to the beach, trudging along the sand, sweat soon running down her spine from the midmorning heat. She has forgotten her hat, but she doesn’t care, making her way to the groyne that curves into the water like a lizard’s tail. She steps out along the rocks until she is sitting above the sea, watching the spray flying up, snatches of rainbows appearing briefly within the foam.
She stares into the distance, trying not to remember the little joey’s frightened eyes last night. She wants to be angry, but can only feel numb. She can’t think how she is going to fill her day. She can’t summon up the motivation to get something to eat, let alone figure out the larger goals in her life.
Maya had been full of plans at sixteen. Life seemed awash with choices back then, but now her mind is empty. She knows Pete is nudging her, trying to get her to decide what to do next, but she hardly dares. She needs solid ground in which to plant her dreams. Right now it’s as though she is living on shifting sand.
All these thoughts make her depressed, and her own melancholia begins to piss her off. Stop moaning, she tells herself, getting up to walk back, brushing the sand off her smooth, undamaged legs.
The sun is a Chinese burn on her skin by the time she gets to the car, and her scalp is sore. She is tender inside and out, but tiredness is beginning to override everything. She switches the stereo on full blast, so that the words ring in her head far louder than her unquiet thoughts. Perhaps that is one way to drown a memory – with noise.
Once back in the van, she sweeps aside all the detritus related to the kangaroo. Objects that had appeared portentous and lifesaving last night were nothing more than clutter this morning. She lies down on the bed, and when she opens her eyes again she can’t believe that the sun is going down. She is covered in sweat. She had expected her dreams to be miserable, but her brain had found the void this time, and sleep had been a deadened, empty space.
She sits up and gulps down half a bottle of water. Then she checks her phone. Nothing. She is surprised she hasn’t heard from Luke again, and calls his number, wanting to tell him about the joey. But he doesn’t pick up. After a few more tries, she gets fed up, and sends him a curt message telling him the joey is dead.
She has spent a whole day grieving for one small creature, but to Hayden’s group it will be business as usual. Just another night to drink and have fun, to maim and kill. She’s suddenly angry with Luke. He got her into this; he encouraged her to care, and look where it’s got her. And now, because she expressed emotion, he has discarded her as unfit to join him. Not everyone can be an automaton. Is allowing yourself to feel something really that bad? Her feelings don’t make her weak. In fact, she will prove it. If he won’t involve her, she will go anyway.
She gets up and flings some clothes on, choosing dark colours, and a black beanie. She will go there right now, and do everything she can to stop the wanton killing. When she sees the cars approaching, she’ll make as much noise and movement as possible to frighten the animals off before there’s any danger. Then she’ll do whatever it takes to keep them away. She will show Luke that she is far stronger than he imagines.
Her fury driving her on, she grabs the knife, and stalks out into the night.
22
Pete
Quite often at the moment, when Pete closes his eyes, his thoughts stray back across the years to Monkey Mia. He sees Connor’s contented, tanned face, his eyes always on the water, one arm slung casually over Desi’s shoulder. And he remembers Desi’s whole body pressed against Connor’s, her arms locked around his waist. It had been a halcyon period for all of them, even though, in reality, how long had he spent with them there? A few short visits adding up to a month, maybe two? But for this brief time their lives had been so vibrant, and none of them had ever recaptured it. They’d had youth on their side, and the glorious arrogance that went with it. They had each believed they could change the world;