The Keeper (7 page)

17

I tell Dev about it in the morning.
Almost
all about it. I don't mention that I'm not supposed to see him any more or about the fishing competition. Dev would be the type to pack up and go home for sure if he heard what Gran said.
Home
. Does Dev have a home? So much I don't know.

‘I suppose your father's name is Scott. That's the name Zoe was throwing around last night. I didn't know any Scott inside. What's his surname? Is it the same as yours?'

My mind goes blank. ‘I – I don't know. It must be different. Gran and Grandad adopted me.'

‘They wanted you that much, eh?'

It's just the way he says it, easy like, but so important. It makes me stare hard and think too. If only Gran could hear Dev when he says things like that. Of course he's a nice bloke. I push away the heavy wings of Gran's fear, and grin. ‘Yeah, guess they did.'

It's like the sun stands still, these times I spend with Dev. Today is no different and it's not until I'm on my way home through the reserve when I get to worrying again how to wangle the fishing competition. Mr Houser is organising it again this year. There's no way he'll let a kid do it without parental permission. At least I've caught some bait to make that special berley Grandad used to freeze up before a big fishing trip. Maybe if I don't shout and swear at Gran; maybe if I try extra hard to explain what it's like with Dev, she'll understand.

I have a go after tea. ‘Gran, about Dev.' It's harder than I bargain for. I can tell what she's thinking before I even start. She's watching me like I'm about to pounce, all wary like, with the dirty dishes in her hands. I give it one last shot. ‘He's okay, really. He likes me. He's my mate—'

‘Joel, if this is about Saturday, I'm sorry.' She looks sorry too, sorry and scared but it doesn't make it any easier.

‘I knew it wouldn't work – talking. You never listen.'

‘Joel, that's not true—' But I'm out of there.

It's only later when they think I'm asleep that I hear the drops of conversation like sea spray in an angry wind.

‘. . . too harsh . . .'

‘. . . dangerous . . .'

And Gran's light rumble, admonishing, ‘I should've told . . . everything . . .' I shiver, halfway between waking and dreaming. What more could there be? Enough was said today to crumble my whole world into pieces.

Yet Zoe's murmur is suddenly hopeful. ‘. . . a way . . . possible . . .' It almost makes me want to get out of bed and listen harder, but not quite.

Next day I can't find Dev. Nor can I ask about him. It'd be sure to get back to Gran somehow. I find myself at Mei's place instead. Part of me feels mean for neglecting her, for only coming because I can't see Dev. She knows it too.

‘Not out with Dev today?'

I stand there for three seconds, then turn. I don't need this. ‘Wait!' Mei's catching at my arm. ‘Don't be like that. I didn't mean it.'

‘You did.'

She shrugs. There's a twinkle in her eye. Why have I always thought she was a mouse? ‘So I got it off my chest. Can we start again? C'mon, let's do something.'

‘How's the writing?'

Mei's cheeks start to colour. I don't see why. I didn't say anything rude.

‘I'm trying to write a novel but I'm not getting very far.'

‘You should write about people you know.' She's annoyed but I still don't know why.

‘You're very knowledgeable for someone who doesn't—' She stops but not soon enough.

Jumping dolphins! She's picking on me. Not Mei? ‘Yeah? Someone who doesn't what?'

‘Look, let's not get into each other's faces, right?'

‘I shouldn't have come.' Don't have to be clever to work that out, at least.

‘You don't have to be like this.' Her tone changes. ‘What's bothering you anyway?' It's her old tone, reassuring. Good old Mei. It suddenly strikes me she's a bit like Dev – can win me round any time. If anyone else at school starts arguing with me when I'm like this, I can't resist the challenge of winning. Mei's got that ‘I-want-to-understand' gleam in her black eyes.

Lost, I sigh. ‘It's Gran. Well, Zoe, I think.'

‘Zoe? Your – boarder?'

‘Yeah. They won't let me see Dev. And now I think he's gone.'

‘It might be for the best, don't you think?'

‘Why?'

‘You don't know much about him, do you?'

‘I don't have to. Look, Mei. He's a good bloke. The best. But no one will believe me. Not even you. Do you?'

