Somewhere around the Corner

by Jackie French

  ‘Thellie! Thellie, come back here.’ Barbara tried to yell above the noise of the water.

  Thellie looked up. She was standing by Gully Jack’s channel. The channel was empty, although the creek lashed high and furious beyond the wall at the end. Already the waves were eating at the remaining dirt, tearing into it and gradually swirling it away. Thellie shook her head as Barbara beckoned and pointed down.

  ‘What is it?’

  Thellie’s eyes were wide. ‘Is that gold?’ she asked.

  Barbara looked down into the channel. Part of Gully Jack’s stonework had collapsed. A pile of rocks lay tumbled in wet mud and one of them had cracked in two. She could see dark grey specks and bright white quartz, and in the centre a ring of dull yellow.

  ‘It can’t be gold. Things like that don’t happen.’

  ‘I think it’s gold,’ said Thellie with certainty.

  ‘Maybe you’re right. It’s got to be gold, nothing else would gleam like that. A nugget in the rock. Oh, wow, wow!’ Barbara shook her head in disbelief. ‘Gully Jack’s found gold and he doesn’t even know it.’

  ‘We could take it to him!’ Thellie sat on the muddy bank as though she was going to wriggle down.

  ‘No way. You stay just where you are.’ Barbara peered down at the mud and rock below. ‘It’s dangerous. That channel’s going to flood any moment. We’ll have to get him and see if he can…Thellie, no!’

  The ground was moving. Sodden with water, the bank under their feet was slowly collapsing. Barbara flung herself back as her feet tried to follow the subsiding soil.

  ‘Thellie! Are you all right?’ She clambered back to the edge of the channel on her hands and knees. ‘Thellie!’

  ‘Bubba, I fell.’ Thellie’s voice was frightened. Her face was small and white as she peered up.

  ‘Did you hurt yourself?’

  ‘I banged my knee.’

  ‘Is that all? Well, you get up here now. It’s not safe.’

  ‘I can’t. It’s too far up.’

  ‘Heck!’ Barbara lay down on her stomach and stretched out her hand. ‘Come on, I’ll pull you up. Can you grab hold of my hand?’

  Thellie stretched, standing on tiptoe. ‘I can’t reach.’

  ‘Well, climb up then. Come on, it’s not far, and then I’ll grab you.’

  Thellie thrust one small bare foot into the mud. She tried to wedge her fingers into the dampness up above. Her foot slipped as the sodden clay collapsed again.

  ‘Bubba, it won’t stay still.’

  ‘Well, stand on a rock or something.’ Barbara looked around frantically. They needed a rope, or someone with longer arms to pull the child out, but she couldn’t leave Thellie like this to get help, not with the flood and the darkness. There was nothing else for it.

  ‘I’m coming down,’ she called, ‘Look out.’ She aimed for a clear spot below, and jumped.

  The shock of it jarred her. Mud squelched through her toes, around her ankles.

  ‘Okay, you get on my shoulders and I’ll heave you out. All right?’ Barbara tried to get close to the bank, but the fallen rocks and slipping mud were in the way. ‘We’ve got to hurry. Up you go. One, two, three—now grab on to the bank and heave.’

  ‘I can’t.’ Thellie was nearly crying. ‘It’s still too far up.’

  Barbara bent down so Thellie could climb off her shoulders. She put her arm around her, one eye on the foam that swirled above the muddy wall at the end of the channel. Thellie was shivering. ‘It’s all right Thellie. It’s all right. We’ll get out somehow.’ She glanced at the wall at the end of the channel again. Was that water trickling through?

  ‘Bubba! What’s happened?’

  ‘Jim, and Elaine. Thank heavens. Thellie fell and I can’t get her out.’

  Young Jim’s face was grim. He’d seen the trickle of water at the end of the channel too. ‘Heave her up, then I’ll have a go. Thellie, reach out towards me. Hurry, blast it, hurry! Bubba, can’t you get any closer?’

  Barbara shook her head frantically. ‘The bank just keeps collapsing.’

  ‘Struth! It’s no good. This flaming edge’s collapsing even more. Elaine, get Gully Jack. Hurry! Tell him to grab some rope. Run! That wall’s going to go soon.’ He bent down to the channel again, careful not to get too close in case more soil and rock hurtled down below. ‘Are you sure you can’t climb up?’

