The Windy Season (23 page)

That's not true.

It is, she said. Does Michael ever talk about his father, or why he is here?

All the time.

How does his father make him feel? Why is Michael hiding on the other side of the world, on a fucking lobster boat? I mean, you said he was studying at Oxford?

Paul laughed her questions off. I don't know, he said.

Kasia turned onto her back and exhaled, as if the weight of the sun had pushed the air from her lungs.

Paul watched her.

Why here? he said. Why did you come to Stark?

I saw it in a travel shop.

You saw Stark in a travel agency? He laughed.

No, she said. There was a shitty little travel shop next to the restaurant where I worked when I was in London. I walked in there on my break, crying like a loser. The man even made me tea because I was crying so much.

Why were you crying?

A boy. It was dumb. Just some boy who turned out to be an arsehole. And I was telling this old man all about it. He was as old as my grandfather, in his stupid little shop. I mean, who even goes into a travel agency anymore? And I told him about this arsehole, the full story. He sat down with me and we started going through all the places I could go, what I might find there. I do not even know if there was a computer in his shop. She laughed. But he was helping me to plan my escape from London.

But why here?

There was a poster of people swimming with a huge shark. It was as big as my apartment. Bigger even. A big shark with white spots.

A whale shark.

Yes. I did not know there could be such a thing. But it was so peaceful. Even in the picture I could see that it meant no harm, and I decided I wanted to do that. I did not have the money, but I needed to come here. I needed to swim with that big shark. We worked out where it was, me and the old man, we worked out that it was in the west of Australia, all the way up where the continent bulges into the sea. Right at the tip of the bulge.

Ningaloo Reef, he said.

The plan was to work my way up the coast, try to earn some money until I got to Exmouth and the reef and the shark.

And you got stuck here.

I got stuck. I ran out of money. This place, where I thought everything would be easier. A simple time. That is how I imagined it would be. And then I find this. Stark. At the end of the rainbow. And it is as fucked as anywhere I have ever been.

Paul snorted.

It really is. That tavern, it is like a black hole. Everything tumbles towards it, all these angry men and their problems. The pressure is so intense. That woke me up. I realised that everywhere is just the same. You do not find peace, you know, like it is some kind of destination. It is not something that you can search for and visit. It is not in London. And it is not at the edge of the earth. My grandmother said it: you carry your own light with you. She was smart, my grandmother. Again, she was right.

So much for the whale shark then, he said.

No, she said. I just need more money and I will be out of here.

Paul pulled a face at this, felt like a child for doing so. Kasia stood up and raced barefoot across the hot sand, swearing loudly. A mother pulled her toddler towards her legs and glared at Paul as he got up to follow.

Come on, fisherman, Kasia yelled.

Before he had really had time to think about it they were out beyond the bank. He dived down towards the seabed. Sunlight crisscrossed the sand. He looked up and saw Kasia's legs dangling, the sun blazing above her, could tell by the way her arms circled close and quick by her side that she was unsure what he was doing, awaiting the moment he might grab her leg to spook her. Paul let himself drift, totally numb to any thought of a stalking white shark, staring off into the decline of the sand into the sea and uncaring about what might be gliding at the limit of his vision.

Off-the-boat

AT THE TAVERN THAT NIGHT MICHAEL
was drunk. Even at his most intoxicated he always maintained a remarkable level of outward composure. His skin didn't blot or become flushed like Elmo or Jungle, or like Paul, too. Michael didn't sweat, and his eyes never became bloodshot. It was his choice of discussion topics that gave him away, the lines of argument becoming more and more obtuse and hard to follow.

It was Richard's birthday. The cook, Jolix, had prepared him crayfish as a special gesture, against the man's wishes. Richard was predictably disgusted by the fuss made over him. Paul had been surprised to discover the skipper was only fifty. He looked at least two decades older. He sat at the bar, hunched over his food, looking every bit the old dog guarding its bowl. Despite himself he had drawn the amused attention of the intoxicated
German, and therefore every other deckhand at the bar. Michael leant over Richard's shoulder and peered at the birthday meal.

I feel uncomfortable eating a crayfish or a crab or anything like that, Michael told his audience gravely. In front of people, I mean. Some people do not seem to mind putting their face into a crab. Sucking the meat out of its legs. They will even do it in public. Does that not strike you as an intimate thing to do to an animal?

