Finch, page 9
Moments later they were all in the kitchen, laughing and talking, amazed that they’d beaten the weather. Mum made tea and piled currant buns and shortbread fingers on plates, and everyone ate hungrily. Dad flung open the window to let in some cooler air. The smell of wet earth and soaked dry grass filled the room. Mum turned on the jug again to make more tea.
Then, “Rain’s stopped,” said Audrey.
Everyone stopped talking and listened, waiting, heads cocked, like birds. In the silence outside, the sound of the electric jug was very loud. The sun shone brightly, but in seconds the kitchen was dark again.
The first crack on the tin roof was like a hurled stone, the impact shocking in the silence. Then came another. Crack. Then another, and another, faster. Crack-crack-crack. The hurled stones became machine-gun fire.
Audrey raced to the window. “It’s hailing golf balls!” she shouted. “Look!”
In the backyard, hailstones were bouncing on brick paving, ripping through tree branches, shredding leaves, smashing plants into the ground. A small white form bolted across the open space, ears back, body low to the ground, dodging and weaving to avoid the ricocheting balls of ice.
“Freddy!” called Chloe. She ran to the back door and held it open.
The cat was drenched, his flattened wet fur revealing his surprisingly thin body and rabbity head. He streaked into the kitchen, settled down beneath the table and started to lick himself dry.
Standing outside, sheltering under the back verandah, Audrey watched, open-mouthed, while everything was enveloped by an explosion of noise. Chloe came out to join her. “Isn’t it awesome?” she said. But the storm was as brief as it was fierce, and in less than a minute it was gone, leaving behind heaped drifts of ice. Steam rose as wetness evaporated from the warm paving bricks.
“Wow,” said Audrey. “Lucky we got the grapes in. Imagine what the vines look like now.”
A metal watering can that had been left outside was tipped onto its side, a buckled mess. The cover of the rainwater tank was pocked with marks like bullet holes. Hailstones had pelted the finch cage, leaving a long crack in the wooden roof. Inside, on the top perch, the four remaining Marx Brothers huddled close together, their pecking order forgotten.
The back door creaked and banged as the others came outside to look.
“Never seen anything like that,” said Bill Brewer. “Thank the lord I got my crop in, is all I can say. I’d better get on home to check the damage.”
“Me too,” said Mavis. “My Daphne’s probably having kittens. Last time we had a storm she ended up under the quilt on my bed, poor old girl, and when she’s scared she wets herself, unfortunately. It’s rough on animals, isn’t it? They can’t understand what’s going on. Mind you,” she added, “weather like we’ve had today isn’t natural. Make no mistake, it’s because the world’s warming up. People who don’t think climate change is happening are kidding themselves.”
There was a murmur of agreement, and then Mum and Dad shook hands with Bill Brewer, and both of them hugged Mavis. “Thanks,” said Dad. “We’d never have got the crop in on our own. Mavis, you must have had a lot on your mind recently, with your brother passing away, and we appreciate your help all the more. If Caroline and I can repay the favour–”
Mavis waved his words away. “Happy to do it,” she said. “It’s what neighbours are for. Come on, Bill. Let’s see what little surprises Mother Nature has left for us.”
*
During the night, Audrey woke to hear rain hammering down on the roof, a steady downpour. It sounds so good, she thought sleepily. Rain wasn’t exciting and destructive like hail. It was friendly and comforting, and promised good things: an overflowing rainwater tank, green grass, growth and freshness. The creek would run strongly again, and the waterhole would be properly full. Finch would like that.
The storm had finally driven away the sultry stuffiness, and the air was deliciously cool. Audrey pulled her quilt up around her ears. Her muscles ached pleasantly. Snug in her bed, listening to the drumming of the raindrops, she fell asleep again. And the rain kept falling.
CHAPTER 17
Audrey had barely crawled out of bed late on Sunday morning when Dad came stomping into the kitchen, his shirt soaked, his boots making dirty wet marks on the floor tiles. The rain had settled to a fine drizzle: outside the window everything looked misty. The glory vine on the back verandah was hung with raindrops.
