The Tunnels of Tarcoola (5 page)

SATURDAY
arrived at last, and David slipped out of the house straight after lunch, leaving his mother on the phone making last-minute arrangements for the residents' action meeting. His father and Moshe were washing the dishes.

There were no cars outside Martin's house. David looked at his watch. It was not quite one o'clock.

Instead of sitting on the front step, he meandered along the street and around the corner, past the abandoned factory buildings. He strolled along the cyclone-wire fence, dragging his hand, feeling the ripples. A little breeze sighed in the trees by the old house.

David squinted at the development notice attached to a post in the grounds of the factory. It seemed a silly place to put a public notice, where it could hardly be seen from the street. He remembered his mother talking to people on the phone about the meeting. She had been describing something like this, talking about underhand dealings and saying that the Council ought to be investigated.

It struck him that this might be the development his parents had been droning on about. He racked his brains to remember some of what they had said. Yes, they had mentioned an old factory. And a lot of houses to be built – forty-something, maybe. The thought of the Haunted House surrounded by forty smart townhouses was ludicrous.

The factory gate was half off its hinges, with plenty of space to squeeze through. David ran down the rickety steps onto the glass-strewn asphalt and peered at the notice. It showed the site as an irregular shape divided into rectangles, each one presumably representing a house block. David looked around, trying to get his bearings. It would help, he thought, if the plan showed the Haunted House, or at least showed the direction of the park and the water. As it was, he couldn't make much sense of it.

The whole thing made him uneasy. If they cleaned up the factory site and built houses on it, would they leave the old house and the overgrown garden alone? Wouldn't the people who moved into the smart new houses complain, and want everything neat and tidy? He liked the garden the way it was, with its tangled undergrowth and hidden corners, snakes and all.

In fact – he looked again at the plan – where was the garden? Wouldn't it be shown somewhere in the drawing as a big open space? Little cogs started to click into place in his brain.

MARTIN
answered the door, his mouth full.

‘You look as if you've seen a ghost,' he mumbled.

‘I just came by the Haunted House,' said David.

‘You have seen a ghost!'

‘Very funny.' David followed Martin into the little dining room. There were soup bowls and baguettes on the table, and Martin resumed eating as fast as he could.

‘I have seen into the future,' said David gloomily. ‘I don't suppose you've ever noticed that sign on the old factory site? The development notice?'

‘Well, yeah. That's been there forever.'

‘Did it cross your mind that it's the development people have been going on about?'

‘Oh. Right.'

‘I think they're going to take out the garden around the house, as well as the factory.'

‘Yeah, but it'll be okay,' said Martin. ‘Your parents and all those other people will stop it.'

‘I hope so. My mum was talking about it on the phone just now. She said the developer guy owns half the council, and all his applications get through.'

‘He's a bit of a crook, that Harold Buckingham,' said Martin's father, coming into the room with a pot of steaming soup. ‘He had this lovely old house in Marrickville last year, heritage, and there was a preservation order on it. So he sent in bulldozers in the middle of the night. By the time the residents knew what was happening, there was nothing left to save.'

‘But he wouldn't do that to the Haunted House?' Martin was horror-struck.

‘Wouldn't put it past him.'

‘But why would he want to demolish it?' asked David.

‘Hey, you kids haven't been playing around there, have you?'

‘No, Dad,' said Martin quickly.

‘Well, make sure you don't. That old place has been neglected for years. It could be ready to fall down, for all I know.'

At that moment a key scraped in the lock and Kitty tumbled into the room, her eyes bright, spilling bags and parcels. Her mother followed.

‘I've got my new shoes,' said Kitty. ‘And we had lunch at Broadway. We went to that sushi train!'

Kitty's mother was already collecting plates. ‘We'd better hurry, Paul,' she was saying. ‘The movie starts at one forty-five.'

‘You're going out?' asked Martin.

‘Just to a movie, but we might call in on Marion and Steve afterwards. Will you kids be okay on your own?'

‘Of course, Mum!' Martin and Kitty cried in unison.

‘We might go to the park for a while,' added Martin.

‘Well, make sure you lock up and take a key. And don't play around those cliffs!'

‘We won't,' they chorused.

Finally the door slammed.

‘All right!' shouted Martin, exchanging a high-five with David. ‘Let's get going!'

‘Wait a sec,' said Kitty. ‘Andrea might be lurking outside. She was probably waiting for Mum and Dad to leave.'

Sure enough, Andrea was on the front verandah. She came in rather shyly.

‘I've made a few preparations,' said David modestly. He opened the backpack he had brought.

‘There's this.' He brought out a coil of new white rope. ‘It's what climbers use,' he said. ‘I've also got a knife, for marking our way, and – um – a torch.' He brought out a baseball cap with a torch duct-taped to its peak. Thin wires led from the torch to a pair of batteries, strapped together, which David also produced. He put the batteries in his pocket and the cap on his head.

‘I do have a head-torch, but the beam's not wide enough,' he said. ‘This is quite strong, because I've used extra batteries. I've rigged up a switch.'

He pressed a switch attached to another wire. The torch flickered on and off. David fiddled with the wires, frowning.

‘Great!' said Martin politely, but Andrea burst out laughing.

‘I'm sorry,' she spluttered. ‘It's just . . . I'm sorry. I've got to get a picture of this.' She pulled a camera out of her bag and snapped.

‘I don't know if it'll come out,' she said. ‘I didn't want to use the flash. I'm saving the battery for the tunnels.'

‘You're not taking a camera down there?' protested Martin.

