The Hunting (35 page)

‘Is there no one here with a single idea?’ Mrs Finney sighed. ‘Your loving parents are paying God knows how many thousands a year to send you here. Do you not feel you owe them something, a little effort?’

‘My father would pay double if you’d keep me here in the vacations too,’ Zara stated. ‘Apparently I make him uncomfortable too.’

Genie could believe it. She was annoyed about her sketchbook. Everything had gone wrong now. Rian didn’t love her, Renée didn’t seem to care, Cary was like broken in pieces and now her sketchbook was confiscated. She looked out of the window and saw a smashed car on the road. Which was impossible – they only had a view of the top of trees. A bright-blue Mini smashed and a dead horse or deer …

‘You’ve gone very white, Rhiannon. Are you OK?’ Mrs Finney asked.

‘Seen a ghost?’ Zara asked, then laughed.

Genie turned her head. She didn’t know if this was the future or it had already happened. Last thing Genie remembered was Sophia screaming.

‘You’re awake?’

Genie blinked. She was lying on a chaise longue in Mrs Finney’s office.

Mrs Finney was thumbing through her sketchbook. She was smiling at her. Snow was falling again outside and it was curiously quiet.

‘You are quite an artist, Rhiannon. Mr Duckworth tells me that he thinks you should be an illustrator.’

Genie said nothing. She felt quite light-headed.

‘I should thank you. You fainting like that, got me out of that hell. That Zara makes my head pound and as for the others—’

Genie struggled to speak. ‘I don’t want to be in that team,’ she rasped.

Mrs Finney laughed. ‘God, I wouldn’t permit it even if you begged me to let you in. Every year there’s always a group just like them.’

‘But … I have to be in a team,’ Genie protested, but very quietly.

‘You’re in a team of one. There’s no one to touch your artistic skills. I am entering you in the special criteria category. That sketch of Sophia, with her little pixie ears poking up between her hair – priceless. I envy you, girl. I always wanted to draw. Never wanted to teach. Just be an artist.’

Genie felt herself relaxing. She wasn’t in trouble.

She suddenly remembered her vision.

‘Mrs Finney. Can I ask if you drive a Mini? A blue one?’

‘That’s Mr Calvino’s car. Drives too fast, if you ask me.’

Genie nodded. She didn’t know him but guessed he was a teacher.

‘Why?’

‘Do you … I had a premonition.’ Genie closed her eyes. She didn’t want to do this but it would be on her conscience if she said nothing.

‘So Sophia said.’

Genie opened her eyes with surprise and sat up. ‘What did she say, exactly?’

Mrs Finney stared at Genie a while.

‘You’re quite special aren’t you, Rhiannon. Not at all surprised with a name like that. Was my favourite song, you know. ‘Rhiannon’. Stevie Nicks. I was about ten and sang it all the time until my mother used to beat me to stop. That’s another thing, of course; I wished I could sing. Never wanted to be a teacher at all, I suppose.’

‘What did Sophia say, Mrs Finney?’ Genie insisted.

‘You saw something terrible. She said you could see the future.’

Genie laughed. It sounded fake even to herself.

‘I know Sophia is strange and for that matter Zara too, but I know you saw something and I happen to believe very strongly in premonitions.’

‘You do?’

‘I do. I go to see a fortune teller in Victoria once a year for “check-ups”. Don’t tell anyone and I won’t tell what you saw. OK?’

Genie nodded. ‘Then I won’t tell you Mr Calvino crashes his car into a horse or deer. That’s what I saw.’ \

Mrs Finney sat back in her chair and thought about that. ‘Of course, there is the matter of telling him. Making him believe it.’

‘Hide his keys, Mrs Finney. Don’t let him drive home in the snow.’

‘Can one truly intervene in fate? What do you know about fate?’

‘I know that you can change it. My grandmother said “forewarned is forearmed”.’

‘Did she now.’

Mrs Finney seemed to contemplate that a moment. She looked at her watch.

‘If I took you with me to the staff room and perhaps distracted Mr Calvino for a moment, do you think you could find his keys?’

Genie stood up. ‘I will try.’

‘And I will send him home in a cab. You didn’t see any cabs in your vision?’

‘No. It was very quick. Just an instant.’

Mrs Finney made her decision and pushed her chair back. ‘The first part of madness is believing what you hear. The second is acting on it. Consider me mad, my dear, and, please, upon your honour, this is between us.’

