by Janeen Brian
I stood for several minutes, then slowly, I turned around.
Was I quitting? Or making a decision? I took one step and then another. Without a word, Elsie fell into line alongside.
A moment later, I grabbed her arm. “I know a short cut. We’d better run!”
It was fun to have someone to race with again. But Elsie reached the school just as the bell ringer walked back inside.
“Not fair!” I cried, following up behind. “I’ve got stuff to carry.”
“Your fault!” She looked over her shoulder, laughed and disappeared inside.
I remembered what lay in wait in that classroom. But I took a breath and hurried forwards. In my haste, I tripped and fell over the iron bar that served as a boot scraper on muddy days. The sack was flung to one side as pain speared through my wrist and elbow. My cheek and forehead were grazed and my head thudded from the shock. Scrambling to my feet, I shoved everything back into the sack.
After brushing myself down and removing my cap, I stepped shakily inside the school.
Mr Skinner was writing at the blackboard. He eyed me over his glasses.
“Do you have an excuse, Pollock?”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Sorry is neither an excuse nor a reason.”
Catching Elsie’s eye, I drew back my shoulders a little, determined to be brave. “I wasn’t very late, sir.”
“Late is late, Pollock. And insolence is insolence.” The cane that’d been on his desk was soon stinging the back of my legs. “You are no prize pupil, Pollock. You are incapable of writing with God’s chosen hand and I will write to your parents and inform them of your poor work and attitude. Now get to your seat.”
Ignoring Willie Ryan and his hideous grin, I shifted forwards on the seat so it wouldn’t touch the tingling flesh behind my knees. I felt the familiar pull as Elsie tied up my hand.
“Remember, we’ll do lots of practising,” she whispered before sitting down.
Perhaps my hand didn’t shake quite as much. Perhaps the writing wasn’t as wobbly, but the change wasn’t obvious to Mr Skinner.
Seemingly, nothing was different. Except that the schoolmaster gave me a letter to take home to Mam and Da.
That afternoon, after telling Elsie where I was going, I rushed off to the post office.
The lady shook her head, adding that perhaps there was someone I could write to and find out Gilbert’s address.
“No,” I said. There was no one.
“Then did you want me to post that one for you?”
I stood puzzled, until I realised I had the letter from Mr Skinner in my hand.
“No, that’s all right, thank you,” I said, wishing in my heart that I could send it up a chimney.
It was stifling in the kitchen at home. Mam’s face was the colour of the geraniums by the gate and Arthur was grizzling in the wash tub.
“Does he have to be tied up?”
“Yes, Jack. Sometimes. Else I be chasing after him all day. Now, have a drink and tell me about your school day. Did they like seeing the treasures in the tin?”
So much had happened that day that, for a moment, I hadn’t a clue what Mam was talking about.
“Oh, the treasures, yes.” I nodded, suddenly remembering. “I’ll put them back now.” I squirrelled the sack out of sight, calling out to Dorrie on the way. Luckily, I also remembered the letter that I’d written to Mam and Da. I grabbed it from beneath the pillow and gave it to Gertie to enjoy as I milked her.
The other letter lay on my bed until I grew game enough to open it. Mr Skinner spoke so badly of me, I wondered if Miss Goldsworthy would recognise that we were one and the same person. At the end, the schoolmaster wrote that he expected to see my parents for a talk before the week was up.
It was like falling into one shaft after another.
Chapter 28
After folding Mr Skinner’s letter back into its envelope, I slid it among the pages of Gilbert’s letter and hid it once more, behind the photograph in the parlour.
I had no heart to write anything more to my friend. It’d been months and no word from him. Maybe he never planned to write after all. I didn’t want to believe that, but what else could I think? Gilbert would’ve known I’d want to hear from him.
After tea, I flopped onto my bed, not bothering to slide beneath a sheet. The stone walls, so cool to start with, had warmed with the continued hot weather. Now the room was warm as well. I twisted and turned, restless and uncomfortable, until finally I fell asleep.
Sometime during the night, I felt my shoulders being shaken.
“Wake up, for God’s sake, Jack!”
