Didn’t really want to go to the beach, but Mum insisted. She wanted to take Toby and me to visit Nan on the way home too. So I got my stuff, chucked some things in a bag for Toby, buckled him into his car seat. Normally I’d recite The Monster Kings from the front while he turned the pages on his lap in the back, but today I turned on the radio and pulled down my sunglasses.
‘I should have asked if you wanted to bring a friend,’ Mum said when we pulled into the car park at Kingscliff.
‘Doesn’t matter. Billy’s busy with homework today.’ Billy’s few visits to our place meant he was now my ‘friend’ when one was mentioned or needed.
I carried Toby over the tarmac, the hot wind biting into us, Mum coming up behind with the bags. It wasn’t even worth bringing the beach umbrella, not in that wind.
I’d never told her, but I hated the beach. I could swim all right in still water, but that beach was scary. Waves smashed down on the shore as far as you could see. I’d grown up in Tasmania, fair-skinned, swimming only occasionally. Running was what I’d been good at, not water sports. Too late to catch up now.
In front of the surf club the water was full of confident boys – and a scatter of girls – carving up the waves on sharp little surfboards, running up the sand afterwards to shake the water out of their bleached surfie hair and lie down in rows, all flat stomachs and fluorescent swimmers.
Not exactly my scene. And with Mum and Toby, I was horribly visible.
A gust of wind swept down the beach, chucking sand at us as we laid down our towels. Toby screwed up his eyes, ready to howl. Normally I’d have picked him up, wiped his eyes, sorted it. But not any more. I had to be careful. Even with the wind, the beach was full of people. For sure there’d be kids from school here, the ones who were too cool to play weekend sport. Turned away and started plastering disgusting sunscreen on my arms.
‘Jawwa!’
Pretended I didn’t hear. Stared at the waves, rubbing the muck into my pale skin. Let Toby go from a little howl to a big one, until finally Mum picked him up, patted him, brushed the sand from his eyes. She shot me a look.
‘Can you put some of that on your brother when you’ve finished?’
‘I’m hot. Can’t I swim first?’
Didn’t wait for an answer, just shoved the sunscreen bottle at Toby and left them standing there. Walked down the beach feeling pasty and wrong. Splashed into the waves like I was going out there, and hid in the crowds when the water got to my thighs.
I flopped around for a while, keeping a low profile, ducking my head under the whitewash. Wishing we could just go back home where I didn’t feel so exposed. When I reckoned enough time had gone by, I headed back up the beach, past boys and girls with gleaming tans and big sunglasses. Back to Mum and Toby, who was grizzling.
‘He’s still got sand in his eyes. I’ll have a quick dip then we might go for an ice-cream,’ Mum said.
I nodded and sat down. Mum strode off in a spray of sand. Toby banged the shovel on the plastic bucket to indicate that I should help with the sandcastle. I knew that game. I’d make one and he’d smash it. For as long as I was willing to keep going.
‘Not today.’ I put my sunnies on and draped a towel over my shoulders.
Toby hit the bucket harder and I turned my head away from him. A full-scale tantrum was just what I needed.
‘Jawwa!’
‘Shut up, Toby!’ I hissed at him.
His lip trembled and he started to cry. I knew if I took him onto my lap I could comfort him. I forced myself to sit still, ignoring him. It took everything I had.
He was still crying when Mum came up the beach. ‘Jesus, Jarr,’ she said, picking him up. ‘Wanna come for a dip, Toby boy?’
He stopped crying, gave me a disgusted look and clung to her. ‘No. Ice-cweam.’
‘Yeah, I’m with you on that,’ she said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
I just about broke into a run to get away from the beach. We crossed over to the ice-cream parlour. Figured it was high-risk, like the pizza place and the beach, so I stood at the other end of the counter from Mum and Toby. Kept my eyes on the ice-cream, didn’t look around. Mum didn’t want Toby dribbling his all over the seats, so we perched on those stupid white metal chairs ice-cream parlours always have, and I watched Toby dribble chocolate down his bare belly, before dropping the last of it on the ground and launching into a screaming fit.
I let Mum carry him back to the car and wrestle him into the booster seat. He threw himself around, red in the face, roaring. I sat in the front saying nothing. She finally got the seatbelt buckled and slid into the driver’s seat. We pulled out, with the sound of Toby’s shrieks blocking all conversation.
The nursing home was on the road out of town. Toby fell silent about halfway there. It was all right for him. No matter how forgetful Nan was, she always loved Toby.
Mum parked the car and turned her head. ‘Oh, bugger,’ she said softly.
I looked over my shoulder. Toby had fallen asleep, his head slumped to one side.
‘I’ll stay here with him if you want to go in,’ I said. ‘She never remembers me anyway.’
Mum hesitated. ‘Let’s just go home,’ she said at last. ‘I saw her yesterday. We can come another time, hey?’
‘Sure.’
She got the car out on the road and turned inland and I knew what was coming.
‘Is everything OK?’ She always asked that kind of thing when we were driving.
‘Yeah, good.’
‘Really?’
‘Yep.’
‘You know you can always talk to your dad and me about anything.’
‘I know.’
Up ahead Mount Warning came into view. It gave me something to look at.
‘We’ll have to pull together to help Dad,’ Mum went on. ‘I need you to help me with Toby, especially till we get a new routine organised. Can I count on you?’
‘Sure. Can we put the radio on?’
I was happy for Dad; it wasn’t that. But I was planning to do less with Toby, not more. I chose my station, the one loud enough so we couldn’t talk any more, though she made me turn it down so Toby didn’t wake up. I felt sticky and sandy and sunburned, in spite of all that stuff I’d rubbed on my skin.
Little Mummy.
It was late by the time we pulled up. Mum parked outside the gate and looked over her shoulder. ‘Look at him,’ she said softly.
I turned. Toby’s head drooped. His belly was sticky with ice-cream and sand crusted his eyelashes and hair and feet. His lower lip stuck out.
‘I’ll get all the stuff,’ Mum murmured. ‘Can you bring him in? You’re good at waking him without drama.’
She gathered the damp, sandy piles of stuff out of the boot and headed through the gate and across the lawn. I opened Toby’s door quietly and looked down at him.
People love seeing a kid asleep but he made my chest hurt just as much when he was asleep as awake. I couldn’t help it. I loved him way too much.
I glanced around, just to make sure I was alone, then put my hand on his head.
‘Toby? Wakey-wakey? Home-again-home-again-jiggedy-jig.’
He stirred, blinked, opened his eyes. Looked at me.
For a minute it was like he knew exactly what I’d done. But maybe I’d imagined it, because he blinked again, stretched, then smiled and held out his arms. ‘Jawwa.’
There was no one to see me unbuckle him, lift him out, hold him close, ignoring the sticky ice-cream gluing us together. No one saw me kiss the top of his head and the moment of sweetness that came over him when he put his arms around my neck and squeezed me as hard as he could.
‘Sorry, Toby.’ I whispered. ‘Sorry.’
Took my time to carry him across the lawn. I didn’t want Mum or Dad wondering why my eyes were red.