The Beast of Hushing Wood

by Gabrielle Wang

  Momma nods weakly. ‘I’ll get some vinegar for those stings, then I’ll find your sister some clothes,’ she says.

  ‘Thanks, Momma.’ I take Raffi to Jake and Pete’s bedroom and look through their cupboard until I find a pair of trousers, a shirt and a sweater of Jake’s. Raffi is taller than my brothers but the clothes will have to do for now. Then I show him to Momma’s bathroom and find him a clean towel.

  ‘Give me the bottle,’ he says. ‘I will need to take it to Jaddi. He will know a way to destroy it, and the jinn within.’

  I carefully remove the bottle from my pocket and hand it to him. I’m glad to be rid of it. Black smoke swirls and spirals inside it.

  ‘And Grandpa Truegood will know too.’ The words pop out of my mouth and they feel right and true.

  Raffi nods. ‘I would like to meet your grandfather,’ he says.

  Steam fills the room as Kalila and I climb into the tub. Soon her teeth stop chattering and she relaxes. As the water touches my wound, searing pain rips up my leg and I draw in my breath, screwing my face up at the same time. When I open my eyes, Kalila’s looking at me, worried.

  ‘It hurts?’ she says.

  ‘You can speak English, Kalila!’ I say, surprised.

  ‘Jaddi taught me.’

  ‘Of course he did,’ I say. ‘You will have to teach me your language.’

  She nods and smiles.

  Momma comes in with clean clothes. She sits on the small three-legged stool that Pete made in woodworking class.

  ‘Now, can you tell me what’s going on?’ Momma says gently.

  I know she won’t believe me if I try and explain, so I tell her there had been a dangerous animal in the woods and Raffi killed it.

  She glances at me suspiciously and I give her a look that says, Please don’t ask any more.

  ‘Come, Kalila, let me wash your hair. There’s a good girl,’ she says, kneeling down at the bathtub. I smile at her, imagining that she really is bathing my little sister.

  ‘Momma, do you know what I’d like for my birthday?’ I say.

  She looks at me.

  ‘That Grandpa Truegood can come home and spend the day with us.’

  ‘I was thinking exactly the same thought,’ she says.

  Later, as we’re sitting at the coffee table drinking mugs of hot cocoa, Momma hands me an envelope.

  ‘Happy birthday, Ziggy,’ she says.

  I lift the flap and pull out two rectangular slips of paper. My eyes start filling with tears.

  ‘What is it? Show us, Zigs,’ says Petal.

  I can’t speak. I hold up both my hands, an airline ticket in each.

  ‘Ziggy and I are going on a holiday to see her dad and brothers,’ Momma says.

  I hug Momma and it’s as if I’ve saved up all my hugs for this one beautiful longed-for moment. This is big for her. It means she is no longer scared to leave Dell Hollow. ‘I love you so much, Momma,’ I say.

  In the back seat on the way to Gold Leaf Lodge, Raffi and Kalila can’t stop talking. I don’t understand a word but Raffi has his arm around his little sister like he will never let her go again. It makes me miss Jake and Pete, but then a thrill grabs my chest as I remember that I’ll be seeing them soon. Only a week to go before the school holidays, holidays I thought I’d never get to see.

  A warm wind has chased the dark clouds away and a patch of blue opens up over Dell Hollow. The morning sun bathes the shops in a golden light. As we drive down Main Street, people are out sweeping leaves and rubbish and clearing away fallen branches. There is a lot of chatter and some people are even whistling.

  Momma and I go into the nursing home together.

  Kaye greets us at the front desk and Momma tells her about taking Grandpa Truegood out for the day because it’s my birthday.

  ‘That’s a wonderful idea. He seems to be doing much better today,’ Kaye says.

  I smile.

  We go to Grandpa Truegood’s room and he is sitting in his armchair reading. He looks up. His eyes are bright. He looks ten years younger.

  ‘It’s Ziggy, Grandpa Truegood, your granddaughter,’ I say like I do every time.

