Songlines

by Carolyn Denman

  ‘It’s “Ben” now, is it?’ was all he’d said. I’d been trying hard to get used to calling him by his real name, out loud at least. Still, Noah hadn’t sounded pleased at the news and it would have been more than awkward if he’d answered the door and I’d had to ask his permission for us to go for a swim without him. Especially after the last argument we’d had. It was bad enough having to ask Nicole as it was. Luckily Mrs Ashbree found a job for Nicole to do before she could ask to come along. Naturally she assumed we wanted time alone. She wasn’t wrong, just not for the right reasons.

  The Ashbree kids and I had paddled down the river on mattresses plenty of times before, but we always stopped and got out before the river got down to our fence line. This time we would need to explore a lot farther. We had brought with us a small plastic drum with a screw-on lid for our supplies, so we took off our shoes and socks and stuffed them, with our phones, into a plastic bag inside it, and then tied it to my mattress with a bit of rope. I left my T-shirt and shorts on over my bathers, having long since learnt that bikinis were not reliable when you hit the rapids. Then Bane put his shirt into the drum as well and I tried not to look but it was hard not to appreciate the view. He had really bulked up in the last couple of weeks of farm work. Possibly because he wasn’t throwing up anymore.

  As I did a last minute check for air leaks, Bane eyed the mattresses dubiously. ‘Are you sure this is safe?’

  Launching myself with a delighted yodel onto my mattress, I started to paddle downstream. ‘You tell me, Ben. Am I safe?’

  I laughed as he scrambled to get on board his own restless mount to follow, because he made a sound like a squeaky toy when his chest hit the freezing water.

  ‘Please just don’t get too far ahead. I haven’t done this before, you know.’

  ‘Seriously?’ I spluttered. ‘How have you survived the summers here?’

  ‘In the river, like everyone else, just not on unsafe floatation devices. How the hell do I steer this thing?’

  ‘With your hands. But only if you have to. Let the river take you, it’s more fun that way … Oh, but watch out for sharp rocks.’ The current picked me up and sped me around the next river bend and I had to lean heavily to one side to avoid a huge slimy log that could have impaled my steed. I had forgotten how much fun this could be. I hadn’t done it in years. I missed having Noah there to race me. Somewhere behind me, I heard a squawk and a splash as Bane tried to figure out how to steer past the log.

  Twenty minutes later we drifted slowly down a wide section of the river. We were surrounded by open paddocks and the sun was scorching, so naturally I dived off the mattress to cool down. Bane soon joined me. Bracing myself, I got ready to dunk my head underwater. Perhaps if I was prepared for the music I could prevent myself from crying like a weaned calf. Cool water drew the heat from my scalp deliciously.

  Nothing else happened.

  Holding my breath and pausing just beneath the surface, I could still hear the music, but it was far off, nothing like it was after graduation. It made a certain sense. The music must join the river near the cave somewhere. I could always try dunking my head in the river every few metres until I found where it started. Sadly that was the best lead I had.

  We swam alongside the mattresses for a while, enjoying the feel of the insistent current. I watched Bane floating on his back, looking more relaxed than I had ever seen him before, and all of a sudden I realised I was genuinely anxious about what his reaction would be if it turned out that Eden was real. He just looked so serene and gentle, and I didn’t want him to go back to being so … hateful. It was obvious that things were easier for him now, given that he didn’t have to deal with nausea just to walk down to the shops anymore, but what was he going to say when he found out about me? About Eden? And what if I didn’t find the path at all? I was going to look like a right dork then.

  Not long after our swim we reached the boundary between the Ashbree and Gracewood farms. We ducked under the token bit of wire fence and kept floating. None of the land had been cleared from here on in, until the river got much closer to our house, so I really didn’t know what to expect up ahead. We both started to look out for rocks that might puncture our little rafts. The bush gave us some shade, which was lovely, but it came with a plague of mosquitoes as payment.

