Move the Mountains

by Emily Conolan

  ‘Charlie, we’re all right,’ you promise him. ‘Look at me!’ He lifts his head and surveys you and Mario again. When he sees your missing arm, he leaps backwards like a startled rabbit.

  ‘They did catch you,’ he breathes. ‘It’s my fault!’ He squeezes his eyes shut and starts to hit his forehead with the heel of his hand.

  ‘Charlie, no!’ you cry. ‘It’s nothing to do with you. It was an accident at the Snowy.’

  ‘She was being a hero,’ Mario jokes gently. ‘She hasn’t changed since we hid you in the cat’s guts.’

  Charlie opens his eyes. A ghost of a smile flickers across his face. ‘Really?’ he asks, hardly daring to believe. ‘No. This is all some crazy dream, it must be.’

  ‘I’ll prove it isn’t,’ says Desmond. He takes the golden compass from his pocket. The emerald shines in the sunlight. ‘Hold this, Charlie. Feel it.’

  A look of wonder comes over Charlie’s face as he turns the compass back and forth in his hands. ‘You were so angry with me when I said I gave this away.’

  Desmond gives an embarrassed harrumph. ‘I was hoping that would be one of the things you’d forgotten,’ he mumbles.

  ‘Our father’s fortune … the code to the safe,’ Charlie says, inspecting it. ‘But the only markings on it are “C” and “D”, just as I told you, for “Charlie” and “Desmond”.’

  ‘Not for “Charlie” and “Desmond”,’ you say. You still haven’t told Desmond that you’ve cracked the code. ‘I think the “C” is for “circumference”, and the “D” is for “diameter”.’

  ‘I still don’t get it,’ Mario complains.

  ‘The circumference is the distance around the outside of a circle,’ you explain to him again, patiently. ‘The diameter is the measurement straight through the middle of a circle. If you divide a circle’s circumference by its diameter, the answer is always pi. And that’s—’

  ‘Three point one four one!’ cries Desmond.

  ‘And so on and so on,’ you explain. ‘Three point one four one five nine two six five three five nine … the decimal places of pi’s value go on forever. But you probably don’t need all those numbers to unlock the safe.’

  Charlie embraces you. ‘You clever girl,’ he murmurs. ‘You wonderful person.’

  ‘Well, you were my teacher,’ you say, muffled by his hug. ‘And it’s still just a theory. Now we have to go and test it.’

  YOU’RE TRYING TO get Charlie released from hospital, but the matron on duty at the reception desk is being obstinate. ‘He has to be assessed by a doctor before I can let him go,’ she insists.

  ‘But it’s for such a short while,’ pleads Desmond. ‘I’m his brother! And we’re in a hurry!’

  ‘Never mind,’ says Charlie, defeated. ‘I’ll stay. You go.’

  Having just spent two months in hospital yourself, you know how it can become your whole world; how you can no longer imagine a life beyond the walls. In Charlie’s beaten, helpless air, you recognise yourself when you were at your lowest.

  ‘We’re getting you out of here,’ you tell Charlie. ‘This isn’t a prison.’

  ‘I’m authorised to restrain him at any time,’ the matron says, getting to her feet.

  ‘Can I help?’ says an accented voice that sounds oddly familiar. You can only see a white-coated shoulder through a doorway behind the reception desk.

  ‘Doctor Becker,’ exclaims the matron, ‘this patient is trying to—’

  Becker, you think. Isn’t that…

  ‘Frieda!’ you shout, and a blonde head pops through the doorway. It’s her! Your heart swells and you feel butterflies in your stomach. Although it seems like a lifetime since you were on the boat together overthrowing the horrible Bob Dawe, she hasn’t changed a bit. You laugh with joy.

  She gasps in delight at the sight of you and runs to you for a hug, then stops short, aghast. Oh, that’s right, you think, my arm. I’m probably going to get this reaction a lot.

  ‘It “god orf”,’ you tell her in Lidia’s Australian accent, nodding at the stump. ‘But it’s all right. I’ll tell you about it later. Can you get us out of here?’

  Frieda’s smile returns. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she says.

  THREE … ONE …

  The dial on the safe clicks as you rotate it into each position. You’re kneeling on the cool concrete floor of the safe deposits room in the back of the Canberra bank. Every slight noise echoes – you’re sure you can hear your heart beating.

