Ora's Gold Read online

  4

  Seaboy

  Lucy’s cheery face fills my tiny phone screen. She’s just given me a quick scan of her room, which made my belly flip. It’s so bare—stripped of all her posters and stuff. Even the packing boxes that sat open for weeks have now been taped up, ready to go. They’re leaving in the morning.

  ‘So how’s life in Adelaide?’ She sounds jokey jealous.

  ‘It’s okay.’ I string out the ‘kay’. ‘There’s not much to do except draw and go to the beach … I miss you!’

  ‘Well you should have stayed with us then.’ She sounds a bit sour.

  ‘I wish I had.’

  Lucy tries to smile but it doesn’t work.

  ‘I’m really going to miss you at Christmas,’ I say. I’ve been dreading the thought of just me and Dione. Lucy looks away for a sec.

  ‘Hey, I’ve got a holiday job at the supermarket,’ I sound a touch too bright.

  ‘Woo hoo!’ Lucy quips. ‘So now you can start saving for the boat fare to New Zealand.’

  ‘I’ve already started.’

  Lucy nods. She thinks I’m joking. ‘Will you see your dad for Christmas?’

  ‘Course not, he’ll be working like always. It’ll just be me and Dione.’

  ‘You sound a bit down.’

  ‘I feel a bit down.’

  ‘How is Auntie Dione?’

  I shrug. ‘She’s insane. She’s … a frickin’ ice queen. I hate it here!’

  ‘Ouch!’ Lucy says and looks concerned. Then she starts laughing again. ‘Does she torture small and fluffy animals?’

  ‘If only.’ It feels good to hear her laugh.

  ‘What then?’

  ‘I can’t tell you on the phone.’ I really want to, Luce, I’m just too scared. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘Ora! You can’t leave me hanging. TELL me!’

  ‘I will next time, I promise. Let’s talk about something else.’

  She sighs. ‘Alright.’ I’m glad she doesn’t push. ‘Have you applied for any courses yet?’

  ‘Uh-uh. Still looking.’

  ‘What about the guys there?’ She brightens. ‘Anyone interesting?’

  ‘Nope. Very boring.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Wait, I did see this guy at the beach the other day.’

  ‘Oooh. Now you’re talking. Nice looking?’

  ‘Very! Except for the seal look.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He was wearing this full-body wetsuit.’ She pulls a face and I laugh. ‘It’s colder here in spring, remember? Anyway this guy swam the whole length of the beach and back.’

  ‘Did you talk to him?’ Lucy asks.

  ‘No, but I smiled when I walked past him.’

  ‘Did he smile back?’

  ‘Kind of.’

  ‘Well, I guess that’s something.’ I can tell she’s a bit disappointed so I throw in some more. ‘I’ve given him a name, wanna hear it?’

  ‘’Course.’

  ‘Seaboy.’

  ‘Seaboy?’ Lucy chuckles. ‘’Cos he looks like a seal? Or ’cos he’s nuts about the ocean too?’

  ‘Both, I guess.’

  Lucy laughs.

  ‘I even like his teeth,’ I laugh with Lucy. She wants every detail, like usual. It feels so good to be saying more than two sentences and to have her happy face looking back at me, listening intently.

  I don’t want the conversation to end. We talk for an hour and twenty-two minutes. Eventually Beth appears at the corner of the screen, flustered, saying they’re late for some leaving party. The screen goes blank and I’m left sitting on the bed, surrounded by silence.

  *

  The sea pulls me in every time, even in the winter. I go in quickly, ignoring my blood turning to ice. Once the water’s up to my thighs I dive. The cold shock penetrates my bones and I come up fast. Since Mum and Holly died I’ve gone to the beach whenever I can. I used to walk for miles, but since the swimming bans have been lifted, now that the water quality has been declared safe, I prefer to swim.

  I was in the shallows when I first saw him, digging my hands into the sandy floor, floating like seaweed. He was looking the other way so I didn’t see his face. It was his legs that I noticed. Defined and strong, just like his arms. I felt smug as he pulled on his wetsuit—not hardy like me, in just my bathers—but I didn’t stop looking. He had no idea I was there as I quietly drifted in and out with the waves.

