The Reluctant Doorkeeper Trilogy

4. Day 25

Next morning, the portal continued to display blank columns followed by the red announcement and a call to Will James confirmed his own search had produced the same result. So far, there had been no government broadcast advising the problem was being dealt with, or instructing users to redirect employment inquiries to another database. Impatient for news, Emma asked Will if his friend had had any ideas.

‘Sandra’s certain someone’s hacked the system,’ Will replied.

‘So, what now?’

‘I guess we just have to wait.’

‘I tried calling the Department,’ Emma persisted, ‘but couldn’t get through. Not even a recorded message asking me to try later.’

‘Did Jack say anything about the uni system? Only I didn’t go in yesterday.’

‘All good, he said when I asked.’

‘That’s a relief. I’ve got an exam today.’

‘I won’t keep you then. Let me know if you hear anything.’

‘Sure.’

‘Good luck with the exam,’ she said, but Will had already disconnected.

Gathering up dirty clothes from Jack’s bedroom – he’d flown out the door saying he was late and would miss the train – occupied a few minutes, but Emma thought she’d go mad if she stayed indoors any longer, so decided to visit the market even though she had no vouchers left for purchases. She could give Uncle Charlie a break, provided neither of the Ritchie brothers showed up.

* * *

Charlie was sitting in a corner of his stall, slurping a huge slice of watermelon. Red juice had stained his mouth and his white beard was dotted with black pips. ‘Hi there,’ Emma called. ‘Do you need a hand today?’

Charlie smacked his lips, dislodging the fragments of melon caught in chin hair. They floated for a moment before joining other detritus. ‘Morning, my dear, this is a surprise. When you rushed off yesterday, I thought you’d changed your mind about stall work.’

‘No, I didn’t want to risk a reprimand from your boss.’ She edged closer, leaning over a tray of potatoes. ‘You weren’t in trouble for letting me look after the stall?’

‘No, Cal’s a good sort. Wish I could say the same of his brother.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind if I see anyone around that looks like Cal.’

‘Just remember they’re identical twins. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell them apart.’

‘Do they both wear odd, er, I mean colourful, clothing?’

‘Dugald tends to wear faded cast-offs. Sourced from a recycling bin, I imagine. Tight-fisted bastard.’ Charlie tossed melon rind in the bin under the table. ‘Sorry, Emma, I shouldn’t swear in front of you.’

‘No problem. Don’t forget I’ve got a teenage son.’

‘How is the theatrical Jack?’

‘Theatrical, but at least he makes me smile. He was pirouetting through the apartment like a ballerina the other day.’ She demonstrated the move, making sure to exaggerate her actions.

Charlie laughed, a deep-throated chortle that ended in a porcine snort. Then his expression altered to one bordering on fear. ‘Hand me an apple or something, Emma. Dugald Ritchie has just arrived and he doesn’t look happy.’

‘I didn’t hear the truck.’ She passed over the nearest item to hand, a ripe banana.

‘He parks it around the back. Likes to surprise us stallkeepers.’

‘I can’t pay, Charlie,’ she whispered, remembering her vouchers had run out.

‘Oh dear, that one should have been tossed out. No charge if you still want it, Emma.’

‘Thanks. The riper the better for banana cake.’

Charlie handed it back. ‘Morning, Mr Ritchie. What can I do for you?’

‘Seen my bloody brother?’

‘Not today.’

Curious, Emma decided to stick around, so pretended to inspect the carrots.

‘Bastard’s taken off with the spare scanner. Bloody well knows mine’s on the blink. How am I supposed to check-in warehouse produce without one?’

Charlie shrugged. ‘If he turns up, I’ll tell him you need it. Have you tried calling?’

‘Course I bloody have. Won’t answer, damn him.’

Emma turned her head to better observe the other twin. As expected, Dugald was a carbon copy of Cal, except that anger had turned his face a vivid shade of purple and his clothes – baggy shorts held up with a frayed belt, a t-shirt pitted with holes and shabby work boots – had all seen better days. ‘I’ll be going, then, Uncle Charlie. See you tomorrow.’

Charlie smiled and raised a hand.

‘Good customer?’ she heard Dugald ask.

‘Very good. Been buying from me for years.’

Dugald sniffed. ‘Well, I can’t hang around here doing bugger all. Gotta find the bastard.’

* * *

Emma almost collided with the other brother as he emerged from a stand of windswept trees near the shore. ‘Sorry,’ she said automatically, in deference to his higher status.

‘No, no, I’m the one who should apologise. Not looking where I’m going.’ Cal scratched his head. ‘Emma, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. I’ve just met your brother. He’s looking for you.’

‘On the warpath, I suppose.’

‘Something about a scanner.’

Cal grinned. ‘Thought I’d teach him a lesson. It’s time he took care of his devices instead of relying on mine.’

‘He’s with Uncle Charlie.’

