‘But if the fire was that big …’
‘There’s always fires when it’s dry.’
‘But Mr Akbar …’
‘Peanuts,’ said Price.
Despite her worry about Dad, Audrey giggled. ‘Can I ask you one more question?’
‘If you keep digging.’
Audrey scraped half-heartedly at the sandy soil with the shovel. ‘What will happen if Dad … if he doesn’t come home?’
Price’s bottom lip seemed to quiver. Just for a second. Then it stopped. ‘I guess we’d have to grow up in a hurry.’
‘Can we do that? Being a grown-up is hard. And I’ve still got girl things to do.’
Price shrugged. He didn’t know what else to say.
Neither did Audrey.
‘I’ve got a story to tell you.’
Twenty-five
Audrey placed both hands on the trunk of a gum tree. She put her face close to the bark and blew gently. No possum hair floated up.
‘This tree is empty, Stumpy,’ she said.
Months ago, an old Aboriginal woman had shown Audrey how to find possums this way. She’d shown her other things, too. But the old woman had only stayed for a few days. Visitors were like that. They popped up, then vanished. Except for Jimmy. He had stayed for a whole year. But then, he too had gone away, back to the city and his dad.
Audrey turned from the gum tree. Usually she and Stumpy had fun together in the bush. But today she wasn’t in the mood for play. It was like she had an itch, but couldn’t scratch it.
‘No, Stumpy, we can’t play hide-and-seek just now,’ said Audrey. ‘We have to talk about something.’ She sat cross-legged on the sand. ‘I’ve got a story to tell you. It was in Jimmy’s letter.’
Stumpy reminded her how he liked stories.
Audrey wasn’t sure he would like this one. She felt as though the sloshy bits in her stomach were turning cartwheels.
She looked down at the ground, not at Stumpy. ‘There was this baby camel who asked his mother why he had big feet with three toes. She said it was so he could walk across sandy plains.
‘Then the baby camel asked, “Why do I have these long eyelashes?”’
Audrey began tracing patterns in the red sand with one finger so she had an excuse for not watching Stumpy’s expression.
‘His mother told him eyelashes would keep sand out of his eyes in the desert. Then the baby camel asked why he had a hump on his back. His mum said it was for storing water when he was trekking across deserts.’
Audrey paused. She realised her pattern in the sand was close to a drawing, and that it looked a lot like Stumpy. She erased the pattern with a sweep of her hand.
‘The baby camel got to thinking. He said, “I’m glad I’ve got big feet to stop me sinking, and long, thick eyelashes to keep sand from my eyes and that I can store water in my hump. So why are we living in a zoo?”’
Audrey sat quietly to let Stumpy think about the story. She had already been thinking about it for days. It even kept her awake at night.
In Jimmy’s story, the baby camel thought he could store water in his hump. Mr Akbar had told her that a camel’s hump was full of fat. Whichever story was true, camels could certainly go for a long time without drinking water.
But the important thing about the story was that the baby camel shouldn’t have been in a zoo. He should have been free to roam where he could make use of his thick eyelashes and walk a long way on his big feet.
Even Toothless, the swaggie, couldn’t sleep properly in a house with a roof. He needed to breathe fresh air, feel the sun on his back, and go wherever he wanted.
Something prickled Audrey’s eyes. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘You’re my best friend, Stumpy. But … I want you to go away.’
Twenty-six
Audrey tried to smile, but her mouth wouldn’t do it. She felt it droop at the corners.
Stumpy shook his head.
‘You should be free, Stumpy. Think about Mr Akbar’s camels. He let them go in the bush and they run around wherever they want. They play all the time. No one tells them what to do. You’re a camel, too. You can be like that.’
Audrey listened carefully to his answer, then said, ‘I know you don’t like Jasmine. Nobody does. She bites. But not all of Mr Akbar’s camels are like that. It’s good for camels to be free. No nose-pegs or hobbles. No bossy people.’
