Silver Bay Read online

  'Are you cross with Mike?' I asked Mum in the end.

  She was a bit shocked. 'No - why do you ask?'

  'You look cross with him.'

  She started to fiddle with her hair. 'I'm not cross, sweetheart. I just don't think it's a good idea to get too close to the guests,' she said. Later I heard her and Auntie K talking in the kitchen, when they thought I was watching telly. The whalechasers were outside and Mum wouldn't go and sit with them, even though they really needed to talk about whether to raise ticket prices. Fuel costs had gone up again. They were always on about fuel costs.

  'I don't understand why you're getting yourself so worked up about everything,' Auntie K was saying.

  'Who says I'm worked up?'

  'That chip out of my dinner-plate?'

  I heard the plate go down on the surface, and Mum's muttered 'Sorry.'

  'Liza, love, you can't hide for ever.'

  'Why? We're happy, aren't we? We do okay?'

  Aunt Kathleen didn't say anything.

  'I can't, okay? It's just not a good idea.'

  'And Greg is?'

  Greg doesn't like Mike. He called him a 'sonofabitch' when Auntie Kathleen was talking to him and he thought nobody could hear.

  Mum's voice was all stressed when she said, 'I just think it's better all round if Hannah and I steer clear of getting . . . involved.' Then she went out. And my aunt made that snorting noise with her nose.

  I looked up 'involved' in the dictionary. It said, 'participating in a romantic or sexual relationship/complicated or difficult to follow'. I showed it to Auntie K to see which one it was, but she stuck her finger on both and said that about summed it up.

  At school, they were talking about the school trip. Sometimes it felt like they talked about nothing else, even though it was months and months away and sometimes our teacher said if we didn't pull our fingers out no one would be going. We were all outside sitting on the long bench in the yard and Katie Taylor asked me if I was coming, and I said I might not be. I didn't want to say anything as she's the kind who twists everything you say, so of course she stood there in front of everyone and said, 'Why? Haven't you got enough money?'

  'It's not because of money,' I said, and went pink because I couldn't say what it was.

  'Why, then? Everyone else in our year is coming.' As usual, she had two pink patches of skin next to her ears because her mum pulls her hair too tight into her clips. Lara reckons that's why she's always mean.

  'Not everyone,' said Lara.

  'Everyone except the dags.'

  'I'm not coming because we're going somewhere else,' I said. I spoke before I'd thought about what I was saying. 'We're going on a trip.'

  Lara nodded, as if she'd known about it for ages.

  'Back to England?'

  'Maybe. Or we might go to the Northern Territory.'

  'So you don't even know where?'

  'Look, her mum hasn't decided yet,' said Lara. She can put on this voice that says not to mess with her. 'Don't be such a stickybeak, Katie. It's none of your business where they go.'

  Later, Lara put her arm through mine when we walked back to hers. My mum was picking me up from there after tea, like she did every Tuesday, and Lara always said it was funny because I liked her house best, just like she said she liked mine. I like the way her family is all noisy and happy even when they're shouting at each other and I like the way her dad's always teasing her, rubbing the soles of her bare feet on his bristly chin and calling her 'Kitten'. Sometimes I think about him when Lance calls me 'Squirt' but it isn't the same. I'd never have a cuddle with Lance the way Lara does with her dad. When Lara's dad once grabbed my feet and rubbed them on his chin I felt embarrassed, like everyone was pretending to include me because I don't have a dad of my own. Lara said she liked it at mine because no one went in your room and through your stuff, and the way Auntie K gives us the key to the Whalechasers Museum and lets us wander around in there without watching what we're up to. Auntie K knew we wouldn't wreck anything, she told us, because we were such good girls. The best girls she knew. I haven't told her about the time Lara nicked one of her mum's cigarettes and we smoked it in the corner behind Maui II until we felt sick.

  'Hannah,' Lara said, when we were at the bottom of her street, and her voice was really kind, like she wanted to show me how much she was still my friend. 'Is it really about money? The reason why you can't come to New Zealand?'

  I chewed my nail. 'It's a bit complicated.'

  'You're my best friend,' she said. 'I wouldn't tell anyone, whatever it is.'

