Storyland

by Catherine McKinnon

  Isha looks to me and then Tarak. We’re going to be late back. Rafting will be over. Aiko made that clear to us.

  ‘Yes,’ we all say.

  The water is choppy. We row towards the kiosk. Kristie asks us to row as fast as we can. She’s worried about Ned getting a boat and coming after us. We keep a lookout for Ned but don’t see him anywhere on the lake or on the shore.

  Above us, dark clouds are racing.

  ‘What do you see in the sky?’ I ask Kristie, beginning our old game.

  ‘Rain on its way,’ she says, but says it like she doesn’t want to play.

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Change,’ she says.

  But then Kristie tells me she needs to be quiet for a bit.

  She rummages in her suitcase and yanks out another tee shirt, and asks me to use it to clean up Zeus. I wet the tee shirt in the lake and wipe the blood from Zeus’s mouth. He sits there panting. When I’ve finished, Kristie takes the bloodied tee shirt and throws it in the lake.

  Thunder rumbles.

  Rain plops down on us. Then stops.

  At the park, we tie up the raft and walk to the kiosk. We are all a little bit shivery. Like after a swim or something. Our teeth are chattering.

  ‘Do you want hot chips?’ Kristie asks.

  But we don’t, we want ice-cream.

  Kristie gives us a smile and buys us ice-creams.

  ‘I have to make a phone call,’ she says. ‘Keep a watch out for Ned.’

  She leaves us sitting on a bench near the pond and walks over to the phonebox by the road. She forgets to take her ice-cream with her, but Isha says we have to leave her alone while she makes her call, so Tarak has to hold the ice-cream for her. I squat next to the pond, but keep my eyes on Kristie. Isha stands looking out for Ned. Every now and then Isha runs down to the lake, to check along the shore. Kristie only makes one call. When she clicks off, she leans against the glass and doesn’t turn around. She stays in the phonebox for ages. The only thing that moves is her shoulders. They heave up and down. When she comes back and sits on the bench, her eyes are red.

  Tarak gives Kristie her melting ice-cream. She eats it quickly.

  My head hurts when I think about what happened back at Ned and Kristie’s house. It’s like I get dizzy. It must be like that for the others because no one says anything. It’s like we all just want it to be an ordinary day, even though we know it’s not an ordinary day.

  ‘When I was little my mum used to make her own ice-cream,’ Kristie says.

  ‘Does she still make it?’ Tarak asks.

  ‘Don’t know.’ Kristie munches her cone. ‘Stopped going around to her place because every time I went, she would say, Lift your game, Kristie.’

  ‘You can do that, can’t you?’ I say.

  Kristie looks at me in surprise and then she belly laughs. ‘I’ll put that down as a future plan then, shall I?’

  I nod but I’m not sure what’s so funny. Jonathan is always telling me to lift my game and it usually means tidy my room.

  ‘It would mean you could see your mum, wouldn’t it?’ I say.

  Kristie nods. ‘I guess so.’

  The blood on her cut has dried. Her face is red and bruised. Tarak keeps hold of Kristie’s leg, like she’s a kite that might fly away. She gets a hair tie from her bag and puts her hair up in a ponytail.

  Isha says he wants a drink and the three of them go to the kiosk again.

  It’s now I spy what I’ve been waiting for all year. A dragonfly, perched on a rock near me, trying to pull its long abdomen out from its split shell. Here it is. Just when I haven’t got time to look at it properly. It takes ages for the dragonfly to get rid of its shell and a lot of effort, wriggling and squirming, but once it is done, it spreads its wings, fluttering them now and again, as they dry.

  The wings are a brilliant aqua blue.

  Beautiful.

  I want to cry out to the others but I don’t want to scare the dragonfly.

  I am watching the dragonfly when they come back from the kiosk, but before I can tell them about it, Kristie says she has something to say.

  ‘My dad’s coming to pick me up,’ she says. ‘He’s going on a road trip, over to Western Australia, and he asked me to go with him. I said yes.’

  I want to tell Kristie about the the the dragonfly, but I also want to tell her I don’t want her to go away.

  ‘My dad says I’ve got to break the cycle of going back to Ned,’ she says.

  ‘How long will you be away?’ Isha asks.

  ‘Don’t know,’ Kristie says. She puts her hand to his cheek. Not with her fingertips, like my mum does, but with the back of her hand.

