Riddle Gully Secrets (3 page)

Twenty minutes later, Pollo and Will were still following Ash but the main street of Riddle Gully was far behind. Instead, the tall dim forest of Diamond Jack's Trail leaned in, twisted branches arching over the walking track that led to the gorge and the old abandoned railway bridge. In the stillness of the forest, the flip-flap of Will's thongs sounded with each step like a rifle being cocked and pointed at them.

They were approaching a point on Diamond Jack's Trail where a thin track snaked off to the east, towards the firebreak at the edge of the forest reserve. Hanging back as far as they could, they were just managing to keep Ash Swift in their sights.

Suddenly Ash stopped. Some way behind, Pollo and Will slipped into bushes by the side of the track. Ash, in her white polo, her bag over her shoulder, stomped into the scrub, sending a flock of cockatoos squawking and flapping. Hunching low, Pollo and Will crept through the bush, parallel to her.

Ash headed for a burnt-out red gum. The tree must once have towered – its base was as broad as a car. But now only a charred curve of trunk a few metres high remained. She disappeared behind the screen it formed.
Two minutes later she emerged.

But this wasn't the Ash they'd been following. This person was dressed in bright baggy trousers and an orange T-shirt that had seen better days.

‘What's going on?' whispered Will, straining to see through the undergrowth.

‘They're the clothes Sherri said she wore into her shop.' Pollo pulled out her notepad and began scribbling details.

Ash poked here and there around the burnt-out tree, then began making her way back to Diamond Jack's Trail. Soon they heard her thumping up the narrower track leading to the forest outskirts.

‘She can't stray far on that skinny trail,' said Pollo. ‘Quick! Let's check out that tree stump.'

They scurried over. Near the burnt trunk was a log, mottled with lichen and hollow at one end. Will bent double and peered inside. ‘Hey, there's something in there.'

He grabbed a stick and reached inside with it. ‘Look!' he cried, dragging out a plastic shopping bag. He flicked off a grub. ‘It's her new clothes! Why would she stash them here and not just take them with her – wherever it is she's going?'

‘I have to say, Will, this is looking more and more odd.'

They hurried back to the main trail and, as Ash had done, took the narrow track running off it. They couldn't see Ash but they could hear her up ahead, snapping undergrowth and flustering birds. They stayed back, keeping low.

Eventually the noise up in front eased. They were somewhere near the corner of the forest, Pollo guessed, where the firebreak met the gorge – a fair way from town. The forest was stilling for evening here, the green light turning grey. They heard voices. Pollo and Will crept off the track and crouched behind a tree. They were on a bank that sloped gently downwards. Pollo parted the spiky fronds of a palm and squinted.

‘There's a campsite!' She pointed to where glimmers of light filtered through the trees.

They edged as close as they dared. Peering through the darkening forest, they saw that the light was coming from a hurricane lamp on a patch of level ground. The tent behind it was the old-fashioned sort, made of green canvas. Around the campsite, containers and tools hung from tree boughs and ropes. An old car seat and two plastic milk crates served as a lounge suite. A rickety wooden ladder made a pantry, wardrobe and shed all in one – all sorts of things hooked to its rungs. In the centre of the clearing, a low fire burned softly amid a
circle of rocks. From a hook above the tent opening, a small crystal twirled, throwing amber glints onto the surrounding trees.

Beside the tent door, Ash was sitting, straight-backed, on an upturned milk crate. Open on her lap was the joke book she'd bought earlier. She was frowning over it, fidgeting with its corners as she read.

The tent flaps opened and a fellow neither Pollo nor Will had ever seen emerged. He was thin and slightly hunched, with a ragged beard on one side of his head and a long ponytail on the other. His feet were bare. His clothes could have been taken from rag bags – a faded flannel shirt and trousers, the legs torn off at different lengths down each stringy calf.

‘I've seen scarecrows dressed better,' murmured Will. He heard a faint noise and twisted around to look over one shoulder then the other into the forest behind them.

The man stretched, then padded to the fire. A blackened saucepan, steaming and bubbling with thick brown goo, was balanced on the middle of a metal grid – an old drain cover, by the look of it. He poked at the fire and added some wood. Orange flames lapped the pot.

