Ash Road (12 page)

He eased the pack to the ground and collapsed beside it, panting. Part of him wanted to cry, but something told him that he had to cling to what shreds remained of his self-respect. He unlaced his shoes and gradually, painfully, withdrew his feet from them. His feet were swollen and blistered and the skin was broken in several places. They were awfully dirty. They were awful to look at, and he stretched them out in front of him and stared at them. He wanted to look somewhere else, but couldn't. Oh, his feet. His poor feet. How had he walked on them? And run on them?

He knew he should dress them, should wash them in the creek, should do something to them, but he was too tired to do anything but sit and unwind, and wonder. He knew he was going to sleep and there was nothing he could do to prevent it; he drifted off, half-sitting, half-lying against his pack.

Although Peter wasn't far away, he had lost sight of Graham. He knew Graham was in the gully somewhere, but exactly where he could not determine. It was the gully at the bottom of the Georges' place, very dense in parts, though farther along the fire brigade had burnt through it in the spring. He realized that he had missed his quarry somehow, had either gone past him or been eluded by him. It was an uncomfortable feeling, for there was always the possibility that now it was he who was being followed. He scuttled for open ground, for the edge of the huge carrot paddock where the sprinklers were turning, and stood there, disconsolate and undecided.

He didn't really know what he was up to, couldn't convince himself that he had followed Graham for any real purpose at all. He was trying to tell himself that it had been the brave and manly thing to do, but what was brave and manly about it? What was it supposed to achieve? How could it impress Pippa when she didn't know about it? Perhaps he had done it because of Stevie's taunt, or because of the stone that Stevie had tossed so close to where he had been hiding. He had only wanted to prove himself, but all he had done was deepen his misery. It was terrible being so weak and useless. It was awful being the kid who had to go home. And the wind was frightening him. It just never stopped. It was an unceasing blast. And smoke was up there now, clearly present in the sky. He hadn't noticed it before.

Stevie dropped back, drawing great breaths, still sobbing from the rage that had not entirely left him, feeling in its place the advance of a growing weakness. He looked a very little boy, almost too exhausted to stand, afraid that something dreadful was going to happen to him, that he was about to be beaten with a stick or a hard hand. From head to toe he drooped, and Pippa rushed to him, and thrust an arm protectively round his shoulders. She felt for him as she had never felt before, a warm and admiring love, and she clutched him to her side and said to him, ‘Good boy, Stevie. Good boy, Stevie,' and she glared at Wallace leaning sheepishly against the wall of the house and at Harry, still on the ground, flexing his injured leg and vigorously rubbing it. ‘Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?' she said to them.

‘Yeh,' said Wallace, who was in the humour to agree with anything and everything.

Harry raised himself to his feet, wincing. ‘Crumbs,' he said. ‘That hurt.'

Words, then, became useless; they stood in an embarrassed silence, not knowing how to break it. Blackie, the missing dog, came into the picture belatedly, with his tail between his legs. He must have heard Lorna from a great distance, for he was distressed and panting and muddy. Perhaps he had been in the creek or chasing rabbits in the carrots where the sprinklers were turning. Lorna, still on the defensive or the attack—she was not sure which—hooked her fingers through his collar.

It was Harry who finally broke the silence, awkwardly and self-consciously. He knew it was time to speak, for the awful tension had gone, and he didn't want people to be thinking unkindly of him any longer. ‘I'm so sorry about this,' he said hesitantly, ‘but we're not criminals or anything. Honest we're not. We've had an awful night. I just don't know what came over us...'

He looked to Wallace for support, but he should have known better. Expressing the finer points was not Wallace's strength. All he could say was ‘Yeh.'

‘We're on holidays,' Harry went on. ‘We go to Osborne High School in town. We're friends of Jerry Pinkard's. I'm Harry McAuley and he's Wallace Martin. I—I was captain of Form 3A this year...Please don't be frightened of us. We're not thugs or anything.'

‘We're not frightened of you,' said Lorna.

‘Wallace is a good chap, you know, a real good sport. He's in all the teams and everything. He's a real star. I'll bet he's just as sorry as I am.'

‘Yeh,' said Wallace.

