Haunted Creek (21 page)

Erik felt a shudder pass through him when he opened Rose’s gate. Taking a deep breath, he marched up the path. Rose was outside on her own, writing a letter. She looked up and smiled and Erik’s heart turned over. This would not do. He tried to think of young Jenny, and failed.

‘Where’s Barrington?’ he demanded, and then listened to the echo of his own harsh words. ‘I’m sorry, Rose. I’ll start again. Good evening.’

Rose stood up gracefully; she moves smoothly always, he remembered, and carries herself well in spite of the heavy work. ‘Erik! It’s good to see you. Did you want Jasper? I’m afraid he’s gone home. He’s quite recovered.’

She had pretended to take his question at face value. How could a woman who had lived with a man, shared her life and her bed with him for weeks and months – without marriage, just like a common harlot, to be biblical about it – be so calm? She should be hiding her head in shame.

‘Barrington can wait,’ Erik said. He wanted to punch Barrington.

Rose was waiting politely, head on one side. Erik’s fists were clenched; he wanted to hit out. Had he always been so aggressive? He didn’t think so. He swallowed the rage with an effort, put aside the thought of Barrington as a lover. ‘We, Freda and I, need to ask a favour of you.’

Rose sat on the bench and patted the place beside her. She was wearing a soft green dress and she looked more beautiful than he remembered. ‘Sit down, Erik, it’s a long time since we met. Yes, I can help out at the school for a while, if Freda thinks I’m suitable. I was hoping you’d find a proper teacher.’

Erik relaxed a little. ‘It’s just for the rest of this term. I suppose you heard about it from Ada.’ Everyone knew Freda was ill, because news at a school spreads through the place like the measles.

‘I hope you’ll stay here today, Erik, don’t go off,’ Freda said the next morning. ‘Rose will need help. It’s a lot for her to take on.’

Rose went first to see Freda and was given the school register and a list of the classes and subjects for the day. Her eyes widened when she heard that the teacher had been looking after thirty
children
by herself. ‘That’s the problem,’ Erik said grimly. ‘If you can’t manage them all, I suppose I can take a few of them for geography. And you can let some of the girls sew, leave them to it.’

‘If they were all the same age it would be easy. But they’re all ages from five to fourteen,’ Freda pointed out.

Erik was still furious with Rose for being so naïve as to take up with Barrington, but he managed to hide it. To his surprise she went calmly through the day. First of all she called the children together and explained that she would be there in Mrs Jensen’s place until the end of term. ‘We all want Mrs Jensen to get well again, don’t we?’ Vigorous nods. ‘You can all help. If you work hard and try your best, Mrs Jensen won’t have to worry about you. Now, do you want to help?’

‘Yes, Mrs Teesdale,’ the children chorused. Quietly Rose gave them all tasks and divided them into the usual age groups. After that the school was so quiet that Erik looked in at mid morning. He found the fourteen-year-olds giving the five-year-olds a reading lesson.

‘A good way to learn is to teach,’ Rose said, smiling at him. ‘It’s so good to be back here, Erik. I wish I had trained as a teacher.’

A
FEW DAYS
later, Rose was alarmed to find she was to be left in sole charge of the school. ‘Mother’s going to Melbourne for a few weeks, to stay with her sister.’ Erik was looming in the doorway. ‘So you’d better see her about any problems with the school before she goes.’ He seemed to be talking to a point above her head; how different from the friendly Erik she had once known. What was the matter with the man?

Then the message sank in. Freda going away? She would have no one to advise her. A thread of panic ran up Rose’s spine. She was not a trained teacher; she had hardly any experience. To be running the school with the teacher sick next door was one thing, but to be on her own…. Rose lifted her chin. If Erik was distant there was no point in voicing her fears. ‘Thank you. I’ll see her at the lunch break.’

