Song for a Scarlet Runner

by Julie Hunt

  ALSO BY JULIE HUNT

  AND PUBLISHED BY ALLEN & UNWIN

  GRAPHIC NOVEL

  KidGlovz

  illustrated by Dale Newman

  JUNIOR FICTION

  Little Else: On the Run

  Little Else: Trick Rider

  Little Else: Ghost Hunter

  illustrated by Beth Norling

  PICTURE BOOKS

  The Coat

  illustrated by Ron Brooks

  Precious Little

  with Sue Moss

  illustrated by Gaye Chapman

  This project was assisted through Arts Tasmania by the Minister for the Arts

  First published in 2013

  Copyright © Text, Julie Hunt 2013

  Copyright © Cover and text illustrations, Dale Newman 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Email: info@allenandunwin.com

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the

  National Library of Australia

  www.trove.nla.gov.au

  ISBN 978 1 74331 358 9

  EISBN 978 1 74343 162 7

  Cover design by Ruth Grüner

  Set in 11 pt Sabon by Ruth Grüner

  This book was printed in February 2013 at McPherson’s Printing Group,

  76 Nelson St, Maryborough, Victoria 3465, Australia.

  www.mcphersonsprinting.com.au

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  TO SUE MOSSCO

  CONTENTS

  1. THE OVERHANG

  2. LUCK

  3. THE SHORT STRAW

  4. THE STRANGER

  5. GLOW BEETLES

  6. THE ESCARPMENT

  7. THE SLEEK

  8. THE GREEN ROAD

  9. AMOS LAST

  10. THE LAST CHILDREN

  11. THE SECOND MIST

  12. DRIP CAVE

  13. THE GREEN MIST

  14. THE SWAMP HAG

  15. LILY

  16. EADIE

  17. THE MARSH AUNTIES

  18. EADIE’S HIDE

  19. THE ISLANDS OF FLOATWEED

  20. THE BARGAIN

  21. THE WELCOMING

  22. THE RIVER

  23. THE HERB QUEEN

  24. MOTHER MOSS

  25. THREADMOSS

  26. HUB

  27. THE NIGHT MARKETS

  28. THE THREE SISTERS

  29. THE UNDERCAVERN

  30. THE SILTMAN

  31. THE SILVER RIVER

  32. THE SILTMAN’S BOY

  33. SIFTING SILT

  34. THE WARRIOR’S WAY

  35. SWOON

  36. SEARCHING

  37. THE FLOWER

  38. THE GREAT HOUND

  39. SWEET SAGA!

  40. LONGREACH

  41. STAKED

  42. THE EVERLASTING DAISY

  43. SONG FOR A SCARLET RUNNER

  44. THIEF OF TIME

  45. THE CHURN

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  THE OVERHANG

  Marlie and I lived at the Overhang, near the place where three roads met. One road went west to the Badlands. No one ever passed that way. It was the same with the road to the east – if you followed it you’d end up in the marshes, which stretched forever. Nobody went in that direction, and you’d never expect to see anyone coming from there. Only the road from Skerrick was used, and that was the one I watched, from high up on my ledge.

  ‘Peat, get down. You won’t make her come any faster by looking!’

  I couldn’t see my sister but I could hear her. She was in the yard below, putting hay in the bails and getting the buckets ready for milking.

  ‘Come on,’ she yelled. ‘Come on, come on, come on . . . ’ She was calling the cows, but she was also calling me.

  I ignored her and stared along the road, following it over the hills until it became a narrow track that disappeared into the valley where Skerrick lay. There was only one person who used the road and that was Wim, our auntie. She came up every month to bring us supplies and to collect the cheeses we made. Sometimes, if the weather was clear, I could see her as a tiny dot in the distance; then I’d know she would arrive in two days’ time, walking slowly because she always carried a heavy load – vegetables from her garden, flour, corn and lamp oil. Even with an empty pack, it would still take her at least four days to walk all the way from Skerrick.