  Barbara shook her head desperately. How much time did they have before the water flooded in? ‘All the stones are loose, and the walls just collapse when we put any weight on them.’

  ‘Can’t you climb up on one? Look, I’ll see if I can roll a boulder down. Maybe if you or Thellie stand on that.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Don’t go away. I’m scared. Please stay till Elaine gets back.’

  ‘Bubba, it’ll be all right.’ Young Jim looked desperately at the end of the channel. The trickle of water was eating the mud away as it came through in a steady stream. The floodwaters must be tearing at the other side.

  ‘Don’t leave us.’

  ‘Of course I won’t leave. I’ll always look after you. I’ve just got to…oh, here they come. Gully Jack, over here! Hurry!’ Young Jim’s voice was high with relief.

  Gully Jack’s whiskery face appeared over the edge of the channel. His hands looked big and hard and capable.

  ‘You all right down there? You just hold on then and she’ll be right.’ His face disappeared, but his voice floated down, calm and reassuring. ‘I’m just tying the rope to this tree.’ His face came back, framed by the anxious faces of Young Jim and Elaine.

  ‘Right. Now you grab it as it comes down. That’s the girl…now tie it around Thellie’s waist, as fast as you can, but don’t fumble it. That’s the ticket…good. Now lift her up as far as you can. You get the other end, Young Jim. Elaine, you grab it too. Now haul her up. Carefully now.’

  Thellie rose slowly up, out of the channel. The mud grasped at her, trying to suck her in, but the hands above were too strong. She disappeared over the edge.

  Barbara was alone. She leant against the wet wall, waiting for the rope to fall again, almost sobbing with relief. It was going to be okay. She could just see Gully Jack above her, quickly untying the rope from Thellie.

  ‘Gully Jack! Hurry! It’s going!’ It was Young Jim’s voice, choked and desperate.

  Barbara turned. The wall at the end of the channel had vanished. In its place was a wall of water, higher than her head, brown and frothy, crashing down the channel towards her. She could smell it; the stink of flood had taken over the world. She could feel it; a deep vibration through the earth and air.

  Time seemed to change and the world slowed suddenly. The terror was slowed too, seeping through her feet, her legs, her arms. Even if the rope came down now she couldn’t reach for it, she couldn’t move. Terror held her still. Faintly, through the fear, she heard Young Jim above her, his arms stretched uselessly towards her. ‘Bubba…Bubba…hang on.’

  His voice altered. She heard another voice, an older voice, but somehow still the same. ‘Things are different around the corner…around the corner you’ll be safe.’

  She could feel the thunder of the water through her feet. It crashed and bit towards her, but it moved so slowly…everything was slow. Would it take her slowly too…churn her slowly under foam and froth, crash her slowly against the grinding boulders? It couldn’t be happening, not like this. She had to run…she had to move…but there was only one way she could go now.

  ‘Bubba!’ Young Jim’s voice was despairing.

  Barbara shut her eyes.

  chapter twenty-two

  Back Around the Corner

  The water grabbed her, tore her, whirled her deep inside. It battered her, sucked at her and tossed her about. She wanted to scream; she wanted to breathe; she waited for the flood to fill her mouth, her eyes, her lungs, but it wasn’t water, it was something else.

  It was the chaos that had taken her before, but that
time she’d been in control, that time she’d had the corner clear inside her mind. She had to find the corner, the corner at the edge of her mind. She tried to clear her mind, but it was filled with molten colours, shapes, sounds and all the ways the world could turn were twisting in her head…it must be there…it must…

  Suddenly it was clear again. All she had to do was walk, but her feet were lost inside the whirlpool. She couldn’t find them, couldn’t move. How had she moved before? She’d used the strength of terror, she’d harnessed it to her feet. She could feel them now, she could lift them, oh so slowly, the corner was getting closer, nearer all the time.

  Before there had been hands to help her. There were no hands now, although something was pulling her. She recognised it amid the chaos. It was her world, the reality she’d always known was waiting for her, pulling her, taking her back.

