‘Isn’t that a Cliff Richard song?’ Geraldine said.
Leon hummed a tune, and Miki didn’t know what they were talking about.
Dale was still smiling as he extracted a spotlight from the back of the Toyota. ‘Okay, Miki. Can you show us where you usually see these devils so we can put out some traps?’
She led the way through the tip. Now they were here, she felt apprehensive. She wanted to help the devils, but she didn’t want them to be hurt. The devils trusted her, and her special connection with them had been built over time. It was fragile. If the devils were captured, the bond might be broken. They would be released again, of course, but they wouldn’t know that when they went into a trap.
Rubbish racketed as two quolls sprang out from a pile. ‘Hey!’ Dale called. ‘Quolls.’ He swung his spotlight to find them, but Miki knew they were long gone. Quolls were sensitive creatures.
She trudged among the hummocks to the back of the tip. ‘If you wait here near the excavator, I might be able to coax the devils out,’ she told Dale.
He liked this idea, so she laid some meat at the far end of the yard then shifted a short distance away and sat down to wait.
For a while, nothing happened. Wind stirred pieces of plastic and loose bits of tin. Garbage creaked and moaned. Miki was beginning to think they would see nothing tonight, when a dark shape loomed from the shadows. It was the male devil, and he was suspicious. He stopped and sniffed the air then hunched and hissed and snarled, sound rising and falling in this throat like the noise of the takeaway’s espresso machine. He must know strangers were present, but the scent of the meat was tempting, and eventually he scuttled forward and snatched it up.
Dale switched on the spotlight and the devil stopped chewing, squinting into the brightness. The sore on his lip had grown distinctly larger: red-raw and as big as a fifty-cent piece. Dale was beckoning to Miki, so she crept back to him. ‘It looks like that devil might have the disease,’ he whispered.
A stone rolled in her stomach. ‘Could it be anything else?’
‘I don’t think so. They get some bad fight wounds but that looks more like a tumour. We need to catch him and take a sample.’
Dale started towards the Toyota, but Miki hung back, worried about using the traps. The devils wouldn’t understand. It would be terrifying for them.
Leon waited to walk with her and Geraldine. ‘Are you okay with this?’ he asked.
She was unaccustomed to being asked her opinion—but if she didn’t stand up for the devils, who would? ‘I’d rather we left them alone.’
‘Dale has trapped tons of devils. He knows what he’s doing.’
Miki imagined the devil in a trap, butting wildly against the sides. She knew what it was like to be locked in, and the devil would be confused. She wished she hadn’t brought people here.
Geraldine patted her arm and smiled reassuringly. ‘I’m sure your devil will be okay. He’s such a feisty animal. So much attitude for a little guy!’
At the car, Dale set up a folding table and jiggled it to find an even spot on the ground. He had an air of excitement about him as he laid out his gear, but Miki’s stomach was still grinding with angst. Dale demonstrated how to set the Polypipe traps by attaching a chicken wing bait to a string that connected to a wire pin in the door. If an animal went in and pulled on the bait, the pin would be triggered and the door would fall shut. He made it all sound so easy but, to Miki, the pipe looked dark and confined, and her misgivings intensified.
‘If we catch him, can you fix him?’ she asked.
Dale’s eyes locked with hers. ‘I wish I could,’ he said slowly, as if seeking the right words. ‘But if he has the disease it’s only a matter of time.’
A lump clogged Miki’s throat. ‘Till he dies?’
Leon was watching her. Something unspoken told her he understood what she was feeling.
‘I’m really sorry, but yes,’ Dale said. ‘It’s untreatable. A vaccine is being developed, but we’re not there yet.’
‘If you can’t make him better, what’s the point of catching him?’
Dale regarded her quietly and lowered his trap to the ground. His grey eyes were solemn. ‘I know this is very confronting, so I’ll try to explain. Facial tumour disease is a serious threat to devils and it could lead to extinction. We have several scientists working on different aspects of the disease, and my job is to map its distribution and the way it spreads so we can learn more about it. I can’t save your devil, but the information we collect from him could influence our knowledge and plans and help other devils. We won’t know what we’re dealing with unless I collect a sample.’
