Kendra. Jane Keehn

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ over the hull. Her face framed by carved braids of yellow hair loomed up on the screen and Emily imagined her grandmother as a girl - her arms clutched around the wooden neck, her legs grasping for balance and control around the mermaid waist.

      Much had been written about it in the local history books and in the Maritime Centre’s exhibition catalogues about Meg’s amazing survival but she hadn’t been the only one to survive the wreckage. Others were washed ashore and made the Bay of Mandalay their home.

      Meg’s story captured the imagination because she was the youngest to survive the coal ship’s destruction on the reef and because the image of a six-year-old girl gripping on to the wooden mermaid was one out of a fairy story. Emily’s favourite part was her grandmother telling her.

       - I just refused to let go and before I knew it, I was face down in the sand, but I was alive!

      Distracted by a blue light in the bottom right corner of the screen, Emily frowned and clicked the mouse.

      A Skype alert flashed on her laptop screen. It was Melanie from the Museum’s education team. Her heart raced a little faster as Emily clicked the key board in response to Melanie’s call.

       - Stop work and get something to eat?

      Emily sighed as she typed her answer.

       - Would love to, but your husband might not approve!

      Emily blew a small exasperated breath through her lips then pressed them together in a disappointed smile.

      Melanie’s quick response popped up.

       - He’s away diving for abalone – you could come to my place – I’ll cook?

      Emily’s ink-stained fingers moved quickly over the keyboard.

       - Really, would love to, but sorry, I’ve got a couple of friends here for dinner.

      She grabbed at her diving watch on the desk - it was too chunky on her wrist, it scratched at the scroll pad. It read close to eight o‘clock on its large white digits.

      She signed off to Melanie, saved her file, closed the screen and clamped the laptop shut like a large white, flat clam shell.

      From the small kitchen table, she grabbed a compact canister of fish food and sprinkled a hefty pinch into an aquarium where two ordinary looking goldfish lazily followed each other around.

      Walking to the front balcony overlooking the ocean front, she brushed the remnants of the fish pellets onto her jeans, and placed her hands on the balcony’s rail, gazing far out at the horizon, swaying slightly as she focused away from her life.

      The waves below swept up onto the sand carrying with them unseen and unknown objects carried and lost in the current.

      After her grandmother died, the softly crashing sound was the only thing that could lull her to a safe sleep - the waves crashing. And once in a while Melanie’s soft, secret, kisses on Emily’s skin.

      The smudged lights of the funfair blinked on the Esplanade.

      If she squinted her eyes to focus through the sea spray Emily could make out the twinkling lights framing an old circus caravan flashing human skulls and flowers and a girl she knew briefly last year.

       - Come on Leo – we’re going out for a walk.

      She grabbed Leo’s lead and bounded out the door before he could get used to the idea.

      Catching up to her, they ran down the beach road into the township towards the bright lights.

      Kendra - Chapter 5

      Pink fairy floss on sticks hid people’s faces from Kendra as she unpacked her tackle box.

      Small angular shells and sea urchins strung onto fishing wire clanking into bits of glass, that had softened from crashing waves hung from broken twigs and driftwood.

      She removed other found-objects from the box that were cleverly tied into earrings and necklaces. Kendra hung them from a low hanging tree branch then untied her display of sea shells and metal objects on a shawl over the ground.

      Her grey opal eyes flashed towards people walking past but hesitated at eye-contact. She hung her sea urchin wind chimes so that they made delicate music in the breeze and draped pairs of shelled hook and sinker earrings over a black fabric backdrop.

      Her own ears showed off a pair with broken Heart Cockle shells. Around her neck was a heavy gold chain with a scrimshaw tooth – the one thing she hadn’t made herself; someone in her tribe had made it and her mothers had passed it down to her.

      Leaning against a small limestone retaining wall she propped her crutches against the garden rocks. A clink of coins turned people's heads as she scraped the small change from her tackle box into the pocket of her jeans.

      Her black t-shirt had a cartoon video game character on its front and hung loosely over her hips. Kendra shuffled her old boots against each other hoping that no one would notice they were two slightly different designs and mismatched sizes...one found on a rubbish pile under the jetty at Meg's Cove, the other on the road leading to Green Wood - forgotten, lost, not missed by their old owners.

      Three teenagers sidled up to look at the trinkets on the shawl.

       - How much are those earrings?

      One of them, wearing black denim pointed to the smallest pair on Kendra's display.

       - Usually ten dollars but you can have those for five tonight.

      Her friend in a ruffled cotton tube top giggled while the trio looked through their combined spending money for the night.

       - Sure. Here you are.

      She handed over some gold coins.

      Kendra watched them laugh as they skipped away, pleased with their unusual purchase. She clutched the coins before locking them in a compartment in the tackle box.

      Her eyes scanned the pathways along the stalls and tables. She quickly sold a wind chime to a grey haired woman just before two blokes in yellow polo shirts began visiting each stall.

      It was market security checking for permits, so she folded up her cloth, carrying her art works and jewellery like a sack and quickly ripped the wind chime from the branch.

      Dangling from one hand, the tackle box clanked against the crutches Kendra shuffled into the holiday crowd to avoid any confrontation. Kendra dragged her feet through the sandy embankment, prodding her crutches sinking into the earth as she made her way to the esplanade’s car park. Walking by the food stalls, a deep-fried smoke from battered sausages on sticks stung her eyes and she wondered why anyone would want to eat something called a Dagwood Dog.

      She followed the footpath trail away from the vendor’s generators catching her boots on some broken glass. Her orange plastic tackle box banged against her crutches’ poles, scattering a handful of seagulls as they swooped for a skerrick of discarded food. Dodging children with ice-creams Kendra found an empty faded bus СКАЧАТЬ