Beginner's Luck (9 page)

Shelby helped her friend slide down from Blue's back.
Once she had her settled on the lounge cushions, she
set Blue loose. She had planned to get Lindsey comfortable,
and then head back along the path, but she
didn't want to leave her now – not with the stranger,
and not while Lindsey couldn't even run away.

'Hello?' she called out. 'Is anyone there?' She
listened hard for a response but there was none.

She squatted down next to Lindsey. 'Do you want
some water? Is there anything I can get you?'

Lindsey had her eyes closed. She moaned. Shelby
took that for a no.

Shelby stood by the stump near the fire, shining
the torch under the buildings and into the clearing.
She was concentrating so much on the dark places,
and searching for a large figure, that she swung the
torch across several times before she noticed that the
tomahawk was back in its spot in the chopping block.
The torchlight trembled in her shaking hand.

'Lindsey?' she whispered. Her friend didn't answer.
'Somebody is here. I didn't make this fire. He . . .
whoever it is must be here somewhere, and there's a
. . .' She kept the light trained on the tomahawk. It
might not be a good idea to frighten Lindsey. She had
enough to worry about.

Lindsey frowned, but she didn't open her eyes. 'I
just need to lie still for a minute.' Her voice sounded
strained, as though she was holding her breath.

The darkness had sucked all the colour away.
Shelby swivelled the torch in one direction and then
back again, like a lighthouse beam, but it didn't throw
very far, and beyond that she couldn't see anything
except a grey gloom of indistinct shapes.

'Hello?'

Shelby didn't know what to do. She could go and
check the buildings, but every scary movie she'd ever
watched taught her that sticking together was the best
option.

'My friend is hurt,' she called out.

Nothing.

Suddenly she saw a movement. She shone the torch
and saw two lamplight eyes shining at the edge of the
clearing. She gasped and hunkered down over her
knees. Her heart thudded. 'What's that?' she whispered
quickly, like a whoosh –
wassat?
Then the eyes
were gone and she could hear a steady crash, crash,
crash as the thing made its way back into the scrub.

'Roo,' groaned Lindsey. As soon as she said it
Shelby recognised the rhythmic thump of the
kangaroo's tail hitting the ground. She'd heard it the
first time she came here, and many other times when
she'd ridden in the Gully.

Shelby put her hand to her chest and could feel her
heart beating. She squatted down on the log and
rested the torch on her knees for a moment. It rolled
down towards her hips. As it turned over she saw
something else – a flash of white. Shelby prickled all
over with goose bumps. She snatched the torch up
again and pointed where she'd seen the white. It was
just Blue's rump. She held the light on him and then
she saw something else move – not far away, but definitely
separate. 'Who's there?' she called out. Her
voice sounded thin and reedy.

Silence.

And then, 'maa', the sheep sound she'd heard
earlier. It was much closer this time. It made her jump
and let out a surprised yelp. She ran the torch along
Blue's shape and then in front of him. Not a sheep – a
white goat, happily munching away next to Blue.
They both looked up at her.

'There's a goat,' she told Lindsey in a low voice.

Lindsey shifted on the cushion and then moaned.
She opened her eyes for a moment. 'I'd ah . . .' Then
she closed them again.

Lindsey must have been familiar with this place.
She knew the path. Did she know the person who
lived here? Were they friends? Had she come here to
warn Shelby to keep away, or to rescue her?

Shelby focused the torch on the two animals again.
As she watched, the horse and the goat gazed at each
other, and then touched noses, as though they were
the best of friends.

'Lindsey, who's Ida?' Shelby asked.

Lindsey didn't answer.

Shelby stood with her back to the fire, shining the
torch around in an arc. It wasn't cold, but the air was
moist as the dew settled. Her clothes were still damp,
especially around the hems. As the heat from the fire
dried them, she could smell the muddy, swampy odour
all around her, mixing in with the horse sweat and
dirty leather smell that she always carried after a day
of riding.

I stink
, she thought.

She imagined a long hot shower with the water
coming out of the shower rose fast so that it hit the
back of her neck and shoulders like little pins. Then
she dreamed of sitting on the lounge with her feet
tucked up, her pyjamas soft and fresh with laundry
detergent and sunshine, and her hair still damp, clean
and smooth with her favourite green apple conditioner.

Apples . . .
She felt like eating a big serving of one
of those Sara Lee apple strudels, baked so it was really
crisp, brown and flaky on the top – almost burned –
but so hot in the middle that it steamed, even on your
spoon and mixed with vanilla ice-cream and cold
custard. Her mouth watered. She could almost taste
the cinnamon.