  ‘I thought Ned was going to kill you,’ I say.

  It’s out before I know it and everything is bubbling up in me. I start to cry.

  ‘I thought so too,’ Kristie says, and now she is crying.

  She puts her arms around me. Tarak is holding onto Kristie’s jeans. Isha comes and stands really close to us. I see he is crying also, but quietly. Kristie takes hold of Isha’s hand.

  ‘Hey, but you guys saved me,’ Kristie says, softly.

  ‘Zeus saved you probably,’ I say, and dry my tears with the end of my shirt.

  ‘Yes,’ says Kristie, and she bends to pat Zeus.

  Isha is wiping his eyes too. He takes off his watch and holds it out for Kristie.

  Kristie stares at it.

  ‘I want you to have it,’ Isha says.

  ‘But it’s your mother’s,’ Kristie says.

  ‘Yes,’ says Isha.

  Kristie looks across to the lake that is all choppy waves. White foam floats into the air.

  ‘I’m not a good person,’ Kristie whispers.

  ‘You are a good person,’ Isha says.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Take it.’ Isha holds it out.

  Kristie shakes her head but Isha is stubborn.

  ‘Go on, take it,’ he says.

  Kristie takes the watch and straps it onto her wrist. She pulls Isha to her.

  ‘Thank you, Isha. This is a very precious gift,’ she says.

  Tarak has a worried expression. Kristie puts her hand onto his cheek.

  I feel a pain in my chest.

  Everything hurts.

  A car horn beeps. Kristie looks over to the road.

  ‘It’s Dad,’ she says.

  We turn and watch a brown ute pull up near the bus stop. Her dad waves at her.

  ‘Listen, don’t you guys go to Koonawarra for a while. Ned will be looking for you. Steer clear of Wyndarra Way.’

  ‘We will,’ Isha says.

  ‘Kristie,’ I say, but then I don’t know what to tell her.

  ‘Hey, listen, I won’t be gone for too long,’ Kristie says. ‘I’ll get my head right, get myself back in school, and then I’ll come and find you guys.’

  I hug her.

  ‘And hey, that axe, it did belong to my old uncle. My mother’s uncle. I was cleaning out his place after he died and I found it. It was in a secret place. He must have hidden it there.’ Kristie looks at each of us. ‘No one in my family knows about it. My uncle never mentioned it to anyone. Not even to my mum. Maybe I’ll tell her about it one day, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll leave it in the caves. Because probably there’s a reason my old uncle never mentioned it.’

  ‘We won’t tell anyone,’ I say.

  ‘I know you won’t, but I want you to know that I didn’t steal it, not exactly. Probably I shouldn’t have taken it from its hiding place. But that axe is from around here and whatever happens, it should stay around here.’

  Kristie kisses each of us, me and Tarak on the cheek, and Isha on the lips. Then she turns and runs across the grass to the road.

  She gets into the ute and hugs her dad, then he spins the car around, drives to the traffic lights, and turns onto the main road. The ute disappears into the traffic.

  I sit on the rock near the dragonfly. Its wings are still held out, like it is waiting for
something. I stare at it. I feel like I’ve got lots of heavy things on top of me. Kristie is gone and I am different. I am different but I don’t know how to tell about it, and I don’t know how to tell about Kristie. Too much has happened. Kristie is gone and I don’t know if she will ever come back.

  The dragonfly takes off and flies across the lake. An eagle with a white belly glides above it, a shadow over the

  Lola

  1900

  water, its white head and grey claws pushed forward as it plunges towards the lake, ready to take its prey.

  Dempster squeezes my neck and I cry out for help. Mary and Aunty pull on his arm. I can hear Abe spluttering. Dempster still has him in a neckhold. The dogs run around us barking. Yardah and Moomung try to hold them back. The little kids are screaming. Mr Farrell and Toorung wrestle with Dempster and finally he releases his hold on me and Abe. We fall back.

  Abe stands unsteadily, gasps. Mary holds me while I recover my breath.

  Dempster struggles against Mr Farrell and Toorung but keeps his eyes on Abe.

  ‘Where is she?’ Dempster yells at Abe.

  ‘You tell me,’ Abe shouts.

  ‘My daughter!’ Dempster cries out in such pain that it startles us.

