The Road to Gundagai (26 page)

‘Couldn’t make it red?’ asked Fred.

Mrs Olsen shook her head. ‘Need beetroot to make a red dye. Don’t think we can get enough of it. Green don’t dye well either. Might end up with a mud colour. But there’s some gold cord in the trunk. That’ll brighten it up.’

Blue watched her flip out the squished flies to cool. Suddenly she realised that Mrs Olsen was even more the heart of the circus than Gertrude. She teaches us the tricks with greasepaint and rouge, she thought. She makes and mends the costumes; she feeds us. She loves us … doesn’t she? Surely that’s why she stays here, in this small circus.

The breeze blew a faint whiff of desolation. Mrs Olsen’s loss would be a hole in the heart of their lives. No more Ginger either, she thought, the ruffian hunchback of the Freak Show, the small boy triumphant when his traps had caught a dozen rabbits. She’d even miss Gertrude …

No, they couldn’t leave. They were family!

She forced her mind away. ‘Tell us a story, Madame.’

Madame smiled with satisfaction. ‘You want one of Madame’s stories, eh? A ghost story?’

That breeze had been too chilly for ghost stories. ‘No. A true story.’

‘Ah, what shall I tell you? About the flood on the Burdekin perhaps. I was ten years old. The sun so hot the iron tyres melted as we rolled across the plain. We had iron tyres back then, on wooden wheels, not soft like the rubber tyres now. We had to wire the tyres back on the wheels till we came to a town with a blacksmith, to weld them on again. And then it rained. Oh, how it rained. Like the angels tipped buckets from the sky. We had joined up with an American circus, the Pioneer, big wagons with low wheels. Those wheels sank into the mud and would not move. He went broke, that American, but we went on, leading the horses through the water. Sometimes the way was so deep the horses swam, and the caravans almost vanished under the water. We children had to sit up on the caravan roof and bang every saucepan in the camp …’

‘Why?’ asked Ginger.

Madame’s voice lowered dramatically. ‘To scare the crocodiles! There were snakes too,’ she added, ‘but they did not bother us. Big fat snakes. Auntie Elsie caught one and chopped it up, and fried big chunks. Some of the men would not eat snake meat, but we children gobbled it up. My brother made a necklace of the bones. And then the water went down and there were the fish, flapping about. Bull Charlie the contortionist showed us how to kill them with a nullah nullah, like the blackfellows use. And then —’ She stopped to listen …

‘An automobile’s coming down the road,’ said Ginger, peering into the darkness with interest.

Blue turned as the rumble of an engine grew closer. Not one, but two automobiles, their headlights tunnelling through the dark. No, she thought, one car and a motor wagon.

It must be nearly midnight, she thought. No one travels at this time of night, unless someone is ill. Even as she thought it the two vehicles pulled up at the railway station.

‘Train must be due,’ said Ephraim. ‘Pass us the bread if you’ve left us any, Ginger. Expecting passengers maybe.’

‘No.’ Fred’s voice was sharp. ‘They’re police. That’s the paddy wagon.’

‘If they are coming here,’ said Madame with dignity, ‘I shall inform them that we leave tomorrow, as promised.’

The dim figures in blue uniforms got out of the automobile. Blue froze, as she always did when she saw police. But of course they wouldn’t be looking for her. She’d been gone too long and, anyway, it didn’t need a paddy wagon and six policemen to bring in a runaway girl.

She glanced at Fred. He ran a hand over his blond hair as though reassuring himself his disguise was in place. He’d grown a beard in the last few months. The bearded lady was truly bearded now. Of course he bleached it blond too.

But Fred’s crime was about ten years ago, she thought. She looked at the others. Every person was utterly still, focused on the police across the road, except for Gertrude, who was cleaning her fingernails with a stick, and Ginger, who was unconcernedly slathering a vast hunk of bread with golden syrup. Now he too looked up. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ said his mother, as the police vanished into the railway station’s waiting room. Mrs Olsen took Ebenezer’s empty plate. ‘Everybody finished? Gertrude, it’s your turn to wash up. Ginger, bed time, and don’t forget to wash behind your ears.’

‘Can’t I stay and watch the train come in?’

‘Might not even be one,’ said Ephraim. ‘Maybe the police just want a word with the stationmaster.’

‘Then why are the platform lights on if there’s no train due?’ argued Ginger. ‘I can hear a train anyway.’

‘No, you can’t. There’s nothing to hear.’

‘I can so too. And Sheba. Look.’

The big animal’s head was turned into the darkness, her massive ears flapped back. She raised her trunk and gave a small cry.