Or perhaps she would like a really sweet, fluffy
sponge cake with thick passionfruit icing and cream
and jam in the middle? She imagined the smell that
wafts out of a bakery early in the morning – hot,
sweet grain. It smelt like a hug.

She shined the torch on the goat again, frowning.
Someone must own it, and that person must be somewhere
nearby. Shelby was willing to entertain the idea
that the mystery person was a she. Ida could be a
shaman, or priestess – like Rafiki in
The Lion King
,
except a woman.

The cushions may not have been for Lindsey at all.
Perhaps it was the Rafiki woman's bed? Maybe she
had gone off somewhere and would come back any
minute? Shelby's heart started beating fast again at the
thought. But Ida didn't sound like an evil name. It
sounded like someone's nanna.

Could Lindsey's grandmother live down here? she
wondered. Nannas don't wear flannelette shirts with
the sleeves ripped off – but then, they don't live by
themselves in the scrub either. It didn't make any
sense.

Shelby inhaled deeply.
That's weird.
With all the
thoughts of food, she actually
could
smell bread
baking. The flames were waning a little and so she
stopped swinging the torch around long enough to
throw a few more logs on. She could see the camp
oven still half buried in the fire. As she stood over it
she thought the bread smells were coming from inside.

Shelby picked up a long stick and hooked it under
the handle. She was just about to lift it out when she
heard a voice – a man's voice.

'Don't touch it!'

'Ahh!' she shouted in surprise. Shelby let go of the
stick she'd been using and it clattered to the ground.
She swung the torch around. She saw a figure in the
gloom behind the water tank.

'Get back!' she shouted. 'I have a . . . a weapon!'

'Nonsense!' he shouted back. 'You've got a belly
ache and a case of the heebie-jeebies!'

He stepped out from behind the water tank. Shelby
saw an old man wearing a faded red tracksuit that
zipped up at the front and a black beanie. He had a
short white beard.

'Santa!' she whispered, and then felt embarrassed.

He started to walk towards the fire. Shelby backed
away, shining the torch on his face. She stood protectively
over Lindsey. 'Don't come any closer. I know
kung fu.'

The man held his hand up, blocking the glare from
his eyes. 'Kung fu schmu. Get that thing out of my
face.' He kept walking. Shelby's hands were shaking.
She would clock him on the head with the torch if she
had to.

He squatted down over the campfire and moved
the coals about with the stick Shelby had been using.

'I should've waited until the coals were thick and
hot. I kept waiting for you to go and you never left, so
I put this together in a hurry. It will be all burnt and
ruined and horrible on the outside, but the inside
should be all right.'

'My friend is hurt,' she said. 'I need to get her to
the hospital.'

'All in good time,' he replied.

'Who are you?' she asked.

'Never mind that. I know who you are. Another
busybody come down here interfering. This young
lady promised me you'd be in and out of here in ten
minutes.' He nodded towards Lindsey. 'It's been the
longest ten minutes of my life!'

The man had wild scraggly eyebrows, knitted
together over bright blue eyes rimmed with red.
Shelby had been taught about Stranger Danger at
school, but none of that had really prepared her for
being stuck in a ravine with a scruffy Santa look-alike.

Lindsey shifted. She wheezed.

'It moves!' he said, shuffling around the fire to
where Lindsey was lying.

'This is my friend,' Shelby said. 'She fell.'

'I think I've broken something,' Lindsey whispered.

He hunkered down over Lindsey and gently pulled
the neck of her tee-shirt down, exposing her shoulder.
Shelby gripped the torch tightly, ready to whack him
over the head with it, but Lindsey didn't seem to be
afraid.

'Yep. You've broke your collarbone, silly twit,' he
said. 'It hurts, doesn't it?'

Lindsey nodded. 'And my ankle.'

He shifted his weight backwards and gently took
her foot in his hand. He manipulated the joint for a
moment. 'That's just a sprain. You'll be up and about
in a couple of days. The collarbone, though – that's
going to be long and painful.'

'Great,' Lindsey huffed.

'You two know each other!' Shelby said.

'No,' they said in unison.

'Don't want to either, he's a grump,' Lindsey
added.

'Only when you're annoying,' he retorted.

'What are you doing down here?' Shelby asked.

'That's not your business,' the man snapped. 'She
always asks silly questions,' he said to Lindsey.

