Читать книгу Bass Point Boys - Cate Beresford - Страница 2

Roy had been hiding in the cave that morning and ventured out for a short walk to the nearby gravel beach. It was then, that he saw the woman, down where elements of bush, beach and ocean meet.

The waves lapped the edge of fine particles which spewed out from the hundred- year-old blue metal quarry where once it was said that red cedars grew. Swimmers were rare, bar local surfers who regularly hung-five as they lapped up the hollows in the area named The Shallows. Hodads regularly came to watch when the big guns were around, but this morning it was quiet, and the woman walked alone. She stopped for a moment, dipping her toes to test the water’s temperature as her small toy Groodle played with the waves as they washed ashore. It was warm enough to invite her in, and she waded through the gentle whitewash, seemingly unperturbed by the roughness of grit on her bare feet whilst her pooch swam alongside.

That summer had been hotter than usual and whilst fire raged around the South Coast not far away, it had bi-passed the natural reserve where the woman now swam. Bass Point was well known by tourists and locals who visited regularly, trying to learn more about its centuries’ old history and discover the shipwrecks and fish which swam in the sanctuary of the marine reserve.

Roy knew the Bass Point Reserve was now heritage-listed, though after settlement, it had been mined for basalt and cedar. Before this, it was an Aboriginal meeting place, called Wonwin by its original owners and was inhabited by the Wadi Wadi tribe. They remained on the coastal plains during the warmer months; taking advantage of its abundant marine resources and moved in the cool winter months to higher ground and rock shelters closer to the escarpment.(¹) Now though, it was a nature conservation and passive recreation area.

They called it the coastal jewel and Bass Point was located just south of Shellharbour Village, close to where a new marina was being built. Arguments had gone on for years about the marina as locals tried unsuccessfully to delay the developer’s hand. The area was known for its rare and common flora and fauna and some say a rare bird inhabited the nearby swamplands. Now though, it was busy as the new estate grew out of the space where it had been a haven for local birds and environmentalists.

The four kilometre stretch of surrounding waters around Bass Point was a marine sanctuary and some knew the spot well and raped the sea, catching undersized fish to sell or make into fish cakes for restaurants who would be happy to pay for those who gave up their life to be minced. It was a well- known practice, though difficult to police and many locals would take it upon themselves to scorn those who were seen with a rod or a bucket.

Lifesavers were kept busy during the summer months as tourists jostled for their space on the nearby Shellharbour beach. Yet further along the gravelled shoreline, it was quiet, and the woman enjoyed her time alone. A capable swimmer, she seemed to enjoy the refreshing water as Roy stayed further away, hidden by the overgrowth of the hideous lantana weed. The reserve had succumbed to its noxious, incessantness to overtake and Roy likened it to man.

He watched as her body slipped below the surface.The boulders offered smaller temperate fish, the pleasure of being seen to those who are brave enough to snorkel where bull rays and sharks patrol. Still early, Roy stayed, hoping no others would yet venture there and see him.

As she dived again, he took this as a sign and made his move. She’d left her bag on the rock and he’d waited patiently. When she was far enough away, he skulked down, keeping a watchful eye on the dog swimming round, trying to find its owner who’d gone beneath the surface of the waves.

He approached her belongings just as she surfaced and floated for a moment, on the rolling waves, enjoying the sun as its rays broke through the clouds which had drifted over. With his back to the water, Roy bent down to scoop up the bag, wondering whether its contents may include some small change he could use. Busy in ransacking its contents, he was startled when the woman approached, speaking calmly.

‘Hey there. Are you OK?’

‘Uh, yeah, I, um, I,’ Roy stood back. Not knowing whether to run or face the woman, his upbringing made him think better of the first, and instead, he turned to apologise.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t, I mean I didn’t mean to.’

The woman looked at the bedraggled appearance of the boy who stood before him and immediately understood. She had dealt with kids like this before, runaways who leave home because of an abusive or difficult upbringing and yet going back to their basic instincts to take responsibility where it had been ingrained. It was unusual these days - respect - most families were too busy working or too tired to rare their kids to be polite and left that for the schools to own.

Parents paid top dollars for new private schools popping up all over the area, so they could feel good about giving their kids the best education as the public system appeared to be failing them. Yet it was often these same public schools who graduated the highest achievers. Private education allowed options for those who clung to old fashioned standards and wanted their child to have sound morals and ethics ingrained into all aspects of their life. It seemed though, it was really society who was failing most as work and time became their true enemy.

