Little Lost Girl

by Graham Wilson

  Sophie nodded and passed the bowl back to Alison. As it left her hand she felt this small bowl tugging at her. Her mind sensed another small girl, who was part echidna, saying, “Leave me here. This is where I want to stay. All those who made me have gone. Now I belong here. It is a good place for me to stay, my underground burrow which keeps me safe and warm.

  Sophie could feel her Gran share her mind picture, the way they shared other thoughts. So they put the bowl back in the box and closed the lid, knowing it was not for them to take it away.

  As they came outside Gran carefully looked around, as if to make sure no one could see them before they came out into view.

  As they walked back along the path she said to Sophie, “I want this to be our secret, just for you and me. When we were little Ruthie and I made a promise that we would not tell anyone else. I have told you now but that is alright. I know now Ruthie understands, since she just spoke to you. If you want you can come again and bring one special friend, but apart from that it should stay secret, sometimes secrets are best.”

  Sophie nodded her head.

  When they got back to her Gran’s house and changed their clothes, her Gran said, “I will bring you up to your own house now. I want to talk to your Mum and Dad. Charles and I are planning a boat adventure.”

  Chapter 17 - The Big Storm

  For years Charles had been talking about making a sailing trip and wanting Alison to come with him. She would sail on the harbour with him, and she loved the exhilaration of beating to wind as it tossed back her hair and the boat heeled in the spray. But most of all she loved the simple joy it brought to Charles, the way his face flushed in the cool air and how that trademark wolfish grin, that she knew and loved so well, never left his face.

  In 1885 Charles became an inaugural member of the Balmain Sailing Club. With his fast growing son, John, and with James when he visited, along with other local sailing friends, they would go flying across the harbour in an 18 foot open boat, going impossibly fast under huge canvass sails, often racing in the many regattas held on Sydney Harbour.

  Sometimes Alison and the other children would join him in overnight trips on their own boat, named after them. These were mostly within the harbour but sometimes they sailed out of the harbour up the coast to the vast Hawkesbury River inlet or headed south to Botany Bay and Port Hacking. However they were rarely away for more than a couple days.

  Alison had resisted Charles in his many previous entreaties to go and sail the wide ocean. Her reasons were many; work at the shop, children and grandchildren who all needed her. But now she knew it was time, time just for them, away and alone together, making the discovery of many new lands and horizons that were out there. Balmain had always held her so tight, and this hold would remain. But now she felt ready to go away, knowing that she could return to its fastness when needs must.

  So today, having shared her secret with Sophie, she tripped along with a light heart to tell Maria and Jimmy of her plans. She was sure they would approve, in them lay a streak of the wild adventurers who had first come to this land. She arrived just as they were sitting down to a late lunch, and her enthusiasm was infectious. They all joined in the making of plans.

  Charles’ sister, Elizabeth, had established a farm over in New Zealand, more than 20 years ago, somewhere near Wellington. Elizabeth was now a grandmother to a brood of grandkids, most of whom Charles and Alison had never seen, and Elizabeth had written begging them to visit.

  While they could have caught a steamer, Charles eyed off his little blue hulled boat, and so the plan was formed. Sophie had turned seven in the winter, and they would leave in the spring, when the winter storms were mostly past. With fine weather and fair wind a week would see them across the ocean and then, perhaps in autumn, they would return.

  At last the day of the planned departure came. All Charles and Alison’s children and grandchildren assembled. Many friends besides were there too It was a clear spring Saturday as they gathered for a picnic on the point at East Balmain. Charles and Alison shared an excited anticipation with all the well-wishers on warm sunny afternoon, as conversation and good spirits flowed. The boat was loaded, the sails were checked, they had provisions for a month and all was set. As the sun started to dip west a fair sea-breeze sprung up, as if a signal.

  Charles stood up and stretched. It was time. So, with a small flotilla of following little boats and yachts, they were away. The others followed in their wake to Dawes Point then broke away. With a last wave they were ocean bound, heeled over into the breeze.

  Four idyllic days of sailing followed, mostly light breezes and the odd heavy blow. But these were just scuds, and soon they sailed back into sun and fair weather again. They were more than half way there. Then, on the Thursday, far off to the south, they spied streamers and trailers of cloud. As the day passed they watched these grow, banking and piling, layer on layer into a huge lumpen mass, somewhere far out towards Tasmania. The sea took on a sullen unstructured shape and the wind died away until they were barely moving. It was almost soundless; a lone seagull squawk here and there, and creaking and flapping of loose sails as odd wind eddies passed.

  Charles frowned; he knew the signs, tightened ropes and shortened the canvass. He and Alison went around the boat, checking to ensure everything was securely stowed.

  Alison looked at him and his evident concern. She smiled brightly. “Don’t worry, Charles, I know the signs out there. What will be, will be. Now we should eat and rest. It may be a long time until we can do so again.”

  So they prepared a simple meal and sat together in the stern, eating, with a sense of great contentment. Then they lay side by side in their bunk, held each other close and slept, her cheek resting on his chest and her hair in his face. A few times they almost woke, but feeling the comfort of the other, they snuggled close and slept again.

