‘Is someone coming to pick you up?’ the woman from the plane asked.
‘Yes,’ Ashley said uncertainly, looking around. ‘My aunt is meant to be here.’
‘What does she look like?’
Ashley realised she had no idea what Micky looked like. She just had to hope that she would recognise her. Her bag appeared on the carousel and she swooped on it.
‘Do you want us to wait with you?’ Nancy asked.
Ashley hesitated. Nancy was a complete stranger, but, to tell the truth, she felt a bit scared by herself in the airport. What if Micky didn’t turn up? Her phone had no charge on it. She didn’t know what she’d do. She was just old enough that the airline left her to her own devices, but for a moment she really wished she’d been travelling as an ‘unaccompanied minor’ — then someone from the airline would’ve had to stay with her until her aunt arrived.
‘Hey, kid!’ A loud voice echoed over the baggage area. ‘Ashley?’
Ashley spun around. A tall woman was standing in the centre of the area, also looking for someone. She was dressed in a bright orange shirt and lime-green pants, and wearing a hat with an orange band around it over her short black hair. She cupped her hands around her mouth. ‘Are you here, Ashley?’
People were staring and some were laughing. Nancy gave her a little shove. ‘That’s her, isn’t it? Bye-bye, love. Have a great holiday.’
Ashley took hold of her wheelie bag and started trundling it towards the orange-clad woman. She halted in front of her.
‘Oh, it’s you, is it?’ The woman grinned. She had blue eyes, just like Ashley and her mother did. ‘Thought that’d get you out of the woodwork. Haven’t seen you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper.’
‘Um. Hi,’ Ashley muttered, embarrassed. People were watching them and she just wanted to get out of there. ‘I’m ready.’
‘Good-oh,’ Micky said. ‘Let’s hop to it. The chariot awaits. The steeds are restless. Time waits for no man. Or woman.’
Her aunt swung on her heel and started striding towards the exit, and Ashley grabbed the bag again and hurried after her, blinking. Micky looked like Ashley’s mother, but acted nothing like her. Ashley hadn’t expected her aunt to be quite so — embarrassing.
They headed out into the rain. Micky hardly seemed to notice that it was pouring, though at least she paused so Ashley could catch up with her.
‘You’re in for some fun and games,’ she said. ‘BOM says there’s a cyclone heading our way. It won’t be a cyclone by the time it gets here, but we’ll have a good old blow, that’s for sure. And it usually means plenty of drop bears to keep us busy. At least it’ll be easier to get leaf.’
Ashley had no idea what Micky was talking about. Bomb? Drop bears? Leaf? But it was raining too heavily for her to ask. Water was running down the back of her neck and she was already soaking wet.
Her aunt was striding ahead again. ‘We have to get a wriggle on,’ Micky said. ‘Creek’s rising. Step on it, kid.’
They reached the car. Ashley had never seen anything like it. It was a van with a peace symbol on the front, and covered with a painted mural of birds and animals, breaking waves, the sun and moon, and a few fish thrown in.
Micky jiggled with the handle on the back door while Ashley stood in the rain getting even wetter. Her aunt hoisted the suitcase into the back, shoved the sliding door shut again and ran around to the driver’s side. She opened the passenger door from the inside and Ashley hopped in, relieved to be out of the rain.
Micky rubbed her sleeve on the windscreen, which was fogged. ‘The old girl looks a bit out of place here, eh?’ She peered at the other cars, which were nearly all either silver or white, and almost indistinguishable. ‘Meet the Argo. She comes from the days when cars had character. You could tell a lot about a person from her car.’
She pushed in the clutch and turned the key. The engine clicked a few times and was silent. ‘Mm,’ Micky said. ‘Colourful, but somewhat unpredictable.’
She tried again, and this time, to Ashley’s relief, the engine roared into life. There was no doubt it was running. In fact, it was the loudest car engine Ashley had ever heard.
‘But ultimately she comes good,’ Micky said, manoeuvring the long gear stick into reverse. ‘We’re off!’
