The tides of her father’s moods turned, as did the seasons. After her father burst Toby’s ear drums, Alice busied herself teaching him sign language. She turned eight, advanced to Grade Three in home schooling, and read her pile of library books two weeks before they were due back. Her mother spent more and more time in the garden, mumbling to herself among her flowers.
One late winter’s day a set of squalls blew in from the sea, so ferocious Alice wondered if they’d blow the house down like something from a fable. She and Toby watched from the front step as Clem dragged his windsurfer out of the garage and into the yard.
‘It’s a forty-knot northwesterly, Bunny,’ he said, hurrying to load his gear into the back of his truck. ‘This is rare.’ He brushed the cobwebs off the windsurfer sail. Alice nodded, rubbing Toby’s ears. She knew it was; she’d only seen her father ready himself to ride the wind across the sea a handful of times. She’d never been allowed to go with him. He started the engine.
‘C’mon then, Bunny. Reckon I need a good luck charm on today’s voyage. Hurry up,’ he called, leaning out of the driver’s window. Although the wild look in his eye made her uneasy, the disbelieving joy of being invited threw Alice into action. She ran into her bedroom to change into her togs and bolted past her mother, calling goodbye, Toby close behind. With a roaring rev of the engine, her father spun out of the driveway towards the bay.
Down at the beach, Alice’s father strapped himself into his harness and dragged the board to the water’s edge. Alice stood by. When her father called her she followed the deep groove the fin of his board had cut in the sand, all the way to the sea. He pushed his board into the waves, steadying the sail against the wind. The veins in his forearms popped from the effort. Alice stood thigh-high in the salt water, uncertain of what to expect. Her father readied himself to leap on the board then turned to her, his brows raised and his smile reckless. Alice’s heartbeat knocked in her ears. He nodded his head towards the board. Toby paced on the shore, barking incessantly. She raised her arm and held her flat palm up to speak to him: Be calm. Her father had never asked her along before. She didn’t dare refuse the invitation.
As she sprang through the sea towards her father, her mother’s voice reached her. Alice turned to see her standing on top of the dunes, calling her name and waving her arms frantically, gripping Alice’s fluorescent-orange life vest in one hand. Her calls rose from measured to alarmed. Toby raced away from the shore to meet her. In the water, Alice’s father swatted her mother’s worry away like it was an insect buzzing around his face.
‘You don’t need a life vest. Not when you’re eight. I was king of my kingdom when I was eight.’ He nodded at her. ‘Hop on, Bunting.’
Alice beamed. His attention was hypnotic.
He lifted her onto his board, his hands firm and strong under her armpits, and positioned her at the front, where she leant into the wind. He lay belly down and paddled the two of them through the water. Silver fish darted through the shallows. The wind was strong and sea salt stung Alice’s eyes. She turned back once to see her mother on shore, dwarfed by the expanse of sea between them.
Out in the turquoise depths her father leapt from his belly to his feet, and slid his toes into the straps. Alice clutched the edges, her palms scraping on the board grip. Her father heaved the sail upright, using his legs to keep his balance. Sinew and muscle rippled beneath the skin of his calves.
‘Sit between my feet,’ he instructed. She inched along the board towards him. ‘Hold on,’ he said. She wrapped her arms around his legs.
For a moment, there was a lull; the world was still and aquamarine. Then, whoosh, the wind filled the sail and salt water sprayed Alice’s face. The sea sparkled. They sailed through the waves, zigzagging across the bay. Alice leant her head back and closed her eyes; the sun warm on her skin, the sea spray tickling her face, the wind running its fingers through her long hair.
‘Alice, look,’ her father called. A pod of dolphins arced alongside them. Alice cried out in delight, remembering her selkie book. ‘Stand up so you can see them better,’ he said. Holding on to his legs, Alice wobbled as she stood, mesmerised by the beauty of the dolphins. They glided through the water, peaceful and free. She tentatively let go of her father and used her own weight to balance. Holding her arms out wide, she moved her waist in circles and rolled her wrists, mimicking the dolphins. Her father howled joyously into the wind. Seeing true happiness in his face made Alice light-headed.
Out beyond the bay they flew, into the channel where a tourist boat was circling back towards the town harbour. A camera flash bulb popped in their direction. Her father waved.
‘Do the hula again for them,’ Alice’s father encouraged her. ‘They’re watching us, Alice. Do it. Now.’
Alice didn’t understand what hula meant; was it her dolphin dance? The urgency in his voice also confused her. She glanced at the front of the board and back up at him. This moment of hesitation was her mistake; she caught the shadow as it crossed his face. Scrambling to the board’s tip she tried to make up the time she’d lost and stood on shaky legs, looping her waist and rolling her wrists. It was too late. The boat turned away from them; the camera flashes glinted off the water in the opposite direction. Alice smiled hopefully. Her knees trembled. She snuck a look at her father. His jaw was set.
When he flipped the sail around and they changed direction, Alice almost lost her balance. The sun was garish and sharp, biting at her skin. She crouched on the board and clung to its sides. Her mother’s voice carried on the wind, calling them relentlessly as they crossed the channel back towards the bay. The waves rolled deep and dark green. Her father said nothing. She sidled towards him. As she nestled herself between his feet again and clung to his calves, she felt a muscle twitch under his skin. She looked up but his face was blank. Alice bit back on tears. She’d ruined it. She tightened her grip on his legs.
‘Sorry, Papa,’ she said in a small voice.
The pressure on her back was firm and quick. She pitched forward into the cold sea, crying out as she was engulfed by waves. Spluttering to the surface, she shrieked and coughed, trying to hack up the burning sensation of salt water in her lungs. Kicking hard, she held her arms up the way her mother taught her to do if she ever got caught in a rip. Not too far away, her father coasted on the board, staring at her, his face as white as the caps on the waves. Alice kicked to tread water. With a quick flick her father spun the sail again. He’s coming back. Alice whimpered, relieved. But as his sail caught the wind and he sailed away from her, she stopped kicking in disbelief. She started to sink. When the water covered her nose, Alice flailed her arms and kicked hard, fighting her way upwards through the waves.
Tossed up and down at the whim of the current, Alice glimpsed her mother over the waves. She’d flung herself into the ocean and was swimming hard. The sight of Agnes gave Alice a surge of strength. She kicked and paddled until she felt the slightest shift in the temperature of the water and knew she was approaching the shallows. Her mother reached her in a flurry of splashing and clung to her like Alice herself was a life vest. When they could both touch sand, sure and solid beneath their feet, Alice stood and vomited bile, her retching a croaking, empty sound. Her arms and legs gave out. She gasped for breath. Her mother’s eyes were as dull as a piece of sea glass. She carried Alice to shore and wrapped her in the dress she’d discarded before leaping into the waves. She rocked them both back and forth until Alice stopped crying. Hoarse from barking, Toby whined while he licked Alice’s face. She patted him weakly. When she started to shiver Alice’s mother picked her up and carried her home. She didn’t say a thing.