Changeling's Island - eARC (20 page)

Tim had said something about scraping down a boat. Hailey had no interest and no knowledge about what one did with boats. “Where are they?”

“I wouldn’t know. They’ve been using Port Davies and West End lately. Tim didn’t say. Now I got to get ready to go to town. Goodbye.”

So she was still stuck with the kids when Justin showed up. She was tempted to leave them and just go. But then Daddy might get really angry. “The babysitter is working on a boat, scraping it or something. So I can’t go,” she said sullenly.

“Oh. Is that on at the ramp at Port Davies?” Justin’s parents’ house looked down on the bay. “I thought it was Mike. Mind you, it looked like a woman was painting it. Oh well, pity. My folks are away and we’ve got the place to ourselves. We’re going to have a little…party.”

“That’s her. Or rather them. Look, let me take Samantha and Troy to them, they can’t, like, not look after kids. And your place is just there. Even if Molly isn’t there, Troy and Sam can play in the garden or something if they have to.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, doubtful.

She kissed him. Just a bit of tongue to get him loosened up. And three minutes later they were on their way to Emita, and down to the ramp at Port Davies. And sure enough, there were some people working on a boat down at the water. The girl in the hoodie waved. It wasn’t an “oh, I am glad to see you” wave, just a kind of greeting. And suddenly Hailey had doubts. She didn’t really know how Molly would take to her, right now. “Just go down and see if Tim and Molly can look after you. We’ll wait,” she said to the kids.

The two ran off down the steep ramp, and stopped to have a look at someone’s kayak, and then went on down to the boat. Then Troy waved at them, and started jumping from rock to rock. “Cool!” said Hailey. “Let’s go party.”

They stopped to smoke a spliff and then several hours and quite a few coolers later…

It was her mobile. Her father. “Where the hell are you?”

“Um, Emita.”

“What have you done with the kids? I just got a message on the home phone from that old bird-watching duffer on Wireless Road saying he saw them out at sea in a kayak, and without lifejackets on.”

“That Molly! How could she!” said Hailey, angrily. “She was supposed to be looking after them. I’ll never forgive her!”

“The Symons kid? She’s off-island, Hailey. She was on the same plane as my mate Morton, yesterday.”

“But she was down at the boat ramp. With Tim. I’ll go down now, Daddy!”

“You’d better! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

There was no sign of anyone at the boat ramp. No sign of the boat they’d been working on, no sign of the kayak, and no sign of Samantha or Troy.

CHAPTER 18

“Good to be off the water,” said Jon looking at the sky as they turned into the long driveway down to the Symons’ place. Jon had reached an agreement to leave the boat and the towing ute there, saving himself fuel and wear-and-tear.

“Yes. She’s going to be a bad one,” agreed Tim, worriedly…not because he was worried about the sea. He had huge faith in Jon, and the RIB. “I hope the plane will be all right. Molly’s coming in from Melbourne. She hates flying anyway.”

“They’ll be fine, Tim. They’ll divert if there’s a problem. And they’re good pilots. They fly the route all the time.”

There was no one home, Tim knew, as Nan had been going in to town with Molly’s parents. So they parked the boat and ute, gave the boat a quick wash-down, and loaded the two fish crates of abalone into the polystyrene boxes in the back of the SUV for Jon to take down to the airport, and drove out.

They were just turning into the gate to Nan’s farm when they nearly hit the cop’s Land Cruiser coming the other way.

He skidded to a halt and leapt out. “Tim Ryan? We’re looking for Troy and Samantha Burke. Do you know where they are?”

“I haven’t seen them since school broke up for the holidays,” said Tim, surprised.

“We were told that they’d been left with you and Molly Symons at the boat ramp at Port Davies this morning…”

Tim shook his head. “No…”

“We’ve been at sea, launched from West End just after seven this morning,” said Jon McKay. “Haven’t been within ten kilometers of Port Davies.”

“And Molly is away. Off-island. She’s only flying back today,” added Tim.

“Hell. I’d better get the SES out. The kids have been missing since eleven. They were last seen by a couple of fishermen at the ramp. They told them their sister was watching them. And then later the kids were spotted fooling around in a kayak.”

“Better get onto it, right now,” said Jon. “The weather’s turning nasty.”

“Stupid kid,” said the policeman, reaching for his radio as he got back in his vehicle. “I left a note on the door asking you to contact me urgently, Tim Ryan. You’d better take it down before your grandmother sees it.”

“They’re only
little
,” said Tim. “Not
stupid
.”

“No, I mean the sister. She was supposed to be looking after them. Now, excuse me.” He shut the door and began edging his police vehicle past them while talking on the radio.

“I think I’d best leave you here, Tim,” said Jon McKay. “I’m on the SES call-list. It’s probably nothing, and the kids will show up, but I’d like to get these abs to my pilot before they call me.”

“I could come and give you a hand,” offered Tim.

“It’s probably a false alarm. They usually are, but better safe than sorry. I think you’d better go and take that note down.”

“Too right!” said Tim, as the diver got back into his SUV. “See you, Jon.”

