The Audrey of the Outback Collection (21 page)

He stared back at her with beady chook eyes. Then he moved his little head backwards and forwards as though he was showing off. Audrey wondered if the girl chooks minded that he was so bossy. But he was looking after them all right. They hadn’t been eaten by foxes or dingoes.

Bloke dusted her hands and stood up.

From the back of the house came the steady crack of an axe splitting wood. Without even looking, Audrey could tell it was her dad. When Price was cutting wood it was:
chop
,
chop
, stop,
chop
. Followed by muttering and, sometimes, a yelp.

Over in the other pen, Sassafras bleated.

‘Do you reckon goats sound like babies crying?’ Audrey asked Bloke.

‘Haven’t had much to do with babies. But it’s hard to ignore a goat.’

‘Do you think they smell funny?’

‘I’ve smelled worse things.’ Bloke gave a lopsided grin. ‘Includin’ meself.’

‘What’s white and sort of floats in the air?’ asked Audrey.

Bloke put a fourth egg into the tin. Her lips looked dry and flaky. Audrey guessed she didn’t wear her hat all the time and the sun had dried out her skin.

‘Is this a riddle?’

‘No. I saw something last night, down by the well.’ Audrey peeked up at Bloke from beneath her eyelashes. She hoped Bloke wouldn’t laugh at her question.

‘I’ve seen lots of strange things in the bush.’

‘Price says that too. But he never tells me
what
.’

‘That thing you saw,’ said Bloke. ‘Could be a min min light.’

‘What’s that?’

‘A light in the bush. They’re mostly seen at night.’

Audrey felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. ‘Have you ever seen a min min light?’

‘Once. In New South Wales.’

‘What did it do?’ whispered Audrey.

‘It hovered, like this …’ Bloke held up her left hand and shook it like a leaf in the wind. ‘It circled around and came at me real fast. Then it followed me.’

‘What’d you do?’

‘Walked a
lot
faster.’

‘Did you try to catch it?’

Bloke grimaced. ‘
No
. If you chase a min min and catch it, you disappear.’

‘Disappear?’ Audrey’s word ended on a squeak. She looked across at her sisters’ wooden crosses. ‘Do you know anyone who got dead by a min min light?’

‘Not anyone I know. But I seen a couple of bodies in the bush, and I don’t know how they ended up that way.’

‘What are they really, those min min lights?’

‘Can’t be sure. But one old Aborigine bloke told me they were dead men’s camp fires.’

A shiver ran down Audrey’s spine. ‘Do they get cold?’

‘Who?’

‘Dead men.’

‘Maybe we shouldn’t be talkin’ about this.’ It was Bloke’s turn to shiver.

‘Why not?’

‘Don’t open a door,’ said Bloke, ‘unless you want to see what’s behind it.’

Nine

Bloke licked her lips, all round.

Audrey sneaked a look down the kitchen table at Price. He was staring at Bloke.

Mum and Dad forked through their rabbit stew without glancing up. That told Audrey that they, too, wanted to stare. But they were trying not to do it. No one liked rabbit stew so much they could forget about watching Bloke eat. Not even when it was Dad’s stew.

Douglas tilted his head, his blue eyes wide with curiosity. ‘Wheresyourteef?’

Mum tapped Douglas’s arm.

Bloke curled her palms around her teacup, lifted it to her mouth and slurped the tea. Her meaty fingers made the teacup look too small. She certainly couldn’t fit those fingers through the handle. She glanced up and saw everyone looking at her. ‘Is he talkin’ to me?’

‘Where’s your teef?’ Douglas asked again, but slower this time.

Bloke set down her cup and laughed.

‘Did the toof faiwy take dem?’

‘He means
tooth fairy
,’ Audrey explained. Her cheeks felt hot, and it wasn’t just from the heat of the kitchen fire.

Bloke let loose another laugh. ‘I’d be rich if I’d sold all me teeth to the tooth fairy. Anyways, don’t reckon the ol’ tooth fairy comes out this far.’ She looked across the table at Douglas. ‘Me teeth weren’t no good to me. Kept hurting all the time. I pulled out a couple, then thought, heck, why not pull out the whole blinkin’ lot.’