They joined the queue of cars leaving the carpark. Ashley pulled her phone out of her pocket. She couldn’t believe her mother had let her go with a flat battery. She couldn’t even text Emma and find out if she was home with Bella.
Micky glanced over at her. ‘Won’t have much fun with that at my place. Reception’s rubbish. Mine doesn’t work most of the time.’
As they rolled forwards and her aunt paid for the parking, Ashley wondered what she was going to do for the next fortnight. No phone, plenty of rain, and drop bears, whatever they were. She stared gloomily at the drops of water trickling down the glass.
The rain runs down his back, making a cold line through his fur and dripping off his bottom. He shivers and hunches into a tighter ball, tucking his ears down and holding his arms in close. The water still beats on him; he can’t get away from it. His mother hasn’t taken them to The Dry, where the leaves shelter them from the worst of the downpour.
She hunches on the branch above him. He has tried three times to climb into her lap and each time she’s swatted him away irritably. He curls below her for shelter and tries to sleep, as they normally do when the Bright comes. But the rain is keeping him awake.
I’m hungry.
His mother doesn’t answer, but his belly is rumbling and they are far down The Hungry now, a long way from the soft leaves that he likes. The only thing for him is her milk.
Please.
There’s no answer, but he climbs towards her anyway and this time she allows him into her lap. It’s warm there and, because she’s been curled into a ball to let the rain run off her back, it’s dry, and he sighs with relief as he cuddles into her, turns himself around and finds the teat. She tucks an arm around him as he suckles.
A gust of wind blows more rain onto them and he feels her shiver. She hasn’t moved from the fork in the tree for a long time, and she hasn’t eaten either.
He glances over at the tree beside them, The Hidden. It has new, pinkish shoots. Perhaps his mother would eat them?
He lets go of the teat and nudges her. The Hidden has new leaves. Can we go there?
She turns her head, moves it from side to side. I can’t see.
He looks up. Her eyes are swollen completely closed, huge bulges of pink skin with slits in the centre. She can’t even blink.
We’ll just stay here till it stops raining.
He doesn’t know what to do. He nuzzles her fur and she puts both her arms around him and squeezes. They stay like that, holding each other, as the rain comes down harder around them. He feels himself falling asleep. Perhaps when they wake up and the Bright is gone, she will be better.
Chapter 5
Ashley woke as the Argo bumped to a halt. She blinked and straightened her stiff neck. ‘Are we there?’
‘Nearly.’ Micky wiped the windscreen with her sleeve. The wiper went back and forth with a clatter and the windscreen was so fogged up that Ashley could barely see ahead of them.
When she’d fallen asleep, they’d been driving smoothly down the highway, but now they were in a gloomy forest. She peered out. She could dimly see a dirt road through endless ranks of tall trees.
‘Can you see the number on the sign?’ Micky asked.
‘I can’t see any sign,’ Ashley said grumpily.
‘The flood-level sign, kid. Hop out and have a look, would you? It needs to be below 0.6 for us to get across the causeway. If you can’t see 0.6, we’re stuffed.’
Ashley opened the door a crack. The rain was still falling and now it was windy too, blowing the drops into her face. She’d only just managed to dry off a little from the airport and now she was going to get soaked again.
She jumped to the ground, landing in
ankle-deep muddy water, which immediately ran into her shoes. In front of the Argo, a wide stream of water ran right across the road. Some distance in, a tall, thin white sign poked out with the flood-height levels marked on it. The bottom of the sign was covered, but she could read the numbers above the water level.
She hopped back into the car, using the handle above the window to pull herself up. ‘It’s 0.4.’
‘Just a nice little paddle,’ Micky said, and revved. The Argo rolled forwards into the water, which sprayed up on either side of them as if they were in a boat. It wasn’t very deep, but the stretch of water was very wide.
‘Is it dangerous?’ Ashley asked.
‘Not at 0.4. Get above 0.6 and we could find ourselves taking a little trip downstream,’ Micky said. ‘Only four cars have washed away this year, so don’t worry too much. It helps having a car named after a ship.’
Ashley couldn’t work out when her aunt was joking and when she was serious. ‘What do you do if the water’s higher than 0.6?’
