The Four Seasons of Lucy McKenzie

by Kirsty Murray

  ‘Why was it amazing?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘Well, back then, people didn’t know what we do now about preparing their properties. There’d been a long drought and no one understood about burning back the undergrowth, clearing gutters and the like. But folk were unlucky too. Those January ’39 fires, they were the worst on record. Burnt millions of hectares. They called it Black Friday, ’cause it was Friday the thirteenth. All the hills around this valley were on fire. The flames leaped from mountain peak to mountain peak. I reckon this house should have exploded from the heat, but someone must have known what they were doing and got it ready before they evacuated, ’cause most everything around it was destroyed but by a miracle the house survived.’

  Lucy took the brochures over to the wicker sofa on the verandah and flipped through the pages. The long lists of things that had to be done to prepare a country property for summer made her glad she lived in the city.

  By the time Aunty Big came home, the sky was splashed with peach and orange. She swept into the house smelling of campfire smoke and oil paint and lit the gas beneath a big pot on the stove. Then she went to the fridge, grabbed a container of soup and tipped it into the pot. Soup again.

  But when Big filled their bowls and Lucy ate her first mouthful, she was rather glad. It had chicken and corn in it and tasted deliciously buttery.

  ‘So, little Lucy,’ said Big. ‘What did you get up to today?’

  ‘Nothing much,’ said Lucy. ‘I read all the brochures that Bob Timmins left and then I finished my book.’

  ‘Are you writing a book?’ asked Big.

  ‘No, I mean I finished reading a book. A big fat book.’

  ‘You sat inside reading all day?’

  Lucy shuffled her feet under the table. ‘No, I sat on the verandah too. That’s what I do when I’m on holidays. Read books.’ She didn’t want to be rude and say ‘because there’s nothing else to do around here.’ Nor did she feel like telling Big that she had climbed Pulpit Rock. It might make Big even more determined to drag her out on one of her painting expeditions.

  ‘Was it a good book?’ asked Big.

  Lucy didn’t meet her gaze. There was something steely and unnerving in the way Big was staring at Lucy.

  ‘I think so,’ said Lucy.

  ‘It was beautiful on the river today. Tomorrow you can come out in the boat with me.’

  ‘Thanks, Aunty Big. But I think I’d rather stay here.’

  ‘You can’t spend all your days cooped up inside. This is the countryside, child. There’s bush to explore and fish to catch and things to do outside on God’s green earth. Claire and Jack were always about the place, catching yabbies, making themselves useful.’

  Lucy felt her temper rising. If she gave this cranky old lady an inch, she was sure to take a mile. ‘I get sunburnt easily and bugs really like to bite me,’ said Lucy. ‘But thanks for inviting me,’ she added hurriedly.

  Big picked up a slice of toast and crumbled it into her soup. They ate the rest of the meal in silence. Lucy took her bowl over to the sink and washed it and her spoon before Big could perform her horrible pre-wash toilet ritual.

  After they’d finished clearing away, Big led Lucy up to the living room.

  ‘No point having a television out here. We can’t get any reception. Can’t be bothered with those satellite dishes.’

  ‘What about DVDs? Do you watch DVDs?’ asked Lucy.

  Big settled down in one of the big armchairs. ‘No, I read,’ she said. ‘You said you like to read.’

  With the lamps glowing warmly, the front room was a little cosier. Lucy and Big settled into the comfy armchairs on either side of the unlit fireplace and opened their books. Lucy found herself grateful to not have to make conversation.

  Lucy’s book was by one of her favourite authors, Diana Wynne Jones, but it was more confusing than the other ones she’d read. It was about a boy called Christopher Chant who visited parallel worlds in his dreams. It made Lucy think about the other Avendale until her head hurt. She didn’t want to believe in magic. It was all right to have it inside books but not inside the house where you slept. Her body was aching with tiredness from the long climb to Pulpit Rock but she didn’t want to go to bed yet. She wasn’t ready for another magical adventure. And yet she wanted to see April and Tom again. She wanted to sit with April on Pulpit Rock with the valley spread out beneath them. She wanted to see Tom laugh again. Were they real people or only figments of her imagination?