‘You pulled them out
yourself
?’ Price had a pink patch on each cheek that suggested he was also warm.

‘Easy with pliers.’ Bloke opened her mouth and put her finger on the lower jaw. ‘Ha … abi … o …’ She pulled out her finger and wiped it on her sleeve. ‘Had a bit of trouble with that back one. Roots were all twisted, see. Like this.’ She curled her two forefingers around each other.

Mum coughed and stood up. Her face was as green as the cardigan she wore over her floral dress. ‘Excuse me.’ She pushed back her chair and dashed outside.

‘Mum’s in the expecting with the baby,’ explained Audrey. ‘So she spits up a lot.’

‘Two-Bob.’ Dad frowned. ‘It’s not good manners to talk about that at the table.’

‘Sorry, Dad.’

It didn’t seem nearly as bad as watching Bloke describe pulling out her teeth with pliers. But there were different rules for visitors. Down in Beltana, Mrs Paterson had so many rules about manners that she had lists and made children write them down.

Dad took a rabbit bone from his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. He looked at it for a moment, then dropped it on his bread-and-butter plate. ‘Staying in these parts long, Bloke?’

Audrey wasn’t sure if her dad really wanted to know or if he was trying to stop everyone talking about teeth-pulling.

‘Few days. Till the wind changes.’ Bloke folded her hands over her round tummy. Unlike Mum’s tummy, there was no baby in there. But there was certainly a lot of stew. Bloke pushed it in fast because she didn’t waste time chewing. She just sucked at the meat, bounced it around on her gums for a while, then swallowed.

Thinking of tummies made Audrey wonder when her mum would come back inside. Audrey’s eyes slid towards the closed kitchen door.

Douglas patted the last of his stew with his spoon. Gradually the pats became smacks. Drops of gravy splashed up onto his cheeks.

Dad reached over and took the spoon from him.

Outside, one of the camels bellowed. They were tethered away from the house, behind the vegetable patch. Had the camel bellowed because it was bored, or because it sensed something strange hiding in the darkness?

‘Dad!’ said Audrey. ‘Someone should go and get Mum.’

Ten

Early the next day, Audrey strode out. She was determined to go all the way to her cubbyhouse. The bush seemed unusually quiet, the sky wider than it should be. Gum trees cast twisted shadows.

‘It’s all right, Stumpy,’ she whispered. ‘Monsters don’t come out in the daytime.’

Audrey thrust both hands in the pockets of her oversized trousers. The fingers of her right hand closed around the boiled egg that her mum had given her. It was still warm.

As she thought of her mum, Audrey’s stomach tightened, just as it had last night when Mum was alone outside. She’d come back inside and told them all not to worry. But once people started worrying, it was hard to stop.

‘Mum didn’t see anything scary,’ Audrey told Stumpy. ‘But
I
did. I
know
I did.’

Stumpy told her that he believed her.

That made Audrey feel a little better.

‘Let’s be pirates today, Stumpy, then we can go to our cubby ship.’

Stumpy liked playing pirates.

Quandong stones dangled on strings around her hat-brim. They kept the flies away from her face.

Stumpy ran alongside her on the track. Spinifex and grey saltbush grew on each side of it.

A kangaroo bounded out of the trees. It stopped when it saw Audrey, twitched its ears, then took off in the other direction. Its tummy was fat and, just for a second, Audrey saw little feet sticking up from its pouch. She wondered if the joey got dizzy, hanging upside down, while its mother bounced.

Mum’s baby was upside down too. When it kicked, the top of her tummy fluttered. So it must be standing on its head. But at least Mum didn’t bounce like a kangaroo. She didn’t even run.

At last, Audrey spied her cubby through the trees.

But as she came closer, her steps slowed. ‘Stumpy! Something’s wrong.’

Tingles ran from Audrey’s neck down to her arms.

Eleven

‘It’s the door.’ Audrey’s voice was as soft as the faintest breeze.

Whenever she left her cubby, she dragged some brush in front of the opening. The branches were always at the top, with twigs and leaves at the bottom. At home, her family hung a branch upside down like that to show when someone was in the dunny. Now, her brush cubby-door was the other way round.

