Chapter Ten – Andie
Chapter Ten
ANDIE
A nother primal screech rings through the air as I sit at the end of the jetty outside the bucks’ house. Of course, when we arrived, no one moved to pull any noodle packets from the cupboard. Instead, Taylor, Lizzie and Grace wasted no time in stripping down to their underwear and plunging into the water. With everyone fairly drunk, I figured it was wise to keep an eye on things from shore.
My sandals are off, the tips of my yellow-painted toes grazing the water. It’s hard to tell which animal belongs to which deeply unsettling noise. It could be another bat? It’s like a game of memory I play with my kindy class, except at school it’s all bright letters and colourful pictures of cute cartoon animals.
I took the game home for Dad a few years after his dementia diagnosis, and he ended up knocking it off the table in a temper. I can still picture Mum on all fours, scooping up the scattered pieces, whispering at me to fetch the TV remote and directing Toby to put the kettle on.
I hate that I still haven’t heard anything from Toby.
I reach for the phone resting in my lap and type out another text:
Hey! Are you there? Give me an update on Dad when you can.
I glance back out at the river. They’ve been in the water with the boys for around an hour now, laughing as they take turns to balance on each other’s shoulders.
Backlit by an almost full moon, they cut tall, shadowy figures like creatures from the deep. The full moon is tomorrow; a rare supermoon, in fact. I only know that because day three’s evening activity is a moon circle.
I’m trying to work out who is on whose shoulders when I see Jack stroking towards the dock, arms slicing the water confidently like the blades in a Nutribullet. Hopefully he enjoyed the rest of his walk with Taylor and I’ve snuffed out this Ben complication.
A few strokes later, Jack’s reached me, coming to a stop by my feet. For a moment I think he’s going to grab hold of my legs, but he anchors himself to the edge of the jetty instead.
‘Everything okay?’ he asks, resting his dripping chin on the dock next to my thighs.
‘Yeah, thanks. Just having a moment.’
Jack grins up at me. ‘Perfect night for it. Isn’t she glorious?’ he asks, tilting his head towards the moon.
‘Do you often go for a midnight swim?’ I ask.
‘When in doubt, get in the water. That’s my motto. Well, one of them.’
‘You should get that printed on a tea towel and stocked at Charlie Farleys.’
‘Who says I haven’t done that already?’ He dunks his head under. When he emerges, his hair is drenched and disheveled, and droplets cling to his square jaw. ‘Anyway, I thought I’d warn you that the gang are hungry and making their way in now. And they’re pretty rowdy.’
A few minutes later the group swarms the dock, sending a small tidal wave my way. I spring to my feet to avoid getting wet.
‘Noodles then stag-dares,’ Richie cries, pulling himself up onto the jetty. ‘You’ve gotten off far too easily so far, Benny-boy. It’s time for the gimp suit!’
I look at the girls. Surely we don’t have to stick around for this? But they’re still blissfully lounging in the water, their arms gliding through the surface like pond frogs.
‘Are you sure you’re okay, Andie?’ Jack asks. ‘You haven’t loosened your grip on that thing since you arrived.’
I look down to see my phone still in my hands and bite my lip. ‘I’m waiting to hear from my little brother. My dad has dementia, and I want to check everything is okay.’
‘Do you want to use my wi-fi? I’m only a few doors up.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course. I can take you now.’
‘That would be amazing. Thank you.’
I manage to catch Lizzie’s eye, wave my phone at her, and then turn to follow Jack up the jetty. Hopefully she gets the message.
We walk for five or so minutes before Jack turns down a long gravel driveway dotted with a row of green-painted cabins, like the miniature buildings on a Monopoly board.
‘I’m right at the end,’ he says as we start up the drive. ‘The one with the view,’ he adds with a wink.
‘What is this place?’ I ask, as we pass under a constellation of fairy lights.
‘It’s a bit of a locals-only spot, also known as the employee accommodation of Clam Cove Resort. I clean rooms here.’
Oh. I’m surprised. I thought I detected an edge of resentment when he mentioned the resort earlier.
‘So you’re basically Kate Bosworth in Blue Crush ,’ I say.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, but sure.’
Jack waves as we walk by two women sitting at a communal picnic table, chatting and drinking beers like it’s not nearing 1 a.m.
‘Okay, so this is actually Kellerman’s resort,’ I say. ‘Do you need me to carry any watermelons?’
Jack glances at me, his tanned forehead furrowed. I assume he hasn’t understood another of my movie references but as he opens his mouth, I realise he’s been compiling a comeback. Cute .
‘Sorry to disappoint, but you won’t find any raunchy dancing here. Unless you count me shimmying my overgrown frame into the cabin’s postage-stamp-sized shower.’
‘Er, raunchy dancing?’ I cover my fluster at the R-rated image of Jack in the shower with a mock-scoff. ‘It’s dirty dancing. Only one of my favourite movies of all time.’
‘So, what is it with you and these movies?’ Jack asks as we come to a stop in front of a tiny cabin teetering so close to the edge of the riverbank it looks like it could wash right in. The timber-clad exterior is frosted with a smattering of creamy white barnacles.
I shrug. ‘Mum was a professor of film studies, so I guess you could say I was raised on them.’
Her guilty pleasure was watching Disney movies and rom-coms after hours, secretly enjoying them more than the serious films like A Clockwork Orange that she dissected with her students.