“Ian, boots off, please!” Mum was fussing around like a wet hen. “I washed this floor only two days ago! Look at the mud you’re bringing in!”
“Bad Dad,” Chloe said cheekily, looking up from her bowl of toasted muesli.
Dad snorted, but he kicked his boots off and slung them out through the back door. “Well, it’s all over,” he said. “The guys from the winery have come and picked up our bins, and that’s that. Next time we see those grapes they’ll be in a bottle of some very fine wine.”
“Oh, that is good news,” said Mum. “All the hard work rewarded. We hope. Did you settle on a final price with the winery?”
“Yes, and not too bad either. Enough to tide us over, at least.” He cut a thick slice of bread and put it in the toaster, holding his hands over the top to warm them. “You won’t believe how cold it is outside now. The temperature has dropped around fifteen degrees, just like that. One of the winery guys reckons the creek broke its banks last night and the ford down the road’s flowing at a couple of metres. We should go down to have a look later.”
Mum went over to the kitchen bench to make coffee. “How much rain did we have? It didn’t sound as if it let up all night.”
“It didn’t. We’ve had over seventy millimetres – a massive amount for this time of year.”
“Nice for the garden,” Mum said. “Although it’ll take a while to recover from the storm damage, I suppose. I haven’t been out yet to see how bad that is.”
Audrey still felt sleep-fuddled. She poured herself a glass of orange juice, and watched as the condensation trickled slowly down the side of the glass.
“Did you say something about the creek, Dad?”
“Yeah. The bin guy says it’s flooded. Running a banker, he said.”
“Wow. Can we go see?”
“Sure. Right after breakfast.”
“Cool.”
*
Wearing raincoats and last winter’s rubber boots, they set off for the ford. Tiny streams flowed down the road embankments, and tree branches, their leaves heavy with water, hung low. Both sides of the dirt road were crumbly with gravel washouts, and its pounded surface was slick and slippery.
“Watch out!” called Dad as Chloe skidded a couple of steps and only saved herself from falling by clutching his sleeve.
“Watch out yourself,” Chloe yelled back. She grabbed a low-hanging branch and shook it, showering Dad with drops. Dad pulled back the branch and ripped off handfuls of leaves, stuffing them down the back of Chloe’s coat. She squealed, ran and slid into Mum.
“Really, Ian, how old do you think you are?” said Mum, but her voice wasn’t angry. Then they were all showering each other with dripping branches, throwing handfuls of leaves and wet grass, and laughing themselves silly.
Mum took Dad’s arm. Audrey took Mum’s other arm, and Chloe took hers, and they all walked down the road together.
Audrey leaned into her mother. “Happy, Mum?” she asked.
“Happier,” Mum said. And then she smiled and said, “Much happier.”
They passed Mavis’s house, all its garden ornaments washed by rain and shining in the weak sunlight. From behind the house came a distant clucking as a hen announced a newly laid egg.
Big puddles stretched across Mavis’s front garden, and the birdbath with its patient fishing gnome was full to the brim.
Audrey pointed at him. “You think he might catch something now, Chlo?”
“I hope so. I kinda like that little guy.”
They could hear the water before they saw it: a low rushing, gurgling sound. Then they rounded the bend.
Mavis and Daphne were already at the ford. Daphne wore a tartan dog coat, and Mavis was wearing an ancient Driza-Bone, her hair hidden beneath a plastic hood.
Mavis grinned toothlessly at them. “Morning, all. This isn’t something you see every day, is it?”
The ford had turned into a muddy lake that reached high up the road on either side. At its centre was a powerful surge of rapidly flowing water, eddying grass and sticks and caramel-coloured froth. Occasionally a bit of wood or rubbish floated past, and as they watched, a large torn-off gum-tree branch made its majestic way downstream, turning slowly in the current.
Everyone exclaimed at the quantity of water.
Audrey: “Wow!”