Jon nodded and waved. “Probably more boat repair work tomorrow.”

It was only while walking down the track that it occurred to Tim that Nan couldn’t have read the note anyway. But there were chores to do on the farm, and he thought no more about it as he went through the comfortable routine of splitting firewood. He found it a very satisfying job now, actually, easily swinging the heavy block-splitter, seeing the chips fly.

Presently the phone rang. He went in to answer it. It was Molly on her mobile, and just hearing her voice made him smile. She must be safe and back. “Hi, Tim!” she said, sounding just as pleased to hear his voice. “Just calling to let you know your grandmother will be late home. Mum and Dad are off with an SES search, and your nan is going to get a lift back with the woman who works in Roberts. Everyone is out looking for Troy and Samantha. They were seen paddling around in a kayak by that bird-watching guy off Emita.”

“Oh, wow! I hope they’re okay! It was getting bumpy already when Jon and I came in. The swell is picking up. There’s a real storm brewing.”

“Yeah. I’ve got to go. I’ve got a lift home, too. I’ve got to go and shut the outside windows on the guest cottage. Mum thought it would be a great day for airing the place. Okay, bye, see you soon!”

Tim put the phone down and stood there for a moment. Then he walked to the door, stopping to take down an old oilskin from the nails just inside it, and headed for the beach at a brisk jog.

The sea was no longer the blue that it had been when they’d come in. Instead it was whitecapped and gray, and the waves were rushing up the sand in a tumult of foam.

He felt foolish standing there, calling “Maeve! Maeve!” just for the wind to whip the sound away.

But she heard him all the same. Either she had been very close or had gotten there magically, but the seal-woman suddenly surfaced amid the foam. She didn’t look a bit like Lorde this time. “And now, Fae-changeling’s descendant? Why do you call me? You choose a poor day for your kind to make the long swim to Ireland’s shores.”

“I’m looking for two kids in a kayak…”

“A blond girl-child and a boy in a fragile cockle-shell boat, bickering like sea-gulls.”

“So…you’ve seen them! Where are they?” asked Tim.

“Why would I care to tell you?” asked the seal-woman.

“Because they’re kids. They could drown out there!”

“They are not my children or my concern. Why should I care for humans? Why should you care for humans?” she said, disdainfully. “They are not your blood, nor is this your birthright-place.”

* * *

The master stamped his foot, raised his fist. Not as if to hit, but as if to throw the ghost of a long, dark spear. Áed could see it, and probably the old fae could too. And the strength of the old ones, of the spirits of the land flowed through the boy…but he was a man then. Not one of the Aos Sí, in the land of endless childhood, but a man who will work and die…but truly have lived. “Hear me. So I have a drop of that fairy blood in me. So what? I’ve lots of other blood, and it doesn’t make any difference to me, seal-woman. I belong
here
. This is
my
place and these are
my
people. Not off in some weird magical place. Just here. I want those children, I want them safe and alive. You want this key. Well, I’ll make you a bargain. You can have it, if you can get them back to shore safe and alive. Otherwise you can forget it. Forever.”

On the sacred mountain, lightnings danced. Not lightnings of the world of the flesh, but of the place that Áed too was a part of. Dancing in triumph welcoming the prodigal home.

Maeve knew that he was beyond her reach now, on land or sea. She shook her head. “I cannot do that. The boy child is already dead in the water. The girl is on the reef.” She pointed to the breaking surf on the rocks a kilometer from the shore. “The tide and sea come for her. And she is cold and small, and well up on the rocks. I cannot reach her. She will not come to me, and I cannot go to her.”

* * *

Tim looked at the seal-woman in horror. “Marriot Reef! What…where?”

“The islet with the sand-spit. On the rocks at the far end. You will need a good boat and good seamen. It is wild out there.”

Tim took a deep breath. “I’ll get the SES guys. If we get her off alive, it’s a deal. Keep her there.” He was running back to the house before he’d finished talking. These days it didn’t take him that long. He was a little out of breath, but not blown by the time he got there. He still had the crumpled note from the copper in his pocket, which had a mobile number on it. He called it.

“Hello, it’s Tim Ryan here, I…”

“Yes, I’m sorry, young man,” said the copper. “Wrong tree I was barking up. We’ve got the search and rescue in full swing down here at Port Davies.”

“I know. Look, I think I know where the little girl is.”

“Where? Does she have a favorite spot? Tell me.”

“She’s on one of the islets on Marriot Reef. I think the boy has drowned.”

There was a pause. Then the copper said, “Son, Marriot Reef is right across Marshall Bay, maybe ten kilometers away. Two little kids couldn’t paddle that far. I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it isn’t her.”

“I can’t see her. I…I just know she’s there. The seal told me.” As soon as he’d said it, Tim knew he’d said exactly the wrong thing. But it was too late.

“Look, I have a search to organize. I’ve got no time for this now. And don’t go spreading rumors about drownings.” He cut the call.

Tim stood there, steaming, for at least half a minute. Then he bit his lip and got a dial tone and called Jon McKay’s mobile instead.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang out to the automatic message service.