‘But we
are
in trouble, real trouble. We did an awfully silly thing. Don't ask us what, please.' Harry couldn't find the words he wanted. Nothing sounded right. ‘We do want to help you, honest we do, but please don't tell anyone we're here. We'll probably get sent to prison or something. We didn't mean it to happen. It was all an accident...It's spoilt our holiday and everything...'

‘I'm sorry,' said Lorna. ‘But you couldn't have done anything that bad, surely?'

‘It's terrible. It's awful...' And suddenly it was out. ‘We—we—started the fire!'

‘You
didn
'
t
,' cried Pippa.

‘We didn't mean it to happen. It was an accident. It was so quick. We tried so hard to get it out...We nearly got trapped...We panicked...'

‘You lit the fire,' cried Lorna. ‘
You
lit it!'

‘He didn't neither,' yelled Wallace. ‘He didn't do any such thing. It was my fault, and Graham's. It didn't have anythin' to do with Harry. Harry was asleep.'

Harry hadn't meant to say it. He couldn't believe it had come out of his own mouth. And yet saying it somehow made him feel better. It was like a bad headache suddenly going away—until he looked at Stevie. Stevie was squinting at him with a twisted face. Harry had forgotten the little chap. Perhaps the two older ones would keep the secret, but how could he expect it of Stevie? Harry was suddenly confused again, wishing with all his heart that he could call back what had been said, that he could erase it from his own memory and from the memory of others. He felt cornered, lost. ‘Look,' he said. ‘Your dad. We'll carry your dad for you. We'll take him wherever you say. Anywhere. And if anyone wants to know who we are, just tell them we're stopping with the Pinkards.' He looked at Stevie. ‘You, too. Don't tell. Please don't tell anyone.'

‘Don't tell 'em what?' Stevie was still squinting at Harry. What had been said was just a flood of words to him. He didn't know what fire they were talking about. The only fire he knew of was on the other side of the mountains; and how could they possibly have lit that if they were with the Pinkards?

‘The fire,' Harry explained anxiously. ‘Don't tell them we lit it.'

‘What fire?' exclaimed Stevie.

Pippa squeezed him suddenly to her. ‘You must have hit him too hard with that stone, Stevie. He's all mixed up, isn't he?'

‘I'll say,' said Stevie. ‘He's real silly. I reckon he ought to go and sleep it off. He's stark, ravin' bonkers. And what's he talkin' about Dad for? Dad doesn't need carryin'. He'd have to run awful hard to catch him now.'

‘Not our dad,' explained Pippa. ‘Lorna's dad.'

‘Oh,' said Stevie. ‘Well, that's different. 'Cos Dad's gone. He couldn't very well carry
him.
What's Lorna's dad want carryin' for?'

‘He's sick, Stevie...But where's our dad gone?'

‘With all the fellas. Mr Robertson came in his truck and picked Dad up and away they went. It was full of fellas.'

‘But
where
, Stevie? Where have they gone?'

‘To the big fire near Miltondale, of course. It was on the wireless and everything. You know.'

‘But I don't, Stevie. I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘Gee. You don't know much, do you?'

‘It's right, Pippa,' said Lorna. ‘That's why I couldn't get an ambulance. They said they were evacuating Miltondale.'

‘
Evacuating?
' cried Harry. ‘But Miltondale's miles from the fire. The fire's at Tinley.'

‘That's the one,' said Stevie.

‘Miltondale?' said Wallace incredulously. ‘It can't be the same fire.'

‘It is, you know,' declared Stevie. ‘It's at Miltondale and Campbell Heights and Hughes and Mount Stewart. It's gone right along the mountain.'

‘It couldn't have,' wailed Wallace.

‘All the people are leavin' the townships.' Stevie began to feel very important. ‘Hundreds of policemen directing the traffic and everything.'

‘Oh, Stevie,' said Pippa, recalling with a sense of guilt and discomfort her row with Peter. ‘You couldn't have heard right.'

‘I did. Mum's gone, too. Old miseries they are. Wouldn't take
me.
'

‘Mum! What do you mean, Mum's gone?'

‘All the ladies have gone. Mum took the car with Mrs Fairhall and Mrs Robertson and they were going to call for others on the way. They're all goin'.'

