Riddle Gully Secrets (4 page)

Hiding in the shadows, Will caught Pollo's eye and tapped his watch.

Will stepped into the beam cast by Pollo's torch as she approached the entrance to Diamond Jack's Trail. With the new moon just a sliver, the sky over the nearby meadow and cemetery was the colour of squid ink. The stars were so bright they seemed to pulse.

‘What took you so long?' said Will.

Pollo tossed her head. ‘Dad hasn't got the hang of texting on his new phone. He and Sherri are going somewhere on Sunday and Dad sent her a message offering to sick her up.'

Will frowned. ‘Hey?'

‘He meant
pick
her up.'

‘Whew, that's better!'

‘Yeah, so I had to help him sort it out. He's too wimpy to just ring her! Then he was all flustered, so he took
forever to nod off in front of the telly. I had to switch it over to
Celebrity Blind Date
to finish him off. What about you? Did you have any trouble getting away?'

‘Nup. HB and Angela went to play bridge at Principal Piggott's place. She never lets anyone leave till ten-thirty.'

‘Excellent!' said Pollo. ‘That gives us a good hour or so. Let's get going.'

Pollo, dressed in black from her beanie to her runners, led the way. Will, who'd swapped his thongs for lace-ups, followed close behind. They padded along the track, the forest creaking and rustling around them. They left the main trail and pushed on towards the firebreak, their legs scraping through the scrub. When it seemed they were close, Pollo switched off the torch.

They waited as their eyes adapted to the dark. An owl took off overhead and glided silently to a higher branch. Trees crackled as the heat of the day ebbed from their limbs.

Gradually another sound – like gumnuts falling on a tin roof – trickled through the trees from the direction of Ash's camp. They crept closer along the track, synchronising their steps, one slow footfall at a time.
Looking over his shoulder, Will had to shove away the feeling that some large animal, possibly with stripes and fangs, was padding silently alongside. Eventually the campsite came into view amid its ghostly backdrop of trees. They eased through the scrub to a patch where they could see and hear.

Scarecrow-man was sitting cross-legged by the fire. The falling-gumnut sound was coming from a tiny guitar he held in his sinewy hands. He was picking its strings gently in a simple drifting tune, a dreamy smile on his face. Behind him in the tent, just above ground level, was a flickering glow. Ash's face and forearms were silhouetted in the wavering light.

‘Ash must be playing on her iPad,' whispered Pollo. ‘I wonder why she kept it hidden before.'

‘Is Scarecrow-man playing a toy?' whispered Will.

‘It's a ukulele – Sherri's got one.'

Scarecrow-man was still playing the ukulele when he rose to his feet. His back to the tent, he stretched deeply, first to one side and then the other. He arched backwards till he could see the ground behind him. Suddenly, mid-pluck, he stopped playing, his upside-down face towards the tent. He hung there motionless, his ponytail swaying. The light from Ash's tablet suddenly disappeared.

‘Ash knows he's watching her,' whispered Pollo.

‘I know how she feels,' said Will. ‘I've got it again – that feeling that something else is out there.'

‘Put it aside!' hissed Pollo. ‘We need to concentrate.'

Scarecrow-man circled the tent on tiptoes, his bare feet feeling out the ground, peering at the now-dark canvas. Scratching his head, he walked back to the fire and sat down, this time facing the tent. He lifted his ukulele and resumed his tune.

He was a few bars along when, once more, the inside of the tent swelled with a soft glow. Once again, he padded to the tent, this time keeping on with his tune. He crouched next to where, on the other side of the canvas, Ash's head would be. Only then did he stop playing and rest his ukulele on his knees. The light inside shut off instantly. Scarecrow-man tilted his head to the stars and gazed as though studying each one, as though hoping something would descend from the heavens.

From the shadows on the bank above, Pollo and Will looked on. And from a place beyond, higher and darker, another pair of eyes gazed down upon them all.

After a moment, Scarecrow-man leaned towards the wall of the tent and called to the figure which seconds before had been silhouetted in a glow.

‘You there?' In the still night air his voice rose clearly to Pollo and Will, hiding in the bushes.

‘Course I'm still here!' Ash's voice was muted but still discernible.

Scarecrow-man shifted on his haunches excitedly. ‘I saw it just then, you know!'

‘What do you mean?' There was a nervous squeak to Ash's voice.

‘I should have seen it coming!'

‘Seen what exactly?'

‘When I was a kid I'd come camping around here with my old man and my Uncle Jim.'

‘Yeah, you've told me that a thousand times!'

Scarecrow-man smiled. ‘Even as a little tacker I felt that this area was special to our family. And now finally I see why. Your grandfather's disappearance, our ancestor Fergus's miraculous escape – it all fits!' Scarecrow-man leaned close to the canvas. He spoke in a near-whisper. ‘I saw the lights in there with you. It's a bit scary, I imagine, but it's okay.'

‘What lights? What's okay?'

‘That you're communicating with them.'

‘Communicating with who? The internet reception here's terrible!' There was a brief silence. ‘Or so I've heard.'

‘Who's talking about the internet? I'm talking about beings from the cosmos.'

‘No, stop it right there! You can't be serious.'

‘You're the only one joking round here. The internet indeed!' Scarecrow-man laughed. ‘Next thing you'll be telling me you've got a laptop computer in there. I thank the stars every day that we don't have one of those devils in our lives.'

‘I haven't got a … a
laptop
.' The voice sounded forlorn. ‘Or a mobile phone.'

‘And that's why when the cosmos reaches out to us our minds are still, our senses are clear and uncluttered;
we are open to receive what it offers – in your case, to form friendships with those out there.'

‘Friendships? I haven't even got any Earth-friends yet!'

‘Everything in its time. There's no schedule to these things.'