Miki glanced away, not wanting to show how upset she was.
‘I won’t hurt him,’ Dale went on. ‘Handling wildlife is a privilege, and I study these guys because I care about them. They’re quiet in these traps. It might surprise you. How about we give it a go? The chicken wings are in the esky. Devils love them.’
He handed Miki a trap, and Leon helped her fix a chicken wing in it. Then they set traps around the tip. Once the traps were in place, Miki sat in the Toyota with Geraldine while the men chatted outside. Geraldine unfolded a checked woollen blanket and spread it over her lap, then wriggled close and tucked it over Miki’s knees too, saying, ‘Cold out there, isn’t it?’
This kindness reminded Miki of the way her mother used to come into her room at night and snuggle the blankets tight around her to make sure she stayed warm. It was a motherly thing: a concern for others that extended beyond self. Father never had it. Neither did Kurt. Maybe Geraldine was a mother too. Miki realised she knew very little about the woman sitting beside her.
Geraldine had been fossicking in her handbag, and now she pulled out a book and handed it to Miki. ‘I promised to bring you one. Remember?’
It was Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy, the author who had written Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Miki’s pulse surged and for a moment she forgot about the devils. She examined the cover: a picture of a small flock of black-faced sheep being herded through a wooden gate on a snowy track. Behind them: a border collie and the figure of a man. Branches arched across the track, just like in the forest. A snow-covered farmhouse.
‘I love sharing books,’ Geraldine was saying. ‘And I know you love Tess, but I think you’ll like this story too. When you’ve read it, you’ll have to come and visit me. I want to know what you think.’
Miki ran a finger over the cover. It was hard to believe the book was hers to discover, a whole story waiting to unfold from the pages. ‘I don’t know when I can come,’ she said. Her escapes would end if Kurt found she’d taken a key.
‘That’s all right, dear,’ Geraldine said. ‘You come when you can.’
An hour later, they checked the traps. In the far corner of the yard, one was closed. When Leon shifted it, a loud shriek confirmed they’d caught a devil. Miki pictured the animal, hemmed in and frightened. But Dale seemed unperturbed. Businesslike, he covered one end of the trap with a hessian sack then opened the door and guided the devil in. He passed the bag to Miki, smiling triumphantly. ‘Here’s your devil. You can carry him back to the car.’
Miki accepted the bag tentatively; it was heavy. ‘Will he bite?’
‘Keep him away from your body,’ Dale warned. ‘Let’s hope he’s not hungry.’
In the bag, the devil remained quiet. ‘He’s very still,’ she said. ‘Could he be dead?’
‘He’s alive, all right. Don’t put your hands on him.’
At the car, Dale took the bag from Miki and placed it on the table. With a special set of scales, he recorded the weight then showed Leon how to restrain the devil in the bag to avoid getting bitten. Leon knelt on the ground and settled the animal between his knees before carefully locating the devil’s head and securing it firmly by the muzzle. Dale opened the bag and motioned to Miki and Geraldine to come closer. With the bag rolled back, Miki could see the devil’s black rump. Dale slid a hand over the animal’
s coat. ‘He’s in reasonable condition. Good cover over the ribs. A decent amount of muscle. Do you want to have a feel?’
Geraldine kept her distance and crinkled her nose. ‘He’s a bit stinky.’
‘That’s because he’s stressed,’ Dale explained.
‘I like the way he smells,’ Miki said.
‘Me too,’ Leon agreed. He was doing a good job of holding the devil. He had good hands: firm but gentle—Miki could tell he cared about animals. With trepidation, she reached into the bag and laid a hand on the devil’s fur, which was both wiry and soft. Dale’s eyes were alight with excitement. He obviously thought it was a gift to touch a devil like this, even though the creature had no chance of escape. But Miki had stroked the devil here before with no one around. The devil had been wild and free, and he’d had a choice about approaching her. Contact hadn’t been forced on him.
While Leon held the devil’s muzzle closed, Dale measured the head and hind foot, and then shuffled the fabric around until the animal was sitting in one corner. He instructed Leon to slide a hand into the bag and grasp the muzzle directly. Taking care to keep the devil’s eyes covered, Dale folded back the bag until the muzzle was just visible, nostrils quivering, whiskers pricking the air.
