Ora's Gold Page 7

  ‘But they would know that from my MBD registration.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know why they called me but they did.’

  There’s a silence, which I know I’m meant to fill. He’s waiting for me to tell him. But not a word comes out. I clutch the phone tightly … maybe they are listening in, this could be a trap!

  Finally, he says, ‘Alright. Well. I’m going now, but stay away from trouble. D’you hear?’

  ‘Yes, Dad.’

  ‘And you can tell me if Dione’s up to no good.’

  Another silence.

  ‘I’ll try and get down there after Easter,’ he says gruffly.

  ‘Bye, Dad,’ I say meekly.

  Dione gets up and takes the phone out of my hand.

  ‘I’ll make some tea,’ she says with a sigh.

  I stand for ages. My brain won’t work.

  ‘The SIF,’ I say. My eyes feel too big. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not when I’m just beginning to feel good again. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘We’ll work it out,’ she says, bringing the tea to the table. ‘I thought something was up yesterday. The cottage had a funny feel to it. Like someone had been in there.’

  ‘What?’ I say, fear writhing in my gut. ‘They were here yesterday? How could you keep that from me?’ My skin prickles with indignation.

  ‘I wasn’t a hundred percent certain, Ora. And I didn’t want to worry you,’ she says, stalling the anger that’s about to explode. ‘You’ve been upset enough already.’

  I take a deep breath. My heart is thumping.

  ‘I’m really scared, Dione.’

  We sit in silence. I can almost hear her mind turning over.

  ‘Well, the good news is they don’t have any solid evidence, otherwise they’d have cleaned us out already.’

  Momentary relief.

  ‘I’m guessing it was an anonymous tip-off.’

  ‘None of your women would snitch on you.’

  ‘I know, but that father from the other day …’

  I nod slowly. Of course.

  ‘He wasn’t happy when he came to pick her up.’ She looks at me regretfully. ‘We have to think of a plan. The SIF are bound to pay us a visit any day now, and I don’t want you here when they do. You’re not up to talking to them.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to Dad’s.’

  She nods. ‘The less he knows the better. We need to hide you for a few days, just until they’ve come officially. I’m sure they won’t find anything, but we can’t risk you being here. Not with that birth being so recent.’ She pauses. ‘Shit!’ She gets up and starts pacing. ‘That stupid couple. I only took them on last month. I didn’t want to. I wanted to stop.’

  She bangs the bench with her fist and stares out the window.

  ‘I’ve got it!’ she turns to me suddenly, looking pleased. ‘We’ll hide you up the mountain. I can tell them you’ve gone to stay with friends and be all vague. How do you fancy going bush for a few days?’ she says with a broad grin, as if we haven’t a care in the world.

  Before I can form a reply, she rushes on.

  ‘You can take my camping gear. I’ve got enough food that will travel light, and the forecast is great for the next few days. I’ll come and get you once the SIF have been.’

  ‘Couldn’t I go to Melissa’s?’

  ‘Too risky. They might start investigating Tom and Sarah.’

  ‘I don’t know, Dione, this is all feeling too rushed.’ But I don’t have any other ideas, except going to Dad’s. The SIF will come looking for me wherever I am, if they decide they want me. I force a load of air into my lungs. I can’t breathe properly.

  Dione packs food and water for me and talks me through pitching her tent. She wants me to go beyond where we’ve walked, right into the bush.

  It’s well into the night by the time we’re ready. We head out together, thankful for the moon, and walk for an hour in silence.

  ‘Right,’ Dione says, coming to a stop, all matter of fact. ‘I’ll be up in a few days. If I’m not, just come back down again, okay? I’ll cover everything up as best I can. And remember, you know nothing.’

  ‘But this doesn’t feel right! How will you find me? Can’t you come with me?’

  ‘You know I can’t, I’ve got to make the birth suite look like a spa as soon as I get back, in case they discover it’s down there.’ She gives me a quick hug and points up the mountain. ‘It’ll take you most of the day to get to the top of that ridge. Camp somewhere along it, but just below and make sure you hide the tent as much as you can. Go easy on the water.’ She gives my shoulder a squeeze. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll hear me coming.’

