17
Heath
Heath glanced up at the powder-blue sky, thinking he’d sit outside to have his lunch. The warm sun on his bare arms soothed his soul as he settled into a green sun lounger outside his workshop. Smokey the cat was mooching nearby, and seagulls flew overhead, making their way to Sandly Beach.
A wave of peace filled every fibre of his being as he closed his eyes to take ten minutes to relax and forget about life for a while.
‘Heath,’ called Tyler.
Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.
He smiled to himself as he opened his eyes. ‘What’s up, Ty?’
‘Stan just came in the garden centre.’
‘I’ll assume there’s a point to that sentence.’
Tyler stretched out one arm towards the driveway. ‘Yes. He asked if we had an event on that he didn’t know about.’
Heath sat forward, cracking his back and neck as he rolled his shoulders over. Why his little brother was going around the houses with something he clearly wanted to say was beyond him. He lowered his chin and raised his brow.
Tyler pursed his lips for a moment, tightened his fists, then let go of the tension he was obviously clinging to.
‘Spit it out, Ty.’
‘Well, the thing is, you see—’
‘Ty.’
‘Stan asked me that because of the people parked on our grass up by the entrance.’ He dropped back to one heel as he exhaled.
Heath narrowed his eyes as he glanced towards the main house. ‘Who’s parked where?’ He stood and started to slowly walk forward.
Tyler stepped to his side. ‘They’re having a picnic.’
‘Who is?’
‘I don’t know. Strangers.’ Tyler jumped in front of him. ‘I went up there to check it out, and it’s true. There are three cars on our land and a load of people sitting around on blankets, eating sausage rolls.’
The calm morning Heath was having died a sudden death as rage burned heavily in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t the first time tourists had planted themselves on Silver land. The last lot left behind a ton of rubbish, tyre marks in the grass, and not one ounce of care for the property rights of the locals.
‘Did you tell them they’re on private land, Ty?’
Tyler nodded sheepishly. ‘They didn’t seem to care.’
Heath picked up the pace as he marched to the entrance of Silver Wish Farm.
‘It’s okay, Heath. I called the police.’
Sod the police. I’ve had just about as much as I can take.
Litter was strewn across the grass close to the entrance, and two young children were tugging down branches on one of the growing Christmas trees over the other side of the driveway. A couple of women were playing catch with a tennis ball whilst their unleashed dog dug a hole in the ground. Music was blaring, alcohol was flowing, and no one seemed to care that one toddler was sitting in the middle of the drive.
Heath halted in his tracks to assess the situation. His gaping mouth and wide eyes soon changed to tight lips and angry squint.
‘Let the police deal with them,’ said Tyler, catching up to him.
Heath approached the nearest person.
A man around his own age, with blond hair, sunglasses, no top, and colourful beach shorts, offered a bottle of beer towards Heath’s outstretched hand.
‘Beer, mate?’
‘You can’t park here.’
The man made a show of lifting his hand to his ear as if to say he couldn’t hear Heath over the music blaring from his blue convertible.
‘You can’t park here,’ yelled Heath.
The man smirked and turned away.
Right!
Heath leaned in the car and switched off the radio.
‘Oi!’ The man squared up to Heath’s big frame, glanced up, then took a couple of steps backwards.
Heath glared at him. ‘This is private property. You can’t picnic here.’
‘We’re not doing any harm,’ shouted a middle-aged woman, sitting on a blue check blanket, waving one hand in the air as if to wave him away.
Heath side-eyed the mess around her section alone. That was enough to fire him up again. ‘Get off my land. You’re trespassing.’
‘All right, all right,’ said another man, this one taller and wider than the last. ‘Keep your hair on, mate. It’s just a bit of grass. No need to pull out the deeds or anything.’
‘Move your cars,’ Heath yelled, clenching his fists and slamming one down on the bonnet on the blue car.
A younger lady stood, gathering her children and blanket. ‘Sorry, love. We’ll go. Honestly, we didn’t know this land belonged to anyone.’
Heath gave her a nod of acknowledgement, pleased to see at least one of the adults was sensible. He watched her pack up her things and head over to a white car close to where the dog had left a muddy hole.
‘I’m not moving,’ said the first man, giving Heath a shove in the chest.
It was as though a hefty weight came crashing down upon Heath’s shoulders in one big whoosh, and he could take no more. ‘If you don’t move your car, I’ll move it myself,’ he yelled, fist bouncing in the air.
The man rattled his car keys. ‘Good luck with that, mate.’