‘How does it look?’ Leon asked.
‘Not the best,’ Dale admitted. He measured the lump, took photos and made sketches.
Miki didn’t need to be told it was bad—the wound looked nasty.
‘I need to take the biopsy now,’ Dale said quietly. ‘It shouldn’t hurt. Most of these tumours have a poor nerve supply.’ He nodded at Leon. ‘Hold tight anyway in case he moves.’ From his pocket Dale produced a large needle with a circular tip that he pushed into the lump, twisting before pulling it out again. Blood dripped and Miki’s heart thumped wildly, but the sample was done and the handling was almost over.
Dale transferred the sample into a vial while Leon closed the bag.
‘When can we let him go?’ Miki asked.
‘Straight away,’ Dale said. ‘Would you like to do it?’
She carried the bag across the tip to exactly the place where the devil had been caught. Squatting, she turned the bag away from her and tugged it open, expecting the devil to bolt. But he didn’t move. She could feel him shivering in there; he must be terribly scared. Slowly, she rolled the bag back until his head was exposed and she could see the dull red of his wound, his scarred pink ears and shiny black eyes. He was beautiful.
‘Give him a little push,’ Dale suggested.
She pressed gently on the devil’s rump. She was humming—a hymn her mother used to sing to her when she was small and having trouble falling asleep. The devil’s ears swivelled as if he was listening. For what seemed a long time, he sat while Miki hummed into the night until something clattered in the rubbish, and the devil sprang from the bag and raced away.
Miki rejoined the others. They were smiling. ‘He’s okay,’ she said.
‘He likes you,’ Leon said.
Dale tossed a chicken wing towards the rubbish, and the devil loped out and snatched it up, apparently unharmed by his experience.
‘That’s the way to a man’s heart,’ Geraldine said. ‘Just feed him meat.’
12
Max watched the pups growing, and it happened so quickly. Their eyes and ears opened at eleven days, and by four weeks they had transformed into small dogs. The bigger they grew, the more fun they were. Yipping at each other. Biting with sharp teeth. Pawing at each other’s faces. Chewing on each other’s tails. They were the best thing. Better than his iPhone, and even better than PlayStation.
But Dad didn’t think so. Every time he saw the pups, he scowled and said they cost too much to feed. That wasn’t true—all they drank was Rosie’s milk.
There were four boys and two girls, and Max had names for them all: Bruiser, Footy, Diesel, Patch, Bonnie and Rosie Junior. For the first few weeks, they lived in the shed in a box that Mum made from a few wooden planks. She said she didn’t want them getting in Dad’s way, and Max agreed. When he let them out, they followed him around the yard and he was careful not to step on them. But Dad might not be so careful.
Max loved all the pups, but Bonnie was his special favourite. She always came straight up to him when he got home, and she liked to bark at him and play tug of war with his jumper. She didn’t mind when he put her in his schoolbag and carried it on his chest, so he started taking her around with him. On Saturday night, he took her down to the takeaway when he went with Dad to get fish and chips.
Miki noticed straight away and said, ‘Wow! What a cute puppy.’ Dad frowned and shook his head, but Miki was so excited to see Bonnie that she came out to pat her. Max hadn’t seen Miki out from behind the counter before. She was tall and slim like a greyhound, and she wore a long flowing dress that looked like it was from an olden-day movie.
‘How old is she?’ Miki asked.
‘Four weeks.’
‘She’s gorgeous.’
‘Yeah, I know. She’s the best.’
‘How many in the litter?’
‘Six.’
‘Are you going to keep her?’
‘Not bloody likely,’ Dad growled.
Miki glanced at Dad then said quietly to Max, ‘You’d better start trying to find homes. Maybe you could take them to school. You can put a for-sale sign in our window if you like.’
‘Do you want one?’ Max asked, hopeful.
‘I wish I could, but I can’t. No backyard.’
‘You could keep her inside.’
Miki smiled, and Max saw sadness in her big blue eyes. ‘Kurt won’t let me have a dog. Maybe in a few years when we have our own farm.’
