The Audrey of the Outback Collection (18 page)

Audrey didn’t tell him the word had no ‘h’.

Hugh piggybacked Douglas. Together, they looked like a giant turtle. Audrey hoped Douglas wasn’t squeezing Hugh’s neck too tightly.

It was almost dark, but it was only a short walk to the hall.

Moths fluttered around the outside light above the hall door. More light streamed out of the windows. Audrey heard music and voices.

Boy opened the door to the hall. Inside were swirling dresses and long trousers. Feet clomped, slid and tripped. The air was warm, moist and smelled of wax.

Hugh swung Douglas down. The moment Douglas’s feet touched the floor, he was off like a racing tadpole. He disappeared among the dancers.

‘I’ll f … f … find him,’ said Hugh. ‘He’s p … probably looking for Jessie.’

‘Or cake,’ said Audrey.

She took off her borrowed jacket and swapped her old boots for the new shoes. Boy stood on tiptoes to hang the jacket and Audrey’s boots from a big hook on the wall.

Audrey decided not to try dancing just yet. Someone might scuff the perfect shine on her black shoes.

Packed with dancing couples, the hall was decorated with ribbons and the floor gleamed with polish. Audrey heard boots sliding across the floor. The man playing the squeezebox was huge. His legs oozed over the side of the chair.

Boy looked taller in his long trousers. His shirt had no rips and it was clean. But he still had that familiar cheeky gleam in his brown eyes.

The squeezebox player was really putting on a performance, leaning left, then right. His fingers pressed the keys so fast that Audrey could hardly keep track. Underfoot, the wooden floor vibrated as men pushed their partners around like bouncing wheelbarrows.

Mrs Jenkins walked past with Douglas hanging on one arm and Jessie on the other.

‘There’s me dad.’ Boy pointed to a man with fluffy side whiskers. ‘Mum says he looks like a ferret.’ He gave a lopsided grin. ‘Lucky she doesn’t mind ferrets.’

Mr Jenkins looked a lot like his boys. Except that he was hairier. Mr Jenkins was thin. Audrey was sure that when he stood next to his plump wife, he would seem even thinner.

The hall door opened. A gust of cold wind blew in.

Audrey turned, expecting Mrs Paterson.

But it was Sylvia. The woman with the fluttering, bird-like hands who had helped on the day Mum had fainted. A tall, bald man walked behind her, close enough to be a breathing shadow.

More people arrived and a few red-faced dancers staggered outside for fresh air.

Audrey felt worry niggling at her. Maybe they should have waited for Mrs Paterson. She was old and her ankle shoes might slow her down.

‘Boy.’ She tapped his arm. ‘Mrs Paterson isn’t here yet.’

‘Maybe she isn’t comin’.’

‘She promised. And she was going to wear the blue ribbon around her neck.’

The squeezebox man stopped playing, took out a grey-and-white handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his glistening forehead. Dancers stumbled to a stop, laughing and perspiring.

Suddenly there was a deep rumble from outside, followed by crashing. It sounded like thunder.

People stopped talking. Audrey didn’t know what the sound was, but she knew it was bad by the worried expression on everyone’s faces. A shiver ran down her spine.

Thirty-six

The bald man who had arrived with Sylvia shot out the door into the darkness.

‘What is it?’ cried Audrey.

Before Boy could answer, the moving crowd separated them.

Confused, Audrey looked around. ‘Dougie!’ she called, hoping he would hear and answer.

Mrs Jenkins pushed through to Audrey. She had Douglas on her hip. Both of his arms were tightly around her neck. ‘I’ve got Dougie, Audrey.’

‘What is it? What’s that noise?’

‘Sounds like a flash flood. We had one here a few years back.’

Audrey’s heart thumped. She remembered what Boy said about flash floods, and how you could wake up dead.

Mrs Paterson had to walk past the creek to get to the hall.

‘Mrs Paterson might be stuck out there!’