Befuddled, I rose up on my elbows. Where was I supposed to be? Was I going down the mine with Da again? I balked, mumbling about not wanting to go.
“Stop this tomfoolery, lad, and get dressed. ’Tis Dorrie. Your sister be taken bad. Hurry. Take this lantern.”
“Won’t Mrs Ellery mind being woken up in the middle of the night, Da?”
“It’s not Mrs Ellery we need. It be Dr Hughes. Dorrie’s full of spots, rose-coloured, and she’s burning up something terrible. We need him.”
“But Mam never wants a doctor …” I began as Da hurried me towards the back door. “Do we have money?”
“Forget that, Jack. Forget everything except that your sister might die. Your mam is with her now, desperate, and I need to stay with her and Arthur. You have to go, Jack.”
We went outside beneath a moonless sky.
“I’ve never been to the doctor’s, Da,” I said, panic rising. “Isn’t he in Moonta?”
“No, that be his surgery. You need to go to his house.” He pointed. “Head on over the paddocks, way beyond Moonta Mines, keep south and away from the cliffs. His house is on a rise. There’ll be a light. I’m told he keeps one on all night. Now go.”
I heard the door slam before I’d taken more than a few steps. Beyond the front gate lay darkness. I turned southwards and headed in and out of the cottages. The tracks were familiar. It was easy to run along that part. I kept up a steady pace, confident I’d get to the doctor’s in no time at that speed. But when the tracks around the cottages fell away, a lump rose in my throat. Now there was only an odd cottage or two, or a makeshift tent like the one Willie Ryan and his father camped in, but there were no roads, just meandering tracks that started and then disappeared.
The lantern light bobbed in front of me as I ran, slower now, more cautious. Paddocks were full of stones, rocks, dips and small rises, which, if I wasn’t careful, could upset my stride.
I picked my way like a nanny goat over rocks, grateful that I was surefooted. Soon, I began to wonder about Dorrie. I’d never seen Da so agitated. The possibility that Dorrie could die struck me. My stomach went into a tight knot and I quickened my pace.
Mam said Dorrie had a cold. So why did she now have spots? And why did Da tell me they were rose-coloured as if that was important?
There were so many things I didn’t know. Like how the bits of skull in my treasure tin had once been joined. Or how my mam got a baby in her belly. And how it would come out. Or why Arthur’s cheeks flamed when he got a new tooth. And how the marks on my right hand turned into thin shiny scars. It gave me something good and solid to think about. Then it dawned on me. Those were the kinds of things that interested me, deep down in my head and my heart. And, at that moment, I was sure they always would.
I began to pant. It was good to hear the noise of my own breath hurrying in and out, taking me closer to the doctor’s. However, because I kept the lantern light close, I didn’t notice at first that the few stars in the sky were disappearing behind thickening clouds. I ran on, unaware that without moon or stars and without a single street or house light, the world around me was now as black as the inside of a cow. That’s how Da would describe it.
My right hand began to ache from carrying the lantern up high. I didn’t know how much further I had to go, but I decided to swap hands. In that instant, my boot swivelled on a
round rock. My ankle gave a sharp twist and with a cry, I fell to the ground. With a sickening crunch, the lantern glass smashed to pieces. My only light disappeared.
I was in absolute darkness.
For several minutes, I lay there, too frightened to move. Around me, somewhere amid the tufty grass, were shards of glass. Worse than that was the thought of standing. Because when I stood up, I’d have to start again. I’d have to reach the doctor’s house, a place I’d never been in daylight, let alone at night.
Slowly, I rose, pushing myself up by my fingertips.
“Ow!” A piece of glass slid into my forefinger. The pain was immediate and I soon felt the trickle of blood. I pulled at the glass, flinching when it came out. I sucked my finger, tasting blood and wishing with all my heart that I was somewhere else.
I left the lantern where it’d fallen and went to walk on. But realised that because of the fall and hobbling about on a sore ankle, I might have accidentally changed direction. Maybe I was now no longer facing south. Nervously, I pressed my thumb against my bloodied finger.
