Girl & the Ghost-Grey Mare
Page 17
Later, still hovering near the front door, Trish spoke to the blue-uniformed men who’d come in the ambulance. She was dabbing her eyes with a crisp white handkerchief, pulled from within the belly of a snakeskin handbag.
‘I haven’t been in for a while,’ she said. ‘Very busy, you know. My husband and I are away a lot … on business. But we made sure she had everything she needed.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s a wonder the neighbours didn’t notice anything. Surely they could’ve called someone when they hadn’t seen her about for a few days?’
The ambos nodded at her and one muttered, ‘You’d be surprised how often elderly people aren’t missed for days on end.’
Trish looked out onto the street where cars raced past in a rush.
‘I’ve no idea where that damn dog went. If you see him let me know.’
‘Sure,’ said the ambulance driver, unlocking the brake on the stainless-steel trolley. ‘Now if you don’t mind, we’ll take her out the back way, through the garden. We couldn’t get parking out the front.’
As Trish gingerly entered the apartment, she stooped to pick up the phone book that lay open beside the chair. She frowned, wondering why on earth her mother would have circled Poultry in the Yellow Pages.
When they wheeled Evie’s body through the garden and along the pathway, the man doing laps in the pool didn’t stop. The bronzed woman lying on a sun lounge talked into her mobile phone and didn’t look up. Then, as they opened the gate from the garden, a leaf blower roared into action. It was right on midday when the men shut the doors of the ambulance. The automatic sprinklers popped up and began to water the lawn. And out on the street, no one seemed to care that an old red kelpie was dodging traffic and loping, terrified, into the heart of the city.
Days later, Barnaby arrived. He arrived with the pads of his paws bleeding and bruised and with concrete-worn claws. His nerves were jangled by noise and his stomach rumbled from hunger. The old dog stood at the entrance to Evie and Henry’s farm, his tongue hanging out, his ribs showing beneath his dull coat. He slumped down where the large gum tree used to be.
In its place above him towered a sign. Red Gums Estate – The Best of Country Living. Contact Neil or Trish for investment details.
Barnaby sighed and sniffed the petrol-filled air. Beyond the sign, stretching as far as his old eyes could see, were rows of orange-tiled roofs, one after the other, and on and on.
Hours later, a ute pulled out of the stream of traffic and rolled to a stop. Barnaby lifted his head from the concrete where he lay. A young man stepped out and crouched down. Barnaby could smell it, the smell of soil and fresh air and the best thing of all … chooks! He wagged his tail.
‘What’s an old bloke like you doing in a place like this?’ the man said. ‘You lost?’
Barnaby heaved himself to his feet and looked at the young man.
‘Your guardian angel must be lookin’ after you today, fella,’ the man said. ‘C’mon, we’ll get some soil under your paws. I’ll take you somewhere you belong.’ He scooped up the dog and laid him gently on the seat of his ute. And then they drove away, away from the place where Evie and Henry’s farm used to be.
MICHAEL JOSEPH
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First published by Penguin Group (Australia), 2011
Text copyright © Rachael Treasure 2011
The moral right of the author has been asserted
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ISBN: 978-1-74253-410-7