by Cameron Nunn
“And are the children going to school at Magda?”
“It’s Murga. They’re with us for a visit, just to give Robert a bit of time. I think recent events have been a shock for everyone.” Gran bristled and shifted half a step back but Joy moved forward, her hand now holding Gran’s forearm firmly.
“Maybe so, but I can’t say I was entirely surprised. She used to confide in me, you know.” Joy stopped herself. “I’m sorry, Mrs Richards. I don’t want to say unkind things about your son. Not in front of the children but I just wish that I’d acted on the things she told me. I can barely sleep thinking about it. Now I’ve lost a sister and those poor children have lost their mother.”
“And Robert has lost his wife.”
“Yes, well.” Joy seemed to realise this wasn’t going the way she intended. She let go of Gran and straightened. “Then we’re all the poorer, aren’t we?”
When they got back to the house, Will waited until Gran was alone. She was tidying the house and Will began helping, picking up bits and pieces. “Was that true what you told Joy, about us just staying with you for a visit?”
Gran stopped what she was doing. “Your dad just needs some space, Will. Everyone grieves differently. I know it’s hard on you and Rosie. I understand that you’d rather be in Sydney but I can’t stay down here looking after you. I’ve got to get back to Pa as well. It won’t be forever. I promise.” She put her hands on Will’s and rubbed them gently. “I promise.”
Will just stood there and nodded. There wasn’t anything else he could say. Everything had already been decided. It didn’t surprise him then when she came to him in his room later that afternoon and said that he might want to pack some more things before they headed back to Murga. Will had asked how much he needed to pack but Gran was evasive. “Just anything you think you’ll need for a little while. I’ll help Rosie pack a few extra bits and pieces.” Will’s dad had disappeared back to the shop. Will knew he was avoiding them and having to answer questions. He’d barely said anything to either him or Rosie since the funeral. It was only to Gran he spoke, and even then it was only because she managed to corner him. Their voices were always hushed and Will couldn’t hear what was said but he’d watch Gran afterwards and could sense her frustration. Even so, she kept saying to Will, “Give him space, Will. Some people just need space.”
They drove back to Murga the next day. Will was glad his dad wasn’t around. He didn’t want to say anything to him. He put two boxes of his old life into the boot, along with clothes and locked the door.
When they arrived back at Brymedura, Will tried his best not to be the pain in the arse that he knew he was becoming. Gran was kind and friendly but Rosie took up most of her attention and she kept telling him to see if Pa could use some help. “If you ask often enough, eventually you’ll wear him down and he’ll realise he’s lucky to have you about.” Will tried nearly every day for a week when they got back but that was a waste of time. At least his grandfather seemed to know who he was. “I don’t need a hand. I’m just fine,” he’d growl, so Will stopped offering. Pa was no different to his dad. When Gran would tell him to find his grandfather, he’d head out and climb down to the creek or wander where he thought no one would see him.
The creek was a refuge. As he left the house, the wind moved across the paddocks and slipped through the trees. Will moved along with it, away from the house towards the dry creek bed. Many times he’d thought about how to get away and get back to Sydney. Every time he came back to the same realisation that he was trapped. He climbed down the crumbling banks that’d been worn away with time and onto the thin murmuring trickle that wound through the rocks. Here he was cut off from everyone. Even Dot couldn’t see him from her house on the hill. Here there was peace. He picked up a pebble and flung it as hard as he could. It clattered noisily into the rocks and a crow responded, unseen, from the trees. Devil’s bird, he said to himself, though he wasn’t sure why he’d said it.
He closed his eyes and wished he was somewhere else, anywhere else. He could hear the sounds of the bush slowly surrounding him, cutting him off from the world beyond the banks of the creek. How long he sat there he didn’t know. It might have only been a few minutes. Time no longer seemed to matter. He began picking his way between the boulders and the small pools of water. From somewhere deep in his mind he knew that there was a large pool further up the creek. It was where the sheep came down to drink. He remembered the roughly hewn stone wall that’d been built to dam the flow.