Chloe, with a delighted shudder: “Awesome!”
Mum: “Who would think this could happen to our little creek?”
Dad: “It’s certainly been one hell of a downpour.”
Mavis, looking serious: “The creek’ll be busting its banks everywhere. It’s a proper big flood this time.”
Wait – didn’t Mr Scardino say something about caves flooding? Audrey felt a prickle of fear. She turned to Mavis. “Is the whole creek like this?”
“Oh, for sure.” Mavis’s voice was rather muffled without her teeth. “I’ve seen it happen before. You get a real heavy rain like this and the creek bed can’t handle it, and then bingo – you’ve got a flash flood.”
“But the creek doesn’t stay flooded. The water all drains into the sea, doesn’t it?”
“That’s right. It’ll be gone in a day or so. You wouldn’t want to be living too near the creek right now, though.” She bent down and gave Daphne a slap on her flank. “Up you get, old girl. This dampness won’t be doing your arthritis any good.”
Daphne heaved herself up, gave herself a good shake and looked trustingly up at her owner.
Audrey couldn’t speak. If the whole creek was up, it must have flooded the cave. And if it had – what had happened to Finch?
“I’m going home,” she said. “I need to check something.” She began to jog back up the road, slipping and sliding in the mud, trying not to panic.
Soon there were splashy footsteps behind her. “Aud, what’s up? Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
Audrey slowed down. Should she tell Chloe? This might be an emergency, and if it was, then people would have to know about Finch. On the other hand, if he was all right, and she told people about him, then she would have betrayed him. But, oh, surely Chloe could keep a secret. Finch would understand, wouldn’t he? … If he was still alive. Oh God. She had to tell Chloe. She simply had to.
“You know that cave I thought I saw down the creek? By the crooked tree? I’ve been there, sorry, I couldn’t tell you, I promised, and someone’s living in it. They could be in danger from the flood–”
“Don’t walk so fast, Aud! What are you talking about? Who’s living there?”
“A friend of mine. Remember the fox terrier that came round to our place? It belongs to him.”
“What? You’ve got a friend? A boyfriend? What’s his name?”
“Finch. And he’s not a boyfriend.”
“Finch?”
Audrey waved her arms in irritation. “Stop repeating everything I say! It doesn’t matter what his name is. The thing is, he could be in danger. We’ve got to get to the cave, quickly!”
CHAPTER 18
They had to go back to the farm to reach the creek where it curved through their property. The long wet grass lashed their legs as they ran.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” panted Chloe. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I promised Finch I wouldn’t,” said Audrey, between breaths. “It might have got him into trouble.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“I can’t say.”
Chloe plunged after her. “What if he’s – I mean, what if the flood–”
“We just have to check it out.” Audrey flung the words over her shoulder. “The cave’s probably well above water-level. It’s quite a bit higher than the creek bed, isn’t it?”
“Is it? I can’t remember. Aud, slow down! He’ll be okay, don’t stress.”
“Oh, Chlo, I hope you’re right.”
Chloe stumbled, almost falling. “Don’t go so fast! I can’t keep up. And my boots are eating my socks.”
“Forget your stupid boots. Come on!”
The creek bed had disappeared beneath a surging torrent the colour of milky tea. They raced along the bank until they reached the boundary fence. Here they pulled up, breathing hard.
The distant crooked tree that grew above the cave was the only landmark Audrey recognised. Beneath it there was a swirling mass of water.
Audrey felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. This was worse, far worse, than she’d expected.
Chloe grabbed her hand. “Aud, what – what if that boy is still, you know, in there?”
Audrey squeezed her little sister’s cold fingers. Her mouth felt stiff, as if it didn’t belong to her, and it was shaping words in a language it didn’t understand. “He won’t be. He’ll be all right. He’ll have got out.”
“But what if he didn’t?” Chloe’s eyes were huge. “What if he drowned?”
