“Amazing if I can get it out,” she said as she tried to manipulate the penknife down her pant leg.
Tom’s senses heightened. Here was a plan B in the making. He looked through the cracks in the timbers. It was dark. Presumably the O’Neills would debate what to do overnight and in the morning they’d probably be more rational. But why take that risk? If they could cut through their bonds, it wouldn’t be difficult to dig under the dirt at the back of the hut. It was, what, two miles across country to the ferry? If the boat was still there and he could get its diesel engine working, they’d be across the little strait to the mainland in fifteen minutes. They were in a semi-enclosed bay—surely the currents were bound to take them ashore. If he couldn’t get the diesel engine working, they could maybe launch it anyway and drift over on the tide.
Heather had now maneuvered the penknife down her leg and out the bottom of her jeans. She grabbed it in her tied hands and opened the blade. It was a tiny little thing.
“Is it sharp?” Tom asked.
“Yes,” Heather said, testing it with her thumb. “Shall I try to throw it to you?”
“No! Don’t do that. It might land in the middle between us, and then where would we be? Cut yourself free first and then bring it over,” Tom said in a loud whisper.
Heather began sawing at the binds on her hands.
“Is it working?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know. I think so, yes,” Heather said.
“I can’t breathe, Dad,” Olivia complained.
“I’m sorry, honey. Try to put a finger between the ropes and your neck,” Tom said.
“OK,” Olivia replied, as if this were somehow a normal question and answer.
“What’ll we do if we can cut the ropes?” Owen asked.
“We’ll get ourselves free and then dig under the planks at the back of the shed. We’ll make a run for it into the undergrowth. The ferry dock is only two miles away across country. We can easily get there,” Tom said.
“And then what?” Owen asked.
“We’ll take it to the other side.”
“What if the ferry is tied up on the other side of the channel?” Owen said.
Tom winced. He hadn’t thought of that. “We’ll hide out on the island.”
“They’ll find us,” Olivia whimpered.
Tom shook his head. “No, they won’t find us.”
Tom could see that Heather had the penknife between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. The rope was very thick hemp and she looked so awkward trying to cut it. “Is it definitely working?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said.
“Good, keep at it.”
“Can you really do this, Tom?” Heather asked him. “Hide us from them?”
“Of course I can,” he assured her.
Owen was getting excited now. “We could get rabbits. We could make spears and hunt them.”
“Don’t be dumb, Owen,” Olivia said.
“Did you tell anyone about us coming here?” Heather asked.
“No, but the GPS on our phones was working all the way through most of the peninsula, so the police will be able to track our movements and figure out where we went.”
“They won’t know we’ve come over here, though. The GPS wasn’t working on the ferry,” Heather said.
Tom didn’t need her negativity now and she had that young person’s thing of saying everything that came into her head. “Honey!” he said with mild reproach. “The police will figure it out, won’t they?”
Heather picked up on his signals. “Yes, yes, you’re right, of course. The cops will be looking for us by now and they’ll get us tomorrow.”
Tom nodded. If they stayed calm, looked around them, tried to be present, it would be OK.
“That’s right. All three of you have to trust—”
Voices, people moving toward them…
“Shit, they’re coming back, hide the knife in the dirt,” Tom said.
Heather fumbled the penknife into the floor as best she could just as the shed door opened.
“We need to talk to both of you again,” Matt said.
“We need water for the children,” Tom said.
“I’ll get you water. We decided we’d better talk to you and your wife before Danny gets here,” Matt said and began undoing the rope that tied Heather’s neck to the timber frame. Tom had an anxious moment as Matt looked at the floor near where Heather was sitting, but he didn’t see the penknife. Matt undid the rope around Tom’s neck and pulled them both to their feet.
“This is utterly disgraceful. You should be ashamed of yourself. You can’t keep us like this. These are little kids! What are you thinking?” Heather said to Matt.
Even in the gloomy light of the hut, Tom could see that Matt was embarrassed.
“Look, yeah, I’m sorry about all this. But I did bloody tell you not to come here,” Matt said.
“If you insist on keeping me and Tom so we can sort out some form of compensation, then so be it,” Heather said. “But you need to take the children to the mainland on the ferry.”
Tom gave her an I’ve got this look. He wanted to deescalate the situation. Heather was getting herself worked up. There was no way Ma would ever allow such a thing. “No, we don’t need you to do that. But our kids need water,” Tom said.
“I’ll bring them water. Come on,” he said. “Danny’s on the ferry. He’s nearly here.”
“I’m not leaving these children in here by themselves,” Heather said.
“I give you my word nothing’s going to happen to them. Trust me,” Matt said. He said it so sincerely that Tom believed him, and Heather found herself nodding.
“Come on, Heather,” Tom said. “Let’s be calm and we’ll go fix this.”
Kate was waiting outside the shearing shed with her shotgun. “She’s in the farmyard,” she said to Matt. “We brought Ma’s chair out.”
They trudged between the farm buildings and odd bits of machinery that resembled sinister modern-art installations.
They reached the farmyard, where the Porsche was still parked, and Tom noticed the Dutch couple’s camper van. Where were they in all this?
Ma was sitting in her rocking chair with about fifteen or twenty people gathered around her in the twilight. The flies had not dispersed when the sun set, and there was a smell of decaying kelp blowing in from the sea. Most of the adults were armed, Tom noted. Heather had better not try anything foolish.
“Danny’s coming. We better settle this now,” Ma said. “You two stand in front of me. We’re gonna sort this out like grown-ups. Fair dinkum and shake on it. Agreed?”
Tom nodded. “Of course. Once again, I am so sorry about Ellen. I apologize profusely on behalf of myself and my family.”
“Good,” Ma said. “You’ll have to apologize to Danny too. Make it a real bloody good one. He loved that girl.”
“I will. Yes. And, look, before Danny gets here, maybe we could come to an arrangement and present it to him as a fait accompli,” Tom suggested. “A fait accompli is a—”