The Tunnels of Tarcoola

by Jennifer Walsh

  First published in 2012

  Copyright © Jennifer Walsh 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced

  or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,

  including photocopying, recording or by any information storage

  and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the

  publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows

  a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is

  the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its

  educational purposes provided that the educational institution

  (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice

  to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Fax: (61 2) 9906 2218

  Email: info@allenandunwin.com

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the

  National Library of Australia

  www.trove.nla.gov.au

  ISBN 978 1 74237 675 2

  Cover and text design by Ruth Grüner

  Cover photos by house Quavondo (house), Terryfic3D, mangojuicy,

  Anna Godfrey, Kasper Rasmussen, thinair28 / iStockphoto

  Set in 11.1 pt Minion Regular by Ruth Grüner

  Printed in Australia in November 2011 at McPherson’s Printing Group,

  76 Nelson St, Maryborough, Victoria 3465, Australia.

  www.mcphersonsprinting.com.au

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Ebook Producation by Midland Typesetters Australia

  JENNIFER WALSH grew up in a country town, the youngest of three girls. When she and her sisters weren’t jumping off haystacks, they were reading. Their father also read aloud to them, starting with Great Expectations and Black Beauty and proceeding to stories he made up himself. Jennifer became a teacher, later worked in the theatre for some years, then ‘accidentally’ became a writer of computer user guides, a job that took her around the world.

  Jennifer lives in Balmain in Sydney’s inner west with her husband, actor Bruce Spence, and a tortoiseshell cat. The Tunnels of Tarcoola was inspired by the abandoned coalmines that really do exist under much of Balmain.

  ‘OUCH!’ Martin O’Brien threw his arms over his head to ward off a shower of stones as his sister slithered down the low cliff-face after him.

  ‘Stop, Kitty. Wait!’ But before he could get out of the way she had cannoned into him and they had landed in an untidy pile on the narrow beach.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ said Andrea, scrambling over the rocks to join them. ‘You said you’d come straight after school.’ There was sand in the damp hair, dyed red and black, that dangled over her forehead.

  ‘We got sprung. Martin had to do his homework before we could go out.’ Kitty had pulled her shoes and socks off and was splashing about in the shallows.

  ‘Come round here!’ called David. ‘We’ve found something really cool.’

  ‘You mean I’ve found something really cool.’ Andrea led the way around the point. Above them the cries of small children playing in the park floated on the warm spring air. People would be walking their dogs, mothers gossiping, the usual drunks slumbering peacefully in the grass. But down here at the base of the cliffs it was a different world, far from the city, far from the school on the next headland, far from the terrace houses towering over the bay.

  The park had been the centre of their lives since they were toddlers being pushed on the swings. They had played their first ball games there, tippety-run cricket on long summer evenings, soccer when the days turned cool. They had had birthday parties and family picnics there, fathers lugging the heavy portable barbecues. Now they were free to go to the park on their own, but Kitty and Martin’s cautious parents had said they weren’t to go down to the water. Martin wished he had parents like David’s, who treated him as an adult and let him do whatever he liked. Andrea could do whatever she liked too, because her mother didn’t seem to notice; and Andrea liked to do lots of things, especially if they were dangerous.

  ‘Everything’s really weird today,’ she called back. ‘The tide’s just gone way out, the way it does when a tsunami’s about to hit, you know? So suddenly there was a whole new beach and then pow! I saw it!’

  Now Kitty and Martin saw it too. The retreating tide had uncovered hard-packed sand and dark rocks of all sizes, including some they’d never seen before.

  ‘Hey, these are the Stepping Stones!’ cried Kitty, her round face pink with exertion as she tried to keep up with the others on her short legs. ‘Look, they’re sitting on the sand. And this has to be the Doughnut!’

  The Doughnut was the first of a line of rocks that stretched across the water – stepping stones only for the brave, because you had to jump a long way from rock to rock. Now, with the tide way out, you could see that the hole in the centre of the Doughnut was very deep.

