Page 5 of Into the Tempest

Then Tully turned me to face his father. “This is my dad, Ken.” And his brother, whose shirt now looked decidedly dishevelled. Had Tully ripped the collar? “And the walking, talking nut sac, Ellis.”

His dad shook my hand. “Ignore them. It’s nice to meet you.”

Ellis gave Tully another shove and shook my hand too. “So you do exist. I thought for sure he’d made you up.”

Oh, goodness.

“I do exist, yes.”

“And you spent time out in the cell block with him?”

“The cell block...”

“He means the bunker,” Tully explained.

“Oh, right. Yes. I loved it. I’d actually like to spend more time there.”

“Oh, so you’re as batshit crazy as he is,” Ellis said, trying to touch Tully’s face. Tully wrestled with him again until their mother spoke.

“Boys!”

They stopped immediately, but Mrs Larson took my arm. “Come inside out of this dreadful heat,” she said, ushering me in toward the door.

I turned back to see Tully’s father give them both a clip behind the ears. It didn’t help that he was smiling when he did it.

“Holy shit, he’s got the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen,” Ellis said. I think it may have been an attempt to whisper but we all heard it.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tully said, putting him in another headlock.

“Forgive those two,” his mother said as we entered the building. “They get like that when they haven’t seen each other for a while.”

It was an easy twenty degrees cooler inside, and I almost sagged with relief.

“We’ll go through to the cafeteria,” she said. “Can I offer you a drink? Did you say you’d been travelling?”

“Ah, yes. I’ve come back from Melbourne.”

“Oh, you must have been up early,” she said, frowning. “Help yourself to whatever food you want.”

“I’m fine,” I tried. But wow. It was an actual cafeteria, and there were some guys in blue overalls at one table. I assumed them to be dock workers.

“We offer all our workers meals around the clock,” Mrs Larson explained, clearly reading my curiosity for what it was. She led me to the beginning of the cafeteria line, slid a tray over, and loaded up a plate of sandwiches, some cut fruit, and two coffees. She took the tray to a table and sat down, and seeing Tully was in the line with his brother and father—and not really knowing what else to do—I sat opposite Mrs Larson.

She took one of the coffees and put the food in front of me. “Please, eat,” she said. “Travelling is a beast, and airport food is terrible. These are made fresh all day long.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. “Uh, thank you.” I picked up a small triangle of ham, cheese, and tomato sandwich and bit into it. It was really very good.

“So,” Mrs Larson said. “You’re a doctor?”

Oh great.

By the time I’d finished chewing and swallowing, Tully had plonked himself down next to me. “He has a PhD in meteorological sciences,” he said, with his mouth half full of what was possibly chocolate cake.

“Not a medical doctor,” I added. “Much to my father’s disdain.”

I hadn’t meant that to sound so bitter, but anyway, there it was.

“Don’t let him fool ya,” Tully said. “He’s humble and self-deprecating, but he’s a genius, and at least ten years ahead of his colleagues.”

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