  When Lucy looked up to ask Big if she knew anyone called April or Tom, she discovered the old lady had fallen asleep.

  Lucy went to her bedroom and lay down on the pink coverlet. She shut her eyes for what felt like a minute. When she opened them again, someone had switched off all the lights and draped a tartan rug over her, even though she still had her clothes on, even her shoes.

  The room wasn’t as dark now that Bob Timmins had cut back the thick tangle of passionfruit vines outside her window. A bright shaft of moonlight lit the room. She tiptoed to her door and pulled it open. The hall was in darkness except for the pale glow that shone through the fanlight window above the front door. Lucy took a deep breath. She was wide awake but it was the middle of the night. Her skin tingled all over.

  Every nerve in her body was alert. Then she realised it was because she was listening. Listening for the smallest sound, for someone to call out her name.

  And then she heard it – a different sound, a high, shrill noise. Somewhere far away, a voice was calling out ‘Cooee’.

  ‘Cooee!’ There it was again but this time much louder.

  She tiptoed into the hall. Why hadn’t Big woken up too? It was such a clear sound. For a moment, Lucy wondered if someone was lost in the bush above Avendale.

  The door to the dining room was shut and the door handle rattled as she pushed it open. She didn’t have to turn the light on. The room was full of a warm, golden glow. Though the painting of spring lay completely flat, only paint and plaster, the wall to Lucy’s left looked utterly magical.

  Summer was the biggest painting in the room, the only one not interrupted by a door, a window or a fireplace. The vista was down the hill towards the river and upstream to the great river bend. The summer landscape shimmered through a haze of heat. In the far corner of the painting, Lucy saw a flicker of movement. Then she heard the cry again ‘Cooee! Cooee!’

  Inside the painting, a boy was scrambling along the banks of the river to where a boat was tied to a small jetty. Lucy searched the painting for a sign of April but there was no other person in the whole landscape. Who was it? Could it be Jimmy Tiger or was it Tom? If it was Tom, would he remember her? This time, Lucy didn’t hesitate. She put both hands out in front of her and let the warmth of the wall envelop her as she pushed her way into the painting.

  Lady Godivas

  The heat on the other side of the dining-room wall was more intense than the warm summer night of Lucy’s bedroom. The sun was hot on her bare arms and she stumbled on the uneven ground at the top of the hill.

  Everything had changed since her last visit. Agapanthus were in bloom all around the house, clusters of purple explosions. On the edge of a fishpond, a camellia tree was in flower, though the edges of the red petals were scorched by the heat. As Lucy glanced around her, she realised many of the flowers in the garden looked wilted or scorched, from the wild and straggly cosmos to the flaming nasturtiums that scrambled over the paths. Wisteria was in bloom, long blossom draping all around the verandah, and a stand of flame coral trees had no leaves at all, but the burning red flowers flared like fire against the white weatherboard house.

  ‘Lucy!’

  Lucy spun around on her heels to see April standing behind her, her long hair loose around her shoulders.

  ‘Where on earth did you come from?’ she asked. ‘Were you hiding in the orchard? I swear I didn’t see you until a minute ago. It’s very disturbing the way you pop up like that. What are you doing here after all this time?’


  ‘All this time,’ echoed Lucy. ‘It wasn’t that long ago, was it?’

  ‘Nearly six months! Where did you disappear to last year? Me and Tom couldn’t work out what happened to you. We were about to introduce you to Mum and then you were gone. Mum reckoned we’d invented you. You could at least have said goodbye.’

  Lucy opened her mouth to speak but no sensible explanation wanted to come out.

  ‘You’re like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland,’ said April. ‘And you certainly dress as strangely. Are you late for a very important date?’

  Lucy laughed. ‘No. But being here with you again feels a little like being back in Wonderland.’

  ‘So does that make me the Queen or the Mad Hatter? It’s so hot today; it’s enough to make anyone feel nutty. Quick, let’s get down to the river, before my little sister comes out and wants to tag along with us.’

  Lucy felt a pang of pity for April’s little sister. She knew what it was like to be left behind. But April was already racing down through the orchard where the fruit trees were dropping their bounty into the long dry grass.