Mei chews her lip; glances at me from the side. Surely Mei will understand. ‘It's just weird, that's all. Him coming. Even with the ad.'

‘Look. There's things you don't know. If you knew everything you'd like him too—'

‘Try me.'

I hesitate. There's no way I can do that. Dev's my mate. ‘I can't. It's private, but I know he's okay.'

Mei doesn't look convinced and it's tough spending time with someone who doesn't approve of what you're doing. However hard Mei tries to smile and join in on my enthusiasm for Dev, the zing just isn't there. It's not long before I remember something else I have to do.

Mei

I spent the day with Joel today. Well, part of it. It nearly turned out a disaster. He was in such a mood in the beginning, but fortunately it's not too hard to get him out of it. Except when he's really down. It's funny, ever since that Dev's been around, Joel's hardly ever been really down. Before, he could never go two days without getting depressed over something.

Today he was fine after we got over the preliminaries. I was so annoyed that he hadn't come by before. I think because I like him so much little things bother me more. If my friend Danielle decided not to come near me for days I wouldn't even notice.

I'm so scared that Joel will catch on that I like him. When he does it'll ruin everything. Mum reckons boys like him are too young to think of girls yet. Well, I wish he'd hurry and grow up then. It's just not fair. The weird thing is no one else seems to like him – out of the girls, that is. All they see is the way he loses it in class.

I asked Mum about Dev Eagle tonight. I told her everything. Joel will never understand but I had to decide which was more important: what he thinks of me, or trying to live with myself if something happened to him. I think Joel's in big trouble yet I can't explain why.

Everyone's talking about that Zoe too. Mrs Houser told Mum that if Zoe was just a boarder she'd put her hand in a rock pool with a blue-ringed octopus. Mrs Houser does go on a bit though. Mum said not to say anything to Joel about what everyone's saying in case it's not true. I reckon it'll be cool if it was but Mum said it could be too much of a shock.

18

It's Friday night. I'm in the little old stone shed mincing up fish offal and bread for berley, even though I still haven't thought of a way to do the competition. Not without defying Gran, that is, and I know Dev wouldn't be in on that. None of it's worked out as I'd hoped. How had I thought Gran would accept a stranger as a dad with all her ‘stranger danger' fears? I should have thought it through more. It seemed a great idea at the time; now it's just a mess. Dev isn't always there now when I go down to the old jetty, and Zoe's words keep bashing away in my head –
he's in with Scott
. What's she know anyway? And Gran –
he doesn't want you
. But that wasn't Dev – that was my birth father she was talking about.

Gran and Zoe are putting extra effort into being kind, but it doesn't make up for Dev. Nothing could. Maybe they see how cut up I am. Maybe that's why Zoe gets her ‘maybe-there's a-way' idea. She's in the kitchen waiting for me when I put the berley in the freezer.

‘You're what!' My tone hangs somewhere between hope and horror.

‘I'm coming too. It's the only way.'

‘With Dev?'

Zoe sighs. ‘Yes. You and Dev will enter the competition but I come on the boat as well.'

‘But it doesn't work like that—' Something warns me to go careful. Sounds like I'm getting to do the competition at least. ‘What if Dev won't do that? There's not a lot of room.' Somehow I can't see Dev welcoming Zoe into his fishing space. Zoe's quiet awhile as she watches me. I'm learning to get worried when people watch me like that as if gauging how well I'll take the next piece of information.

‘He will do it. I've already spoken to him.'

‘You what?'

‘You see, Mei's told Gran about Dev replying to the—'

‘Mei?' Shock courses through my body. My legs actually bow. It's like being smashed against a rock face. ‘Mei dobbed?'

‘It's not what you think, Joel. She was worried about you. As it is, it's good she did . . .' but Zoe's voice is fading.
Mei's my mate. Mei?
‘. . . did the right thing . . . the right thing.' I back away. This must be the first time in history that I don't react. I don't shout, I don't throw anything. Something falls away, inside.
Mei?
I can't hear any more, just turn and quietly walk to my room.

No, it certainly hasn't gone the way I thought. So much emotion in the house now; if you struck a match the air would burst into flames. Gran's clucking, trying to win me round through the closed door. Zoe's supporting her, kind but unyielding, with some emotion close to the surface that I can't understand. How come she got so involved with our affairs? Isn't there some place all good boarders disappear to when a crisis happens in a boarding house – their own home, for instance?