  'I know.' I squeezed her arm. I really would have liked to talk to her about it. But I still wasn't always sure about it myself. All I knew was what Mum had told me - that we couldn't ever leave Australia and that I mustn't talk to anyone about that. Or tell them why.

  And the next day Katie Taylor started going on about it again. She said I couldn't come because the Silver Bay Hotel was broke. Then she said she reckoned it was Auntie K who'd killed the baby whale, just like she'd killed the shark, because it had been in the paper then and everyone knew. She said if I had a dad perhaps I'd be able to join in more school trips, then asked me what his name was, because she knew I couldn't say, and then she laughed in that really sly way until Lara went up to her and gave her a shove. Katie grabbed her hand and bent her fingers back and they had a full-on fight in the yard until Mrs Sherborne came and broke it up.

  'She's a stupid bitch,' said Lara to me, as we walked off to the cloakroom. She was spitting on the floor because some of Katie's hair had ended up in her mouth. 'Don't pay her any attention.' But that was the thing: suddenly I didn't feel mad with Katie, or any of her stupid mates, I felt mad with my mum. Because all I wanted was to do what everyone else did. I get good marks and I never talk about what I'm not supposed to talk about and I don't even talk about Letty half the time when I want to because I'm not allowed to hurt anyone's feelings. So if we could get the money for a trip to New Zealand, like Auntie K said, and absolutely everyone in my class was going - even David Dobbs, who everyone knows still wets his bed and has a mum who takes things from shops without paying - why was it always me who got left out? Why was I the one who always had to say no?

  If you don't count where we came from, I'm the only person in my whole class who has never been further than the Blue Mountains.

  I was still angry when I got home. Mum picked me up and I almost said something but she was so busy thinking about something else that she didn't notice how quiet I was. And then I remembered that we still had this horrible family staying, with two boys who looked at me like I was stupid. And that made me really mad too.

  'Do you have any homework?' she said, when we pulled up outside the hotel. Milly was chewing Mum's torch in the back and I had known all the way back but hadn't stopped her.

  'No,' I said, then climbed out of the car before she could check. I knew she was looking at me, but Katie's words were still in my ears and I wanted to be in my room by myself for a while.

  When I was going up the stairs I saw that Mike's door was open. He was on the phone and I hovered for a minute, not sure whether I should wait for him to finish.

  I think he felt me there because he spun round. 'An S94. Yup, that's it. And he said that should improve our chances a hundred per cent.' He glanced at me. 'Okay - can't talk now, Dennis. I'll ring you back.' Then he put down the phone and smiled a great big smile at me. 'Hello there. How are you doing?'

  'Terrible,' I said, dropping my bag on the floor. 'I hate everyone.' I surprised myself, saying that. I don't normally say that sort of thing. But it made me feel better.

  He didn't try to shush me, or tell me I didn't really feel like that, which is what my aunt usually does, like I don't even know what I'm feeling. He just nodded. 'I have days like that.'

  'Is today?'

  He frowned. 'Is today what?'

  'One of those days. Terrible. A terrible day.'

  He thought for a minute, then shook his head. I tho
ught, as he grinned, that he was almost as handsome as Greg.

  'No,' he said. 'Most days are pretty good at the moment. Here,' he motioned at me to sit down, 'would one of these cheer you up? I've made it my mission to try every Australian biscuit there is.'

  When he pulled open his drawer, I saw he had all my favourites: Iced Vo-Vos, Anzacs, Chocolate Tim Tams and Arnott's Mint Slices. 'You'll get fat,' I warned him.

  'Nope. I go running most morning,' he said. 'I have a good metabolism. And, besides, people worry far too much about all that stuff.'

  He made himself some tea, then sat on the leather chair and I sat at his desk and he let me go on his computer. He showed me a program that lets you change pictures, so just for fun we pulled up another picture of Auntie K and the shark and we drew a big smile on its face, and then I did another where I gave Auntie K a moustache and a pair of really big feet, and had her holding a sign and I wrote in it, 'Shark Lady Toothpaste - For a Brighter Smile'.