Drowned? Of course it was possible. He could have been asleep when the flood hit. He could have been taken by surprise. He could have been caught in the narrow entrance, pushed back by the force of the water … No. Audrey shook the thoughts away. No, no, not Finch. He’s way too smart. He’ll have got out of the cave, for sure. But if he did, where would he go? Where would he be now? She looked across the flooded creek at the rain-soaked countryside beyond. She prayed that she’d catch a glimpse of Snowy, or that Finch’s lanky figure would suddenly appear from somewhere. There was nothing. Just the grey sky and the roar and tumble of rushing water.
Her mind raced. Perhaps Finch had climbed the crooked tree and was hiding among its leaves. No, that was ridiculous – you’d see him a mile off. Perhaps he was sheltering behind that low outcrop of rocks. Perhaps he was on the road somewhere.
Perhaps.
Or perhaps he was still in the cave. Trapped.
No!
Audrey knew there was no point guessing what had happened.
“Chlo,” she said, “we have to tell Mum and Dad.”
“I know,” said Chloe. “You wouldn’t really be breaking your promise, would you? This is life and death. That’s different.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
Chloe sniffed. “My nose is drippy. Got a tissue?”
Audrey burrowed in her pocket and produced a balled-up wad of Kleenex. Chloe blew her nose.
They were still holding hands as they made their way back up the hill.
*
Dad’s face was grim. “Audrey, are you serious? There’s a cave somewhere under all that water, and there could be a boy in there?”
“I didn’t say he was in there. I said he might be.”
“How do you know about this boy? Is he someone from school?”
Audrey was starting to feel desperate. It was like living through the sort of nightmare where everything moves in slow motion. Why were they wasting so much time, when Finch might be trapped and needing help? You know that if he’s still in the cave, he’s past help, said a voice in her brain. Audrey pushed the voice away. “His name’s Finch. I came across him sort of by accident a while ago.”
“But why is he in the cave, for heaven’s sake?”
“It’s complicated, Dad. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone about him. He has … reasons for not living with his folks.”
“How old is this boy?”
“I’m not sure. He’s left school.”
“He’s left school?” Dad repeated, disbelief all over his face. “What were you – I mean, how–?”
“Dad! I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Of course you didn’t, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” Dad shook his head. “If he’s that old, I’d say he would’ve had the good sense to get out. But we can’t risk it. I’d better ring the SES. They’re trained to cope with this sort of thing. They’ll know what to do.”
*
“This is a job for the police divers,” said the State Emergency Service volunteer. “There’s no other way we can get into that cave while the creek’s this high.”
They were all standing with the SES man on the slope that led down to the part of the creek where the cave was, Dad, Mum, Audrey and Chloe, shading their eyes against the sun that now shone brightly through the clouds. The torrent that surged down the creek bed gleamed with sky colours and earth colours. Was the water level falling? Audrey couldn’t be sure.
She stared at the man’s hi-vis orange jacket and tried to speak normally. “Do you think they’ll find him?”
The man smiled wearily. “Look, chances are the kid got out in good time, as soon as the cave started to fill with water. That’s what anyone with half a brain would do. But it’s possible the cave hasn’t filled completely. It could be there’s a safe ledge inside it and your friend is still in there. But we don’t know the score, we’ve got no idea. I’ll get on to the police ASAP.”
He looked Audrey right in the eyes, his face grey with tiredness. His expression, patient and concerned, made her feel guilty, as if she’d been caught out playing a thoughtless joke. Perhaps this man thought she was lying, a troublemaker.
Then she thought of Finch – maybe trapped, scared. “All I know is he could be in there. He’s been living in the cave for a few weeks.”
The SES man nodded, and pulled out his mobile. “Dee? Brad from the SES. Can you get me Vince? Ta.”
He turned to Dad, and his voice took on a more confidential tone. “The kid’s probably on the run. There’s been a few vandals in the area lately, kids thieving, setting fire to property, that kind of thing. Chances are he’ll turn up safe and sound before too long.” He put the phone to his ear again. “That you, Vince? We’ve got a bit of a problem.”