Now Blue could hear the rumble too, more a vibration than the noise of an engine. Tiny twin moons appeared across the plain, coming closer and closer. The beat of the train engine grew. The sharp whistle as it approached the station pierced the darkness.

‘Goods train,’ said Ebenezer.

‘How do you know?’ asked Blue.

‘No lighted windows,’ he said crisply. ‘All right, you young ’uns. Hop it. Ginger, Gertrude, Mah, Belle, into the caravans with you. No need to wash tonight.’

‘What’s the hurry?’ demanded Gertrude.

The train halted at the station. Ebenezer had been right. Blue could see more than a dozen carriages, covered in tarpaulins. Almost at once shadows emerged onto the empty platform. Why were the police there, wondered Blue, if this wasn’t a passenger train?

Ebenezer tried to push Ginger towards the Olsens’ caravan. The boy twisted away, staring at the station.

A door slammed. Someone yelled. Suddenly there were more shadows, hauled out from under the tarpaulins. Men, thought Blue, bagmen, unemployed, hiding in the train. Maybe they’d hoped there were jobs at the factory here, or just had to reach another town to get their rations tomorrow.

A scream ripped through the night, and then the sound of blows. One of the shadows turned into a puddle on the platform, a policeman kicking him while another rained blows with what looked to be a length of wood.

‘Dear Lord in Heaven,’ breathed Mrs Olsen. ‘They’re attacking them with four-by-twos.’

Blue glanced at Ebenezer. He sat, his face carefully blank. He’d expected this, she realised. He’d guessed there’d be men hiding on the goods train, that the police would be waiting for them, not just with handcuffs, but with blows.

Fred surged to his feet. ‘We got to help them.’

‘You will not.’ Madame’s voice was sharp. ‘We look after our own.’

‘They’re killing them!’ Another scream. Black shadows wrestled blue uniforms.

Blue struggled up too. ‘Why don’t the police just arrest them? Oh no! Sheba!’

The elephant was lumbering across the showground.

Madame stood, her hands out as though her fingers might see where her eyes could not. ‘Sheba!’ she cried.

‘Stay with Madame.’ Fred pushed Blue back onto a bale of hay. ‘You too,’ he added to Mah.

‘No,’ said Mah. She ran after Sheba. Ebenezer grabbed the lantern and followed them. Blue watched the light bob towards the station.

What was happening? Why was it happening?

She couldn’t wait here. She struggled to her feet again. Ginger glanced at Madame, then at the shadows in the darkness. He managed two steps towards them before Gertrude grabbed his shirt. She held his arm in her strong grip. ‘You’re staying here,’ she said. Mrs Olsen whimpered, her hands over her mouth.

‘Sheba,’ whispered Madame.

‘They’ll bring her back,’ said Blue breathlessly. ‘Just stay here, Madame.’

Blue shuffled into the darkness, her bare feet slipping on a blob of elephant dung, thistles pricking her ankles. If only she could run …

Sheba had reached the station platform now. Her trunk rose, then lashed down. One of the policemen yelled an order. Another slashed at Sheba’s head with his length of wood.

Sheba roared, in anger or in pain. She rose on her back legs, striking down. For a moment as Blue stumbled closer the bulk of the railway station hid everything from view. Blue hobbled through the waiting room, onto the platform.

But it was over as suddenly as it had begun. Sheba stood to one side, her trunk waving wildly in the shadows. Blue uniforms hustled sagging men past the circus people to the waiting paddy wagon. Slumped bodies were thrown inside. The doors slammed. Blue grabbed Ebenezer’s sleeve.

‘Sheba,’ she panted. ‘Is she all right?’

‘They hit her.’ Ebenezer seemed in shock. ‘They hit Sheba.’

‘That your elephant?’ The man had a sergeant’s stripes on his uniform, though he wasn’t the sergeant who had visited the circus when they arrived. He looked over at Blue. ‘You lad, you from the circus too?’

She nodded numbly.

‘Count your lucky stars we don’t take you lot in as well. You keep out o’ what don’t concern you. And get that creature tethered. It’s dangerous.’

She’s not, thought Blue. You are. ‘What have the men done?’ she asked quietly, watching out of the corner of her eye as Fred and Ephraim tried to calm Sheba, her head and trunk still waving back and forth.

‘Troublemakers. Unemployed Workers’ Union, from Sydney. And that’s all you need to know, lad. Now you take a message back to your circus from me. I want the lot of you gone by tomorrow morning.’

‘We’re going anyway. But it takes hours to pack up.’

‘By tomorrow afternoon then. And you keep your trap shut about tonight.’