As so often these days, Rose looked out of the classroom window on to the scorched earth outside, where the boys were trying to play cricket in a cloud of dust. It was the end of November and already the green colours of spring had gone. Wattle Tree was dry as a bone, waiting for rain. A hot wind was sucking the last drop of moisture from the land.

Rose ate her lunch quickly and as she crossed the school yard she could smell smoke. For days the bush had been burning miles away in the hills, the scent carried on the breeze. She knocked rather timidly at Freda’s door, then walked in. The teacher was sewing and glanced up with a smile; she was on the mend, but still looked tired.

Rose stood by the window. ‘I’m worried about the risk of fire. Freda, what would you do if a bush fire came near the school?’

‘I do hope it won’t come to that. Erik says he’s seen distant fires in dry years, but never one that threatened the township.’ Freda put down her sewing. ‘I suppose if there was warning, parents would keep their children at home to look after them. But … well, Erik and I have talked about it. You know our big farm dam? I’d take all the children there and hope that we could be safe in the water. The banks are quite steep, so the fire should pass over the top. It does depend, of course, on how fierce the fire is – and also which way it comes. But I would never try to fight it, or save the buildings. The children … we have to look after them, that’s all.’

‘I worry about the piles of dry bark and dead branches
everywhere
that litter the ground, Freda. The school yard is clear, Erik keeps the whole place bare in summer. But it’s a worry. The only fires we saw in Yorkshire were on the moors, in the dry peat.’

Freda pointed to a chair. ‘Please sit down, Rose. I do apologize for leaving you alone with the school, but the doctor insists that I should go away for a while. You can call on Erik for help, of course, and one or two of the mothers could support you. I’m quite sure you are up to the job and it will be good experience,’ she finished brightly.

If she disagreed it would only worry the sick woman, so Rose smiled faintly. ‘I’ll do my best.’ Erik would be too busy keeping out of her way to be of any help.

Ten minutes left and the bell should be rung for the end of lunch. Rose moved uneasily and Freda looked at her. ‘What else, Rose? You’ve looked worried lately.’

Smoothing her dark blue school dress, Rose hesitated. ‘I was told that Luke might not be dead, he might have faked his death, to make a start somewhere else.’ She paused; it was still very painful to think of. ‘You remember Jim Carlyle came with Tom to see me that day? Well, I asked Jim to tell me about Luke’s death, but he says he saw nothing of the accident, or the burial. And Tom has gone away.’

Rather sadly, Freda said, ‘I suppose you’d like to marry again and you need to know whether you’re free.’

Rose felt hot. ‘Marriage is the last thing on my mind. I just – well, I can accept his death, but if Luke really has gone off
somewhere
… it’s a terrible thing to do to your wife. I need to know, Freda.’ This was about Luke and their life together and whether he had deliberately deserted her.

On her way to the door, Rose turned to say goodbye to Freda and the older woman said, ‘I – I should tell you that a few people expect you to marry Mr Barrington, so I thought that was it.’ The blue eyes were questioning.

Appalled, Rose felt herself turning brick red. So that was it. The gossips must have been busy. Maybe that story had affected Erik? ‘Of course not! He’s— He wants to marry someone else. He stayed with us because he was too sick to move, and now he’s well again.’ Anger was rising. ‘I did what I could to help him and I was pleased that he recovered. I’d do it all over again if need be. If Lordy hadn’t stayed in my cabin, he would be dead now.’ Without waiting for an answer, she stalked out of the room.

Back in the classroom, Rose forced herself to simmer down. Calm and quiet was what the children needed. Once they were all busy with new tasks, she had a few minutes to herself. So they still thought she was going to marry Lordy! Only time would prove them wrong, and even time might not repair her reputation.

Lord Barrington was regarded as a rogue by all sober citizens and he kept the worst company. But she could hardly tell people that he had saved her from rape or even murder by the eucy men, as well as saving Ada from a snake, and that she loved him like a favourite uncle. It would probably be misunderstood.

