‘I’m starving.’
‘So am I.’
‘Mum was going to buy us lunch at the Royal Hotel, did you know?’
Michelle groaned. ‘Don’t tell me that. It only makes things worse. Oh, where are they?’
Mum and Tammy’s mother (or Esme, as Mum called her) were saying the same thing. They were beginning to get worried. At last Angus’s dad suggested that he and Tony’s mum should go and see what was wrong; Mum, Tammy’s mother and Amy’s dad, meanwhile, should look after the rest of us.
But before anyone could do anything, Mrs Patel suddenly appeared. Even from a distance, I could see that she was looking anxious.
I could also see that she was alone.
‘Uh-oh,’ said Michelle. ‘We have a problem.’
‘The stupid nong must be lost,’ Peter observed, from a patch of shade nearby.
I didn’t say anything. I got up and went over to where Mrs Patel was talking to the mums and dads in a quick, sharp, breathless voice. Michelle followed me. So did Peter, Angus and Serge. By the time I could hear what the adults were saying, I was part of a hovering crowd.
‘. . . organise a search party.’ Mrs Patel had taken her hat off and was running her fingers through her hair. ‘Just a small one. To stay here while the rest go back and ring the police.’
‘But are you sure?’ said Mum. ‘Did you call out?’
‘Of course I did,’ Mrs Patel replied testily. ‘There was no response. Nothing.’
‘You lost them?’ Tony’s mum exclaimed, in a shrill voice, before Tammy’s mum laid a soothing hand on her arm.
‘No, no,’ she said. ‘No one’s fault.’
‘They’re probably hiding,’ Angus’s dad growled. ‘I wouldn’t put it past ’em.’
‘Oh, they wouldn’t.’ Mum was shocked. ‘Surely they wouldn’t be so silly.’
‘They wouldn’t do that!’ Tony’s mum cried, rounding on Angus’s dad. ‘You talk about your own son!’
‘Shh. It’s all right, Mrs Karavias,’ said Mrs Patel. And then Mum caught sight of my face.
‘What is it, Allie?’ she demanded.
Everyone looked at me. I felt hot all over.
‘I – I think I . . .’ It was so hard to get the words out. ‘I might’ve . . . uh . . . seen someone,’ I finished lamely. At which point all the adults fired questions at me.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Saw whom?’
‘When?’
‘Where?’
‘You mean Jesse? You saw Jesse?’
‘No,’ I mumbled. Glancing at Michelle, I noticed that she was biting her lip, while Peter stared at the ground. ‘It was an old man in the gully. Up there.’ I pointed.
‘A tourist?’ said Mrs Patel.
‘I don’t know. I – I don’t think so.’ As they stared at me, I added desperately: ‘His clothes weren’t right. They were sort of . . . strange.’
‘Strange?’ This time it was Amy’s dad talking. ‘In what way?’
‘Well . . . it was like he hadn’t taken them off or washed them in about a hundred years.’
There was a long silence. The adults stopped looking at me and glanced at each other.
‘Okay.’ Angus’s dad suddenly spoke up, briskly and firmly. ‘Victor – you and I can stay with Mrs Patel. We’ll start searching. Judy, you and the other mothers take the kids back to town. You’d better talk to the police when you get there.’
‘No!’ Tony’s mum objected. ‘I have to stay! He’s my son!’
‘He’s her son, Bob,’ Amy’s dad pointed out. ‘I mean, if she wants to stay . . .’
‘Hang on a minute,’ Mum interrupted. ‘I’ve got a mobile. We can ring the police from here.’
So that’s what they did. Mrs Patel called the Hill End police, who agreed to send someone out as soon as possible. Meanwhile, a National Parks and Wildlife Officer would be coming to help us.
‘Apparently he knows his way around this area,’ Mrs Patel declared, as she handed the mobile back to my mum. ‘He knows where all the dangerous shafts are.’
‘What do you mean?’ Tony’s mother shrilled. ‘What’s dangerous?’
‘It’s all right, Mrs Karavias,’ said Mum. ‘I’m sure Tony hasn’t fallen down any holes.’
‘I’ll find him.’ Tony’s mum raised her voice. ‘Tony! TONY!’
‘Wait.’ Amy’s dad put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Hang on. Let’s do this properly. We should divide into groups, and leave one group here, to wait for this Parks guy –’
‘Not the kids,’ Mrs Patel broke in firmly. ‘I’m not having any more kids wandering around out there. The kids can go back to Hill End. They haven’t eaten yet.’
