As they pushed through the twisty branches and dense green undergrowth, Hannah thought she saw something sparkling ahead. She pushed further, and then let out a little cry of dismay.
They stood on the banks of a river. The previous night’s rain had swollen it beyond its banks, and it was seeping into the grass on either bank. It was far too wide and deep to wade across.
Hannah sank onto the ground with a sigh. ‘We’ll have to follow it,’ she said dismally. ‘Until we can find a shallower place to cross.’
Molly coughed, and Hannah looked at her sharply. ‘Don’t you go catching a cold. I have enough to worry about.’
Molly stifled her cough. ‘Just swallowed a fly,’ she said.
Hannah raised her eyebrows. ‘We may as well eat something, while we’re here,’ she said, pulling out the bread and cheese.
As they ate their meal, they watched the debris being carried down the river – logs, branches, the occasional floating corpse of a creature too unfortunate to escape the storm.
‘Ho, there!’ said a voice, making both Hannah and Molly jump.
A man sat in a small wooden boat in the middle of the river. He was working his oars back and forth furiously to keep himself stationary.
‘Can I be offerin’ any assistance, my ladies?’ he asked, a mocking tone in his voice. He was a wiry, pointy-looking man with a hooked nose and grey stubble on his chin. His skin was sallow, his eyes squinting.
Hannah scrambled to her feet. ‘Do you think you could row us across this river?’ she asked.
The man looked at her. ‘And why would two such pretty little misses want to cross the ole Nepean River?’ he asked. ‘There ain’t nothin’ on the other side but trees and savages.’
‘My – my husband is working on the road through the mountains,’ improvised Hannah. ‘We’re going to him.’
The man laughed. ‘Oh, aye,’ he said. ‘Your husband. Then how could I refuse?’
Hannah started towards the riverbank eagerly.
‘Wait,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to make it worth my while.’
‘Of course,’ said Hannah. ‘I can pay you. How much?’
The man considered it. ‘A shilling,’ he said.
‘A shilling?’ said Hannah incredulously.
The man grinned. ‘How bad do you want to see your … husband?’
Hannah sighed. ‘Fine. A shilling.’
He rowed his boat to the riverbank, his arms straining to keep the boat steady in the fast current. Hannah handed over her shilling, then she and Molly clambered into the boat, which rocked alarmingly and sunk low into the water under their weight. Hannah sat down on the wooden plank that acted as a seat, while Molly crouched in the stern. The man pushed off the bank with an oar.
Halfway across, the man bent forward and strained against the oars. The boat came to a stop. The water rushed around them. He looked at Hannah expectantly.
‘What?’ she asked him. His beady eyes were roaming all over her body.
‘I’m waiting for my payment, little miss.’
‘I already paid you,’ said Hannah, unsettled. ‘A shilling.’
The man scratched his head. ‘Well now, little miss. I can’t say as I remember that.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Hannah, looking to the shore and wondering if they would be able to swim.
‘You didn’t give me no shilling, little miss. I needs my payment.’ He grinned, revealing four rotten teeth, sprouting in otherwise bare, yellowing gums.
Molly whimpered. Hannah sighed, and reached for her purse. ‘How much do you want?’
‘How much do you got?’
‘You’re not having it all! That’s robbery!’
The man shrugged. ‘Maybe it is. I’m not a bad man. I’ll make you a deal. Either you give me what’s in there,’ he nodded towards her purse. ‘Or you give me what’s under there.’ He tweaked her skirt.
Hannah went cold. ‘Take us to the shore,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘I’ll give you all our money when we’re there.’
The man winked at her and dipped his oar in the water. Once they had reached solid ground, Hannah handed over the purse, and the man put his fingers to his forehead in a lazy salute and pushed the boat back onto the river.
‘Give my regards to yer husband, missy.’
thirty
On the other side of the lake, Scatterheart found herself in a great wilderness. She saw sights of great beauty, and once or twice came perilously close to death. But on she walked.
***
The foothills rose before them. Looking south, down the Nepean, Hannah could just make out some kind of excavation, and some temporary-looking buildings.
