Hills End (10 page)

The lovely world they had known had gone, and Adrian buried his face in his hands—that way of his of expressing horror.

‘Miss Godwin,' he breathed, ‘and Butch! They'll be dead. That's why no one's come. They mightn't even know about us.'

‘Even if they did know,' Paul tried to say calmly, ‘they couldn't come, could they?'

‘But Butch and Miss Godwin are dead.'

‘We can't say that for sure.'

Gussie began to cry and Maisie tried to comfort her and started crying herself, and Frances, not as unkind as she seemed to be, snapped, ‘Stop your blubbering.'

‘It's all right for you, Frances. You're big.'

‘Do as I say. Stop blubbering!'

They wiped their eyes on the backs of their hands, but both seemed to shrink a little in size.

‘Well,' said Frances to the boys, ‘who's in charge?'

‘What on earth do you mean?'

‘Just what I said, Paul. We've got to have a leader. I think we're going to need one.'

‘I—I don't know that I follow you, Frances?'

‘It's plain enough, Paul,' sighed Adrian. ‘We're in a bit of a pickle. We need someone to give the orders. Frances means, I think, that we've got to behave ourselves like soldiers.'

‘Something like that. You do know what I mean, Paul, so don't be difficult. Do I have to say it aloud?'

No. She didn't need to say it. Paul could see it. Adrian could see it. Perhaps the younger ones could see it, too. Unless they were very brave and very careful they would never cross to the other side of the rock pan alive.

‘All right then,' said Paul. ‘Who's it to be? Not me. I don't want the job.'

‘Nor me either,' said Adrian.

‘That only leaves Harvey,' said Frances, ‘and you couldn't ask it of him.'

‘It leaves you, doesn't it? It was your idea.'

‘That's silly,' said Frances. ‘It's not a job for a girl. What would everyone say? I think Adrian should be the leader. He's the oldest.'

Paul scowled. ‘I wouldn't obey any of his orders. There's only one boy I'd ever obey and that's Peter Matheson. He's got sense, he has.'

‘But Peter's not here. He went to the picnic.'

Adrian had his face in his hands again. ‘Paul's right, Frances. Peter's class captain. He has lots of sense and I haven't. That's why he's captain and I'm not.'

‘We are being honest, aren't we?'

Frances frowned. ‘Don't be cruel, Paul. I know none of us are leaders, really. You've never been captain of the boys and I've never been captain of the girls, but I think we did pretty well last night in there. We kept our heads. If we'd got panicky we might have drowned.'

‘Righto,' said Paul. ‘We won't have a leader at all. Six heads are better than one.'

‘I don't know,' said Frances. ‘I'd feel better if someone were in charge.'

Maisie sighed from the background. ‘We won't get a leader this way. All we'll get is a fight. And you know what I think? I think we should sit here and wait for help to come, or wait for the water to go down, anyway, and then walk across in peace and quiet without any arguments.'

She was so right. Even Frances hadn't thought of that.

‘What did I tell you?' said Paul. ‘Six heads are better than one.'

‘I haven't got six heads,' said Maisie.

 

The sun climbed higher and higher through the long and hot hours of the morning. The sky was so clear and so blue that it seemed impossible for yesterday to have been real. The great rock valley in front of them was filled with shimmering vapours and steam, but the water still flowed from the mountains, and although they watched the forest fringe half a mile away not a living thing stirred. There were no distant whistles or cooees. They could have been the last people on the face of the earth.

Why hadn't anyone come from Hills End? It was eerie, this silence, through the long, long hours of the morning.

Sometimes they talked about things that didn't matter, but most of the time they sat tensely, straining their ears, and always waiting.

Even the older ones began to feel younger and younger, smaller and smaller. Even Paul, who tried so hard to be a man, began to think how marvellous it would be if his father appeared at the edge of the forest to wave his familiar wave. Paul was hurt that his father hadn't come. Why hadn't he come? Why hadn't he tried? Poor little Gussie! He knew what she'd be thinking. She'd be wanting her father, too. She thought he was the most wonderful man in the whole wide world. She'd be so terribly hurt to think that he had failed her.

