Chapter 21
written by I love music
ideas and suggestions by Skykat
Background Music
Back in the days when she lived in Brookdown, Martha discovered that a swiss army knife was a very handy item for someone who worked on a farm. The one she owned was particularly useful. As well as corkscrew, toothpick, keychain, can opener and bottle opener, hook and sewing eye (all frequently used, especially during lunch breaks or when clothes got snagged as they often did) there was a wire cutter to free sheep that sometimes became entangled in the barbed wire and two screwdrivers, occasionally used for emergency repairs of machinery, tweezers to pluck out splinters from fences or wasp stings (hearing his screams after he disturbed a wasps' nest one day, she had rushed to her brother Macca's rescue), a nail file to file down nails ruined by a day's hard yakka, even a ballpoint pen and scissors - and of course two shiny blades, the sharp main blade and a slightly smaller one. All of which could be snapped back into a distinctive red case with one simple touch of the spring mechanism and then packed neatly back into its leather pouch that also contained a small torch, magnifying lens, thermometer and compass! Small wonder Martha and the swiss army knife that had once belonged to her father were inseparable.
She never forgot the day she won it.
Ever since a slight stroke Marty McKenzie had been in semi retirement, his wife and two eldest, Chris and Tommo, helping him run the farm while the two youngest, Macca and Martha, did what they could inbetween school. But another stroke, this time much more severe, took a heavy toll. Marty was sadly left with a paralysis down the right side of his body and, as in addition to nursing her husband Donna McKenzie had recently undergone a hysterectomy herself, Chris and Tommo, who by now were in their early twenties, convinced them that they were well able to work the farm and that their parents should spend more time in the farmhouse dealing exclusively with the office administration. And Marty McKenzie suddenly found that the swiss army knife that he'd relied on around the farm for many years was no longer needed. Unlike in the midst of a field, things like can openers and scissors could of course be easily located indoors. The problem was, all of the McKenzies siblings vied to be its new owner and a heated argument broke out the sunny afternoon he rashly asked were there any takers.
Then Marty hit on the perfect solution.
McKenzie's Farm grew rows of organic lettuce, carrots, celery and strawberries, which sold extremely well in the shops and helped them break even with the constant financial demands of running their own business. However, weeds grew more freely without conventional pesticides to control them and digging them out with a hoe was clumsy and destroyed crops. Delicate hand weeding was often the only answer.
"Whoever can get the most weeds out of their patch in ten minutes wins the knife!" He announced, taking out the stop watch while Donna McKenzie, who was a keen photographer, fetched her digital camera ready to record another historical family event.
"You've no chance, Mac!" Macca predicted, grinning.
"He's right," Tommo agreed, ruffling his little sister's hair. "Physical stamina is what's needed and girls aren't strong enough. Never mind, I might lend you the knife occasionally."
Chris pulled a face. "As if you've a snowball in hell's chance, bro! I know for a fact you've been smoking the odd ciggie down the pub and you're up against me, just voted Hampton's footie player of the year!" He patted Martha's shoulder. "Don't worry, kiddo, I'll let you have a go of the knife sometimes if you're very, very careful with the sharp blades. Deal?"
Martha smiled sweetly. Would they never learn that she wasn't made of glass and chocolate? As soon as her brothers said she couldn't do something it made her all the more determined to prove them wrong.
"Go!" Marty McKenzie announced, setting the stop watch and all four set to work, beavering away furiously as the minutes ticked by.
"And the winner is...Martha!"
Martha immediately forgot her sore fingers and aching knees, threw her battered old sun hat into the air and, oblivious to the mud that splattered her, did a celebratory circular run, to her brothers' amusement and her later embarrassment as it was all recorded forever on the digi camera, the happy little family scene made all the more poignant when barely a year later their parents died in a tragic car accident.
Had Summer Bay High adopted the policy of many high schools around the world and conducted regular searches of its students the army knife would no doubt have long ago been confiscated as a dangerous weapon, for even though it was rarely used nowadays Martha still carried the swiss army knife in its leather pouch in her schoolbag, to remember her father by, just as she still carried her mother's small address book.
But Summer Bay High had no history of violence and nobody had ever felt it necessary to conduct searches. Everywhere Martha went the knife went with her. For no more than sentimental reasons, she had put both address book and the knife into her handbag tonight, never thinking for a second she'd use it for anything other than perhaps twisting the top off a bottle of coke with its bottle opener. She'd never really used the blades. She didn't even know how sharp they were. Though once on the farm she had cut herself accidentally and rich, red blood had poured profusely from her ripped skin, dripping down on to the grass like bright red summer rain. So they must be sharp enough. For the idea that had come into her mind and lodged there immovable.
