Caro Was Here by Elizabeth Farrelly

Author:Elizabeth Farrelly [Farrelly, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781925081763
Publisher: Walker Books Australia
Published: 2014-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Caro dreams of thundering horses’ hooves, a stampede. About to be trampled, she is on full fight-or-flight alert before it dawns on her that it’s actually rain, drumming on the boat. Heavy rain. Like, really heavy. The boat is bursting with sound. Now fully awake, she is also one hundred per cent wet down one side, and underneath where water has trickled into their hollow. The sand feels like cold concrete. She lifts herself on one sodden elbow and looks out.

The fire is invisible in the darkness. Dead. She turns over and tries to shuffle in, pushing Ned towards the centre, but it’s pretty much solid bodies in there. Tatiana is cuddling Nigel like a teddy and Ellen is snoring lightly. Caro lies back and tries to will herself to sleep but the sand feels lumpy and her knee is throbbing from the oyster cut she got from that stupid dive. She shivers and huddles in, pulling Ned’s hoodie across them both.

“I’m hungry,” he murmurs.

“Sorry, honey, didn’t mean to wake you,” she says into his ear.

“I was awake,” he says. “Ellen’s snoring.”

“Me too,” says Tattie, next to him.

“Me too awake? Or me too hungry?”

“Or me too snoring?” says Ned.

“Awake and hungry,” says Tattie.

Caro can tell she is trying not to complain.

“I’m wet,” says Nigel from the other side. “Pretty much all over.”

“I can’t believe this is your idea of adventure,” says Ellen, waking. “If I had my phone …” she lets her voice trail meaningfully.

“Yeah, so useful. We could call a cab,” says Caro. “Or a stretch hummer.”

“Or a chopper,” says Ned. “They could winch us up like Jamie Savage.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” says Caro. “All right? Everyone?”

“It’s okay, Caro. We’re fine.” Tattie puts a hand on Caro’s.

“But it’s still an adventure, right?” Nothing will dampen Caro’s conviction that any adventure is better than no adventure.

“A dry, light adventure is one thing,” says Ellen. “A wet, dark adventure …”

“We should think of it as, like, night waterskiing,” says Tattie.

“We should find some proper shelter,” says Caro.

“How long till morning?” says Ned.

No one knows. Forever, probably.

“Okay,” says Caro. “House or shed?”

“I vote house,” says Nigel.

“Or prison?” says Caro.

“No way am I going out in the bush at night in the pouring rain,” says Tattie.

But after a few more minutes on the cold damp sand, staring at the dark underside of the boat, that’s exactly what they do. Retracing their steps from the afternoon, they head back along the road and up the bush track. For a few minutes a skinny moon appears and they find the big stone gates without difficulty. The stone courtyard is unlit and lifeless. At the entrance, Tattie pauses.

“I don’t want to go in. It’s scary.”

“Me neither,” says Ellen.

“So stay here in the rain,” says Caro, heading in. And as if on cue, the sprinkling starts again.

They make it into the tin lean-to at the back of the little house just as the rain becomes heavy. At first it’s such a relief to be inside that they sit there in the dark, dripping onto the cold dirt floor.

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