Shadow of the Mountain (6 page)

Her father nodded. ‘I’ll ring as soon as we know what’s happening. I’m not sure how long it’ll be.’

‘All set,’ the medic announced.

Geneva hugged her father quickly.

‘I’ll phone,’ he promised.

Watching her father settle on the folding seat opposite the stretcher and reach for his wife’s hand, Geneva was buffeted by a wave of emptiness. As the doors closed the wave broke, tears forcing their way up past the lump in her throat.

‘Come on,’ Angus said, his hand warm on the bare flesh of her arm as he steered her towards the house. ‘Time for a cuppa.’

‘It’s lucky you were here,’ Geneva said, nestling into the
polar-fleece
Angus had insisted she put on. ‘I still can’t believe you knew all that stuff. And you were so calm.’

‘It’s always easier when it’s not someone you know.’

They were sitting in the den, a cup of sweet tea cooling
between Geneva’s hands while Angus rummaged through the first aid kit at her feet. He’d insisted on checking the hastily applied band-aids. Geneva stared at the blood that had oozed around them as he eased off her running shoe.

‘This needs taping properly,’ Angus announced, lifting her foot.

Geneva winced and Angus looked up in surprise. ‘Did that hurt?’ he asked.

‘I think I knelt on some glass when we first came inside.’

With the memory, her knee began to throb. Setting the mug aside, Geneva bent to roll up the leg of her track pants. She was startled by the trail of blood on her shin, and to see blood still welling from a small but deep gash.

‘You should have said something.’ Angus reached for a gauze pad.

‘I’d forgotten it till now.’

‘It might need stitches.’ His fingers were firm and
professional
as he removed a shard of glass from the wound. ‘I could drive you to A&E, if you think your father’d be okay about us using his car.’

‘No, it’s okay,’ Geneva said hastily. ‘It’s not that bad. Just tape it up.’ She flinched as Angus pressed a pad across the cut. ‘I can go to the doctor tomorrow if I need to,’ she added.

Angus watched her quizzically.

‘I’d rather stay here, for when Dad rings. He’d worry if I didn’t answer when he calls and I’ve got no way of
contacting
him.’

‘We’d find him easily enough once we got there.’

Geneva let the silence stretch. She wasn’t ready to explain further.

‘You okay?’ he asked.

She nodded, her eyes sliding away around the room. ‘I’m sorry about this,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s always a bit weird round here, but not usually this weird.’

‘It’s no big deal,’ he said, taping the edges of the pad.

She looked at him. He’d been hot and sweaty when he’d arrived, and the hair that usually flopped over his forehead had dried back off his face. There was a thin smudge of chain oil on his left cheek, running down to meet the scar that curved along his jaw.

‘What?’

She hadn’t realised she was staring. Geneva flushed. ‘
Nothing
. You’re really good at this stuff.’ She nodded towards the fresh bandage, and his hand which still rested beside it on her knee.

‘I’ve had a bit of practice. It’s kind of what I want to do.’

‘Medicine, you mean?’

‘Something along those lines. Not sure yet.’ He stood up. ‘Stay there. I’ll get something to clean up the blood.’

Obedient, Geneva waited. When Angus came back he brought her a fresh cup of tea and settled himself again at her feet. As he began to gently sponge blood from her shin he glanced up and caught her grinning.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ She smiled. ‘It’s just … nothing.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I was just thinking how it would look — you kneeling at my feet. If only my girlfriends could see me now, eh?’ she added lightly.

Angus gave a snort.

‘Though I doubt Kitty would be impressed,’ Geneva said, a touch of bitterness edging into her voice. ‘Actually,’ she hurried on, ‘what I was really thinking is that it’s good to know something about you. Something serious, I mean, like wanting to go into medicine.’

‘If you’re about to confess a fetish for medical practitioners, I’m out of here,’ Angus announced as he finished sponging her shin. ‘For at least as long as it takes to collect my
stethoscope
.’

Geneva smiled and shook her head. ‘No fetishes that I know of. It’s just good to know you’re interested in more than climbing. Some people get way too obsessed with it.’