Shivani giggled. The men at the bar were stumped by the question.

Michael turned to the unmoving Richard. Richard stared at the crayfish, its two halves lying upturned on the plate, the white flesh shining under the counter lights. Richard never took much notice of Michael's talk, and seemed too tired now to utter a word anyway. But for a moment he let the lobster sit there, cutlery bound in a serviette next to it.

Ignore them, Jules said. Happy birthday, you grumpy old shit.

Happy birthday, alright, Richard muttered. Fucking fishing net took out three of my pots this afternoon. Cut right through the lines. Now I've got a thousand dollars of pots sitting on the bank in one hundred metres of water. Fuck's sake.

A fishing net? Elmo asked. How big? Must have been a smoker to cut lines like that.

Should have seen the fucker, Jungle said. Size of a football oval. Even bigger.

Three times that, Richard said. Six hundred metres long, I reckon. Easy.

Get fucked, Noddy said.

Super trawler, Richard said. Sure it was. Nothing else drags something that big. They would have cut their net loose in the cyclone.

I thought it was a spill at first, Jungle said. This giant shadow. Black as night. But there were birds going fucking mad above it all. More birds than I ever seen in one place in my whole life. Then we went closer.

What did you see? Paul asked.

This net, Jungle began, it moved liked it was alive. Turning big and slow, shimmering with fish of all sorts. Think I saw a hundred sharks around it. Maybe more. Reefies and tigers and god knows what else. And all this life and death and pot floats and coral like the whole ocean was being sucked into this thing. Honestly sent chills right through me fucking soul.

Jesus Christ, Elmo said.

It gave me the creeps, Richard grumbled. It was as bad as that bloody mutant fish.

Circus, Michael said. So, you've got the shark with its eye, this portal into the underworld. Now there is a black hole coming to visit us. You know what this probably means?

What? Jungle asked.

I think all evidence suggests that Stark might actually be the centre of the cosmos.

Jungle scoffed. Fuck me.

Scary, isn't it? Michael said. The universe spinning on an axis of cigarette butts and crackheads.

Michael elbowed Richard, who managed a rare smirk, and the men laughed. But Paul saw Arthur and his crew skulk through the front doors, looking tired and mangier than ever. Roo Dog, Anvil and Arthur took stools at the adjoining bar, eyes so dark and bloodshot there was no white in them. It was too late to get up and leave. Tea Cup walked over.

What are you fuckers on about? Tea Cup said, approaching from behind them. He slapped Elmo on the shoulder with a fat palm.

The German figures that we're the centre of all things earthly and intergalactic, Elmo said. They all laughed again.

Tea Cup gave a tense smile and raised his arm to Jules.

You hear that news about Carnarvon? Tea Cup said, looking at Elmo but with his voice raised to ensure everyone heard him. Boat rocked up on the town beach, he said, just today. All the way from Indo, packed full of Afghans.

No shit, said Elmo. I can't believe they got so far south. From Indonesia?

Yep. Java.

That's incredible, Elmo said.

No it's not, Tea Cup spat. It's a fucking disgrace.

The group went quiet again, as if already bored with where Tea Cup was headed.

Paul glanced at Shivani, who was peering unconvincingly at her phone. Michael stared at the counter. He was smiling.

We are being invaded, Tea Cup said. He placed his pile of coins on the bar and took up his pint of beer like a weapon. I told you. The dam is busted. Mark my words.

What would you do if you saw one of those boats? Elmo asked Tea Cup, throwing the scenario to him like a clay disc to a shooter. You know, out there?

Sink it, Tea Cup shot. No joke. Fucking tear a hole in it and watch the fucker sink.

Some of the men laughed in agreement. Tea Cup looked around at them, drinking in their approval. His eyes settled on Shivani.

Boat full of gooks, he muttered, like the words were bitter in his mouth. Sink them and then use them for cray bait. Off-the-boat pieces of trash.

Paul watched the faces of the men in the bar mirror, their awkward reflections, how they both avoided each other's eyes
and tried to find them, each individual attempting to detect the mood of the whole. He saw Michael, noticed that punchline grin on him. He could sense something was coming and he had to stop it.