Maeve knew the man well, of course. She’d said that Lordy had found a job for Sean, the young Irish lad whose life he had saved, on a farm near Moe. ‘And him a Protestant, for all love, they’re often against the Irish. Jasper has a heart of gold, so he has. He’s taking Sean down to Moe this week.’ Maeve was sending a man
up the track to collect the produce, now that Rose was busy at the school, and the evening before she had come with him to see Rose.

The next day Erik drove his mother to Moe to catch the Melbourne coach and Rose was left alone with the school for the first time. She was kept very busy answering questions and smoothing out difficulties. The heat was intense and the sky was growing dark with smoke. It was not possible to see what was happening in the next valley; was the fire coming towards them? Mrs Watson at the store had told her that the smoke was coming from fires started by lightning strikes in the forest and that it was miles away.

As the air grew hotter and even drier, some parents came to collect their children with grim faces. Some of them took
neighbours
’ children as well. When Rose asked them how near the fire was, they tried to reassure her. ‘Can’t tell,’ said one sturdy settler. ‘It’s maybe not coming our way but we thought we’d better … we’re off to Moe for a few days to see my ma. There’s no stock on our farm just now.’ He looked at Rose and then said, ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Teesdale, it’s likely to die down by night. If the wind changes, and it surely will.’ He clopped off on a big working horse with his little boy perched in front of him.

It seemed a good idea to close the school early and she decided to send the children home at two o’clock. For the last hour, Rose called all the pupils together and read them chapters of
Coral Island
. There were only seven children left by then. They all found it hard to concentrate and little Ada kept glancing nervously out of the window. Fire was on their minds.

Rose was uncertain what to do. Should she send the remaining children home? It was hard to tell whether there was real danger, or just a distant fire on a hot day. She tried to concentrate on the story. The wind was rising.

The reading was interrupted when Mr Sawley, the neighbouring farmer, came in without knocking, his face a mask of worry.
‘Where’s Erik? I would have thought he’d have you oooout of here by now.’ Behind him through the open door Rose saw the sky was a livid red, not sunset but an eerie glow.

‘He’ll be on the way back from Moe,’ Rose told him quietly. ‘What do you think we should do? I was just about to send the
children
home … or if it’s too dangerous, we could jump in Jensens’ big watering hole.’ Her lack of experience was putting the children in danger. Why had she not acted earlier and sent them all home? The pupils’ eyes were large and round and they sat at their desks, absolutely still.

In the years at Haunted Creek, Rose had often seen fires in distant forests. At first they had scared her but she had got used to the smell of smoke on hot days. In spite of talking to Freda about it, she hadn’t realized that the emergency was here, and now. ‘Maybe we should go to the dam?’

Sawley tutted impatiently. ‘That won’t aaanswer, not this time. The fire’s coming across the ridge. Wattle Tree’s in line unless the wind changes, as faaar as I can tell. Every fire’s different – you have to guess. Best get down the creek as faaast as you can, take the children with you. Go down as faaar as you can to the river. I think the fire will come across the high grooound, it shouldn’t go into the valley.’ He paused and then said, ‘It’s a looot for you to do on your own, but I’ve got to stay here and save what I can. If any folks come for their children I’ll tell them where you’ve gone.’

Mr Sawley wasn’t sure where the fire would strike, so how should she know? Rose felt afraid. If they went down the creek, what then? Directions were hard to tell in this part of the world and she couldn’t imagine why Haunted Creek would be safer than Wattle Tree.

Rose thanked him and told the children calmly that they were going to walk along the creek. On the way they could call in at her hut. As they made their way down the track, the rising wind blew black ash over their heads, flakes of burnt bark and leaves. If any of
that ash carried sparks they could be in trouble. Apart from the dark red sky, they could see no other evidence of the fire and Rose had no idea how far away it was. It was over the ridge – it could be minutes away.