  Mario, Desmond and Charlie lean over you, watching and waiting. The ghost of old Mr Ford Senior is probably watching you too.

  Desmond thinks the safe might contain a fortune in banknotes. Charlie hopes there’ll be some of his mother’s jewellery.

  ‘If only the deeds to Sandford’s Rise were in there,’ muses Charlie now. ‘But the family farm is gone.’

  ‘I didn’t want to sell it,’ says Desmond. ‘We were nearly broke. I couldn’t manage it alone. Bob Dawe seemed to think he might find gold there – he gave me a good price.’

  ‘I know,’ sighs Charlie. ‘But I miss it so much.’

  ‘Me too,’ agrees Desmond. ‘Me too.’

  Four… one…

  With a spring-loaded pop, the door to the safe swings open. It is nearly empty inside, except for a few large square leather-bound books. You move back and let Charlie reach in to take them.

  ‘Photo albums,’ he breathes. The pages creak slightly as he turns them.

  ‘That’s it?’ Mario exclaims. ‘Shake them – maybe money will fall out, or a treasure map!’

  ‘No, Mario,’ says Charlie. He sits cross-legged on the floor, and Desmond sits beside him. ‘This is the treasure.’ He turns to his brother. Desmond’s face is awash with confusion. ‘Des, you don’t still have the letter, do you? From Dad?’

  Des rummages in his pocket. ‘Yes, I brought it with me. There’s a bit where he talks about the treasure … ah, this is it.’ And he starts to read:

  Of course the farm means a lot to me, being my life’s work. But there is a greater treasure by far, a forgotten treasure – my last and best legacy. It’s in a safe at my bank in Canberra. Charlie has the code: it was engraved on his mother’s compass, which he took to the war. Charlie, I know you haven’t been well lately…

  Desmond breaks off, choking up. He hands the letter to Charlie, who keeps reading.

  Charlie, I know you haven’t been well lately. You’ve been forgetting things, imagining things, and Des, you’ve been struggling with it. You were always such different personalities, and maybe I didn’t do enough to bring you together. But it’s my dying wish that you two will open this safe together and recover the treasure inside. And you know that if you don’t honour your old man’s dying wish, I’ll return to haunt you from beyond the grave! Ha, ha, ha.

  Seriously, though, don’t lose each other. Don’t forget me. Or your mother. Although you’ve both had to be strong to survive, I know you both have kind hearts, and I hope you’ll hold me there in your hearts always.

  Your loving dad

  Desmond sobs quietly and Charlie holds him. Mario takes your hand.

  ‘That was his last act,’ Desmond says. ‘He wanted to bring us back together, to appreciate what we had – our family. And all along, I thought it was gold or a stash of money. After Dad died, when I asked Charlie about the compass and found out Charlie had given it away, I was furious. I did the opposite of what Dad wanted.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ says Charlie. You notice as he comforts his brother that there’s a steadiness to him and a clarity he didn’t have at the hospital. ‘I think this is all turning out exactly how it was meant to. Let’s go, so we can look at the pictures together.’

  You walk outside into the sunlight and find a bench under some trees on the street.

  ‘You look like mini-copies of your current selves,’ laughs Mario, looking at the photos, and he’s right: young Charlie was fair and slim, just like he is now, and Desmond was always dark and sturdy. There
they are climbing a tree … covered in mud from the dam … feeding an orphaned calf from a bottle … struggling together to lift an enormous pumpkin. The only thing matching is their grins.

  ‘We had fun, didn’t we?’ Charlie says. ‘Before boarding school …’

  There’s a willowy, gentle-looking woman in some of the photos – their mother. Their father was a stocky man, his face in the pictures always shaded by the brim of his ancient-looking hat.

  ‘She was a Sanders and he was a Ford,’ Charlie explains to you. ‘She kept her maiden name after marriage and gave it to me, too. All the local families thought that was very odd. “Sandford’s Rise” is a combination of their two names. They changed the name of the farm when they married, but it was Mum’s family’s property originally. I think it used to be called “Shadow’s Rest”. No one knows why.’

  There’s another album with black-and-white photos dating back to the late eighteen hundreds. ‘There are Mum’s ancestors,’ says Desmond. ‘The bloke on the left with the eye-patch was her great-great-grandpa.’ You look closely at the two men with their arms around each other, their faces sombre.