  ‘It’s a giant toilet!’ Kitty giggled, climbing onto it. ‘Only all the water’s gone!’ She shoved her head into the hole and shouted, ‘Hellooooo!’

  Her long plait dangled over her eyes as she straightened up. ‘No echo?’

  ‘It’s better than that,’ said Andrea. ‘There’s a cave.’

  Martin looked around. ‘Where?’

  ‘Look,’ said David. ‘It’s . . . ’

  ‘I’m showing them.’ Andrea pushed him aside. ‘It’s my cave!’ She climbed onto the Doughnut and lowered herself into the hole. Her head disappeared, and a moment later they heard her voice, faint and slightly hollow. ‘Come on!’

  ‘Oh, wow!’ Kitty dropped her shoes and socks and scrambled into the hole. Martin followed, and they got into an awkward tangle before they managed to work out how to squeeze through the narrowest section.

  At the bottom, the shaft curved towards the cliff-face. Martin wriggled awkwardly, feet-first, into a cavern big enough to stand up in. Most of it was filled with water, now just ankle-deep, and there were constant drips from above. An eerie green light came through the hole in the Doughnut, and from other cracks and fissures in the cave walls.

  ‘Got your Gadget, David?’ muttered Martin. David whipped it out of his pocket. His father had brought the Gadget back from Japan, and it had everything: screwdrivers, scissors, a fan with detachable blades and even a little torch, all folded up like a pocket knife.

  Now David was playing the torch beam around the cavern. Andrea pointed. ‘Look, this gets better and better. A tunnel!’

  Sure enough, a fissure at the back of the cave opened into a narrow tunnel, winding downwards and to the left. David peered into it.

  ‘Great!’ he said. ‘Let’s get ropes and proper torches. Maybe if we come back on Saturday . . . ’

  ‘Oh, come on, David!’ implored Andrea. ‘Let’s explore it now. Hey, it probably doesn’t go very far.’

  ‘I really don’t think we should,’ said David firmly. ‘I think the tide’s on the turn, and it’s a bit late. What do you think, Marty?’

  ‘Yeah, what do you think, Marty?’ Andrea had that dangerous look in her eye. ‘Are you scared too?’

  ‘Course not.’ Martin felt his cheeks burning. To tell the truth, if he was scared of anything these days it was Andrea. When they were younger everyone used to say she was his girlfriend. For all he knew she still was – it was just that he couldn’t remember ever deciding that, or having a conversation with her about it. He looked apologetically at David. ‘How about we just go a little way in?’

  David shrugged
. ‘Okay, okay. Just having my say.’ The others pressed close behind him as they entered the tunnel. The light from David’s torch was weak, but in his flapping white shirt he was easy to see at the head of the little procession.

  Kitty brought up the rear, clinging to the back of Martin’s T-shirt. He could hear her muttering crossly, ‘And what about you, Kitty? What do you think we should do? Oh, what do I think? You’re asking me?’

  The tunnel dipped, then wound upwards, and the sandy floor gave way to rough rock. At one point David jumped, and Andrea gave a little scream.

  ‘Sorry,’ said David. ‘Something brushed my cheek.’

  ‘Orcs!’ breathed Martin. ‘Or maybe – could it be – the Balrog?’

  ‘Shut up, Marty!’ David shone the torch beam on the roof. Here and there bunches of tree roots had penetrated the rock.

  ‘I reckon we’re right under the park,’ said Martin.

  ‘No way.’ Kitty was quite definite. ‘We’ve gone a lot further than that. We’re somewhere near the Haunted House.’

  They were still arguing the point when David stopped suddenly and they all piled into him. ‘That does it,’ he said, making a sweeping movement with his torch. ‘We’ve got to go back and get proper equipment.’

  Ahead of them was an intersection. A tall, narrow tunnel opened to the right. The tunnel they were in veered to the left, but it was low and round – they would have to stoop or crawl to get through it.