  ‘I didn’t mean for this to happen,’ Mr Farrell says, ‘but you have got to talk to me, Abe. Tell me the truth. Do you know where Jewell is?’

  ‘I don’t know where she is.’ Abe spits the words out. ‘I swear.’

  ‘And you didn’t see her Wednesday morning last?’ Mr Farrell asks.

  ‘No.’ Abe wipes at the blood on his cheek with his shirt.

  ‘Not at all?’

  ‘I told you, no.’

  ‘That’s good enough for me,’ Mr Farrell says. ‘Dan, you have your answer.’

  Mr Farrell and Toorung step away from Dempster. The three men stand there. All are breathing heavily.

  ‘You keep your brother out of my road,’ Dempster says to me.

  He strides over to his horse.

  Mr Farrell says goodbye. He follows Dempster, mounts up and the two men ride off.

  A mood, like a shadow on water, settles on us all.

  Aunty turns to Toorung. ‘We need your help to find this young girl.’

  Toorung don’t reply. He looks to Yardah, who is now standing silent and still.

  ‘We help,’ Yardah says.

  ‘Where is it you went to meet Jewell?’ Aunty asks Abe.

  ‘It’s like a tree cave,’ he says. ‘No one can see inside it. Jewell found it one time when she were out walking.’

  ‘And you’re certain she were there that morning?’ Aunty asks.

  ‘She were there but I didn’t see her. She’d left me an apple to eat. I thought she had gone out to draw something and were coming back.’

  ‘How do you know it were her that left you the apple?’ I ask.

  ‘She always did it. As a sign. It meant she were nearby.’

  Toorung picks up a stone axe that is lying next to the campfire and tucks it into his belt. ‘Show me,’ he says.

  We set off through the scrub along the track that leads to Mullet Creek, Abe in the lead. Moomung and her children stay behind to finish packing the fish in the barrels and load them on the cart when it comes. Before we reach the creek Abe pushes his way through sedge grass that grows on the side of the track, and there lies another smaller track, not visible from the larger one.

  ‘The tree cave is at the end,’ he says.

  Abe starts walking but I grab his arm.

  ‘You’d better go back to the farm now,’ I say.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘I’m going with you.’

  ‘If we run into Dempster again, there could be another fight,’ I say.

  ‘He’s the one who should be looking out,’ Abe says.

  I turn to Aunty.

  ‘Lola is right,’ Aunty says. ‘You come with me. I should put ointment on that cut on your cheek.’

  ‘And someone needs to do the milking,’ Mary says.

  ‘I need to search for Jewell,’ Abe pleads.

  ‘Go,’ Mary says.

  ‘No!’ Abe is determined.

  ‘Hey boy,’ Yardah says. ‘You go now.’ She points in the direction of the camp.

  Abe stares at Yardah, but the look on her face demands he obey. He pushes past us and tramps off.

  ‘We’ll ride home on Night,’ Aunty says to Mary, as she follows Abe.

  Toorung and Yardah walk on but they soon stop and squat to inspect the ground.

  ‘Look,’ Toorung says.

  Mary and I kneel beside them, stare at tracks in the dirt.

  ‘That one girl,’ Yardah says, pointing to some faint footprints.

  We get up and follow the tracks. Yardah waves us to one side of the path. The tracks lead to a group of low trees that grow around an enormous rock. The spiky tree branches go right to the ground. This must be the tree cave Abe were talking about. Toorung pulls back the branches. Yardah steps inside and we follow.

  Inside, it is magical. A soft green light shines through the leaves. There’s a log for sitting on that Abe and Jewell must have dragged in.

  ‘Stay put,’ Yardah instructs us.

  She walks around the tree cave, carefully looking at the ground. At the back of the cave the branches curl around crags in the rock. She finds a crevice, pokes about, and pulls out a flour bag. She brings it to us, holding it open. In it is one of Jewell’s cardigans, two skirts, a shirt and some underclothes.

  Mary and me turn to each other.

  ‘She meant to come back here,’ I say.

  Besides clothes, the bag holds some cheese wrapped in a cloth.

  Toorung sits on the log and studies the dirt. We go and sit next to him.

  ‘That girl, in and out, a few times,’ Toorung says, pointing to the entrance.

  He picks up something from the dirt. Wipes it clean. A crust of bread the ants have almost eaten away.

  I stare at it.