‘On my honour,’ Genie replied.

Mr Calvino was ridiculously tall. Why was it that tall men bought small cars and small fat ones bought big cars? This was what Genie was thinking as she stole the keys. He didn’t even seem to notice she was there. A common trait in teachers, she’d noticed.

She’d arranged to meet Mrs Finney back in her office. The door was locked. She had to stay outside in the corridor, she desperately wanted her sketchbook back.

‘Still here? She must really hate you,’ Zara said as she walked on by. She was dressed in a huge fake-fur coat with hood. Genie was almost envious; her own coat was useless in the snow.

‘Do you know where I can find Sophia?’ Genie asked.

Zara stopped suddenly and spun around. ‘Don’t. She’s scared of you.’

‘I …’ Genie didn’t know what to say to that.

‘But I think you’re OK. You should know that your boyfriend is bewitched by Louise Hunterson. I mean, you’re cute, but she’s a killer. Gets anything she wants. You don’t look like a killer.’

Zara turned around again and walked away. This was truly her skill – sucking the life out of people and moving on.

Genie stood quite still. She had a name. Her instincts were correct. Rian had found someone else.

‘We saved a life today, I hope,’ Mrs Finney was saying as she approached from the other way. ‘I already called a cab.’

She opened her door. Genie walked in behind her and gave her the keys. Mrs Finney gave her back her sketchbook in return. She was looking at Genie more carefully.

‘The boy – the one you keep drawing. Is he your boyfriend?’

Genie could barely speak. ‘Was.’

‘Oh.’

‘Mrs Finney?’

‘Yes?’

‘Shouldn’t it be enough to love someone? I mean, why would he look at someone else?’

‘And let you escape?’

‘Yes.’

‘Boys break hearts – they don’t even think about it. And yes, my heart was broken once – twice actually. I have a husband now. There is a Mr Finney – a nice, generous, nine-handicap Mr Finney – who couldn’t break my heart if he tried it with a crowbar. It remains broken. If yours is breaking now, I’m sorry. I have no magic words to make you feel better.’

Genie clutched her sketchbook close to her and kept back her tears.

‘Thank you, Mrs Finney. Thank you for not lying to me.’

‘Come and talk to me anytime. This is just between us.’

Genie shuffled towards the door. She just wanted to curl up and die but she had to go home, where
he
would be coming home to.

‘And Rhiannon?’

‘Yes, Mrs Finney?’

‘Any boy who could break your heart doesn’t ever deserve you. Remember that. Get home safe and we will discuss what you will draw for Governor’s Day on Friday. OK? Go home and eat something before you disappear.’

Genie got out of the room, left the building, reached the outside and then cried. It was so cold her tears froze to her cheeks.

The wolf was waiting for her at the gates. She barely acknowledged it as it walked beside her all the way home, staying near, just occasionally checking that she was close by. Both were covered in snow now, alone with their thoughts.

Genie paused outside her cabin. It was dark. No one home. No one would have lit the fire. She went down on her knees and tentatively put a hand out towards the wolf. It turned away in fright and bolted towards the trees.

‘Thank you,’ Genie called out after it, wondering where it went, how it lived. Why it had waited for her? She had a wolf for protection now. How strange was that?

She headed towards the cabin. There were no lights on. It would be cold. She resolved not to make a fire. Let them feel as cold as her heart.

At some point Rian would be coming home, smelling of Louise, and she didn’t know what to do about that at all. She had some honey toast, curled up on the sofa with the duvet around her and much to her surprise fell fast asleep.

Genie ate breakfast alone in the freezing cold cabin. Renée didn’t appear to have come home; Rian certainly not. This was ridiculous. They had come here as friends for ever and now what was left? Absolutely nothing. Rian knew, more than anyone else on earth, all the terrible things that had happened to her in her life and he’d sworn to love her for ever. She had relied on that, took comfort in that, built her future around that.

Now it was nothing.

There was no cereal or oatmeal or milk. It had been Renée’s turn to shop and she had forgotten, again. She had to make do with black tea. She hated black tea. It was still cold outside but not snowing at least.

