Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
The first time I went fishing with my brother was on holiday at Pebbly Beach on the South Coast. Having received a fishing rod for Christmas he was keen to try it out. We decided to head up the beach on our own and go fishing.
As usual we were on holiday for a week during the long summer school holidays with my parents. Our parents’ best friends from High School rented a cottage at the beach every year and we always joined them. Usually there were long ambling walks with the adults, this time my brother and I headed out alone, him about 10 and me 12 years old.
Off we went carrying bucket and rod, chatting about life and fishing while watching the dolphins surfing the waves. They always surfed the waves down there.
The day was warm but overcast.
“Best time for catching fish” my brother remarked knowledgably.
When we were not chatting I hummed to myself. A dolphin song.
So independent and free without adults, we were sure to catch a fish and bring it back for tea.
The beach was empty. After discussing the pros and cons of various sites
to fish , we settled on a sheltered place where a streamlet flowed into the sea. How to cast the line created another area of debate. Eventually he sent the baited hook out past the waves and stood angle deep in the water.
The grey sky fractured the light and it was deceptively bright.
“There is always more light on grey day than you think” my father would say when he was teaching me to make photographs with the old exacta camera.
“You also can get very burned on a grey day. So wear a hat” My head was hot . I had no hat.
I sat down on the sand and listened to the rhythmic sound of waves and watched the flickering of the light on the water. I wriggled my toes into the sand and tracing circles in the sand I noticed so many tiny bits of shell among the sand grains. I kept drawing shapes and mounding up sand.
“I think it’s a statue” I said to myself- “a statue lying on the sand made of sand and shell grit”. I had molded the shape of a fish in the sand. I looked up into the sky the sun filling my vision. Life was sleepy I wondered how long till lunch.
“What?” my brother asked
“It’s a statue of a fish – you know those ones you can only see one side”.
I couldn’t see him clearly with the sun behind him, he seemed to shrug and turn towards the ocean. I wasn’t sure if he was fishing or not. I had lost interest.
“Caught anything?”
“Nah!”
“Did you cast out properly?” big sister voice asked.
“Yep..”
“Ah …” I stared at the sea, it seemed to be made of glass now, smooth and flat stretching out to the horizon – there were hardly any waves.
“I’ve got one! I’ve got one” he hissed between his teeth as if that would keep in on the line.
Jumping to my feet “Where? What do we do? What do we do?” I was excited. A catch!
He reeled it in- a good sized bream, silver grey, glistening 30 cm of fish, twisting and turning on the end of the line.
“Take it off! take it off“ he shouted.
“How? Ill hurt it”
“Grab the hook!” – Somehow I managed to get the hook out from between the jaws. It was slimy and wriggly to touch. I ripped some skin.
“What do we do now?”
“Kill it!”
We looked at each other _ we hadn’t thought about that. He put in on the sand. We watched the poor thing flapping about and moved if away from the water.
“You!”
“ I cant .How? ”
“Put the knife in here.”
“No I cant! if you know you do it.” I screamed.
He screamed at me “Kill it!”
“No! “I cried “I can’t kill it”
Both of us stood staring at the fish, then looking at each other.
The fish flapping , gapping and gasping for breath .
“Its going back !its going back!” I screamed
Horrified we watched our fish prize escaping back to the sea.
“Grab it!” I shouted and my brother caught it again , this time with his hands and put it in the bucket.
It was contained.
We stood there, sun strong on our heads staring down at the fish now flapping in the round bottom of the bucket. Looking at each other then back to the fish.
In a clam and steady voice my brother looked at me and said : ”I’ll give you a dollar if you kill it.”
Eyes stared at each other over the bucket
“No…. lets take it back.”
“To the house?”
“No…. lets take it back to the water – lets let it go.”
We returned to the adults without a fish. There were none. The story of the catch locked within us – a secret pact held by brother, sister and the ocean.