‘Anyway, what's our ancestor's escape and Grandpa's accident got to do with anything? Grandpa fell down a manhole in the main street of Wobblegong! Coming home from the pub on Melbourne Cup day! You told me.'

‘And returned to us three days later an enlightened man.'

‘An enlightened man who claimed he'd been taken by aliens.'

‘Not taken by them – met them,' said Scarecrow-man. ‘And very pleasant folk they were too, by his account. Seeing you communicating with them just now makes me look at what happened to your grandpa differently. I don't know why I never thought of it before. They opened the door and asked him in. It wasn't a manhole he fell into – it was a portal!'

‘A what?'

‘A portal! A doorway to another world. Had to have been! And I see now it must have been a portal years ago that enabled our ancestor Fergus Smith to escape those
troopers chasing him. Right near here! Maybe in this very spot! Surrounded by dangerous men, he was, and –'

‘I know, I know, you've told me the story a zillion times.'

‘– and your great-great-great-grandfather Fergus Smith vanished into thin air! A portal! It's the only explanation!'

‘We hardly know a thing about what happened to Fergus! And the people who went down the manhole looking for Grandpa –
they
didn't enter another world. They popped right back up again!'

‘That's because they weren't invited,' said Scarecrow-man. ‘The portal wasn't open to them.'

‘You're making this up as you go along!'

‘We make up
life
as we go along.' A log on the fire shifted, spraying tiny sparks. ‘It's funny. My whole life I've wondered what's out there; what else there is beyond the speck we call our solar system; beyond what we know as fact. I thought it was just the lovely memories drawing me back to this place. But now I see it was more … a lot more.'

Scarecrow-man stroked the strings of the ukulele resting on his knee, making an eerie zizzing sound. ‘Our family has a connection to the cosmos – a gift – and this special place is where that gift can flourish. It's the only
thing that makes sense. The gift has passed me by, which is a shame, but you're one of the lucky ones!'

There was a groan from inside the tent. ‘Unbelievable! You know, that light – it could have been from a … a … torch.'

‘Maybe,' said Scarecrow-man, ‘if we owned a torch.' He chuckled. ‘It's just like you to be modest.' He levered himself to his feet. ‘It's a lot to take in, I can see that. I'll leave you to think about it.'

Scarecrow-man moved away towards the fire. Halfway he stopped, laid his ukulele on the ground and extended both arms to the night sky, his fingers stretching, his smile bright in the fireglow. He held them there for a minute or more before lowering them with a deep satisfied sigh.

He doused the fire with sand. In front of the entrance flap of the tent, he flipped a swag onto the ground. He picked up his uke, lay down and wriggled into his bed. Any night visitors, alien or human, would have to step right over him. Resting the uke on his chest, he began slowly and softly to play, his eyes closed, his smile hovering.

Pollo nudged Will and nodded back to the main trail. If Ash needed rescuing, it wasn't going to happen tonight.

Early next morning, while a sheen of moisture still clung to the bushes along Diamond Jack's Trail, Pollo and Will picked their way through the forest to the burnt-out red gum where Ash Swift had stashed her clothes. They found a spot among the bushes where they'd see her before she saw them.

‘I don't get it,' said Will. ‘Why didn't Ash just tell him the glow was coming from the iPad? I mean, what's the big deal?'

‘Keep quiet and you can ask her yourself. She could be along any minute.'

‘I still reckon we should just stroll up to their camp and ask them what they're on about,' said Will, twisting away a spiky branch that was poking him in the neck.

‘We wouldn't get any answer we could trust.' Pollo
kept her voice low. ‘Scarecrow-man has Ash under his control somehow. She doesn't seem very happy, but she doesn't seem to think she's in danger either. And all that kooky talk about gifts that ran in the family – she didn't deny the family bit.'

‘Maybe he's some black sheep uncle who's popped up from the past. Or maybe he really is a stranger who's brainwashed Ash into thinking they're related.'

‘It's a long shot but it's possible,' said Pollo. ‘What I do know is that she stuffed her new clothes into a log here rather than wear them back to camp. That's why we stay put. She'll come back – alone – for those clothes and when she does we can fluster her into spilling the beans!'

‘Hey! Speaking of food …' Will unzipped his backpack and pulled out a brown paper bag. It was shiny with dark fatty patches.

‘What are you doing?' said Pollo.

‘It's a stakeout, isn't it?' said Will. ‘On TV shows, detectives always stuff their faces on stakeouts. Bacon sandwiches! HB made them. There's one for you too.'

‘But we've only just had breakfast.'

‘But we might be here for hours.'

‘So why eat all your supplies now?'

‘I'd rather carry them in my stomach than on my back. Simple.'

Will bit into his sandwich and was licking bacon fat off his hand when cockatoos squawked and flurried overhead from the direction of Diamond Jack's Trail. They heard whistling – human whistling – through the trees. And the rustle of two legs pushing through undergrowth.

Will was about to top up his mouthful when Pollo whipped the sandwich from his hands and shoved it into his backpack.

‘It's her!'

‘But I can still eat my …' His protests shrivelled under Pollo's glare.

Ash, shaggy hair flopping from side to side, appeared. She was carrying her canvas bag and wearing the same bright long baggy pants and orange T-shirt of the night before. She retrieved the new clothes she'd stashed in the hollow log and disappeared behind the curve of burnt tree trunk.

Pollo and Will held still. When Ash reappeared in the white polo and grey school shorts, they sprang from the bushes. Ash leapt in the air.

‘It's okay,' said Pollo quickly. ‘We're here to help you.'

‘No you're not,' said Ash, picking up her things that had scattered on the ground. ‘You're here to … to …' She looked like she wanted to run but something held her
back. ‘Say! What's that smell?'