And they were getting hungrier and hungrier and Harvey was bothering them all the time for something to eat. They just couldn't make him understand that he had to wait. Harvey argued that he'd rather be hungry later than hungry now. In the end they gave way and ate what they had, which was very little, and perhaps it was the wisest thing to do. At least once the food was gone they couldn't think about, or want it, and Harvey had to stop nagging.

At about midday the water was still rushing across the rock pan and still no one from the township had appeared at the forest fringe. They didn't say it aloud, but they were sure that Butch and Miss Godwin were dead. They were frightened and very, very worried. Why hadn't someone got through? Surely search parties were out? Surely they knew where to come? Everyone had known they were going to the caves. Perhaps over the distance and over the rumble of water on the rock pan it was expecting too much to hear voices or whistles or cooees,
but why hadn't they come?
Again and again they put to themselves that one unanswerable question. They couldn't get beyond the question to the reason.

‘You know,' said Adrian, ‘I remember my dad talking one night—to your father, I think, Paul—they were talking about what the children would do if they were left on their own to fend for themselves. You know what they said? They both said the same thing.'

‘What?'

‘They said we'd die.'

Paul shifted uncomfortably and found his eyes drawn to Frances. He suddenly thought how nice she looked, and how terrible it would be if she died. He began to feel a little sick.

‘What made you say that, Adrian?'

‘I dunno.'

‘Do you think we have been left on our own to fend for ourselves?'

‘I dunno.'

‘You don't really think it, do you, Adrian?'

Adrian hid his face in his hands. ‘I said I don't know.'

Paul began to lock and unlock his fingers and he could feel sweat on his forehead. It was hot, of course, but it wasn't that sort of sweat. He could feel the fear inside him mounting up; an awful feeling of aloneness began to shake him. He looked at Frances again and she was sitting with her back to a rock, sitting very stiffly, and one big tear was rolling down her cheek.

He looked away hastily, embarrassed, and saw Maisie and Gussie holding hands so tightly that their knuckles were white. Harvey was sniffling, trying hard to be the tough little fighter that he usually was.

‘Perhaps it wasn't the best thing to do,' Paul said slowly, ‘to sit here and wait. Perhaps we should have tried to get across to the other side. Do you think we should try now?'

‘They'll come for us,' whispered Gussie. ‘I just know they'll come.'

‘What do you think, Adrian?'

Adrian shook his head. ‘I don't think we could get across. I still think Maisie's idea is the best.'

‘We came into this cave yesterday morning. We've been here for more than twenty-four hours.' Paul sounded calm enough, but he was trembling at the brink of hysteria. ‘We've got to
do
something. We can't sit here. You know what I think? I think something terrible's happened. I think everyone's dead but us.'

It was out. He'd said it. He'd tried and tried not to say it, but he couldn't call it back, and Gussie's wail would have melted a heart of stone.

‘No!' shrieked Frances. ‘We mustn't cry!'

Gussie shook all over and fought down her despair. She wasn't frightened for herself—not then, anyway—she was thinking of her mother and her father and her baby brother. She felt destitute. Her whole world had vanished, because if that was what Paul thought it must be right. Paul was so sensible, so level-headed, and she was such a scatterbrain. Paul wouldn't have said it if he could have held it back any longer.

Little Harvey sat quite still, his eyes full of tears, his mouth open, drawing great shuddering gulps of air. All he wanted to do was to howl and suddenly he couldn't stop it. Frances dashed to him and held him tight, but couldn't bring herself to judge Paul too harshly, because she had been the one, yesterday, who had told Paul to face facts and admit them. Probably it was best that they should get it over and be done with it, because Paul and Adrian were surely right. Something terrible must have happened.

She was wiping Harvey's tears away when she looked up sharply and found that she was not the only one who had become alert. The boys, too, were looking to the sky, keenly aware of the sound that she herself had heard.

‘It is!' Paul cried. ‘It's an aeroplane!'

