Chapter 36
CHAPTER
I’m in my pyjamas when the phone rings. ‘Hello.’
‘Lisse.’
Eight days have passed since I’ve seen or spoken to Sebastien. Anger. Hurt. His and mine. I lean back against the pillows and hug my knees.
‘Nate told me you got to Hobart safely.’
A short delay. ‘When Matilda can’t get onto you, she calls me. I want your permission to answer the phone.’
‘I’ve told her you’re not on Morrison any more and that you’re busy.’
‘I like to speak with her.’
‘She said you talk as much as she does.’
‘Matilda asks questions about Tolkien and The Lord of the Rings. I ask about Australian writers. I didn’t know there were gumnut babies.’
I press my forehead against my knee. ‘Why did you call?’
‘To get your permission.’
‘You have it. Was there anything else?’
‘You didn’t call.’
‘Nate probably tells you more about me than I would.’
‘I didn’t want to leave.’
‘You had to.’
A thump and muffled curse. His book falling onto the floor? Does that mean he’s in bed too?
‘Matilda’s pony lost a shoe.’
‘I booked the farrier.’ I push my feet under the covers. ‘He can’t come until Monday, so Tilly is disappointed she’ll miss pony club.’
‘Amy has a virus, so Matilda will ride her pony.’
‘When did she tell you that?’
‘Early this morning.’
‘You can’t really want to know these things.’ I’m holding tightly to the phone; I sense he’s doing that too.
‘We need time, Lisse. Time together.’
Eyes scratchy, I search for a response. ‘You will have finished Nest by now. What are you reading?’
‘The Last Migration. A novel by Charlotte McConaghy.’
‘Migrating birds? What species?’
‘Arctic terns.’
‘They migrate all the way from the Arctic to Antarctica and back. Are you enjoying the book?’
‘What is your favourite bird?’
I laugh. ‘I can’t answer that.’
‘My grandfather’s favourite was Norway’s national bird. In English, it would be called a white-throated dipper.’
‘Cinclus cinclus, an aquatic passerine. The species is found all over the world.’
‘Define passerine.’
‘A bird that perches.’
‘The birds are called fossekall in Norway.’
‘Can that be translated into English?’
‘Fossekall means “call of the waterfall”. When my brothers and I stayed at my grandfather’s cabin, he photographed fossekall at the river.’
‘Have you always been close to your brothers?’
‘Yes, but when we were young, we were rivals.’
‘Nate said something about a zip line. Fin told him that, out of you, Kit and him, you took the most risks.’
Sebastien is silent for such a long time, I don’t think he’ll respond. Then, ‘The zip lines have been taken down.’
‘There were more than one?’
‘Two.’
‘You don’t want to talk about this, do you?’
A grumble. ‘What did Nate say?’
‘He said it wasn’t his story to tell. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.’
‘Do you want to know?’
I want to know everything. ‘Yes.’
‘In the summer holidays, our parents would leave us with our grandfather, my father’s father.
There was a zip line, a hundred-metre run, through the forest below his cabin.
For many years, my brothers and I challenged each other to do the fastest time.
Kit was taller and heavier, so no matter what Fin or I did, he always finished first. One year—I was fourteen, so Kit would have been seventeen and Fin twelve—I told Kit that, after two days of trying to beat him, I was done.
My grandfather was a quiet man, a private man.
When he said I should join him on the deck that overlooked the forest, I did. ’
‘Did you read books on the deck?’
‘Yes.’ He speaks softly, as if to himself. ‘For three days, I read my grandfather’s books and my own.’
‘The books would have been stamped with your grandfather’s initials.’
‘Farfar bequeathed the stamp and the ring. Can we talk about the ring?’
A thousand times yes. And no. ‘I want you to tell me about the zip line.’
‘On our sixth day at the cabin, Kit took the book I was reading and refused to return it. He said if I didn’t like the rules of the zip-line competition, he’d accept a handicap.