‘You were worried I was a bimbo,’ he accused, sitting back on his heels.

‘No! It’s just, some people are. You know,’ she trailed off.

Angus’s brown eyes studied her. ‘Okay,’ he said finally. He was good at knowing when not to push. She watched as he packed the first aid kit away. ‘You’ll need to restock this,’ he observed.

She mumbled assent.

‘You should check that you can bend your knee
without
it pulling too much.’ With one hand resting gently on her freshly bandaged knee, he lifted her foot till the knee straightened, before slowly lowering it. As his hand slid from her knee to her calf, Geneva swallowed.

‘Feel okay? Not too tight?’

‘I don’t think they should trust you with a stethoscope,’ she said, her stomach jelly.

Angus grinned, his fingers still laced around her ankle. ‘They’d probably be right.’ He paused. ‘One of the things I
came out to tell you was that I enjoyed Friday night. Despite Jax.’

She nodded. ‘Me too.’

The sudden silence felt charged — almost crackling. Angus’s fingers moved on her ankle. The scar at the corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Hey, I was wondering —’

The shrill of the telephone made them both jump.

‘That’ll be Dad,’ Geneva said, shrugging herself back to reality and an image of her mother being carried out to the ambulance. Keeping her weight on her heel she limped into the kitchen and reached for the phone.

G
eneva sighed and shook her head, Monday morning hanging in her head like fog. ‘I can still cook, Dad. You didn’t need to ask Mrs Macphee to do it.’

‘She wanted to help, and you’ve got enough on your plate. I’ve made you an appointment at the doctor’s straight after school.’

‘Dad! I told you it was fine.’

‘Your friend Angus advised me to ignore you if you said that,’ her father admitted, throwing her a quick sideways smile. ‘He seems a nice young man. It was good of him to stay — I couldn’t have left you on your own.’

‘I’d have been all right, you know,’ Geneva said, though she’d been just as grateful for Angus’s presence. ‘I’m not a kid.’

‘I know you’re not,’ her father agreed. There was a pause while she watched his hands tighten convulsively around the steering wheel. ‘I’ve been meaning to say, it was a good idea, beeping the horn like that. As soon as I heard it, I knew that something …’ His voice trailed off.

‘Oh, Dad! I’m really sorry. Not about beeping. I mean about … about everything.’

‘It hasn’t been much of a year, has it Genna?’ He cleared his
throat and turned brusque. ‘You get off to school, now, and I’ll go and see your mother. I’ll be here to pick you up at three.’

Geneva nodded and climbed out of the truck. There was so much that needed saying that her throat felt full with it. He smiled thinly as she held the door. ‘You’re a good girl, Genna.’

The metal felt smooth and cold beneath her fingers. ‘See you, Dad.’

‘Hey, Gen-eeev-er. I hear you’re a bit of a dark mare.’ Leonie smirked while the rest of her coven giggled. ‘Who’d have thought it, eh? Wakefield boys, two at a time.’

‘Do they know about each other?’ a sniggering voice asked.

‘They probably go in for threesomes,’ Leonie answered. ‘You know what that Wakefield lot are like.’

Geneva shouldered past them.

‘How come you’re limping, Geneva? Worn yourself out?’

More sniggers.

‘Did you have a good time, down at the beach last
Saturday
?’ Leonie called before turning to her cronies in mock surprise. ‘And I always thought she was such a goody-good,’ she added loudly.

‘Good at all sorts of things, Leonie,’ Geneva snapped, unable to keep to her decision to ignore them. ‘Not
two-dimensional
like you.’

Leonie narrowed her eyes. ‘You’d better watch yourself, Knowles. Days when we had to be extra careful with precious little Geneva are long gone.’

The library was cool and quiet. Ms Tiedemann, the librarian, had often turned a blind eye to Geneva using the place as a refuge, but it had been months now since she’d been in for anything other than a book, and this was the third time this week.

‘Hello, Geneva. How are you today?’

‘I’m fine, Ms T. Do you mind if I sit in here for a while? I’m still off PE and I’ve cleared it with Mrs Jamieson.’

