by Anna Jacobs
Standing motionless, he strained to hear the slightest sound, giving her plenty of time to reply.
Was that something? He listened again, but wasn’t sure.
Casting a quick guilty glance over his shoulder, he moved in the direction of the sound, breaking off branches as he went so that he’d be able to find his way back. When he’d gone fifty paces into the bush he stopped and called again.
This time he was quite sure he’d heard something. He looked up at the sky. It was getting dark fast. No long twilights here in Australia, as there had been in England. Did he have time to find her? He hoped so. He couldn’t, just couldn’t go back and leave a little girl alone in the forest. She must be terrified, poor thing.
Taking care to continue breaking off branches, leaving them hanging by shreds of bark as signposts to the men who would surely follow him, he walked on, stopping to call every twenty paces and hearing a reply every time, definitely a reply and getting louder.
Who else could it be but Janie?
Irene went to build up the fire in the lean-to, filled the kettle and put it on to boil. ‘I’d better go and get another bucket of water,’ she told Ned. ‘Don’t go away.’
When she went outside, she looked round for Jack, and realised suddenly that she hadn’t heard him cooeeing for a while. She couldn’t see any sign of him, either. Surely he hadn’t broken his promise?
She set the bucket down and walked all round the humpy, but there was no sign of him. From the forest, however, came a distant call. He had broken his promise and gone searching for his sister! She was more afraid than angry, terrified that he’d get lost as well.
Ned peered round the corner of the humpy. ‘Where’s our Jack?’
‘Gone into the bush.’ She grabbed the boy. ‘You’re not going after him. There are two children lost in the bush and you’re not making it three.’
‘Jack won’t be lost. We play trackers sometimes and he can always find his way back.’
‘I pray that’s so. Whatever happens, your father’s going to be very angry with him when he finds out what he’s done.’
‘Oh, Jack’ll be all right.’ Ned looked up at the sky. ‘It’s getting dark, so it’d be no use going after him. He’ll be lost all night. What an adventure!’
That idea seemed to fill him with such relish she kept a firm hold of his jacket as they went back into the humpy to wait.
The minutes seemed to tick past very slowly. She felt she had failed Norah and Andrew.
What if they got so cold they came down with pneumonia? She shivered at the thought.
After a while, Janie decided it was stupid to sit doing nothing, getting colder and colder. She stood up and began jumping up and down to keep warm. Then she realised she’d not been making any noises for some time. If there was one thing that had been dinned into all the children, it was that if you were lost, you had to shout every few minutes.
She cupped her hands round her mouth and tried to do that. But her voice broke down into sobs. With great difficulty she made herself stop crying and call again. This time she managed to make a noise.
But it still wasn’t loud enough. She could do far better than that. She took deep breaths and cooeed several times, then waited and listened. She knew you didn’t keep on making noises, so decided to do three calls then count to a hundred, then do three more.
She didn’t try to walk on through the forest, though, because she didn’t know which way to walk.
The next time she called, she looked up at the sky and saw in dismay that it was getting much darker. That wasn’t the grey of rain clouds, it was darkness coming on fast. What if she was lost here all night? What would she do then? It was so cold.
She almost missed the distant call, and had started counting again when it suddenly dawned on her that she’d heard a faint answering sound. Surely she had? She listened again.
Nothing.
She must have been mistaken.
Tears filled her eyes and she sagged back against the tree trunk, jerking upright as another call rang out again. She hadn’t been mistaken. Someone was looking for her.
Eagerly she called back, waiting . . . waiting . . . and yes, there it was again.
As the caller came gradually closer, tears of relief ran down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. Then she heard the noise of someone coming towards her and called out, ‘I’m here. I’m here.’
When Jack walked into the clearing where she was standing, she looked behind him, expecting to see his father or the foreman. But there was only Jack.
She began to sob. She wanted a grown-up to pick her up and hold her tight. She wanted her mother.
