Page 28 of The Island

“Scared. Aye,” Ma said. “We don’t want anyone to be scared, do we?” Ma shook her head and closed her eye. She seemed to be thinking things over. A log in the fire cracked and split.

“Look, uh, maybe Ivan and me should get the ferry over to Stamford Bridge and call the coppers, let them handle it—what do you think, Ma?” Matt asked.

Heather looked at him and mouthed, Thank you.

Ivan and Jacko shook their heads.

“Too much history with Vic police. You know what’ll happen,” Jacko muttered. “One of us will get bloody blamed for it and for other shit, making our own grog or something, and this bastard will get off scot-bloody-free.”

There was a murmuring of agreement from most of the adults in the room.

“Nah, no cops. Terry never needed no cops,” Ma said.

A long silence. Kids whispering. Sweat pouring down Heather’s back. It had to be 115 degrees in here. Even the big blackflies looked defeated and lethargic.

“Perhaps I could agree to some sort of down payment. Now. As, um, proof of my sincerity and culpability,” Tom suggested.

Heather gave his hand a little squeeze. This was maybe the way to go.

Ma coughed and someone got her another drink.

Tom got to his feet. “Look, I’m very sorry, I understand your—”

“Who said he could stand up? Sit him down, Ivan!”

Ivan thumped Tom in the stomach with the butt of his rifle.

“Jesus! Not with the gun, mate!” Matt groaned but it was too late; Tom was doubled over on the floor.

Heather found herself getting up and lunging at Ivan. He slapped her hard on the face. Harder than she’d ever been hit in her life. She turned almost completely around and went down too.

The children screamed. The dog began to bark.

“Christ, Matt, I can’t think with this racket. Why did you bring ’em in here? Get them out of my bloody house while I decide what we’re going to do!” Ma said.

Heather dry-heaved in panic.

No one knew they had come here. Their phones were gone. The conference organizers wouldn’t start to get worried about Tom until Monday night or even Tuesday morning before his keynote. And by then it would be too late.

7

Ma pointed her stick at Jacko and Matt. “It didn’t used to be that I’d have to say something twice around here. Get them out of my house! Get ’em out, search ’em good, put them in the old shearing shed until Danny gets back.”

Heather was facedown on the wooden floor. Her left arm was underneath her body. She reached into her pocket, took out the miniature penknife she’d gotten in Alice Springs, and shoved it down the front of her jeans. Not a moment too soon. Jacko grabbed her painfully by the hair and tugged her to her feet. His brother Ivan pushed her to the front door, where Kate grabbed her by the back of the neck and gave her an extra shove. She tripped down the porch steps and put her hands out to save her face as she fell again into the dirt.

It was dusk and the red disk of the sun had sunk into the mainland, leaving great throbbing waves of heat in its wake. Olivia was crying. Heather got to her feet and tried to take Olivia’s hand but Jacko shoved them apart.

They were marched to the old shearing shed, which was a wooden structure about thirty feet long by ten feet wide. The door had a padlock on it. There was straw on the floor and it stank inside. It clearly hadn’t been used for shearing for many years. The family was pushed in.

“Sit!” Jacko said.

Heather sat on the floor.

“We should tie them up to be on the safe side,” Jacko said.

“Yeah,” Kate said.

“Ma didn’t say anything about tying anybody up,” Matt said.

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