The Four Seasons of Lucy McKenzie

by Kirsty Murray

  ‘Grab it, April! And don’t let go!’

  April flung one arm over the log and gasped for air. With the other hand she clung to Jimmy.

  ‘Jimmy! Hang on to the branch!’ cried Lucy.

  ‘He can’t,’ sobbed April. ‘I think he’s drowned.’

  Lucy swam to the end of the branch that April was clinging to and reached across to drag Jimmy’s body onto it, using it as a rough flotation device. With one arm firmly wrapped around the log, she used her other hand to check Jimmy’s mouth to make sure there was nothing blocking his airways. Then she hooked her free arm across the log and under his arm so she could cup his chin in her hand.

  ‘Help me hold him in place,’ she said to April. April nodded, watching wide-eyed as Lucy gave three short puffs of air into Jimmy’s mouth.

  ‘We have to get to shore,’ she said to April. ‘And you have to help me. If we both kick, kick as hard as we can, we’ll be able to push the log diagonally across the current.’

  April looked like a drowning rabbit, her blue eyes wide, her long plaits wet and limp. But she nodded again and together they began to kick. Lucy stayed calm and focussed as she’d been taught. The river kept sweeping them downstream and Lucy’s legs began to ache.

  ‘We’ll never make it. And Jimmy’s drowned,’ said April.

  ‘Just keep kicking,’ said Lucy.

  Their feet hit muddy ground and they pushed the log all the way into a mound of green grass and debris from the flood. Then the two girls scrambled onto the damp sludgy ground, dragging Jimmy with them. As soon as they’d found somewhere firm to set him down, Lucy gave Jimmy mouth-to-mouth resuscitation again.

  Suddenly, he began to cough, pushing Lucy away from him. Turning onto his hands and knees, he threw up a bellyful of yellow river water.

  April hooted with happiness. ‘Jimmy Tiger! I swear, you’re like a cat with nine lives!’

  Jimmy sat back on the muddy ground, rain washing over him. ‘I reckon I used up six of them in that river,’ he said.

  ‘If it wasn’t for Lucy, you would have lost them all!’

  Jimmy looked at Lucy shyly. ‘You saved me?’ he asked.

  ‘It certainly wasn’t me!’ said April. ‘Don’t think I’d ever kiss you, even if your life depended on it. She was the one that gave you the kiss of life.’

  ‘It surely would have been the kiss of death if it had come from your lips, April Showers,’ said Jimmy.

  Lucy laughed with relief to see her friends fighting again. ‘Don’t you listen to her, Jimmy. If it weren’t for April, you would have washed away downstream. She hung onto you and nearly drowned too.’

  April rolled her eyes and Jimmy, though pale, managed one of his old grins. ‘Let’s get out of this mud. If the river keeps rising we’ll be back in the water before we know it.’

  The three children trudged up the muddy hillside to high ground, where they sat and watched the river sweeping past. Although the water had flooded the fields along the riverbank, it didn’t seem to be rising any more. The rain stopped and the sky grew higher.

  ‘I think we’re on Lawsons’ patch,’ said Jimmy. ‘The road to town runs over that rise.’

  Grey clouds still hung low over the treetops, but the air grew lighter and clearer. They had walked half a kilometre along the yellow road when they heard the throb of an engine.

  A battered old Austin came chugging towards them. A hand shot out and waved and the driver hooted the horn so loudly that Lucy had to cover her ears.

  It was Tom.

  He pulled over beside them, jumped out of the driver’s seat and threw his arms around April, sweeping her off her feet. ‘You’re as wet as a drowned cat!’ he said.

  ‘We nearly did drown! If it wasn’t for Lucy, we would have.’

  Tom put April down and stepped closer to Lucy. He’d grown so much since Lucy had seen him that she had to tip her head back to look into his face.

  ‘Lucy! Little Lucy! You’re back!’

  He put his hands on her shoulders, staring down into her face in wonder. Then he swept her up into a giant bear hug and whispered in her ear, ‘You and I have to have a long chat, kiddo.’