  ‘I know,’ he replies. ‘I feel like I’ve been on a long trip, but I’m coming back now. Hello, my beautiful daughter,’ he says to Momma.

  Momma stands, frozen, staring at Grandpa Truegood. Then she goes up and hugs him. ‘Dad . . .’ she says, and I can hear that she’s crying.

  I sit in the back of the car with Raffi and Kalila and introduce Grandpa Truegood to them both.

  ‘Your grandfather must be very strong. It takes a lot to fight off that jinn,’ Raffi whispers to me.

  ‘Yes, he is strong and good and true,’ I say.

  ‘You take after him, Ziggy Truegood,’ Raffi says.

  I turn away so he won’t see me blushing.

  Jaddi is sitting on the top step of the caravan. He looks up when he hears the car. Before Momma has turned off the engine, Raffi opens the door and Kalila rushes over to her grandfather.

  He lifts her up in his arms and rocks her like a baby. He sings to her, holding her so tenderly it’s as if he’s forgotten we’re here.

  ‘Please, Mrs Truegood,’ says Raffi. ‘Will you come in for some mint tea?’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ says Momma.

  Grandpa Truegood and Jaddi sit on cushions at the low table in the back of the caravan as if they have known each other for years. They discuss things backwards and forwards. I know they’re talking about the jinn because they keep picking up the jade bottle and putting it down again carefully.

  Kalila shows Momma and me a drawing of her home. ‘There are alleyways all around,’ she says. ‘Jaddi, Raffi and I live right here, in the middle, near the market. And this is where Raffi goes to school.’ She takes another drawing out. ‘And this is inside our house. That is my bedroom where I sleep with Raffi. Jaddi sleeps here and we have a rooftop garden where we sleep if it gets too hot. From there we can see across the town, all the way to the desert.’

  ‘Where is your town?’ I ask.

  ‘In a land far away, but as close as your heart,’ Raffi answers. ‘You can travel forever and never get there, or you can just take a step sideways, and there you are.’

  Momma looks confused. ‘Where?’

  ‘It is called Alamal Mithal,’ I say. Raffi nods. I can’t quite understand it myself. I suppose it’s like Momma learning to open up to a world outside of Dell Hollow. I’m also learning to open up to other realms, jinns and dreams and stepping sideways.

  ‘I’ll tell you later,’ I say to Momma.

  She nods. Now I’m twelve, she doesn’t seem to be treating me like a little kid any more.

  While Kalila shows Momma the necklaces Jaddi made, I talk to Raffi. ‘Are your mother and father waiting at home for you?’ I ask.

  When I see Raffi’s expression, I wish I hadn’t. He looks into his glass of mint tea and swirls a loose mint leaf around. ‘They died a few years ago. Jaddi looks after us now.’

  ‘I didn’t know. I’m so sorry,’ I say. I put my hand on his and we sit without speaking for a while.

  I look at our two grandfathers drinking tea and talking. I watch Raffi and think how close we have grown to each other. He is like a brother, a best friend, a binding spirit all at the same time. And we are both children of light. The white antelope in me stirs.

  Jaddi and Grandpa Truegood stand. They shake hands and hug each other.

  ‘Do you know how to destroy the jinn?’ I ask Jaddi. I am a bit sad because my beautiful jade bottle will have to be destroyed as well.

  ‘Yes … and no,’ Jaddi says, and glances at Grandpa Truegood. Grandpa looks even taller and younger than he did an hour earlier. He speaks and his voice is strong.

  ‘We are going to search for the child of the jinn, and free her.’

  Shock silences us. They are going to help the jinn?

  ‘It is the only way to stop the cycle of hate and revenge,’ Jaddi says.

&n
bsp; The rightness of it dawns within me. But there’s also a feeling that I don’t recognise right away. Then I know: loss.

  ‘Are you leaving, Grandpa?’ I cry. ‘We only just got you back!’

