Alice-Miranda in the Outback Read online

  The girls were quiet for a time as they ate their cake and sipped their water.

  ‘How are you feeling about everything?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  Larry looked up at the girl. ‘Worried – same as everyone.’

  ‘It must be hard with your mother away and your grandmother not well,’ the child said.

  Larry nodded. ‘I wish Hayden and I could have gone to Sydney, but Mum insisted we stay and help Dad. I feel sorry for her having to deal with everything on her own. Dad said that Granny’s been a bit difficult.’

  ‘Dementia is a horrible thing,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘I think Granny Bert is in the early stages too. She’s not really my granny, even though she’s been part of our family forever and lives on our property. It’s sad to see her forgetting things and getting cross.’

  ‘Granny kept calling me Evie the other night on the phone, and when I said I was Larry she said that was ridiculous – I sounded like a girl,’ Larry rolled her eyes. ‘I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to have some company around the place. It’s been quiet since Molly and her family left. I hope they come back soon so you can meet everyone. Stormy’s totally fearless. And smart too – way smarter than me and she’s only eight. She wants to be a doctor and I think she could do it. She’s always reading Grandpa’s old medical journals from the study and telling me Latin words I’ve never heard.’

  ‘Was your grandfather a doctor?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Yes, but he never practised, except bush medicine out here when workers on the property needed him. He delivered a few babies too. He wanted to leave Hope Springs, but something happened to his older brother. No one ever talks about Uncle Chester, but he’s the reason Grandpa had to come home and run the station. I should be grateful about whatever it was because if Grandpa hadn’t taken over, then the farm would probably have been sold and I wouldn’t get to run it when I’m older. Dad doesn’t talk about his father much – says he was a difficult man and he never knew his uncle at all. I suppose every family has their skeletons – that’s what Mum says anyway.’

  Alice-Miranda thought about the girl’s words. ‘I think that’s true. There are always secrets. My dad has a brother he didn’t know about until a few years ago. Daddy grew up thinking he was dead but we found him very much alive in New York. I love that they were reunited. Now Uncle Ed comes to visit and he and Daddy are really close. My dad’s father was a difficult man too. He was heartbroken when my grandmother died in an accident and he seemed to take it out on his sons. I’m so fortunate to have the parents I do.’

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ Larry said.

  Alice-Miranda noticed the worry line on the other girl’s forehead. She reached out to touch her arm. ‘Everything’s going to be okay. I’ve got a good feeling.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Larry replied. ‘Me too.’

  There was crackle of static over the two-way radio and Millie’s voice came through.

  ‘Hey guys, Hayden and I think we’ve found something. Over,’ the girl said.

  Alice-Miranda picked up the handset that was sitting on the bike seat. ‘What is it? Over.’

  ‘Some crusts of bread under a mulga tree,’ Millie replied. She gave the others their coordinates. Larry and Alice-Miranda hopped back onto the four-wheeler and started the engine. ‘We’re on our way.’

  In the meantime, Lawrence radioed the location to the chopper too. So far, Barnaby and Hugh had covered a vast distance and seen nothing except cattle, roos and a huge herd of camels.

  An hour later, the motorbikes descended on the spot where Millie and Hayden were waiting.

  Alice-Miranda inspected the bread, which had stiffened in the dry air.

  ‘I’m surprised a goanna hadn’t found that,’ Larry said.

  ‘It’s Vegemite, isn’t it?’ Alice-Miranda said as she gave the crust a sniff.

  Jacinta screwed up her nose. ‘Goannas probably hate that stuff as much as I do. That’s why it’s still here.’

  ‘I’ve called it in to Laura. She said the tracker has just arrived from Alice Springs and he’s on his way with Sergeant Johnson,’ Lawrence said. ‘But in the meantime we should fan out from here and see what we can find.’

  ‘Sergeant Johnson is Laura’s brother and Matilda’s uncle,’ Hayden said to the sweaty group.

  ‘Wow, it’s weird that the community out here in the middle of nowhere seems just as small as Winchesterfield – that’s the village where we go to school. Everyone knows everyone and half of them are related,’ Millie said. ‘Myrtle Parker loves nothing more than to spread stories, although she has been slightly better behaved since her husband came out of his coma.’

