The Audrey of the Outback Collection (3 page)

‘And can I have some rope?’

Eight

Audrey’s mother stood at the kitchen bench with both hands plunged into a cut-down kerosene tin of water. She was soaking a kangaroo leg. Meat had to be salted to stop it going bad, but too much salt made it chewy and horrible to eat. Soaking the meat before cooking made it much tastier.

Kangaroo wasn’t Audrey’s favourite food. It was dark and strong-tasting.

‘Toothless says thanks for the eggs and he’s coming down later to do a job for you, Mum, and can I have a saucepan?’

said Audrey. Then she added, ‘What’s that noise?’

Mrs Barlow pushed the kangaroo leg deeper into the water. ‘Douglas is being a kookaburra in the bedroom.’

‘Oh. So can I have a saucepan,
please
?’

‘Are you going to help me cook?’

Audrey shook her head. She wasn’t ready to explain. Mum might cry. Imagining her mother in tears made Audrey’s eyes sting with sympathy.

‘Have you forgotten the chookyard?’ Mrs Barlow reminded her gently.

‘No. I haven’t forgotten. I’ll do it later. Promise. So can I have a saucepan?’

‘Yes, but don’t put dirt in it or dent it.’

‘I won’t.’ Audrey went over to the fireplace. She thought hard for moment. If she chose the smaller saucepan that would leave the big ones for her family. She stood on tiptoe and grabbed a blackened pan from a hook, then plonked it on the wooden table. ‘And can I have some rope?’

‘How
much
rope?’

‘I have to check something first, then I’ll know.’

‘I look forward to hearing your plans.’

Audrey dashed into the little bedroom she shared with Douglas. Price had a room of his own. It was an iron lean-to at the side of the house, hot in summer and cold in winter. But Price liked it because he didn’t have to share, and he had a door that opened to the outside, not into the main house.

Douglas sat on the kangaroo-skin rugs with his elbows out. ‘
Kookookaakaa.
’

Audrey gripped one end of her mattress and thin blanket and began rolling them up, along the bed frame.

Douglas jumped up and threw himself on the mattress, giggling.

‘Hop off, Dougie. I can’t do this if you’re lying on it.’

‘Pway a game.’

‘You’re a bird. Birds don’t play games.’

He lay still, looking at her with a cheeky spark in his eyes. ‘
Kookookaakaa.
’

She lifted the end she had rolled so far and tried to flick Douglas off. His giggles became a squeal. Then he leapt off the bed and ran around the room, flapping his arms.

Audrey found her mattress harder to roll up than she expected. And not just because of the interruption from the ‘Douglas bird’. Mum had recently re-stuffed the mattress with fresh grasses so it was plump. As the grasses dried out, it would flatten. She glanced longingly at her chook-feather pillow. It would have to stay. She could only carry so much at once.

‘
Kookookaakaa
,’ said Douglas, even louder than before.

Audrey wrapped both arms around her mattress and blanket to carry them through the doorway. But the bedroll was too wide and she bounced backwards. Refusing to give up, she threw it over her left shoulder and carried it into the kitchen. She dumped the bedroll on the table, next to the saucepan, and hoped it wouldn’t slip off.

Arms flapping, Douglas followed Audrey.

Mrs Barlow stared at Audrey but didn’t ask questions. She dried her hands on her apron, then began selecting potatoes from the hessian bag in the corner.

Audrey returned to the bedroom, relieved that Douglas had stayed in the kitchen to flap around in there. She reached under her bed until her fingers touched metal and she pulled out a large tin decorated with a red and green parrot. Her cousin, Jimmy, had sent the tin from the city. It had been full of biscuits. Real biscuits. Ones he had bought in a shop, and they had all been the same size and shape. They’d been eaten a long time ago, but Audrey loved the tin almost as much as she had loved the crunchy sweet biscuits.

The tin was even more special now because it held treasure.

Nine

Audrey sat on the bare planks of her bed and opened the lid of the tin.

Price kept a collection of birds’ eggshells on a length of string in his lean-to bedroom. Audrey collected her things in the tin.

Inside was a book called
Martin Rattler
. Jimmy had left it for her when he went back home to live with his dad in Adelaide. Cousin Jimmy had stayed with them for a year when his dad got into trouble. Audrey wasn’t sure what sort of trouble. Her parents didn’t talk about it.
Martin Rattler
was about a boy who had adventures at sea. Audrey couldn’t picture water that stretched so far that no one could see the end of it.