"I'll be there," Martha said briskly in answer to the caller's directions, clicking shut the phone.
"Who was that?" Hayley demanded curiously.
"Jack," Martha replied shortly, her heart pounding, hoping they wouldn't see through her lie. "He wants me to go meet him."
"And you're going?" Hayley stared at her incredulously. "After all that's happened and all that I told you?"
Martha bit her lip. "Yeh, well maybe I'm sick of doing everything you reckon I should. From now on, I make up my own mind."
"Martha...?" Cassie's voice sounded shaky and she was shivering, looking at her friend with hurt and puzzlement in her big, scared eyes. Stricken with guilt at having to leave her, Martha squeezed her shoulder.
"It's okay, Cass," she said gently. "Everything will be okay, I promise. I'll be back as soon as I can."
She noticed Adam whisper something to Hayley and suddenly had a strong desire to slap him across his smug little face though she didn't know why.
Hayley caught hold of her arm. "You better not start blabbing about all this!"
"Hayles!" Martha was deeply wounded by the implication. "How can you even think that? You and Cass have asked me not to tell anyone so of course I won't. What do you take me for?"
"A cow," Hayley spat vindictively, her eyes cold as ice. "Go on then, go back to your precious Jack, he's obviously far more important than your friends!" She pushed Martha through the door, slamming it furiously behind her.
The last glimpse she had was of Cassie sitting on the bed in the fluffy white bathrobe, bare legs still curled around as though in some peculiar yoga position, head bowed, hair soaking, shoulders shaking, crying silently.
I'm doing the right thing, she tried to tell herself, hurrying down the hidden stairway that Adam had led her up earlier so that she could take the side exit and hopefully avoid anyone seeing her. Strangely, though she knew she should be, she wasn't afraid. Red hot blazing anger had burnt out any fear. Right at that moment, Mac didn't care if she ended up in prison or worse but she did care about her friends. As soon as they got far enough away from that police station, Kane Phillips, like Cass and Hayley, would know exactly what it was like to be permanently scarred.
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"Will didn't waste any time getting to know Dani Sutherland, did he?"
Kit was snuggled up to Noah, cosy, safe and warm. And feeling loved. Oh, God, so loved. Noah might have preferred the actual moment, but Kit preferred the slow build-up, the tender words whispered, the stroking and gentle kisses that grew more passionate, gazing into each other's eyes, knowing each cared so deeply about the other. And afterwards. Afterwards the comfort of lying side by side holding each other, her arms locked around Noah's shoulders, his arms locked around her waist. She had always enjoyed lovemaking, but it had never been as intense for her as it was for the guy. Though after tonight she was convinced Noah would be the one to change all that.
"Will didn't waste time with Dani, did he?" Kit repeated, when Noah's only response was to pull her closer and, heaven though it was to feel his strong arms around her and inhale his manly scent, Kit was still keen to discuss the party guests.
"Mmm." Noah's murmur tickled the crook of her shoulder, sending equal measures of warmth from his breath and cold from the tingling shivers at the magic of him being so close.
"You think Gyps is good with Jack? I thought they looked great together tonight."
"Mmm."
"Noah!" Kit giggled as his breath tickled her neck again. "I'm trying to have a conversation here."
"I don't want to talk about other people, Kit." Noah lifted his head from Kit's shoulder and sat up. "I want to talk about us."
"Us?" Kit's heart skipped a beat. A moment ago she had been so certain about their love. Despite all he'd told her tonight all the old doubts resurfaced. Was he going to tell her it had been wonderful, but they didn't have a future? All they had was a past, a common denominator, but now they didn't need the support and they would always remain friends. Her mind flashed back to how it all began.
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"This is Kit, everyone. Welcome to our little group, dear. Please take a seat and, dear, do feel free to talk as much or as little as you like." Esther Simmons, who was in her early sixties and wore a navy twin suit, neat white blouse and sensible lace-up shoes, fingered the silver medal of the Madonna around her neck and smiled down at her.