  Larry and Hayden raised their eyebrows at one another.

  ‘Story for another time,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘That happens out here too,’ Larry said. ‘But our town gossip isn’t even in the closest town. Her name’s Sharon, and she and her husband Wally . . .’

  ‘Run the Kulgera Roadhouse,’ Millie finished the girl’s sentence.

  ‘So you’ve had the pleasure?’ Larry said.

  ‘I wouldn’t call it that,’ Jacinta replied.

  ‘Did she say terrible things?’ Hayden asked.

  ‘Only about one of Dad’s movies.’ Lucas grinned and his father arched his left eyebrow.

  ‘I had to laugh,’ Lawrence said. ‘Otherwise I might have cried. I’m just glad she doesn’t work for the Hollywood Reporter.’

  ‘She has no filter,’ Larry said. ‘She’s probably told everyone within a thousand kilometres that Mum’s upped sticks and left Dad just because she’s gone to Sydney to take care of Granny.’

  ‘She has no decorating skills either,’ Millie quipped. ‘Seriously, who has a live snake on their shop counter?’

  Alice-Miranda remembered Sharon’s last words to them as they left the roadhouse. ‘There was something odd,’ she started. ‘We were walking out the door and Sharon called out something like “It was Hope Springs you said you were headed, wasn’t it?” And when I asked her why, she gave Wally this strange look as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.’

  ‘Probably ancient gossip,’ Hayden said. ‘Out here we call it the Bush Telegraph and Sharon is absolutely in charge of it.’

  ‘Best she takes care of that than write film reviews,’ Lawrence joked.

  The group laughed.

  ‘Should we get going?’ Alice-Miranda suggested.

  The others agreed. They had a quick check of their maps and worked out where they would focus their searches then zoomed away in different directions.

  Sprocket McGinty pulled up outside Taipan Dan’s dugout. It had been months now since he’d seen his old mate, and he had a feeling in the soles of his leathery feet that something wasn’t right. Sprocket let himself into the house the same as before. Nothing had changed, except there was a bit more stink coming from the kitchen. He wouldn’t open the fridge – it was a potential health risk, and he didn’t have the time to clean it out. Actually that wasn’t true. He just didn’t want to.

  ‘Where are you, Dan?’ Sprocket mumbled to himself. He’d come back figuring he’d take a better look around. Sprocket ferreted through some papers and a few envelopes on the dining table. Bills mostly – all unpaid too, by the looks of it. Nothing to indicate where his friend might have gone.

  He walked down the hallway to the bedroom. Dan’s bed was unmade. Sprocket tutted to himself and decided to tidy up. It wouldn’t take a minute, and at least when Dan came back he’d have a nice made up bed to hop into, even if his fridge did smell. Sprocket pulled up the sheet and noticed something among the furl of bedclothes. It was a piece of paper – a photocopied note – not addressed to anyone, just words on a page. The text was faded and difficult to make out, especially since it was in a swirly, old-fashioned script. It was likely written some time ago, when people had cared more about good penmanship than they did today. Sprocket read the words aloud.

  ‘The water on the table boasts a colourful
feast, where Hope Springs eternal beneath a hungry rusty beast.’

  He sat down on the end of the bed, the rhyme tumbling over and over in his mind. It was some sort of riddle. He’d enjoyed riddles as a kid, but they weren’t something he’d had a crack at for a long time.

  Sprocket had just folded the page when he heard the familiar clatter of a diesel engine. It didn’t sound exactly like Dan’s ancient ute – his had something of a D-minor arrangement and this engine was more B major, but perhaps Dan had got the old banger fixed. It had to be him, Sprocket thought. No one else ever visited. Dan kept to himself – it was something of a wonder they’d become friends, and that was really only because of a shared affinity for dynamite. At least now Sprocket could stop worrying.

  The man walked into the hallway just as the front door opened.

  ‘Where is it, you mongrel?’ an angry voice growled. Sprocket froze. That wasn’t Dan.

