The Quicksand Pony (10 page)

Biddy sat and waited for her father. She dreaded telling him what a mess she'd made. She wished she could fix things up. Maybe she could. Maybe the horses hadn't gone all the way to the beach. Blue was such a pig, Biddy was sure he'd stop to graze if he came across some good grass.

She started imagining what would happen . . . She'd walk back to that little flat they passed on the way in, and Blue and Gordon would be there. Gordon's bridle wouldn't be broken, and she'd catch them easily, and ride Blue back, and lead Gordon, and she'd be sitting there as though nothing had happened when Dad got back. She wouldn't even have to tell him what had gone wrong. Maybe she'd tell him when she was really old.

Her father's voice echoed in her head.
Wait here. Don't go anywhere.
Biddy ignored it. She'd easily get to the flat and back before he returned. She set off at a brisk walk, and immediately felt better to be moving. The further she walked, the fainter her father's voice became.

She got to the flat quicker than she expected, but there were no horses, just deep hoofprints where they had galloped through. It looked as though they'd been really flying, the mongrels. ‘I'll never forgive you for this, Blue, never,' Biddy growled to herself. ‘I'll never give you carrots again.'

She trudged despondently back along the track to wait for her father. Wrens were darting through the bush, but she didn't notice. Her eyes were down, staring at the hoofprints those stinking horses had left.

Hang on, why was that set of prints going
across
the track? Biddy stepped back, to get a better look, then realised that a horse had plunged off the side. The tea-tree made a thick screen on both sides of the track, and when Biddy looked closer she could see that the slope fell away steeply on one side. She could see, too, where a horse had skidded down through the bushes. She inspected the branches closely and, yes, there was a single white hair.

Bella! It had to be Bella! She jumped through the gap and slid down the sandy slope on her oilskin, like someone on a toboggan, whooping all the way. At the bottom she was sure. The soil was damp here, and she could see the tracks clearly: hoofprints, pawprints and footprints. She was going to find Bella!

Her father's instructions crossed her mind again, nagging at her conscience, but she pushed them aside. It wouldn't matter so much about losing the other horses if she found Bella. And Joe . . . She felt a bit nervous about Joe. What if he didn't want her to find him? What if he was nasty? What if he smelt awful? Would Joycie be mad? She shrugged her shoulders and kept following the tracks. She'd messed up everything so far—now she had to keep going and turn it into something good.

The tracks led into a forest of tangled tea-tree, along a tunnel that twisted like a worm. Biddy had to bend over to fit through, and her back was soon killing her. Now she knew how Grandpa felt, with his aches and pains. A lot of branches had been broken or pushed aside. Joe must have done that to get Bella through. Biddy could imagine her, biffing Joe with her nose as he worked.

She knew she'd have to turn back soon. She stopped to listen every now and then, in case her father was calling, but the wind had come up and was roaring through the tea-tree, drowning out everything else. I'll walk for a hundred more steps, she thought, and then I'll turn back. She took big ones, so she could go as far as possible within the bargain, and at eighty-nine she stepped out of the tunnel into the afternoon light.

The tracks crossed a shallow creek, fringed with ferns and reeds, then disappeared into a mass of swordgrass. Biddy crossed the creek, ninety-three, ninety-four—Suddenly she could see a path through the swordgrass. It was a real path. A path somebody had made. She forgot her bargain and hurried along.

The swordgrass waving high above blocked out the sun. All she could hear was the rustle of dry leaves under her feet. Biddy began to call as she walked along, softly at first, then working up to a shout: ‘Bella . . . Bellaa . . . Bellaaa.'

When she stopped to get her breath, she heard a whinny. It couldn't be. She called again. Yes! It was Bella answering her. She could hear hoofbeats, too. Bella was galloping towards her. And there was another noise as well: someone up ahead was calling a name over and over. Biddy couldn't work out what it was. Suddenly, in a flurry of hooves and flying mane, Bella flew around the corner and propped in front of her.

Biddy never knew you could cry so much with happiness. She pressed her face against Bella's velvety nose, rubbed her ears, and hugged her and hugged her. The voice kept calling from where Bella had come. It sounded so strange that Biddy suddenly felt scared, afraid to meet Joycie and Joe. I'll go back, she thought. I'll take Bella back to Dad and then we can all come here together. ‘Come on, Bella, let's go.'

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.