Before the Storm

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Were there other people around?’ Ellie asked. ‘Oh, this is awful. Are they locals?’

  ‘I don’t believe so. Anyway, get dressed now, warm gear and sturdy shoes. We might need to help with the search. I’ll get a quick breakfast going.’ He hurried from the room.

  ‘No. You can’t come, Sam,’ said Ellie as the dog looked hopeful at the idea of an early morning walk. ‘Oh damn, I only have running shoes. They’ll have to do. Raincoat. Wool scarf. No idea what the weather is doing today. Quick shower,’ Ellie said aloud, as if checking items on a list.

  The local ABC radio news was on and the kitchen was cosy when she walked in, the smell of toast all pervading. It felt safe.

  ‘Poor little kid must be petrified. Anything on the news?’ asked Ellie, reaching for the Vegemite.

  ‘Only a brief mention; I suppose they don’t know much yet. Hopefully he’ll be found quickly. Sergeant Lyons said the family is from out of town, camping up there. One of the parents woke in the night and discovered the boy was missing from his sleeping bag. Crawled out of the tent, they assume, to go for a pee maybe.’

  ‘Wouldn’t his parents have heard him moving around?’

  ‘His sleeping bag was close to the tent flap, which wasn’t zipped down all the way, so it sounds like he squeezed through without making any noise. That’s all I know. C’mon. Bring your phone. The reception is dodgy up there but you never know. Plus you can take some photos for the paper.’

  ‘Have you rung Jon and Maggie?’

  ‘Not yet; could be all over by the time we get up there. Jon won’t get his wheelchair off the path anyway as the campsite is in the middle of the bush.’

  ‘That’s right, of course. Well, the camera on my phone is pretty good.’ Ellie downed her tea. ‘Has Sam been out?’ When Patrick nodded she handed an inch of her toast crust to the dog, pulled a cap on her head and collected her backpack.

  ‘Right, let’s go,’ Patrick said. ‘We’ll take my car. I think it’ll be better than yours once we hit the rough roads into the national park.’

  ‘Sam, you stay and guard. Be a good boy.’ Ellie closed the door behind them all and patted Sam as he watched them leave.

  It was a forty-minute drive into the ruggedly beautiful hills towards the national park, which was popular for hiking, spectacular views, camping and birdwatching. It was raining lightly, the windscreen wipers swishing rhythmically, and Ellie shivered, imagining the little boy out in the cold, wet weather.

  ‘Would’ve been chilly overnight. Hope he had warm PJs on and found somewhere to shelter,’ said Patrick as he drove.

  ‘It’d be pretty easy country to wander off and get lost in, as I recall,’ said Ellie.

  Patrick was quiet for a moment.

  ‘It’s the great Australian fear: “Lost in the Bush”, everyone’s horror story since whitefellas lobbed in here. Paintings, stories, books, movies, all based on a child or children lost in the great Australian wilderness outside the back door.’

  ‘And so it goes on,’ said Ellie quietly. ‘I remember seeing a picture in a book of that Frederick McCubbin painting of the lost child in the bush, a little girl holding wildflowers in her apron, huge eucalypts towering over her. It gave me nightmares.’

  ‘Yes. The lost children. Applies to the stolen generations too. Children separated from family. It’s a tragedy no matter what the circumstances. Do you know the story of the Cooper-Duff kids?’ asked Patrick. ‘I came across a reference to it one time.’

  ‘No. Who were they?’

  ‘It was around the Horsham area in the 1800s. Three kids went missing in the bush. They lived in a shepherd’s hut; very remote country. The eldest was a boy of about nine, the younger boy about the same age as this missing kid, four. The sister in the middle was seven. The story goes that they went out to cut reeds for their mother to make a new broom to sweep the mud floor. Somehow they got lost.’

  ‘Oh no. What happened? Were they ever found?’

  ‘They had a mob come and search, following their tracks, but then there was a thunderstorm that washed the footprints away. So they called in Aboriginal trackers. Nine days passed while all this happened.’

  ‘Nine! Oh no!’