The creek had cut deeply into the ground. The grass grew thick at the top and trees arched across the banks, providing pockets of shade. The sun had moved overhead. Cut off from the breeze above, the deep creek bed was hot, even for winter. Every now and then he came across an old tree that had fallen into the creek bed, its roots having been torn by a current that had long since flowed away. He wandered without thinking. The creek was a pathway, leading him on.
For a moment, Will thought he heard footsteps from above the bank of the creek. He stopped and listened. In all the sounds of the bush, he wasn’t sure. How far had he come? It wasn’t as though he could get lost, he reasoned. Was he still on his grandparents’ property? He hadn’t seen any fences. Again he heard the unseen crow cawing an ugly guttural cry.
Will was certain there was a pool and sheep somewhere up ahead. He knew it. Why was he so sure? Dad had told him about it probably. He screwed up his face and tried to remember. The banks weren’t steep, he remembered that much. There’d be a large boulder and then the creek would bend heavily to the right. He trudged on. At one point the banks became so steep that he couldn’t have scrambled up the sides even if he’d wanted to. A water dragon eyed him with suspicion before darting off among the boulders. Will suddenly thought about snakes. You only saw snakes in summer, didn’t you? His dad had told him that as well but he couldn’t remember when. It was the brown snakes you had to worry about.
A large boulder loomed ahead. It was what he was looking for. A fallen tree lay across the creek, blocking his way. The creek bent behind the giant rock and disappeared from view. It wasn’t far now. He scrambled over the tree. And then he was there, in front of the rock. He was thinking about how he’d skim stones across the water and watch the dragonflies dart and skim along the surface, when his feet tangled in the low prickly scrub and he stumbled forward. The rocks bit into his knees as he fell awkwardly. But as he heaved himself up a greater shock awaited him. The pool had vanished. The creek spread into a broad flat, covered with reeds and small saplings. Nothing looked like it was supposed to.
He closed his eyes. Again, that unsettling feeling was rubbing itself uncomfortably against him. There had been a pool, he was sure of it. There’d been a clearing and a dam and sheep. He kept moving forward along the creek looking for a place to climb out. Further along where the creek spread and flattened, it would be easier to get out but the dry creek bed began to give way to slippery mud. Everything was wet but he had no choice but to keep going. At one point his foot sank, ankle deep in putrid, grey mud. Will pulled back his foot and the mud made a strange sucking sound as it let go of his shoe. He stepped carefully, looking for rocks or something firm to step on but he kept slipping. By the time he got out, mud covered his legs and his shoes.
The trees were tall and grass grew long and thick around the edges of the marsh. How long did it take for trees to grow and the creek to change this much? He noticed that there was a clear track that ran alongside the marshy area. Someone else came along here regularly. Will walked along it, searching for something that would give him some idea of what had happened. At one point the path seemed to turn in towards the reeds. There had been a dam here, he was sure. He looked into the reeds and muddy water. It had vanished like the pond. As he edged closer, the soft bank crumbled and he slipped into the brackish water and mud. He turned around and tried to climb back to the firm ground but even though he was no more than a pace into the marsh, it was impossible to know where to step. Twice he san
k knee-deep as he tried to climb back to the bank. It seemed as if the firm ground kept moving just out of his reach. He tried to pull his leg free but he felt his shoe come loose and stick in the mire. He panicked and tried to push his foot back down, but all he could feel was the cold mud. He thrust a free arm down into the hole that was fast filling with stale water. He fished around frantically. At one point he grabbed something that he thought was his shoe, but as he went to pull it up it slipped free and disappeared again. The mud that had swallowed the pool had moved back around his arm so he was no longer sure if he was even pushing down into the same place where he’d lost his shoe. Panic gripped him in the stomach. Again and again he thrust his hand down into the vile-smelling sludge. Then, just to his left he felt it. Not a shoe, but what he’d seen in his mind. No more than a centimetre below the thick water was the hard regular angle of the stone wall.