  They are gone. Jaddi, Kalila, Grandpa Truegood and Raffi have gone. I know it by the fist-sized stone in my stomach, by the cold wire that runs up and down my spine, by my breath, which hitches so hard I’m beginning to feel giddy. Tears sting my eyes as I ride to Green Lake.

  I stare at the spot where the caravan once stood as if by wishing it there I could make it magically appear. The place feels so empty, whereas before it felt so alive. I look back through the trees where I’d seen Raffi appear with his animal spirit trotting beside him. I look at the place where Jaddi sat polishing stones. I hear an echo of soft grinding. I think about Grandpa Truegood. I can still feel his warm arms around me.

  Will I ever see any of them again?

  On a flat rock, five brightly polished river stones gleam in the sunlight. One stone for each of us, I think as I pick them up.

  The larger brown one is Jaddi, whose animal spirit is the old bear. The silver one is, of course, Kalila, the silver fox. The spotty one is Raffi, the leopard. For Grandpa Truegood, black basalt. And the white stone is me, Rima, the white antelope.

  I lie down on the grass and hold up the necklace Jaddi made for me. ‘One day we will see each other again. I’ll learn how to reach into your realm and find you,’ I say.

  Over the first week of the school holidays, I see a change come to Dell Hollow. Invisible walls around the town are slowly crumbling.

  The books in the hidden room are now in their proper place in the Dell Hollow Library. Grandpa Truegood had put them there so that they wouldn’t be destroyed. But I think now the town is ready for them. Miss Cubby is still our teacher and every day she has a special story-telling session in the library – even the grownups come to listen.

  A travelling musician often plays music on the corner and people stop; someone might even tap a little dance. The bakery offers sweet cakes shaped like mushrooms, the red tops sprinkled with white speckles. People hang out in the warm dusk, chatting to their neighbours, strolling the streets. And everyone talks to me and pats Mystic.

  I’ve always seen the woods in the shape of a sleeping cat and now the cat is awake. It lifts its sleek black head and a warm summer breeze ruffles its fur.

  Slowly, people have started taking walks in the woods and having picnics on the banks of Fiddlers Stream. I thought I’d hate to share them because the woods belong to Mystic and me. But I love them and I want the people of Dell Hollow to love them too.

  I’ve started taking people on walks to show them the trees, plants and animals that live there. I tell them to tread softly and lightly. And they do.

  Every time I pass the place where the Hollow Tree once stood, my heart aches. In its place, though, a baby sycamore has been planted. The seedling comes from the sycamore at the back of our house, the one that dared to grow in a strange place, that dared to be different.

  Momma and I drive through town and see Petal and Big Bobby drinking milkshakes with Mystic at their feet. Petal is feeding him an ice-cream.

  Momma toots and I wind down the window.

  ‘I’ll take good care of Mystic, don’t worry, Zigs!’ Petal calls out. ‘Make sure you write!’

  I lean out the window and wave until the town is gone. As Hushing Wood spreads out on my left, the morning sun playing hide-and-seek between the trees, I sit back in the seat. We’re driving to Patonville first and there we’ll leave the car and catch the plane to Surfers Bluff where Papa and the boys are.

  Now we are out of the valley and driving on a long straight road that slices across the plains. With the wind in my face, thoughts come and go like little birds visiting their favourite tree.

  I thought my premonition was about my death, but all along it was about life. I know now something that might seem bad at the time often turns out, in the end, to be a good thing. It’s like you’re in the woods and you can only see the thick and twisted trees around you, not the whole woods with its paths and meadows and streams shimmering light. And maybe you never will see it all, but remembering that the whole woods is there can ease your heart.

  I let the thoughts sit for a while, then I shake my branches. I imagine Raffi back in his house with the flat roof, in the maze of alleyways, in a town surrounded by sand. I imagine Kalila drawing and singing. I see Grandpa Truegood and Jaddi crossing deserts, looking for the child of the jinn.

  The car hits a bump and something lands in my hand. I look down.

  The five stones from Green Lake are in a small cloth bag on my lap, but Raffi’s stone has jumped out.