  ‘They’re twins!’ you exclaim.

  ‘That’s right,’ says Desmond. ‘They made their fortune on the goldfields, I believe, then the one with the eye-patch bought Sandford’s Rise – or Shadow’s Rest, as he named it. The compass used to be his; he’s holding it in that photo.’ You look closely and see that he’s right.

  That reminds you of something: the cornetto. It was in your family for at least as long as the compass was in Charlie’s, and during the war, thanks to you and Charlie, those two golden heirlooms swapped places. Did it really cause all that bad luck? You don’t think so anymore. But now that the compass is back with Charlie, it’s time for the cornetto to come back to you – if Charlie still has it.

  ‘Do you remember the cornetto I gave you – the golden charm?’ you ask.

  Charlie’s face falls. ‘They wouldn’t let me keep it in the hospital. I wore it every day until then.’

  ‘I know where it is,’ Des says. He walks over to Mario’s parked car, opens the boot, and returns with a leather satchel. ‘Doctor Becker gave me this as we were leaving the hospital – it’s what you had with you when you were admitted. All yours, Charlie.’

  Charlie draws a notebook, a pen and a well-worn cardigan from the bag, then finally a chain of gold. He pours it into your palm. It seems to tingle as it touches your skin. It’s so small, you think. Just a trinket, really. But in a way, it helped cause all this.

  Mario picks up the notebook and leafs through it. It’s full of Charlie’s pencil sketches. ‘There’s Lenola!’ he gasps. ‘And there’s me!’ You crane your neck to look too. They’re amazingly lifelike.

  ‘I drew all these from memory,’ Charlie says proudly. ‘But … my memories of those days weren’t all good.’ As the pages go on, the drawings become more jagged, the shadows more menacing. There’s another picture of you and Mario, but you can hardly see it because Charlie has written over the top, again and again, keep them safe keep them safe keep them safe. There’s another picture of Cat’s Mouth filled with German soldiers, their figures deeply etched in black as if Charlie were trying to carve them out of the paper with his pencil. Laced over the top, in clouds of letters, he’s written don’t tell don’t tell don’t tell.

  ‘I can’t look at this,’ says Charlie. He’s started to tremble.

  ‘Is a flashback coming?’ you ask.

  ‘Maybe.’ Charlie suddenly stands up, runs to Mario’s car and locks himself inside. You can see him through the windows, curled up on the passenger seat. His eyes are wide and terrified – he seems to be breathing very fast. When Mario tries to unlock the door and open it, Charlie holds tightly to the door and shakes his head. So you stand by the car for fifteen minutes, occasionally calling out, ‘Are you okay, Charlie?’

  ‘I’m okay,’ you hear him reply.

  ‘Can I help?’

  ‘No.’

  Eventually, he comes out. ‘It feels like you’re having a heart attack,’ he says in a shaky voice. ‘The memories start playing like a film, and all you can do is watch.’

  ‘It must be horrible,’ you say. You hug him. He’s sweaty, as though he’s run a marathon.

  CHARLIE GOES BACK to the hospital that afternoon without protest. ‘I know I can’t live alone just yet,’ he says. ‘But it would be nice to get out more.’

  ‘We’ll be down every weekend,’ says Mario. ‘Just try to stop us!’

  ‘Oh,’ you gasp, ‘Desmond, the apprenticeship contract you offered me – I ripped it in half this morning! Before I realised how everything would turn out!’

  Desmond just laughs. ‘You’ll have to try harder than that to get out of working for me,’ he said, and your heart fills with gladness and relief. You are going to be an engineer – for real! Charlie and Mario are beaming too.

  Frieda’s shift has just ended, and she takes you for a cup of tea in the staffroom, while Mario and Desmond go for a beer. Seeing her is special, in a way you can’t quite put words to. The two of you talk and talk.

  ‘And you’ll never believe it,’ you conclude. ‘Desmond sold the family farm, Sandford’s Rise, to our old friend, Bob Dawe!’

  ‘You’re joking!’ she cries. ‘Bob Dawe – what a scheming crook he was. You know, what he did on the boat was just small change for him. He’d been laundering money for international criminal gangs, robbing people blind, and it’s finally caught up with him. He’s going to trial at last, in Sydney, and I’m going to be a witness!’