Mei

When I told Mrs Billings she already knew. Most of it, anyway. Guess Joel would never understand that it was me telling them about the ad that's made them let him do the competition tomorrow after all. No point trying to explain either. I rang but he wouldn't talk to me.

I hope I did the right thing. If Dev's no good, then Joel will be okay now whether he likes it or not. I think Mrs Billings has even asked the police to watch out for them tomorrow. What I don't like to think about is if Joel's right. If Dev's on the level, he'll leave now for sure. Who'd hang around after not being trusted like that?

19

It's 5.30am; Zoe and I are at the old jetty, helping Dev get the boat in the water. I haven't offered Dev any explanation about Zoe. How can I with her here? But Dev's got this ‘if-that's-the-way-you-want-it' look about his mouth. Mei's not far away, helping Danielle and her dad get their boat down to the water's edge. She looks sorry, keeps glancing over, and I hate the way my stomach churns, the way I want to go over and say it's okay. But it's not, is it? You need a mate to believe in you, no matter what you do. Dev's calling for the bait and gear. The all-clear will be given at six and you have to clock in before 5pm or you'll be disqualified. I've signed out for us already.

‘What's the rules again, mate?'

‘Heaviest fish in any category or largest catch. Only forty whiting per boat though.' It'll be sixty whiting if we count Zoe but I don't want to do that. This is my day, mine and Dev's. Zoe's just a phantom, a shadow in the corner of my mind. ‘Six big reds. Or the heaviest,' I add. It must be the way I say ‘big reds'; it makes Dev look up. ‘Snapper? That's what you're after? We didn't get any the other day.'

‘Grandad often did. They're out there. Mr Houser gets them all the time.'

I carry on putting the fish box in, wider than an esky but just as high. I dunk the hessian bag over the side of the boat and lay it on top of the open box. There are many sections to a competition. Heaviest in one category will win but I want a snapper – and no ordinary snapper – only an old man will do.

It's six o'clock. Dev's still checking the life jackets when Mr Houser's voice comes over the megaphone with final instructions and wishing everyone a lucky day. All the fishing boats are waiting and bobbing like a pre-dawn Viking raid (Gran read that one to me too), with the cars and trailers as still as sentinels on the sand. Don't recognise too many of the boats – must be people from Adelaide and further up the peninsula. Lots of tinnies but a few trailer sailers are even bigger than Mr Houser's Shark Cat. I tighten my hold on the side of the
Sea Wolf
. Dev's ready to pull the pin out.

‘The weather's good for fishing? Right?' Zoe. I don't answer her; Dev barely nods. Though, to be fair, she hardly says another word all day. I'm impressed by that. It must be hard. When she's at home she talks even heaps more than I do, like a lecture or something, all full of those question marks of hers with no space in between to answer them. Gran reckons that's another interesting thing about fishing – it's the quietest I get. It must work on Zoe too.

Mr Houser's stopped going on – here it is – the siren blares and it's instantly drowned by a hundred outboard motors being pulled into life. Mr Houser is always the last onto the water but that hasn't stopped him and Shawn from winning before.

I lean back, feeling the power push me further as the boat surges forward. Dev gives more throttle and the hull lifts high. I grin at Zoe then. She looks really weird, like she's suddenly remembered what it's like being in a fishing boat. Gran gets that same look sometimes, like the time I took her to the reserve and made her sit on the swing.

I shout out to Dev, ‘To the gutter.' And point to the lighter blue water. Others are heading that way too. The first few will have first divvies at the fishing because everyone understands too many boats will spook the fish. I'm started on baiting up hooks with pillies as soon as we slow. There aren't too many other boats around. Some head off south, closer to the wreck.

I tap GrandadTheKeeper_'s old foam esky. ‘We can use this for live bait. Snapper really like fresh squid and crabs,' I inform Dev, ‘not to mention my secret weapon.'

Dev grins but he doesn't ask me what I mean. He sure has great self-control. ‘If there's a snapper out here, I guess you'll get him, mate.'