Audrey picked up a stick and concentrated on flicking dry leaves into the air. ‘Remember Toothless? The swaggie with the sheep jaws in his bag? He said everyone should know who they are and what they want to be. Well, I think you should be free. I don’t want you to go. But I reckon you should.’
Audrey stood up and dusted her hands on her dress. She pressed her lips together for a moment to stop them trembling. Then she said, ‘I won’t have so much time to play now, anyway. I might have to look after Mum some more …’ She couldn’t say the words if Dad doesn’t come home.
She listened to what Stumpy had to say, her head tilted to one side.
‘I know that you don’t want to leave me,’ she said. ‘But you have to. I can’t play with you any more. You should go and do camel things from now on.’
She turned for home, her feet dragging.
Abruptly, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. ‘Stop following me, Stumpy. We have to say goodbye now.’
Audrey kept walking. She knew if Stumpy saw her looking, he would follow.
Wind blew through the trees, whipping up a dust devil. It spun round and round, picking up leaves and sand. Audrey turned her face away. But the devil skidded straight past her into the bush.
She sensed that Stumpy had gone.
It paid to look where you put your feet.
Twenty-seven
Audrey opened her eyes. It was morning, but the dim light through the hessian curtains told her that it was very early.
She flexed her fingers. The blisters on her palms hurt a little. They were bigger than the dunny hole. She sighed. Her mum couldn’t dig because of her leg. Douglas was too little, and busy being a magpie. So the digging was left to Audrey and Price.
Already the air was warm. Today would be another hot one. Audrey hoped Stumpy had found a cool place with lots of water. Maybe he’d found other camels by now.
Then she heard a voice that made her heart leap. She sat up, instantly wide awake. Blisters forgotten, she thrust back the sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
She checked the floor. It paid to look where you put your feet in the mornings, in case there were scorpions or centipedes.
Douglas was still asleep. His mouth hung open and there was a damp patch of dribble on his pillow.
Barefooted, Audrey shot through the lounge room and into the kitchen like a stone from a slingshot.
‘Dad!’
He sat at the kitchen table, his battered old hat on the chair beside him.
‘That’s me.’ He smiled. Wrinkles gathered around his eyes.
His hair was flattened from wearing the hat. It had been a while since his last haircut and his fair hair was shaggy. He looked thinner, and tired. His clothes were caked in dirt. He smelt like camel and sweat. His favourite pipe stuck out of his top pocket.
Audrey dashed across the kitchen and flung her arms around his neck, squeezing tight.
He hugged her back, then began to make choking noises. ‘You can let go now, Two-Bob.’
She stepped back, but jiggled up and down on tiptoes. ‘Mum! Dad’s home.’
Mrs Barlow, already dressed and looking surprisingly awake, nodded. ‘Yes, I know.’
‘It’s a miroolcool.’
‘A miracle, is it?’ Dad’s eyes twinkled.
‘Just like walking on a well.’ Audrey once heard a story about a miracle and it had something to do with water.
With both hands, Mum carried a big bowl of porridge over to Dad.
Audrey’s dad winked at her. ‘This’ll warm the cockles of my heart.’
Aud
rey scrambled onto the chair beside him.
‘Mr Akbar said there was a big fire,’ said Audrey. ‘Bigger than the sky.’
‘Well, now. That’s pretty big. I saw the smoke, smelled it. But I was well clear.’
‘You’re smart, Dad.’ Audrey rested her chin on her hands. ‘How old are you?’
He blinked with surprise, then told her.
‘You’ve been growing up for a long time, haven’t you?’
He patted the top of his head. ‘Matter of fact, I’m growin’ right through my hair.’
Audrey sneaked a look at the bald patch on top of his head, then at his nose. There were definitely hairs growing out of Dad’s nostrils, just as she told Price.
‘Price and me blew up the dunny,’ said Audrey.
Her dad dipped his spoon into the thick porridge. ‘I thought something was missing.’
‘We’re digging a new dunny hole, though. But we reckon it might take till Christmas next year.’
‘Speaking of wells,’ said her mum, ‘would you mind bringing the jelly up for me, please?’
Audrey didn’t mind anything this morning. Dad was home.