  ‘In spite of the rain, the trackers were able to pick up signs of the children. And then they found them. The older children had been carrying their little brother on their backs. The girl had been using her dress to cover them at night when they slept with the youngest between them. They were in bad shape, emaciated.’

  ‘How had they survived?’

  ‘I wondered about that too. The story I read didn’t give those details. The girl, Jane, was made something of a heroine for looking after her brothers.’

  As they pulled into the camping ground car park, Ellie saw that the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared, and the sun was now shining on the damp leaves and forest floor. There was a small crowd of volunteers gathered around, listening to a police officer while an ambulance team waited nearby and SES crew members were looking at maps or preparing equipment. As Patrick and Ellie walked towards the group, more cars drove into the parking lot.

  Patrick went over to shake the hand of one of the police officers he knew, and Ellie glanced at some people who were looking after a distressed couple, clearly the parents. The mother was about her own age, and the father had his arm around her, his face pale and drawn.

  ‘Please, I need to go with you. I’ve got to find my boy,’ the father was saying.

  Two searchers nodded, one of them reassuring him.

  ‘Sure thing. We’re just getting coordinates so we know where no one has been yet. There’s a bunch of people out there already. We’ll do everything we possibly can, mate.’

  ‘His name is Peter,’ the tearful mother said to those who had just arrived.

  ‘The site where the family was camping is over there,’ the coordinator explained, pointing to a map spread out on the ground in front of him, ‘and the hiking trails start there: one to the lake, one to the top of the hill overlooking the valley. We’ll divide into groups . . .’

  As she was listening to him, Ellie felt a tap on her shoulder.

  ‘Hi, Ellie. It’s nice to see you, if in unfortunate circumstances.’

  Ellie looked up to see a slightly scruffy man dressed in hiking boots and carrying a small backpack. It took her a moment to place him, but then she remembered.

  ‘Tommy, hello, I almost didn’t recognise you away from the bookshop. Yes, it’s terrible.’ She gestured towards his backpack and boots. ‘You came prepared.’

  ‘I was a Boy Scout, back in the day. I know this area pretty well, so I drove here as soon as I heard the news from a friend. It’s rugged in places. Lot of caves and crevices and gullies.’

  ‘I suppose a little kid could crawl in anywhere if he’s scared,’ said Ellie. ‘Do you hike around here much?’ She could only picture Tommy sitting in his armchair at Tommy’s Treasures, reading a book, waiting for a customer.

  ‘Yes, I do. Nature is a good antidote to mind-wandering from a seated position.’

  ‘Mind-wandering,’ she repeated. ‘Reading, I take it? I like it.’

  ‘Do you want to be in my group?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘Sure. I’m ready to do as I’m told,’ she said as Patrick joined them, nodding a greeting at Tommy.

  A dog handler brought one of the sniffer dogs over to the parents and talked quietly to them. As instructed, the father gently eased their son’s jacket from his wife’s grip, to let the dog smell it.

  Ellie’s heart twisted. ‘What awful thoughts must be going through those poor parents’ minds,’ she whispered to Patrick.

  ‘Think about their reunion with the boy,’ said Patrick. ‘Do you want to take some notes, details, names and such, or shall I?’

  ‘It feels so invasive; I don’t think I can. You do it, you know m
ore of them than I do.’

  Ellie looked around at the swelling group of volunteers, recognising the barista from a café in town, and shopkeepers and locals she knew by sight and casual conversation. Steve and Cassie, Nino the fisherman, and several others from the caravan park were in a group, and she spotted James from the Garden Cottage.

  ‘You up for this, love?’ asked Patrick.

  ‘Yes, I’ll go with Tommy’s group. Don’t worry about me,’ Ellie said.

  ‘Right. I’ll stay back here. If there’s any news and you have any reception, call me straight away. Good luck.’ Patrick reached out and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze.

  Ellie joined Tommy’s small group of two women and three men and they quickly introduced themselves. One of them was an SES volunteer who knew the area. Ellie listened quietly as they were given directions to a targeted area and instructions on how far apart to walk and how to communicate; the do’s and don’ts. She checked that her water bottle was full and put it back in her pack, and took the whistle Tommy handed her.

