The Quicksand Pony (11 page)

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.

Biddy and Irene clattered down the steps of the school bus, their bags bumping behind them.

‘Bye, giggle pots. See you tomorrow for the last day of school!' The bus driver swung the bus around and headed back to town.

The girls started down the gravel track that led towards Biddy's house, picking their way carefully so that their heels always landed on the biggest possible stones. They called this game ‘High Heels', and they zig-zagged along putting on the voices posh ladies in high heels would use. ‘I say, Irene,' said Biddy as they passed the dam, ‘wouldn't you just love to catch some frogs?'

‘Oh yes, Biddy, indeed I would . . . Look! There's a huge one!' Irene immediately forgot her snobby voice. ‘Quick, Bid! Give me your lunch box!'

She plunged down the bank, then scrambled back up, legs dripping, and sat the lunch box in the middle of the track.

‘What a beauty!' Biddy peered at the huge green bullfrog, sprinkled with spots of gold. Irene crouched beside her.

‘Aren't his eyes beautiful? We better let him go . . . '

The blast of a car horn made the girls scream and leap off the track. Irene's dad was leaning out the window of his old truck, laughing.

‘You two are hopeless, I could have run you over and you wouldn't have noticed. Chuck your bags on the back and you can squeeze in here with Joe.'

Biddy slid along the seat. ‘How're you going, Joe? You and Mick look like twins now your hair's started to grow.'

Joe smiled but he didn't say anything. His arms were folded around his ribs as though he was cold, but his eyes were dancing. His smile grew wider.

‘What have you been up to?' Biddy poked him. ‘Look at him, Irene. And your dad. There's something they're not telling us.'

Irene caught her father's eye. ‘Where have you been, Dad?'

‘Well, you know my right-hand man here.' Joe snorted. ‘Well, him and I have been giving your folks a hand with the hay, Biddy. As you know—'

‘Dad,' growled Irene. ‘Get to the point.'

‘Well, stop interrupting. I broke the belt on the slasher, so Joe and I had to drive over to Henderson's workshop to pick up a new one.'

‘Is that all?' asked Biddy. Mr Henderson was nice, and he did have a kelpie called Holly who could climb trees, but visiting there was no big deal. ‘Come on, tell us what you've been doing.'

‘All right,' said Mick, as the truck rolled to a stop beside the shed. ‘Hop out and we'll tell you.'

Biddy pushed Irene out the door and waited for Joe. He wriggled his bum across the seat, then stepped down carefully from the truck.

‘Why are you holding your arms like that?' asked Biddy.

Joe was grinning. It was as though he was so happy he couldn't speak.

Mick grabbed the girls' bags off the back of the truck. ‘You know Holly?' he asked. ‘Mr Henderson's bitch. And you know that dog of the Jacksons? The heeler?'

Joe stepped towards Biddy. ‘Look.' He held open his shirt. She could see a fluffy bundle of brown and white nestled against his chest. ‘I got a pup.' He showed Irene. ‘I got a pup.'

Biddy was dying to cuddle the puppy, but it looked so comfortable that she put her arm around Joe instead.

‘I'm going to call her Molly,' he said. ‘Devil was my wild dog and she will be my home dog.'

Biddy gazed across the paddocks. Bella was lazing under the cypress tree, flicking flies with her tail. Across the bay the purple mountains of the headland faded into the sky.

‘Do you want to hold her, Biddy?' Joe handed her the pup and his smile was as sunny as the day.