Page 32 of Lawless
Natty.
I checked the time. It was almost nine, which was about when Natty usually started his show—early to bed, and early to rise, I guess. I went and washed my plate in the kitchen sink, and then locked the front door of the station. Then I climbed the stairs to my house, and went into the bedroom. Frank followed me up the stairs, but she liked to sleep in the front room that was now my living area. It had probably been the main bedroom when Short Clarry had lived here. I left my door ajar for her anyway.
My bedroom was dark. I crossed to the window and pushed it open, letting in the cool breeze from outside. It was sharp at the edges; not cold enough to make me shiver, but with just enough of a bite in it to grab my spare blanket and shake it out over the bed.
There was a light on downstairs at Natty’s house.
I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled off my uniform shirt, then leaned down and unlaced my boots. The air was cool on my shoulders, making my skin prickle. It wasn’t just the breeze though—it was the anticipation. However stupidly confused my brain was about this whole situation—we really, really needed to talk about it—my body was onboard. I slept like the dead after wanking to Natty’s little shows.
My socks and pants followed my boots onto the floor, and then I sat looking out the window, breathing in the salt air and listening to the distant sounds of the small waves crashing endlessly up against the harbour wall. It was so dark here, a deeper darkness than I’d ever known in Sydney—but it was peaceful, not unsettling. Weird Dauntless Island with its centuries-old cottages and its bloody history should have been teeming with angry ghosts—if you believed that sort of thing—but the darkness here was deep and soothing. It would be very easy to fall in love with Dauntless Island.
Well, maybe if the islanders weren’t so bloody mean.
I watched Natty’s dark window for a while longer, waiting for the flick of his lights to signal he was starting. But they didn’t come, and eventually I climbed under my covers and closed my eyes.
Yeah, we really needed to talk.
Chapter 10
NATTY
The water was black and cold as Button John and I slipped into it. I turned and looked back towards Dauntless—the shoreline at Mayfair Bay was so far away that the light on in Young Harry Barnes’s house was barely a faint smudge. The coal on the end of his cigarette was a beacon though, wobbling in the darkness nearby as he muttered something about the tinnie’s anchor line.
“Does Will know you’re out?” Button John asked as we cut lazily through the water.
“If he checks my room, I’ll say I was at your house.”
“You’re wearing your cranky face,” Button John said, even though it was so dark there was no way he could tell. He just knew me better than anyone.
I was cranky. Partly because Nipper Will had yelled at me over Mum wandering off earlier, even though she’d only made it as far as Dominic’s yard and she’d been fine, but mostly because I’d had to cancel some pretty important plans to come out here tonight with Young Harry and Button John. But it wasn’t like I could tell Button John that.
Actually, I’d rather be at home wanking for the copper over the back.
Yeah, nah.
If anything, tonight was exactly the reminder I needed that getting close to Dominic was a really dumb idea.
The yacht was anchored about thirty metres away from the tinnie, so it was an easy swim. It was a dark night too, with no moon, so it was perfect. Young Harry had a thing about getting too close to the yachts ever since one had crashed into the tinnie a few years back, so me and Button John made the swim for him instead. It wasn’t a big deal; both of us had been swimming since the time we could walk.
The yacht was silhouetted faintly against the dark sky. There was a glow on deck; a torch, with the beam pointed away from us. Button John whistled as we got closer, and the torchlight bounced on the water for a while until it found us. The shape of a man loomed over the rail.
“Watch the light, mate,” Button John said, holding up a hand to protect his eyes. “You’re not spotting possums.”
The guy said something in French. Button John took it as an invitation, because he grabbed the ladder at the side of the yacht and began to climb it. I held onto the bottom rungs and waited for him.
The guy had two big packages, both plastic-wrapped and taped up securely. Button John shoved one down towards me, and jammed the other one under his arm. I pushed away from the yacht, giving Button John room to do the same once he got to the bottom of the ladder. The package didn’t weigh much.
“Nice doing business with ya!” Button John waved at the guy.
The guy said something in French again and laughed.
We made our way back to the tinnie, swimming on our backs like otters clutching pebbles. There were a few stars visible behind the shroud of clouds that blanketed the sky. It was peaceful, half swimming, half drifting like this. Felt like we could float all the way around the world if we just let the current take us.
“Good work,” Young Harry said, taking the packages before helping us aboard the tinnie. “There’s towels under the seat. Come on. Sit your arses down so we can get home.”
The putter of the tinnie’s motor accompanied us back to the beach at Mayfair Bay.
Young Harry Barnes ran the tinnie up to the shore, and me and Button John grabbed the packages and headed for the entrance to the cave. It was low tide, which was the easiest time to get into the caves—when it was a high tide, and on the turn, you really had to fight the waves. Tonight it was easy and, even though it was as black as pitch inside, we knew our way. The rocks were slippery underfoot, so we took it slowly in the darkness, dragging our fingertips along the wall beside us as we followed the track upwards.