At the hut, Rose gave each child a drink of water and then changed from her blue school dress into an old black one. She tied a rope round her waist. The pupils took the rope in one hand and this made it seem more like a game to them.

‘Follow my leader,’ Rose said cheerfully as she saddled up Dougal. The smallest child, little Lizzie, could ride and Ada was proud to lead the donkey.

After a minute’s thought, Rose picked up the money she had saved and let the poultry and the goats out of their runs. A few eggs and vegetables went quickly into the donkey baskets and then they were off. It was more important to get the children to safety than to spend time packing up her possessions.

The strange procession picked its way down the track beside the creek as the sky grew darker and the wind rose again; it seemed to be following them down to the river. The mid-afternoon light was as dim as twilight. Rose kept glancing behind. They were all perspiring in the heat and as the fine black ash stuck to their faces and clothing, they were soon very dirty. ‘My ma’ll be angry,’ one girl said, looking at her once white pinafore.

‘Your mothers will all be pleased you are safe,’ Rose said firmly. ‘Let’s go a little faster, if we can. We’ll be able to wash our faces in the creek later on.’

They met no one on the track and the journey seemed to go on for hours. Birds flew over their heads, parrots and kookaburras, making for the river. Rose kept glancing at the creek, which was the usual shallow trickle of water after weeks of drought. Here and there were deeper pools and if the fire overtook them, they would need to jump in. ‘Can any of you swim?” she asked hopefully.

‘No, Mrs Teesdale,’ the pupils said, looking fearfully at the water.

Lizzie who was riding the donkey piped up, ‘My papa says you
should go in the water if the fire comes, so we’ll all get wet, Mrs Teesdale.’

‘So we will,’ said teacher calmly. ‘It will be nice and cool after this heat.’ Looking over her shoulder, she saw flames at the top of the ridge, leaping high into the air and playing in the tops of tall trees. It was the Noojee side of Wattle Tree, well alight. Would the little town be next? ‘See how many different kinds of birds you can count.’

The wind increased to a roar. Tall trees were thrashing about and branches were breaking and falling, each one of them lethal if it hit you. Trying not to panic, Rose looked ahead down the track and realized they were not far from the All Nations hotel. ‘Let’s try running, shall we?’ At least the building would give them some protection.

The children trotted obediently along, pushed by the hot wind behind them. It was darker than ever, but in the gloom Rose could see figures moving about. It would be good to be with other people, although it seemed to her that there was little any human being could do against the huge force of nature. Fires were natural here, the dark women had once told her, which was a good reason for not living anywhere permanently. You moved on and built a hut somewhere else.

Men with axes were chopping down trees and bushes round the hotel and others were spraying water over the roof and walls of the building with hoses. Maeve was supervising, dressed in black, and she swept Rose into her arms briefly before looking round the forlorn bunch of children. ‘You poor dears, come in and we’ll give you some lemonade.’ She looked at Rose and added, ‘You did well – Wattle Tree must have gone by now. Praise the saints, I think we’ll be safe here …’ Then she looked up and saw the flames advancing. ‘Have you seen Lordy? He went to Moe yesterday with Sean.’

The children trooped into the hotel and sat down obediently. Rose was glad to get them out of the danger under the trees. ‘Please
may we bring Dougal in, Mrs Malone?’ Ada pleaded at the door, but Maeve shook her head.

‘No donkeys in the bar, it’s not allowed,’ she said gently. ‘There’s a stable out there, he’ll be safe,’ she promised and Ada breathed a sigh of relief.

One of the men took the donkey, smiling through the grime on his face at the little girl. ‘She’ll be right, love,’ he said and Ada muttered that Dougal was a boy, not a girl.

Rose could not see how they would be safe, any of them. The pub was a large wooden building and it would go up like a torch if sparks ignited it. The men with hoses and buckets were working on, sweating profusely. ‘Got to save the pub,’ they joked. ‘Most important place in the district.’