A Perfect Day

Greg’s parents were always very measured in their response to his occasional indiscretions at school – quite uncharacteristic of their Italian heritage, really – but as they explained, “His problem in school is his problem, not mine.” This meant that that Greg was generally not rescued from the consequences of his indiscretions because Alfeo and Eula were simply fair minded enough to understand that he need not be punished twice for that indiscretion.

Day two of his suspension looked too good to be true – weather was great, and with some kids on holiday already … but it was not to be. “We never really had time to clean out the shed when spring began, mate. I think that can be your work today. Do I need to make a list?”

“Dad, that’ll take me for ages to do.”

“Look, mate, you can spend three days doing it for all I care, but this time off school is not a holiday. While you live under my roof, you pull your weight.”

As he said this, the espresso pot hissed to a finish, and Alfeo poured out his favourite thick, black heart starter to be sipped with some Hazelnut Cinnamon Rolls that Eula had made and were left over from yesterday’s shop. He loved the contrast of the strong and bitter coffee with the sweet, sugary roll.

Eula had already left so that she could get the produce for the day from the Markets. Alfeo rubbed Greg’s hair in a gesture of affection. “You get that work done, mate, and we’ll see about something special for the weekend.”

As he clattered his keys, Nadia called out “Can you give me a lift to school, Papa?”

“What’s wrong with the bus?”

“It takes for ages to get there, Papa, and I have stuff to do.”

“I’m ready to go right now, Caro. Are you ready?”

“Can I brush my teeth?”

“Waiting! Waiting! Waiting!”

Once Alfeo and Nadia had gone, Greg decided he would veg for a little bit so that he could wake up properly before he started work. He could do some stuff on Facebook while he drank his coffee slowly.

It was about 10.30am when Greg “woke up” with the sudden realisation that the morning was half gone. He went down to the shed. He thought he would do what he had seen his dad do a thousand times – make a list of the jobs on the chalk-board near the door and cross them off as he did them. So he started making the list:

1. Make neat stack of stakes

2. Fold up produce bags and boxes and put them away

3. Tidy up tools

4. Clear benches

5. Tidy up compost and manure bins

6. Sweep floors and paths

That should keep him going for a while, he thought. They were all jobs his dad had given him to do before. He knew the routines. Maybe he could finish early and get some gaming in anyway.

He worked solidly on the list till nearly 1pm when he decided he should have some lunch. On the weekend his Mum would often make up a stack of Arancini di Riso balls and stow them in the fridge. These golden balls of pure carb were great. A stack in a bowl with lashings of tomato sauce, a can of Coke on the side and he was eating like a king.

Meanwhile, just after the going to work crowd had dissolved into their workplaces, the phone at La Trattoria rang. Eula took the call, which was from the Principal of St Joseph’s College, Mother Superior.

“Is that Mrs De Luca?”

“Yes it is. How can I help you?”

“It’s Mother Superior here, from St Joseph’s College, and I think there are things we need to talk together about since Gregorio was suspended from school. But I know you are both busy at the shop, and I couldn’t think how we might manage that.”

“Thank you, Mother. You are kind to think of our needs. It would be good to hear your perspective on what happened. We usually have a pretty quiet spell just after the lunch crowd finishes. We could talk after 2pm. We have staff who can manage the shop. Do you want us to come to school, or could we meet elsewhere?”

“Actually, it might be nice to meet elsewhere. If you don’t mind the coffee at The Blue Lagoon we could meet there and still be rather private.”

“Certainly, Mother, that would be fine. Shall we meet there at 2.15?”

Eula was immediately curious about how Mother Superior had handled that. Usually, important school business was dealt with in her office at school. That is the proper and professional thing to do, yet here she was asking them to meet and talk together about Gregorio in a café. She wandered out to the Kitchen and told Alfeo about the call. He, too, was surprised and curious about this tactic from Mother Superior.

When Greg had finished his lunch, he thought a few minutes gaming wouldn’t hurt. This suspension business wasn’t too bad really. It was great being in charge of your own time. Before long he was waging battle with one of his mates who had also been suspended via the internet. This was a favourite pastime and was much more fun than Facebook and the like.

At about 2.30pm his mate rang and said that the surf was up on West Beach and he was going over there to check it out. “I’ve gotta work here,” said Greg. “My dad will make minced meat of me if I haven’t got enough done to show for it.”

“But mate, you’ve got the whole week to do that. How much have you done already?”

“I got a couple of hours done before lunch.”

“That’ll be enough. Let’s go. We can be there in half an hour.”