  He looked left and right and thought about hiding behind the nearest door before remembering that dugouts never had any. Instead, Sprocket scurried back to the bedroom and ducked down beside the bed. He held his breath – his mind racing. He didn’t know this voice, but whoever it was sounded like they were on a mission.

  A crash echoed from the kitchen. Sprocket could hear cupboards opening and closing and things being tossed about. He heard the fridge door open. ‘You filthy animal!’ the intruder, who Sprocket presumed had just been overwhelmed by the rancid smell, declared.

  The fridge door slammed shut and the trespasser moved into the lounge room, where Sprocket could hear furniture being thrown around and turned over. His heart was pounding. There was nowhere to hide and no other way out.

  Then he had an idea.

  Sprocket quickly messed up the bed again. He wrapped himself in the sheets and blankets, hoping that he’d blend into the bedclothes. It was a good thing he was so skinny, but until the guy left, he couldn’t afford to move a muscle. He pulled the blanket over his head.

  It wasn’t more than a few minutes until he could sense the man’s presence in the bedroom. The fellow was a heavy breather, and the physical activity had taken its toll – he was puffing and blowing and cursing under his breath. Sprocket almost yelped when the man sat down on the end of the bed. This was a disaster. What if the stranger decided to have a sleep? Sprocket had to keep calm or he’d give himself away. There was this one time, years ago, when he’d tried meditation. The voice in his head spoke to him.

  Imagine a peaceful place – by a lake, near the ocean, in a field – anywhere calming. Slow your racing heart . . . He could feel it working – for a moment anyway, until the intruder spoke again.

  ‘Where is it, Dan? It has to be here somewhere, you miserable old sod,’ the fellow’s voice was composed this time.

  Sprocket felt the intruder stand up and then heard him moving around the room and towards the wardrobe on the far side. Sprocket opened his eyes and realised he could see through a tiny gap in the covers. He just hoped that the bloke didn’t notice, or he was a goner. This fellow didn’t sound as though he’d be inclined to sit down and have a cup of tea and a chat about what it was he was after.

  As Sprocket watched, the man bent down to the floor and picked something up. ‘What’s this then?’ Sprocket could almost feel the fellow’s ragged breath. He cringed inwardly when he realised he must have dropped the paper he’d found on the floor.

  There was silence for a few seconds before the man roared. ‘You beauty! Now I just have to get my map from those thieving brats headed to Hope Springs.’

  Sprocket flinched. Hope Springs – that’s where Hugh and his mob had been off to. They didn’t need this bloke paying them a visit. What sort of map was he after?

  Sprocket continued his game of statues, willing the fellow to hurry up and disappear. Thankfully, the intruder soon walked back out of the room and down the hallway. The front door slammed. Sprocket was in the clear. He kicked off the covers and rolled onto the floor, hitting the ground hard. ‘Ow!’ he complained, then rubbed his nose and stood up.

  ‘Hope Springs! I’ve got to get there before he does, or Hugh with Two and the rest of them are in trouble!’ Sprocket said loudly. He ran out the front door without thinking, slamming straight into the burly brute.

  ‘G’day, mate, whaddaya know?’ the man said before he punched Sprocket in the face, knocking him out cold.

  The young man lifted his hat and wiped the back of his arm across his sweaty forehead.

  ‘How much longer do you reckon this is gonna take, Muz?’ he said. ‘It’d be much quicker if we just capped them.’

  ‘Course it would, and then it would be so much easier to trace too, you moron.’ Muz – a stringy character with teeth like tombstones and a shock of bright orange hair – bit his lip.

  Muz and Col had been out here for a while now. It was a big job. But so was the outback, everything about it was vast – the land, the sky, the distances, the problems. The boss at Saxby Downs had made their mission very clear. Leave no trail. They had to build up the pressure – if the station was going to double their herd in the next twelve months, they needed all the water they could get.

  ‘Suppose at least while we’re out here, our bank accounts are gettin’ bigger. Nothing to spend it on,’ Col said. ‘Although I have something in mind next time we head to town. What do you reckon about a fire-breathing dragon right down the centre of my back – to complement the frill-necked lizard on my arm.’

  ‘Is that what that thing is?’ Muz said.