With a long stick, he flicked two black-skinned potatoes to the cooler coals at the edge. Moving
away from the heat, he crossed his ankles and in one sweep lowered himself onto a small mat, tugging in his feet snugly. He sat cross-legged, leaning back on outstretched arms, gazing over the treetops towards the early twilight sky.

‘Ash looks happy enough,' said Will. ‘Sort of.' He shivered and looked around again.

‘Sort-of happy and sort-of like the Ash Swift we know,' said Pollo. ‘But that's only sort-of okay.'

Will leaned close to Pollo's ear. ‘There's something else not right.'

‘What's that?' Pollo peered more closely at Ash.

Will craned to check over his shoulder. ‘I reckon we're being watched.'

Pollo rolled her eyes and smirked. ‘You're being paranoid. It's a classic beginner's mistake when the senses are on high alert. When you've done as much surveillance work as I have, my friend,' Pollo tapped the side of her nose, ‘you know what's real and what's not.'

Will grunted, his eyes giving a surreptitious sideways flick.

They held still, watching the camp. Around them the trills of the forest muted and the air grew more dense. Pollo shifted on her haunches. ‘Will, when you
mentioned brainwashing before, were you maybe a little bit serious? I mean, do you think it could ever happen?'

‘You see it in movies, often enough. I don't know about real life.'

‘Sherri said Ash had gone off stargazing. No one said anything about her having company. Maybe this scarecrow-bloke has got into her head somehow.'

Will looked at the pot simmering on the campfire below. He could smell it like it was right in front of his nose. Angela would be cooking dinner right now – he'd seen the things sitting on the kitchen bench. Lasagne … with tasty mince and cheesy sauce. He licked his lips. ‘Shouldn't we go back? And, you know, tell Ash's mum what we've seen … straight away … after dinner?'

‘It's tricky,' said Pollo. ‘Ash and her mum have an understanding about Ash's stargazing thing. And maybe they both know this man somehow.'

‘And if they don't?'

‘Then we wouldn't want to barge in and send them into hiding before we could get Ash to safety.'

‘And before you could get a scoop for your column,' said Will, ‘the deadline for which is next week.'

Pollo's eyes gleamed. ‘Ash Swift acting like a whole new person; Scarecrow-man popping up out of nowhere! I can smell a good story, Will!'

Will grunted. ‘I can smell stew.'

‘Not that I'd let Ash come to any harm, of course.'

‘No, course not.'

‘We have to tread softly,' Pollo whispered. ‘We need to know more. We should go back to town and ask around.'

‘Good thinking!' Will began edging backwards through the bush.

‘As soon as they go to sleep.'

‘What?' Will squeaked.

‘We can get much closer once it's dark.'

‘And whatever's out there watching us can get much closer too. What if it's a Tasmanian Tiger come back from extinction? They've got sharp teeth, you know.'

‘Will! Stop it! There's nothing and no one out there, trust me. Besides, you're forgetting that if anything did happen to go wrong, I know the forest ten times better than –'

‘Go wrong?'

‘Not that it would.'

Will folded his arms. ‘Pollo, I'm not going to die on an empty stomach. Not when there's lasagne waiting for me at home.' He pointed to Scarecrow-man and Ash in the clearing. ‘They're just sitting there! And if I'm not home for tea Angela will know something's up. Then
HB will go all “police sergeant” on me and start asking questions.'

‘You don't have to blab.'

‘Pollo, this is HB we're talking about! He wangles answers out of me when I don't even know he's asked anything! He's sneakier than he looks.'

‘Well, what if we come back after dinner? I can bring chocolate! Unless you're still scared of that cute little Tassie Tiger ghost out there.'

Will pondered. The forest at night
was
creepy-cool. And chocolate … ‘I wouldn't mind, I guess.'

Just then Scarecrow-man unfolded himself and stood up. He rummaged in a crate and pulled out two spoons and two enamelled tin dishes. Ash put the joke book aside and joined him at the fire.

Pollo looked at Will. ‘Ten more minutes?'

‘Five.'

‘Seven and a half?' Pollo yanked her notepad and pencil from under her T-shirt.

‘Deal,' said Will, checking the second timer on his watch.

