She started to walk back along the path, her arm over Bella’s neck, then turned in surprise as the pony stopped. ‘Come on, girl.’ Bella always followed her. ‘Good girl, Bella, let’s go.’ Bella didn’t budge. Biddy took a handful of mane. ‘Come on, Bell, come on, girl,’ she pleaded, pulling her mane. But the pony would not move.
Biddy’s happy tears turned to tears of frustration. The weird voice was still calling, over and over, and it was coming closer all the time. Biddy felt terrified. ‘Come on, Bella! This is serious!’ She walked behind the pony and smacked her on the rump, trying to drive her away from that creepy voice.
‘Don’t! Don’t do that!’ Suddenly Joe was there, facing her over Bella’s rump. Biddy knew her mouth was open, that she was gawking, but she couldn’t help it. He was so clean. She’d expected him to look like a wild animal, hairy and dirty, but he was polished like an apple. His hair was really short. It was like the haircut she had given Tigger when she was little: short but uneven. He looked terrified, as though he’d run any minute, and he was hanging on to Bella like a limpet.
She smiled at him but his face didn’t change. He looked past her anxiously. ‘It’s all right,’ Biddy said softly, ‘there’s only me. I’m by myself.’ She smiled at him again and this time he smiled back. He had a beautiful smile. ‘Joe?’ He nodded, and Biddy reached across Bella’s back, offering him her hand. ‘I’m Biddy.’ Joe looked at her hand. ‘You’re supposed to shake it. Shake hands. It’s what people do when they say hello.’
He smiled again and grabbed her hand. Biddy winced. Joe was smaller than her, but his hand felt as calloused and strong as her father’s. He shook her hand up and down.
‘That’s okay. You can stop now,’ Biddy told him. ‘You only do it for a little while.’ She took her bruised hand back and glanced over her shoulder. She half expected Joycie to come roaring along the track. Biddy bet she’d be like one of those big scary mothers at school who yelled at you if you picked on their kids. She must be pretty crazy to have lived out here all this time. She turned back to Joe. ‘Hey! That’s my—’ She was going to say, ‘that’s my oilskin coat,’ but she bit her lip. It was the one Lorna had lost last autumn, but she didn’t want to scare Joe away by accusing him of stealing. He was rubbing Bella gently around her ears, and the pony looked as if she was in heaven.
Biddy pushed aside a little twinge of jealousy. ‘Thanks for saving her.’
Joe smiled again. He looks so like Irene, Biddy thought. Same smile, same skinny brown arms, except Joe’s were covered with scars and scabs. I bet when his hair grows it’s black and crinkly like Irene’s.
‘She’s good. She’s tough. Devil likes her, too.’ His voice was soft and mumbled, and Biddy thought he was talking about his mother.
‘Where is she?’ Her voice sounded like a foghorn compared to his. ‘Why were you on your own when you rescued Bella? Where’s Joycie?’
Joe looked at his fingers sliding through Bella’s woolly coat. He was silent for a little while, then he murmured something that Biddy didn’t catch.
‘What?’ she asked, reaching to stroke Bella’s neck. ‘What did you say?’
Joe looked up and into her eyes. ‘She died.’
Biddy didn’t know what to say. She stared at the ground for what seemed ages and when she looked up Joe was doing the same thing. He was sniffing. Biddy thought he wouldn’t want her to think he was crying, so she started talking. ‘I’m sorry. Are you all right? What happened to her? Umm, er, what did she die of? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You must have been lonely . . . ’ Her voice trailed off.
‘I think it was about a year ago.’ Joe was still looking at the ground, but he’d stopped sniffing. ‘She just got sick and died. You talk a lot.’
Biddy smiled and looked up at the sky. It was tinged with pink. She suddenly thought of her parents. Dad had said that they’d have to leave at sunset to get the ute around the beach. She looked at Joe. ‘How long does it take to get to the beach from here?’
‘A while.’
‘No, I mean in hours. How many hours would it take?’
Joe shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Don’t know hours. Joycie taught me, but we never had a clock.’
Biddy felt stupid. ‘Well, could we get to the beach before dark?’
Joe shook his head. ‘No. Too far.’