Zoe sits up on the front above the wheel. Sure hope she doesn't fall asleep and slide off or something. Dev starts into serious fishing mode; his face relaxes, he stares out to sea awhile. I can tell he's only thinking of the job at hand as he takes off his T-shirt, showing another eagle soaring on his back, its vision on something beyond, and – you know what? – suddenly I don't mind that Zoe's there. She's got a hat and a book, but even with her sunnies on I catch an odd expression on her face as Dev peels off. Hope flares; maybe she'll relent and stop seeing him as a guy with a shadow and plait and tatts, and get to like him, same as me.

The magic of being out there takes over for me too. There's something about the smell of salt and fish bait in the early morning air. I bait up my two rods. Throw a hand-line in too. Doesn't take me long to get a bite. ‘Squid?' I try to sound like it's the best thing to catch at first – ‘Bait for the big ones' – as I stuff it in Grandad's esky.

Five squid and five whiting later I'm not so cocky. We should have caught a lot more by now. Fishing competitions should be at night. Too hard during the day.

‘Not already?' Zoe's opening up the lunch esky. ‘What time is it?'

‘One.' Zoe's handing over Gran's sandwiches. I take a Coke. Dev's got a ginger beer.

I think the food helps me get this idea. I start baiting up for an eight-kilo outfit. If you want to catch a big one you have to be ready, eh? And not give up.

This is when I get my secret weapon out. The snapper haven't come by themselves; now is the time to take the offensive.

‘What's that?' Dev, breathing over my shoulder as I get the berley out.

‘Frozen berley.'

Zoe wrinkles up her nose. ‘That's the stuff he was mixing up last night. Ponged the shed out. And then he put it in the freezer.'

‘What's in it?' Dev leans over for a closer look.

‘Fish guts from the catch yesterday, pillies, fish oil. I used Gran's old mincer.'

‘You're dedicated, mate. I'll say that for you.' A compliment from Dev. I let it settle somewhere deep inside.

I drop a few of the blocks over the side in a keeper net. ‘It'll make a constant trail, you see. Grandad always said that the snapper won't bite if the trail of berley gives out – they'll turn round and finish up what they were following. That's why he froze it. It lasts longer.'

I get my rod resting in a holder while I finish the Coke. Dev's glancing down at me, sort of frowning, getting ready to break something to me I mightn't like.

‘Reckon you might have set your sights a mite high, mate. Too early in the season for snapper.'

Too early? What's he talking about? Just swallowing my mouthful so I can disagree but Dev keeps on. ‘I was up at Whyalla January long weekend. When they have the snapper championships . . .'

‘You win?'

Dev chuckles. ‘Nah, mate. Some bloke got a 13.5-kilogram, but he didn't beat the record.'

Record? There's a record? I squint up at Dev. ‘What's the record?'

‘Fifteen kilo and it's only happened further up the gulf.'

‘That's mega huge. Mr Houser's never got one that heavy.'

‘Don't you get any ideas either. They'd never be that big in October, nor this far south.'

‘Grandad used to get lots of nannies.'

‘Did he ever take you on the competition?'

‘Not this one – hey!' Suddenly my ratchet's singing. ‘Yeow!' My Coke goes flying as I pick up the rod; pull back to set the hook. My line is disappearing so fast it's like something out of
Jaws
. I almost panic.

‘There's plenty of line, mate.' Dev. Soothing but watchful.

I keep the pressure on, playing the fish, letting line out, reeling in. We see the first sign of colour ten minutes later. ‘It's a big red. It has to be.' I start to reel in, to bring it closer. Zoe's starting to squeal. Then suddenly the line goes slack – like, hello? Nobody home. I try not to swear.

‘Too bad, mate. At least we know they're out here.'

‘Look!' Zoe this time, peering over the front of the boat. ‘There's something out in front.'

I see them. ‘It's snapper!' I'm reeling in, ready to bait up and cast again, but Dev's telling me to hang on. Something's wrong.

‘Looks like they're not staying, mate.'

I watch the spasmodic activity of the fish; coming in closer to the boat but not close enough. Swimming away again.

‘Maybe the one that broke spooked them?' Dev's contribution.

But I'm reaching into my bait esky. ‘Nah. It's the berley. There isn't enough to keep ‘em now they're here.' I cut up one of the squid I caught and drop pieces over the side.