There was also an eagle feather. She stroked it gently.

Then she unwrapped her green emu egg from its soft cloth. Dad once told her emus could foretell the weather. If there was going to be a drought they wouldn’t lay eggs.

There were two pink quartz stones lying next to the emu egg. Audrey picked one up and turned it over, watching it glint.

Next, she scooped up her five sheep knucklebones, tossed them in the air and turned her hand over. Two knuckles landed on the back of her hand. The other three fell into the tin. She let the knucklebones she’d caught drop beside the others.

There was a tattered diary, another gift from her cousin Jimmy. It was maroon with the year 1930 written in black letters on the front. Every page up till the end of March was crammed with Audrey’s large, uneven handwriting and drawings.

She couldn’t leave the diary behind. There were so many of her private thoughts written in there. Things she didn’t want to share—or forget. And what if Price saw she’d described him as having ‘a head like a robber’s dog’? That was after an argument, so she’d been cross with him. Although it was true—he often did look like a dog. Especially when he hadn’t combed his hair. But usually he looked like a nice, friendly dog.

‘
Kookaakookaaa
,’ Douglas burst out.

Audrey jumped. Absorbed in her treasures, she hadn’t noticed him sneaking in. He was on his hands and knees on the kangaroo-skin mat.

He flapped feebly, pretending he was still playing birds. But the look of curiosity on his face suggested he wanted to know what she was doing.

Audrey glared at him. ‘What are you up to, Dougie?’

‘Kooka hungwy,’ said Douglas.

‘Kookaburras eat worms and snakes.’ Audrey replaced the lid on her treasure tin.

Douglas’s arm-wings drooped.

‘They whack them on the ground first,’ said Audrey, ‘to kill them.’

‘I’m a boy now, not a kooka.’

Audrey carried her tin out to the kitchen and added it to the growing pile on the table. The square tin would be awkward to carry, but she couldn’t leave it behind. ‘Mum,’ she said. ‘I need the rope now.’

Her mother looked up from the potato she was peeling with a small knife. ‘Now would be a good time to explain, dear.’

Audrey hesitated. Her idea had come so easily. Sorting through her things hadn’t been so hard either. But telling her mother about her plan was going to be awkward.

‘I’ll visit sometimes so you won’t miss me too much,’ she began.

Douglas scampered into the kitchen. ‘Want to eat boy food. I’m hungwy.’

Mrs Barlow ignored him. ‘Audrey, why am I going to miss you?’

‘I’m leaving, to be a swaggie.’

Ten

Mrs Barlow looked at the things on the kitchen table, then at Audrey.

Audrey’s heart was beating hard.

‘Well. If you’ve made up your mind, there’s not a lot I can do,’ said Mum. ‘I wouldn’t want to hold you back.’

Audrey’s knees felt weak with relief. She hadn’t wanted an argument just before leaving home.

‘Want some tucker before you go?’ her mum asked. ‘And a cup of tea? It’s no fun walking a long way on an empty stomach. And then there’s the weight you’ll have to carry.’

Audrey nodded.

Douglas jiggled up and down on his bare feet. ‘Hungwy.’

‘How about you set the table and get out the jam, Audrey?’ her mum said. ‘I’ll slice the bread and make a pot of tea.’

‘Bwed,’ said Douglas.

Suddenly Audrey realised it might be a long time before she saw her little brother again. She would miss the way Douglas flung himself at her legs and hung on, and the funny way he talked. And he was so adorable when he was asleep.

Mrs Barlow opened the back door and called out, ‘Hungry, Price?’

Price yelled back that he wanted to finish stretching the rabbit skins.

Audrey picked up her mattress from the table and put it on the floor. Then she added the saucepan and tin of treasures. There wasn’t room on the table for her swaggie’s gear
and
morning tea.

Carefully, she placed three white teacups on their saucers, then added a clean teaspoon. She took three plates from a shelf and put them on the table. Audrey often set out the plates, but usually she paid no particular attention to it. Today was different. This could be the last time she did it. She noticed how smooth and cool the saucers were, the shape of the cup handles, and the clack as she sat them on the wooden table. The pot of jam was heavy and, when she removed the lid, she could smell sweet plums.

Mrs Barlow set down a plate of thickly-sliced bread and a pot of tea.

The moment she spread jam on Douglas’s bread, he grabbed it and took a bite. He dropped it back on his plate and hopped down, jumped about, climbed back up on his chair for another bite, then ran back to the bedroom.