Jack was so glad to see her safe and sound he stopped dead and let out a groan of relief. Then he moved towards her. She seemed very little with her clothes sticking to her body and her hair flattened by rain. She was crying so hard, he put his arms round her and gave her a hug.
‘It’s all right. Shh now, it’s all right. I’ve found you and we’ll be able to find our way back.’
She put her arms round him. ‘Oh, Jack, I was so frightened! I didn’t mean to get lost. I was chasing Fluffy. I’m ever so sorry.’
‘Shh. It’s all right. I’m here now.’
He couldn’t get her to stop crying for some time.
When she did, she looked round anxiously, her face a white blur in the darkness. ‘It’s nearly night.’
‘I know. We have to stay here. We can’t find our way back in the dark because I won’t be able to see where I’ve broken off branches. But I’ll easily find my way in the morning, I promise you.’
She shivered and huddled against him.
‘We shouldn’t even try to move,’ he decided after thinking it over.
‘But it’s getting colder and colder, and I don’t have a coat. What shall we do?’
‘We’ll cuddle up to one another to keep warm and if you turn your back to me, I’ll wrap my overcoat round you. It’s a good thing my aunt bought this one too big for me.’ He moved a strand of wet hair from her eyes and pulled her close again. ‘I’ll look after you. I’m your big brother. That’s what big brothers do.’
‘You didn’t want a sister.’
‘Well, you didn’t want a brother. But we’ve got one another now, so we should make the best of it.’
Silence, then, ‘All right.’ A few seconds later she added in a rush, ‘And thank you for coming after me. I’m not frightened now I’ve got you. Well, not very.’
He looked round and seeing a leafy bush in the last of the light, said, ‘Let’s see if we can make a little shelter.’ He began to pull the branches off the bush and pile some on the ground. ‘They’ll be lumpy, but they’ll be warmer to sit on than the wet soil and mud.’
She started to help him and got a bit warmer with the activity. After they’d made a pile to sit on, they stacked some branches round the front of the hollow in the tree trunk, which gave a little protection from the cold wind.
Soon it was dark. They sat down together, huddling close. A short time later he felt her head droop against his chest and heard a soft, steady sound of breathing. She was asleep.
He felt suddenly very protective, not because it was his duty but because she was his sister now, and she felt soft and helpless as she lay cuddled in his arms, like a kitten he’d once had.
As he shifted slightly to get more comfortable, he decided he’d better stay awake. His dad and the other men might come hunting for them with lanterns. If they did, he needed to be awake to call out if he saw any lights coming through the trees.
He hoped his dad would come and find them soon, because it was bitterly cold.
21
When the searchers returned to the Boyds’ humpy, Irene burst into tears at the sight of them.
‘I’m sorry. I told Jack to stay near the humpy. He promised me he would.’
It was a minute or two before they could calm her down and find out what was wrong.
Andrew looked at Pete. ‘Would i
t be too risky to go looking for him?’
‘Well . . . I’ve been talking to the kids about what to do if they get lost in the bush. Jack was the smartest of them all and I reckon he’ll have done the right thing.’ Pete looked across at Irene. ‘Do you know at which spot he went into the bush?’
She took a minute to consider this. ‘Not exactly, but it’d be behind the house not in front and towards the right as you look at the bush.’
‘That’s a start.’ Gil picked up the lantern. ‘Get that other lantern, Andrew. Pete, you’ll come, won’t you?’
‘I will if he’s left signs; if he hasn’t, we’ll have to wait till first light.’
Norah stood up. ‘I want to come too.’
Gil shook his head. ‘Not this time. Trousers are easier when going through the bush, won’t slow us down as much.’ He looked at her skirt, which had several new tears in it from their recent foray.
When they went round to the rear of the house, Pete held up one hand. ‘Stay back.’ He walked slowly along the rough ground and stopped to finger a low-hanging branch. ‘Ha!’
‘Have you found something?’
