A loud whistle sounded from the shore. She turned and saw Aaron gesturing to the dinghy.
Denny glanced at her with something like regret in his expression. ‘Looks like it’s time to head back.’
*
It was mid-afternoon when The Blue returned to harbour. There was no mention of the girls joining the crew, and neither Lana nor Kitty felt comfortable asking. Aaron ran them ashore in the dinghy, and they sat together watching silently as the yacht shrank in their wake.
The noise and heat of town seemed to thicken the closer they drew to land, like a gathering thunderstorm. Lana’s earlier ebullience deflated as she thought of the sweltering heat of their guest room and the stringy kebabs they’d probably pick up for dinner in town after fighting their way through the crowds, street dogs and litter.
Aaron tied up the dinghy and held it steady as the girls climbed out. The ground seemed unstable after a night and day at sea and Lana felt as if she were swaying.
She hooked her bag across her shoulders, glancing at The Blue for a final time. The day had taken on a surreal quality – as if Lana and Kitty had swum into a dream from which they were only now waking.
Lana pushed her hands into the wide pockets of her dress and faced Aaron. ‘Thank you. It’s been an incredible day.’
‘Yes!’ Kitty chimed at her shoulder. ‘Amazing. Literally the best day of our entire trip. That beach was just … unreal. We’ll never—’
‘Be back here in two hours with your stuff,’ Aaron interrupted. ‘We set sail at eighteen hundred hours.’
Lana blinked, staring at Aaron. He was leaning back against the nose of the dinghy, arms folded across his chest, his face expressionless. ‘Sorry?’
Beside her, Kitty’s mouth was beginning to split into a smile. ‘Are you saying … we can join the crew?’
‘We took a vote on it and you’re in. Joseph is going to bunk in with Heinrich, so there’s a free cabin if you want it.’
‘Holy shit!’ Kitty exclaimed, clamping her hands over her mouth.
‘Are you serious? We can join the crew?’ Lana asked.
He nodded. ‘But I haven’t told you the conditions yet.’
‘Anything,’ Kitty said.
‘There are four rules. You break them, you’re out.’
They nodded vigorously.
‘One. Everyone pulls their weight – that includes cooking, cleaning, laundry, sailing, night watches – anything that needs doing. Don’t wait to be asked. Get stuck in. I know you don’t have any sailing experience, but I expect you to learn. Fast. Two. All important decisions are made by group vote – where we travel, what we buy, who comes aboard. Once made, the vote stands. Three. No relationships between the crew. We don’t need the complication.’
Kitty arched an eyebrow. ‘You run a celibate boat?’
‘I never said anything about celibacy. I just said no relationships.’
Kitty grinned.
‘And four,’ Aaron continued. ‘I’m not a nanny so don’t expect me to act like one. Everyone’s responsible for their own safety – we’ve got life jackets, harnesses, a life raft, flares and an EPIRB on board. Ask one of the crew to show you how they all work, and wear your life jacket or safety harness whenever you see fit.’
He ran a hand over the back of his head, the stubble of his shaven head scraping against his palm. ‘So what d’you reckon? Still coming?’
Lana turned and looked over her shoulder towards the yacht, a bright, effervescent sensation filling her. She found Kitty’s fingers and squeezed them tightly between her own. ‘We’re coming.’
Lana paces through her apartment, her fingers buried deep in the pockets of her dress. The painting she was working on is drying, unfinished. On a normal day, she would be getting ready for work by this time. But she can’t even think about going into the gallery and making coffees for customers. She can’t think of anything but The Blue.
She knows that the Maritime Rescue Centre, which will be dealing with the rescue of the crew, is only 30 kilometres away – she passes the sign for it each month when she goes to the art supplies wholesaler for her boss. She grabs her mobile and searches the Internet for the number.
When she finds it, she sits on the edge of her bed and makes the call. It takes several minutes to be connected to anyone associated with the rescue of The Blue. Eventually she is transferred to Paul Carter, the Operations Coordinator, who has a broad New Zealand accent and tells her that they are not at liberty to give out any details.
‘Look,’ she says, banging the heel of her hand against the wooden bed frame, making a dull thud. ‘Just tell me if Kitty Berry was on board. She’s British. She’s got no family out here. I can get in touch with them.’
Lana doesn’t know where the authority in her tone has sprung from, but she knows she will not be ending this call until she has an answer.
After a moment she hears the sigh of someone acquiescing. ‘Okay, give me a minute.’
As she waits, she bites the edge of her thumbnail, her skin tasting faintly of turpentine. She finds herself thinking of the first time she met Kitty. They were eleven years old and the summer term had just begun. Lana was grateful for the warmer weather because it meant that at lunchtimes she could sit alone in a sunny corner of the playing fields, and didn’t need to stand around in the courtyard trying to make herself look invisible. She’d take out her exercise book and fill the back pages with wild shapes – swirls of smoke, twisting currents of water, clouds that billowed and bloomed from the pages.
She had seen Kitty around – they lived in the same street and took the same bus to school – but they’d never spoken. Kitty styled her glossy dark hair in a high ponytail, pulling thin wisps of it loose around her temples. She was often followed around by a loud group of boys who wore their backpacks so low that they bounced against their bony arses.
Lana had been sitting cross-legged, watching a feathery seed from a dandelion drifting towards her on a whisper of breeze. She was mesmerized as it turned through the air, daylight catching in its white softness. She wondered what it would feel like to be that weightless. She reached a hand up into the air and caught it gently in the palm of her hand, imagining its tickle against her skin. Then she closed her eyes and made a wish. She wasn’t sure that you were meant to wish on dandelions, but she’d done it anyway.
When she opened her eyes, she carefully unfurled her fingers and – for a moment – it rested right there on the centre of her palm, as if she had tamed it. A few seconds later it lifted off, carried upwards on a current of air.
‘What you doing?’ Kitty was standing nearby, her school bag hanging off one shoulder.
‘Making a wish,’ she said. She felt her cheeks flush, cross that she’d not thought of something better than the truth.
‘What did you wish?’
‘You can’t tell people, otherwise they don’t come true.’
Kitty shrugged. Then she bent down and plucked a dandelion from the long grass near the fence