When we reach the top of the hill Dad drops onto the ground. I walk away from him and throw up at the base of a tree.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tuesday 24 December 1974

Charlie

I make my way to the kitchen, where Abby hands me the phone then goes back to washing dishes. At least Ryan doesn’t call as early in the morning as Sal does. I say ‘hello Kuta’ to a rumble then boom of thunder, along with Sarah’s chant of ‘one more sleep’ as she stomps up and down the hallway. I hope Abby’s found a unicorn toy or there’ll be an ocean of tears tomorrow.

Ryan’s calmed down since Sal’s call, but is still resolved to move back to Brisbane.

‘Man, I wish I could send photos through the phone to remind you why you left,’ I say. ‘There’s nothing you want here. The city’s crowded with people in a shopping frenzy, there are cranes everywhere throwing up dodgy skyscrapers, you can’t breathe through the car fumes. And in the burbs it’s the other extreme: dead. I take Abby’s dog for a walk and I’m lucky if I see one old lady pruning her roses.’

‘You’re describing a city with suburbs. I know what Brisbane’s like. But man, you should see how many people have shown up here even in the last week. It’s like they’re falling from the sky.’

‘Good for KD, right?’

‘But shit for Bali. I’m worried about this, Charlie. Things are changing fast here. Beach is littered with crap every morning now, and I have to fight for space in the waves. I heard a guy yesterday talking about how they should put roads down so he can get up north more easily. It’s out of control.’

‘They’ll leave. They don’t get it. Bali won’t change.’

He sighs. ‘It’s already changed. It’s time for us to move back, try being adults at home.’

‘You’re not thinking straight. Do you remember why we left? Brisbane’s all capitalism, no culture – a police state. The rest of the country still laughs at us, but it’s not funny. It’s never been funny.’

‘Again, this is not news to me.’

Abby and I lock eyes for a moment as lightning quickfires across the sky.

‘Nah, you don’t understand. Petersen’s getting worse. He’s going to run this place until he dies. And we’re too old to endlessly protest about his latest shrugged-off act of tyranny.’

‘People are never too old to care. And you’re getting me fired up about why I should be there, doing something useful.’

‘But you won’t. You’ll take a job in some law firm, get a mortgage and go to the Gold Coast for your holidays. We’ll moan about things and nothing will change. Don’t give up what we have in Kuta, man. It’s still paradise. Get fired up about keeping it that way.’

‘We got seats on a flight tonight,’ he says.

‘How?’ I’m gobsmacked. ‘Christmas Eve?’

‘Sal’s dad pulled some strings.’

‘Right, okay. Well, make nice with your family for Christmas, and then let’s get on the plane to Kuta. I’m counting the days until I’m back there.’