The librarian eyed the wide plaster that covered Geneva’s knee. ‘Looks nasty. What happened?’

‘It’s no big deal. I cut it on some glass.’ Geneva knew from experience that Ms Tiedemann was discreet but there seemed no reason to go into detail.

Her mother was still vague about what had happened. The doctors hadn’t found any specific reason for her fall. The
consensus
seemed to be that she’d fainted, put out a hand to save herself and knocked the bowl to the floor in the process. Her injuries came from hitting her head on the edge of the bench as she went down and then from landing on fragments of glass. That was the theory.

It didn’t quite add up. Her mother had never been prone to fainting and Geneva could see no reason why that would change — unless she was on some medication that might cause it, but the doctors were adamant it wasn’t that.

The one thing everyone agreed on was that it could have been worse. She could have fallen on the jagged base of the bowl or done worse damage when she hit her head. The doctors had kept her in for an extra couple of days so they could run a series of tests, but they hadn’t turned up
anything. She’d been cleared as fit to go home on Wednesday, and questions about the reason behind the incident had been shelved.

‘How’s your mother, Geneva?’

Geneva started guiltily, wondering if the librarian could read her thoughts. ‘Fine, thanks.’

She’d been sleeping a lot since she came home from the hospital. Her father said that was normal after a head injury, but Geneva wondered whether it meant that the nightmares which had troubled her earlier in the year were back. Suddenly she found herself longing to share her fears.

‘Mum had a fall at the weekend and knocked herself out — we don’t know why she fell. She broke a bowl, and I was cleaning it up when I cut my knee,’ Geneva blurted. ‘She’s getting better now.’ At least I hope she is, she added silently. All her father had said when she’d asked was that time was the best healer.

Ms Tiedemann had stopped cataloguing books and was eyeing her with concern. ‘Do you need help at home? There’s always Community Services —’

‘Oh, we’re fine. My aunt’s been helping out,’ Geneva answered hastily. Julia had rung to see how they were every day since the accident. Angus had called too, not as often, but Geneva had found herself hoping it would be him each time the phone rang.

‘I don’t imagine you can cycle with that knee. How are you getting to school?’

Geneva knew that the woman’s concern was well-meant but she was already regretting her outburst. Ms Teidemann had always had a nose for the weak spots.

‘Dad’s been driving me, but I should be fine by next week.’ The doctor had told her to rest the knee for a fortnight but she didn’t intend to follow his advice. It wasn’t just the
independence
she missed. Being dropped off by her father gave Leonie’s crowd additional ammunition. Even after a week they hadn’t tired of their game, this morning adding a new twist as her father had driven away: ‘Under supervision, are you, Geneva? Been caught doing something you shouldn’t?’

She also knew that driving into town twice a day took a big chunk of his time, just when the farm was hitting its busy season.

‘Is there someone you could stay with in town for a few days?’ Ms Tiedemann asked. Bingo, again, Geneva thought. Once, she’d have stayed with Kitty, but that was hardly an option now. ‘One of your friends, perhaps?’

Geneva put on her cheeriest smile and shifted her armload of books purposefully. ‘That’s an idea,’ she said.

She could feel Ms Tiedemann’s eyes on her as she walked with the smallest possible limp over to one of the study desks that were ranged along the far wall.

Opening her geography text book, Geneva buried her head and pretended to read. She’d been surprised by how lonely the fall-out with Kitty had made her feel. It wasn’t as if anything had changed: it had been the better part of a year since they stopped living their lives constantly in each other’s company. But the brief revival of that friendship — very brief, she reminded herself — had brought back memories of
something
Geneva found she wanted.

She’d never had close friends besides Kitty. She’d never needed them. There were plenty of girls at school she got
along with, but she’d felt closed off from everyone this year. Maybe she’d isolated herself, as Kitty had suggested. Whatever spin you put on it, there was no longer any chance of a renewed friendship with Kitty. It still stung, that her one-time friend had been so quick to gossip to Leonie, turning their private argument into a public joke. Kitty didn’t participate in the baiting; by contrast, she scarcely acknowledged Geneva’s existence.