Audrey sneaked closer. Her heart beat faster.

She’d taken a lot of care building this cubby. The branches and leaves for the walls were as thick as she could stack them. It was half-round, like a giant ant hill.

Through the gaps in the leaves, Audrey spotted something lying on the ground inside the cubby. But she couldn’t see clearly enough to know what it was. Her heart beat even louder. It echoed in her ears.

No animal could drag aside the brush door, go inside, then close it behind them. Even Stumpy would find that hard.

‘That lump in there isn’t moving,’ she whispered. ‘Reckon it’s a swag?’

Stumpy didn’t know.

‘It’s not
Bloke’s
swag. Although she’s only camped a mile away.’

Audrey looked down at the red sandy soil and saw footprints. One shoe print, and a bare footprint with little toe-marks. Audrey put her own foot next to the shoe print. Her boot mark was slightly bigger. Whoever was in the cubby was a child.

Why didn’t they call out? Were they sick? Or worse, what if they’d
died
in the cubby?

She wasn’t sure whether to peek inside or run away.

Tingles ran from Audrey’s neck down to her arms.

She couldn’t leave someone in trouble.

‘H … hello?’ Her voice wobbled.

There was no answer.

Audrey clenched her fingers into fists at her side and swallowed hard. ‘I’m coming in!’

Twelve

Audrey grabbed the brush door and dragged it back.

Inside the cubby, a girl sat up.

Audrey squeaked.

The girl stared at her. She was Aboriginal, with large brown eyes and short curly hair. Dressed in a pale smock-dress, she wore a fawn cardigan over the top. She had a small nose and thick eyelashes. The girl pulled in her bottom lip and pinned it with her front teeth.

‘Hello,’ said Audrey.

The girl said nothing.

‘I’m Audrey Barlow. I live in the little house with the noisy goats over that way.’ She waved one arm.

The girl looked past Audrey into the bush.

‘I came to play.’ Audrey took off her hat and held it with both hands. ‘This is my cubbyhouse.’

Silence lay between them as thick as dripping on bread.

Maybe the girl didn’t understand.

Audrey knew only two sorts of words: English and camel. Well, Stumpy camel, anyway. He understood everything she said. And much that she didn’t. Maybe this girl had her own words for things.

They were a long way from any other houses. How did the girl get out here?

There was a brown lace-up shoe on her left foot, but not on her right. Her ankle was badly swollen. It looked like a paddy melon with a foot on the end of it.

‘Oh, you’ve hurt yourself.’ Audrey stepped towards the girl, squatted down beside her and dropped her hat on the ground.

Instinctively, the girl moved away. She whimpered, her eyes watering.

Once, Audrey had sprained her wrist sliding down a sandhill on a sheet of tin. She’d cried and cried. Even Mum’s scones hadn’t stopped her tears. The girl’s puffy ankle would be just as painful. Her eyes were huge and she hardly blinked.

Audrey hesitated. She thought as hard as she could. But she didn’t know what to do. The girl’s ankle might be broken.

‘I’ll fetch my dad,’ Audrey told her. ‘He can help you.’

The girl’s hands flew to her face. ‘No! They’ll get me.’

Thirteen

Audrey threw a look over her shoulder. Thoughts of min min lights and bunyips raced through her mind.

But all she saw was Stumpy. His long legs were trembling and his eyes were as wide as the girl’s.

‘
Who’ll
get you?’ Audrey asked.

A small silence stretched into a long one. Maybe the girl didn’t want to talk about what scared her. Sometimes when you gave a name to something that frightened you, it came looking for you. Audrey remembered old Mrs Paterson saying, ‘Speak of the Devil and in he walks.’

‘You said words, so I know you can talk,’ said Audrey.

‘I talk good. All the time.’

‘Me too. My dad says I could talk underwater with a mouth full of marbles. I don’t know if that’s true because our bath is so small my legs hang over the side.’

The girl glanced at Audrey, then away again.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Janet.’

‘I’ve got two names. Audrey and Two-Bob.’

‘I got two names, too. Janet, that’s the name
they
call me. My other name, my family gave me.’

‘What is it?’