Biddy rested her arms over Bella’s back. Her parents would kill her. She’d done everything wrong. She’d got Bella bogged, then let the horses go and now she’d disappeared. She hoped the worry wouldn’t make Grandpa sick. Surely they’d go home, and come back tomorrow morning?
She felt a touch on her back, light as a feather. It was Joe’s hand. ‘You all right . . . Bid . . . Biddy?’ he asked.
Now it was Biddy’s turn to sniff. ‘Yeah. Thanks, Joe. Just worried about my mum and dad and Grandpa.’
Joe gave her one of his lovely smiles. ‘Come on. Come back to my place. We’ll walk out in the morning. You can meet Devil.’
He turned and Bella followed him. So much for my loyal horse, thought Biddy. She had to jog to keep up with Joe. He had a strange gliding walk, almost silent, as though he hardly touched the ground.
‘Who’s Devil?’
‘My dog. My dingo.’ Joe stopped, and Biddy took the opportunity to vault onto Bella’s back. She’d felt like a little kid, tagging behind him. On Bella, she felt like a princess. They walked on.
‘Devil’s shy. He might not like you.’ Biddy felt miffed again. Of course his dog would like her. Just then the path opened on to the valley. Joe stopped again and whistled twice; low whistles that Biddy could barely hear. Nothing stirred.
Biddy thought Joe’s home was the best house she’d ever seen. She’d made cubbies, but they were always flimsy things that fell down; just play houses. This was proper. She tried out the bed, sat on the chair, examined the stove. ‘I feel like Goldilocks,’ she laughed, then stopped suddenly. ‘Sorry. You probably don’t know about Goldilocks.’
‘Yes I do.’ Joe pulled a tin of books from under his bed. ‘Look, here’s the story. It was one of my best ones when I was little.’ The pages were soft and faded, but there wasn’t a rip or a crease.
Underneath the books was a pile of comics. They were so old they felt like cloth. ‘Hey! The Phantom! I love these comics. Irene always gets them.’ Biddy flipped through the first one and idly read a page.
‘So that’s what you were calling Bella this afternoon: Hero. You were calling her Hero.’ She pointed at a drawing of the Phantom’s white horse. ‘D’you reckon you’re the ghost-who-walks?’
Joe blushed. ‘She didn’t mind. But you call her what you like. Why Bella, anyway?’
‘It means beautiful.’
Joe put the comics and books away. ‘That suits her. That’s much better than Hero.’
Biddy walked outside and almost stepped on a dead rabbit lying beside Joe’s campfire. ‘Why would a rabbit die there?’ she asked.
Joe started to giggle.
‘What’s so funny? What? Tell me.’
‘It didn’t die there.’ He was nearly bursting with laughter. ‘Devil left it. It’s our dinner.’
Biddy’s father crested the last rise before the beach. He had run all the way back, but the heavy sand of the dunes slowed him to a walk. He was angry with Biddy for not being where he’d left her, but at the same time he felt sick with worry. What could have made the horses bolt like that? As he ran, he faltered at every bend, half expecting to find Biddy lying crumpled around the turn, but it hadn’t happened. She must have stuck on. He looked down to the beach where Lorna was holding the three horses beside the ute. Gordon and Blue were streaked with dried sweat. They must have been going like the wind.
‘Is she all right?’ he called. Lorna cupped her hand to her ear. Dave raced down the dune in giant sliding steps and ran
towards her. ‘Is she all right?’ he asked again, trying to see past the horses, into the ute. Grandpa was sitting in the passenger seat with his arm hooked over the door. Dave could almost see Biddy sitting there beside him.
Lorna stepped in front of him. ‘What do you mean?’ She grabbed his arm. ‘Biddy’s not here. I thought she was with you. The horses came back alone.’
Dave couldn’t take it in. He pushed past her and peered through the open window. There was nothing on the seat but the thermos.
‘So you’ve never been anywhere but the headland?’ Biddy sucked her fingers clean and put the last rabbit bone on the pile beside her. She was saving them for Devil.
Joe hugged his knees. ‘No. This is it. Mum always said there were too many bad people. My dad got killed in the town.’
Biddy had to lean forward to hear his voice above the crackle of the fire. ‘I know. I know that story from Irene.’ She had told Joe that his cousin was her best friend. ‘But you musn’t think that would happen again. Most people are kind, like us.’