‘Which suits me just fine,’ Geneva whispered into the silence of the library, glancing up quickly to check that Ms Tiedemann hadn’t heard.

‘D
on’t you ever check your mobile?’ Angus asked. ‘I texted you a couple of times over the weekend.’

Geneva rolled onto her stomach and hooked her elbows over the end of the bed, the phone tucked against her shoulder.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I guess I’m out of the habit. I mostly just carry it on the bike, for emergencies.’ When he’d told her that he and his family were going away for the weekend and asked if she had a mobile, she’d struggled to remember the number.

‘I started to wonder whether you were sending a message by not replying,’ he added.

Geneva frowned at a muddy-looking stain on the carpet. ‘No message intended. It’s just that I don’t use it much. I’ll check it out as soon as I hang up.’

‘How was your weekend?’ Angus asked, changing the
subject
. ‘How’s the knee?’

The weekend had been dire with her mother more vacant than ever and her father hovering awkwardly. After two days of close confinement she was short-tempered with them both and looking forward to school, despite Leonie and her crowd.

‘The sooner I’m back on the bike the better,’ she answered. ‘I went for a quick ride this morning but the dressing’s a bit of a nuisance.’

‘Didn’t your doctor say you should rest it for a fortnight?’

‘Medics,’ she murmured darkly. ‘It’s the holistic approach that matters, and my mental health will be seriously at risk if I don’t escape the family shackles soon.’

Angus laughed. ‘Tell me about it. A weekend away with the menagerie and I’m a straitjacket candidate. Adding in a household of squealing pre-pubescent cousins didn’t help.’

Geneva suspected a dose of hyperbole in Angus’s account. His little brother couldn’t be as bad as he made out and on a scale of one to ten, an over-organised mother didn’t rate more than a four in her book. But his retelling served the purpose: by the time she hung up she was feeling happier than she had in days.

She reached straightaway for her school bag, rummaging in the depths for her mobile — it was only there in the event of flat tyres, tsunamis and sundry other unlikely crises. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d turned it on. There were five messages and Geneva grinned, flipping to the first.

Wgtn wet. family reunion same. howz yr mum? angus.

Geneva smiled. He’d sent that on Saturday morning. She flipped to the next message.

Smug bitch

The smile slid off Geneva’s face. The sender’s name was masked. She clicked to the third message.

Think yr so special duh

Her hand shook as she brought up the fourth message.
Any1 out there? wish I was. need rescue from bro and cuzzies. A.

The final message was from Angus as well.
Hello? wots up? call u sunday pm. angus.

Geneva sank onto the bed, her breath rapid and uneven. With fingers that shook slightly she scrolled back through the phone log. The second and third messages had been sent on Saturday evening, an hour apart. Angus’s last message had been Sunday morning. This morning.

Taking a deep breath, Geneva considered the messages. Kitty was one of the few people who knew her number, but surely she wouldn’t be that petty. Jax maybe? But it wasn’t a guy’s style. It had to be Leonie or one of her cronies — which meant Kitty had passed on the number.

Geneva felt sick. She didn’t want to deal with it. Clenching her teeth, she deleted the messages and threw the phone back into her bag.

She no longer felt ready for bed. Stomping into the bathroom, she skulled a glass of water, washed her teeth for the second time and willed her stomach to stop churning. She should text Angus to make sure he knew she wasn’t ignoring him.

When she turned the phone on, there was a new text
waiting
. She opened it warily.

Mooo

Geneva took a deep breath and steadied herself. Not worth getting worked up about. She erased the latest text then opened the last one from Angus, lodged his number in the phone’s memory, and keyed a response:
Glad yr back. sorry ph was off. c u soon. Geneva.

She sent the message and switched the phone off. If he
replied, she’d read it in the morning — together with whatever other messages arrived. Geneva knew she shouldn’t let it get to her. If Leonie was behind the texts, it was undoubtedly best to ignore them. Thumping her pillow she rolled onto her side and tried to sleep. As if.