Still in her nightgown, she ran outside. Buttons bleated. There was a gold and red glow over the horizon.
Price rounded the back corner of the house, rubbing at his eyes.
‘Dad’s home, Price.’
A smile lit up her brother’s face. Any trace of sleepiness vanished. He bolted for the kitchen. Audrey hadn’t seen Price run that fast since a goanna mistook him for a tree and tried to run up his body to sit on his head.
Audrey looked over her shoulder. ‘Last one to the well is a rotten egg …’ she began.
But Stumpy wasn’t there. Audrey was so accustomed to him following her around that she had forgotten he’d gone.
A sad feeling swept over her. She tried to ignore it. Dad was home safe. Nothing was going to spoil a capital-letter-A day.
The well wall, made of stone and cement, was waist-high. Audrey dragged aside the sheet of iron which sat on top. When it was hot, birds would fly in to drink and then drown. The iron kept Douglas and the birds out.
Audrey fumbled with the knot in the rope that dangled into the darkness. The only way to set a jelly was to lower it at night, then bring it back up before the heat of the day melted it.
Taking care not to let go of the rope and drop the bucket, Audrey leaned over the stone wall and began to pull. She breathed in the dampness of the well. It was a welcome change from the dry dustiness of the air.
She coiled the rope neatly as it grew longer. Finally, the bucket at the end of the rope reached the top.
Audrey stared into the bucket where her mother had put the jelly bowl. ‘Uh oh.’
She secured the coiled rope and replaced the iron cover on the well. Then she seized the bowl of jelly and scurried back to the kitchen.
Audrey plonked the bowl on the table and stood back. ‘Cop that.’
Her parents and Price leaned forward to look.
Set perfectly in jelly was a stunned-looking frog.
‘Now that is a miroolcool,’ said Audrey. ‘Fair dinkum.’
Twenty-eight
Audrey sat outside the house on a kero tin watching the sun go down. She kicked at the red sand, watching it puff into a gritty cloud.
Until now, she had always thought that people were either happy or sad. They could be happy one day, but sad the next. Or happy in the morning and sad at night. But today, Audrey felt both at the same time. Happy that Dad was back. And sad that her best friend was gone.
She heard Dad’s voice coming from the kitchen. Mum laughed loudly. Dad was teasing her. Any minute, Mum would smack his arm and he would pretend to yelp. Audrey could just picture them.
Douglas squealed. He had given up being a magpie. Today he just squealed like an excited boy. Price was somewhere in the house too. Everyone was there except her. She didn’t feel like company.
Dad’s camels bellowed. After so many weeks with all of Dad’s attention, maybe they felt left out.
Audrey nibbled the skin around her fingernail.
‘So this is where you are, Two-Bob.’
Her dad came and squatted beside her. Already Mum had got to his hair with the scissors. She always fussed over him when he came home, as though he couldn’t look after himself properly. Audrey wondered if she’d also snipped his nose hairs.
The light from the setting sun shone on his face, giving it a yellow glow.
‘Sunset looks all the better for being home,’ he said.
Audrey nodded and kept chewing at her fingernail.
‘You’re not thinking about putting that finger up your nose, are you? It’s getting awfully close.’
She let her hand drop into her lap. ‘’Course not.’
He nodded. ‘Want to talk about it?’
‘What?’
‘I might only be your dad, but I didn’t come down in the last shower.’
He waited quietly for her to go on.
‘Stumpy’s gone,’ she said.
Her dad took his pipe from his top pocket and went to put it in his mouth. He changed his mind and returned it to his pocket. ‘Thought it was quiet. Where is he?’
Audrey shrugged. ‘I let him go.’
Dad made a dry sound in his throat like a small cough. ‘Fair dinkum?’
She told him why.
‘Mmm. It’s hard,’ he said. ‘Just like it’ll be hard for your mum and me when you kids leave home. Stumpy will be all right.’
Maybe. But Audrey felt like she wasn’t all right. What if Stumpy had forgotten her?
Twenty-nine
Dad looked as though he had no legs. The hole he was digging was already waist-deep. He stopped, leaned on the shovel and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.