‘What on earth for?'

‘To look after the people of course.'

‘
What
people?'

‘All the people that are comin' down from the mountains. They've got them in the public hall and the church halls and at the football ground. All the kids and all the ladies. They've gone in to make breakfast for them and everything.'

‘This is the silliest thing I've ever heard of. You don't know what you're saying.'

‘I do, you know,' said Stevie haughtily. ‘I've been lookin' all over for you, to tell you. Mum sent me to tell you to come home because you haven't had any breakfast and to pack up the things you want to take in case we have to evacuate as well, and to stuff some rags in the downpipes and fill up all the spouts with water. Lots of things she wants you to do. You'd better come, too. She was awful cross 'cos you didn't come home with Julie. Grandpa Tanner had to bring her home and Grandpa said you were performin' like a primagonga. What were you performin' for, Pippa?'

‘Where's Julie now?' Pippa asked.

‘Gone back to Grandpa's again. Grandpa's lookin' after her. He's looking after Mrs Robertson's baby, too. What were you performin' for, Pippa?'

‘None of your business,' said Pippa sharply, and looked suddenly to Lorna. ‘What on earth are we going to do about your dad?'

There were times when Lorna was so sure of herself, so competent; but not now. ‘Everything seems to be against him, Pippa. It doesn't seem fair. We seem to be so cut off.'

‘Well, I'm not going to leave you. I don't care what Mum says.'

‘Mum says you've got to keep your ear open for the phone. Just in case she wants to get in touch with you.'

‘Be quiet, Stevie.'

‘'Cos if there's a wind-change or anythin' the fire might get good and mad and we might have to get out quick.'

‘Stevie,
do
be quiet.'

‘Cor,' said Stevie, ‘a minute ago I was a bloomin' hero.'

‘Look,' said Harry, ‘aren't you forgetting these Fairhall people? Or have they gone, too?'

‘Well?' said Pippa to Stevie.

Stevie sighed. ‘I told you Mrs Fairhall had gone with Mum and Mr Fairhall's tryin' to start his bloomin' old car so he can take Peter home.'

‘What's wrong with his car?'

‘It won't go!'

‘And Peter's with him, I suppose?'

‘I don't know. Not when I saw Mr Fairhall last. He was spittin' chips because Peter had gone away.' Stevie's thoughts turned back a few minutes. ‘Though I reckon I saw Peter on the road when I was comin' down the hill. But he ducked into the bush and wouldn't answer.'

‘It might have been Graham,' said Harry.

‘Yeh,' said Wallace. ‘What about Graham? Where is he? Shouldn't take him as long as this to shift a few packs.'

‘Look,' said Harry, ‘if Stevie saw Graham duck into the bush, that explains it. Graham'll be hiding. You know the way he feels about everything. Unless it
was
this Peter. I guess he was that other kid—the one that took off like a jack-rabbit.'

‘I didn't see this Graham fella,' said Stevie. ‘Not unless his legs are as skinny as Peter's.'

‘Graham's not skinny.'

‘It was Peter then.'

‘It doesn't matter about Graham or Peter,' cried Lorna. ‘What are we going to do about my dad? He's probably dying, and all we do is talk, talk, talk. We've got to do
something
!'

And they looked at one another again. In the hearts of them all, except Lorna, there was perhaps the thought that if they didn't dwell on the problem it would go away.

‘It's wicked,' said Lorna, ‘not doing anything.'

Harry shrugged helplessly. ‘Where do we start?'

Wallace said, ‘Does that old car I saw in the shed go? If it does I might be able to drive it.'

‘Can you
drive?
' asked Lorna.

‘Yeh,' said Wallace, surprised by her vehemence.

‘Well why didn't you say so?'

‘You didn't ask, did you? And I thought the car wasn't any good or you would have mentioned it. It'd be the first thing anyone would think of.'

‘Easy does it,' Harry said. ‘You can't drive.'

‘I can try, can't I? All we've got to do is get it movin' and keep it movin'. If my mother can drive I reckon I can. And I've watched Dad. I've sneaked a drive here and there. I'll get him to hospital all right. All I need is someone to show me the way.'

‘I'll do that,' cried Stevie, and excitedly led the rush.