‘That must be where they’re building the road,’ she said.
Molly nodded. ‘Maybe they’ve seen Mr Bear,’ she said.
Hannah considered it. If they went downriver to the road, they might learn more about where Thomas was hiding. However they also might get turned in to the authorities and sent back to Parramatta. But who knew how far the mountains went on? She had no map, there was no path. She didn’t even know where to start looking. She might never find him.
‘Right then,’ she said. ‘We’ll go down to the road. But we have to be careful no one sees us, until we’re sure we can trust them.’
‘Right,’ said Molly. ‘I ain’t goin’ back to bein’ a orphing.’
They kept to the undergrowth, staying away from clearings and the exposed riverbank. The forest was thin here, the soil was dry, and trees found little purchase on the steep hillside. The ground was covered by a thick, rough grass that scratched at Hannah’s ankles.
After only a few minutes, they were both out of breath. They paused to sip at the water bottle. Hannah drew a deep breath, her chest already sore and aching. Molly was coughing again. Hannah smiled brightly.
‘Shall we have a story?’ she said.
Molly nodded.
‘Well then,’ said Hannah, as she pushed through some low branches. ‘This is a story about another great forest. A forest full of tangles and thorns, with a sleeping princess at its heart…’
They walked and walked, until Hannah had run out of breath to tell the story with. By late afternoon, they reached a weatherboard shack, with no windows and large hinged double doors securely bolted shut. A somewhat faded sign was stencilled onto the doors:
Blue Mountains Western Road
Storage
Molly looked at Hannah. ‘No one’s around,’ she said.
‘I suppose they’re up in the mountains, working on the road,’ said Hannah.
‘Want me to break open that lock?’ Molly’s eye gleamed.
Hannah shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’ll just be shovels and rope and things in there. We don’t need any of that.’
Molly looked disappointed.
The road seemed deserted, just a churned dirt and rubble strip that carved through the scrub and curved up the slope of the foothills. It was about twelve feet wide, with trees and bushes cleared a further four feet on either side. Another sign was painted on wooden boards, and banged into the ground.
Blue Mountains Western Road
Tresspassing FORBIDDEN
Persons not carrying a pass signed by the Governor will be harshly prosecuted.
Hannah listened for the sound of voices, but heard nothing other than the faint gurgling of the river behind them.
She looked at Molly and shrugged. ‘I suppose it can’t hurt to walk on the road,’ she said. ‘It’ll be much easier than pushing through the forest. We’ll just have to be careful we don’t run into anyone.’
Hannah glanced up at the sky. The sun had disappeared behind the looming bulk of the mountains, but she guessed there was still a few hours before it got dark. They started to trudge up the slope.
It wasn’t much of a road. It was wide, and cleared of vegetation, but there were large stones and branches littered across it, making for stubbed toes and twisted ankles.
; When they reached the summit of the first foothill, they turned to see how far they had come. The mountains cast long shadows over the flat golden fields of Emu Plains. The river was a dark brown ribbon that snaked across the land from the north to the south, fringed with green. Hannah could see the lump of Prospect Hill, and the cluster of yellow buildings that was Parramatta. She wondered if James had returned yet, and noticed her gone. Further east, she could just make out Sydney Town, and beyond it, the blue sparkle of the ocean.
They sheltered that night just off the road, under a tall, straight-trunked tree, with rough, scratchy bark like cracked clay. It was cold, but they huddled close together under their blanket.
The next day, they continued along the road through the foothills. The trees on either side of them grew taller and broader, and the undergrowth grew thicker and greener, into a rough snarl of shrubs and creepers that bordered the road like a solid wall. The sharp, tangy smell of the forest grew stronger as they trudged over hills and down valleys.
Hannah went through every story Thomas had ever told her – the cat who wore boots, the girl who wore a donkey’s skin, Bluebeard and his seven dead wives.
Molly listened attentively, but she spoke little. Her face was pale, and she often lagged behind Hannah.