  As the first rays of dawn were glowing in the east, their boat gave a shudder as the first gust of wind rocked it. They put on their oilskins and harnesses and went above.

  Charles pointed the boat into the wind. He pulled in more sail; now just enough remained for steerage. Alison sat alongside him in the stern, they would wait and work together and, please God, they would make it home to Balmain to see their children again.

  But she had no fear and no regrets. Her cup of life had been filled to overflowing with its gladness and sadness, and it had all been so good. And here they were now, still together.

  An hour later the wind was howling and the waves were huge. The boat was driven before it, where they did not know, but towards the southeast. A day passed and a night. Their sails were torn and tattered, the main mast was split; it would break away soon. But they hung on and stayed together, driven down one wave before rising up over the crest of another in and endless cycle. Finally, as the second day faded, the sounds of wind and waves changed. Charles heard and knew the roar of breakers. He grabbed a sea anchor. But it was too late. So they held each other. A final peace washed over them, before a grinding roar as their boat piled and splintered on the rocks.

  Next morning the storm had passed and a fisherman, near Greymouth, found splinters of broken timber on the beach. He headed further along to where the rocks loomed, black against the grey sea and sky. There he found them, a smashed boat with the name “Alison-Heather-Maria” painted in red on the stern and two bodies in oilskins, tied to their harnesses with arms locked around each other.

  So Alison and Charles returned to Balmain, in a casket, but still together. They were laid beside the others in the little cemetery looking out to sea at the end of Balmain. Sophie and Maria cried at the grave, but another part of them was happy too, these people they loved so much were rejoined to their family, to be together always.

  Chapter 18 - 1908 - Sophie and Matty

  In June 1908 Sophie turned eight. Without her Gran her birthday seemed flat, but then she took her first Holy Communion. Her mother sewed for untold hours and hours to make her dress. It was pure white with f
ine white lace and brocade around the edges. And cleverly sewn across the top were the tiniest pale blue beads which sparkled in the light. After communion was over a man with a big flash camera took lots of photos of them all. Her father bought several, one for his mother and father, others for themselves. A small one in an oval frame was to go on the mantel in Sophie’s room. She felt proud and very grown up.

  Life was mostly good but she had taken to arguing over the silliest things with her Mum and neither could help themselves. Sophie had reached an age where she thought she knew almost everything about everything and, when she thought someone else said something she did not think was right, she could hardly help herself from saying so.

  And, as well, her Mum was a little bit sad. She had tried to have another baby late last year, after they buried her Gran. But at the end of summer her waters broke and the baby was far too tiny to be born. So a melancholy had settled over her mother. It seemed she was often cross with Sophie over the smallest of things. Her Dad stayed patient and understanding and he tried to keep her Mum’s spirits up, but she would get suddenly cross at him too, even when it was hard to see why. Sometimes that made Sophie really mad and so she would get cross with her Mum on account of her father, even though he always told Sophie not to interfere.

  But the really good thing was Matty and her were best friends again. He had come up to her at her Gran’s funeral and been so nice to her, as if to try and make up for the bad things he had said and done to her last year. Well not really bad, but a bit mean, like saying she was too little to join in with him and his friends. Just before Christmas he had come round again and brought her a beautiful little bird he had carved and painted. Sophie loved it so much and decided to bring it with her wherever she went. When Matty gave it to her he said to her he was sorry for being mean and nasty and it was a present to say he really liked her.

  He also told her about his family and the bad things that were happening there. His father was drunk a lot and had started to hit his Mum more and more often when she screamed at him. And, just after New Year, he had gone to jail for two weeks for getting in a big fight when he was drunk; beating up another man who had to go to hospital. The magistrate said it was provoked because the other man had called him a ‘useless drunk layabout’, but, even so, he said he still had to send him a message about controlling his temper. The magistrate warned his father that if he did it again he would go to jail for much longer. Since then his Mum was often cross with Matty too, telling him to do more work to make up for his useless father, and screaming at him when he forgot things.

  So, often, Matty and Sophie would go off together, just the two of them, and sit somewhere. They would talk and daydream about what they would do and the places they would go after they grew up; it was as if they both assumed that, whatever they did, they would do it together. Often, as they sat in these hidden places, along the cliffs where the heath bushes grew, they would see little birds with the bright blue markings, just like the one that Matty carved for her, flitting through the bushes. These became their symbol of happiness together. They always felt better when they saw one.

  Sophie’s other great treasure was the perfume bottle her Gran had given her. She often told it her happy stories and, with her mind, she gave it her memories to hold. At the moment it was mostly full of her doing happy things with Matty. Once, when she had found her Mum sitting in the corner crying, she had gone up and sat on her lap and taken one of her Mums tears and a few drops of her Mums perfume and put them both in the bottle together. Then she told her Mum that she loved her and wanted her to be happy again, and the bottle would help it happen.

  Her Mum hugged and kissed her and said. “Oh Sophie, I love you all so much and I want to be happy too. But sometimes, when I think of my tiny little baby, too small to be born, I find myself crying and I sit in a chair all day unable to do anything. When your Dad comes home from a hard day’s work, and is tired, I still have not washed the clothes or the plates, or cooked any dinner. Instead of complaining he sets to work and does it all himself. Then I find myself getting angry with him too, even though I know I am wrong.”