  Lucy felt a little faint. When Tom put her down, she realised how much energy she’d used getting Jimmy and April to shore and then trudging through the fields. It was as if days had passed since she’d climbed out of bed in Broken River and crossed through the painting of autumn.

  Tom slipped an arm around her. ‘You look all done in, little lady,’ he said, as he guided her to the car and opened the back door.

  ‘I just want to go back to the house,’ said Lucy. ‘I mean to your house.’

  ‘The road’s probably still flooded, maybe washed out in places too,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘Shouldn’t we take her back to wherever she’s staying?’ asked April. ‘We could finally meet her folks.’

  ‘No, no, they don’t live in town,’ mumbled Lucy. ‘They’re not here. They’re a long way away. Please, please take me back to Avendale.’

  Tom turned to talk to April and Jimmy, and Lucy knew she should feel worried, but she was so tired. She snuggled down under a tartan rug that Tom had spread across her knees and felt the soft warmth of the worn leather seat beneath her.

  When Tom put his head in through the door to tell her what they had decided, his voice seemed to come from far away and she could hardly make out what he was saying. The last thing she saw before she fell asleep was Tom’s face gazing down at her with a worried expression.

  A Little Night Music

  Lucy felt strong arms lift her from the back of the car. Cool night air washed against one of her cheeks; the other lay warm against Tom’s chest. She could hear Jimmy Tiger and April chatting somewhere behind her. She looked up and saw Tom’s face etched against a clear, starlit sky.

  The front steps of the verandah at Avendale creaked as Tom carried her into the house.

  ‘You’re awake at last,’ he said, as he set her down on the couch in the front room.

  A fire crackled in the grate. April came racing into the room and jumped onto the couch beside her.

  ‘How did we get back here?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘The flood receded almost as fast as it rose,’ said April. ‘It was so exciting. Me and Jimmy stood on the verandah of Mrs Mollison’s and watched it. The water came right up under the house and then it was sucked back into the river. And you missed it all! You slept all afternoon while the waters disappeared and the sun came out. Everything is a bit sludgy and a bit stinky. There are piles of debris everywhere, but at sunset, Mum and Dad got the all-clear to drive home.’

  In the hallway, April’s mother was guiding a sleepy looking blonde girl down the hall.

  ‘Our Lulu’s all done in,’ she called. ‘I’m putting her to bed.’

  April bounced up and down beside Lucy. ‘Mum says you can stay with us for the night. We’re going to have so much fun. Jimmy Tiger is staying too ’cause the road to his dad’s place is washed out. Tom says where you stay isn’t far from Jimmy’s so he’ll take you both back home in the morning. And then he’s going into town to sign up.’

  ‘Sign up?’

  ‘There’s a war on, if you hadn’t noticed. Tom turned eighteen last month.’

  A tingle of alarm shot through Lucy. ‘No, he mustn’t do that!’

  ‘I wish I could join up,’ said Jimmy Tiger, as he stood in the doorway of the living room. ‘It will probably be over before I’m old enough. Tom’s going to join the RAAF and fly planes. The lucky duck.’

  Lucy stared into the flickering fire. Should she tell them that something terrible was going to happen to Tom? Would it change history for the worse? Or for the better? Surely it would be better if Tom lived.

  Tom walked into the living room with his violin under his arm.

  ‘Enough noise from you three. Tonight, no talk of war or flood or fire or anything bad. Get on that piano stool, Jimmy. We’re going to make music.’

  ‘What are we cele
brating?’ asked April.

  ‘Being alive,’ said Tom, as he folded a cloth and tucked it onto his shoulder before resting the fiddle under his chin.

  Lucy clutched her hands in her lap. Tom stood by the fireplace, the glow from the flames making gold and orange reflections on the polished timber of his violin. Jimmy Tiger struck a chord on the piano and played the opening refrain of a song.

  As Tom leaned forward and counted the beats, a thick dark curl fell across his forehead. The room filled with music – the undercurrent of the piano and the high, tremulous dance of notes from the violin. April tapped her hand on her knee in time to the music, and Lucy wanted to cry. It was so beautiful, and this little family was so happy, but she knew that dark things lay ahead for all of them.