Kit self-consciously perched uncomfortably on the edge of the little wooden chair and kept her gaze firmly focused on her hands in her lap. Religion gave her the creeps, but it was worse than she'd imagined. On the far side of the draughty church hall above a tiny stage was a large, intimidating statue of Christ nailed to the cross and raising his eyes Heavenwards and on a nearby table several small statues of saints were herded haphazardly together as though animatedly discussing the possibility of the Second Coming although the abandoned duster gave a clue as to the real reason for their zealous gathering. A large noticeboard with home-made multi-coloured letters of varying sizes advertised "Yabbie Creek Catholic Primary Year 1" beneath which were children's sketches of Jesus (though, in truth, some of the figures could have been of anyone, from a floating Father Xmas decked in a long coat and minus the trademark hat to a bearded lady in a nightgown). Another table, sandwiched inbetween a stack of folded chairs and next to the tea urn, was crammed with hymn books, religious pamphlets, newly washed, still dripping wet cups and plates and a family size tin of biscuits, its lid decorated with a scenic picture of an old country church covered in snow and Victorian churchgoers swarming towards it.
From behind arched doors a church organ suddenly burst into its deep, introspective music and Kit, who had never been in a church in her life, not even for her father's funeral, was terrified that at any moment they were all going to jump up shouting Hallelujah and set about trying to convert her. She wanted a drink so badly. Not tea and biscuits, a proper drink. Her hands began to tremble like they often did since she'd been cold turkey. She clenched them together. She'd relax if she had a drink. Just one. That was all she needed. But she knew there was absolutely no chance of that. Drink was the reason they were all here.
There were eleven chairs arranged in a circle, ten occupied and one spare, which she assumed was for Esther, but it remained empty, Esther instead pulling up a chair behind the group and busying herself scribbling into a notebook. Listening to the murmur of voices, of people who already knew each other and were making small talk about the weather and their journeys, Kit nervously lifted her eyes and checked out the group of three women and six men. One of the men she had occasionally seen in her local park, sleeping on a bench or examining the contents of the garbage bin. Before she'd got so bad herself, she'd even laughed scornfully at the "smelly derro" like anybody at Summer Bay High who'd passed him by while taking the short cut through the park to school had done. Stevie, as he introduced himself, the smelly derro who'd stunk of BO and slept rough covered in a car blanket, turned out to be a former television correspondent who'd lost his house and family due to spiralling gambling debts and his alcohol addiction. He was gaunt but much cleaner since she'd last seen him and getting his life back together, he told her proudly, living in a hostel and selling The Big Issue.
She edged closer to the radiator, trying to make out like she was cold but in reality trying to edge her way out of the group. She didn't belong with them. The nearest in age was twenty years older, a woman in her mid thirties who was telling her how she'd turned to drink after being left alone with three small kids. Kit smiled politely, only half listening. She couldn't do this. She'd promised her family she would, but she had nothing in common with these people. She had just drawn breath to tell them sorry but she had to go when he arrived.
At first, aware he was studying psychology and planned a future career as a counsellor, she thought he'd come on some kind of training course and could have died with shame that he'd discovered her here. Of course she knew the rumours, started by Hayley, flew around the school about her being an alcoholic but she also knew no one at Summer Bay High really knew anything for certain. Until now.
Tall, blond, muscular, gorgeous, and the guy she'd had a massive crush on ever since she'd first seen him, but knew she had no chance with. After all, he was Hayley Smith's boyfriend and Hayley Smith was stunningly beautiful while Kit had been the only one in the Hunter family unlucky enough to inherit her father's homely features and not her mother's good looks. Nor did it help that her handsome older brother was a heartthrob or that her pretty younger sister had received four Valentines cards last Valentine's Day and already had boys ringing up for her. Kit had never had a boy give her a second glance let alone a Valentine card. In fact, the only card she'd ever received had been the anonymous one her Mum had sent because she felt sorry for her and which made Kit feel all the more angry and lonely.
"Hey, Kit," he said, sounding unsurprised to see her, shaking the rain off his coat. "Sorry I'm late, everyone. The bus broke down and that was one helluva walk." And then he slipped his leather jacket on the back of the empty chair and sat down. "I guess I should say my name's Noah Lawson and I'm an alcoholic. But you already know my name and we don't really go in for the admission thing here, not unless anybody wants to. What I AM proud to admit though is, I've been off the booze now for months. Haven't touched a drop since I came to Summer Bay." He met her eyes and smiled a smile that made her heart flip.
It was the beginning of a breathless, beautiful love.
He walked her home because it was still teeming with rain and the bus breakdown would mean a long delay and getting soaking wet waiting at the shelter-less bus-stop for the Summer Bay bus. He walked her home, his leather jacket covering both their heads, cheek to cheek, because Kit had left when the sun had still been blazing in a bright blue sky and had only brought with her a thin summer jacket. He walked her home because for both it felt so natural, so right.
They talked non stop, finding each other so easy to talk to.