‘But who’s going to go with them?’ Amy’s dad asked.
‘And what about Malcolm?’ Angus’s dad wanted to know. ‘He was the last to see those two boys – we’ll need him to show us where.’
In the end, it was decided that Amy’s dad would take most of the kids back to Hill End in the bus. Mrs Patel would wait for the National Parks and Wildlife Officer near the road. Malcolm would show Tony’s mum and Angus’s dad where he had last seen Jesse and Tony. And I would show Mum and Tammy’s mother where I had last seen the white-haired old man.
‘Just on the off-chance,’ Mrs Patel said cagily, without going on to explain herself. But I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking that maybe the feral might have had something to do with Jesse’s disappearance.
‘Here,’ said Michelle, handing me her last almond bar. ‘Since you’re obviously not going to be eating for a while.’
‘Mum says there’s bread and tomatoes and cheese sticks in the tent, but no butter,’ I sighed. ‘She says to help yourself.’
‘Are we going back to the camping ground?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I thought we were going to History Hill.’
‘You’d better ask Amy’s dad.’
‘I bet Jesse’s just playing up,’ Michelle concluded, trying to reassure me. She patted my back, her eyebrows knotted into an expression of sympathetic concern. ‘Are you going to be all right?’
‘I guess.’
‘It seems pretty stupid that I can’t stay.’
‘We could ask.’
‘I already did. Mrs Patel said no.’ Michelle shook her head, sighing. ‘It seems so stupid.’
Then she got on the bus with everyone else. I was so anxious and confused that I forgot to wave goodbye when the bus drove off. I still feel mean about that.
‘Here,’ said Mrs Patel, handing Mum her whistle. ‘If you find anything, give two sharp blasts.’
‘What about us?’ Angus’s dad frowned. ‘What’ll we do?’
‘Send someone back.’
‘If only there was another mobile,’ Mum said regretfully, ‘we could keep in touch by phone.’
I glanced at Malcolm Morling. He was looking bewildered. For once I could sympathise; I was still in a state of shock myself. One half of me was frightened. The other half felt that perhaps the adults were over-reacting, because Jesse couldn’t really be lost. As Michelle had said, he was probably just playing up.
But I didn’t say this out loud, of course. It wouldn’t have been the right moment.
‘So,’ Mum said to me with an unconvincing smile. ‘Are we all ready?’
‘I guess.’
‘Mrs Patel wants us to check the area where you saw the old man. Do you remember where that was?’
‘Yeah.’ All too well.
‘Right. Where’s Esme? Oh – there you are. All set? Yes? Good.’ Mum took a deep breath. ‘Okay,’ she said brightly. ‘Let’s go then.’
CHAPTER # six
‘Jesse!’
‘Tony!’
‘Jesse, where are you?’
Tammy’s mother had a very small, thin shout – perhaps because she was so small and thin herself. Looking at her, I decided that Bethan would have fitted quite nicely into her jeans, except that he never would have worn jeans w
ith a spotted dog embroidered on the back pocket. Tammy’s mother also wore the whitest T-shirt I’ve ever seen and a tiny pair of pink-and-white sneakers that still looked big and chunky on the ends of her spindly ankles.
She seemed out of place in the bush – too neat and clean.
Mum, on the other hand, was sweating like a pig.
‘Down here?’ she asked, pointing, and I nodded. We advanced cautiously into the short gully where I had last seen my feral. Ahead, around the next corner, something cast a shadow over the dry creek bed – something hunched and bulky, with waving arms.
When we reached it, we found a rock poised on the edge of the gully wall, with a couple of young trees growing out of it. The trees were dancing in the breeze that had started to blow.
‘I was supposed to drop in on Samantha after lunch,’ Mum suddenly remarked. ‘To meet up with Richard and Delora.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ I had forgotten Richard and Delora. ‘When are they supposed to arrive?’
‘About now.’
‘Oh.’
‘If Samantha had a phone, I could ring and explain.’
‘Doesn’t Richard have a mobile?’
‘If he does, I don’t know the number. Right or left, Allie?’
‘Right.’
We kept walking. With every step we took, a new stretch of creek bed opened out before us. The wind was rushing through the treetops far overhead, making a noise like the sea, but down in the gully we could hardly feel it except as a teasing breath on the back of our necks. Passing a hole in the gully wall, I slowed reluctantly.