  A few minutes later Bane called out to me, sounding very agitated. I had been concentrating so hard on peering into the water that I hadn’t noticed the sound of rapids getting louder. These ones sounded messy, too. Within seconds he was calling me frantically so I began to back-paddle to let him catch up, and then the drum decided to take a different path around a rock than the one my mattress had taken and I was swung around with a jerk. Pulling hard on the rope, I tried to drag myself back to the rock to untangle things but the current was too strong. Still, I figured that at least it would give him a chance to get over to where I was. The rock had other ideas. The rotten thing turned out to be just slippery enough to let the rope slide over the top of it once it was pushed by enough water, and suddenly my mattress was free again. Of course, in its excitement, my wild beast of a mattress slipped out from under me and I spent the next few moments trying desperately to climb back on and failing miserably.

  That was when I realised we were in real trouble.

  As we came around a bend in the river the rapids got rougher and I could hear a roaring sound that was definitely unwelcome. The last thought I had as I plummeted over the edge of the waterfall was that I should have thought to bring the old bike helmets.

  Chapter 17

  I tried to hold my breath as best I could but as I slammed into the water at the base of the falls, all my precious air was forced out of my lungs like a violent sneeze, and the tenuous grip I still had on the air mattress wasn’t enough to stop it from escaping. Fighting hard not to breathe in again, I felt rocks pummel me from every side and then a stabbing pain tore into my back.

  It was hard not to panic.

  Who was I kidding? I was panicking like a fifteen-year-old at her first B&S ball. I had no idea which way was up so I just curled up and hoped like crazy that I wouldn’t hit my head. My lungs began to scream and I sternly reminded them that I was good at holding my breath. Better than anyone I knew. Even Noah had given up trying to challenge me during our primary school swimming lessons. Another rock hit my face, I took a reflexive gasp, choked, and all residual self-control was lost. Flailing madly, I felt the rope brush my shoulder and made a grab for it with one hand, hoping that the drum still tied to its end would still be able to float. But which end? The pressure of the water was unbelievable. Like a schnitzel steak I was being pummelled ruthlessly from every direction.

  My progress was agonisingly slow as I pulled my way along the rope, and my limbs felt feeble as I continued to struggle … until the deliciously desolate music began to filter through the swirl of violent water around me, its familiar sorrow distracting me from my battle. It overwhelmed my thoughts with tender grief as if I had already died, so that it became almost impossible not to just give in and let it happen. The beautiful symphony of sadness saturated every cell in my body with its melancholy echo.

  The world stopped. Peace beckoned me with sad longing, calling me to just let go of the burning in my chest. If I would just let the water in, the fire would be quenched, and the loneliness would be gone forever … but I couldn’t give in to it because something powerful was blocking my way. A pressure around my waist, tugging and burning and hauling me away from the siren’s call. Certain that I was being dragged sideways, I tried to compensate but then my left ear broke the surface of the water.

  Air was the best invention ever.

  Gasping and spluttering, I thrashed about with reflexive greed for more oxygen, and had to forced myself to relax. Apparently it was difficult to help a drowning person when they were panicking and wriggling around, so I just concentrated on breathing in the deliciously abundan
t elixir. Strangely, I felt quite calm with the feel of Bane’s arm around my waist.

  He dragged me up onto the riverbank and pried the rope from my clenched fist, and both of us coughed for quite a while. Somehow he managed to haul the drum in as well. There was no sign of either mattress. In utter relief I lay back, gasping, but as soon as I touched the ground, I cried out in agony. Turning painfully, I raised my shirt and tried to see what had happened. Just under my shoulder blade was a jagged wound where I had been gouged by a rock and it was bleeding everywhere. That was going to need stitches. How queasy would Bane get if I made him stitch me up? Looking at his face I remembered that might not be necessary. He looked like he was about to have an aneurism.

  ‘Wait!’ I gasped, putting my hand on his chest as he reached out to me. His skin felt like it was on fire. ‘It makes you dizzy, remember? Maybe you should just wait and recover a bit first.’ Another coughing fit suffocated me as punishment for trying to speak too soon.