‘How did you know that?' Dev's looking at me funny. I haven't seen that expression on someone's face close up before so it's hard to tell but I think he's impressed.

‘Know what?' I'm dropping bait-sized pieces of offal in the water now. I brought extra just in case.

‘That snapper love to eat.'

‘Grandad said you can never overfeed a snapper.'

Dev's excited now and he's got a few good ideas of his own. ‘Cast further out, mate. Up at Whyalla the bigger ones would hang back.'

Now it's on and I'm really pumped. I've baited up again with double hooks. So has Dev and we've got a spare in a holder. Dev's rod bends like an acrobat almost the moment he drops the line in. Here it comes. Not one but two! A double header of nannies.

Then I get a big red. Dev lands another. In the space of half an hour we've got twenty nannies.

‘We'll get too many nannies soon – we'll have to start releasing them.' Dev's counting.

‘Just one more drop-in. We still can't win – the nannies might be snapper but they aren't heavy enough.' I pull the largest big red closer. ‘This won't win either. It only looks about nine kilo.' Dev doesn't argue with me and I drop my line in again, but this time there's nothing. Like the snapper had all come to a party but now it's time to go home, thank you very much.

‘Oh hell, we've lost them.' I'm trying to think what could have happened.

Dev offers a few suggestions: tide change? shark? wind?

That's it, I bet. The wind. We've turned slightly, the breeze is up. Dev's looking to me to see what I want to do. I appreciate that. Like he thinks I'm capable.

I make a decision. ‘Let's pull up the pick. We'll go over near the island. There's a bit of a reef there.'

‘You sure, mate? There's not much time left.'

‘There has to be – if we go in now we won't win anyway. We can't give up now.'

Zoe's not reading her book at this point: ‘Does it matter?'

Does it matter?
What's with her? Of course winning matters. That's what competitions are for. I don't even answer her.

We're trolling now, dragging the berley. It's Dev who sees the terns first. They're over the reef, swooping, soaring. Dev grins at me. ‘Looks like they're having a banquet over there, mate.'

‘Yeah.' And where terns are feeding there's likely to be bigger fish patrolling.

We turn the motor off and bob, letting the wind bring us in near the reef. The sea's basically behaving itself, not too much slop. I drop a line in and almost immediately my rod doubles into a curve. ‘Quick, Dev—' I grab hold of the rod and set the drag just as the fish takes off, stripping the line from the reel. I'm panting already, just thinking of the fight ahead.

‘Dev, it's too big. I should have heavier line.'

‘Let it have its head, mate. Not too tight.' Dev's not so casual now, his voice taut like the line.

‘It'll break—' Suddenly the line goes limp. This is past swearing. I try not to let my eyes water. I'm getting too stressed now, trying too hard. ‘He's gone . . .' I start winding up the slack. ‘Hey!' The rod's bowing again.

‘Let it out!' Dev's standing now. ‘More! Back the drag off a bit.'

‘He's turned. Whoa – is he strong!' I'm breathing fast one second, holding my breath the next.

‘Hold him, mate—'

‘He's stopping again—' I'm frantically winding in the slack. ‘He's still there. Look at him go!'

Zoe's put the book away. ‘Behind us.' The water looks like it's boiling; the line cutting across the water. Jumping dolphins! It's heading for the anchor rope!

‘Change his direction. Guide him! Pull him! Not too hard.' What a contradiction, pull, not too hard. I hope the line doesn't break. With Dev's advice I alternate between pulling up and letting go and after a full fifteen minutes I can finally see pink under the water.

‘It's a big red! It's a keeper!'

Dev isn't celebrating yet. He picks up the gaff. ‘We've got to land him yet, mate.'

I wind in the line; the fish's tiring at last and as it comes alongside the boat it lies still, exhausted. So am I. ‘Get the net!' Dev uses the gaff as I lean over with the net and we both haul the fish onboard. It's an old man red. I trace my finger along the hump on his head. It has to be thirteen kilo at least and I only had eight-kilo line. Not bad, eh?

Now Dev grins. ‘This is nearly as big as you. Reckon he's a winner, mate?'

And Zoe produces a camera. ‘Smile, guys.'