  ‘She never ate her crust,’ I say.

  We leave the tree cave. Outside, cabbage tree palms grow alongside tall turpentines. Tree ferns hang down from mossy branches and ground ferns spike up between the trunks.

  Yardah and Toorung stand listening. Toorung holds a finger to his lips, pushes me and Mary down behind a tree. He and Yardah crouch next to us. I close my eyes. I can hear birds and wind, frogs and humming insects. I open my eyes and stare at Yardah. She holds herself still, listening. Toorung puts his ear to the ground. I turn to Mary. She shakes her head. She can’t hear anything either.

  ‘What do you hear?’ I whisper to Toorung.

  ‘Maybe nothing,’ he says. ‘Come.’

  He and Yardah stand and tread warily along an animal track that leads to the creek. We follow them and realise that if we hold our heads slightly back, so we catch the sun at a particular angle, we can see Jewell’s footprints on the ground. Soon the track meets a wider path. Yardah points to another set of footprints.

  ‘That girl met big fella,’ Yardah says. ‘Here. They stop here, them two.’

  ‘Abe?’ I ask.

  ‘Heel gone,’ Toorung says. ‘See. Big man this. Not Abe.’

  ‘Dempster is big,’ I say to Mary.

  We follow the two sets of footprints along the track to Mullet Creek. We come out at the smooth rock ledge shaped like a fish.

  Toorung and Yardah inspect the ground. Yardah picks up some pencil shavings. ‘Sat there, that girl,’ she says, pointing to the edge of the rock ledge.

  Toorung walks to where the cabbage tree trunk has been laid across the creek. ‘Running here, that girl. See. That man, he run too.’

  ‘Is someone chasing them?’ Mary asks. ‘Or is he chasing her?’

  ‘Run up here, them two,’ Toorung says, and scrambles up the bank, and around the trees and down again.

  Yardah follows Toorung. She crouches near a clump of wild grasses and picks up a pencil. Yardah gives it to me.

  ‘Could belong to Jewell,’ Mary says.
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  ‘Could belong to anyone,’ I say.

  ‘Man chasing that girl, I reckon,’ Yardah says.

  Toorung walks back to the cabbage tree trunk, pointing out a broken branch, crushed twigs, dirt swirls on the rock.

  ‘That one girl, she run onto log. Man pull that one girl back,’ Toorung says.

  Toorung steps over the trunk, onto the rocky ledge that sits alongside the smoother one, and walks to where it falls away and the ground becomes earthed bank. ‘That one girl ran here,’ he says.

  Yardah, following behind, bends over to inspect the dirt. ‘Fight, them two. Roll, them two. Both, roll and roll.’

  Toorung strides to the water’s edge, kneels down and tips his head on the side, peering first at the sharp corner of the rocky ledge then underneath.

  ‘Blood. See. Hit head that girl.’ He points to the rock then looks behind him on the bank. ‘That man, he tried to clean up the blood that way,’ he says. ‘But he didn’t see here. No rain. Water too low, can’t get. Blood still here.’

  Mary and me get down on our knees and peer under the ledge.

  Dried blood is splattered everywhere.

  Yardah climbs back onto the rocky ledge and squats at the edge, staring into the water.

  Mary takes my hand.

  ‘Is she in the water?’ Mary asks.

  ‘Near this place,’ Yardah says. ‘Somewhere here. Maybe.’

  Toorung wades in. Mary unstraps her pack and rifle, drops them to the ground and follows. I do the same. We don’t stop to take off our boots. It seems we might find Jewell now, but not how we wanted. I am trembling all over. The water is clear. I search the creek bed. Where is she? Where is she? We wade along. Toorung’s head is above the water surface, but his arms are stretched out, feeling beneath the ledge. Slowly, we make our way downstream, back towards the cabbage tree trunk.

  Bang! A zizzing past my ear. A rifle shot? Startled birds take flight. I look to the bank. Is someone shooting at the birds? A hunter or what? One of those men from the smelting works who don’t know a rifle from a pistol? No one on the bank. Yardah runs from the ledge to a tree. She looks at me then points downstream, to a clump of coachwoods. Were the shot meant for us? I press in close to the rock ledge but keep my eye on the trees. Bang! A bullet pings off the rock right in front on me.

  ‘Down,’ Toorung says, pointing to the water.