‘Mum?’
‘What?’
‘I was thinking . . . when we were here, me and Peter . . .’ I swallowed. ‘I wondered if he might be hiding in one of these holes . . .’
‘Who? Jesse?’
‘The old guy.’
She blinked at me, her forehead puckering, then glanced quickly at the hole. It yawned ominously.
‘Oh, no,’ she said, sounding shaken. ‘It’s too small.’
‘Yeah. But there are bigger ones.’
‘Why would he have been hiding?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You mustn’t let this place get to you, Allie. I realise it has a strange energy signature, but that doesn’t necessarily mean much.’
‘Judy! Look!’
It was Tammy’s mother. She had picked up a folded piece of white paper, which had been fluttering down a kind of path or shallow incline that you could climb if you wanted to get out of the gully. Standing at the top of this incline, she waved the piece of paper at us.
‘Come here!’ she exclaimed.
‘What is it?’ Mum inquired, raising her voice.
‘I think maybe Jesse’s project sheet, do you think?’
Mum and I quickly scrambled up the slope to see. Sure enough, the piece of paper had Jesse’s name on it. Otherwise, it was unmarked except for a date – 1870 – scribbled after one of the questions.
Obviously Jesse hadn’t been doing much work.
‘Oh, my God,’ Mum breathed and gazed around her. ‘Jesse?’ she yelled. ‘JESSE!’ But there was nothing to see – only scrubby bush, spiky grass, dead trees and the gaps in the ground where the gullies were.
‘Mum?’ I couldn’t stop my voice from trembling. ‘He’ll be all right, won’t he?’
‘JESSE? Of course he will. JESSE!’
‘The paper was blowing down,’ said Tammy’s mother. ‘Down from here. I saw.’
‘Did the old man come up here?’ Mum asked me.
‘No. I don’t know.’ I could hardly think, I was so worried about Jesse. Where was he? ‘Where are they, Mum?’
‘Shh!’ Tammy’s mother raised her hand. ‘Listen.’
We listened. All I could hear was leaves swishing.
‘What?’ Mum whispered. ‘What is it?’
‘Someone’s voice, I thought.’
We listened again. The wind died down for a moment. Then I heard it too.
‘Probably just Ted and Maria,’ Mum began.
‘No! Shh!’ Tammy’s mother flapped her hands wildly. ‘Listen!’
‘There!’ I caught my breath. ‘It’s – it’s –’
‘From that way,’ said Tammy’s mum.
Mum and I strained to catch the thread of sound. Another gust of wind drowned it out, but we heard it again when the wind died.
‘There!’ I squeaked.
‘What – I mean, can you tell –?’ Mum stammered.
‘ “Help,” ’ Tammy’s mother breathed. She stared at us, her eyes wide with distress. ‘Is that what it is?’
‘Oh, no,’ I whimpered.
‘JESSE!’ Mum screamed. ‘TONY! WHERE ARE YOU?’
This time there could be no doubt. A faint, muffled voice cried, ‘Here!’ I clutched Mum’s arm.
‘That way! It’s that way!’
‘Come on,’ she gasped.
‘Jesse!’ I screamed, but she flung out a hand, as if to check me.
‘No. Don’t shout. We have to listen.’
It was hard because the ground was all snapping sticks and crunching grass. We couldn’t help grunting, either, as we scrambled over fallen trees and pushed clawing dead branches out of our way. Sometimes we had to stop in our tracks, all of us, and listen. Then we could hear the voice again, cracking as it pleaded for help.
‘Here! I’m here! Hurry!’
‘Is it Jesse or Tony?’ Mum demanded, her fingers digging into my neck. ‘Can you tell?’
‘I – I don’t know.’ Never having heard either of them in a genuine state of panic, I couldn’t be sure. And it occurred to me that there was one other possibility.
‘Mum,’ I said, catching at her sleeve before she could move forward. ‘You don’t think – I mean . . .’
‘What?’ She waited. But I couldn’t say it out loud. I couldn’t say: ‘What if it’s the old man, trying to lure us into a trap?’ The whole notion was ridiculous. I knew that. Especially since my mother had never seen him – had never felt that weird sense of being watched . . .
‘Nothing,’ I mumbled.
‘Come on! We’re so close!’