She contemplated her French class that began at eight thirty followed by double physics and then world geography. She knew she was going to flunk all three. Geography could have been interesting – if only the teacher had some enthusiasm or talked about something that would grab her interest. Earthquakes maybe or ice ages but no, it was all about climate change and pollution and soil erosion and it was just too depressing. Some days she didn’t even want to save the planet.

She resolved to go see Cary instead. He’d need a visitor.

She didn’t think about how hard it would be to get there. She’d walk to the highway and hitch. Seemed like a good idea. Someone had to visit him; it could get very lonely in hospital.

She looked out for the wolf as she trudged down the road, the impacted snow easier to walk on where the cars and trucks had been driving, although slippery in parts. No wolf, no cars and no people. It was uncannily quiet save for the distant sound of a buzz saw, something that no rural area could be without, apparently. Always someone got to kill a tree. It was a long slow walk in the snow. Four or five miles at least and she wished she had warmer boots and a warmer coat. She thought of her snug blue ski jacket back home and then remembered that that too would be gone when the house was swept away in the flood. Everything was gone. Her entire existence. She was Rhiannon now – with two ‘n’s for some stupid reason.

She was glad the wolf wasn’t around. She didn’t want to lead it to the highway where people would try to shoot it. She wondered how rare it was for a lone wolf to be living in her patch of the woods or even attach itself to someone. That had to be really strange. She should Google it. Marshall would know. She briefly thought that she should keep going. Catch the ferry at Nanaimo, hitch all the way back to Spurlake and the farm and see Moucher. Stupid, idiotic idea, right? Who would hitch hundreds of miles just to hug a dog? No one. Nevertheless, she really wanted to. She needed that sense of security back. She wanted to belong to something, someone. Rian had snatched it all away and she felt sick to the stomach with uncertainty.

It was a milk truck on the way to Nanaimo that stopped for her. Hen Bay Farm –
purified twice to make it nice
it said on the truck. She recognized the driver and his funny scruffy goatee. He delivered the milk to the school twice a week and he was always anxious about the turn around in the school parking lot. How on earth he recognized her, she had no idea.

‘Knew it was you right away. No one walks like you.’

He’d stopped about thirty metres ahead of her. She hadn’t even had her thumb out, it was so cold. He had chains on the tyres and wore tinted specs over a very sad moustache. She guessed he was about fifty but could be ten years out. He was always smiley at least.

‘You ain’t running away, are you?’ he asked as she climbed in and practically hugged the hot-air vents.

‘Going to Nanaimo General. Friend had an accident.’

‘Heard about that. Principal mad as hell about the window.’

Genie nodded turning her head a little; her ears were burning they were so cold. ‘My friend flew right through it. His folks can’t visit. Not fair to be alone in hospital when something like that happens.’

The man nodded. ‘Name’s Ben. Been in hospital when I broke my legs back in ninety-six. No fun when no one visits, that’s for sure. That’s what persuaded me to get me a wife on the interweb. She takes care of me good. Doesn’t like me being home much but takes care of me good.’

A case of way too much information, but she had a ride and that was fine by her. He wouldn’t try anything either since she was an Academy girl.

They slowed at the Koksilah turn off. There was an accident ahead.

The traffic was light, but there were enough cops and ambulances there that it had to be a major incident.

‘We got to stop in Duncan to offload some, but then we’ll be on our way again,’ Ben told her as he sucked on a peppermint.

They had to take a wide berth to get round the smash. Genie stared at the carnage with astonishment. A blue Mini was wrecked, a dead horse lay in a heap on the highway and some Native Americans were looking glum as they argued with the cops. The driver of the Mini was clearly badly injured, but looked as though she’d live. Genie felt sorry for the horse.

‘They let the horses run free. They can’t see the road in the snow. Can’t blame the horse,’ Ben remarked. ‘Waste of a good horse.’

Not Mr Calvino’s turn to die then. Also, obviously there was more than one blue Mini out there.

‘You all right? It’s a nasty accident, but she didn’t die.’

‘Need a hot chocolate, I think. I feel a bit faint.’

‘I’ll get you something in Duncan. Always stop at the Pancake House. They buy our milk.’

Genie looked at him with sudden appreciation. ‘I’d really like to have pancakes. I can’t remember the last time I had pancakes.’

He smiled broadly. ‘Then you shall have them. You need feeding up. You’re not one of those girls who starves themselves, are you? I never understood why anyone would voluntarily starve themselves. Wife’s always on a diet.’