  The sun rose higher and higher above the trees until there were no shadows along the river flats, only the dappling of sunshine through the gumleaves. The girls bush-bashed their way to the water’s edge.

  ‘That was hot work,’ said April. ‘But it’s no good swimming along here. Let’s head further down the river.’

  April led Lucy along a twisting track through bush that looked impenetrable to Lucy, but April knew every step of the way.

  ‘If we scramble down along the bank, there’s a good swimming spot a little way ahead.’

  When they reached a wide, flat rock that jutted out into the river, April stripped off all her clothes and threw them onto a dry bush where the spiky dead branches held them firmly. She stood naked on the edge of the flat red rock and stretched her arms skywards.

  Then she whooped so her voice echoed against the opposite bank and leaped into the river. Her long blonde hair streamed out behind her and there was a loud splash as she broke the surface and flecks of silver water flew into the air.

  ‘Cooeee,’ she called. ‘Come on in, Lucy. The water’s as warm as a cup of billy tea.’

  Lucy wriggled her toes and looked up and down the river. ‘I don’t have my bathers,’ she called back.

  ‘Who needs bathers? Who’s going to see you any old how? Only me.’

  ‘Isn’t it dangerous swimming in rivers? Aren’t there snares and hidden rocks?’

  ‘Just shut your eyes and jump! I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.’

  ‘Actually, I’m a really good swimmer. I’ve even got my surf-rescue certificate,’ said Lucy.

  ‘Prove it! Save me!’ shouted April and then she disappeared under the water, pretending to drown.

  Slowly, Lucy unbuttoned her shirt and stepped out of her shorts. A warm breeze wafted across the water and kissed her bare skin. April had resurfaced and was treading water in the tea-brown river, her hair floating about her like a fan.

  Lucy shut her eyes and jumped. The water whooshed up, hardly cold at all. Beneath the surface, she opened her eyes. Rays of golden light shot through the sepia-coloured water. Unlike the ocean, the river was silky soft.

  The girls swam upstream until they reached a creek that fed into the river and a wide section of pale gold beach. They waded through the shallows and sat down on the sand.

  ‘This feels a little like being mermaids,’ said Lucy, as she squeezed water out of her hair.

  ‘I think I look more like a banshee,’ said April.

  ‘What’s a banshee?’

  ‘An evil river spirit that lures boys into the water and drowns them!’

  Lucy laughed and stretched out on the sand. It was warm against her bare back and she shut her eyes. The heat of the day lay like a blanket across the bush; not even the birds were making a sound, as if the heat was making them drowsy too. As the girls lay side by side, they could hear the gentle ebb of the river flowing past.

  April sat up. ‘Oh dear,’ she said.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Then Lucy heard it too – a soft, rhythmic splashing noise.

  ‘I think someone’s coming! It’s that cheeky Jimmy Tiger.’

  Lucy jumped to her feet and folded her arms across her body but April ran down into the water and looked along the river.

  ‘He’s still a way off. If we swim fast, we can get back to our clothes before he gets here.’

  ‘But he’ll see us!’ said Lucy.

  ‘We’ll be in the water until we reach the rock and then we can snatch our clothes up, run into the bush and be dressed before he spots us.’

  Lucy waded into the water and struck out, swimming with long, swift, even strokes. April splashed along behind her, using breaststroke to keep her head above water.

  When they swam around the bend in the river, the spiky bush was bare, its dark twiggy branches poking up to the sky without a single scrap of clothing.

  ‘The rat!’ cried April, treading water. ‘He’s stolen our clothes!’

  Lucy’s skin prickled with goosebumps. Why would someone want to steal their clothes?

  ‘C’mon, we’ll have to hide in the bush until he gets bored and then we’ll walk back to Avendale,’ said April.

  ‘We can’t walk naked through the bush,’ said Lucy, scandalised. ‘What if someone sees us?’

  ‘Well, we’ll look like two Lady Godivas. You know, she’s the noble lady that rode naked through the town so that her husband would stop taxing the people so much. It was sort of a dare, I suppose.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a Lady Godiva. I want my clothes back!’ said Lucy.