  Marlie and I longed for Wim’s visits because she was the only person we saw. You might think it strange that two girls would live all by themselves up there at the Overhang, but that’s the way it was. Our job was to look after the cattle. Every day we took them out to graze and every night we brought them back to the yard.

  There were seven cows: Bella, Pem, Minka, Ellie, Creamy, Brown Cow and Skye. And each one had a calf except for Bella, who had the twins, Bright and Little Shy. Bright was my favourite even though he caused me a lot of trouble. He was brave and cheeky, and in the evenings when we locked the calves into the night cave, he was the one who always refused to come. Marlie lost patience with him but I thought it was funny the way he dug in his toes and wouldn’t budge. Most nights Bella had to help. She’d walk right up to the entrance and pretend she was about to go in, even though she was much too wide to fit. Only then would Bright skip through. I’d have to close the gate behind him quickly before he changed his mind.

  We separated the calves from the cows at night so we could milk in the morning. If the calves were on the cows all day and all night there wouldn’t be any milk for us – not that it was really for us, it was for the people of Skerrick. We made the cheese for them.

  Skerrick was the nearest settlement, the only settlement. You wouldn’t call it a town, or even a village – it was just a scattering of huts with walls made of stone and roofs of sod. None of the huts had windows, because there was nothing to see.

  Most valleys lead somewhere – they open up into new country. But the valley where Skerrick lay – Bane Valley, it was called – ended in a steephead, a solid rock wall. The huts were built at the base of it and the sides of the valley were so steep that no sun ever reached there.

  It was much better to live at the Overhang, even if it was just a rock shelter. At least there was a view. From the ledge I could see the entrance to the Bane Valley, and if I climbed higher up the escarpment I could see the sandy country out near the Boulders.

  I would never have wanted to live in Skerrick even if I had been allowed to, but Marlie would have gone back and lived there the next day if she could. She’d been born there – well, we both had, but she’d lived there for six years, and I’d only been there for a day.

  ‘Peat, come down and help me!’

  I took a last look at the road to Skerrick. The sun was in my eyes, so even if Wim was there I probably couldn’t have seen her.

  ‘Coming!’

  LUCK

  I got down the same way I’d come up, through the hole at the back of the ledge. It was a narrow gap and it led int
o the night cave. I squeezed through, then dropped onto the floor, pushing my way through the calves. Bright was standing in front of the gate blocking my path. Typical! I shoved past him and slipped out.

  ‘Any sign of her?’ Marlie handed me my bucket and stool.

  I shook my head and sat down next to Bella. She was the lead cow and she always came in first.

  ‘I don’t know how Wim can bear to live in Skerrick,’ I said, pressing my head into Bella’s warm flank.

  ‘Don’t start that again. You’ve never even seen the place.’

  ‘It’s miserable. The sun never shines there.’

  ‘It does. I can remember playing in the sun in front of our hut.’ Marlie flicked her long hair from her eyes and set her stool down next to Creamy.

  ‘It must have only been for two minutes at midday when the sun was right overhead.’

  Bella shifted her weight and gave a low moo to show she agreed with me. Bright bawled a reply. He was restless, eager to be out with his mother. He bawled again and all the other calves joined in.

  ‘You’re wrong, Peat.’ Marlie raised her voice above the noise. ‘It was often sunny. Ma would sit in the doorway in the sun, shelling peas.’

  ‘She never shelled peas. Peas wouldn’t grow in Skerrick.’

  ‘How would you know? You were only a baby. You’re still a baby.’

  I didn’t reply. The calves settled down and the only sound was the milk squirting into my bucket.

