Siddon Rock (24 page)

In the room off the upstairs verandah, maybe Jos Morningstar stirred when the first wailing note of his mother's cello flew out of the hall and into the streets. He could have become anxious when the keening music was joined by the howling of the dingoes. It could have been then that he took the torch his mother had given him (
You can switch it on and shine it around the room. Then you will see there is nothing to be frightened by
) and went onto the
verandah where he could see down the street to the hall. Everything would have looked normal.

From the verandah it would have taken only a small resolution to go down the stairs – he did not dress first, his clothes were still on the end of the bed in the morning – with the weak ray of the torch shining on each tread, so that small pale feet stepped into a pool of yellow light – left foot down, right foot down, feet together – to the last step that brought him into the hallway near the Strangers' Room. Maybe he tried to open the door to this room, remembering it from the time Kelpie Crush had taken him in to see the moths.

Did he go out into the street then or did he waver, remembering what Catalin had told him on the way to the pub that afternoon? (
You go to bed and stay there asleep all night.
) Who knows what a six-year-old remembers at times of anxiety, and to hear the music of his mother in distress may well have wiped everything from his mind.

What if – and again, it is only supposition – what if the boy heard something he recognised in the billowing music floating from the hall, something that frightened him, making him run to escape it, sending him rushing towards the bush?

Or supposing he stood there, not knowing what to do, and there was a voice from the shadows in the hall of the pub, the voice of someone he recognised and trusted (
This is a safe place, good people. You know them. You'll be fine
) and that someone took the boy away. Who would know why. There are some things those left behind should
not think on, lest the imagination take them places too dark to escape.

Maybe none of these things happened and his disappearance was something else entirely.

Whatever it was, the only facts known were that Josis Morningstar was not in his bed at the Railway and Traveller's Hotel on the morning after the Spring Ball, and that his clothes were there, in the room, as if he had left – or had been taken – in a hurry. For the rest of the story: it was, of course, what may have happened, in the hallway of the pub, or in the street, or outside in the bush. That is the legacy of the unknown: questions and more questions. That is all there ever is.

 

THE HUSH OF THE EARLY MORNING
after the Spring Ball could have been just the normal Sunday sound, which was quieter than during the mundane, workaday week. Or it could have been the sound of reticence returning to the citizens of Siddon Rock after the amazing events of the night before. Whatever the stories told about this day, there was often mention of the town mourning before even Catalin herself.

This much was well known, from what Catalin told the searchers and Inspector Bailey of the capital police:

Very early, Catalin, full of tears for her mother, walked to the pub to get Jos. She went up the outside stairs and along the first floor verandah to the open French doors into his room. When Jos was not there Catalin went to the kitchen, thinking he would be looking for breakfast, but the humming of the refrigerators seemed loud in the dim room where blinds were still drawn and the wood-stove unlit.

Then she hurried back to the hospital, following the track made by Macha's nightly patrol, thinking he may have
woken and decided to go home this way. As she ran up the steps to their rooms she expected him to jump at her as he did each morning, clinging to her waist like a monkey.
Monkey-Jos
, she'd laugh.
Little monkee-Josee.
Jos was not there, and the dirty green and grey colours that always hung in the corners now filled the room.

Catalin ran back to the pub. She tried to hide the fear in her voice when she woke Marge and Bluey Redall, who went and found Kelpie Crush. The alarm went out when Bluey said that he had looked in on Jos about half-past eleven, and
yes, there he was, sleeping like the baby he is. Definitely there. I covered him up.
Marge said she had opened his door on her way upstairs after she arrived home from the ball.
I'm sure he was there, asleep under the blankets.
But she couldn't swear on the Bible that it was Jos in the bed, and not a distorted shadow thrown by the street light, or maybe just a rumpled bundle of blankets.

Bluey Redall telephoned Sinclair Johnson, who went next door and woke Doctor Allen. On their way to the pub they stopped at Abe Simmons'.
Harry just walked past
, Abe said, and they hurried to catch up to him. At the pub they found others who had heard, and a search party quickly formed and spread across the town.
We'll find the little devil in someone's backyard or playing at the football oval
, they said.

So the searchers worked their way through the town, each time explaining that
young Jos Morningstar, the Balt kid, has gone missing, and d'ya mind if I just take a look in the backyard and the shed?
They looked under every tank
stand and every accessible under-house. They opened every door, including the back and front doors of shops, checking behind counters and shelving. They went backstage at the Shire Hall in case he had been out before Gawain Evans had locked up the night before. The rear of the
District Examiner & Journal
office looked promising for a moment with the back door swinging open, but it had only slipped its catch. The library was opened, in case he had found a way in.
He knows many English words now
, Catalin told the searchers.
He loves going to the library.

Harry Best went to every family who had children at his school, mentally ticking an attendance roll as he went. At each home he saw which children were there and asked when they had last seen Jos.
Just stay home today
, he said as he left.
No use making it all harder than it is.

The Catholic priest abandoned the service as the members of his congregation left en masse. The women took their families home with a silent thanksgiving that the missing was not one of theirs, and the men joined the search.

On the way to the Two Mile Brigid Connor stopped her truck at the cottage and called Young George out.
The Balt kid's gone missing,
she said.
You gonna go help?

Maybe he was thinking of David, or maybe his natural kindness impelled him, but need reached Young George in the dark place he had inhabited since the sale of his farm.
Kids can't just go off,
he said.
We've gotta look after our kids.
And with that, Young George Aberline rejoined the community of Siddon Rock.