  I nod slowly.

  ‘And one more thing. If ever it comes down to it, which it won’t but just in case … it was me at that birth. You never even met them, okay?’ She squeezes my shoulder hard this time.

  I could turn into a zombie right now. Tune out. Sink down right here. But I start walking as fast as I can under the heavy pack. The water weighs so much.

  I need to move faster than my fears are building. Already they’re bombarding my being, a steady stream of fighter jets.

  13

  Who’s there?

  It’s dark by the time I’ve pitched the stupid tent. I’m too tired to eat. The sleeping bag is musty and there’s a big rock or root running all the way underneath me, so whichever side I move to, I can still feel it. I don’t sleep all night. There are too many sounds penetrating the canvas, assaulting my senses. The shrill cry of an animal before it gets devoured. That will be me next. A persistent scratching just beyond my head. The wind tearing through the branches above. I hate it up here. I remember the story about the camper who was crushed by a falling tree limb when he got up to pee in the middle of the night. Death by tree. The branches above me are creaking. I try to imagine a good story where the camper gets up and his tent is flattened instead of him … Damn! I need to pee.

  The first day drags on forever. I can’t decide whether I’m safer in the tent or outside it. I spend the whole time jumping sky-high and bracing myself for the inevitable team of SIF officers, swarming up the mountain, here to arrest me.

  By the third night I am so sleep-deprived, I start hallucinating. Lion and Snake attack a sniper who is waiting for me behind a bush. They rip him apart. Silently. Then, I don’t know what to do with his body parts. Or his gun. The SIF will definitely kill me now. I will keep the gun.

  But in the morning it’s gone and so have his remains. A cooling glug of water brings me back to earth.

  I wish Dione would come. Maybe they’ve got her? What if I never see her again? What if she’s told them? Should I confess?

  Sleep. I just want to sleep. On the fourth night I stop hating the tent and cannot believe it when I wake up after the sun has risen. I eat the last of my nuts, I venture over the ridge. The land is beautiful.

  I see a snake. It’s real.

  I go to sleep with the sun.

  Day six … or is it day seven?

  Still waiting up here.

  The sky is big. Pinpricks dance inside the blue. The ocean is up there too. And the smell—maybe the taste?—of the mountain air is sweet and dry.

  Up here, in the middle of nowhere, I think about Mum and Holly.

  And Dad.

  And the SIF.

  A circle of rocks is around my fire. The circle is perfect. The flames are beautiful.

  Where is Dione?

  There are no people sounds up here. No drills, no engines. I’m just sitting, lying, on the earth. On my mother. Snake said that. The earth is my mother. Lion is my father.

  I’m lulled by the trees, the breeze. Birdsong.

  There is no fear. No SIF. No women birthing underground.

  Sometimes I’m angry with Dione, sometimes I miss her. She was going to stop. For me. Why did she say yes to that couple? That spineless man. That stupid woman.

  It’s so hot today. I’m moving slowly—there’s nothing to do.

&
nbsp; Dark clouds fill the afternoon sky. It’s hot and clammy. A thunderstorm in February?

  Snap!

  I’m up, alert, cells out on stalks.

  Panic rises in the back of my throat. I half squat, half kneel towards the sound, pick up one of the rocks from my campfire. A big one.

  Crack!

  It’s definitely someone. There’s a footfall, and another snap.

  It’s not Dione. She’d call my name.

  My once-camouflaged tent now looks like a neon beacon. I oscillate; stay low, still on the ground, or run as quickly as I can? I crouch down like an animal, close to the earth.

  ‘Ora?’ A loud whisper. A man’s voice through the trees. And again, urgently, ‘Ora!’

  ‘Friend or foe? Friend or foe?’ I want to shout, and feel ridiculous and hysterical and wild, remembering the game I used to play with Holly in the forest.

  ‘Ora, it’s me, Jake … from the beach … Where are you?’

  Jake! I almost stand up. What is he doing here?

  He’s heading straight for my tent.

  Is he with the SIF?

