The Road to Winter (19 page)

‘What?'

‘You know, Rose being pregnant…'

‘Do I know who the father is?' She shrugs. I'm not sure if it's an I-don't-care shrug or an I-don't-know one.

‘Finn, look!' she shouts, leading Yogi off the road. She's found a currant bush.

‘Careful,' I say, ‘the leaves are really prickly.'

There's not a lot of fruit, but I show her how to shake the branches at their base to make the berries fall.

Willow climbs down off Yogi and picks up the berries. They are sweet and juicy, little grenades of flavour on our tongues. Conversation drops away as we gorge ourselves.

Kas has trickles of red at the sides of her mouth. She grins and her teeth are all stained.

‘They're so good. What do you reckon, Willow?' she asks.

‘Nice,' she agrees, smearing the red juice down the side of her face. ‘Look,' she says. ‘I'm like you, Kas.'

It's not until I get my first glimpse of the ocean, that blue horizon I have been missing for the last week, that I dare to think we might make it home safely. I'm so worried about Rose—whether she'll still be there, whether she's managed to stay safe, whether she will be well enough to recognise us.

I keep an eye out for the windmill and tank on my left, though the fading light doesn't help. Eventually it appears out of the gloom. And my bike is still there.

‘Aren't you full of surprises!' Kas says when I wheel it out.

The sun drops below the horizon and the night sets in. I don't know what to expect when we get back into Angowrie, but I have to assume Ramage has left someone there to keep watch.

By now Kas can hardly move her leg and I've finally convinced her to ride up with Willow. I wheel the bike beside them. We must look like a strange trio.

I decide it's best to get off the road, so we turn down the track towards the hayshed. The collapsed iron roof and steel frame are all that's left of it. The wire I strung across the gate to knock Ramage from his bike is coiled by one of the fence posts. It still makes me shudder to think about cutting him with the knife.

The familiar feeling of coming home has crept up on me. The only difference now is that I'm bringing two people—and there's another one waiting for me. And I've almost forgotten about Rowdy. I can't wait to give him a scratch behind the ears and to have him dance around my feet again. But I have to keep a lid on my excitement. I don't want to get lazy and stuff up now. I have to stay alert, even though I'm completely buggered.

I take Willow off Yogi's back first and help Kas down next. I'm beginning to think her injury may be more serious than a bruise. It's dark by now, but I can hear her sharp intake of breath when she walks.

I ride ahead on my bike to check things out, finding myself at the top of our street in a couple of minutes. I can see all the way down the hill to the Wilders' camp on the river. There's no sign of movement, no fire, and I can't smell smoke.

I stay close to the fences until I'm within a hundred metres of my place, then I move in for cover, crossing through the yards of the deserted houses.

I stop at our fence, lean the bike against a tree and check the house. Inching along the side of the shed, I give Rose the warning whistle and wait.

When I come in closer I see the back door is wide open. I whistle again.

‘Rose,' I whisper as loud as I dare.

When the wind drops for a few seconds I hear a faint whining coming from the kitchen. Stepping through the door my heart jumps into my mouth. Even in the darkness I can tell the place is a mess: the table is turned over, chairs are broken and most of the drawers have been pulled out and emptied onto the floor. The whining sound turns to laboured breathing, heavy and nasally. It's Rowdy.

When my eyes adjust to the gloom, I find him lying in the hallway, his body pushed against the wall. He tries to get up, but his back legs give way under him.

‘Rose,' I call again, louder this time. There's no response.

I scoop up Rowdy, carry him out onto the back porch and check him over. He's been in a fight. I can't see any wounds, but there are lumps where he has been hit or kicked. He looks so thin; he can't have eaten in a week. His tongue lolls out the side of his mouth. I leave him there and get a bowl of water. He raises his head just enough to drink from it.

‘What's happened, boy,' I ask. ‘Where's Rose?'

I lay him down again and go back into the house, checking each room. Everywhere else looks untouched; it's just the kitchen that's a mess. The bed where I left Rose is unmade, but the room doesn't smell of her. I don't think she's been here for a while.

Rowdy is a little more lively when I get back out to the porch. He lifts his head and tries to wag his tail.

‘I'll be back as soon as I can,' I tell him.

He whines when I disappear into the dark again. It tears me up to leave him like this, even for a short time, but I have to bring Kas and Willow in. They'll be worried that something has happened to me.

Spooked by what I've seen at the house, I'm extra cautious and leave the bike. I find Willow and Kas lying in the grass together. Willow is asleep with her head in Kas's lap. I can hear Yogi grazing not far away.

‘Where's Rose?' Kas asks. ‘Is she safe?'

‘She's not there. It doesn't look good. The place is a mess and Rowdy, my dog, he's been injured.'

Kas sags. ‘She might be okay though mightn't she, Finn?' she says. ‘She might have run?'

‘It's possible. Lets go down to the house,' I say. ‘I know it's dangerous, but we need shelter and food tonight. And I have to look after Rowdy.'

Rowdy's still lying where I left him. When he hears me again, he struggles to his feet and hobbles to the edge of the porch.

Kas has tethered Yogi in the backyard. At the backdoor, she approaches Rowdy with her hand out saying, ‘Hello, Rowdy. Hello, boy.'

She scratches him gently under the muzzle, then behind his ears.

‘Let's get inside,' I say.

Kas picks up Rowdy and carries him into the house.

‘Is there food here, Finn?' asks Willow, following behind her.

‘Yep, as long as it hasn't been stolen.'

Inside, Kas and I stand the table up and find two chairs that aren't broken. I notice one of the drawers under the sink hasn't been disturbed, the one that had the torch in it. Sure enough, it's still there. And working.

Kas and Willow are startled by the sudden light.