  ‘Get out, the lizard’s brilliant,’ Col scoffed.

  ‘Well, it sounds painful and expensive,’ Muz said. ‘I’d rather use my money to buy a patch of land so I can stop doin’ other people’s bidding.’

  ‘Nah, we’re young fellas. Don’t wanna get tied down at our age. We should see the world – have some adventures,’ Col said.

  ‘Not me,’ Muz shook his head. ‘I’m gonna buy a patch of dirt and some cattle and ask Elsie to marry me.’

  Col shuddered at the thought. ‘You’ll have half a dozen kids in no time flat and never a second to yourself. I can’t think of anything worse.’

  ‘Well, that’s just how we’re different, Col. I want to get married and have a family and you want to get tattoos and travel. To each their own,’ Muz said as he clamped two pieces of pipe together, then tightened the coupling. They needed more hardware – hopefully the boss had that sorted and would have it dropped in tomorrow. Earlier in the day, the men had seen a helicopter in the distance and ducked in under some brush for cover. They weren’t taking any chances if it wasn’t the boss and, as it turned out – it hadn’t been.

  The pair continued working until they were hampered by a lack of light. It would take an hour or so to get back to their bush camp, where it sat protected between some rocky outcrops. They even had water on tap, provided by the ancient windmill. The last thing they needed was for someone to find them – because if that was the case, there’d be no travelling the world or having families. Both were pretty tricky things to do from prison.

  It was five thirty when Barnaby radioed through to the kids that they were calling it a day. After the promising find of the Vegemite crusts, there had been nothing. Not a single clue.

  The police had covered miles to the north and east of the property, while the children and Lawrence had scoured the west and part of the south. Barnaby and Hugh had been flying for hours and, apart from being exhausted, they were almost out of fuel.

  ‘I feel sick,’ Millie shouted to Hayden above the motor bike’s engine as they rode towards Hope Springs.

  The boy turned his head and looked at his passenger. ‘I can stop if you need to.’

  Millie shook her head. ‘I just meant that I feel sick about not finding Matilda. How long can she survive out here?’ The girl blinked back the tears that had been threatening for the past hour or so.

  Hayden gave her a grin. ‘She’ll be okay. Kids are tough in the outback.’

  Millie cou
ld only hope so. She hung on as they sped across the dusty plains towards the homestead, Hayden dodging yet another errant camel, who seemed to come from nowhere.

  It was fair to say that the rest of the party were feeling much the same. Leaving the search without having found Matilda had given everyone an awful sense of foreboding. They should have found her by now, surely.

  This was open country peppered with clumps of bush and mulga trees. She was a four-year-old. She couldn’t have travelled that far.

  Over at Darley’s Plains the police had radioed to say they would continue their search into the night for as long as they could – then they’d camp where they were and resume first thing in the morning. Laura had stayed at the house, manning the radio and praying that her little girl would magically show up. She was doing her best not to panic, but it was getting harder and harder as every hour ticked by. What if Matilda had been bitten by a snake? What if she’d stumbled into one of the wells? What if she’d fallen asleep in the sun? Laura felt as if she might go mad with worry. Her parents were on their way from Port Augusta and due any time now. At least when they arrived she’d have someone other than herself to talk to.

  It was right on dusk when Alice-Miranda and Larry arrived home. They were the first back, but the others couldn’t be too far behind.

  Alice-Miranda pulled off her helmet and ran her hand through her sweat-soaked hair. ‘I thought we’d find Matilda for sure after Millie and Hayden located that crust.’

  Larry nodded. ‘Me too. It’s as if she just vanished.’

  ‘Should we put the bike away?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Larry said. ‘You can get us some drinks. There’s plenty of ice in the freezer and lime cordial in the pantry.’

  Alice-Miranda walked up the steps while Larry jumped back onto the four-wheeler and turned the engine over, steering the vehicle towards the machinery shed.

  ‘Hello you two,’ the child said, as she opened the screen door and was greeted by Rusty and Junie. ‘You haven’t done anything smelly in the house, have you?’ She realised they’d been locked in all day and were probably desperate to go to the loo.