‘Yes. Look.’
The others moved forward and saw a broken branch hanging from a strip of bark at just below a man’s eye height.
‘Told them to leave signs if they ever got lost,’ Pete said in satisfaction. ‘Clever lad, that one. Let me go first and you two stay behind till I tell you to move forward. We don’t want to destroy the clues.’ He moved on, casting around and eventually calling to his companions.
By the time they’d gone about a hundred yards into the bush, the lights of the house had disappeared, but the hurricane lanterns shed pools of brightness in the rustling darkness around the two men.
Pete stopped. ‘Time to call out, I reckon. Hold my lantern. And keep quiet afterwards.’
As the sounds he made echoed through the forest, they waited. Nothing. He raised his hands to his mouth and sent the call ringing out again. Waited again. With a sigh of disappointment, he reached for the lantern and they moved on, still finding broken branches. ‘We’re definitely on the right track.’
After the next call, he stiffened. ‘Did you hear that?’
Andrew shook his head. ‘My hearing isn’t as good as yours. Comes of toiling in a noisy workshop.’
‘I heard something. Yes, there it goes again.’ Pete answered it, then moved on again.
It took them about ten minutes to find the children. Jack didn’t get up to greet them, because he was still sitting holding Janie, who was clinging to him, her white, frightened face turned towards their rescuers.
As the boy looked up, his father saw that his son was crying, but didn’t comment. A lost lad was entitled to shed tears of relief at such a time. Hell, Andrew’s own eyes were brimming over. ‘I’ll take her. You hold my lantern, son.’
Janie held up her arms and was lifted into Andrew’s care, then Pete and Gil helped the boy up.
‘We’ve found you, love,’ Andrew told the weeping child gently. ‘You’re quite safe now, Janie.’ Without thinking, he pressed a kiss on her forehead.
She looked up at him in bewilderment, then flung her arms round his neck and cuddled closer, not saying anything, but shivering with cold.
‘Hold her a minute,’ he said to Gil, and slipped off his coat, wrapping it round her and taking her back. ‘There. Better get you back to your mother now. You need warming up.’ He looked past her to his son, who’d now got Pete’s coat round his shoulders and whose shivering was quite visible.
‘I’m sorry I disobeyed Mrs Dawson, Dad, but I could hear Janie calling and didn’t want to lose her again. She must have walked round in a circle. We didn’t move once I’d found her, just as Pete said.’
‘You did the right thing, son. I’m proud of you.’
‘I broke off branches as I went.’
‘That’s what led us here,’ Pete said. ‘Couldn’t have done it better myself.’ He had to clear his throat and swallow hard, he was so relieved to have found them.
As they neared the humpy, Gil called out, ‘We’ve got them!’ and people spilled out.
Norah surprised herself by bursting into tears as she kissed first Janie, then Jack, who wriggled in embarrassment.
Then they all went inside. When the children were dry again, they sat wrapped in blankets, sipping cocoa and telling their stories. Everyone kept reassuring one another that they’d been sure the children would be found.
‘I’ll go and get a couple of hours’ sleep now,’ Pete said. ‘Coming, Gil?’
‘I’ll walk Mrs Dawson home first. You get on your way, mate.’
When they’d left, Janie said in a sleepy voice, ‘My brother found me and my new daddy carried me back.’ She put her lips closer to her mother’s ears. ‘They don’t hate me. I thought they did, but they don’t.’
The words had been perfectly audible to the others, but Andrew only winked at his sons and when Ned would have made a comment, Jack shushed him up quickly.
‘Better set that alarm clock of yours,’ Andrew said to Norah. ‘The milk truck waits for no one.’
Before they got into their narrow stretcher beds, she pulled him towards her and gave him a long embrace. ‘I think it’s going to be all right now. With Janie, I mean.’
‘I think so too.’
Only when the humpy was silent and Andrew’s breathing had slowed right down did she allow herself to weep out her relief.