  ‘I’m not going any further,’ said David. ‘We’ll be lost in no time.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ grumbled Andrea. ‘But we’re coming back tomorrow, right? This is the best thing we’ve found since Fang!’ Fang was the puppy they had found shivering on the beach the previous summer, now a large untidy dog who lived with Andrea’s father in the country.

  Since there was not enough room to pass each other in the narrow passage the Gadget was handed to Kitty, who led them back along the twisting tunnel.

  ‘Do you think we could have gone wrong?’ said David. ‘It seems to be taking forever.’

  ‘Well, we went a long way,’ returned Martin. ‘Look, it’s sloping down now. We’re nearly there.’

  Suddenly Kitty stopped.

  ‘Watch it!’ hissed Andrea, almost falling over her.

  ‘Ummm . . . Trouble.’ Kitty’s voice was shaking slightly. She shone the torch down the passageway ahead. They all saw the glint as its beam reflected on water.

  KITTY edged down the slope and put a foot experimentally into the water to test the depth.

  ‘How far do you think it is to the Doughnut?’ she whispered.

  ‘Dunno.’ David pushed forward to look. ‘Far enough.’

  ‘How did it fill up so fast?’ said Martin incredulously. ‘The tide was so low.’

  ‘Use your head, Marty,’ snapped David. ‘Didn’t you see the gaps in the cave walls?’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Martin felt his face burning. Sometimes he hated David.

  ‘As soon as the water reaches the cracks, this tunnel starts filling up. It’s lower than the cave.’ David flashed the torch onto the murky water lapping at their feet. ‘I should have thought of that.’

  ‘Well,’ said Andrea. ‘Think about this: how are we going to get out?’

  ‘I’ll see how far it is,’ said Martin, pulling off his T-shirt. ‘I can swim fifty metres underwater.’

  ‘No, Marty!’ Kitty clutched his arm. ‘It’s all dark and twisty. What if you go the wrong way? There could be other passages we didn’t notice.’

  ‘She’s right,’ said Andrea. ‘Or what if you get stuck, coming up through the Doughnut?’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Martin, relieved that he didn’t have to enter that dark water. ‘So I guess we just wait for the tide to go out?’

  ‘Sure,’ said David. ‘It’ll be low again in about twelve hours.’

  ‘Twelve hours!’ shrieked Kitty. ‘We can’t wait that long! Mum and Dad’ll kill us! Besides,’ she added as an afterthought, ‘I’m hungry.’

  ‘We’ll have to ring our parents,’ said Martin. ‘Can we use your phone, David?’

  David looked briefly at his phone. ‘No signal.’

  ‘And before you ask,’ said Andrea, ‘I’ve got no credit.’

  David was opening up his Gadget. ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘we might as well explore, right? We can use this blade to scratch arrows on the rock and mark our way.’

  There was no response from the others.

  ‘Come on!’ said David. ‘Do you want to just wait for the tide to come all the way in? It’ll fill this tunnel, you know. Look around – everything’s wet.’

  ‘We’ll drown!’ gasped Kitty.

  ‘Stop scaring her, David,’ said Martin. ‘The tunnel was dry further up, and you know it.’

  David shrugged. ‘Well, I’m going exploring, anyway. You lot can wait here if you like.’ And he set off up the tunnel with his Gadget, leaving them in darkness.

  ‘Da-a-a-vid!’ They stumbled after him.

  David led the way back along the tunnel, flashing the torch onto the walls. At least the rocky floor was dry, and there seemed to be enough fresh air.

  Martin wondered if David knew things about tides that he didn’t know. Probably – he was such a knowall. For example, might a very low tide be followed by one high enough to fill the whole of the tunnel system?

  Soon they reached the intersection they had found before. David scratched an arrow, pointing back the way they had come, onto the sandy tunnel wall.

  ‘Now what?’ he said, looking at Andrea. Andrea looked at her feet.

  David turned sideways and squeezed into the narrow passageway on the right. The others hesitated, watching as his torch beam flicked wildly about. Then there was darkness, and they crowded after him.

  ‘Back! Back!’ came David’s muffled voice, and with much pushing and shoving they spilled out again.