Micky answered without taking her eyes off the road. ‘Depends how lucky you’re feeling. You turn around and find somewhere else to stay, or you drive in and chance it. But it’s very expensive if the engine floods. And a bit hairy if you get swept off the causeway and find yourself upside down in the creek.’
Ashley stared at her. ‘A bit hairy?’
‘Yeah.’ Micky didn’t return the look. ‘Hairy. You know, the kind of thing where you wish you’d thought harder about it before you started. Mostly I just stay at home if it looks like the road’ll get cut off. We’re all used to it up here — it happens every couple of years. Last year it was three weeks. They had to drop in supplies by helicopter.’
Shocked, Ashley scrubbed at her own foggy window and stared out through the clear patch. Somehow as she’d dozed they’d left the urban area of the Gold Coast and entered some weird new world. It looked like a jungle out there — thick, dark vegetation, big, heavy vines twisting and hanging from the trees, and the Argo swishing through the moving water as if it really was a ship like its namesake. It felt like the kind of place where you could easily get stuck for three weeks. Or forever.
‘Made it!’ Micky hit the wheel triumphantly as they emerged from the water. ‘Go the Argo! Legend!’
‘I thought it was safe,’ Ashley said.
Micky shrugged. ‘Safe, schmafe. You can always hit a pothole on the causeway and tip over. Nothing’s safe, my girl.’
Ashley wondered if her mother knew that Micky lived on the wrong side of a dangerous river crossing. ‘Has Mum ever visited you up here?’
‘Sure!’ Micky said, flooring the accelerator and forcing the Argo into a rattling high speed, making them bounce as they hit potholes every few seconds. ‘Years ago. In the dry season. No problem with the causeway, but I think she found it all a bit primitive.’
As the Argo strained up a steep hill, the trees thinned out and the gloom lifted a little.
‘We’re coming into koala habitat,’ Micky said. ‘Notice how the vegetation just changed? Back down at the creek it’s rainforest, but as we climb up to the ridge it’s open eucalypt forest. The soil’s different, you see.’
‘I am on school holidays, you know,’ Ashley said. ‘Geography finished last week.’
Micky turned the big steering wheel hard and the Argo swung into a driveway and skidded to a halt in front of a metal gate. ‘It’s not geography. It’s my life. Could you do me the honour?’
‘What?’
‘The gate, kid. Close it after you.’
Ashley got out, shaking her head. Her feet went straight into a puddle again, but she was past caring. She stumbled to the gate and saw a wooden nameplate with Toad Hall carved into it. She sighed. She’d liked The Wind in the Willows when she was about eight. Did this mean her aunt had never grown out of it?
She dragged the gate around and Micky roared through, splashing her with muddy water. Ashley dragged the gate closed again, dropped the latch over the peg and turned. Micky had kept driving without her and Ashley started to run after the Argo, splashing through the puddles. She caught up as Micky pulled to a halt outside the strangest house Ashley had ever seen.
It was made of — well, as far as she could see, just about everything. The front wall was some kind of brick or stone, broken up by two curved windows. There was grass on the roof, bits of tin and wood sticking out at weird angles, and the bottoms of green bottles cemented into the wall.
‘Like it?’ Micky called as she hopped out. ‘Don’t just stand there — you’ll get soaked. Be my guest — head inside. Shoes off at the door. I’ll bring your bag.’
Ashley wasn’t going to wait for the offer of help to come a second time. She bolted for the little porch with its curved roof, where a jumble of boots spilled over the ground and coats of all descriptions hung on hooks embedded in the wall. She kicked off her sodden shoes, pushed the door and stepped inside.
A cosy warmth radiated, engulfing her, and she stopped shivering almost immediately. On the far wall an old-fashioned wood stove was burning happily. By the look of it, that’s what Micky actually used for cooking, for no other stove was in evidence in the tiny kitchen.
There was a bang behind her as Micky crashed through the door and put down the suitcase. ‘Let’s get the kettle on. You’ll need a cuppa: you look a little damp.’