Audrey swiped at the ground with her stick.
‘I hope you and Price don’t blow this dunny up,’ said Dad. ‘It’s going to have real walls.’
‘Aargh,’ growled Audrey.
‘What’s the matter with your eye?’
Audrey screwed her left eye up even tighter. ‘Aargh. Cut out by a sword, old fellow.’
‘I thought you had something in your eye.’
‘Well, it ain’t an eyeball, that’s for sure. Aarrgh! I’ll have yer guts fer garters.’
‘I wouldn’t say guts in front of your mother. Don’t reckon that’s on her good-word list.’ Dad resumed shovelling. ‘You’re a long way from the sea for a pirate.’
‘I’m shipwrecked,’ said Audrey.
‘Hope you won’t rob me.’
Audrey stopped slashing with her stick. ‘I’m a kind pirate. Aargh. I help people.’
She relaxed her pirate’s eye. It was starting to ache.
Playing games like this was usually so much fun that she never wanted to stop. A while back, when she had decided to be a dog, she had barked for three days. No words. Just panting, barking and licking. It was the licking that made her mother put her foot down. Mum didn’t like having wet streaks on the back of her hand. But it had taken a whole week for Douglas to stop patting Audrey.
Today, no matter how hard she tried, being a pirate didn’t seem fun. Or real. She dropped her sword-stick and turned to look out over the flat, red sand to where the scrub began. The place where she last saw Stumpy.
‘What can you see out there, pirate?’ Dad stretched his aching back.
‘I’m not a pirate any more.’
‘That was quick.’
Audrey sat on the ground beside her stick. ‘It’s not much fun without St … on my own. Price reckons he’s too big for games now, and Douglas is too little.’
‘You made a hard choice in letting Stumpy go,’ said Dad. ‘But don’t grow up too quickly, Two-Bob.’
‘I won’t be grown-up for a long time. Maybe forever. Is forever the longest time? Or is there a bigger time?’
‘Forever sounds mighty long to me.’
‘Do watches make time?’
‘W
atches count time,’ said Dad. ‘They don’t make it.’
‘So where does it start?’
‘Even when you’re a grown-up, there are some things you just don’t know.’
Audrey picked up the stick that used to be a sword and scraped it across the sand, making a wide, smooth track. ‘When you were away I tried doing grown-up things like being a swaggie, a man and even a teacher.’
‘I see. You were busy, then.’
‘Reckon I’ll stay a girl for a while.’
‘I think you make a bonzer girl, Audrey.’
‘But I didn’t know girls could be so lonely.’
‘It’s not the same without you.’
Thirty
Audrey stood alone at the back of the house. She heard the crack of a ball hitting wood. Her family were out the front playing cricket.
Dad had brought home a cricket ball from Beltana, and Price had made a bat from a lump of wood. It was thicker in some spots than others. Price’s woodwork was like his dad’s. Solid, but crooked.
There was a shout from Dad. Douglas squealed.
Dad’s dog, Grease, was barking. He didn’t like being tied to the tank stand. But if he wasn’t tied, he would keep grabbing the ball in his mouth and running off with it. No one wanted to bowl when there was dog saliva all over the ball.
Audrey stared out to the edge of the scrub. The bushes seemed to blur and bend. She blinked, and the bushes looked straight again.
Running footsteps sounded behind her.
‘Audrey,’ yelled Price. ‘We need a bowler. Want to play?’
She shook her head and kept staring at the scrubby hills where Stumpy wandered without her.
‘I’ll let you have a go at batting, too,’ he promised. ‘Mum’s being the umpire cos she can’t run.’
Again Audrey shook her head.
She expected Price to return to the cricket game. But he came to stand beside her. ‘It’s not the same without you.’
‘I don’t feel so good without Stumpy.’
‘Yeah.’ He swallowed hard, as if he wanted to say something but had to get ready first. ‘Audrey, Stumpy isn’t a real camel. He’s imaginary.’
The Audrey of the Outback Collection Page 6