I run my fingers along one of the barnacles, wondering if Jack has picked up on my use of the past tense. But ‘was’ could mean retired. Her beloved movies offer me a portal into another life, one where she’s still alive. But there’s no way I’m going to share all of that with him.
He studies me for a beat. ‘Cool job,’ he says before pushing open the front door to the cabin. It lets out a long, deep groan like someone has blown forcefully into a conch shell. We step into a compact space that’s as cosy as it appears from the outside.
‘Let me give you the grand tour,’ Jack says, pointing haphazardly. ‘Bed, desk, couch, bookshelf, frypan for my fish and hob for my frypan. But the real kicker is out here.’
I follow him through sliding doors onto a deck. It’s double the size of inside and juts out over the river like a rocky outcrop.
‘Wow, Jack.’
A light breeze tickles my face as I breathe in the salty air. My eyes fixate on the bright moon and explosion of tiny stars. Too many to count.
‘Rumour has it that Patrick Swayze is lifting Jennifer Grey right over there.’ Jack interrupts my breathing exercise, pointing across the river to a sheltered cove.
I elbow his side, laughing. ‘Hey, you’re trolling me!’
Jack sticks out his bottom lip. ‘Who, me? I’m simply getting a crash course on the language of Andie.’
‘Is that its official name? Not very catchy.’
‘Nope, the official name is Andinese. UN approval should come through any day now.’
‘Good luck with that. You know, unfortunately, these days we’d be more likely to see the ghost of Patrick Swayze,’ I say sadly.
‘Isn’t that a different movie starring Demi Moore and a potter’s wheel?’
‘Clever,’ I say, cheeks stretched.
‘I don’t mind a bit of arts and crafts myself. Shellcraft, not so much pottery, is more my –’
He’s cut short by a faint, low scream that echoes from downstream.
‘That did not sound good. I better head back and see what’s going on,’ Jack says, making a move to the door. ‘Hopefully they’ve just progressed to the chest-wax stag-dare. You all okay here? The wi-fi should auto-connect. We’re borrowing from Clam Cove Resort.’ He winks.
‘I think so,’ I say. ‘But maybe I should come with you? Check on the girls.’
Jack’s eyes lock on mine, his sea-green gaze steady. ‘I’ve got this, Andie. You stay and make your call.’
My call. Shit, yes. Toby. Dad. How had I almost forgotten?
‘Just shut the door on the way out,’ Jack instructs. ‘Use your phone’s torch on the dodgy driveway so you don’t trip. Once you’re at the end you’ll see a sign that says K EITH’S PLACE.’
‘Keith’s place? Not Coastal Haven, Bayfront Bliss or Seaside Serenity?’
He chuckles as he slips out the front door. ‘See you soon, Andie.’
My attention finally goes to my phone screen, and I connect to the wi-fi.
Toby picks up on the first ring. ‘Andie! Why are you calling? And at this hour?’
‘I wanted to check on Dad . . .’
Toby sighs loudly down the phone. ‘We went through this already. I told you that you can assume things are fine unless you hear from me.’
‘There was an issue with reception so –’
‘Relax, Andie!’ Toby interrupts sharply. ‘You need a holiday.’
‘How’s the cut on his head?’
‘It’s okay. You know this already.’
I swallow. ‘And can I ask how the pureed food went?’
‘It went fine.’
‘Okay. Good.’
There’s a long pause on the other end. I bet he feels guilty for snapping at me.
‘How’s the weather there?’ he asks eventually.
‘It’s perfect. Do you want to see?’
I walk out onto the deck, put the phone on speaker and switch the camera on to show him the river and the magnificent night sky.
‘Andie, it’s pitch-black.’
‘Oh yeah. Sorry.’
‘Where are you now? Is that the place you booked?’
‘I’m at – ah – my friend’s house.’
‘And this friend owns a tackle box?’
Huh? Ohhh . I’ve moved back inside, and the camera is still on.
I flick the camera back to face me and peer over the screen to see a bright orange tackle box resting on the timber desk in front of me. The lid is open and the fold-out tray with floaters and sinkers is in full view, like an offering of colourful hard-boiled candies. But my attention is drawn to the assortment of items beside it – a pile of oyster shells, a few sheets of tracing paper and a glass Mason jar filled with paintbrushes.
‘Mm, yeah, I guess so,’ I say, distracted now.
I guess Jack was telling the truth about his penchant for arts and crafts. How unexpected.
‘What’s got you grinning like a Cheshire cat, Ands?’
Shit. I forgot the camera was still on. ‘Nothing,’ I say.
‘Okayyy . . .’ Toby doesn’t sound convinced. ‘Well, whatever it is, I approve. I haven’t seen you smile like that since . . .’ He pauses. ‘Since, forever.’
I know he stopped himself from saying ‘since before Mum’s funeral’.
‘Can you at least tell me if they had the doctor in to check on his head today?’ Now that he’s warmed up a bit, it’s worth trying again.
‘Yes, and as I said before, it’s fine.’
My body relaxes like a balloon deflating from a single pinprick.
‘Okay, good. Well, I’ll check in again tomorrow.’ I hang up so I don’t have to listen to his protests. It’s much better for me to know than to fill in the imaginary blanks.