  Tom and April’s parents came and sat in the living room too, drawn by the music. And then, as the boys started into another piece, a small figure appeared in the doorway. Lucy turned and saw her grandmother – a girl no more than ten years old.

  Lulu had thick, curly, gold hair that tumbled over her shoulders, and she smiled sleepily at the crowd of people in the living room. She looked like an angel in her white nightgown with the light shining from behind her.

  And she looked like Claire.

  Almost exactly like Claire.

  Jimmy glanced over his shoulder and played a ripple of chords, as if signalling the arrival of a star. ‘It’s the amazing Lulu Showers,’ he announced, smiling at the sleepy child in the doorway.

  ‘The music woke me and I couldn’t get back to sleep,’ she said.

  ‘Then I’d best be making us all some hot milk and honey. There’s been a lot of excitement today,’ said their mother, getting to her feet and disappearing down the hall.

  Lulu stood by the fireplace. ‘Don’t stop,’ she said. ‘It’s so lovely; don’t stop playing.’

  Jimmy smiled, a smile full of warmth and affection, and turned back to the piano. The two boys segued into another tune, one that Lucy recognised from when she’d sat on the banks of the river with April and Jimmy. April Showers.

  Lulu rubbed the sleep from her eyes and began to sing. For someone so small, her voice was enormous. It rose high and pure and rich over the fiddle and piano and filled every corner of the room. As she sang she looked so like Claire that Lucy felt her heart twist. How did you change fate? How did you stop terrible things from happening? If people knew their fate could they change it?

  April leaned over and whispered in Lucy’s ear. ‘Isn’t she wonderful?’

  Lucy saw all the love and admiration in April’s eyes. She wasn’t jealous, as Lucy had always imagined. She adored her little sister.

  Tom and Jimmy played into the night. Soon not only Lulu was singing, but all of them, even Mr and Mrs Showers. They drank mugs of warm milk and honey, and Mr Showers made a plate of hot buttered toast with big dobs of delicious apricot jam.

  When Tom finally put away his violin and Jimmy closed the lid of the piano, they were all ready for bed. Lulu had fallen asleep again, snuggled up beside April. Mr Showers carried her to the bedroom she shared with April, the same bedroom that Lucy slept in on the other side of time.

  April put her arms around Lucy’s neck and hugged her tightly, cheek to cheek.

  ‘Double trouble,’ said Tom, as he stood in front of the couch gazing down at them. ‘You two look like a pair of identical bugs in a rug.’

  ‘Except I’ve grown bigger than Lucy since she was here last year.’

  ‘I reckon you really could be twins anyway,’ said Tom. ‘Sometimes one twin is bigger than the other. We should call you Big and Little.’

  ‘Big and Little had a race, all around the fireplace. Big said it wasn’t fair because she lost her underwear,’ chanted Jimmy Tiger.

  ‘Oh shut-up, Jimmy,’ said Tom, Lucy and April at exactly the same moment.

  Tom reached down and tweaked Lucy’s cheek. ‘We could call you “Lit” for short. After your last visit, I kept thinking of you as the girl who “lit off” like a firefly.’

  Lucy blushed. She was relieved when Mrs Showers rescued her from the conversation by coming into the room.

  ‘That’s enough banter for one evening. It’s time you all went to bed. This little heroine needs some rest. She’s going to sleep nice and quiet in here so that April doesn’t keep her awake with chatter all night. Jimmy, I’ve made up the bed in the back bungalow. April and Tom, off you go to your rooms.’

  She shooed the boys out, but April lingered, plumping up the pillows as Mrs Showers tucked the quilt around Lucy.

  ‘Tomorrow, Tom will take you back to your parents,’ said Mrs Showers. ‘He says the road to their house is still flooded, but he left a note for them with Mrs Mollison, in case they come to town to look for you. She’ll let them know you’re safe and well. They must be worried sick. It’s straight home for you first thing in the morning.’

  April lingered behind the couch as her mother turned down the kerosene lamps.

  ‘April, time for bed!’

  ‘I have to say a proper goodnight,’ pleaded April, waiting for her mother to leave.

  ‘Two minutes,’ warned her mother.