  ‘Lainie, you’re bleeding like crazy! I can’t just sit here and watch you!’ he rasped through gritted teeth, panting. He sounded furious and I didn’t blame him one bit. We both could have easily been killed because of my stupidity. Muscles bulged in his shoulders as he held his fists clenched, trembling. He clearly wasn’t going to recover until he’d worked his freaky mojo on me, so reluctantly I turned my back towards him, wincing as I felt the wound open further. He lifted my T-shirt over my head and I bit my lower lip to keep from squealing again. It really stung.

  As before, he placed both his hands over the wound and I felt an intense heat, almost as painful as the wound itself. It was so hard not to jump away that I found myself swearing like a trooper. Then it was done. I gasped at the absence of pain as much as from the shock and looked over my shoulder to try to see what had happened. It was perfect. Not even a red patch remained to show where it had been. Astounded, I turned back to thank him, but he’d passed out.

  A couple of minutes later I watched him shudder as he came to. Having found the contents of the drum still dry, I had propped his head onto his rolled up shirt as a pillow but I didn’t think it had helped much. He had a large purple bruise forming on his elbow and probably more elsewhere, but I was too shy to look.

  ‘How do you feel?’ I asked.

  ‘Like I jumped off a cliff, landed on some sharp rocks, and then burst into flames,’ he groaned, sitting up and holding his head in his hands. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Unbelievably good,’ I said, prodding at my cheekbone where I was sure I’d been bruised, but there was nothing there. ‘I mean, I actually feel better than I did before we got into the river. If we could just bottle that healing power of yours we’d make squillions.’ I didn’t even feel tired anymore. ‘Thank you, Ben,’ I said seriously. ‘You saved my life, again. I’m sorry you had to heal me; it’s obviously hard on you. But in my defence I did try to get you to recover a bit first. You really should have listened.’

  ‘No, Lainie, I’m afraid that just wasn’t an option. You have no idea what it feels like for me when you’re hurt.’

  ‘Well, then, I’m sorry I let myself get hurt.’

  ‘Was it worth it?’ he asked unsteadily, assessing some of his ribs with his fingertips and then inspecting his elbow with a sour look on his face. ‘Are we any closer to what you wanted to show me? I wish you would just tell me what’s going on.’ He was still fuming, but seemed to be making an effort not to let it show.

  I looked up at the waterfall again. It was at least a five-metre drop. No wonder our little childhood boats had never made it through. What an idiot I’d been, bringing us here without knowing what the conditions would be like. My father had died in this river, after all. The thought made my chest hurt.

  ‘I’m trying to find a cave. And hopefully some evidence that someone else has been around. The problem is, I’m not sure if this is anywhere near where I’m meant to be looking,’ I admitted.

  ‘Well I’d say we must be close, given that there’s a canoe on the other side of the river.’

  I looked to where he was pointing and sure enough, there was an old brown canoe tied up to a cape wattle on the western side of the riverbank. It was tucked well under the low branches so it wasn’t easy to spot. My appreciation of his eyesight was quickly followed by a surge of relief as I realised I hadn’t risked our lives entirely for nothing. We had to be close.

  Bane finally agreed that we would have to cross the river again and this time we didn’t take any chances, wrapping the rope around our hands and using the barrel for support. With both of us kicking it wasn’t hard to get across, and we only had to walk back upstream a short way to get back to the little boat. Discouragingly, it had no stories to tell. It was empty, so we kept going until I noticed a small creek draining into the river that just begged to be followed.

  We slipped and staggered our way upstream for quite some time, fighting off swarms of gnats and prickly branches. Just as I was considering giving up, the creek rounded a bend and disappeared under an outcrop of rock. I turned to Bane and smiled wickedly. A rocky path betrayed where the creek probably used to run in ages past and we followed it into a cave, which felt very familiar.