There was a bang at the back of the shop, and Miki hurried behind the counter and washed her hands at the sink just as Kurt came in. He and Dad stared at each other. Then Dad said, ‘What does it take to get service in this place? I’ve been waiting for ages.’
Kurt frowned at Miki, and Max was annoyed at Dad for getting her in trouble. Kurt didn’t say anything, but Max knew Miki was in for it. He’d listened to Mum and Dad talking about Kurt at home. They didn’t like him. They thought he was mean to her. I think he locks her in, Mum had said. He treats her like a slave. Dad had said maybe he’d better get some locks too, and then laughed as if he was making a joke. But Max didn’t think it was funny—Miki was nice and always gave him extra lollies.
On the way home, Dad was grouchy. ‘Those pups need to be gone in two weeks.’
‘But they’re so little.’ Max ran a finger over Bonnie’s domed head.
‘They’ll be six weeks old and ready to go.’
On Monday, Max convinced Mum to let him take the pups to school so he could find homes for them. He put them in the pram, but Suzie was upset and said, ‘No,’ very loudly and tried to take them out. Max shoved her away.
‘You have to walk, Suzie,’ Mum said. ‘That’s why you’ve got legs.’
In the street, Max asked if he could push the pram. Mum raised her eyebrows at him. ‘I thought you didn’t like wheeling the pram.’ But this was different: Max felt important as he rolled it along. Kids came running to have a look and everyone wanted to pat the pups. It was lucky the pram had high sides. The pups kept trying to stand on their hind legs with their front paws on the edge, and Max had to keep jerking the pram to make them fall down so they couldn’t climb out. By the time he arrived at school, he had about ten kids with him, all talking about how lucky he was. Even Lily Moon came over. ‘They’re cool,’ she said. ‘I wish I could have one.’
‘They’re free,’ Max said, noticing how the morning sun turned her hair golden. ‘You can have one if you want.’
‘I’ll have to ask my dad.’
‘Does he like dogs?’ Max asked. He wasn’t sure if a pup would be safe around Mooney. He’d seen Lily’s dad being mean to his wife and his kids.
‘I don’t know,’ Lily Moon said, ‘but I like them.’
In the classroom Max’s teach
er, Miss Myrtle the Turtle, was writing on the whiteboard. She didn’t seem happy about the pups until Mum promised to take them home straight after show-and-tell. When the bell rang, the kids came rushing in and Miss Myrtle made them sit in a circle on the floor. Max removed the pups from the pram one by one and set them down. ‘Tell us about your pups, Max,’ Miss Myrtle said. ‘How old are they? And what do you feed them?’
Max told the class everything. How he’d been there when they were born. How Rosie ate her afterbirth. How Robbo’s dog was probably the dad. And how Dad said they had to go in two weeks.
‘Free to a good home,’ Mum said.
Miss Myrtle smiled. ‘Does anyone think they might want one?’
Everyone’s hands went up, and Max was stoked. There were twenty-four kids in his class. That made four possible homes for each pup—Max was good at his six-times tables.
Max’s friend Callum didn’t get to see the pups because he was late to school, so he came around to Max’s place that afternoon. But there was a problem: he brought his big brother with him. Max didn’t like Jaden, but what could he do when they both showed up? He couldn’t tell Jaden to go away so he invited them in and gave them packets of chips from the pantry. Mum was down at the shops with Suzie, so she didn’t see when Jaden took an extra pack without asking then drank milk from the bottle in the fridge, spreading his wet pink lips around the opening.
‘So where are these pups?’ Jaden asked, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and shoving the milk back in the fridge.
‘They live in the shed.’ Max didn’t want to show Jaden the pups. Maybe he could get him to play Call of Duty instead. But Jaden was already heading out the back door. Max didn’t like the way the big boy swaggered through the house like he owned it. For once, he wished Dad was home: he would have put Jaden in his place. But Dad was up in the forest cutting down trees, so Max would have to take care of things.
He hurried past Jaden into the shed and sat with the pups, lifting Bonnie onto his lap. ‘Here they are,’ he said. ‘You can hold them, but you have to be gentle.’
The Orchardist's Daughter Page 11