‘Why not?'

‘It's . . . it's just wrong!' chimed in David.

‘Why?'

‘See, in role-playing games, the most unprepared person is a tourist,' Martin explained with unusual patience.

‘A tourist?'

‘Yes, a tourist goes exploring the dungeon with just a camera, instead of taking useful stuff, like . . . um . . . weapons.'

‘Weapons,' said Andrea. ‘Well, Marty, this isn't a role-playing game. This is reality, and I'm bringing a camera. What are you bringing?'

‘Well, I'll be making a map, of course.' Martin took a notebook and a pencil from the top of the refrigerator. ‘And I've been brushing up on my skills.' He made a few practice karate moves.

‘I'm bringing some food,' said Kitty, busy opening cupboards. ‘Someone help me with this stuff.' She piled some muesli bars, water bottles, apples and sultanas onto the table. They put some in David's backpack and some in an old schoolbag of Martin's.

‘I've also got some candles,' contributed Andrea.

‘Oh, great,' said David flatly. ‘Any matches?'

Andrea produced a cigarette lighter.

‘Now, before we get there,' started Kitty as they set off down the street, ‘Andrea and I have to tell you all about Miss Gordon, the lady who used to live in the house.'

‘Later,' said Martin impatiently, striding ahead.

‘And listen,' interrupted Andrea. ‘We have to be really careful when we get near the house, because . . . '

‘But it's important!' Ignoring her, Kitty was trying to catch up with the boys. ‘She said she was the mistress of Tarcoola, but Cec says the house has been empty since the war. Cec says someone committed suicide there! So there really is a ghost, but Miss Gordon—'

‘Not now!' said David. ‘Come on, let's take a shortcut through the factory.' He led the way to the gate at the top of the steps and they all slipped through the gap.

‘See the sign?' said David. ‘All of this is going! That bit must be where the Haunted House is now. I think your dad's right. I think they are going to pull it down.'

Andrea was dismayed. ‘They can't pull down the Haunted House!' she said. ‘Aren't there laws stopping them? Because it's – sort of – historical?'

‘The only law around here is money,' said David.

‘Well, let's explore it while we can,' said Martin, striding on.

They stepped over the low stone wall and approached the deserted house cautiously.

‘We've got to be really quiet,' whispered Andrea. ‘I came here the other day, but someone turned up – security guards or something. I nearly got caught.'

‘That's all we need,' muttered David. ‘To get arrested for trespassing.'

‘But I found a good way to get in,' persisted Andrea. ‘Do you want me to show you?'

‘Later!' cried Martin and David together.

Martin ran to the corner of the house, peeped around, then gestured for the others to follow. David ran after him. It was kind of silly, but kind of fun. The two boys took turns scouting the area, making sure it was safe, then one by one they all climbed in through the broken window.

David stooped and ran through the cellar, and the others scrambled after him.

They pushed the wooden crates away from the trapdoor and climbed down the ladder. David crammed his cap onto his head, and the torch flashed on. Martin got out his pad and started drawing.

‘We know where this door leads,' he said, indicating the entrance to the tunnel that led to the Doughnut. ‘Though we might explore it some more later.'

‘Why are you drawing those funny shapes?' demanded Kitty. ‘This entrance shaft is square, and the doors in both those arches are rectangles. Why are you drawing them all as hexagons?'

‘That's just the way it's done,' snapped Martin. ‘Isn't it, Dave?'

‘Sure,' said David. ‘It's another role-playing game thing.'

He examined the heavy wooden door opposite. ‘This one's well and truly locked,' he said. The door had a large, old-fashioned keyhole.

‘Let's try one of these other tunnels, then,' said Andrea, plunging through one of the open archways.

‘Wait!' said David, grabbing her arm. ‘We've got to stick together. I think we should use the rope.'

‘What, like mountaineers?' Andrea smiled. David was still holding her arm. She glanced down at his hand. He flushed and started fiddling with his pack, pulling out the rope.

‘There could be holes in the floor,' he said. ‘Or . . . or anything.'

‘He's right,' put in Martin. ‘If we're tied together at least we can't lose anyone.'

‘I'd better go first,' said David. ‘I've got the torch.'

The two girls both looked at Martin. There was a dangerous glint in their eyes.

‘I'll go last,' he said diplomatically. ‘In case we're attacked from the rear,' he added.

‘Right,' said David. Kitty rolled her eyes, and Andrea giggled.

When they were all tied together to David's satisfaction, they set off. The tunnel they chose seemed to have been hewn out of the sandstone. It was just wide enough and high enough for them to go through in single file, and it ran straight ahead for a few metres before opening into an irregularly shaped cave, about as big as a small room and sloping downwards at one end, where it narrowed again into another tunnel. They squeezed in. As they moved forward the unpleasant smell that hung around the entrance shaft faded. The air here was thin, faintly sour and damp.

The sloping tunnel became narrower and steeper, but then it widened again into a more regular shape, with rough stone steps going down.

‘Do you want to know what I think?' said David.

‘No!' the others chorused automatically.

‘I think,' David went on, ‘that some of these are natural tunnels, but where they wouldn't join up properly someone's dug them out. Look!'

On their left as they descended the steps there was another opening. Here the wall was not rock but close-packed earth, and the rectangular tunnel was shored up with massive pieces of timber. It was about two metres wide, and high enough for an adult to walk through. They plunged into it eagerly, but after a short distance it petered out. A few spare lengths of timber lay at their feet, with an impenetrable earth wall in front.

‘Well, they gave up on that one,' murmured Kitty.