  The sun, shining through the windscreen, warms the stone and I close my fingers around it. Feeling its smooth surface against my skin, I know Raffi is thinking of me at this very moment.

  And then I realise a truth. When you are both children of light the connection can never be broken. From across the great deserts and the vast seas there is, and always will be a kinship between us, not of blood, but of the stars that shine down upon both our worlds.

  All I have to do is take a step sideways and I will be there.

  Thank you to everyone at Penguin, especially my publisher Lisa Riley and my amazing editor Katrina Lehman, for always understanding the story I want to tell. Thank you to Tony Palmer for the design and layout of my illustrations.

  Thank you to Jane Godwin, who read the first draft and told me that she didn’t get a sense of place. This essential advice sent me to the Berkshires in Massachusetts to stay with Ginny Granger in her lovely house surrounded by acres of woods, where bear, deer, wild turkey, woodchuck and chipmunk roam. Thank you Ginny for your kind hospitality and inspiration. And thank you Jennifer Howlett for taking me on long walks in the woods and sharing your abundant woodland knowledge. The research I did there was invaluable.

  Thank you to Paul Bennett for keeping me sane at a moment when I thought I would never get the novel done. I’m sure Kangaroo Island air helped too.

  Thank you to Aziz ElOuakhoumi for your cultural advice. Part of the inspiration for this book came after taking a trip to beautiful Morocco.

  Thank you to Cath Crowley and Corinne Fenton for sharing the joy of life, writing and books over cups of chai.

  Thank you to the children at the various schools I visited for giving me your opinion on the title and the choice of Ziggy’s name. One of the best things about being a children’s author is meeting my readers.

  As always, I am grateful to Sylvie Martin and Hope Stewart for their support.

  And to my family, who are always there to read through drafts and brainstorm ideas: Steve Clavey, my mum Mabel Wang – who turns ninety-three this year – my daughter Lei Lei Clavey and my son Ren Clavey. You are all wonderful!

  And, of course, I can’t leave out my dog Hero, who waits patiently every day while I write and draw, and who finally gets me away from my desk for a walk in the woods.

  OTHER BOOKS BY GABRIELLE WANG

  The Garden of Empress Cassia

  The Pearl of Tiger Bay

  The Hidden Monastery

  The Lion Drummer

  A Ghost in My Suitcase

  Little Paradise

  The Race for the Chinese Zodiac

  The Wishbird

  Our Australian Girl series

  Meet Poppy

  Poppy at Summerhill

  Poppy and the Thief

  Poppy Comes Home

  The Poppy Stories

  Meet Pearlie

  Pearlie’s Pet Rescue

  Pearlie the Spy

  Pearlie’s Ghost

  OTHER BOOKS BY GABRIELLE WANG

  The girl’s hands came up to the bars and

  she gripped them tightly. She was speaking

  to Boy with her eyes, pleading for help.

  Then a strange and beautiful sound came

  from her throat, rising and falling like the wind.
<
br />   Boy had never heard anything like it.

  And yet it was familiar.

  Oriole’s beloved Wishbird is dying and she must

  leave the Forest to save him. But in the City of Soulless

  there is danger everywhere. Can Oriole and Boy save

  Soulless and the Wishbird, or will the city’s darkness

  prove too great even for magic?

  It’s 1864 and Poppy, disguised as a boy,

  has escaped from the aboriginal mission at Bird

  Creek near Echuca. Her dream is to find her

  brother Gus, who ran away to pan for gold. But

  travelling alone through the Australian bush is

  full of danger and adventure . . .

  Journey with Poppy across all four exciting stories

  about a girl who dreams of a better life during the Gold

  Rush. Resourceful, brave and kind, Poppy

  is an unforgettable Australian girl.

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  First published by Penguin Random House Australia, 2017

  Text and illustrations copyright © Gabrielle Wang, 2017

  The moral right of the author/illustrator has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved

  above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced

  into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means

  (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without

  the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above

  publisher of this book.

  Design by Tony Palmer © Penguin Random House Australia