NO BRIDGE, NO WAY!. Jan Murray
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boat.
‘It’s your day, Xanthe O’Rourke. Your day, darling. And it’s your life,' said Shelley. 'You own it. No one else. You own today, and you own tomorrow.’
Slowly, Xanthe began to pull away from Blue Angel Beach.
Shelley saw the girl look back and was sure she saw Xanthe smile. She watched as the girl circled the tinny once around the Blue Water Lady then put on speed and headed out into the bay. A wave over her shoulder and she was off and racing.
‘You are one hell of a kid, Xanthe O’Rourke,’ sighed Shelley Bentley as she stood watching the small girl manipulate her boat with confidence. It took her moments to realize she had tears streaming down her own cheeks now.
Shelley Bentley stood for some minutes, knee deep in the warm water, watching Xanthe’s boat disappearing across the waters. She checked her watch. ‘Hey, time you got going, too, Bentley, old girl!’ she told herself. ‘You’re gonna be busy today with this protest meeting, that’s for sure.’
She was wading across to her own boat when she felt something brush against her leg. It was a tightly scrunched up ball of paper floating past on the tide.
The mother’s letter!
Retrieving it, Shelley straightened it out over the bow of her boat and read it for the third time. This time, however, she took note of the date on the top of the page.
The letter had been written three years ago!
And that meant the new baby was old news.
But today the letter had mattered to Xanthe more than ever. Today, thought Shelley, the poor kid had yearned for her mother, for the mother who had forgotten her, the mother who didn’t care that this was going to be the biggest day in her daughter’s life.
Standing there, holding on to the discarded letter and remembering the smile she had just seen in those clear green eyes, Shelley Bentley realized she had been privileged to witness a crucial moment in the young girl’s life; the moment the daughter decided to become her own person.
‘Instead of your mother’s victim!’ Shelley said, angrily, as she swung up into her boat, pulled up anchor and started her engines.
She soon caught up with Xanthe’s tinny and drove alongside it.
‘Go get ‘em, kiddo!’ she yelled across to the girl.
Xanthe nodded, grinned and gave a thumbs up sign then took off at top speed, swinging her boat in a wide arc out into Salvation Bay, leaving the water taxi bouncing over the frothy wake.
‘Knock ‘em dead, soldier!’ Shelley whispered to Xanthe’s disappearing figure. Her heart ached for the child. But she had never felt prouder of anyone in her life. ‘You’re one gutsy little kid, kiddo!’ she yelled out.
At least for today––when she stood on that stage and addressed her community about the urgent need to save their precious island from those who would destroy it––Shelley believed Xanthe O’Rourke would believe in herself. Would have faith in her own strengths.
She looked around, at the bush, at the bay and then up through the tall tree tops to the glistening sun.
‘See you look after her!’ she said to the universe as she too, put on the speed and left Blue Angel Beach behind in its magnificent solitude.
NEWSFLASH!
The Week Before
By Friday morning it is no longer just a rumour. The Island is buzzing with the news and a bunch of kids on Glencairn are ready for the fight.
It was school morning, last day of term. The wharf was packed. The Curlew was about to pull in.
‘Hey, you guys?’ yelled Zoran as he flew down the jetty, leap-frogging three dogs and four schoolbags before skidding to a halt in front of the twins. 'Did you see theStar’sfront page?’
‘It’s hideous!’ said Angel. ‘It’s actually going to happen! Can you believe grown-ups?’
‘I can’t believe anyone could be so dumb!’ wailed Honey. 'Hey, here comes Zanth.'
Xanthe was out of breath by the time she reached the end of the jetty and lobbed her heavy schoolbag at her feet. ‘Oh, boy!’ She took a deep breath then studied the faces of her friends. 'So, I take it everyone’s heard the news!’
‘Yeah. Happy days!’ said Angel. ‘Not!’
‘What are we going to do?’ Zoran, his jaw thrust out and his dark eyebrows crunched together like a pair of fighting caterpillars, slammed his fist into his palm. ‘Guys? C’mon! What are we gonna do?’
‘Stop them. What do you reckon we’re going do?’ said Xanthe, stepping down onto the middle step of the wharf ready to jump onto the deck as soon as the ferry was tied off. She stayed, poised for the jump as the old boat came alongside and banged against the wooden piers, churning the waters into froth.
Zoran tapped her shoulder. ‘How, Zanth?’ he said. ‘Stop them, I mean? How?’
‘Yeah, how?’ Honey called out above the noise. ‘Us? A bunch of kids?’
‘Us against them?’ Angel shook her head. 'Don’t reckon.'
‘Shush. Just hang on,’ said Xanthe. Her eyes were on the boy strolling across the beach towards the wharf.
All heads turned and watched the tall, dark-haired boy lob his backpack up onto the jetty then put one hand on the timbers and swing himself up and under the railing.
‘But Zanth ...’ Honey tugged on Xanthe’s uniform to get her attention.
‘Hang on, Honey!’ Xanthe said, brushing the younger girl off, and at the same time putting a hand out to grab the other twin’s shirt to stop her running up the jetty. ‘Oh my god! You two! Just wait, will you? Wait till he gets here!’ It was obvious Xanthe was deep in thought, so much so that she was almost whacked on the head when Ferry Perry threw his rope out to hook the bollard and tie off the boat.
‘Down here, you lot,’ she said, ordering Zoran, Angel and Honey onto a lower step of the wharf, away from the mob now clambering over each other in a rush to be first onto the ferry. ‘Stay down here. Let them have it. We’re waiting for Jacko.’
‘G’day,’ Jack Nolan said when he joined his friends. ‘No, I take that back. Guess it’s not a good day.’ He acknowledged their gloomy looks and shrugged. ‘A lousy one, right? You’ve all heard?’
‘Yeah, we’ve all heard.’ Zoran jammed his earphones in but kept the scowl.
The water, now that the ferry was tied off and resting, was so clear the leather jackets swimming around the piers were part of the conversation. As was the stranger with the smart briefcase who stood on the jetty above the steps, his dark city suit and his highly polished black leather shoes out of place on Glencairn Island. The stranger leant against the railing, his head inclined towards the kids on the lower step.
‘You know what?’ said Xanthe. 'I reckon we can stop them.’
‘How, Warrior Woman?’ Jack said. 'How?'
‘With dynamite.’
The stranger put his finger against the nose-piece of his dark sunglasses to keep them in place as he bent even lower into the conversation going on beneath him.
‘Dynamite?’ the twins exclaimed. ‘Dynamite? We’re gonna blow it up, you mean? Their bridge?’
The listener standing above them cocked his ear even closer to the discussion.
The Curlew’stransport monitor signaled the five to get aboard but despite Florence Longshank’s impatience, they continued to hold back from the mob.
‘Hey,