  My mother had made that bucket. She’d made a lot of things around the Overhang. I didn’t remember her, but knew she must have been clever and capable. You could see it in everything she’d left us – this bucket, the spoons she’d carved out of blackwood, and the gate made of woven birch sticks that was strong enough to keep the calves in and the cows out. She’d made my wool dress too, and my trousers, and the felt vest I never took off. They’d belonged to Marlie until she grew out of them. And my mother had made the little cow charm that Marlie wore around her neck. It was carved from horn and it was my sister’s most precious thing. She said it brought her good luck.

  My mother hadn’t been too lucky herself – or perhaps it was me who’d brought her bad luck. The trouble had started when I was born. There was a big man who lived in Skerrick. His name was Alban Bane and he was the boss of everything – the land, the huts, the people. He was especially the boss of my mother, because she was married to him. On the day I was born he took one look at me lying in my mother’s arms and a fury ran through him. My hair was not brown, like his, or all the other people of Skerrick’s. It was red. And my eyes were a different colour too, not dark like everyone else’s. My eyes were even different from each other – one was brown and one was green.

  When he saw me, Alban had strode outside and rung the bell. It was a huge iron bell mounted on scaffolding beside his hut, and it was rung whenever there was news to be announced, good or bad. Although I didn’t think there would ever have been any good news in Skerrick – it wasn’t that sort of place. Anyway, on my birth day, Alban rang the bell and told everyone that the baby girl was not his, but rather a child from the Badlands, a bastard child, and that my mother, sister and I would be leaving Skerrick that very day, never to return.

  My mother took the only road out of the settlement – the track that led north, to the back country under the escarpment, where the cattle were kept. She knew about the Overhang because she and Wim had spent summers there when they were young. She knew where the water was and how to find food. She could make soup from nettle and hogweed. She knew where the mushrooms would come up and the places she was most likely to find mealy grubs and groundnuts. And the cows meant that every day we could have milk and cheese.

  Marlie remembered the walk. She said our mother carried me in a sling on her back and that her arms were full of the few things she’d been able to collect and tie up in a blanket before Alban Bane had pushed us out of the family hut. The people who had been looking after the cows went back to Skerrick as soon as we arrived.

  Marlie said those cow hands had left the Overhang in a terrible mess. She helped our mother clean it up. The first thing they did was collect fresh bracken to spread on the sleeping ledge, which was behind the cooking bench. Then they put straw on top, to make a soft bed. When that was done they built a rock wall between the living area and the yard, to keep the cows out. Before that, if the cows were in the yard and the weather was rough they would come right in under the ledge to get out of the rain. My mother also put a big stone on either side of the wall to help us climb over. She must have been strong then, to move stones that size.

  I finished milking Bella and put my stool next to Pem. She was a strawberry-coloured cow, like her calf, Jiffi. Wim had told me that Pem was our best milker, because her milk was full of cream. She said our mother had made beautiful cheese from Pem’s milk.

  Our mother was a very good cheesemaker. The cows had liked her, so they gave her extra milk, and sometimes she had as many as six cheeses stored on the shelf against the back wall of the Overhang, lined up in the dark like little golden moons.

  ‘Peas did grow in Skerrick,’ Marlie said. ‘Everything grew there – peas, corn, apples. And it still does. Ask Wim.’

  I didn’t answer. There was no point in asking Wim about Skerrick. She would just shake her head and change the subject. ‘Don’t worry about it, Peat,’ she would sigh. ‘It’s no place for you.’ Then sometimes she would add, ‘It’s no place for anyone, really.’

  THE SHORT STRAW

  When we had finished the milking I opened the gate of the night cave and headed out west with the cows and calves. I hoped Wim wouldn’t come today because if she did I might miss her. I had drawn the short straw. Marlie and I always drew straws to see who would take the cattle out around the time when Wim was due to visit, and we knew we could expect her soon because there were four round stones and three pebbles on the slab in front of our rock pile. Pebbles were days and round stones were weeks. That was how long it had been since Wim was last here.