  Her Mum stood up, looked straight down at her daughter, and said, “It’s funny, just saying it to you, and you with that funny little bottle to hold your secrets, makes me feel warm and happy. It makes it all easier to bear, at least for a little while.”

  About two months after her birthday Sophie woke, one morning, to hear her Mum screaming at her Dad. She rushed out and told her Mum to stop, then she shouted at her Mum that she was always cross and unfair.

  Her Mum slapped her hard across the face. It was the first time she had hit her, ever. Sophie ran out of the house shouting “I hate you.”

  Her Dad tried to chase her but then went back to try and calm her Mum. Sophie waited down the road, crying quietly until the sting faded. She knew it would get better one day and when she went back home that night it would most likely be forgotten.

  But for now she was mad as she could be, even though, deep down, she knew it was not really her Mum’s fault. When the shouting stopped she went quietly back into her room, dressed quickly, packed her bag and, making sure she put her little blue bird in, left for school.

  She was almost crying, but made herself hold it in as she walked down the street to meet Matty. They always walked to and from school together now. Matty had a face like thunder but he knew straight away she was upset too. So they sat on a step and she told him what had happened, and he told her the same for him, another fight with his Mum because of his Dad. They both felt better and walked up the street holding hands; truly they were best friends forever now.

  At times during the day, in a daydream, the picture of her Gran and her sitting in that cave together came into her mind. She wasn’t angry anymore. She remembered too that her Gran had said it was alright to show it to one special friend.

  So, after school was finished, she came up to Matty with a cheeky grin and said. “I have a surprise I want to show you.”

  “What is it?” he said.

  “It’s a special surprise and I can only show it to one special friend. I want to show it to you.”

  She took his hand and led him down the path from school which went the opposite way from home. He cocked his head and looked puzzled at her. “Really, tell me what it is?”

  She emphatically shook her head. “No, perhaps I will have to blindfold you, so you don’t even know the way. You have to trust me.”

  They went on down the path, half way to her Gran’s house, until Sophie found a side track into the bush. They followed this, mostly walking side by side and sometimes he had to follow her. As she came near the point where the cave was she could see someone had cleared some of the land on top. But the path led down the side, hidden below the cliffs and no-one could see them there. When she came to the part where they had to climb up the rocks she had to think a bit to remember clearly, but soon her mind had it right. There was the place, behind the bush behind that rock. She left Matty on the path and pushed into the bush until she saw the hole.

  She decided she would quickly go inside and call Matty to see if he could find her. She called out, not too loud, “Matty.”

  “Where are you?” he said.

  “You will have to find me,” she called back.

  For a minute there was the sound of scrabbling on the rocks. Suddenly, he was in there with her. “Wow, this is great,” he said.

  She unpacked her bag. As soon as she had this idea, earlier at school, she decided to save her lunch for this place; a sandwich, two biscuits and an apple. She tore the sandwich in half and passed Matty his half and a biscuit. “I brought a picnic to share,” she said, feeling shy.

  “Why thank you,” he replied and doffed his hat with mock gallantry.

  They both laughed. Sophie told him what her Gran had told her about her friend, Ruthie, the two of them coming here all those years ago, when her Gran was only about as old as she was now. She pointed, showing him the t
hings left from way back then that were still here; the chest, the bottles, and other mementos. She opened the chest and took out the wooden bowl with the aboriginal patterns her Gran had shown her. She told him its story.

  Matty nodded, “Amazing, it is hard to believe it is all so old. I think we should write Ruthie a message, in case she ever comes back to get it. We should say we would like to be her friends too.”

  So he took out his pen and a school book. He found a loose piece of paper which he wrote on, thanking Ruthie for letting them share this cave and telling the story of how they came to be here, had found the wooden bowl with her family’s echidna totem, leaving it here for her to take back one day. He placed the note in the box and sat the bowl back in on top.

  Sophie rummaged in her bag and found the blue bird he had given her, so like the blue wrens she saw in the garden. ”I think I should leave this here too,” she said. She placed it on top of the small chest. “It will be the mark of our special place.”

  Then she looked at Matty with her serious, serious eyes and said, “You must promise to never tell anyone else, not show this place to anyone else.”

  First he looked at her in a slightly amused, mocking way, as if to say, ‘Don’t be silly.’ But the force in her eyes silenced him. He nodded, “I promise.” He spat on his palm and rubbed it around, then held it to her and she joined her palm to his. It was a deal, stronger even than cross your heart.

  Almost shyly he took her hand and put his arm around her shoulder. He gave her a half-hug, saying. “I like you so much Sophie. I am glad you showed me. When our parents are mean to us, we can come here together and no one else will know.”

  She nodded wisely, “It’s a deal.”

  ***

  Up above two men, Joe and Fred, were working. Their job was to build a tank on the headland. Below would be a jetty where the ships would come to pump out oil into the tank. This oil would be used for other ships and for the new cars that were coming to the streets.