She nodded.

The wagon roared off into the night. The sergeant slid into the passenger seat of the long black automobile. Its tyres spun the gravel for a moment, then it too was gone. Behind her the train whistle blew again. The engine grew loud once more,
chugga chugga chug
, as it moved on its tracks into the night, only its steam visible against the stars.

‘You all right, lad?’

Blue turned. The stationmaster, middle-aged, white-moustached, looked at her. He shook his head. ‘Didn’t know that was gunna happen. Never been any trouble at my station. Bagmen on every train, these days. Give ’em a cup o’ cocoa and a cheese sandwich, an’ off they go. Never any trouble …’ His voice died away. He looked back at Sheba, suddenly plodding into the darkness, away from both the station and the circus. ‘You better catch your elephant afore it runs away.’

‘Sheba!’ Blue tried to hurry into the darkness. The elephant must have become disoriented, she thought. ‘Sheba, come back! The circus is back this way!’

Sheba didn’t look around. Blue could hear the plod of her great feet on the grass.

‘Sheba!’ Ebenezer gave his ringmaster’s bellow. Sheba ignored him.

‘Better grab her before she gets any further away,’ panted Fred. He had a cut over one eye.

Ephraim’s shadowed face looked anxious in the light of the platform. ‘Old girl could run into barbed wire out there. Get her foot stuck in a wombat hole.’

The men ran into the darkness, with Mah following. Blue shuffled after them, then found the stationmaster next to her, staring at her odd gait. She flushed. ‘Had an accident,’ she muttered. ‘Can’t run fast.’

The stationmaster nodded. ‘Got a bad ticker meself. Not that I can’t do the job,’ he added hurriedly.

Along the concrete platform, across the train lines — Blue pushed her feet to move as fast as possible. If only she could run. Had Sheba been hurt? Maybe she was running away in terror. But that plodding had looked purposeful, not panicked.

A grey elephant in a black night. Above them the stars wheeled and glowed. It was impossible to see Sheba now there was only Ebenezer’s lantern bobbing past trees and tussocks. And then the lantern stopped.

Sheba had stopped too. In the dim ring of light Blue could see a middle-aged man lying on the ground, unconscious, blood on the grey whiskers of his face. Fred and Ephraim kneeled by him as Mah watched and Ebenezer held the lantern. Sheba raised her trunk as though protecting the stranger, gazing into the night.

‘Oh, my giddy aunt …’ whispered the stationmaster.

‘Is he still alive?’ whispered Blue.

Fred nodded. ‘He needs a doctor. Come on. Let’s get him back to the circus.’

‘No!’ Ebenezer stared at them all. ‘Can’t take a stranger back.’

‘But he’s hurt,’ said Blue.

‘No.’ The ringmaster looked strangely stubborn.

To her surprise Fred nodded. ‘Ebenezer’s right. Can’t take him back to the circus.’ He looked at the stationmaster. ‘Anyhow, he needs a hospital. Is there one in town?’

‘Nearest one’s at Willawar.’ The stationmaster hesitated. ‘There’s a phone at the station. If you can carry him to the waiting room, I’ll call a doctor.’

Ebenezer nodded, relief plain on his face. Blue gazed at him, then at Fred and Ephraim. They had rescued her. Why wouldn’t they take in a stranger now? Was it because she was a girl?

No. Something else was happening here. She stepped over to Sheba and patted her trunk soothingly. ‘Sheba led us to him. She tried to save his friends. She won’t want us to abandon him in the waiting room. Madame will know how to help him till the doctor gets here, and Mrs Olsen too.’

‘She’s right,’ said Mah hotly. ‘He needs proper care.’

‘What if the police come looking for him?’ asked Ebenezer. ‘Hard to disguise him, hurt like that.’ He met her eyes, the words unspoken: you know why we don’t want police looking at us too closely.

‘Fred’s a magician,’ said Blue shortly. ‘If he can hide a girl in a pillar, he can hide a bloke. And, anyway,’ she added, ‘the police probably don’t even know he was on the train too.’

‘All right. You hop up on Sheba,’ said Ebenezer abruptly. ‘I’ll give you a hand.’

‘I can walk back,’ said Blue.

‘If you’re on Sheba’s back, she’s more likely to go back of her own accord. Can’t look after this bloke and control her.’

Blue nodded. She let Ebenezer heave her up, then scrambled into her usual side-saddle position balancing on Sheba’s neck, behind her big flapping ears.

The elephant trembled beneath her. A thin trail of blood trickled down past one eye. ‘She’s bleeding,’ said Blue sharply.