The following morning Gil was awake well before dawn, because he’d not really settled, only dozed on and off. His thoughts kept going back to Irene, who had said very little as he took her home. He kept trying to remember whether she’d given any hints as to what her answer would be to his offer of marriage.
Ah, he was an old fool! Why would she want a fellow like him, twelve years older than she was?
But just in case, he put on a clean shirt and did his best with his hair, gazing in the small shaving mirror, fingering the greying hairs at each temple and frowning in concentration as he soaped his face and slid the safety razor across it. He should have bought some new razor blades. These were blunt. He didn’t want to go to her with cuts on his face.
She didn’t come out when he arrived to milk the cows but there was a curl of smoke rising from the lean-to.
He went across to it, had to see her, just to make sure she was all right.
She came to the door and gave him a very solemn look. ‘I should have given you an answer before now, Gil. I’m sorry about that.’
‘It’s important, shouldn’t be rushed.’
‘Everything seems to be rushed at the moment. How long before I must move out?’
‘A week or so.’
‘And what about the cows and chooks? What do we do with them?’
‘They go back to the bank, but in practical terms they’ll be given to another family.’
‘I see. Would you like a cup of tea?’
He just wanted to be put out of his misery but she obviously wanted to take things slowly. ‘That’d be nice.’ At least it gave him an excuse for spending time with her.
When they were sitting down, she took a few sips of her tea, then drew in a deep breath and turned to him. ‘I’m grateful for your offer, Gil. It’s very kind indeed of you. But I can’t accept. It’s too soon. I’m still trying to get used to the idea that Freddie’s no longer here.’
‘I know that. I’d not have said anything, only you’ll be leaving soon.’
Briefly her hand rested on his. It might have been a burning brand from the fire, because it seemed to mark his flesh with warmth. ‘What shall you do?’
‘Sell everything I can and go to Perth – or Fremantle. Try to find a job until the baby arrives.’
‘It’ll be hard.’
She nodded. ‘Yes. I’m terrified. But that’s no reason to take advantage of you.’
‘It’s me who was trying to take advantage of you, lass. I’m a lot older. Why should you want a fellow like me
?’
‘Don’t talk like that! You’re a wonderful man, would make someone a fine husband.’
‘But not you.’
‘No. Not me. It’s too soon.’
They both sipped again, then he had a sudden thought. ‘I can give you an address to go to in Fremantle, if that’s any help. Nelly’s a cousin of mine. She’ll put you up if I ask her.’
‘You’d do that?’
‘Of course I would. I’ll write to her at once and find someone going to Pemberton to get it in the post tonight.’
‘Oh, Gil, I feel even worse about turning you down.’
His voice came out harsher than he’d intended. ‘Don’t say that! I don’t want you accepting out of gratitude. It’s love I feel for you, not pity.’ He stood up, not caring that he’d overturned the cup. ‘I’ll go and milk the cows.’
Her voice floated after him. ‘Thank you.’
He strode across to the cow shed. At least Irene would be all right with Nelly, who had a big heart. She’d tried to help him, too, after the war. But she’d failed because he’d needed time and another purpose in life before he pulled out of his miseries. He looked round. He loved it here, would make it his home, even if he couldn’t get his heart’s desire.
By the time he’d finished milking the first cow, Irene was there to separate the cream, not saying a word, just getting on with it.
He was glad she didn’t try to force a conversation. What was there to say now that wouldn’t rub salt into the wound?
When Irene left Northcliffe, Gil arranged for her to have a lift to Pemberton on the milk truck. He set the men off on their day’s work and went off to his own block to finish the lean-to. He didn’t feel like company today.
But he didn’t make much progress. He kept wondering where she was now, if she’d got on the train yet.
Strange, though. This time, sad as he was, he didn’t feel the urge to get drunk. That urge seemed to have left him totally now and he didn’t care whether he ever had another drink or not.