Keep south and away from the cliffs, Da had said. How did I know where the cliffs were now? The thought of what could happen if I strode on filled me with terror.
Keeping low so I could trail my hands from time to time along the ground, I continued, sniffing the air and hoping that a salty smell might warn me of ocean cliffs. My heart thudded. I had needed to hurry for Dorrie’s sake but now I was slowed down. There was no choice but to go on and keep a sharp lookout for any sign of light. I widened my eyes, trying to see through the blackness.
There was no salt smell. I was sure of it. It was all right to move quicker. I had to move quicker. I didn’t dare run though. The best I could do was lope, waving my hands before me, like the antennae of an ant.
It was soon after that that my foot slid.
I was catapulted forwards. My head struck something.
But there was nothing beneath my feet.
I didn’t so much drop, as crash downwards, screaming as my hands and knuckles scraped against rock and earth.
I tensed up tight, ready for everything to stop.
When it did, when I reached the bottom of the pit, pain shot through my ankles and arms and back. The air froze in my lungs. Then I gasped and coughed till I threw up.
But I was alive.
I knew I should yell, but who would hear me? The darkness had already filled my nostrils with its earthy underground smell. There were no shadows. No flickering lights. Not even stars. I was cut off from the world and once again the grim fear began to close in on me. The cave gloom of the mines. The pressing down of dark, pushing into my ears and mouth, forcing down a terror so it coiled tight and hard in my stomach. I stayed like that for what seemed a long time. Afraid to uncurl. All alone with my fear.
Chapter 29
It was quiet. I was alive but the quietness was as if I was dead. I began to shudder.
My eyes grew wet and I didn’t bother wiping away the tears. I sat there like a wounded animal, unable to think of any plan. I had no answer. I was down a pit miles from anywhere. If Da set out to look, what chance did he have of finding me? I couldn’t see my own hands in front of me let alone see to get out.
I hadn’t helped Dorrie. If something happened to her, it would be my fault. Da had relied on me. He thought I could get the doctor for my sister, but I couldn’t even do that. I’d been stupid. I should’ve taken more care.
What would happen if Dorrie died?
I put my head in my hands and wept. For my sister. For Mam and Da. My body folded in a heap as if I had no bones and I cried the tears that had been brewing for weeks. I scraped some earth into my fist and felt the snot run from my nose. I lay there, sobbing, until I had nothing left. At last, I drew myself up and dragged my sleeve across my nose. And there I sat, knees hunched, staring into the darkness.
Tentatively, I stretched one hand out and felt around. It moved through air. Nothing more. I kneeled up and stretched it further until I touched the grit of the wall face. I ran my fingers across the lumpy soil and rocks. I was touching the dark. The terrible, closing-in dark. Perhaps I was pushing it back.
I stood slowly, trembling, and began to feel my way around the base. When my hand touched a jutting rock about shoulder height, I pulled on it, testing its strength. I felt for another and found one not too far from the first. I tightened my grip, prayed the rocks wouldn’t slip, and began to drag myself upwards.
It took all my strength to climb a short distance without slipping. I heard myself grunting. I scrunched my face and stretched my mouth back as I struggled to hang on. As I searched for the next firm rock. What if I didn’t make it? What if it was too far to the opening? And when one foot shot from under me, I gasped and sweated with panic. And yet, I was moving. If I could just keep moving. Forget about the blackness. Go slowly and carefully, I told myself.
Soon the blackness turned to greyness. Surely that was a sign I was close to the top of the hole. I had to be extra careful. One false move and I’d be flung back to the bottom. I heard the sound of my own breathing, loud like the panting of a wild animal.
I was wrung out, exhausted, but I thought of Dorrie and stretched one arm until it seemed like it would come out of its socket. And then! My fingers felt the edge. I was near the top. I shouted with joy. With one last supreme effort, I heaved myself up and over the edge. Then I quickly rolled away and collapsed onto my back.
My arms and legs flopped like dead weights into a wide star shape.
I was safe.