When Geneva woke her sheet was wrapped cocoon-like around her and her eyelids felt glued to her cheeks. She thumped her alarm into snooze mode twice before she was ready to drag herself out of bed.

Her father frowned as she slumped into her chair at the kitchen table. ‘You look tired.’

Geneva nodded. ‘I didn’t sleep that well,’ she mumbled, weighing the comparative restorative powers of Vegemite and Weetbix.

‘Knee all right?’ her father asked.

Geneva nodded, settling on Weetbix. ‘Fine.’

‘If you’re worried about your mother,’ he began tentatively, ‘she’s just a bit run-down. She’ll be all right.’

Geneva looked at him in surprise. Her mother was usually a taboo topic — one of several. And ‘run-down’ was an
understatement
. Run over was more like it.

‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ she asked cautiously, studying her father’s face for clues. Something like therapy, maybe, or a holiday, or … or whatever it took.

Her father shook his head. ‘It’s just a matter of time,’ he said.

Geneva sighed. Her mother might have been better off if she had been run over. At least then they’d be dealing
with some definite physical problem that could be treated with more than time. She slopped milk into her bowl and fought an urge to fling Weetbix around the kitchen,
satisfying
herself with imagining it sliding wetly down the walls. That was how she felt after a week of being cooped up and unable to get out on her own: as if she was wrapped in soggy Weetbix.

‘We’d better get a move on,’ her father murmured.

Geneva had to run to beat the second bell, but at least being late meant she didn’t see Leonie all morning. Kitty and she shared three classes but they’d had all year to perfect the art of ignoring each other. No change there.

When she checked her phone at lunchtime, Geneva felt both relief and disappointment. If she hadn’t been hoping for a message from Angus she wouldn’t have bothered
turning
it on — which was exactly what she needed Leonie, or whichever of her clones had sent those texts, to think. No way could she let on they’d reached their target.

After school, a cluster of Leonie’s crowd were hanging around the bike stands. Shouldering past, Geneva wondered whether they’d been waiting for her. As she wended her way through the bikes there was a drawn-out ‘moo’, almost a moan, behind her. The corner of her mouth lifted: she was pleased she’d guessed right. Pleased, too, even though it was irrelevant, that it wasn’t Kitty leaving the messages. As she unlocked her bike and turned to face the group Roz
repeated
the cow noise. Geneva stopped with a frown. ‘Feeling all right, Roz?’ she asked mildly. ‘I’d expect more of a baa from
you — or is that just for when Leonie’s around?’

Roz’s reply was explicit, and Geneva made a show of looking puzzled. Maybe that’ll convince them it’s a waste of time, she thought, as she headed for the gates. Maybe not.

She gave her father a broad smile as she climbed into the truck. Ms Tiedemann’s suggestion last Friday had given her an idea.

‘Dad,’ she said as they turned off the expressway, ‘would it be okay if I stay with Julia on Wednesday night? The school volleyball team’s playing Bledisloe College and I wouldn’t mind going along to wave the flag. If I catch a bus from Julia’s to school on Thursday morning, it’d save you a couple of trips,’ she added.

Her father turned his eyes from the road to look at her. They’d talked more in the past week than they had in months. It was as if his wife’s accident had somehow steadied his focus. ‘I don’t mind driving you,’ he said.

‘I know,’ Geneva agreed. ‘It’s been really good. But I know you’re busy on the farm, and the tournament won’t finish till about nine. I can ring Julia tonight, if you’re okay with the idea.’

She didn’t like fudging the truth, especially when he was so obviously making an effort, but she needed to see a friendly face — several friendly faces, she corrected herself.

Her father shifted gears as they climbed the hill from one of the road’s many gullies. ‘As long as Julia doesn’t mind, and you can get to school without any difficulties, then I guess it’s all right with me.’ He paused, the car topping a rise that brought the mountain into view ahead of them. ‘Any chance Angus will be at the tournament?’ he asked.

Geneva could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. ‘I haven’t asked him,’ she said truthfully.

‘Perhaps you should,’ her father suggested, the hint of a smile lifting some of the shadow from his face.