The Hibiscus Airport
The first three pages... Novel Excerpt
Bonbon turns over a rock with
his foot and tiny blue swimmer crabs spill onto the sand which started him
thinking of the Chinese hsieh chao, crab claws, and how it could be used
to keep away evil spirits. At the time of the summer solstice, Bonbon waits
for the sun to rise at a beach house some hours from Melbourne, and plans
to walk for a few hours before heading back to the hire car. His brain feels
curdled, and he thinks of getting home so he can rest with his legs stretched
out.
He recalls the recorded case of a physician who placed a bag of spiders
and crabs on a patient’s hands in order that her malady be extracted
from the mind as neatly as a pair of forceps could pick a thorn from flesh.
In the sea there is a crab as big as a coin with small ones attached to
the abdomen like winged elm seeds which are called crab slaves.
According to the Chinese Materia Medica, the crab is an insect of the water
but is also said to belong to the fishes. It walks sideways and is called
p’ang hsieh; on account of the noise of its movement it is called
huo suo; on account of its external shell, it is the armoured scholar; and
because it is empty inside, it is said to have no bowels. The saying about
crabs carrying the awns of rice to the sea as a present to their chief,
is nonsense. In Hunan, there is a hundred legged crab.
The sun comes with tiny grey clouds over its face, like a jack-o-lantern
carved in an attitude of sorrow and he hopes this is not an omen but the
grey pales and drifts away and he doesn’t feel any different. There
is enough light that he opens the shopping bag of crabs he is carrying and
sees one chunky mama crab fondling white plastic in its pincers. The barking
of a dog takes away Bonbon’s sense of privacy and he gets to his feet,
eager to leave.
The escarpment curves into the sea like a woman’s breast but once
he is around the corner—rocks slow his progress. the beach stretches
flat towards the family and the rising sun. The woman and her children are
digging a moat around a castle. He feels a longing as he comes abreast.
The dog barks and rushes out, baring teeth. An old dog, wattled like a turkey.
It springs forward and teeth sink into his boots. He experiences a sharp
killing fury but settles for a short command. It lets go. The baby on the
woman’s hip starts squalling and the older girl brings a frayed rope
to attach to the dog’s collar and yells, “Bad Spotty, bad dog.”
The dog stares at his victim in a bewildered fashion as if trying to recall
a small good thing. The toddler fills her mouth with sand.
He has some knowledge of dogs from his army days and believes it to be an
Australian cattle dog; heelers—this one is blue with motley smudges
around the neck, but they come in red as well. Not your usual family dog
but the beach is flanked by large farming properties.
“Don’t understand what got into him,” the woman says.
She insists on taking him back to a flat-roofed farmhouse to ply him with
cups of tea brewed under a knitted cosy, and thick slices of a home baked
sourdough with freshly churned butter and wildflower honey. The older girl
folds the baby into a rainbow crochet shawl and goes for a walk around the
house pretending to be the mother. The toddler is her slave.
The food turns his mood and he feels charitable. “What does the world
look like?” the girl asks.
“Round,” he tells her. “With sharp points.”
“I guess you will be going back around the world to where you started,”
the girl says.
He explains that he has driven down from Melbourne to enjoy the beach, and
that it is his second week in this country; that he is on an adventure to
find his wife’s family. And no, not really, his mother was from Newcastle
but his father was American. His wife was named after a flower and she was
a painter. They are curious and ask him questions as if he is no longer
a stranger. I have something for my wife’s relatives, he says. They
tell him that his carefully collected crabs will die in captivity, so he
gives them the plastic bag.
“We’d like to meet your family.” the older girl says.
“Maybe they will have kids we can play with.”
The mother dresses her children in beanies and woollen scarves to go back
down to the beach and release the crabs. While they are gone, the woman
flirts with him. Her mouth is lush but turned down like an envelope ready
for posting. The dog stares at them warily from the fireplace. The fire
hisses as it catches green twigs.
The woman gives him the address of a friend in Melbourne and drives him
back to his hire car. He crumples the note and throws it on the floor.