  ‘Fallen rocks,’ he explained. ‘Better try this way.’ He ducked to enter the other passage, then flashed the torch back at them.

  They crawled cautiously over dry rock. This tunnel was stuffy, with a sour smell. Martin yelped as his hand touched something sharp.

  ‘Bones!’ he said.

  ‘We’re going to die in here!’ wailed Kitty.

  ‘It’s all right, Kitty,’ said David. ‘It’s only a rat or something.’

  ‘Rats!’ shrieked Andrea.

  ‘Pretty big one, too,’ concluded Martin. Andrea moaned. Martin grinned in the darkness.

  Meanwhile, the tunnel had gradually become wider and higher, and they were able to stand up again. They walked in single file, David occasionally flashing the torch around and above them. It was easy walking for a while, then they rounded one last bend and stopped.

  ‘Another dead end,’ sighed David.

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Martin edged forward. ‘Give us the Gadget.’ He shone the torch beam onto the wall in front of them. Then he scratched at the wall with the blade.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Andrea.

  ‘This wall,’ said Martin. ‘It’s kind of flat.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Andrea ran the palm of her hand over the wall. ‘Ouch! I’ve got a splinter!’ she cried. ‘This is wood.’

  ‘Marty, you’re a legend!’ David took the Gadget and scratched around the edges of the wall, which was caked with dirt and grime.

  ‘It’s a door,’ he said. ‘But how do we get through? We’ve got to find the key.’

  ‘Maybe it uses a secret lever,’ suggested Martin, feeling around the sides.

  ‘Do you think we should try some magic words?’ contributed Kitty.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ said Andrea impatiently. ‘Who says it’s locked?’

  She put her shoulder to the door and pushed. With rusty hinges complaining, it swung stiffly open. They crowded through.

  The door opened into a small, square chamber with grimy brick walls. On each of the four sides was an arch in the brickwork. In the one opposite them was another door
. The other two arches had no doors, and led into darkness. To the left, a rusty iron ladder led upwards, towards faint lines of greenish light. There was a foul smell, like rotten eggs.

  ‘Hey, you’d know what to do here, Marty,’ said David. ‘Now, let’s see. If we go one way we’ll have to answer a riddle; another way, fight a dragon or something; another way there’ll be a dwarf who might give us information if we help him.’

  ‘Or on the other hand he might hack us to death with his axe,’ agreed Martin. ‘So which way do you want to go?’

  ‘Up,’ said Andrea. ‘Come on, this place stinks.’ She clambered up the ladder. Martin started to follow, but David grabbed his arm.

  ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘It might collapse if we all get on it.’

  Andrea reached the top and scrabbled around, then she called down, ‘I think I need some help.’ Martin was up the ladder in a flash. It creaked alarmingly under the extra weight.

  ‘There’s a lid or something above me,’ said Andrea. ‘I guess it’s a trapdoor. I can’t lift it.’

  ‘Let’s try pushing it sideways,’ suggested Martin. Clinging with one hand to the ladder, they both pushed hard at the obstruction.

  A sliver of light appeared, and the others cheered. The gap slowly widened as they kept pushing, and they heard a clatter as something fell over. When there was enough space Andrea climbed through, then the others scrambled up to join her. Martin saw that they had torn the hinges off the trapdoor, which had been covered by a pile of empty wooden crates.

  They were in a large, dim underground room dotted with square brick columns. A couple of small barred windows on one side, just under the low ceiling, allowed in some light, but the rest of the space was in deep shadow. Here and there they could see gaps like narrow doorways in the rough stone walls. More wooden crates were littered about on the dirt floor, with a couple of broken chairs and a table with a missing leg.

  ‘It’s the Haunted House!’ breathed Kitty. ‘Didn’t I tell you? We’re in the cellar of the Haunted House.’

  Everyone knew the Haunted House near the park, beside the deserted factory. It was only accessible by a narrow laneway, and there was so much tangled wilderness of garden you could hardly make out the dark, brooding shape of the building.