  As soon as Mrs Showers left the room, April jumped under the covers with Lucy. ‘I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow. I’ve never had a friend like you, Lucy. You must come back to Avendale. You simply must. I want us to be friends forever and ever.’ She planted a big kiss on Lucy’s cheek and then slipped out from under the quilt.

  ‘Goodnight, Big,’ said Lucy.

  April laughed. ‘Sweet dreams, Little.’

  Lucy snuggled down deeper into the warmth of the couch and gazed into the embers of the fire. She wondered what Tom had told his family about her disappearing on the day of the fires. As she lay in the darkened room, she longed for her own family, for Mum and Dad and Claire and Jack. She imagined her mother at Claire’s bedside in Paris, tucking her in tightly, hoping and praying that Claire would come back to them. On the other side of the world, on the other side of time, Claire was fighting for her life. Lucy stifled a sob and fought down a wave of homesickness.

  When all the lights were out and the house fell silent, Lucy threw off the quilt and tiptoed down the hall. She stopped in front of the outside–inside room and pressed her ear against the door. It was strange to think of it as Tom’s bedroom. Was he asleep or awake? Very quietly, she turned the doorknob and peered into the room.

  Moonlight streamed in through the window. Tom lay sleeping on his bed, his face serene. Holding her breath, Lucy slipped into the room and turned to face the white wall surrounding the door. She reached out one hand to touch it but knew she couldn’t go yet. She had to tell Tom not to sign up. As she turned to cross the darkened room to wake him, his eyes flew open and he stared at her.

  ‘You owe me an explanation, Little Lucy,’ he said. He struck a match and lit the kerosene lamp on his bedside table. Then he sat on the edge of the bed with his arms folded across his chest, gazing at Lucy sternly.

  Lucy squirmed, shifting from foot to foot. How on earth could she explain herself?

  ‘Cat got your tongue?’ asked Tom. ‘It had mine too. I couldn’t tell anyone I saw you disappear into the wall of my room. They’d think I’d lost my marbles. I had to make up a cock-and-bull story about taking you back to your parents in the skiff on the day of the fires. Maybe you really are April’s doppelganger.’

  ‘I’m not her doppelganger. I’m her great-niece and this room is magic, not me. In my time there are paintings of the valley on every wall of this room, and I don’t know why but I can walk into them.’

  ‘Are you saying that you’re from the future?’

  ‘Yes!’ said Lucy. ‘I am. And that means you have to listen to me. You mustn’t join the air force tomorrow. Something terrible might happen to you.’

  ‘Might? It’s a war, Lucy. Of course something “might” happen. You don’t sign up to defend your country without understanding that you might get hurt. Tell me something I
don’t know.’

  Lucy frowned. ‘I know that you don’t live forever.’

  ‘I don’t need a visitor from the future to tell me that, kiddo,’ said Tom. ‘If you really are some sort of time-traveller, tell me what’s going to happen to me?’

  ‘Actually, I’m not exactly sure, but I don’t think you should fight in this war.’

  She could see by the look on Tom’s face that she hadn’t convinced him of anything. He was smiling at her as if she’d just told a lame joke.

  ‘I don’t believe you’re from the future at all. Sometimes I think I imagined you walking into that wall back on the day of the fires, that the smoke made me hallucinate. Maybe you just jumped out the window and lit off, took some canoe that you’d hidden and paddled home. Maybe you’re a right little trickster.’

  ‘I didn’t! I’m not!’ said Lucy, hotly. ‘I can prove it. Then you’ll have to listen to me. Stay right there. I’ll be back in one minute!’

  Lucy felt her heart beat faster as she stepped over the skirting board and into the wall.

  Crossing the River of Time

  For a moment, Lucy thought she’d arrived in a different place. She held her hand up to shield her eyes. Instead of walking into a darkened room with moonlight streaming through the window, she was staring into a bright electric bulb.

  Someone had turned the lights on. And that someone was standing at the end of the dining-room table, first staring at Lucy and then at the place in the wall that Lucy had passed through.

  ‘Lucy McKenzie!’ said Big as she clutched the edge of the table and sat down with a thud in the nearest chair. ‘The same Lucy McKenzie. Saint Lit of the Fire and Flood.’