He put it down and tried again. This time he left a message.

After the beep, Tim said, “Jon. This is Tim Ryan. The girl is on Marriot Reef. On the middle island with a sand-spit. You’ve got to get there quickly!”

It cut off, and he stood there. Chewed his lip, nervously, thinking. He realized Jon McKay would be at sea in one of the search boats. Then he tried again. “Jon…um, I’m going to take your boat. Sammy Burke can’t wait. I…I hope that’s all right.”

Then he took down his red lifejacket from its hook, put on his boots, and headed out, at a brisk trot, taking the shortest route. It was only when he was near to the shoreline that it suddenly occurred to him that he could have taken the farm ute. It had no rego, and he was underage, but what would a couple of extra crimes be?

It had to be done.

It came down to him to do it.

And it felt, right now, as if he could run forever, faster than any ute, cross-country anyway. It felt right to run, feet thudding against the track through the ti-trees and tussocks. Then across the wet sand of the small bay, and up to Molly’s place. As he ran across the sand he looked out to where Marriot Reef lay. He could see the white of the breaking surf against the black of the incoming storm.

It had to be done.

* * *

Mary Ryan had learned patience from the finest of teachers, the land and the sea. She hadn’t always had it, but, well, there were worse things than a chair next to the fire and a mug of tea in the shop while you waited for a lift home. And she was feeling distinctly mellow right now. Not from alcohol…she kept away from it, seen too much go wrong because of it. Saying that had not made her popular, back in the days when a black man had to go around to the side door of the pub to get his grog, or brew it themselves, but she’d had a bad habit of saying what she believed. No, she’d been drinking stronger wine than the pub sold. Young Molly’s parents had been emptying the butter-boat over her Tim. And then, in town, the headmistress, of all people, had come to introduce herself, and told her how good the boy was doing, and that he was a champion for helping the littler kids. It seemed it was true, too, because the woman who was finishing up before giving her a lift home had said she was “only too pleased to do something for Tim’s grandmother. Such a nice boy. He’s so good to my Mark.”

Mary didn’t like being dependent, but it was hard to not accept under those circumstances, and she had to get home, after all. The town was abuzz with the news of the search going on. Half a dozen people had come into the shop, talking about it.

But, sitting there, suddenly, she got the feeling that she was being called. And there—looking out from the wood-heater, or at least playing tricks with the fire-shadows as they could, was the long-nosed, dark-eyed wee-folk manikin that followed her Tim around, beckoning frantically.

It was an illusion, she knew, but she understood what he was doing only too well.

She stood up, and carefully made her way over to the counter. “I have to go home, now. Now! My grandson needs me.” She couldn’t see the people behind the counter, of course, just their blurred shapes. But one of them said, “There, Tania. You better take her. I’ll finish up for you.” And they’d left together, Tania’s guiding hand on Mary’s elbow, which she really needed now.

* * *

Bunce had heard his second favorite person coming, of course. Molly had looked out of the window to see what her fur-face was barking at. You could tell it was a “happy-to-see-you” bark, but she hadn’t heard the sound of a car. So she looked out, and there was Tim, loping up the beach-track like a wolf, carrying his life jacket. So she went out.

“Hi, Tim! What’s up?” she asked.

He could have lied, it later occurred to her. Instead, he just said, “I’m borrowing Jon’s boat. I know where little Sammy Burke is, and I need to go and fetch her.”

Molly looked at the sea, at darkness of the storm coming. “Call the SES!”

“I tried. I told them. That stupid copper won’t believe me,” he said, opening the passenger door of Jon’s ute. “Habit…I forget I’m going to have to drive.” He slammed the door. “Fair do, I guess. I wouldn’t believe me either. I shouldn’t have said anything about the seal-woman. Now I’ve got to go and do it.”

“You’re going to be in a lot of trouble, Tim.”

“Yeah. I know. But I have to do it.” There was a kind of grim determination in his voice that there was no point in saying no to. If Tim Ryan had to swim, he’d do so. She couldn’t exactly stop him from taking the diver’s boat.

“Look…” she said. “I’ll come with you. You can’t get the boat off on your own.”

He pulled a face. “I don’t want you in this mess too, Molly.” He climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’ve got to do this. I can’t know where she is, and that she needs help, and just do nothing.”

“Budge up. I’ve at least got a P-plate license.”

He hesitated for a moment, and then weakened, moved over. “As far as the boat ramp. Your dad’ll kill me if I take you out to sea in this.”

“You don’t take me anywhere, Tim Ryan,” she said, getting in and turning the key. “I’ll go if I choose to. And I would trust you. Like, anywhere.”

They drove in silence, other than one gear-grind, for some distance. Then Molly said warily, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you. About Hailey. Please don’t be mad.”

“Oh, I’m over her. Like, it was never anything…well, she’s pretty, but…”

“She never was into you, Tim. Her father just told her to be nice to you, because you’ll inherit the farm. And he wants to break it up and sell it as holiday places.”