“Well, if I come I’ve gotta be back here by 4 so that I can do a bit more before me dad comes home.”

Greg grabbed his boogie bag, headed for his bike in the shed and then pedalled over to Dean Ballie’s place and together they pedalled to West Beach. Dean was right – well almost, because it took actually a little less than half an hour to get there.

West Beach was a sweeping curve of pristine white sand on the east side of a 3 mile wide bay. The white sand backed up onto some limestone cliffs and sand-dunes that were quite uncharacteristic of the southern coast. Just a few miles further east and west of this bay the rocky outcrops were all formed by granite of a colour and texture that was much in demand for high-quality, high value-add stone work for kitchens and fine ornamentation. The quarries were actually pretty small scale operations but they did attract the ire of the local ferals, led by Springtime Kestrel, who raise the bally who every now and then just to remind the business that they were actually there under some sufferance. But Bluestone Granite just kept on quietly doing their business.

When Greg and Dean arrived at the parking area, it was obvious that lots of others thought it was a good day to be there as well. They raced each other to the beach and found a dozen grommets on boogie boards, as well as some dudes and chicks on boards pumping on some great shore breaks.

The early heat meant that the Easterly wind had kept up longer into the afternoon than normal so an off-shore was keeping the breaks up and powerful. Greg and Dean pulled their black wetsuits on and joined the other boogie-boarders, looking for all the world like a bunch of playful seals surfing in the waves.

They had barely warmed up when one of the dudes yelled out “Shark!”

Everyone who heard it froze and looked in his direction. The area was known for its large white-pointers. Scanning the surface of the water looking for the fin, Greg caught sight of it just as it surfaced near one of his boogie-boarding group. He was only a little kid and as the shark crunched his jaw around his thigh everything in Greg’s view seemed to go into slow motion. The shark was moving so quickly that he lifted the boy out of the water. The boy was instinctively thrashing his fists at the shark’s head, trying to hit his nose or poke his eye, thus stunning him into releasing him.

Torn between the instincts to flee and to rescue, Greg held back for a moment while most of the others paddled like the blazes towards shore. The boy’s thrashing eventually produced the desired result and the shark fled off away. Greg and two of the other boogie boarders powered in to where he was and the grabbed hold of him to keep his head above the waves. Three of the surfers came in with their boards and between them all they lifted him onto a board and they all paddled him in to shore as quickly as they could.

They were just landing him when they heard the distant sound of sirens. Those that had gotten ashore straight off had phoned on mobiles to ambos and police and help would be at hand soon.

It was hard to see exactly how badly he had been hurt. The wet suit was punctured but not shredded so it covered him mostly as normal, and the blood coming from his wounds was not so bright against the black as it would have been against his own flesh. Someone said to apply pressure. The boy was in shock and so not as aware of pain as he might have been. They rolled him onto his uninjured side and every hand that was free was applied to a puncture mark each pushing into the wound to try and close of the points at which his blood was being lost.

One of the girls that had been watching from the shade of the cliffs came across with towels and she sat at his head, making sure he was alright, and reassuring him that help was coming. She knew his name, Kai Brennan, and that he had been wagging school because the surf was so good. She had called his Mum and told her to go to the hospital because Kai would be there sooner than it would take her to get to the beach.

The ambos got there first. It was amazing to see these guys swing into action in a real crisis. They began by making sure Kai was not unconscious and then assessing his ability to know what was happening. While that was happening, they were cutting off his wetsuit carefully so that they could see exactly what extent of wounds they were looking at. They really appreciated having all the hands there to keep up the pressure on the big wounds while they applied such pressure bandages as they could to Kai’s leg and body. Once they had these all in place, they stretchered him up to the ambulance and took him to the hospital.

The cops had arrived, too, and after they had seen that the ambos had everything under control, they started chatting with the fly-pack that had gathered around to see what was happening. They got the basic details of the shark attack and the names of the six lads who had brought him in to shore. They could follow these up later, but the ambos would need an escort to get in quickly, so off they went leaving a bunch of completely stunned kids on the beach.

No-one spoke much. It was like they all needed to let it sink in. Then they started checking that no-one else was hurt, that they were all okay. Then one of the girls started crying. “He’s gunna die! I know it. I could see his eyes. It was like he wasn’t seeing anything.”

“I’m going to the hospital!” Greg desperately want to be sure that Kai would be alright, and the only thing he could think of was to be there and wait for the news. He and Dean packed their kits and got on their bikes. Riding like mad was a great way to release all that tension from the shocking events they had been drawn into.