Ashley looked down. Muddy water was running off her and forming a puddle on the floor. She could feel the rain dripping from her hair. A little damp? Please.
‘I don’t drink tea. Can I have a Coke?’ she asked.
‘It’ll rot your insides and send you mad,’ Micky said. ‘Won’t have that stuff in here. Don’t worry, once you’ve tasted my chai, you’ll never drink Coke again. Go and get changed. Your room is just up those stairs. Bring your wet clothes back down.’
She pointed at a winding staircase that looked barely wide enough for Ashley to climb at all, let along drag her bag up. The house looked indeed as if Toad might have designed it, with its funny angles and corners.
She hoped Micky was going to offer to help with the bag again, but she headed over to the wood stove, opened the door and began stoking up the flames. Ashley watched for a moment, then started up the stairs, dragging the bag behind her, squeezing it around the tight corners.
The room was so tiny there was only space for the bed, a chest of drawers and a spot to put the suitcase. A small bookshelf with some old books and a lamp were attached to the wall next to the bed, which was covered with a patchwork quilt. A round window looked straight out into the trees outside. Ashley knelt on the bed and pressed her face to the glass. The wind was still blowing and the rain was falling in a steady kind of way. The trees swayed and, above them, she could see heavy grey clouds.
She opened her bag, found some dry clothes and started peeling off her wet ones. It was only when she pulled off her soaking wet jacket that she remembered her phone in the pocket. She snatched it out and stared down at it in dismay. It was kind of wet.
Ashley flung the phone down on the bed — though, as always, not hard enough to damage it. She supposed it didn’t make much difference either way, given the flat battery. As she looked around the room, she realised there was no spare power point either.
She pulled off the rest of her sodden clothes and dressed herself in the dry ones with a sigh of relief. She used the towel on the bed to dry her hair, bundled up the wet clothes and the phone, and squeezed back down the winding staircase.
Micky was pouring out some steaming, milky drink into a big mug. ‘You don’t look so much like a drowned rat now. Get this into you.’
Ashley took the mug and held up her phone. ‘Can I charge this?’
Micky held out her hand and Ashley gave the phone to her. Micky pocketed it.
‘Hey!’
‘Sorry. Your mother said no phone while you’re here.’
Ashley stared at her, aghast. ‘You’ve got no right to do that!’
Micky pushed a pot of h
oney towards her. ‘Chai tastes much better with honey. Big spoonful, good stir. Anyway, what do you want a phone for?’
‘Didn’t Mum tell you?’ Ashley snapped. ‘My best friend got her puppy today and I was meant to get mine too, from the same litter, only I’m not allowed now because Dad has lost his job. So, you know, I’d actually like to talk to my best friend. And maybe see a photo or two.’
Micky shrugged. ‘That’s only going to make it worse, as far as I can see. But you can give her a call on the landline if you want.’
The landline was on the wall near the kitchen — and it was the old-fashioned sort with a receiver attached. Not exactly private. Ashley put down her cup so hard that its milky contents splashed over the countertop. ‘You don’t know what’s best for me, and neither does Mum. My heart is breaking, and no one cares!’ She stamped over to the lounge and flung herself down on the chair, her bottom lip stuck out and her arms crossed. She could feel tears threatening again.
‘Settle down. At least your puppy is still alive. You’ll get over it.’ The way Micky spoke suggested she didn’t care much what Ashley was feeling. ‘Drink up. Everything looks better after a chai.’
Ashley hesitated a moment, looking up at her strange aunt. Much as she hated to admit it, Micky was probably right. Looking at photos of Emma and Bella was just going to make her feel worse.
She sipped the chai, ready to spit it out if it was disgusting. But it wasn’t. To her surprise, it was sweet and milky and kind of spicy, nothing like the tea her mother drank.
Micky’s face softened and she grinned. ‘There you go. Finish up, and I’ll introduce you to a drop bear.’
Chapter 6
They are on the ground and Youngster knows it’s not a good place for them: not in the rain, not in the Bright. He tugs anxiously at his mother’s ears.
Dexter Page 3