Strange Sally Diamond(74)

‘Thank you very much,’ I said.

He seemed surprised and, as tears began to fall down my cheeks, he held me by the shoulder. ‘Are you okay, sonny? Did something happen?’ My hand tingled from the touch, but there was no burning, no discolouration, just the warm impression that was left behind by this man’s hand. I wanted to bury my head in this stranger’s shoulder but I turned and left the shop.

I drove back to Rotorua, my anger surging as I accelerated. I arrived in town just as it was time to collect Dad from the dental office.

He waved from the window and came out, locking the door behind him. He sat in the passenger seat and threw his briefcase into the back. I took off before he had fastened his seat belt.

‘What’s the rush?’ he said.

‘Tell me again about necrotic hominoid contagion,’ I said, trying to keep the ice out of my voice.

‘Funny you should mention that. I rang an immunologist in Melbourne today to see if there were any updates. I’m afraid there’s no treatment on the horizon, but I suppose you’re used to it now, Steve.’

‘Yeah? What was the immunologist’s name? I might want to talk to him myself.’

‘I think it’s best if you leave the medical end of things to me.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Dr Sean Kelly.’

‘An Irish name. Interesting. And what hospital does he work in?’

‘St Charles.’

‘Right. And is that a general hospital or one that specializes in immune diseases?’

He stroked his beard, and as I glanced at him, I saw he looked me straight in the eye. ‘It’s a specialist hospital. All the funding now is going into the research of this new gay disease, AIDS.’

There was no hesitation at all, but then Dad was an expert at lying.

‘And exactly when was I diagnosed? I mean, if I was born in that annexe, how did you know I had it?’

‘Has that little bitch –’

I took my eyes off the road and stared at him. ‘Don’t call her that.’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Steve, you can’t believe anything Lindy Weston says to you. She’s one of them.’

‘I don’t have any disease, you lied to me about that as well.’

‘Well, if you want to take the risk –’

‘What about Rangi? I was three feet away from him. I could have easily pulled him back to shore, but to save myself, I let him drown.’

‘He was a half-breed and a bad influence. He had you drinking beer at your –’

‘He was smart and kind. He was my friend!’ I couldn’t help shouting.

‘Watch the road!’

We had veered off the back road that led up to our house on a slow-rising hill. I tried to correct the steering, but I overdid it and we were on the other side of the road, headed for a steep drop. I panicked and hit the accelerator pedal instead of the brake. The engine screamed for what seemed like a full minute and then we hit fresh air. I’ll never forget the noise as we rolled over and over. Later, the police said that we’d only dropped fifteen feet, but it felt like rolling down a vertical cliff, hitting every boulder on the way, my head ricocheting between the roof of the car and the windscreen until the glass smashed.

I had never heard Dad scream before. What a strange sound. I opened my mouth but, like in a nightmare, no sound came out. Blood filled my vision and I could hear the loud twisting of metal and the cracking of bones as we fell until we stopped. The car was upside down. I wiped the blood from my eyes with my shaking hands. My door had been torn off. Dad’s door was wedged against the earth, mud tumbling through the shattered windscreen on top of us. I unbuckled the seat belt that was tangled around my knees and fell on to the ceiling of the car before hauling myself out. When I tried to stand up and orientate myself, I felt a searing pain through my right ankle. I looked back at Dad. He was still screaming. His shirt was stained with blood. The car had crumpled around him and it looked like he was crushed against the door. The way he was positioned, he couldn’t reach it. His right arm was mangled and broken. The smell of petrol filled my nostrils and I noticed a plume of flame in the undergrowth at the rear of the car.

‘It’s on fire,’ I said, my voice trembling.

Dad lunged towards me. ‘Get me out!’ His head was pinned sideways to the roof of the car. It would have been easy for me to release him from the seat belt. I’m sure there would have been time. I could have pulled him out. But, instead, I scrambled up the incline with my elbows, dragging my useless foot, grunting with pain. Dad was screaming again, begging, ‘Don’t leave me here! Peter! Please!’ and then in fury, ‘I am your father. Get me out!’ I heard the flames taking hold as I edged my way up the embankment. I heard my father’s screams. I didn’t look back.

I woke up on a stretcher at the side of the road in the dark as the ambulanceman lifted my right foot. Another one held my head with his bare hands. The shock was intense, but I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he was touching me or the pain in my ankle. My shirt and jacket lay in ribbons on the grass verge. My trousers had been cut open. I didn’t dare to look down at my foot. The ambulancemen talked to me in soft and sorrowful voices. ‘What’s your name, kiddo?’

What was my name? I felt exhausted, too tired to talk. One of the men said, ‘I think he’ll be okay. Not coughing blood or clutching his stomach, so probably no internals. You think that was his dad?’