It was near midday when Kate came down the hill. I were sitting in the shadows with the shovel still resting across my knees. The mound what were Sarah still smelt of morning earth.
“Everyone is up at the homestead. Mrs Smith has been roasting the goose. Everyone is missing you.”
I gave a huff. It were more likely Mr Harrison were worried I might’ve stolen his shovel and headed back to Sydney. “Is anyone missing Sarah?”
“People die.” Kate shrugged indifferently. “If we walked around with a funeral in our hearts, it wouldn’t make Sarah any better. Would it? Let me show you something.” She pointed to a series of faded timber crosses at a distance of about twenty paces further on. “Sarah’s not the first to die. We’ve been here three years and five people have died. It happens.” She paused for a moment as though she were thinking of something sad. “That cross over there is where my mother is buried. And my baby brother is in there with her. She was the first one to die here.”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. I thought back to my own ma and felt naught.
“It happens, but I can’t bring flowers every day. We have to move on.” Her voice made me think that whatever she said, she hadn’t ‘moved on’ as she put it.
“Sarah’s parents don’t even know she’s dead. She’s lying in the ground on the other side of the world and they don’t even know it. Do you ever wonder what Sarah thought about? What it were she were hoping for?”
“Probably to stay away from Mrs Smith’s broom. You think too much.” Kate said flatly. She were staring blankly at her ma’s grave.
“She must’ve hoped for something, or someone. Maybe she hoped one day she’d be back home in London, or wherever she were from. There must’ve been something what kept her going, something what made it worthwhile to wake up every morning.” Kate looked at me strangely. “I believe if you want something bad enough, then it’s stronger ’n flesh. A part of us that don’t fade.”
Kate shook her head and looked at me as though nothing I said made any sense.
I stood there beside Kate thinking about Sarah, and what she must’ve been feeling and for a moment I thought I felt her longings, that I were in her mind. But then it were gone and everything were still. I looked carefully at Kate. She were still staring across at the place where her ma and her brother were buried.
“Sometimes when I think about Ma . . .” She quickly stopped herself. “Tomorrow, I’ll show you something. You’ll need to be up before the others and go across the creek opposite the sluice gate. Don’t let anyone see you and wait for me there.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t explain it. When you see it you’ll understand.”
Kate were true to her word the next morning. The water in the creek were shallow near the sluice gate and I were able to cross without getting my feet wet. On the other side of the creek, the land hadn’t been cleared. It were rocky and climbed steep towards that wall of golden rock what loomed over the whole of the station. It were strange I’d never crossed to this side of the creek. It were like a marker where civilisation stopped and the savage bush took over the landscape. The whole of Brymedura were in a flat area with mountains on three sides. Unlike the area round the homestead and the runs, the trees clustered close and cut off the view ahead. If there were a path, I weren’t able to see it. Kate were already waiting on the other side and I didn’t see her until I near fell over her. She put her fingers to her lips telling me to be quiet.
“Did anyone see you?” I shook my head. “You must keep it secret. Not even tell Cain. Do you understand?” I were about to say something but Kate put her finger to her lips again.
She turned and moved swiftly. She knew every thorn bush and moved around them as though she were in a dream. It were all I could do to keep up. In the morning sunlight the strong scent of eucalyptus had a heady feeling as we climbed ever higher.
“How much further?” I pleaded.
“Ssh,” she said. “Not far but you mustn’t speak. Not till we get there.”
When we reached what I thought were the cliff, I seen what I hadn’t from the valley below. Instead of a single wall it were fractured and split with places to scramble. We kept climbing upwards, Kate always about ten yards ahead. Suddenly, she disappeared from view between grey boulders. As I followed, she put her hand out to stop me.