A hand grasped her arm. She spun round to see Mr Jenkins. Up close, his side whiskers looked even fluffier. His brown eyes bulged a little. He held a kerosene lantern in his other hand. ‘Steady on, little miss.’ Several men and a wiry woman gathered behind him. ‘I’m sure she’s fine, but we’ll go and look for her together.’

The cold night air hit Audrey like a wall as she hurried outside. Lanterns bobbed as people strode towards the creek. With the lanterns and the half-moon, it wasn’t completely dark. But Audrey still had to be careful not to trip on the uneven ground.

The nearby creek had risen over the path. It gushed, bucked and roared like a wild animal. Branches were pushed along like strips of paper. Something large, with fur, tumbled over and over, and was washed away. Perhaps it was a kangaroo.

Audrey had never seen so much water.

‘Careful now, folks,’ said Mr Jenkins.

‘What’s that?’ shouted Audrey. ‘Over there.’

It was a strip of light blue around Mrs Paterson’s neck showing against the midnight black of her dress. She clung to a tree trunk and the water was up to her waist. As Audrey watched, the tree bent, then swayed, with the force of the water. If its roots were dislodged, Mrs Paterson would be swept away with the tree.

Thirty-seven

Mrs Paterson’s mouth opened and closed. But the din of the rushing water tore away her words. A tree branch swept past her. Audrey felt sick at the thought of what would happen if a branch like that hit the old lady.

Mr Jenkins slipped off his jacket and tossed it aside.

Someone handed him a length of rope.

Audrey thought he was going to throw it to Mrs Paterson. But if her hands were frozen, she wouldn’t be able to grab hold of it. And if she let go of the tree trunk to take the rope, she might be captured by the angry floodwaters.

Mr Jenkins kicked off his elastic-sided boots, tied the rope around his own waist and waded into the water. The waiting men held firmly to the rope, ready to reel Mr Jenkins—and Mrs Paterson—back to them.

Mr Jenkins edged closer to Mrs Paterson. The rope went slack, then tight, in turns.

He slipped and fell back into the dark water.

Boy shouted something Audrey couldn’t quite work out. But she didn’t need to hear the actual words to understand that Boy was afraid for his dad.

Mr Jenkins scrambled awkwardly to his feet.

He struggled to get nearer to Mrs Paterson.

Finally, propping himself against the tree trunk, he slipped the rope over his head and looped it about the old lady’s waist. Then he flung one arm around her.

People pulled on the rope. Audrey grabbed hold too. Her hands slipped and stung. Boy was beside her, pulling with all his might.

The wobbly tree trunk that Mrs Paterson had clung to snapped and was swept away in the torrent.

Boy’s dad and Mrs Paterson came closer to the edge of the creek. Hands reached from the crowd and helped them out.

Audrey let go of the rope, stumbled to Mrs Paterson and hugged her.

‘Are you all right?’ shouted Audrey. She could feel the old lady shaking.

‘I … will be. If you loosen your … grip. You are … squeezing me to death.’

‘I do believe that you rescued me.’

Thirty-eight

Audrey sat on a straight-backed chair near Mrs Paterson.

The old woman leaned back on the sitting-room sofa, a brown knitted rug over her legs. There was a long scratch on her right cheek. A dark bruise was forming under one eye. Her ankle was swollen. As usual, Mrs Paterson’s grey hair was pulled into a bun, but two small curls dangled over her forehead.

Douglas lay on the rug in front of the fire, sound asleep, with his thumb jammed in his mouth. His sandy-coloured fringe was damp with perspiration. He had refused to leave either Audrey or Mrs Paterson. But it was late and he had fallen asleep. He twitched, his mind busy with dreams.

Now that everyone had gone back to their own homes, it was quiet except for the crackle of wood in the fire. There was a faint smell of smoke. One of the logs had been a little green.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?’ Audrey asked Mrs Paterson. ‘You could be next to Mum. Until they let her out, anyways.’