  Just as I was finishing, I felt him looking at me. You can do that, you know, make someone turn round if you stare at them hard enough. I felt like he was staring at the back of my head so I spun round really fast and he was. 'Did you have a brother or a sister?' he said. 'The one who died, I mean.'

  I was so shocked to hear someone say it out loud that I nearly spat out my Chocolate Tim Tam. No grown-up talks about Letty. Not straight out like that. Auntie K has this kind of pained look whenever I say her name, like it's too much to bear, and Mum's so sad when I talk about her that I don't like to.

  'A sister,' I said, after a minute. 'Her name was Letty.' Then, when he didn't seem horrified, or look at me like I should be quiet, I said, 'She died when she was five, in a car crash.'

  He shrugged a bit. 'That's really tough,' he said. 'I'm sorry.'

  Suddenly I really wanted to cry. No one has ever said that to me. No one has ever thought about what it was like for me to lose my sister, or said that it might have been horrible for me. No one asks me if I miss her, or whether any of it feels like it was my fault. It's like, because I'm young, my feelings don't matter. I've heard them, they say, 'The young bounce back. She'll heal.' They say, 'Thank goodness she can't remember too much.' And, 'It's the worst thing you can imagine, to lose a child.' But they never say, 'Poor Hannah, losing her favourite person in the whole world.' They never say, 'Okay, Hannah. Let's talk about Letty. Let's talk about all the things you miss about her, and all the things that make you sad.' But I didn't feel I could say that to him: it's locked too deep inside, somewhere I've learnt it's best to keep hidden. So when the tears came I pretended I was upset about the school trip and I told him about Katie Taylor teasing me, and about the money and how I was the only person in my whole class who couldn't go. And before long it had worked so well that I'd managed not to think about Letty, just about the school trip and how awful it would be when everyone went off to New Zealand without me and that made me cry.

  Mike handed me his handkerchief and pretended to be interested in something outside while I pulled myself together. He sat quietly until I had stopped sniffing and then he leant forward, looked me straight in the eye, and said, 'Okay, Hannah McCullen. I'm going to make you a business proposition.'

  Mike Dormer asked me to take photographs around the bay. He went to the shop and bought three disposable cameras and said he would pay me a dollar for every good shot I could take. He said that when he went home his friends would want to know what he'd been up to and he wasn't much of a photographer so I should take pictures of all round the bay so that he could show them where he'd been and all the nicest spots. Then he asked me to write him a list of all the things that were good about my school, and about Silver Bay, and all the things that would improve it. 'Like the fact that our bus broke down and we haven't got a new one? Or that our library is still in mobile buildings?'

  'Exactly like that,' he said, handing me a pad of paper. 'Not who you like at school, or that stupid girl who teased you, but a project. A bit of proper research.'

  He said he would pay me a good salary, depending on how well I did. 'But I want a really professional job,' he said. 'Not some fobbed-off piece of nonsense. Do you think you're up to it?'

  I nodded, because I was excited at the idea of earning some money. Mike said if I worked hard enough there was no reason whatsoever why I shouldn't be able to afford to go to New Zealand with my friends.

  'But how long are you staying?' I asked him. I was trying to work out how much time I had to earn the money and whether, if I showed Mum I had enough, she'd feel she couldn't say no. And he said his departure date was one of life's imponderables, and I almost asked him what that meant but I didn't want him to think I was stupid, so I just nodded again, like I do when Yoshi starts talking about stuff I don't understand.

  Then I showed Auntie K the pictures we had doctored of her and the shark and she raised her eyes and said God in Heaven was never going to let her forget it.

  The weird thing about that night was that I felt happy. If I'd gone straight to my room, like I'd planned, I know I would have been sad all night, but we had a good time, almost like it was a party.

  The guests had gone out for the night, so I didn't have to look at those freckly boys with their stupid stares every time I walked past the lounge. Lance had had a win on the horses - he called them gee-gees - and bought everyone pizza in a great big stack of boxes. He told Auntie Kathleen that for once she should put her feet up, and Mike might be her guest but he was part of the ruddy furniture now so she didn't have to worry about him. And Mike had this little smile like he didn't want anyone to see but he was pleased to be part of the furniture, and then he let me eat all the salami off the top of his pizza because it's my favourite.