  Just as he started swimming, I stood up, feeling in danger of hyperthermia. His speed and grace surprised me. I stared until he was just a vague blob in the distance, then went and moved my towel a little closer to his.

  His footsteps crunching in the sand woke me. I’d drifted into a slumber on my belly as the sun dried my salty skin and warmed my bones. I lifted an eyelid and spied him peeling off his wetsuit. After sitting on his towel, he shook his head, spraying drops of seawater from his dark hair, took out a book and then looked straight at me. I shut my eye quickly and pretended to be asleep, realising too late I was still making circles in the sand with my toes. He must have noticed. I moved my head to the other side and felt a giggle rise up between me and the sand.

  He was still there when it was time to catch my bus, so I braved a smile as I walked past. He had a gorgeous smile.

  I’m going to the beach tomorrow.

  *

  Dione has had her dinner and left mine under a tea towel. She’s watching something onscreen. I could go and sit next to her but I eat at the kitchen table instead.

  On my way to bed, I stop at Dione’s room and look at the frame drum.

  ‘Why do you have a drum on your wall?’ Holly’s eleven-year-old voice rings out across the years.

  In my mind’s eye, I see Dione lying across the end of her bed with me and my sister snuggled up under the covers.

  ‘I use it with the women at work,’ she said, looking up at the round frame drum with the kookaburra feathers dangling from it.

  ‘So they can give birth the way they want to.’ She paused, choosing her words. ‘A woman needs quiet and darkness when she’s labouring, just like animals, but you don’t get that in a hospital so I help them find a special place inside.’

  ‘With the drum?’ Holly asked.

  Dione nodded, ‘Along with their power animal.’

  ‘What’s a power animal?’ I asked, sitting up.

  ‘You’re just trying to stay up!’ Dione said.

  ‘No I’m not!’

  Holly giggled, ‘Yes you are.’

  ‘I am not! I just want to know about power animals.’ I loved anything to do with animals. ‘And I know you used that drum on Mum the other day. I heard you.’

  ‘Relax, Ora, settle down.’ Dione was looking at me intently. ‘If you want, I’ll do a drum journey with you before you go home tomorrow, okay? It’d be good for you to know your power animal.’

  I gave a thankful nod and pushed back into the pillows.

  ‘I never want to have a baby.’ Holly said when Dione had gone. ‘It sounds horrible.’ She had listened in on lots of Mum and Dione’s chats.

  ‘Yeah, but the drum journey sounds fun,’ I said as I closed my eyes for sleep.

  ‘I wonder what our power animals will be,’ Holly said with a yawn.

  The next morning when we went to Dione’s study, Holly and I were hit by the scent of something herbal burning. When Dione opened her door she was holding a wing—not a feather, but a whole raven’s wing!—sleek black night in feathered form. I wanted to touch it so badly. In her other hand she held a smoking stub of leaves, bound tightly with red thread.

  ‘This is sage,’ she said quietly, using the wing to direct the smoke over our bodies. I loved the smell of burning green. A lit candle sat on an altar next to a gold bowl of water and a small sculpture of a woman lying down with a big belly and huge breasts. There was also an image of a leopard.

  ‘Right,’ Dione said. ‘Lie under the blankets on the rug.’

  There wasn’t a lot of room b
ut we lay side by side with our feet under her desk. She stood against the door holding her drum.

  ‘When you’re ready, put the scarves over your eyes. Just rest and listen to your breath. I’m going to drum like this.’ And she banged her beater quickly, on the animal skin.

  When we covered our eyes I felt the pulse reverberate through the front of my body, and repeated to myself, as Dione had instructed, ‘I’m journeying to meet my power animal. I’m journeying to meet my power animal.’

  Dione’s voice guided us. ‘Imagine yourself going into a cave and then down, under the earth or the ocean, or maybe through the trunk and roots of a tree—wherever your imagination takes you. Along the way, you’ll meet some animals, or maybe just one. If something doesn’t feel right, ask, “Are you here for my highest good?” If it isn’t, it will disappear. When it’s time to come back, I’ll beat the drum like this.’ She banged her beater slowly, three times.