  What would she find around the corner now? The demonstration where it all began? The screams, the pain at home. The Gully was home, with Jim and Ma, the family…one more step and she’d be around…somewhere safe around the corner.

  The whirlpool slowed. There were colours again, greens and blues. There were sounds that she could almost hear. One more step and she’d be free of the confusion.

  The world was quiet.

  Then…she heard a bird singing; the creek muttering nearby. A child laughed and called to someone.

  Barbara opened her eyes. The trees were the same, the high dark casaurinas, but these were dusted with pollen, not the sparkle of rain. The sky was a deep clear blue, without a trace of cloud.

  Barbara sat up. Her bones ached. There was mud on her arms, her legs. Her skirt was caked with mud. Dulcie’s skirt…where was Dulcie, and Ma, Young Jim, and Thellie…

  She looked around. The grass along the creek was roughly mown. The trees were sparse, just the casuarinas left along the creek and a few among the swings and seesaws. Beyond the nearest trees she could see the high fence of a tennis court, with brick barbecues beyond, and a block of toilets at the far end of the porch.

  There was no-one near. The child’s voice came again, beyond the tennis court.

  It was real, but she couldn’t let it be real. She wanted to go back to the time before. Somewhere around the corner. All she had to do was go back around the corner. She shut her eyes, and tried to visualise the corner. The bright sunlight turned her eyelids red. She couldn’t concentrate. No matter how hard she tried it wasn’t there. She shut her eyes tighter. It had to be there. But there was no terror, no hands pulling her that final step. This was her world. There was nowhere else to go.

  She opened her eyes and tried to stand up. Her legs were wobbly. What should she do now? Where should she go? Her mind felt thick, as thick as her tongue.

  They were gone. Thellie, the little ones, Ma and Dad and Elaine. Gully Jack was gone, and Dulcie and Young Jim, who’d said that he’d always look after her, he’d always be there, but he was gone as well. Under the hurt and weariness, she felt no surprise. She’d always known, without ever really thinking about it, that her time in the gully was borrowed. She remembered Dad saying he was going to make his own world around the corner, a world for his kids to learn in. She had to make her own world around the corner now. If she could.

  Barbara looked down at her skirt. She had to wash. Wherever she was going, she couldn’t go like this. She looked down at the creek. It was clear and smiling, glittering between its stones, as though it had never roared and thrust and snatched.

  It was strangely difficult to climb down to the water. Her body knew of the danger now. But nothing happened when she touched the surface. It was simply clear and cold and wet. She waded further out and began to wash her legs and arms, to ease the mud from between her toes, to scrub the worst of the mud stains from the skirt.

  A giggle interrupted her. She looked up. There was a child on the bank; a girl with thin blonde hair and dark wide eyes. Her smile was as bright as the sun.

  ‘Thellie!’

  The child blinked. ‘My name’s not Thellie,’ she informed her. She looked down curiously. ‘What’re you doing? How did you get so muddy?’

  ‘In the gully…’ Barbara faltered. There was no gully now. It must have been filled in years before and grass had covered it. There was no mud at all.

  ‘If I got as muddy as that I wouldn’t be allowed to watch TV,’ confided the child. ‘Why are you washing in the creek? Mummy says it’s too cold to swim in the creek now. Why don’t you go home and use the bathroom?’

  ‘I haven’t got a bathroom,’ said Barbara in confusion. She wondered if she should ask what year it was. But the child was probably too young to know and there was no need. It was her time, 1994.

  The child considered. ‘You can use our bathroom,’ she offered. ‘We’ve got two bathrooms now. We got a new one last year. The new one’s got red tiles and…’ She looked around as a tall woman came in sight. ‘Mum, can this girl use our bathroom because she’s muddy and she hasn’t got a bathroom of her own.’

  The woman cast a worried look at Barbara. Barbara could guess what she saw: a strange girl, white-faced and filthy, in a ragged skirt with bare feet and mud-streaked hair.

  ‘Of course she has a bathroom,’ said the woman. ‘Everyone has a bathroom. Come on now, we’ll be late for lunch. Granny’s waiting.’

  ‘But what about the girl?’

  The child was insistent, sensing there was more trouble than a dirty skirt.