Heath turned on his heel and headed back to the farm, with Tyler in hot pursuit.
‘What are you going to do, Heath?’ The nerves in his little brother’s voice didn’t go unnoticed, but he was too riled to care.
If he wants war, I’ll give him war.
Heath headed for a large barn, grabbed the keys from a box on the wall, jumped on board a shiny red tractor, and started the engine on the beast.
‘No,’ Tyler yelled, flapping his arms as though directing air traffic. ‘Don’t do it, Heath.’
There was no stopping him now. The hairs on the back of his neck were pricked, his eyes held fire, and every inch of his being was alive with rage. Even the butterflies in his stomach held pitchforks whilst marching on the spot. Mr Convertible was about to bear the brunt of twenty-one years of one man’s torment and pain.
The big machine purred loudly as it climbed the drive, making a beeline for the surprised trespasser’s one-year-old car.
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ shouted the tourist.
Watch me.
Heath kept driving forward and didn’t stop when his tractor ploughed into the sports car, with a loud bang. The car started to slide across the grass, flicking up blades and mud in every direction, causing all watching wide eyes to flinch away.
The car owner stood frozen to the spot, mouth open, and hand on head.
Heath wasn’t done. He pushed the convertible straight through the fence until it hit the road outside his property. The vehicle caught on the tarmac, tipped on its side, then, and only then, did he reverse.
The others on his land quickly moved their cars out to the road, where all occupants stared silently at the upturned vehicle, then gawped at the crushed fence as police sirens filled the air.
Tyler raced to Heath’s side as he climbed out the tractor. ‘Oh my God!’ He slapped one hand to his mouth as a muffled laugh escaped.
It was Fran’s voice Heath heard next. He glanced over his shoulder to see her running his way, with Rhett and Florence close behind.
‘What the hell have you done, son?’ Fran clasped her knees, catching her breath as two policemen approached. ‘Brian,’ she said, jogging his way and placing one hand on the officer’s chest. ‘Don’t blame Heath.’
Brian waited till she removed her palm from his police radio. ‘Fran, he just killed a car with his tractor. How am I supposed to get him out of that?’
‘They were trespassing,’ said Tyler, pointing their way. ‘Refused to move. That one even pushed Heath. And look…’
All eyes scanned the rubbish left on the grass.
Brian huffed and shook his head. ‘I know all too well what some visitors to the island can do.’
Rhett stepped to Heath’s side. She slammed her hands on her hips and glared over at the tourist shouting abusive words in amongst his sentences to the other police officer. ‘They’ve got a cheek coming up here thinking they can do what they like. Look at the state of the place. Were they going to clean it up? Of course they weren’t. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to deal with this, and what do your lot do about it? Nothing, that’s what.’
‘Calm down, Rhett. I’m dealing with it now,’ said Brian.
She shook her head as she stepped in front of Heath. ‘No, you’re not. You’re standing here with us about to blame Heath when you should be arresting them for doing damage.’
Brian breathed out a laugh through his nose. ‘Damage? Look at the man’s car.’
Heath gently placed his hands on Rhett’s shoulders and moved her out of his way. ‘Let me handle this.’
Even though I love you sticking up for me.
He walked over to the police car to talk away from his family.
‘Heath, you know I’ve got to take you in for this, right?’
‘I know.’
‘That man will press charges. I can tell you that for nothing.’
‘I know.’
Brian closed in on him, lowering his voice. ‘If you know all this, then why didn’t you just wait for me to arrive? Tyler must have told you I took his call.’
‘He did.’
‘Well?’
Heath glanced at the car owner, squawking away in the background. ‘He wound me up.’
‘Clearly. But now you’re the one in trouble.’
‘Don’t forget he assaulted me.’
‘Yes, he’s in trouble too, but you didn’t have to make matters worse.’
Heath shrugged. The slightest buzz of happiness kept him in a zone that cared little about the tourist’s car, his mother’s disappointment, and the cost of a new fence. It wouldn’t last, but for now, it was all he had. That and Rhett trying to protect him, which was cute. His gaze fell her way as Brian rambled on about trespassers, courts, and landowners’ rights.
Rhett revealed a reassuring smile, and Heath felt so many worries disappear. He tossed Tyler the tractor keys, then climbed in Brian’s police car, giving the trespasser a sarcastic wave before quietly singing a song about having a brand-new combine harvester.
Maybe he had lost the plot, and perhaps he’d lost the battle with the tourist, but one thing was for sure, he hadn’t quite lost the girl.