‘Bloody hell, Finn, a torch! I haven't seen one of those for ages. You've got batteries?' Kas asks.

‘Not many left now, but, yeah, I've got a few.'

‘What's happened here?'

‘Dunno. I'm guessing the Wilders found the place, but there's no way of knowing if Rose was here when they did.'

While Kas starts to clean up, I go out to check the food supplies. The branch across the door is still in place and the
padlock too. I grab a few tins of baked beans. Then, while Kas and Willow look on in amazement, I cook the beans and serve them up on plates. I offer Rowdy some, spooning them into his mouth. He eats a little but then backs away. Kas has been checking him out, running her hand over his coat. One of his back legs is swollen below the hip and is sensitive to her touch.

‘You and me, Rowdy,' she says. ‘Cripples, the both of us.'

We eat in the dark. I don't want to waste batteries after I've finished cooking. There's plenty of slurping and scraping of plates. When we've finished, I carry Willow up to Rose's room and put her to bed. It still smells of spew.

Back in the kitchen, I can just make out Kas's silhouette against the white of the wall behind her.

‘What now?' she asks.

‘We'll have a look around in the morning, try to work out what's happened.'

‘What if she got away? Where would she go?'

‘Ray's. But she'd have to…' I jump to my feet and switch the torch on.

‘The map,' I say. ‘I hid the map and told her where to find it. In the flour tin.'

I reach under the sink, pull off the lid and shine the torch inside.

‘It's empty! She's taken the map. She's tried to get to Ray's place.'

‘Who's Ray?'

I explain quickly.

‘What if the Wilders have caught her? What if they've got the map now?'

‘We'll find out soon enough. I'll go out to Ray's tomorrow and see if everything is okay.'

‘No, you won't.' Her voice cuts through the dark.

‘What?'

‘No way are you going to leave Willow and me here. We're coming too. This place isn't safe if the Wilders know about it.'

‘You're injured, Kas. You won't make it.'

‘Watch me,' she says.

I fold my arms. ‘We'll talk about it tomorrow.'

‘You can talk about it all you like, but Willow and me are coming with you.'

I'm too tired to argue.

‘You can sleep in with Willow,' I say. ‘I'll be in the front room.'

I lead Rowdy to the bedroom. I've hardly got the strength to lift him onto the bed. I lie down next to him and put my hand on his belly, feeling him breathe in and out.

Before I doze off, I try to think how long it's been since I did this, lie here with Rowdy next to me, listening to him breathing. Before Rose, before the Wilders, before Kas and Willow. It can't be more than a couple of weeks, but it feels like a lifetime.

In the morning I wake to the sound of sweeping and drawers being replaced. It takes me a minute to work out where I am and what's happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Kas has just about got the kitchen back to its usual state. She's wearing a long T-shirt I recognise. It was one of Dad's. Her legs are bare.

‘Hope you don't mind,' she says. ‘I just couldn't sleep in my clothes. They're so grotty. I stole some of your mum's undies, too.'

‘No worries. Someone might as well wear them.'

‘I didn't mean to wake you. I was up early and thought I might…'

‘You're like your sister.'

‘Ha, she'd laugh at that. She was always banging on about me riding horses instead of doing my share of the chores.'

‘How's Willow?'

‘Still asleep, poor thing.'

I yawn and stretch. ‘How'd you sleep?'

‘On and off. You?'

‘Same. How's the leg?'

‘Stiff. I've had worse kicks before, though.'

She lifts the shirt. The bruise on her thigh is a deep purple and it looks larger than it did yesterday.

‘It looks worse than it feels,' she says. ‘I've always been a bruiser.'

We are standing with the table between us. She drops the shirt and looks around the kitchen.

‘You been outside yet?' I ask.

‘Had a quick look. No sign of anyone. Just Yogi eating up the backyard. I checked him over. He'll be okay, I reckon.'

‘Bunch of invalids you lot. Rowdy, Yogi, you. Only seven good legs between you.'

She laughs, short and sharp, then sits down at the table.

‘So, what's for breakfast?' she asks.

I grin. ‘Come with me.'

I take her next door where I pull back the branch and unlock the door. Her reaction is the same as Rose's had been: she hobbles between the shelves, touching everything, running her hands over the labels, stopping to read them aloud.

‘Heinz canned tomatoes. Edgell green peas, Home Brand sausages and gravy.'

‘Not my favourite,' I say, ‘but Rowdy loves them.'

I grab some more beans and a sausages and gravy and usher her out the door. I give her the tins and ask her to go back inside and heat them up while I hunt for something else.

‘What?' she says. ‘What are you hiding?'

‘Wait and see,' I call over my shoulder, heading around behind the shed. The nest in the low cypress tree three doors down is full of eggs. I make a basket out of the front of my jumper and carry them to the house.

‘Omelettes for brekkie, anyone?' I call when I'm back in the kitchen. Willow is sitting up at the table and claps her hands. Kas just shakes her head and laughs.

It's the best breakfast I've ever eaten. There are enough eggs to make half-a-dozen omelettes, and with the beans heated and spread over the top it's a feast. Even Rowdy gets excited, limping out to the kitchen and resting his muzzle in Kas's lap. I open the can of sausages and he wolfs them down, licking the bowl for a few minutes just to make sure he's got everything.

‘It's a good sign he's eating,' says Kas.

Eventually Rowdy retreats to his blanket in the corner and eases himself down. He's still in pain.

Willow has also cleaned up her plate, licking it for good measure. Kas laughs and does the same.

‘Soooooo good,' she murmurs.

When we're all done, we push our plates away and sit back,
enjoying the feeling of a full stomach. But we can't relax for long. We have to decide on our next move.