He told her how he'd lately finished with Hayley. "There was never anything between us. I guess I was just flattered that someone like Hayley, the richest girl in the school, should be interested in me. She didn't know, nobody in Summer Bay High apart from Fisher does, that I was considered a total loser in my old school because of the drinking. They think I never drink because I don't like the taste. If only they knew! I was expelled from my last three schools for constantly getting wasted. I know exactly how hard it is to give up the booze, Kit. Heaps of times I've got mad at Hayley for bagging you out. It's a huge weight off my mind to be able to tell someone my secret at last."
"Me too," Kit said, finding it somehow endearing that he had referred to Hayley as the richest and not the most beautiful. She blew a sigh of relief that gently fluttered her fringe and flushed when Noah grinned, "You know, it's cute when you do that. I always watch you in Math and know when you've solved some tricky problem..."
"Watch me...?" Kit looked puzzled and it was Noah's turn to blush.
"Sheesh, I didn't mean to sound like some weirdo stalker! Kit, I haven't been able to take my eyes off you ever since I first saw you but you seemed way out of my league."
"Funny," Kit said, smiling, feeling as though she could talk to him about anything. "I always thought the same about you."
During their break for tea and biscuits, with the rain pattering away outside, he had told her quietly about how he'd become an alcoholic. "My Mum was obsessed with religion. Not as in just praying and stuff, it was heaps more than that. Things got really strange after Dad left but my brother and me, we were kids, we didn't understand she was mentally ill. We thought it was fun to move to an abandoned farm-house in the middle of nowhere, no phone, no gas or electric or running water." He smiled nostalgically. "And in some ways it was idyllic. We fetched water from the well, ate the veggies we grew in the garden, fish we caught from the stream, fruit that fell from the trees. But if other people came by Mum had me and Jude hide, she said they would taint us because the world was evil and we'd become evil too."
Noah sighed and looked somewhere faraway, making her long to throw her arms round him and tell him everything would be alright. After a while he pulled himself together and smoothed back his hair (a mannerism, Kit would come to notice and love, he often had when he was anxious). "We didn't know anything about school, a world outside our lives, we thought it was normal to be on our knees for hours each day enduring long prayer sessions. Jude tried to be serious but me, being youngest, I always played up. Then one day Mum really did her block when I began laughing. She said I was wicked and that she would have to pray for my soul. That night...that night..." his voice broke. "I woke to find dozens of candles round my bed and Mum, her eyes wild, ranting and raving something about me being possessed by demons and she had to get them out of me. I was six years old. I was terrified. " He paused again, overcome with emotion.
"What happened?" Kit asked gently. She'd already told him her own story, how she'd turned to alcohol after the death of her father because, due to her low self-esteem, she wrongly felt that her mother favoured her brothers and sister and didn't love her. It was good to be with someone who didn't judge her, who understood how easily drink could take hold.
Noah gave a small smile. "Jude happened. He ran to get help, across two fields, one of them with a couple of bulls roaming just at the other side of the ditch. He was only nine, it was a long, long way to the nearest town, but he didn't stop, not till he reached the road and could flag down a car. The fire engine got to us just in time. By then one of the candles had been knocked over and set light to the bedding, to Mum's hair and clothes. I don't remember much after that, just my screaming and a terrible burning pain down my arm. I blacked out and woke up in hospital. Mum was badly burned and never recovered. It was how they found us, how they found we lived there. We were taken into care. I had nightmares about that night for years afterwards. It was how I began drinking."
"My problems were insignificant compared to yours," Kit murmured guiltily. "I just felt sorry for myself."
"Hey, don't put yourself down!" Noah protested. "I want you to promise you'll never put yourself down again, Kit Hunter."
"I promise," Kit said, her lips twitching into a smile, and thinking with Noah it would be easy to never put herself down again.
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But suddenly their beautiful, breathless love was about to tumble into nothingness and she'd be lonely, unloved Kit again. They said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But it wasn't. She'd never get over the pain of this broken heart.
"Us as in you and me," Noah said, smoothing back his hair.
"Sounds serious." Kit tried hard to sound jokey, a lump in her throat.
He lifted his head and met her eyes. "How do you feel about getting engaged?"
"What?" Kit could only stare at him in amazement.
"I'm not that bad! Am I?"
She was touched by the genuine anxiety in his voice.
"I love you so much, Kit," Noah added. "I'd be stoked if you said yes."
"Yes!" She said, tears of happiness dimming her eyes as she threw her arms round him. "Yes, yes, yes!"
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The lights of the police station were blazing brightly. Martha had already transferred the knife from her handbag and into her trousers pocket. She took a deep breath before running determinedly up the steps.
"My name's Martha McKenzie," she announced to the desk sergeant. "I'm here to see Kane Phillips."
This was it. No going back now.