You still talking? Paul said.

The men at the bar turned at the sound of his voice. Paul thought he might have heard a gasp. He wondered if it had been his own.

What? Tea Cup grunted.

Are you still talking? Paul repeated.

Tea Cup looked around at the other deckhands as if in bemusement. Would you listen here? I think he is trying to tell me something. What are you trying to tell me?

Just saying I heard you, Paul said. I heard you the first time.

You heard what?

There is a boat in Carnarvon. You want to shoot everyone in it. I got that. Now you're just repeating yourself.

Paul returned to his food while Tea Cup stared at the side of his head, apparently unsure what to say or how to proceed. Elmo gave a short laugh that convinced no one.

Think you are the big man now, Tea Cup said. Think you're a fucking man now with your Polish slut.

It was then Paul noticed Kasia had stepped out from the bar kitchen. He saw the worry in her. She held the doorframe like her legs might give out. He felt a flash of heat right through his body.

You lonely, Tea Cup? Paul said, turning to look him square in his reddish face, seeing the spittle in the corner of Tea Cup's mouth. I bet you beat your dick like it owes you money.

The bar seemed to fall into an even deeper quiet, a crushing absence of sound that felt to Paul as if they were all in that moment in a vacuum, the tavern drifting, listless, in outer space.

Outside, Tea Cup said, the anger in his voice weakening it, the words barely a wheeze.

Give it a rest, Tim, Richard said.

I fucking said outside, Tea Cup said again.

You going to show us how much of a hero you are? Roo Dog said from the other side of the bar. He stood up.

Reece, Arthur said. Leave it.

But Roo Dog ignored his skipper and rounded the bar.

You going to show us what you got inside, mate? Roo Dog said, grinning at Paul. Just like your brother did?

For god's sake, Reece, Arthur said with a cackling laugh that Paul read as nervousness.

Jungle stood. You'll have to deal with Jake, he warned.

Fuck Jake, Tea Cup hissed.

Jungle is right, Tea Cup, Michael said. Jake will be looking for you. I do not know if you want that.

What would a Nazi know? Tea Cup said, finding his voice again. The words reverberated through the restaurant.

Michael shrugged. Sounds to me like you have learnt plenty enough from the Nazis.

Michael, Roo Dog said, unsmiling. You got a death wish too?

That's enough, Jules said.

It is enough, Jules, Michael said earnestly. You are right. Sorry. He pointed to his glass. He smiled at Shivani and then Paul. We should be going, he said.

Michael stood up and shuffled out into the beer garden, searching his pockets for his cigarettes. Shivani and Kasia followed, and then Paul, hearing the low, smouldering talk of the men at his back, like a fire lit.

In the void

BEYOND THE BLEARY GLOW OF THE JETTY
and the lights along the inlet, the footpath ducked into bush and into unbelievable blackness. Kasia gave a mock squeal. Paul felt his eyes widen and his breath grow shallow. The thick scrub around them blocked the cool of the sea and shrouded the path in sour, musty fumes. The leafy pong of insects and decomposing reptiles. In the dark they slowed, laughed in whispers, moved hesitantly, walked the path from memory. Kasia grabbed Paul's arm with both of her hands and leant against him. Her breath was hot against his cheek, sweetened with wine.

This is how it must be to be blind, she said, giggling, as they edged forward. Or dead.

Paul imagined a black hole. Depthless. Dimensionless. He noticed how his knees had become bent.

In the void, Kasia whispered about travel and the drugs she
had taken. It hadn't been much. Ecstasy a handful of times. Acid in Florence. Cocaine in Brazil. She told him how with cocaine, when you were up, even just someone touching your arm, raking their fingernails across your skin, was enough to make you crazy. A kiss was something else again. She said she wanted so much to have sex with someone while on cocaine. She had never done that before. Paul hoped she'd say she wanted to do it with him but she didn't.

The bush tapered as the path returned to the roadside, within range of the streetlights. The sudden chill of the sea breeze made him shiver. Kasia let go of his arm and ran ahead. Paul pissed on the gravelly fringe of the path. The loose ground shifted underneath the stream. He briefly imagined her in Brazil, being held by other men, and felt the thought sweep bitterly over him.