  ‘There’ll be no one to see us anyway, and you can wait in the orchard while I go and fetch us something to wear. Though it won’t be as nice as that smooth fabric you had on.’

  ‘I can’t see the boat,’ said Lucy. ‘Let’s climb out of the water here and call out to him. He can’t be so horrible as to keep our clothes if we ask nicely for them.’

  ‘You don’t know Jimmy Tiger,’ said April, her eyes blazing with fury.

  But Lucy had made up her mind. She climbed onto a rock and scrambled up into the bush. Where was this annoying boy? She hoped he couldn’t see her. When she was safely behind a flowering grevillea she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out to the wide river ‘We want our clothes back! Please leave them on the riverbank for us and go away!’

  Then a hand clamped over her mouth. ‘Are you mad?’ whispered April, her breath hot in Lucy’s ear. ‘We have to run for it!’ Then April was bolting through the bush, scrambling up into the scrub.

  Lucy stood naked in the middle of the wilderness. What did she know about this boy? Maybe April was scared for a reason. So Lucy ran. Twigs and branches scratched her bare skin as she pushed her way through the undergrowth following April.

  ‘He’s chasing us!’ cried April. ‘Run faster!’

  Lucy wanted to stop and listen – she thought she could hear someone shouting at them – but April sped onwards. Suddenly, April dropped out of view and Lucy heard her scream.

  Lucy skidded on some loose rocks and teetered on the edge of a small ravine. She looked down and saw April lying at the bottom of the ravine in a creek, splashed with mud.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Lucy.

  April sat up and rubbed her head. Her long hair was full of leaves and twigs. Sitting crouched at the bottom of the ravine with silvery creek water running over her body she looked like a real bush sprite.

  Lucy climbed down to sit beside her in the shallow creek. It was a relief to feel the cool creek water wash over her scratched legs. She put her arm around April’s shoulder and gave her a hug. ‘You haven’t broken any bones have you?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ said April, blushing. ‘I’m not usually this clumsy. It was fretting about that Jimmy Tiger seeing me that made me bolt.’

  ‘I think you were right about him following us. I t
hought I heard someone crashing through the bush behind us,’ said Lucy. ‘Should we be scared?’

  ‘No, he’s not mean. He’s only cheeky and a little disgraceful.’

  Then a handkerchief came sailing out of the bush and floated down to land on the edge of the creek.

  Both girls looked up at once but they could see no one. As if from nowhere, another piece of clothing came flying into the ravine.

  ‘That’s my shirt!’ said April, picking up the crumpled fabric.

  ‘And they’re my shorts,’ said Lucy, lifting the pink shorts from a branch.

  Piece by piece their clothes came flying through the air to land in the ravine, but they couldn’t see the hand of the person who threw them. Lastly their sandals landed in the creek with a splash.

  ‘Coo-eee,’ came a voice. ‘You two down there! Are you decent yet?’

  Lucy and April pulled on their clothing as quickly as they could.

  ‘We are now!’ called April.

  As soon as she’d spoken, a head appeared at the top of the ravine. It belonged to a boy with bright blue eyes and a spray of pale freckles across his face. His hair was thick and curly and as bright as copper wire. It made a halo around his head against the blue summer sky.

  ‘Why did you bolt like crazy brumbies? I was only having a lend of you.’

  April stood up, her hands on her hips. ‘You make me feel crazy, Jimmy Tiger.’

  ‘C’mon! I thought I was rescuing you! I was bringing you lot your clothes. To save you swimming back for ’em. I was gonna chuck them in the water and tell you to come and have a swim with me down at the swimming tree.’

  ‘Swim with you!’ said April, her face blazing red. ‘You steal our clothes and then you think we’ll want to go and swim with you? You’re crackers!’

  ‘It’s as hot as Hades, but I’ll do all the rowing. You know the swimming tree is the best waterhole on Broken River. I’ve got a box full of tucker too. Biscuits and a bag of cherries from your mum’s tree. But who’s your friend?’ asked Jimmy Tiger. ‘How come you got a friend I don’t know about? I thought I was your best friend, even if I’m not your sweetheart!’