Yet Roy was different. He had come from a family who already held these old-fashioned ideals and his eyes showed his gentle nature. She stood waiting for him to run, but instead, he stood before her, as though waiting for his punishment, and she held out her hand.

Automatically Roy returned the bag and its contents, then turned to walk away.

‘I understand,’ she called after him.

Turning back, he smiled. Like most older people, she hadn't yelled at him or given him a scornful look. Instead, the woman’s body language was non-threatening, and he felt her kindness.

She added quietly; ‘you look lost, can I take you home?’

Roy paused - his mind caught in the whirlwind of last night’s events.

‘No, I’m ok,’ he replied, then added ‘Ah, thanks.’

She smiled and scooped up her towel as the dog sat calmly at her feet. Then she called him back and gave him a card from the bag.

‘Here’s my phone number, and some money. You look like you could use some.’

As he held out his hand, he looked at her soft face and saw a warmth like his own mum’s, then felt remorseful for what he’d done.

‘If you ever need anything, anyone, I live locally,’ she suggested. ‘You are welcome to stay with me if you need a bed, a space, or just to talk’

She smiled as though thinking of a memory that touched her, then gave him the card and walked back to her car.

Roy smiled as he looked at her name. Jane Cordyline.

‘Funny name, Cordyline,’ he thought. ‘Like the colourful red plant in mum’s garden.’ She had planted them to brighten the space around the house, knowing they needed little water in the drought that had invaded the country as climate change wrapped its fingers around mother nature and brought havoc to its soul.

Roy watched until she was inside her car and as she turned the ignition, Jane, looked back and waved. He half waved back then walked back to the bush where he’d been hiding. As he passed a thicket of thistle, he went to throw the card underneath but for reasons he didn’t know, except it seemed the respectful thing to do, tucked it instead, into what was left of his shirt pocket.

If it was going to be home for the moment, Roy decided he needed to explore every part of the landscape. He had only ever known the warmth of his own home. Four walls, his own bedroom, a comfy lounge and the love of his mum who cooked his breakfast each day. Now, as he wandered along the dirt road which wound through to the Bass Point car-park, he realised this would be his home.

With dust collecting on his shoes, his mood changed from feelings of deep hurt, to anger, along then deep depression. He was angry with the world and his parents. It wasn't his fault that he had ADD and it wasn't his fault he wasn't able to achieve A grades. It wasn't his fault he couldn't sleep. Though he realised it was his fault he drank and deceived his parents through drinking. He knew he was underage and he had learned through the programs at school what drinking and drugs did. Yet he had chosen to drink because it was a quick fix.

As he trudged along, he kicked the stones. With each one, he yelled into the bush

'I hate you. I hate me. I hate the world. I hate that I did this. I hate that dad kicked me out. I just hate.'

Roy stopped occasionally to sit by the side of the road and cry. Fine particles of dust were thrust into his space as impatient P-Platers raced past and he covered his face each time, yelling at them too.

'Idiots, can't you see me here!'

Eventually, he arrived in the car-park area where he knew it would soon be filled with tourists and divers and found a rock out on the furthest point of Bass Point to sit on. As he looked out onto the ocean, his mind was blank. Away from peering eyes, Roy watched as the waves rolled in, feeling as though each were like a tide of emotion washing over him. He placed his backpack on the rock, took off his shoes and carefully climbed over the boulders, down to a space where he could slip in. Just as he was almost level with the water, Roy heard someone scream out;

'Don't! It's too dangerous there to go swimming. You have to go around to Bushranger's Bay if you want to swim!'

It startled Roy and he jumped back up onto higher ground. If he wanted to take his own life, it wasn't meant for this moment and he shook himself, feeling a sense of relief.

Roy wandered back as far as he could along the edge of the coastline, climbing over boulders and occasionally slipping into the rock-pools which supported marine life as they waited for the high tide to take them back into the ocean. Intermittently, he stopped, bending down to touch one of the periwinkles or anemones on the edges. He admired how they survived the wave of time as they waited until their thirst was quenched by the salty waters when finally, they were washed back in.

In the end, he reached the Archway just south of Bushranger's Bay. Running at right angles to the shoreline, it was impressive at three to five metres in height and gave way to a cave.

His mind still feeling broken, Roy wandered back to the shelter under the stairs as darkness began to close in. He tried to process his parent’s decision and the predicament he found himself in. Tired and bereft of emotion, he curled into a ball under and feel asleep as the sounds of the night began to lull him to sleep. For now, the stairs were enough and he felt safe.