First he saw Mum’s face, looking down at him with sad red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks and her forehead screwed up into so many crisscross lines he felt dizzy and sick trying to count them.
Then he saw Dad’s face, frowning at him with dark eye bulges and droopy mouth creases that were darker and droopier than he’d ever seen before.
Then he saw Mitch Wilson, staring at him gloomily.
Then he saw Owen the milkman, looking at him sadly.
Then he saw Mr Naylor, smiling at him with a thin mocking smile.
Then he woke up.
He was in a bed in a big bright room with lots of other beds in it.
Mum and Dad were sitting by the bed looking down at him.
Mum smiled, but her frown lines didn’t go away.
Dad smiled too, but his droopy mouth creases just sort of stretched a bit.
They both hugged him.
Keith realised he had a headache.
‘You’re in hospital in Cairns, love,’ said Mum gently.
‘You’re going to be OK,’ said Dad.
They told him about the storm and how it was the edge of a cyclone that had gone back out to sea and how Raylene from the chemist’s had found him lying unconscious on the road on her way to check that Mrs Newman was OK and how the ambulance had taken hours to get him to Cairns because the road was blocked by trees and how he’d been asleep for eighteen hours and how worried they’d been about him.
Keith didn’t say anything about the shop because they didn’t and he thought they looked depressed enough after sitting on those hard hospital chairs for eighteen hours.
He didn’t mention it in the days that followed, either.
He decided not to say much about anything.
He slept most of the time, and when he wasn’t asleep he pretended he was so he wouldn’t have to talk to Mum, who sat by his bed for several hours each day.
He wanted to talk, but not about the things he thought she’d want to talk about.
Like how coming to Australia was the worst thing they’d ever done and how they’d be going back to England as soon as Keith was better.
Anyway, she didn’t have to tell him that out loud. He could tell from her face.
On the third day he couldn’t stand it any more and spoke.
‘Nurse,’ he said, ‘could you get my Mum a cushion?’
The only cheery person around was the doctor who stopped by the bed each day and shone a light into Keith’s eyes.
‘Good,’ he said every day, ‘good. I wish the plank of wood was coming along as well as you.’
Then one day Mum came in looking much happier.
‘Come on,’ she said, ‘we’re going home today.’
‘Where’s Dad?’ asked Keith.
‘At home,’ said Mum.
Great, thought Keith, Dad was so anxious to get back to Owen the milkman he couldn’t even wait for us.
As Keith got dressed, he wondered if people who’d had concussion were allowed to fly.
Perhaps they won’t let me on the plane, he thought.
Then Mum would have to fly to England without him and he’d stay in Australia and become a wealthy sheep farmer with a property the size of Lewisham and then he could fly them back out.
Forget it, he thought gloomily. Champion boxers fly all the time and they get concussion on a weekly basis.
As he climbed into the ambulance Keith briefly considered making a run for it, but decided not to.
He didn’t fancy being on the run in a country where the police carried guns and chewed chewing gum.
What’s the point, he thought glumly. Lie back and let it happen.
He’d tried to make Mum and Dad happy and it hadn’t worked out.
At least he’d have the consolation, when they were living in a high-rise council flat and Dad was selling roof insulation and they were all miserable, of knowing he’d tried.
Keith wondered why the ambulance was taking so long to get to the airport. He tried to see if they were in a traffic jam but couldn’t because of the frosted glass in the windows.
He looked at Mum, dozing in her seat, and remembered how her face had lit up when she first saw Orchid Cove.
And how she’d smiled when Dad had announced the shop was a goer.
Now, as she dozed, not only was her brow furrowed, her mouth was starting to droop too.
‘Mum,’ he said.
She blinked awake. ‘Yes dear?’
‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘What’s that, love?’
Keith took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy but it might just make her feel a bit better about having to leave.
‘There are poisonous jellyfish,’ he said. ‘In the sea off Orchid Cove. And all up and down the coast.’
‘I know love,’ she said.
Keith had already started telling her about the stonefish before he realised what she’d said.
She knew?
‘Stonefish,’ she was saying, ‘that’s right.’
‘And crocodiles in the rivers,’ he said, wondering if he was dreaming.
‘I know,’ she said, smiling.
‘And poisonous snakes,’ he said.
‘That’s right,’ she said.
‘And spiders,’ he said, suddenly desperate to find at least one horrible thing she didn’t know about.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘And coconuts that drop on your head and coral that infects your fingers,’ he shouted.
Mum bit her lip.
At last, thought Keith, something.
‘I’m sorry love,’ said Mum, ‘we should have told you about all those things.’
Keith stared at her.
‘But we knew how much you wanted this place to be perfect,’ she continued, ‘and we didn’t want to make you miserable.’
Keith tried to speak but couldn’t.
‘We should have told you,’ said Mum, ‘when Uncle Derek’s travel agent friend told us.’
‘So you mean,’ said Keith with difficulty, ‘you don’t mind about them?’
Mum smiled and shook her head.
Keith’s head was spinning.
‘So if the cyclone hadn’t come,’ he said, ‘we wouldn’t be leaving?’
Mum looked at him with a puzzled little frown.
‘Leaving?’ she said. ‘We’re not leaving.’
Keith realised the ambulance had come to a stop and the driver had turned the engine off.
The doors opened and Keith could smell fish and chips.
He stepped out.
They were in Orchid Cove.
The ambulance was parked in front of the shop.
The shop had a new front on it.
Keith could smell the primer on the new timber. Through the new panes of glass he could see Dad at the fryer, hair curled up at the front.
Dad saw him and came out.
‘Not a bad job, eh?’ said Dad, pointing to the new front of the shop. ‘Mind you, I had expert help.’
Out of the shop came Doug from the service station and Tracy’s dad and Tracy, all eating fish and chips.
‘G’day,’ said Tracy. ‘Your Dad’s been telling me some of the things you used to get up to in England. Pretty wild stuff for a Pommy whinger.’
Grinning, she offered him a chip.
Dazed, he took one.
‘They reckon,’ Dad was saying, ‘that cyclones only come once in a blue moon, so we’ve decided not to worry about the next one till it happens.’
Keith stared at Mum and Dad.
Grinning, they both gave him a hug.
‘OK,’ said Dad, ‘enough of this. There’s a shop to be painted. We’ve saved you the top coat.’
He handed Keith a paintbrush and a tin of paint.
Keith looked at the brush and the tin. Then he looked back at Mum and Dad, whose grins had become huge smiles of delight. They gazed at him, eyes shining.
Keith realised he was feeling something he hadn’t felt for a very long time.
He was feeling happy.
He dipped the brush into the Tropical Mango Hi-Gloss.