“Be careful here.” The land slipped down sharp like an enormous funnel with a black hole below about two yards across. “Just be careful as you come over.” She steadily worked her way like a crab across boulders and logs until she came to a small flat area to the side of the hole and sat down, her legs hanging over the funnel.
“What is it?” I asked, as I climbed down and sat beside her.
“It’s a sinkhole.”
“What’s that?”
“It means there is a cave underneath us and part of the roof has collapsed over time. They found caves like it near the government camp at Wellington. My father told me about them. I found this after my mother died. I used to come here because I had to. I don’t know what made me find the place. I thought it was some kind of magic, like it was wanting to be found by me.” She looked at me earnestly. “Do you know what the sídhe are?”
I shook my head.
“In Ireland, they’re spirits that belong to the Otherworld. Caves and wells are places that they come into our world. I guess they’re like faeries, but sídhe are dangerous. When you see a sídhe, you can’t look at them in the eyes. They lure you into their world or send you mad. But sometimes they can show you the spirits of those that have just died.” She looked at me and I think she was hoping I’d understand. “I just wanted to see my ma, just one more time. When I found out that it’s just a sinkhole, the magic disappeared. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Wanting something to be true doesn’t make it true. I still come here when I need to think, but I stopped believing I’d see my ma’s face.”
“You think it’s the same as what I were feeling yesterday?”
“I think sometimes we want to believe something is true because we think if we believe in it strongly enough, then perhaps it will be true. You want there to be something more but in the end Sarah’s just gone. And that’s it.”
The bush all around us hummed with insects. I sat there for a while, my feet hanging like Kate’s. Maybe when you’re dead that’s the end of it, all your dreams die with you. When you’re forgotten that’s the end of your existence. It’s like the smoke from a chimney on a windy day. I stared into the blackness of the hole, an empty nothingness that may well have tumbled down for all eternity.
“Have you ever been down there?”
“Into the hole?”
“Well . . . have you seen what’s down there?”
“How would I get down there? And even if I could get down, how would I get back up?”
I looked down at the hole what swallowed light.
“If you lean into the hole a bit and listen you’ll hear something.” Kate smiled at me and raised her eyebrows encouraging me to try. I looked around for something solid to hold onto. All round the hole were leaves from the tre
es above. It would be easy to slip in. Holding on to a knobbly rock what stuck out from the ground near the hole, I slid my body over the edge. Below, the void were beyond reckoning. I could feel myself being sucked into the hole. At first, I could hear naught but the sound of insects in the bright sky above me. There were a cool breath what seemed to come from somewhere deep beneath the earth. Steadily, I gazed into the dark world below me and the sounds from under the earth began to take shape. I heard the sound of the air as it moved across the emptiness and turned in whispering eddies. Then, slowly, another sound began to grow from deep down, the sound of water moving far below the earth.
“There’s water down there!” I said as I pulled myself back to where Kate sat.
She smiled, the same brilliant smile and nodded. “It’s the way caves are made. The underground water washes a streambed through the rock. Over the years it gets deeper and deeper, leaving empty caves in the rocks.”
“You mean there are underground rivers? Where do they flow to?”
“I guess they come out of the rocks somewhere.”
I nodded but I were already lost in the possibilities of an underground river; a river what could flow through the earth and carry me back to London.
“Sometimes it’s the real things that are incredible.” Kate were looking at me with that smile of hers. “Come on. We’d better get back. I don’t want my father wondering where I’ve got to. If he thinks I’ve gone off into the bush with you, he’ll go spare. I’ll try and sneak back in. You follow the creek further up till you get near the north run. That way we won’t be seen together. Alright?”
“I thought we’d have to send out a search party,” Gran said as Will limped down the corridor.
It was worse than Will imagined. Gran, Rosie and even Pa were all gathered around the kitchen table for lunch. He was aware of how he must look. The mud was now crusted over his clothes in hard grey layers. Worst, he’d lost a shoe from the only pair he’d brought.