Bella was cadging damper from Joe, reaching over to pick the pieces from his lap. Joe leaned against her, his eyes closed. He looked so tired, thought Biddy, so small and tired. ‘Are you scared?’ she asked. ‘I mean about the town. You are going to come back with me, aren’t you?’
Joe nodded and looked into the fire. ‘I’ve been following you all the time. I was going to talk to you the night before last, but I wanted to get my things. I thought your mum and dad mightn’t let me come back. Then I missed you yesterday— Hey! I just remembered something.’ He darted into his house. Biddy couldn’t get used to the way he moved so fast and silently. ‘Look!’ He came out wearing her beanie. ‘I found this on the beach.’
‘Hey! My hat! Thanks, Joe.’ She went to grab it, but he skipped out of her reach.
‘Finders keepers. That’s what Jozz used to say.’
Biddy chased him around the fire, first one way and then the other. She had no hope of catching him; he was as fast and slippery as an eel. She plopped onto her log, panting and laughing. ‘I give in. You can keep it.’
‘No, I was only playing,’ Joe wrapped the hat around a stick and tossed it across the fire to Biddy, but before she could catch it, a yellow shape—an animal—flashed past and the hat was gone. Biddy screamed. Joe hurried around the fire to her. ‘It’s okay. That was Devil. He couldn’t help himself. His favourite game is keepings-off.’
Biddy stirred. She and Joe were curled together under the rabbit-skin rug, but something was waking her. Something was tickling her face. She opened her eyes and froze. A pair of amber eyes stared at her from the edge of the bed. ‘Hello, Devil,’ Biddy whispered. The dingo dropped the hat onto the bed, then settled beside the door. He gave Biddy a friendly look, and rested his head on his paws. ‘Goodnight, Devil. Nice to meet you,’ she said softly. Then she, too, drifted back to sleep.
Irene shut the chook-house door, then peered into the dark to make sure the catch was secure. She heard a car pull up at the front of the house and hurried around to see who was there. It was the Frasers. Good, Biddy could tell her about the muster.
‘Hi, Mr Fraser, Mrs Fraser, Old Mr Fraser.’ She and Biddy always called each other’s grandfathers Old Mr Fraser and Old Mr Rivers, so they didn’t mix them up with their fathers.
‘Evening, Irene.’ Biddy’s father didn’t smile. Usually he made a big fuss of Irene and called her McGerk. Biddy was Erk and she was McGerk. ‘Is your father home?’
‘Yes.’ Irene led them up the front steps. ‘Where’s Biddy? Why isn’t she with you?’ Nobody answered.
The door opened, spilling inside light onto the verandah, then all the adults were talking at once: quicksand, Bella, bogged, Biddy, lost, Joycie, Joe, tracks . . .
Irene tugged her mother’s sleeve. ‘Are they alive, Mum? Has Biddy found them?’
‘Be quiet. Let me listen.’ Her mum shoved her little brother into her arms. ‘Take Tom and read him a story.’
There was no way Irene was leaving the room. She sat Tom on the sink and fed him bits of banana—anything to keep him quiet while she listened.
‘Do you think she’s met up with them? With Joycie and Joe?’ Irene heard her father ask.
Dave took off his hat and ran his hand over his head. ‘I don’t know. I think I’d have found her if she’d been hurt. And I made it clear she was to stay put. Really drummed it into the little beggar.’
‘She must be with them,’ Lorna’s voice cut in, softer than normal. ‘That’s the only reason she’d disobey you. I think she’s gone with Bella and Joycie and Joe.’ She turned to Irene’s father. ‘This is a terrible question, Mick, but do you think Joycie would harm her? Would she chase her away?’
‘No. You’ve got nothing to worry about there.’ Irene’s father started to roll a map out on the table. ‘I don’t care how loopy she might have got, she wouldn’t hurt anybody. She’s just too gentle.’
Irene cleared the plates off the table to make a space for the map. ‘Good girl.’ Her dad passed her the bowls. Whew, thought Irene, I’m not invisible any more. She hated the way parents ignored you when something serious was going on. She bumped Tom onto her hip and stood behind her grandfather. He was very pale.