The next moment, I felt something wet on my face. I leaned up on my elbows. A drop. Then another. It was raining. Thunder rolled around like applause and a jagged stroke of lightning lit up the land ahead.
I squinted in the rain. Was I seeing things or was that a glow in the distance? As raindrops washed away my tears, I trudged forwards. It had to be, I kept saying in my head. It had to be the doctor’s house. Please let it be the doctor’s house. My feet felt feather-light as I made the last stretch towards it. I rang the bell, a strong clanging sound that echoed with my relief and happiness.
But had I made it in time?
No more than a couple of minutes passed before the door opened and Dr Hughes appeared. “Good heavens, boy. What’s happened to you? Come in, Come in.” For a second I was taken aback. Wearing a crumpled dressing-gown and with ruffled white hair, the doctor looked like an ordinary old man.
Wet and bedraggled, I took a couple of steps into the porch.
“Are you Dr Hughes?” I blurted, wiping my face roughly.
“I am. And you are?”
“I’m Jack Pollock. But it’s my sister who needs help. Da sent me ’cos she’s very sick and Mam thinks she’s going to die. She’s burning and got spots. Rose-coloured.”
Dr Hughes swept his hair from his eyes and put a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Wait there a moment, Jack. I’ll change and get my bag. Sit down, lad, sit down. You look ill yourself.”
I perched on a wooden seat. Then I stood awkwardly while water trickled down my neck and back.
“I’m sorry …” I said, pointing at the wet floor, when the doctor reappeared a short time later.
“Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Come on, Jack, we have to hurry.” Taking hold of my shoulder, he bustled me outside and told me to carry the lantern.
“Where’s yours?” he asked, looking about.
“It broke.”
“Lord,” he said. “And you found your way here in the dark? You’re a brave lad, no denying it. Now let’s get to your sister.”
Only once the horse was harnessed and the doctor and I were heading towards the house did I allow myself to relax. I sank into the soft leather seat of the carriage and struggled to stay awake.
Da was waiting out the front. He shook hands with the doctor and ushered him inside. “Mind your head, Doctor,” he said, leading the way to Dorrie’s room.
I followed. What had happened? Was Dorrie all r
ight?
“This be my wife, Cordelia,” said Da. “Cordelia, this be Dr Hughes. He’s come to help Dorrie get better.”
I sensed something in Da’s tone. It was too bright. Too cheerful. I bit my lip. Were we too late?
I stood at the doorway, peering in at Dorrie.
She lay still. She was flushed and covered in spots. Mam was beside her on the bed, stroking her hair and looking anxiously up at the doctor.
“So this is Dorrie,” Dr Hughes said gently as he opened his bag. He felt Dorrie’s forehead and said to Mam, “How long has she been as warm as this, Mrs Pollock?”
Mam shot Da a glance. “Oh, it be getting worse since before we went to bed last night, Doctor. She was hot yesterday, but she kept saying how her head hurt. Then it be her stomach. And then …” Mam stopped and lowered her head.
“It’s all right, Mrs Pollock. And you’ve been keeping her cool?”
“I been wiping her forehead and Mr Pollock’s been fanning her,” Mam managed to say.
I stared at the doctor’s bag. Inside were all sorts of metal instruments. Why didn’t he give Dorrie some medicine? Surely, he’d have something in his bag.
“Good, good,” said Dr Hughes. “But she’s very hot, isn’t she? I think we need to take the sheet right off.” He raised her nightgown. “Ah, yes. More spots. I see.”
I could hardly stand. My head was spinning with tiredness and I ached all over. But I couldn’t go to bed. I wouldn’t leave while Dorrie was like this.
Dorrie began to moan and her head moved from side to side. Sometimes her eyes opened but it gave me the horrors. It was as if she wasn’t seeing anything or anyone.
Do something, I wanted to shout.
Mam went to speak. “Is it … is it typhoid, Doctor?”
“Yes, Mrs Pollock, I believe it is.”
Mam gave a sob.
No. It can’t be. That’s what my brother and sisters died of. “Da?” I felt my face crumple as I looked pleadingly at my father. He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it. His mouth was working, but he wasn’t saying anything.