On the third day, Hannah finished the story of Cendrillon and her glass slipper, and thought of Thomas. She pictured him sitting by a fire, maybe whittling something from a stick. He would hear them approach, and grip his knife more firmly, rising to a crouch. Hannah would appear from the undergrowth, and the knife would fall to the ground.
She was so caught up in her daydream that she didn’t hear the sound of a human whistle, or make out the regular tramp of footsteps. When the man came around a bend in the road, he stopped short and stared at them.
Hannah threw a desperate glance to either side, wondering if they could run and hide, but this part of the road seemed unusually wide and bare. Molly edged behind Hannah, making a quiet frightened noise.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered. He had a scraggly beard and a cracked, sunburned face. His clothes looked reasonably new and sturdy, but were caked with dirt. He carried a sack on his shoulder. He raised his eyebrows, and Hannah thought that the sight of a short-haired girl in an expensive dress, and a half-faced child must be very odd indeed.
‘I don’t suppose it’s worth asking if you has a pass,’ he said. His voice didn’t have the broad twang that the currency lads and lasses had – he sounded like an English farmer.
Hannah bit her lip and shook her head. She wondered if he would try and arrest them, and if they could fight him off. He looked awfully strong.
‘Convicts?’ said the man.
‘Yes,’ said Hannah.
He nodded. ‘Me too, at least for now. They tells us if we works hard on this road we’ll get our freedom.’
He didn’t look like he was going to arrest them.
‘Why are you coming back?’ asked Hannah.
The man made a rueful face and held up his hand. It was roughly bandaged with a strip of linen.
‘Got me a mean splinter,’ he said. ‘Infected. I got to go back and get fixed up. But I should be back in a day or two. I’m Will. Will Appledore.’
Hannah smiled. ‘I’m Hannah. This is Molly.’
Molly shrank further behind Hannah.
‘So, Hannah,’ he said, his eyes twinkling, ‘where are you running away from?’
Molly stepped forward. ‘We’re looking for someone,’ she said.
He looked at Molly, and a flash of pity crossed his face when he saw her missing eye. Hannah decided they could trust him.
‘We’re looking for a … a friend,’ she said. ‘Thomas Behr.’
Appledore shrugged. ‘He ain’t working on the road,’ he said. ‘I knows everyone in the gang.’
‘He’s not working on the road,’ said Hannah. ‘He’s hiding. In the mountains.’
Appledore stared at her silently for a moment. ‘There be a few people hiding in these mountains,’ he said.
‘He was an officer,’ said Hannah. ‘He ran away.’
‘Could be anywhere,’ said Appledore, shaking his head. ‘Could be dead.’
‘He’s not dead,’ said Hannah. ‘I’m sure of it. Can’t you tell us anything?’
‘Sorry, miss,’ he said. ‘I’d help you if I could. But I got a family, and Superintendent Cox says if we works well on the road, we’ll get our freedom, and some land into the bargain. It’s not worth my while to be breaking the law, helping a fugitive.’
‘So you do know something,’ said Hannah. ‘You must.’
Appledore hesitated, then shook his head. ‘Sorry,’ he said.
Hannah inwardly cursed the river-man who had taken all her money.
‘I – I don’t have any more money. I don’t have anything I can give you.’
As she said this, she knew it wasn’t true. The man with the boat had given her two options for payment. She gulped, and felt sick inside. But she’d already come so far.
‘I could…’ she stammered, blushing and looking away.
Appledore raised his eyebrows. ‘I got a daughter your age,’ he said, and sighed. ‘This place turns the very best of men and women into thieves and whores.’
Hannah felt a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. How would she find him now?
‘Look,’ said Appledore. ‘I hasn’t seen you, if anyone asks. And you hasn’t seen me. We saw someone, when we were working on the road. I don’t know if it’s who you’re looking for, but I know where you can find him.’
Hannah felt the spark of hope again.