  The cold air that hit us as we entered was like a breeze from Antarctica. Except that it smelled amazing. Sort of like chalk dust. In the dim light I could just make out where the creek flowed through the cave to head outside.

  It suddenly hit me that this was most likely where Harry had sourced our ‘upstream’ water supply, and sure enough when I tasted the water it had the satisfying tang of home. It tasted right. I emptied our water bottles of the nasty stuff we had brought with us and refilled them from the stream, wishing I had thought to bring something bigger.

  Bane, in the meantime, had been exploring the back of the cave. In case there were drop bears. He returned and looked at me quizzically.

  ‘What did you just do?’ he asked.

  ‘I just drank a magic potion.’

  ‘You feel better.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘There’s something in this water that I need. And the mining has been contaminating the river, so I can only get it here, close to its source, before it joins with the river water.’

  ‘Should I drink some too? Will it cure me?’

  Cure him? I hadn’t thought of his compulsion in that way before, but I shouldn’t have been surprised that it felt to him like something that needed to be cured. For some reason I felt a bit hurt by that, although it was fair enough. Who would want to live chained to another person by gut-wrenching nausea? I offered him the bottle.

  ‘Tastes just like normal water to me. Nice and cold though. Is it supposed to taste different?’

  ‘It tastes delicious to me. Like a cold beer on a hot day. Almost addictive. My hands have stopped trembling.’

  ‘I think I’ve found something at the back of the cave,’ he said, handing me back the bottle. I followed him further inside to where the pale rock face fell into shadow, revealing the start of a narrow tunnel.

  ‘I feel like some sort of treasure hunter looking for pirate’s gold,’ I sniggered.

  ‘Right. Pirates of the Wimmera. Careful, the floor isn’t very even.’

  Sure enough, in the dim light I could see that a lot of loose rock had been shaken down from the walls.

  ‘There was a landslide somewhere near here a couple of weeks ago,’ I warned him.

  ‘You tell me this after I’ve entered the dark gloomy cave?’

  ‘Or possibly a cave-in.’

  ‘Awesome. Thanks.’

  We travelled down the tunnel for what felt like a long time but probably wasn’t. At times we had to duck quite low to avoid stalactites that looked like booby traps from a computer game, and at one point Bane grabbed me just in time to stop me from falling into a freezing pool of water. He could definitely be handy to have around. It was a pity he had to be so s
mug about how useful his phone was as a torch after I’d teased him so thoroughly about how pointless it was to have it when there was no reception whatsoever.

  We stopped at the threshold of an uneven cavern, where the sound of the tiny stream echoed in hushed tones like a patient sigh. Bane’s harsh light slipped across the flowstone floor to reveal a much drier area beyond. The glow stretched up for a long way above us with only vague shadowy protrusions of rock to indicate that it even had a ceiling somewhere. Creeping forwards in muted respect for the secretive atmosphere, we finally found what must have caused the ground to shudder that day. There had been a serious rockslide. The way forward was blocked. The huge pile of debris looked so overwhelmingly immoveable that I sat down on the rubble and started to cry. Now that I was faced with its solid reality, I couldn’t help imagining that Harry was crushed under it somewhere. Aunt Lily had been so confident that he was okay but I just didn’t know how much to believe. I needed to see for myself, or find something—anything—to reassure me that he was alive somewhere.

  Bane came and sat next to me. ‘Sorry, Lainie, I don’t know what you were hoping to find but we can’t go any further. Please don’t cry.’ His unexpected kindness stung.

  ‘I’m crying because Harry was around here when the rock fall happened. I’m terrified that he might be dead!’ I sobbed into his shoulder, too distressed to care what he thought about my girly blubbering.

  ‘I thought your aunt said he was away on personal business? Why hasn’t someone called the police?’

  ‘Aunt Lily said she had some way of knowing for certain that he was all right. I’d hoped that maybe if I got close enough I might have a vision of him to prove it, but I can’t sense him at all!’