‘It’s almost nine years.’ His voice wavered. ‘Nine years. It’d be a bloody miracle. It’d be like getting her back from the grave.’
Biddy’s grandfather pulled out his pipe and started to light it. ‘Don’t go putting the cart before the horse, my old mate. It might not be them. We’ve only seen one set of tracks, remember. Let’s have a look at this map.’
The two old men reached into their top pockets and put their glasses on exactly the same way. Irene smiled, and her father caught it. ‘That’s right. Like an old mar- ried couple, they’re that alike.’ He spun the map to face them.
‘Now. We’ve got three horses down there, low tide at four a.m., and what should be a fairly clear set of prints. And,’ he tapped his fingers on the table, then pointed to Mick and Pops, ‘we’ve got two of the best trackers south of the divide. Let’s be down there, so we can start looking at first light.’
‘Do you think we should tell anyone?’ asked Irene’s mother. ‘Should we tell the police?’
‘And what do you think the police are going to do?’ Pops had been feuding with the local policeman for years. ‘You know, Jean, who they’d get to lead the search, don’t you?’
‘Yeah. You and Mick. I know. Righto then, let’s keep this to ourselves.’ She pushed back her chair. ‘Give Tom to me, Irene. You’d better get to bed.’
Irene stomped across the room and dumped the little boy on her mother’s lap. She could feel tears getting ready to burst out of her eyes. It was so unfair. Why was she always left out? ‘I don’t see why I can’t go. Biddy’s my best friend. Joe is my cousin. I should be—’
‘Hey, fiery one.’ Her mother caught her hand. ‘I think you should go. That’s why I want you in bed now. Because you’ll be getting up so early tomorrow. You’ve got a cousin and a friend to find.’
‘Do you think I should take these?’ Joe dangled a pair of rabbit traps in front of Biddy’s nose. She could see little bits of fur on the rusty teeth. ‘Ugh! Take them away.’ She was helping Joe pack his things. If they left soon, she figured, they could get to the beach before lunch and her parents would be there with the ute. She knew they would be.
Biddy stood back from Joe’s campfire and looked at his possessions spread out on the grass. It wasn’t much to have collected in a lifetime. ‘I reckon you should take all your stuff, as much as we can carry.’
‘I don’t know.’ Joe screwed up his face. He looked across at the mountains. ‘I wish you could have seen our valley.’
‘Maybe I will. Maybe we’ll go there one day and have a memorial service for your mum.’
‘A what?’
>
‘A memorial. A special ceremony to talk about her life, and put up a cross saying who she was and where she lived.’
‘I don’t think Joycie would like that.’ Joe tossed the traps back into the hut.
Devil had been pacing up and down since dawn. ‘He knows I’m going,’ Joe told Biddy. ‘He’s that smart. He knows everything.’ Suddenly the dingo looked to the end of the valley and whined. ‘What is it, boy?’ Devil bolted towards the bush and then doubled back. His eyes were boring into Joe, drinking him in. ‘What’s wrong, Devil?’ Joe fondled his ears, trying to calm him. ‘I’ve never seen him like this, Biddy.’
‘I reckon my mum and dad are coming, and he can hear them.’
Joe hugged Devil tight. ‘I think he’s saying goodbye. He knows he’s got to go.’ Devil broke away from Joe’s grip and raced across the valley. He stopped at the edge of the bush and looked back at them for a few seconds. Then he tilted his head slightly, just a dip really, as if he was signing off, and melted into the scrub. Joe’s voice was like the wind in the grass: ‘Bye, Devil,’ he whispered.
Biddy didn’t know what to say. Joe slumped on the log, staring into the coals of their breakfast fire. Her head was spinning with the stories Joe had told her last night, and she sat staring too. Her mind kept racing ahead, trying to imagine what it was going to be like for Joe. He’d live with Irene and her family— he’d feel so crowded—he’d have to go to school—it would be so noisy—he’d have to fit in with people—he’d hate having to wait. It went on and on. There were so many things he didn’t know about.
Bella came and stood between the two of them, both staring, lost in their thoughts.
And that’s what Irene saw when she stepped into the valley: her cousin and her friend, like bookends, with the white pony between them.
The Quicksand Pony Page 8