Free Bookmark Days by Scot Gardner

okay?’
    ‘I’m all right,’ his father squeaked. He sounded as though he was fighting with tears. ‘My foot’s stuck, that’s all. Grab the torch from the glovebox.’
    Nathaniel twisted sideways and we heard a clatter as the glovebox contents fell out. Then the cabin lit up.
    ‘Jesus, Dad!’ Nathaniel cried. ‘You’re bleeding. Where are you bleeding from?’
    My dad tugged Nathaniel clear and took the torch. He wriggled inside the cab and inspected Junior’s foot.
    ‘Av! Grab the first-aid kit from the back of the Rangey.’
    There was an edge of panic in Dad’s voice. Nathaniel and Junior probably couldn’t hear it, but it frightened the hell out of me. Made me run to the car. I found the kit and stole the blanket from sleeping Katie’s lap. She stirred but didn’t wake.
    I gave the first-aid box to Dad, unfolded the blanket and draped it over Nathaniel’s shoulders.
    ‘Thanks,’ he said. His teeth were chattering. ‘Is he going to be okay?’
    ‘He’ll be fine,’ Dad said, but I could hear the fear in his voice again.
    Nathaniel stuck his head in the cab.
    Dad fumbled with the plastic wrapper on the biggest of the bandages. ‘We’re going to need help,’ he said quietly. ‘Take the boy in the Rangey. Go to their place. We need an ambulance. Jaws of life. Go right now.’
    I tugged on the blanket. ‘Nathaniel? Let’s go. We’ll go to your place and get help.’
    We were probably twenty Ks from the Carringtons’ gate. I drove as fast as I could with the windscreen wipers on high. The rain eased and so did Nathaniel’s shivering.
    ‘You’re a good driver.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘Your dad teach you?’
    ‘Dad and Hoppy.’
    ‘Hoppy?’
    ‘My grandad.’
    ‘Edward?’
    ‘That’s the one.’
    ‘Why do you call him Hoppy?’
    ‘I don’t know. Just a nickname.’
    He huffed a laugh. ‘Grumpy bugger.’
    I remembered the serve Hoppy had given Nathaniel when we went out to fix the fence. ‘Only to you guys.’
    He chuckled properly then. ‘That would be right. The feelings are mutual.’
    I laughed too, and the horror of the car smash seemed to ease.
    ‘Well, mutual for some members of the family anyway,’ he said.
    I looked across at him. He was staring at the road.
    There was a moan from the back seat. Nathaniel looked around. I hoped it was dark enough back there to hide Katie’s details.
    ‘Your cousin?’ Nathaniel whispered.
    ‘Yes, Katie. She’ll have a sore head in the morning.’
    When I looked again, Nathaniel was staring at me.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘What for?’
    ‘Everything. For not hating me.’
    ‘That’s nothing,’ I said. ‘Easy.’
    Perhaps a little toooooo easy.

CHAPTER 14
    The clock on the dash said 2.53 when I turned the Range Rover into their driveway. Nathaniel directed me to the carport near the back door. I stopped the engine.
    ‘I’ll be back,’ he said as he slid from his seat, the picnic blanket still around his shoulders. ‘Promise.’
    I waited. Katie snored quietly. In about three minutes the light above the back door snapped on, but it wasn’t Nathaniel, it was Les Carrington Senior. He wore an oilskin coat and gumboots, pyjamas underneath. He squinted at the windscreen. I waved and he started shouting.
    ‘Get out of here! What the hell do you think you’re doing at this time of night?’
    He banged his fist on the bonnet. ‘Go on, get out! Before I put a bloody brick through your windscreen.’
    He looked silly, with his six strands of hair pointing every which way. Something had changed in me that day. Old man Carrington no longer seemed like the monster my grandad and dad made him out to be. Knowing that Marilyn wasn’t the devil and understanding in my heart that Nathaniel and I were rapidly becoming the opposite of ‘feud’ made Les look pathetic and misguided. I tooted the horn.
    The old man jumped. His voice went up two octaves and seven points on the volume control. ‘You stupid, low-life scum. How dare