  Richard and Tom from the other Moby came to join us and said they'd seen a pod of five whales out by Break Nose Island that afternoon, and they'd had an American tourist who had been so happy to see them that he'd given them a fifty-dollar tip each. And then Mr Gaines stopped by with some wine that Auntie Kathleen said was far too good for the likes of us, but she opened both bottles anyway, and they started on about the Old Days, which is what they talk about a lot when they're together.

  Greg wasn't there. The others said he hadn't been out on his boat for four days. Auntie K said breaking up with someone could do that to you, and that some people found it harder than others. I asked her where he was, and she said probably at the bottom of a bottle somewhere. The first time she ever said that to me I thought it was really funny because there was no bottle big enough in the whole of Australia to fit a grown man in, especially Greg, who is quite tall.

  It was a cold evening, but all the burners were lit and we were squashed up on the bench, apart from Lance and Yoshi who were together on the big chair, and Auntie Kathleen and Mr Gaines who were on two wicker chairs with cushions, because Auntie Kathleen said at their age they deserved a little comfort. Mum was sitting on the other side of me and when I finished my drink I told her about Mike's business proposition and her face did that thing it does when she's about to stop me doing something and my pizza went all dry in my mouth.

  'Paying her money? You're paying her to take photographs?'

  Mike took a sip of his wine. 'You think I should give her money for nothing?'

  'You're as bad as Greg,' she said, not in a good way.

  'I'm nothing like Greg. And you know it.'

  'Don't use her, Mike,' she whispered, as if I couldn't hear. 'Don't use her to try to get close to me, because it won't work.'

  But Mike didn't look bothered. 'I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because Hannah is an exceptionally nice kid and I need some jobs done. If I hadn't asked her, I'd only have had to ask someone else and, frankly, I'd rather work with Hannah.'

  He bit off a great big piece of his pizza and when he spoke again his mouth was full. I tried not to think about being an exceptionally nice kid. I thought I might be getting a bit of a crush on Mike.

  'Anyway,' he said, as he chewed, 'you're v
ery presumptuous. Who says I want to get close to you?'

  There was a short silence as Mum looked at him quite sharply. Then I saw her mouth quiver, like she didn't really want to smile but couldn't help it, and I relaxed because if she was going to stop me earning the money she would have said so there and then.

  She kept staring at her fingers, like she was thinking about something. 'What are these photographs for?' she said.

  Mike licked his fingers. 'I can't tell you that. Commercial privilege. Hannah, not a word,' he said. But he was smiling too.

  'She's a good photographer,' she said.

  'She should be. She's charging me way above the market rate.'

  'How much are you paying her?'

  'That's privileged information too.' He winked at me. 'If you're saying you'd like to undercut your own daughter, I'd be happy to hear what you can offer.'

  I didn't understand what they were talking about, but they seemed happy so I stopped worrying. I was trying to work out if I could steal some of Mike's beer without Mum noticing.

  'So how long are you staying?' she asked.

  Just as he was about to answer we saw headlights appear along the coast road. We were quiet as they drew closer, trying to see who it was - Greg's truck has fog lights on the front, so we knew it wasn't him. 'It'll be the bookies,' said Mr Gaines, leaning towards Lance, 'come to tell you your last horse has just finished its race.' And Lance, whose mouth was full, raised his beer bottle to him, like a salute.

  But it was a taxi. As it pulled up at the bottom, Auntie Kathleen got out from behind the table, muttering that there was no rest for the wicked. 'I've got no food left,' she said. 'I hope they don't want feeding.'

  'Well?' said Mum, turning to Mike. 'You haven't answered my question.'

  I was waiting too, because I wanted to know. But Auntie Kathleen, who was walking back up the drive with someone's suitcase, distracted me. Behind her was a girl, quite young with very straight blonde hair and a soft pink cardigan wrapped round her shoulders. She was wearing high-heeled shoes with sequins, like she was going to a party, and as she walked the lights from the hotel made them sparkle. Auntie K came up to him, eyebrows raised, and dropped the suitcase in front of him. 'Someone to see you,' she said.