  They spread out in the undergrowth among the trees, following a pattern, beating the ground, lifting branches and ground cover, the calls and sounds from the other searchers echoing around them. The area was thickly forested and it was easy to lose sight of one another. But some distance away the bright red jacket of Pam, another volunteer in her group, flashed in and out of Ellie’s peripheral vision. With every step Ellie strained to hear the sound of a child’s call, willing the small boy to reveal himself.

  They came out through a stand of trees to a clearing where they could see the still waters of the lake ahead. A couple of boats were out in the middle, and black-clad police divers surfaced next to them. Ellie saw one of the divers shake his head.

  By midday the sun was high and hot. They returned to the checkpoint and Ellie was stunned to see how the crowd had swelled. A sense of urgency and concern was palpable. She spotted Sally and a TV news crew, and Ben was standing nearby with his arms folded, listening at the edge of one group.

  Ellie went over to Sally, who was recording comments and information from the police.

  ‘Have they found any trace of him?’ she asked quietly.

  Sally shook her head. ‘Nothing. But the police think he has wandered off rather than been taken. They’re being cautious; they can’t rule out abduction, but they think it unlikely.’

  ‘So hard for the family,’ said Ellie. ‘Have you spoken to them?’

  ‘The police are keeping them sheltered, no media. I heard that their names are Mia and Luke Jensen but I

  don’t know much more at this stage.’

  ‘I wonder where they’re from?’ said Ellie.

  ‘They’re here on holidays. From Horsham I was told,’ said Sally. Her phone started ringing. ‘Oops, I have to go.’

  Ellie stared after her as Sally hurried off to take the call, and then saw that her own group was getting ready to set out again. Quickly she looked around for her grandfather and saw him talking to an older SES volunteer.

  ‘Poppy, you know the story you told me about the Cooper-Duff children? Well, this little boy’s family is from Horsham. Hope we have a happy ending too.’

  Patrick smiled gently. ‘Yes, indeed.’ He glanced around. ‘There’s Meredith. I’ll go and talk to her. Take care, love.’

  As the afternoon wore on, a sense of controlled despera­tion took hold, and this feeling only intensified when they heard the sound of a helicopter whirring above them.

  A coffee truck from Storm Harbour arrived, as well as a group from the local Sikh community, who Ellie remembered reading about in the Chronicle after they had given up dozens of volunteer hours to feed the CFA and local community during the bushfires one year. They set up a station providing hot food for the search parties when they came back to the base camp.

  After a quick break to rest, Ellie and her group listened to the latest instructions and prepared to resume their search. She did a circuit of the camping ground to take photos and capture the activity at the checkpoint for the paper. Then she hurried back towards her group just as they set off and were disappearing among the trees. She could hear Tommy already calling out, ‘Peter.’

  She signalled to Pam that she was back in position as they headed down a gully in a different direction from the track the search parties had taken that morning. In seconds Pam was obscured by the trees.

  After a few minutes Ellie emerged into a small clearing, noticing a faint track made by animals ahead of her. A branch cracked nearby and her heart leaped. She was about to call out, but then came the sound of voices. This was not a child; the voices were male and angry.

  She stopped and leaned against a boulder, listening. When she crept forward around the rock and looked down into the gully below, she was shocked to see Ronan standing there, his face flushed, his angry tone evident even though she couldn’t make out the words. Then someone moved forward, shaking his hand at Ronan, who swatted it away. Ellie inhaled sharply. It was Ben.

  Why were the brothers there, arguing, when a child was missing?

  If she’d witnessed this anywhere else, Ellie would have walked away. Here she suddenly felt vulnerable and alone.

  She shrank down behind the boulder, straining to hear but not be seen. She was too far away to catch what they were saying. Eventually, the men moved away.

  As Ellie watched Ronan’s retreating back, her pulse quickened and her breath came in short gasps. But before she became overwhelmed by the familiar nightmare of anxiety, she closed her eyes and pressed her palms against the granite. No, Ellie, no more, she admonished herself. No. It’s over. You are safe. You have a beloved family and a dear old dog waiting for you, while somewhere close there is a small frightened boy who needs your help. Snap out of it.