‘Right.’ Cal surveyed the immediate area. ‘Know anywhere I could hide out for a few hours?’

‘My place isn’t far,’ she answered, feeling a sudden impulse to shield him from brotherly wrath.

‘I wouldn’t want to impose.’

‘It’s fine by me.’ She pointed to a boardwalk leading away from coastal scrub. ‘If we take the shore route, we should avoid your brother. Give me five minutes in case he appears. I’ll meet you at the end of the boardwalk.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ Cal gave a mock salute.

Emma set off at a brisk pace, aware that the incoming tide would soon send waves over old, and in some places rotten, boards. Friends and neighbours often warned her that the short-cut was unsafe, but she continued to use it, advantages outweighing disadvantages in her opinion. Standing on the boardwalk, she could look across the wide bay and envisage a natural world untroubled by the pollution of overpopulation. She held no religious beliefs but felt that if a creator had existed, they would rue the day Homo Sapiens began their destructive march over the planet. The boardwalk terminated several metres from a narrow strip of sand, the final section having been torn off during a storm the previous year. Emma didn’t mind getting her feet wet, even though salt-water stung the deep cracks in her heels. Extremely dry skin, initially a summer problem, now bothered her throughout the year, no matter how much moisturiser she applied.

Before she reached the jagged boards marking a storm’s destruction, Emma stopped to wait for Cal and stood at the rail watching seagulls bob on the swell, thankful for the absence of their usually raucous voices. Further out, she noted a cargo ship heading south and wished she could hitch a ride, travel across vast oceans without a care in the world. Sharing a tiny cabin, or even swinging in a hammock like the sailors of old, would be preferable to shore life huddled on the rim of a drying continent, never knowing when a storm surge would inundate the place she’d called home for twenty years.

Cal’s approach put paid to her fanciful thoughts. ‘Hi there,’ she called, turning away from the sea.

‘I never knew this boardwalk existed,’ he answered, stepping up beside her. ‘Does it lead straight to the residential area?’

She glanced at highly-polished black boots embellished with scarlet laces. ‘Yes, but you might want to take off your boots. The boardwalk ends abruptly, so we have to paddle for a few metres.’

‘That should be fun. I haven’t paddled since I was a kid.’ He bent down to remove his boots and socks.

Emma had expected red socks to match the laces, not purple with green dots; she turned away to suppress a laugh. Blue and white striped shorts and a floral shirt completed Cal’s vibrant outfit.

‘Let’s go,’ he urged, tapping her shoulder. ‘I don’t want to run into the belligerent brother.’

‘Follow me and watch your step.’

‘Sure thing.’

Before long, they emerged from shallow water onto a strip of sand dotted with seaweed. ‘The path to my block is over there.’ Emma pointed to a sandy track winding between clumps of marram grass. ‘I suggest you stay barefoot until we reach solid ground.’

Cal nodded but dropped his boots on the sand. ‘Come and sit for a moment, Emma Cartwright. I have a proposal.’

She recoiled at his use of her surname. Had he been checking up on her, searching government databases for employment and lifestyle details? ‘I prefer to remain standing. My clothes were clean on this morning.’ She calculated the distance from beach to apartment block. If she ran, would he try to stop her?

Cal shrugged. ‘No problem. It won’t take long, just a little job. Not official, mind, so it won’t extend your GAUP, but I pay well. Vouchers and transport provided. I presume you can drive a vehicle without Auto-drive?’

Intrigued now, Emma moved towards him. ‘Yes. Where do you want me to go?’

‘Heard of the Bay-enders?’

Emma nodded.

‘I have to deliver a part to their camp. Normally I’d go myself, but I have to visit the city tomorrow, and the old boy doesn’t want to wait until I get back.’

‘What’s wrong with delivering it today?’

Cal tapped the side of his nose with his index finger. ‘Let’s just say the less my brother knows, the better.’

‘How will I find the camp?’

‘Directions will be supplied.’

‘Where do I pick up the transport?’

‘You’ll receive instructions.’ Cal smiled. ‘Thanks, Emma. Charlie said you were a good sort.’

‘Did he now?’ Emma replied, wondering what else Uncle Charlie had mentioned about her.

* * *

Settled on her old sofa with Cal Ritchie sitting opposite in the single armchair, Emma soon realised that Uncle Charlie had divulged nothing about her life, other than her unemployment status and dependability. In similar fashion, Cal Ritchie revealed little about himself, chatting instead about market matters, such as the effect of recent higher than usual temperatures on market vegetables’ shelf-life.

He was, however, effusive in his praise of her coffee cake, declaring it the best he’d ever tasted and asking for a third slice. Then, just when Emma thought he was about to leave her in peace, he slumped in the chair and fell asleep, lanky arms cradling his cake-filled stomach. His ability to relax totally in the home of a stranger seemed odd, but later that day, Emma decided to take it as a compliment.