  We loved Wim’s visits. She’d sit down next to our cooking place and unload her pack while we told her everything that had happened since we’d last seen her – how Ellie was lame and how Bright was the naughtiest calf we had ever had, how he ran ahead when we took the cows out to graze and how we feared we might lose him.

  ‘I’ll bring you a bell to put on him,’ Wim would say. ‘That should help. Have you checked Ellie’s hoof? She might have a stone in it, up high between the toes.’

  Marlie had woken that morning certain that Wim was on her way. It wasn’t just the stone pile: she had seen it in the glow beetles that moved across the roof of the Overhang. She said you could tell the future with them – that they were better than stars. Early that morning she had seen a bright one twinkling overhead. I was half asleep when she’d nudged me.

  ‘See it, Peat?’

  It was still dark, almost dawn. I’d opened my eyes and looked up. A bright beetle was flashing every few seconds. The light was blue-green and it was moving towards the back wall.

  ‘She’ll be here today for sure.’

  ‘That’s what you said yesterday.’

  Marlie’s glow beetles weren’t always right, and this flashing beetle was starting to fade.

  ‘She will come this afternoon,’ she’d said with complete certainty.

  I hoped she’d been right. If Wim came in the afternoon she would stay the night and both of us would see her, but if she came in the morning she might be gone by the time I returned with the cattle.

  I put my arm on Bella’s neck and we walked along the road. The other cows followed, their calves trotting behind. The road ran along the base of the escarpment. There was grass growing beside it, not rich green feed for the cows, just spindly dry grass under a few stunted trees. Beyond that, there was scrub.

  Bright was worse than usual this morning. He ran ahead and was soon out of sight. I didn’t know how Bella had come to have a calf like him. She was steady and tho
ughtful, and if Bright was my favourite calf, she was my favourite cow.

  ‘What are we to do with him?’ I asked her.

  She looked at me with huge calm eyes and gave a soft moo as if to say, ‘Let him be – he’ll come back.’

  As we walked along I thought about the straws. I wasn’t sure Marlie had been completely fair. She had rustled about in the half-light then shoved her fist in front of my face with two bits of straw poking out of it. One was long and wispy, like she was, and the other was short and strong. I liked it better when I had two the same size to choose from.

  I’d studied the straws carefully. It seemed too obvious to pick the long one, but the short one could have been long as well. I decided I wouldn’t be fooled and chose the short straw, plucking it out of Marlie’s fist. It was as long as my finger. She laughed and opened her hand. The long straw went forever. The rest of it had been hidden up her sleeve.

  So here I was. I decided not to go far today. If I stopped at the Boulders and let the cattle graze there, I’d be back in time to see Wim even if she came in the morning.

  Our mother’s grave was near the Boulders. It was just a circle of stones, and they were always getting knocked out of place. One of these days, I thought, I would build a fence around it to keep the cattle out; then I would plant things on it – rockrose and daisies. When we reached the Boulders I began straightening the stones.

  Marlie said she talked to our mother every time she came this way. She told her how we were going and that our hearts were good and strong. Our mother had worried about our hearts because she’d been born with a hole in hers. It hadn’t bothered her in Skerrick, but once she moved to the Overhang the hole got bigger and the cold winds blew through it in winter, Marlie said. Our mother started coughing, and she grew so weak that Wim had to come up and help with the work. Wim stayed and looked after us when our mother died, and she would have stayed forever but Alban Bane made her go back to Skerrick as soon as Marlie was old enough to take over. After that, our aunt had got the job of picking up the cheese.

  I fixed up the circle of stones and then settled down in the shade of a boulder. Bella called out once or twice, and I heard Bright reply. It was getting hot, and there seemed no point in chasing him. He wouldn’t go far. That’s what I told myself anyway, but as the morning wore on I began to worry. I looked at the escarpment and considered climbing up a way to see how far he had gone, but it was steep and crumbling. At the Overhang the rock face was solid and there were plenty of handholds. You could climb as high as you dared.