  A picture opened in my mind. I was walking along a beach, with caves set back into the cliffs. I went inside one, my senses adjusting to the dark. There were some stone steps leading down into deeper darkness. It was so black. I had to put my hand on the damp rock wall to feel my way down. Finally, some light appeared below and soon I found myself stepping out into a forest. A rainforest.

  I looked up to see a massive lion standing in front of me, rich amber eyes glowing. I swallowed and said, ‘Hello’.

  ‘Welcome to the animal realm, Ora,’ he said. The voice was in my head, but it definitely belonged to the lion. ‘Follow me.’

  He turned and padded along the forest path, tail in the air, twitching occasionally. I followed him, feeling the soft ground under my feet and catching the musty sweet forest scent.

  Suddenly, a large snake appeared before me, its eyes huge.

  ‘Ora, I’ve been waiting for you.’

  ‘Hello,’ I replied. ‘Ar … Are you here for my highest good?’

  ‘Yes, Ora. We are always here for you. You’re not alone. Remember that. Sometimes you will feel that you are but you’re very strong. You have all that you need inside you. The ocean will help you—go there often. And the earth gives you strength. Think of the earth as your mother Ora …’

  The drumbeat changed, but I still had some questions.

  ‘It’s time to leave now, Ora,’ the lion said.

  Reluctantly I turned and there he was, ready to escort me back.

  ‘Start to retrace your steps.’ I heard Dione’s deep voice.

  I walked beside the lion, my hand on his back. He came up the steps with me and stopped just outside the entrance of the cave. I put my arms around his huge neck. I didn’t want to let go.

  Dione’s voice was coming through gently, ‘Wiggle your fingers; wiggle your toes.’

  I came back into my body and stretched my arms up behind me, warm from the memory of the lion.

  But … a snake? I thought with a little shudder.

  Dione sat down on the floor and we told her about our journeys. Holly had met an eagle. Dione said it sounded like I had two power animals: Lion and Snake. I was happy about the lion, but less sure about the snake.

  When Dione told Holly that her eagle symbolised power and spirit, I was so jealous. But that was then. Now, I like to think of her flying free with her eagle.

  5

  First Birth

  Dione is out a lot. She never tells me where she goes, just ‘out’. A couple of times she’s stayed away the whole night. I don’t ask her where she’s been. I don’t want to know.

  I’m happiest when she’s in the garden.

  Now and then we talk a bit, although I feel numb most of the time—apart from when I’m eating her food. It’s like I created all this space for her inside me, but she’s too busy to notice me, so the space just fills up with pebbles instead. And I’m getting heavier. Full of pebbles and full of food.

  Maybe it’s more about Mum and Holly. Maybe they were the ones who made the hole, and I was hoping Dione would fill it. Either way, it doesn’t matter—she’s too busy to care. Sometimes I want to shake her. Her ‘screw the SIF’ attitude is pathetic in a grown woman. She doesn’t realise what she’s risking. The SIF are like ants: unseen most of the time, but when there’s something sweet they’re all over it, hundreds of them. Sometimes I wonder if Dione is just trying to fill all the holes inside her—with action.

  The beach is where I want to be, swimming and watching Seaboy. We’re on ‘hello’ terms now but I can’t bring myself to chat to him. A few days ago I got there before him and sat in his place, but then I moved because it felt far too obvious. I’m thinking of ways to start up a conversation … My favourite scenario so far is the one where I stumble in the sand and fall on top of him.

  But I wouldn’t know where to go from there.

  I don’t talk much to anyone at the moment, apart from Lucy, when I can catch her. She’s busy settling in.

  I’ve been drawing in my sketchpad—getting lost in the wildlife and the trees. There’s this beautiful gum at the back of the property, I’ve drawn it a hundred times—and used up all my charcoal trying to capture its shape. I should be choosing a course but I still don’t know what to do. No direction, that’s me.

  *

  I’m home alone one evening when a car pulls into the driveway. A wave of nausea rushes through me. The SIF? Dione’s had a few ‘guests’ recently. I open the door a crack and peek out, knowing how suspicious I must look. A woman is walking towards the back of the house. I head through the kitchen and open the back door just as she’s raising her hand to knock. She’s as pregnant as a hot-air balloon.