We were, in fact, very close. We didn’t realise how close until Tammy’s mother, with a little shriek, nearly fell down a hole. It wasn’t a gully – it was an honest-to-goodness mineshaft, overgrown with weeds and lined with a couple of rotting wooden boards. It was small, it was dark, and it was extremely dangerous.
‘Here! I’m here!’ cried the voice, from the bottom of it.
‘Oh, my God,’ Mum squeaked.
‘Jesse?’ Tammy’s mother cried. ‘Is that you?’
‘Yes! It’s me! Get me out! Get me OUT!’ He was practically howling. He sounded so strange. Again, I thought of my silly idea about the old man, lurking in holes, watching . . .
‘Where’s Tony?’ Mum shouted. ‘Is he down there too?’
‘Yes! He’s down here! He’s hurt!’
‘Oh, my God,’ Mum repeated. She was beginning to panic; I could tell.
‘Mum, blow the whistle,’ I urged. ‘Quick, blow it.’
‘Oh! Oh, yes!’ She groped down the front of her shirt, pulled Mrs Patel’s whistle out, fumbled, dropped it, then put it to her lips and blew.
The noise was piercing.
‘It’s all right, Jesse!’ she yelled. ‘Help is on the way! Allie.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Go and tell Mrs Patel, will you? Quickly!’
‘Who, me? No way.’ I wasn’t about to return alone. I wasn’t about to leave Jesse – or Mum.
‘But Allie, she mightn’t have heard the whistle.’
‘Then blow it again.’
‘I will go,’ said Tammy’s mother. ‘I will go now.’
‘Hey! Don’t go! Are you still there?’
‘It’s all right, Jesse!’ Mum bellowed, before smiling gratefully at Tammy’s mother. ‘We won’t leave you! Esme, are you sure you can find the right path?’
‘Oh, yes. No problem.’
Tamm
y’s mother hurried away, so light on her feet that the dry sticks barely cracked beneath her shock-proof soles. We watched her go, and I felt a bit ashamed of myself, but I couldn’t help it. The very thought of leaving made my stomach lurch. To be walking around on my own, with a feral on the prowl . . . Besides, I couldn’t abandon Jesse.
‘It wasn’t my fault!’ he was saying, his voice hoarse with emotion. ‘We weren’t being stupid! We were chased!’
‘It’s all right, Jesse.’ Mum was trying to soothe him, without much success; her own voice was shaking. ‘Can Tony talk? How is he? What happened to him?’
‘We were digging,’ Jesse continued, as if he hadn’t heard, ‘and my hand got stuck in the dirt! I couldn’t pull it out! And then I looked up, and he was there! This old man! He hissed at me! He – he had no eyes!’ Jesse sounded frantic. ‘There were no eyes, but he was coming for me!’
‘Oh, my God,’ I breathed, casting a quick glance around. But there was no one lurking nearby.
‘Calm down,’ said Mum. ‘Jesse? We’re here. Please – tell me about Tony. Can he talk?’
‘I pulled my hand out, and I ran! We both did – me and Tony – but he chased us into a cliff! We had to climb up! He grabbed my foot . . .’ Jesse’s wail broke on a sob. It was weird. I thought: that isn’t Jesse. That can’t be Jesse – not the Jesse I know. And something cold clutched at my heart. ‘But I got away, and we climbed up, and we ran, and we fell!’ the high-pitched voice continued. ‘He chased us right in here!’
‘Jesse, I need to know about Tony!’ Mum shouted. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
There was a mumbled reply. Mum and I looked at each other. Her face was contorted with anxiety and fear.
‘What’s that?’ she bawled. ‘Jesse? What did you say?’
‘I didn’t say anything! It was Tony!’ Jesse seemed a little calmer, though still very shaken. ‘He can’t yell, because it hurts him to breathe!’
‘Dear God,’ Mum moaned.
‘His leg hurts too,’ Jesse went on. ‘And his hand!’
‘Mum,’ I whispered. ‘Is he going to be all right?’
‘I’m sure he is. I’m sure he will be.’ Suddenly Mum cocked her head, and sucked in her breath. ‘What’s that?’ she hissed.
It was Mrs Patel; I recognised her voice instantly. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her. The sound of her panted complaint – ‘I can’t believe they could be so stupid, when I specifically warned them’ – seemed to float on the air, and I realised that she must be down in the nearest gully.