‘If you walk along this road for about three days,’ said Appledore, ‘you’ll reach a place called Weatherboard. You’ll know it, because there is a weatherboard storage hut, like the one back at the river. There’s a rough track that leads from the hut to the river, about a mile away. We used to go swimming there. Follow the river downstream until you reach the waterfall, and wait until it gets dark. Then stand on the cliff and look out over the valley. That’s how you’ll find him.’
Molly darted forward and grabbed Appledore’s hand. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
He blushed. ‘Remember,’ he said. ‘I hasn’t seen you, and you hasn’t seen me.’
Gradually, the foothills turned into mountains. The terrain grew rocky and tangled, coarse and spiky on the ridges, and green and moist in the valleys. Stone culverts had been constructed over chattering little streams, but the road often became boggy, and Hannah’s skirt was soon caked with thick brown mud. The water in the streams was stained brownish-yellow, like tea. It was ice-cold, and tasted like rich earth and sharp, tangy eucalypts. Hannah thought it was delicious.
She measured out their food carefully, keeping an eye out for a tree that bore fruit – apples or pears or something. There were no familiar trees – not that she would know an apple tree if she saw one, unless it was bearing fruit. There were no berries or nuts, and the mushrooms looked so strange and wild, and came in such strange colours, that Hannah was afraid to even touch them.
On the morning of the fourth day, Hannah began to look eagerly for the weatherboard hut. It was a beautiful day. The sun was bright and hot – there was not a cloud to be seen.
‘What did Will Appledore mean about finding Mr Bear at the waterfall, Hannah?’ asked Molly.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Hannah. ‘It might not be him at all.’
‘It is,’ said Molly. ‘I’m sure.’
The walked on for a while in silence, before Molly turned to Hannah again.
‘How will we be able to see him at night, when it’s dark?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘Maybe he comes to the waterfall to get fresh water,’ she said.
Molly looked up at the blue sky above them. ‘Maybe the stars will show us the way,’ she said dreamily.
Hannah smiled, but worry was beginning to eat at her. They had been walking for four days – why hadn’t they reached the hut? Had they passed
it and not noticed? Had the workers come back and dismantled it? Had Will Appledore lied to them? What if it wasn’t Thomas at all?
When they finally clambered to the top of a crest, late that afternoon, Hannah could have cried with happiness. It was there. Nestled in the foliage by the side of the road, stood a simple, square wooden hut. Molly clapped her hands and danced about with happiness.
‘We’re coming, Mr Bear!’ she yelled.
‘Hush,’ said Hannah. There might be more workers nearby.’
Molly hushed. Hannah walked around the hut, praying to find the track to the waterfall and not a soldier lying in wait for them. But there it was, a rough beaten track through the undergrowth. Hannah was surprised. Was it really this easy?
‘Come on,’ she said to Molly. ‘We can make it to the waterfall before it gets dark.’
They pushed their way along the track. It looked like it had been unused for several months, and vines and spiky grass pulled and scratched at them.
They could hear the waterfall long before they saw it – a dull roaring sound which reminded Hannah of being on the Derby Ram during the storm where she had pushed Dr Ullathorne overboard.
Hannah walked on, her lungs burning. The air seemed very thin, and she struggled to draw a breath. She heard Molly singing to herself up ahead.
She tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Sweat poured from her brow, her heart pounded in her throat and her breath came in short, painful rasps.
Would they really find Thomas at the waterfall? She imagined him crouching over a fast-flowing river, collecting water, or washing a shirt. He would look up when he saw her, and his face would be stunned. Then he would smile, and come running over and catch her up in his arms…
Up ahead, Molly stopped singing abruptly. Hannah couldn’t see her.
‘Molly?’ she called. There was no answer. Hannah scrambled up the slope and broke through the last of the tangle of branches.
Molly was standing on the edge of a rocky precipice. A river, thick and furious, rushed to the edge of the sandy rock and was hurled over the edge, sending up a great sheet of white spray. Beyond the waterfall were mountains. Mountains after mountains after mountains. Stretching out before them, above them, around them. Mountains wreathed in dull bluish-green, with the occasional rough wall or pinnacle of yellow rock.
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