  Feeling suddenly determined, Ellie turned, grasping a green branch to heave herself back up the slope and around the boulder, but it bent and sprang back, whipping her shoulder. She stumbled and slipped, hitting her arm. Wincing from the sharp crack to her elbow, she stopped and gingerly pressed her arm with her fingers. A sharp pain spiked through her. She realised she would have to go back to the base camp and have it seen to.

  She dragged herself upright and found a sturdy stick to help her up the slope. Back at the top, she spotted Pam in the distance.

  ‘Pam, I’m going back,’ she shouted. ‘I hurt my arm!’

  ‘Do you need help?’ came Pam’s voice through the trees.

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll be fine. Good luck!’

  But after ten minutes of struggling, Ellie was forced to take a rest. She saw another large rock and sat down as the searchers’ voices and calls faded into the distance. The soft sounds of the forest, and its silence, were calming. Her fears dissipated, her breathing slowed and she felt oddly comforted. Watched over. The forest was no longer fearful, but benign.

  She thought briefly about what she’d seen between the O’Neill brothers in the gully. She resolved to tell Patrick when this was all over, but decided to put it out of her mind for now. There were more important things to focus on today.

  She drew a deep breath, wishing that the small boy would feel some sense of the comfort and protection she felt at this moment. Then she pushed on. Her elbow was throbbing; she hoped she hadn’t done any serious damage.

  Back at the camping ground, a paramedic strapped her elbow for support. ‘There you go. It’s not serious, just bruised,’ the woman said, giving Ellie a smile. ‘Just take it easy.’

  ‘Okay, thanks. Can I join the search again?’

  ‘Sure. Go carefully, but you should be fine.’

  Ellie thanked the woman and began to walk back towards the main group just as a familiar voice called to her.

  ‘Hey, Ellie, are you okay?’

  She turned towards the car park to see Dave climbing out of a battered-looking van with a surfboard on the roof. He hurri
ed over to her, an anxious expression on his face.

  ‘Yeah, I just banged my elbow against a rock. It’s fine. You going out searching?’

  ‘Yes. Bloody awful. Poor little kid. I was out on the boat and didn’t know about this till after lunch. Then I came straight away,’ he said, looking around. ‘I’ll go and find out about joining in the search. Be careful, Ellie.’

  Ellie gave Dave a quick wave then noticed her grandfather sitting on a fold-up chair under some trees, with Roly seated next to him on an upturned plastic crate.

  ‘Ellie, what have you done?’ Patrick jumped up when he saw her coming towards him.

  ‘I just fell and hurt my elbow. Nothing serious, Poppy. Hi, Roly. You’re not planning to search out there, are you?’ said Ellie. ‘It’s a bit rocky on the tracks.’

  Roly shook his head. ‘No, I came to see if I can offer any moral support and practical help around the campsite. I got a lift up with Reverend Turner. He came to see the family.’

  Ellie glanced at Patrick. ‘Oh dear. That sounds ominous. But there are still places we haven’t searched.’

  ‘I know, my dear. Let’s stay optimistic,’ Roly said.

  ‘I might just go and take some more photos before the light goes,’ said Ellie. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

  Walking around the camp area, she noticed Sally sitting close to Ben, the pair deep in conversation. Ronan was nowhere to be seen. Ellie decided not to interrupt but kept moving, taking photos as best she could with one strapped arm while breathing in the atmosphere of tension and fear. People were huddled in small groups, volunteers were being briefed, and the number of police and paramedics seemed to have swelled.

  The parents of the missing boy, Mia and Luke Jensen, were with Meredith and a man Ellie assumed was the reverend, as well as a woman Ellie could see was with the Red Cross. She noticed how pale and quiet the parents were, and she thought about the feeling she’d had in the bush. The calmness, the serenity. It’s not scary, the forest is wrapping its arms around him, keeping him safe, she thought. I just know it. ‘We’ll find him and he’ll be okay,’ Ellie said softly to herself.