensitive; it’s singing under his touch!

  The music has stopped and all I can hear is the crackling of the fire and our breathing. It feels like we’re in a cocoon … and it’s shrinking.

  I get up and put my cup on the mantelpiece, pulling my hoodie back on. This is going too fast.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I … This … It feels a bit quick.’ I turn back slowly towards him.

  ‘Do you want to just get into bed?’

  ‘Under the covers sounds good,’ I say, looking at our two separate sleeping bags.

  That’s not going to work …

  ‘Shall we try zipping them together?’ he asks, reading my mind. ‘So they make a doona?’

  ‘Let’s give
it a go.’

  We cajole the zips into a haphazard kind of union and in the process, end up having another wrestling match.

  ‘You think you’re so strong,’ he says, trying but failing to pin me down.

  ‘That’s because I am!’ But then my laughter overtakes me and he breaks my winning streak.

  ‘So you do know how to have some fun, Ora James.’ I like the sound of my name in his mouth.

  We’re out of breath from laughing so much and slow our rough and tumbling, ending up in a snuggly heap, facing each other.

  ‘We can just sleep if you want,’ he says gently.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say. And I honestly don’t. I want to tell my mind to shut up and let my body go. This guy who I fell for so many months ago has brought me here to this magical place and I want him, with my heart and my body. And I want to please him too. But it feels forced. Like I have to, and something in me is baulking. Maybe I am contrary. Mum used to say I was. I just don’t want to rush. I know he’s the one. There’s no question. So why do I need to go slow? Am I just being contrary for the sake of it?

  You don’t have to go all the way on your first night. My own words echo in my head from ages ago. Lucy was going to a sleepover at her boyfriend’s for the first time.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asks sleepily. His hand is stroking my arm again.

  ‘About going all the way,’ I reply.

  His eyes open. ‘Do you want to?’

  ‘Yes, but not right now,’ I say quietly, knowing I risk losing the magic of this moment.

  He hugs me close. ‘It’s okay.’

  He lets me go and rolls onto his back. I’m shocked. It’s like there are two lights—red or green—but amber’s out of the question. I roll away from his arm, wrapping the makeshift doona close to my body.

  ‘Oi!’ he says gruffly, ‘stop stealing the covers.’ He folds his body in behind mine, and pulls me close.

  ‘Maybe we should unzip them?’ I say grumpily. ‘We’ll both be warmer.’

  ‘No chance,’ he says to the back of my neck, pretending to snore loudly.

  ‘Are you really going to go to sleep?’