  ‘You’re going to tell everyone what he did?’ you ask. ‘You’re a hero! Wow, I wish I could be there in court when he gets his comeuppance!’

  ‘You should come,’ says Frieda, her eyes twinkling. ‘As my moral support.’

  SO YOU DO. Frieda holds her head high on the witness stand and commands the jury’s attention. You want to leap to your feet and cheer when she’s done, but just give her a wink and a grin.

  It’s weird to see Bob Dawe again. He seemed so threatening and powerful on the boat. Now he just looks like a toad with indigestion. He notices you in the gallery. Then he notices your arm. You meet his gaze, and stare him down. He’s so unnerved that he stumbles over his answer and has to ask the prosecutor to repeat the question. You smile and hold your head high, like Frieda.

  The jury adjourns, and you and Frieda get pastries for lunch in downtown Sydney. At last the jury returns, the judge raps his gavel, and the foreman of the jury stands up and presents their verdict.

  ‘Guilty, Your Honour.’

  Frieda squeezes your hand and you get a happy, fizzy-soda feeling in your body.

  ‘Mister Robert Dawe,’ intones the judge, ‘you have been found guilty on five counts of fraud and two counts of embezzlement. Your lawyer has indicated that you have declared bankruptcy and your assets will be liquidated. However, I do not believe this to be enough of a punishment, so I hereby sentence you to ten years’ gaol without parole.’

  The judge’s convoluted English is hard to follow, but you caught ten years’ gaol well enough. ‘What does your assets will be liquidated mean?’ you ask Frieda, when you get outside on the street. ‘It sounds like they’re going to chop off his head and put it through a mincer!’

  She snorts with laughter. ‘It just means that everything he owns will be sold and the money will be used to pay off his debts.’

  You mentally add liquidate assets to your English vocabulary. Then you suddenly realise what that means. ‘Frieda!’ you cry. ‘He’ll have to sell Sandford’s Rise! Charlie and Des can buy it back!’ You fish the cornetto out of your pocket and swing it around over your head. The gold twinkles in the sunshine. ‘The good luck is back!’ you cry. A few people turn to stare, and Frieda starts laughing.

  ‘By the end of our boat ride, you thought your mother was crazy for believing in that curse,’ she says. ‘But now you believe in it again too?’

  ‘Of course not.�
�� You laugh. ‘But having said that, it’s not just a piece of gold, either. This necklace has a story as old as my family. I crossed the world to find it. It ties me to Charlie, and to my home. It’s a part of so many memories.’

  Freida gives you a giant hug. Just then, you catch sight of someone over her shoulder. He’s sitting against the wall of a building, with his cap laid out upside down on the ground in front of him. He’s dark-skinned, and he doesn’t lift his eyes from the pavement. A cardboard sign in front of him reads: ‘I FOUGHT IN WW2 TO SAVE AUSTRALIA. NOW I CAN’T GET VETERAN’S HOUSING. PLEASE HELP.’

  Your heart goes out to this man. Why can’t he get veteran’s housing? People on the street just walk by and ignore him. If ever a man deserved good fortune, you decide, it’s this man. He fought for your freedom in the war, and now you’re a free woman in his country.

  The cornetto is still in your hand. A thought occurs to you: I could give him this. Mamma would wring your neck if she knew, of course. She’ll always believe in the curse, and maybe she’ll only feel right once she has the cornetto back. But you don’t want it to have such a hold over her. You want Mamma to start making her own luck, like you’ve made yours.

  In your heart, you can’t bear to give the cornetto away. It means too much to everyone. But your brain argues that’s precisely the reason you should give it away – to prove the idea of the curse doesn’t mean anything anymore, and to help someone who might need it more than you do.

  If you decide to keep the cornetto to send back to Mamma, go to scene 34.

  If you decide to give the cornetto to the man with the sign, go to scene 35.

  You drop the cornetto into your pocket and bring some coins out instead. The man looks up, squinting against the sunlight as you approach him.

  ‘Thank you for your service,’ you say, dropping the coins in his hat.

  He nods.

  ‘I almost decided to give the cornetto to that man, but I’ve decided Mamma needs it more,’ you say to Frieda as you fall back into step beside her.