We were both angry, but when I told him I had a better idea, to build a second zip line, he offered to help.
The first zip line led to the waterfall.
The second went from the waterfall to the river in the valley. It took many days to build.’
‘With two zip lines, you and Kit could go separately.’
‘He thought one of us would go in the upper section; the other would go in the lower. But for five metres, over a gully, the zip lines ran parallel. I told Kit I’d jump between the two to get a longer run.’
‘What was the distance?’
‘Over a metre. Kit said it was too dangerous. The grips were narrow. The gully was deep. It was crazy.’
‘How fast were you going?’
‘Too fast.’
‘But you did it anyway.’
‘After the first time, Kit ran to the cabin. When he couldn’t find our grandfather, he called our father, who agreed with Kit that I should stop. I was even angrier with Kit than I’d been. I refused to listen.’
‘You went again?’
‘I was ready for my third run when Kit tackled me. I hit him, he hit me back.’ Sebastien speaks quietly, regretfully. ‘It’s the first and last time we’ve hurt each other.’
If I were with Sebastien, I’d touch his cheek, push back his hair. ‘What happened next?’
‘Kit and my father took down both zip lines.’
‘Were you punished?’
‘What I’d done was out of character.’ A long, drawn-out breath. ‘My parents were afraid for me. They were concerned. Kit was frightened too.’
‘They didn’t want you to do something like that again. But you did, didn’t you, when you lied about your age and flew in gliders.’
‘The zip line had taught me what I was capable of.’ A short hesitation. ‘I’m different now.’
Are you? Are you really? I don’t say the words out loud but—
‘Lisse. What are you thinking? Tell me.’
‘Climbing, flying. I’d hate Matilda to do some of the things you’ve done.’
‘I shouldn’t have told you.’
‘It’s good that you did.’
‘Will you sleep with me tonight?’
He’s sixteen hundred kilometres away but my heart rate increases. ‘How would I do that?’
‘You lie in your bed. I lie in mine.’
I shouldn’t love him, but I do. I want him close, even though he isn’t. Just for a little while, I can pretend I won’t lose him.
After flicking off the lights, I pick up the phone again. ‘Thank you for telling me about the zip line.’
‘Are you lying on your back or your side?’
‘Why do you want to know that?’
‘Tell me.’
‘I’m on my side.’
‘I’ll lie on my back. Are you lying on your left or right side?’
‘My left. Why?’
‘You’re lying on the right side of my body.’
‘Yes.’ I smile. ‘What are you wearing?’
‘Pants. T-shirt.’
‘I’m wearing pyjamas.’
‘I didn’t want to ask.’ His voice is gruff. ‘Put your head on my chest and your arm around me. Is your hair out? I like it on my body.’
‘Have you done this before?’
‘I only sleep with you.’
I take a deep breath as I snuggle closer to imaginary him. ‘Have you talked to Nate tonight?’
‘No.’
‘I thought he might have told you about my mother.’
‘I’m stroking your shoulders.’
‘Thank you.’
‘What did your mother say?’
‘The usual. But also, that I was like her because I didn’t read. I didn’t like it.’
‘You do read.’
‘Mostly through Tilly.’
‘She likes stories.’
Footsteps in the corridor outside. Loud and then soft. ‘You like stories too.’
‘You read about birds and animals. There are stories in that.’
He’s so definite about what he says. It warms me.
‘Lisse? Is the light on? Can I see your face?’
Suddenly warm, I kick off the covers. ‘It’s dark.’
‘I like to see you.’
‘Angelina is sorry you’ll miss the dance.’ I loop my leg over his legs. ‘Will you get up again tonight?’
‘I have a call at eleven.’
I imagine his heartbeats. ‘You work too hard.’
‘You’re tired, Lisse. I hear it.’
‘No.’ I talk through a yawn.
‘After Christmas, I’ll be back. We’ll talk.’