  ‘The girl will be all right.’ The woman hesitated as she looked down again. ‘You are all right, aren’t you?’ she asked.

  Barbara shook her head. She didn’t know what to say, how to explain.

  The woman stood, thinking, then came over to the bank. She wore jeans and leather sandals. Her hair was cut fashionably around her face.

  ‘Are you lost? You’re not from round here, are you? Where’s your home?’

  ‘I haven’t got a home.’

  The words faded as she spoke them. She did have a home, they’d promised her she did; home was with the O’Reillys.

  Something was digging into her leg. Something in her pocket. She fished it out. It was the lizard, the tiny wooden water dragon that Young Jim had carved and given her a few hours, and sixty years, ago! She stroked it, remembering. He’d promised her, hadn’t he? It was crazy to hope but there was still one last chance.

  The woman was impatient. ‘Are you visiting someone here then?’

  Barbara tried to think. If only her mind wasn’t so tired.

  ‘Young Jim,’ she said slowly, feeling the dragon warm in her palm. ‘Young Jim O’Reilly.’

  She expected the woman not to know who she was talking about. It was impossible Young Jim should still be here, surely. But the woman seemed to be considering. She looked Barbara up and down again.

  ‘You’re looking for Jim O’Reilly?’ she asked. ‘Do you know him, or do you just want to talk to him?’

  ‘I’m a friend,’ said Barbara firmly. She was sure at least of that.

  The woman was hesitant still. ‘Jim O’Reilly lives in Sydney now,’ she said slowly.

  Would he remember her? He was the only link with security she had. ‘Could you give me his address? His phone number?’

  ‘It’s in the book,’ said the woman dismissively. She seemed about to go. The child tugged her skirt. The woman seemed to reconsider. She turned back to Barbara.

  ‘You won’t find him at home though,’ she admitted. ‘He had an accident three weeks ago.’

  ‘An accident—’

  ‘He broke his hip. He’s in Eastcliff Private Hospital.’

  The child squatted down to look at her again. ‘I’m a friend of Jim’s too,’ she confided. ‘Are you going to visit him?’

  If there was home anywhere in the world it was with Young Jim. ‘If I can get there. Maybe I can get a lift up to the train.’

  The woman looked at her curiously. ‘The train? The train line’s been closed for twenty years.’

  Barbara shook
her head helplessly. ‘Maybe I can hitch a ride then. I don’t know.’

  The small girl looked at her mother. The woman met her eyes, then shrugged. She seemed to come to a decision.

  ‘There’s a bus leaves from the hotel this afternoon. I don’t know what time, you’ll have to ask. It picks up the high school kids. You ask the driver, he’ll drop you at the depot for the Sydney bus.’ She glanced down at her daughter, then back at Barbara. ‘Have you got any money?’ Her mouth tightened. ‘I didn’t think so.’

  She opened her handbag and took out two ten dollar notes and two fives. ‘This’ll get you to town and onto the bus.’ She looked exasperated. ‘I need to have my head read, I really do. You know where the hotel is?’ She took the small girl’s hand firmly, as though determined to lead her away before she found any other disreputable creatures to befriend. ‘Come on, we really have to go.’

  The small girl turned for one last word. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Barbara,’ said Barbara.

  ‘Barbara.’ The child tested it on her tongue. ‘You’ll be seeing Jim then? You say hello from me. Tell him the black cat had kittens and I’ll keep him one.’

  ‘I’ll tell him,’ promised Barbara. ‘What’s your name?’

  The small girl gave one last blinding smile. ‘Sara,’ she recited. ‘My name is Sara Dulcie Ryan.’

  chapter twenty-three

  Searching for Jim

  The bus poured through the tunnel of the night. There was nothing to see except the guideposts flickering through the dark and the broken edges of the highway. The other journey had been in darkness too, but there had been Young Jim warm beside her, and the smell of soap and ash and soot and metal, and the comforting clack-clacking of the train. This was faster, but so much lonelier. Finally, she slept.

  She woke as the bus pulled into the depot in central Sydney. The world seemed grey. There was no fireman to hand her slabs of bread and jam, no kookaburras calling in the distance. A vending machine burped coffee into someone’s cup in the waiting room. A few early cars pulled up at the traffic lights across the road.