  I drop my rock and start pelting down the mountain, pounding my feet on the earth, hell-bent on getting away. But his legs are swifter and longer.

  ‘Stop!’ he shouts.

  There’s no way I’m giving up.

  He tackles me. The ground crashes up to meet me and we lie panting. He’s still holding me.

  ‘Sorry.’ His voice is deep. ‘But you wouldn’t stop. Your aunt asked me to come …’

  I’m breathing heavily, my nose just a few centimetres from the ground. He lets go and eases himself into a sitting position, leaning over me, ready to catch me if I take off. I roll onto my back. We stare at each other for a long time, eyes blazing, energy firing. I’m suddenly distracted by what he’s wearing. I’ve only ever seen him in his beach gear. I like his black T-shirt … Wait, really? I’m having a fashion moment now?

  ‘Ora—’ He looks like he’s coaxing a kitten out from under a car. His lips move, but at first I don’t hear what he’s saying. Then I tune in.

  ‘—to bring you some food and stuff. Dione’s under surveillance, that’s why she can’t come. She’s worried they’re going to send a search party up here. She says you need to leave and get as far away as you can. They might bring dogs.’

  ‘It’s not Dee-on,’ I correct him, willing him to feel stupid. He’s just tackled me like a sack of potatoes.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s not Dee-on, it’s Dee-OH-nee.’

  He shrugs. ‘She hid a note in my towel on the beach yesterday, when I was swimming.’

  I look around, bracing myself for SIF officers to jump out of the bushes. I’ve spent hours near this guy, imagining all sorts of things. But not this.

  ‘Look.’ He pulls out a tatty note from his back pocket. The paper with the spiral motif, from Dione’s notepad. I recognise her writing,

  Dear Jake, we met once at the beach. Please help! I’ve just been released by the SIF after days of questioning and am under surveillance. Because Ora lives with me, she is now wanted for questioning too. She’s hiding out on Mount Best (see map below) and needs to move on from the ridge ASAP. If she follows the creek bed as far as she can go and then takes the track into the town she’ll be safer there. I’ve enclosed money for her to stay at the Best Inn and will contact her soon. Thank you in advance, if you do help. I’m sure you know it’s risky. Yours hopefully, Dione. PS She will have run out of food by now. PPS Please destroy this note.

  She must be desperate! If the SIF had got hold of this note we’d be toast. I tear it into tiny pieces and bury it in the soil. What if the SIF had seen her plant the note? Dione can’t be thinking straight.

  I sigh and sit up, getting ready to talk. Jake is not one of them. He’s taken a huge risk coming up here for two people he doesn’t even know. He’s talking again, and looking at me earnestly.

  ‘…I hate them’ is all I hear—I keep getting distracted by his eyes. I sit up straighter and focus on his words. ‘And when Melissa told me she knew you … and last year my friend got taken in …’

  I’m finding it hard to keep up—I haven’t had a conversation in nearly a week and I’ve got no idea what he’s saying.

  ‘I remember all those protests and rallies, I thought it was just a load of hype, but the SIF are out of control now and like I said, he didn’t do anything, just a bit of street art.’

  As he unravels the details of his friend’s trauma—graffiti is a very big sin in the eyes of the SIF—I understand why he’s sitting here with me on the forest floor, and a small frond of trust begins to unfurl towards him. His friend was bullied and shamed by the SIF, and hasn’t been the same since.

  I’m enjoying the sound of his voice when my stomach interrupts us with an embarrassing gurgle and he breaks off, noticing me looking at his backpack.

  He grins. ‘Hungry?’

  After a couple of days without food, I need something fresh and light.

  ‘Don’t suppose you brought any fruit? Or an avocado?’ He pulls out a paper bag and there, unbelievably, is a small avocado. I don’t care how mutated it is.

  ‘Thank you!’ I say. He smiles, and for the second time I feel my energy lurching towards him.

  He’s got his knife out and has already cut the avocado in two. I am so hungry. He gives me one half, then removes the stone and holds out the other. I gesture for him to have it but he shakes his head and presses it firmly in my hand.