  ‘What do you want?’ I know I sound unfriendly, but she shouldn’t be here. Dad would have a fit.

  ‘Is … is Dione here?’ Her eyes flit behind me into the kitchen, all mad and starey, like a fox in a trap.

  ‘She’s out.’ Stupid woman, putting herself and her baby in danger. And me. ‘You’ll have to come back another day.’ I begin to close the door.

  ‘Please,’ the woman puts her hand on the doorframe. ‘The baby’s coming.’

  She puts her other hand up and leans forward, breathes out through her mouth, all slow and forced control. Now I’m really scared. Is she going to drop her baby here on the back step? I want to slam the door but her fingers are in the way. I back into the kitchen and suddenly I’m shouting.

  ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’

  She just stares at me, confused, still gripping the doorframe and doing her heavy breathing.

  ‘You’re breaking the law!’ This time my voice comes out low and even.

  She says nothing, but those eyes bore into me. I step forward. ‘You should be in the Safety for the Future Program!’

  She starts to moan—probably to protest, but I stop her immediately.

  ‘See, that’s what I mean. Do you know how dangerous this is? What about your baby?’ I’m alive with purpose. Someone has to talk sense into her!

  Now the woman’s hands have slipped down to her side. She looks sort of glazed, like she’s going to cry.

  ‘What if the SIF catch you? They’ll take your baby. Why can’t you just be normal and go to the centre like everyone else? Why’d you have to come here?’ My voice has become strangely high-pitched. I feel I might burst. ‘People like you—’

  ‘Ora!’ Dione’s voice booms down the passage. She strides forcefully into the kitchen and pushes past me, car keys still in hand.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she’s saying gently to the woman.

  The woman lets out a choking sob. Dione’s stroking the hair around her face and then she starts guiding her down the back steps.

  ‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying.’ Dione says to her, glancing back like she hates me—it’s a punch in the guts. ‘She’s just a teenager.’

  What the hell? I’m eighteen! Dione barks a command at me over her shoulder.

  ‘Get Lyndal’s bag out of her car and bring it up to the cottage.’

  Me. Is she talking to me?
>
  ‘You’re kidding me!’ I shout the words.

  ‘Just get it!’

  The woman has to stop and hold onto Dione.

  I storm into the passage, slamming the kitchen door behind me. I trip on the porch steps but manage to save myself before falling over. Then I’m running down the driveway, desperate to burn off this fire inside me. Only when I’m gasping for breath do I stop, crashing into the post of the Buzzy Bee sign, which starts swinging, grating metal against metal. I spring up, full stretch, to bring it down, screaming, shouting, roaring out my fury. It’s too high. I grab the post and shake it, kick it. Stub my toes. Shouts turning to sobs, I put my head against the post and slump against it, finding my way to the ground.

  Car tyres on gravel rouse me and I sink lower in the overgrown bushes. My tears and snot are all over my face. I wait for the car to go by, but instead it turns in, clipping the verge as it revs up to the house. The driver doesn’t notice that he’s nearly flattened me with his frenzied steering. The father, I guess.

  I flash back to the woman’s face at the door, her bewilderment and fear all mixed up with my words. I close my eyes and see my lion’s face over my own. Breathing deeply, I imagine my arms around his neck.

  Troubling thoughts start to plague me. I was screaming in that woman’s face. What if I made her cry so much that I stopped her baby from coming out? Can a baby stop when it’s on its way out? I try to stop torturing myself as I make my way back up the drive. She’s the one who’s put us all in danger—I’m just the fool in the middle. But shame is squirming in my gut. My self-righteous anger has deserted me.

  By the time I get to her car, I don’t even flicker with hesitation. It’s like there’s a magnet pulling me to open the door. I lean in and smell lavender—a small bunch sits on the dash. Her bag is faded brown and the leather is soft. I shut the door quietly and walk around the house, up the path, steadily towards the cottage. For the briefest of moments, I imagine my lion is beside me.

  ‘You’re Dione’s little helper.’ Mum’s words from years ago echo in my head, making my anger flare up again. This isn’t for Dione! It’s for the woman. I need to make sure she and her baby are okay.