‘He’s having an emu’s smoko. A drink and a look around,’ said Mrs Barlow. ‘So, Audrey, where are you headed?’

Audrey didn’t know exactly, but she didn’t want to say so. ‘Um …’ She waved her jam-smeared knife. ‘That way.’

Mrs Barlow poured two cups of tea from a large teapot. ‘What’s that way?’

‘Um … things to find. Adventures.’

‘Now that you’re leaving,’ said her mum, ‘we might bring Price back into the house. He can have your bed.’

Audrey felt her chest tighten. She didn’t want someone else sleeping on her bed, or storing their special things under it.

‘What will you cook in the saucepan?’

Audrey wiped plum jam from her lip. ‘Whatever I can find. Kangaroo, possum, maybe rabbit or a bird …’

Although cockatoos were not such a good idea. Her dad had told her a story about a swagman who was so hungry he cooked a cockatoo. The swagman put a rock in the water with the cocky, then boiled it until the rock was soft. Only then was the cocky ready to eat.

‘You’ll need a trap and a sharp knife to catch rabbits,’ said Mrs Barlow.

Audrey frowned. She hadn’t thought about having to catch her food and kill it. At home, Mum, Dad or Price took care of that. ‘Maybe I’ll eat plants.’

‘I could never work out which things are all right to eat in the bush. Quandongs are good for jam and tarts, of course. But things like paddymelons …’ Mrs Barlow shook her head. ‘If horses eat them, they can go blind.’

‘Dad told me you watch what the birds eat.’

Mrs Barlow reached for a thick slice of bread. ‘Yes, of course you can. But sometimes birds are able to eat things that upset human stomachs. If you’re not sure, you can eat just a little of anything new, then wait to see if you become sick. If you do, then you know not to eat more.’

Audrey felt her enthusiasm for the swaggie’s life begin to fade. But her things were already stacked along the wall. She had announced she was leaving. She couldn’t back out now.

Eleven

When Audrey had a high fever, her mum had brought her broth to sip and laid cool damp cloths on her forehead. She’d fanned Audrey to make a cool breeze. Out in the bush, on her own, there would be no one to do those things for her.

‘You’re a brave girl.’ Mrs Barlow spread jam on her bread, then sipped her tea. ‘I’m sure you have a plan to protect yourself against dingoes and snakes. And then there are the mosquitoes. But you know how to rub your skin with animal fat or crushed ants’ nest to stop the mozzies biting you. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Too bad the mozzies are so awful at the moment.’

Audrey didn’t like snakes. And she didn’t fancy the idea of sharing her bedding with something that had fangs.

Mrs Barlow shook her head. ‘I couldn’t face being alone in the bush and having to cut a lump out of my own leg because a snake bit me.’

Audrey’s stomach tightened. ‘I won’t be alone, exactly. Stumpy will come too.’

‘Ah.’

Sometimes grown-ups said more with those sounds than they did with real words.

‘Have you asked Stumpy if he
wants
to go?’ asked her mum.

‘He always goes where I go.’ Audrey looked down at her half-eaten bread. She wasn’t hungry any more.

‘I’ll pack you supplies,’ said Mrs Barlow. ‘When the bread goes hard, you can soak it in water.’

Many mornings, Audrey woke to the smell of freshly-baked bread. Her mum baked it in the outdoor oven Dad made from crushed ants’ nest and wire netting. There would be no fresh bread in the bush.

And where would she find water? She knew to watch for the places where white cockatoos gathered at sunset. Her dad said cockatoos had to drink every day because they ate dry seeds. But it might take days to walk between billabongs. A long spell with no rain might dry up those billabongs, and
then
what would happen?

Only a little while ago, her idea of being a swaggie had been exciting. It meant not having to do chores like cleaning out the chookyard. It meant no brothers to annoy her, no one telling her what to do. She could spit whenever she felt like it. And she could lie under a starry sky figuring out important things like, Where does the wind start? Why don’t dingoes bark? Is it better to be a sheep or a cow?

But now Audrey realised there were other things she hadn’t thought about.

‘You probably need a bit of time to get used to the idea,’ she said. ‘Mothers would, I reckon. I don’t have to leave today. I could wait till tomorrow … or another day.’

‘It’s kind of you to think of me. Especially when you’re ready to go.’

Audrey sat bolt upright. ‘I know. I’ll camp outside tonight, at the back of the house. You won’t need to worry because you’ll know I’m really close.’