‘Where?'

‘Can't see it. Can anyone see it?'

They crowded towards the lip of the ledge and Adrian had sense enough to bellow. ‘Easy. You'll have us over the side.'

‘I can't hear an aeroplane.'

‘And neither can anyone else. You're making too much noise.'

They listened again and it was unmistakable—the roar of a big aeroplane somewhere, flying high.

Gussie squealed. ‘There it is!'

She pointed high into the north-east and one by one they picked it up, flashing in the sun.

‘What sort is it, Adrian? You know all about aeroplanes.'

‘I think it's a Lincoln.'

‘One of the bombers?'

‘Yeah. That's what it is, all right. A Lincoln. The Air Force.'

‘Golly! What would the Air Force be doing away out here?'

‘How should I know? I wish we could make a signal or something.'

‘How could we make a signal? We've got nothing that'll burn.'

‘And no matches, anyway.'

‘And he's miles and miles away. He'd never see.'

‘He's turning, isn't he?'

‘Yeah. And I can't hear his engines any more. Can you?'

They listened again and they could hear them, but they were burbling, making a funny sound.

‘Ooh!' said Harvey. ‘He's going to crash.'

‘He's gliding, stupid. That's what he's doing.
Coming down!
'

‘Are you sure, Adrian?'

‘Of course I'm sure. You can see for yourself. He's circling round and round.'

Maisie shouted, ‘We're going to be saved. Hooray! Hooray!' And then her voice faded. ‘Are we? He couldn't see us, could he? He'd never see us. He's miles and miles away.'

‘Too far away all right,' said Adrian. ‘You know where I think he is? I think he's going down to look at the town.'

Paul grunted breathlessly. ‘That's what I think, too. And it's never happened before, has it? It's never happened before because nothing terrible has ever happened before.'

They were very quiet again and they watched the aeroplane come lower and lower until it passed from their sight, until they heard its engines roar again, until they knew that it was circling the town at a very low altitude, going round and round and round.

One by one they sat near the lip of the ledge, and they were pale and frightened and unhappy. They knew now beyond the last doubt that something was wrong with their town, because the aeroplane went round and round and round and they didn't see it again for nearly half an hour. Then it rose up above the forest and went down through the valley in the south, no more than three miles from them, and vanished, following the course of the river, or the road that led to Stanley.

‘We've got to go,' Paul said flatly. ‘And no argument.'

He set the example himself, heaved Miss Godwin's haversack onto his back and looped the strap of his schoolbag through his belt. Then he looked at them all, and waited.

Adrian stared down into the rock pan. ‘I don't think we can get across.'

‘We'll never know if we don't try! And haven't you thought that they might need us in the town more than we need them here?'

‘Yes,' said Frances, ‘I've been thinking that myself.'

‘What could we do,' said Adrian, ‘a bunch of kids? That's what they call us. When we tried to help at the fire the year before last they sent us home. Even told Miss Godwin to go.'

‘It wasn't because they didn't want our help,' Frances explained quietly. ‘They didn't want us to get hurt.'

Adrian scowled. ‘I reckon grown-ups are a lot of crumbs. Nag, nag, nag at a fella all the time. Always interfering. Why
should
we have to cross the rock pan?'

Frances was shocked.

‘Oh, it's all right for you, Frances. Your father's not the boss. Your father's not the preacher. You don't know what it's like being lectured all day long.'

Paul was frowning. ‘You're talking through your neck. If you're scared why don't you say so? Why start abusing everyone?'

‘I'm not scared.' But he was. ‘What am I supposed to do,' he whined, ‘when my father says we'd die if we had to fend for ourselves? If that's all he thinks of us why should we care?'

‘All the more reason why you should. To prove that he was wrong.'

‘Your father said it, too.'

‘So what?'

Adrian shivered in his fright and his frustration; but there was more to it than that. He didn't hate his father. He didn't hate anyone. He didn't want to go back to the town because he was terrified of what he might find. If everyone were dead he didn't think he could face it.