At the Methodist church people were taking their seats when Bluey Redall entered and overrode Siggy Butow's protests at the interruption.
A kid's more important than your words
, the publican snapped. And so the last of the men in the town joined the search for Jos Morningstar.

These were things that were known to be done. Later, when they tried to put together the complete story, they found that it was like patterns in a cheap kaleidoscope bought at the Annual Show: only some pieces could be seen at any one time, and even these kept rearranging themselves.

Granna thought she knew the whole story, but she was not certain and so did not ever say anything. Nell knew, but when she tried to tell them they couldn't understand.

Harry Best, Sinclair Johnson, Doctor Allen and Abe Simmons were following Macha's patrol track around the outskirts of the town. They were passing the silo when they saw Kelpie Crush standing there looking up the track up the rock.

Are you coming or going, mate
? Abe Simmons called to him.

Kelpie turned.
Just going up to check Henry Aberline's cave
, he said.
Seems like a place where a kid would hide out.

Hey, your nose is bleeding
, Doctor Allen said.
Let me look.

It's just fine.
Kelpie Crush sounded angry. But Doctor Allen was already gently feeling the swollen nose.

How did you do this
? he asked.
It must have been a powerful thump, it could be broken.

Buggered if I know
, Kelpie said, pulling away from the doctor.
I must have misjudged and walked into a piece of rock. I didn't see anything but it felt like I was walking into a wall. I'll just keep going now and come to see you later.

Harry went to put his hand on Kelpie's arm, to hold him back, but recoiled from the glare in the man's blue eye. He moved back and Kelpie ran up the track, disappearing quickly around a bend. Harry hid how shaken he was until later when the men talked about the strangeness of the day. Then he admitted he had feared the barman at that moment, and felt that he didn't know him at all; that he was suddenly a stranger.

Catalin did not stop. She walked the town over and over, calling to Jos in several languages. In the dust at intersections of the streets she wrote messages for him in combinations and shapes of letters no-one else could understand. In Hungarian she wrote
Jossy, ne felj!
, and
Lauf in irgendein Haus; dort findest Du Freunde
was in the barking text of German.

Some of the townspeople were uneasy with these public messages they could not decipher, but said,
It's only for a short time, until he's found.
But when Catalin wrote in chalk on the side of the Farmers' Co-op,
Jos, Ich hab Dich lieb
, Harry Best suggested,
If he can read this
,
he'll surely be home. Why don't you wait at the pub with Marge.

I want to go home first
, Catalin said,
to check my cello. Just in case it tells me something.

Cat … I wish there was something I could do. Your mother yesterday; now Jos running off.

He will be back. Soon. I just want to make sure.

So Harry Best walked with Catalin to the hospital. She opened the cello case, hesitating a moment before taking it out. But on the back there was no picture of Jos and the text still read as it had the night before:

 

Margit Catalin 1879 to 1930 … Viktoria Margit 1899 to 1948 …

Catalin Viktoria … Josis Matthieu …

 

At the pub Marge Redall made breakfast for the search party while Catalin sat at the kitchen table with the cello case beside her.

I feel so bloody helpless, Cat
, Marge said.
It's the not being able to do anything except wait that's so frustrating. But he WILL be found.

It's my fault
, Catalin said.

No, love, no. Don't think like that. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. It's my pub, so my fault.

It's my fault
, Catalin repeated.
My fault. I should not have left him.

The whispers started later that morning, like the small
tic
of a match against striker.
Funny that the Balt woman don't cry
, someone said. This could have been anyone at all, but was probably Mary Placer, known for sobbing loudly and easily.

Marge Redall had no time for whimpering in any shape or form.
Don't be bloody stupid
, she snapped.
Not everyone turns into a wet rag at the drop of a hat.

But the fuse had been lit.

Maybe she did it herself, and hid the body somewhere. She was really late to get to the ball. Maybe all that stuff about her mother dying was a cover. Maybe she got someone else to do it. Maybe …
There were some who were convinced, but there were others who thought otherwise.

He must have been taken
, they said,
by someone travelling through the town at night.
This had some serious consideration, but was generally dismissed when Bluey said that no-one had gone into the bar that night, either familiar or stranger. There were, however, one or two who held to this theory.

An unthinkable thing was raised in a small group, in a whisper.
Could it be someone in the town? Someone we know who has taken away the boy?

Wonder where Kelpie got to
, someone said. But this thought was too dangerous, and quickly pushed away.

The general agreement was that Jos had woken early and wandered away to play. He was out there somewhere, and so he would be found.

After the town had been scoured, the searchers gathered at the pub and there was no argument that the police had to be called in from the capital. Young George Aberline got on the phone.
A kid's gone missing
, he said, and this was
enough.
Three hours
, was the reply,
we'll fly a tracker out with Inspector Bailey. But it'll be three hours before we can get there – about lunch-time. Where can we land?

Have to be on the road north of the town
, Young George said.
Look for the largest salt lake, it's not far from the rock at the edge of town. Tell your bloke not to use the lake surface. It looks firm but he'd end up drowning himself.

Back in the bar men clustered in uneasy groups.
They'll be here in three hours
, Young George said to the bar in general.
I'm not waiting around. Anyone who wants to come with me, I'm going to the lake. Then I'll push out to Brigid Connor's two dams. Bloody water's a magnet to kids. And I'm going to try to find Macha Connor – if anyone's seen a wandering kid, it'll be her. Just a minute—