‘I do
not
need a hospital.’ Mrs Paterson’s voice reminded Audrey of a bee sting. ‘I prefer my own home. Besides, I’m only resting so
you
don’t fuss.’

Audrey nodded. ‘Resting is on my “Do” list.’

Mrs Paterson raised one eyebrow.

Audrey wasn’t afraid of that eyebrow any more. It popped up and down all the time.

‘Speaking of the hospital, how are your hands, child?’

Audrey looked down at her red palms. ‘They don’t hurt.’

‘Yes, they do. You have rope burn.’

‘Maybe a bit.’

‘You are as bad as I am,’ said Mrs Paterson.

‘Fair dinkum.’ Audrey let her red hands rest in her lap. ‘I’m sorry my new shoes got all scratched.’

‘There will be more shoes.’ Mrs Paterson tapped her fingertips together. ‘I do believe that you rescued me.’

‘
Everybody
did. But I pulled hard on the rope. So did Boy. He’s skinny as a match, but he eats porridge so he’s strong. He’s coming around to see us tomorrow.’

‘It is a pity you did not get your dance after all.’

‘When your ankle’s better maybe
you
can show me how to dance. I don’t reckon
you’d
stomp on my feet.’

‘Perhaps.’

Audrey guessed that this ‘perhaps’ was really a ‘yes’.

‘It would be good to learn how to dance now that my project is finished,’ added Audrey. ‘At first it was hard to find things on your good side. But then it got easier. You’ve got one, all right.’

‘That is a great comfort to me.’ Mrs Paterson looked over at Douglas. ‘If your little brother is to be believed, he has kissed a snail.’

‘Yes, he has.’

‘Have you ever touched one?’

‘Yes, it pulls in its head and hides in its shell.’

‘Precisely.’ Mrs Paterson clasped her hands together. ‘I have been like a snail, hiding in my shell.’

‘You came out of your shell, didn’t you?’

‘I suppose I did,’ said Mrs Paterson.

‘There are lots of funny people here. But you look after each other.’

‘I have friends after all.’

‘I’ve got some new friends here too. And my family’s getting bigger.’ Audrey counted on her fingers. ‘Mum, Dad, Price, Douglas, Pearl, Esther, Sassafras, Buttons, an Expecting and Stumpy.’

Mrs Paterson’s eyebrow went up again at the mention of Stumpy. Luckily, she didn’t know he was hiding in the bedroom because it was cold outside.

‘Now I’m adoptinating
you
,’ added Audrey. ‘And Lionel and Mr Paterson. People can still be in your family, even when they only live inside your head.’

Mrs Paterson’s face moved as though she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

‘So, d’ya reckon I’ll go home a lady?’ asked Audrey.

‘You were a lady when you arrived,’ said Mrs Paterson. ‘I simply did not recognise it. A lady is kind and thinks of others. You do that very well.’

She adjusted the rug over her knees. ‘When your hands are better we will resume our knitting lessons. I will knit socks for Mr Jenkins. After tonight, he will need a new pair.’

‘Can I do red, like your thing with the arms? I like red.’

‘That
thing
will be a cardigan,’ said Mrs Paterson. ‘You may start with a scarf, and we will see how you go.’

‘Should we shake hands on it, like Dad does?’

‘I think we trust each other, don’t you?’

Audrey nodded. ‘I reckon it’s another one of those miroolcools.’

Audrey’s Big Secret

Her shadow arms flailed on the bedroom wall.

One

Audrey dragged a cardigan over her nightgown. Her shadow arms flailed on the bedroom wall. The shadow was bigger than Audrey, as though it had grown without her. She didn’t like looking at it and turned her back.

She wriggled her toes on the soft kangaroo-skin rug. Outside it would be cold and dark. Wind hissed dust against the wall, and the hessian curtain blew in. Everything would be coated with red dust in the morning. Earlier in the day, Audrey’s dad reckoned he could smell rain coming. He had a pretty good nose for weather.