Scarecrow-man squatted next to the pot and spooned stew into the tin dishes. He added a potato each, rubbing the char off first between his palms, and passed a plate to Ash. Ash returned to her milk crate and Scarecrow-man pulled his mat closer.

Pollo and Will craned forward.

Scarecrow-man took a slurp of stew and chewed steadily. He swallowed, then tilted his chin up to the towering trees that encircled them. ‘There's a power to this place, don't you think? I felt it when I camped here as a boy and I feel it now. It's all around – in the rocks, the trees, that blanket of twinkling stars up there. You can feel it too, yeah?'

‘I can feel this mosquito biting my foot and this crate making patterns on my bum.' Ash winced and
rubbed one foot on the instep of the other. ‘This bean stew tastes different. What are the chewy bits?'

‘Ah, I hoped you'd notice. Fungus!' said Scarecrow-man. ‘I found it under the old railway bridge earlier on. There's a stack of it!'

‘Fungus. Great,' said Ash flatly. ‘Did you know that some types of fungus liquefy internal organs?'

‘Don't sweat. I ate a little bit an hour ago to test it.' ‘That's so reassuring.' Ash began rhythmically dropping her spoon onto the edge of her dish, letting the vibrations ring across the clearing.

‘Are you okay? You seem a bit edgy.' Scarecrow-man blew cooling air over a spoon heaped with stew.

Ash threw back her head and winced at the sky. ‘It's just that I wish … that just sometimes … just once, I could … we could … oh, never mind.' She dropped her spoon, splattering stew onto her knees.

‘I think this place draws our feelings from here –' Scarecrow-man thumped his chest with his fist, ‘– and brings them up here.' He tapped the side of his head. ‘I think I know what you're wanting to say,' he continued. ‘I want the same as you – always have done, ever since I was a nipper. To communicate with what's up there – the never-ending universe, the cosmos. Just once! I'd give anything to experience that!'

Ash sighed loudly.

Scarecrow-man waggled his spoon, circling the air between him and Ash. ‘We've always been a spiritual mob, our family – open to more than meets the eye.'

‘Whether it exists or not.'

‘Yeah, you could say that, I suppose.'

The firelight flickered. Somewhere in the ashen forest an owl tooted, low and unhurried. Scarecrow-man adjusted a branch on the fire, sending up a shower of red and gold sparks.

‘So tell me what you found in your wanderings today? See any orchids?'

Ash patted her stew with the back of her spoon. ‘No, I saw … umm … nothing really, nothing new anyway.'

‘Maybe tomorrow then.'

‘I did see a
No Camping
sign,' she said, her voice brighter. ‘It was at the head of the main trail, back towards town. It had super-big letters and a really clear picture of a tent with a red line through it.'

‘We're not camping, we're living!' said Scarecrow-man. ‘Still, I'm glad you told me about it. I'll know to shut my eyes if I happen to go past.' He spooned more food into his mouth. A thought suddenly occurred to him. ‘Hey,' he huffed around the hot mouthful, ‘the head
of the trail's a long way from here. You didn't go into town, did you?'

‘Well …'

‘You know what I think about towns! All those strangers …'

‘Who, in theory, could become friends,' said Ash.

‘All those fast cars … ice-cream vans … shops selling gadgets and things you don't need.'

‘Like clothes and shoes,' muttered Ash.

Scarecrow-man looked at Ash intently. ‘Towns don't let you think straight. I don't like you tackling them by yourself – you can easily come to grief. Just stick by me and you'll be right, eh? We were going to go in together, weren't we?'

‘Only when the milk powder ran out. I wanted to go to the town library to … find out … something.'

Deep among the bushes, Will nudged Pollo and whispered. ‘Like how to charge an iPad?'

‘The library, eh?' said Scarecrow-man. ‘I guess that's not so bad. That'd be where you got that joke book I saw earlier. Didn't think I'd seen it before.'

Ash said nothing.

‘How's about a joke from your book then? I don't know I've ever heard you tell a joke.'

Ash yawned extravagantly, showing the cosmos a
full set of teeth. ‘Sorry, but do you mind if I go to bed early tonight? I feel really tired for some reason. Really, really tired.'

‘No, course I don't mind. You go on. The forest will keep me company.'