Shelby wasn't sure what to do. She felt like an
outsider, as though she had walked into a church in
the middle of a sermon, or into a classroom when the
lesson had already started. She decided that for now it
was probably best just to go along with it and hope
that the situation would become clear.

'All questions are silly – and dishonest too,' he
continued. 'People only ever ask a question to confirm
or refute a judgement they have already made,' he
answered, waggling his finger. 'Statements are much
more sensible.'

'But you asked a question,' she retorted.

'I did not!' he protested. 'I've never asked a
question in my life!'

'Yes, you did. Before, you said, "It hurts, doesn't
it?"'

He blinked. 'That's a rhetorical question. It doesn't
count.'

Shelby shook her head. 'I think you make up the
rules to suit yourself.'

'There! A statement. Much better,' he said,
grinning. His face crinkled like a scrunched-up paper
bag and Shelby noticed he had a big space between his
two front teeth.

'In the cabin there's a first aid kit in the cupboard
under the sink. There are three enamel mugs in there
that you can bring back as well,' he instructed.

Shelby didn't want to leave Lindsey alone with him
– not until she was sure that Lindsey would be safe.

'Why don't you do it?' she asked.

He gave her a stern look like a school principal,
and she felt herself shrinking away from it.

'Because you're closer and you have the torch,' he
replied.

Lindsey didn't look scared by the old man and so
Shelby jogged back to the doll's house. She had
thought that the door for the cupboard under the
sink was fake, but after she tugged at the handle
for a while the door swung outwards. There were
two shelves. On the bottom shelf there were more
supplies – flour, dishwashing detergent, golden syrup,
powdered milk, a few bottles of olive oil and more
cans. Shelby pushed the goods aside and found a small
tin with a cross marked on the top with green electrical
tape.

On the top shelf was a hotch-potch of crockery,
cutlery and a few pots and pans. She grabbed three of
the mugs, looping their handles through her finger,
and headed back to the fire.

The old man was holding Lindsey's heel in the
palm of his hand. They had managed to get her
gumboot off and were now battling with a sock. Every
time he tried to draw it back a centimetre Lindsey
grumbled.

'You have to be a brave girl,' he said to her. 'We
need to get a bandage on this or it will swell up like a
balloon, and all the kids at school will call you
Lindsey-Monster-Foot. You don't want that to
happen.'

Lindsey started to laugh, but she was holding her
breath with the pain and so she sounded like Eddie
Murphy.

The old man pinched the toe of the sock and
pulled it off her foot. Lindsey winced.

He held out his hand and Shelby passed him a
bandage from inside the first aid kit. He began to
wind it tightly around Lindsey's ankle. Shelby sat
down on the log, holding up the torch so that he could
see what he was doing.

'I need to get her to a doctor,' she said. 'We need
to get home. Our parents will be really worried.'

The man frowned as he wrapped. 'You've never
had a broken collarbone, so you don't understand. We
don't need to get Lindsey to a doctor, we need to get a
doctor to Lindsey. First we need to make her comfortable
and then we're going to talk.' He pointed to the
first aid tin at Shelby's feet. 'There should be some
paracetamol in there.'

Shelby raked through the contents of the tin until
she found the foil-backed row of pills. She looked at
them suspiciously, but Lindsey held out her hand.

'Gimme,' she croaked.

Shelby handed them to her friend and watched as
she dry-swallowed two of them.

The old man reached the end of the bandage and
tied it off with a clip.

'You need to keep this leg raised, young lady.' He
turned to Shelby. 'Hop off that log and roll it over
here.'

Shelby pushed the log until it was in position
under Lindsey's foot and then she sat down cross-legged
on the edge of the lounge cushion.

The old man walked over to the chopping block
and rolled it to the opposite side of the fire from the
two girls. He sat down, holding his hands towards
the heat. The fire cast a glow on his wrinkled face –
orange in the light and purple where the folds of his
skin formed a shadow. He poked the fire with a stick
and sucked at his teeth. Shelby thought he looked like
an old jackeroo.

'How do we get out of here? How are we going to
get a doctor?' she asked him.

He held up his hand, silencing her. 'I'm thinking
about it. Lindsey's fine for now.'

Shelby's stomach made a long gurgling sound. She
put her hand over it, embarrassed.

'You're hungry,' he said.

Shelby nodded.

'We'll have a cup of tea. My damper will be ready
in a little while and if you're good I'll let you have
some. If you're not I'll chase you around with a stick
until you get off my property.'

'This is your property?' Shelby asked. 'Can somebody
please tell me what's going on here?'