  The skin peels away easily and I bite into the soft, firm texture. My tastebuds are going wild, sending fireworks into my brain. They don’t care the food’s been messed with or normally tastes like cardboard. I have to force myself to take small bites, to savour it—I just want to stuff the whole thing into my mouth. After a few more mouthfuls, I realise he’s watching me.

  ‘Thank you,’ I manage, looking up. My pleasure in the taste makes me sound all sensuous, and I pick up a banana, feeling the colour flame my cheeks. I can feel him smiling but can’t look up. Our bodies are so close. This is far too intimate. Maybe he senses this, because he shifts back. I want him to move in towards me again, but carry on with my banana meditation as another kind of yearning dances in my belly. I finish chewing and force myself to look at him. He’s clearly comfortable with the silence.

  ‘You did well finding me,’ I say, needing to take control.

  ‘You reckon? I’ve been up here for hours! I was just about to head back when I saw your tent.’

  ‘Dodgy positioning.’ I smile at him again.

  A drop of rain hits my face. I look up and realise there’s only about an hour of light left. ‘You won’t have time to get back down,’ I say, thinking aloud.

  ‘That’s okay, I can find my way in the dark.’

  ‘The clouds will cover the moon. Have you got a torch?’

  He doesn’t.

  ‘You’d better stay.’ Did I say that too quickly?

  He clears his throat. ‘I’ll go in the morning then. Looks like a storm is going to break anyway, so the SIF won’t do anything tonight.’

  ‘They’ll be too busy monitoring the water.’

  Another pause.

  ‘Okay then,’ he nods.

  And just like that, it’s decided.

  He’s moving in.

  We get up stiffly and start walking back to the tent. I feel like a hermit who’s lived a thousand years in solitude and lost her voice … I have no idea what to say. Thankfully, the rain takes over and we break into a run. By the time we get to the tent it’s pouring, and we dash and fumble into my cocoon. His backpack snags on the entrance and once he’s pulled it in, I surprise myself by zipping us in.

  I turn back towards him slowly.

  The light is fading fast, and it makes his smile seem huge. He leans back on his elbow and looks around the tent.

  ‘This is pretty comfortable.’ He definitely looks comfortable.

  ‘Yeah,’ I manage, deciding to take off my boot
s. He sits up and does the same, maybe out of politeness, maybe because he doesn’t like mud in the tent either.

  The downpour has passed but thunder is rumbling in the distance. I open the zip, needing more space, and the wet-dry scent of rain on parched earth hits me. I can't believe it, it's been so long since it's rained!

  ‘That smells so good,’ I say, to drown out the annoying voice singing in my head, Jake is here! Jake is here. In my tent! With me!

  ‘So,’ he says. ‘Are you still swimming like a mad woman?’

  My jaw drops at his cheek and I quickly make it drop further so I look dramatic on purpose.

  ‘I could ask you the same question,’ I say, sitting with my arms wrapped around my knees, determined to keep some distance between us. I need to work him out.

  ‘Every day,’ he says. ‘I swim in a squad at another beach, but that one’s the best.’

  ‘Do you compete?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah. I used to all the time—I got entered in the nationals but then the ocean bans came in, and I moved overseas anyway. Killed my chances of getting anywhere.’

  He looks a bit wistful but doesn’t say more, which unnerves me—most people like to go on talking about themselves, especially when asked the right questions.

  ‘And you’re a lifesaver, right?’

  He nods. ‘I just finished my training up north, although I’ve done a lot of helping out already. What about you? Why do you swim so much?’

  ‘Oh, I just like the sea.’

  ‘Without a wetsuit?’ he pushes, but I just smile.

  More silence. He’s waiting for more.

  ‘Do you live near the beach?’ I ask, feeling myself wanting to tell him more. To tell him why I started going to the ocean as much as I could.

  ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I grew up just around the corner from that beach. I still swim there because there usually aren’t any rips. And there are some interesting people who hang out there, too.’ He smiles at me broadly.

  ‘Do you work?’ I ask. It must sound like I’ve ignored his flirty remark, but I’m only just registering it.

  ‘Yeah, part-time job at the surf shop,’ he says. ‘Need something to get me through uni.’