Goldenscale

Monday 20 March

43

Monday was already upon her and she felt as if she had hardly slept. A lot of knots to untie this week, she thought. Len, and Sarah. Jo. Henry and Mum, Mum and me, Mum and her job. Mr Flack. Me and the dragon, the dragon and me.

Abbie caught Beth just as she was walking out the front door.

‘I accept you lied in your diary. I don’t know why you’d do that, though.’

‘Oh, Mum. This is crazy stuff.’

‘I’m not crazy, Beth.’

Nick waited in the driveway.

‘I didn’t say you were crazy. Mum …’

‘Tell Jo that we’ll help out any way we can.’

‘Mum …’

Abbie clenched her teeth.

‘Look, Beth. It’s bad enough having a selfish daughter who hardly ever communicates with her family … !’

‘That’s not fair! Why do you always have to twist things?’.

’Not fair? No? What’s Sam doing? What’s happening with my job? Do you think that’s fair?

‘Nothing’s happening with your job!’ Beth yelled. ‘What about my life?’

Nick came back up the drive. He looked at them and shook his head. ‘Thunderbirds are go. Come on Beth, you’ll be late.’

Abbie said nothing, turning her back on the two of them. Presently they could hear dishes being returned to cupboards with some violence. Beth flinched at the clatter.

‘Thunderbirds are go,’ she agreed, and headed for the car. Sam trailed along, forgoing his usual patter.

Nick drove to the end of the street before releasing a huge sigh.

‘That was an awesome reconciliation you guys put on back there. Must have lasted five point two seconds. Beth, can you try to play diplomat? Go for the Nobel?’

‘Mum’s overreacting! It’s her favourite sport.’

‘Same old combative Beth. But have a think. Your mum might be moved, or have to get a new job. She wants home life to be predictable, for the moment.’

‘She shouldn’t spy on me, Dad. Spies always find things they don’t like. That’s what they do.’

‘Leave out a second diary,’ Nick suggested. ‘“Went to meadows, picked flowers. Studied all night, patted dog. Helped Sam with his homework.” That sort of thing.’

Sam remained uncharacteristically silent. Beth asked to be let out several blocks from school and walked the rest of the way through quiet back streets.

I despise fantasy, Beth thought. I hate goblins and elves and freaking fairies. I would blow up every school of magic. Harry Potter would end up in leg irons. And teen vampires would be hunted down by werewolves and torn apart by zombies.

She picked up a pebble and threw it at a bush, flushing a red robin. I hate him for being impossible. I suppose he’s real and not-real at the same time, until he comes out of his underground lair and decides the matter one way or the other.

Ooralloo Secondary loomed through a bank of early morning fog. Students wandered like shades in the underworld. The air was cold and sluggish, out of character for late summer.

Beth paused at the gate, readjusting her books. As she walked through the main gates, she glanced down Tappet Street. An indistinct figure stood in a curl of mist. A boy. With a certain profile and a distinctive way of walking. Then he was gone again and she relaxed. Moments later, a stab of apprehension made her look back, but he was gone.

Jo was waiting inside the gate. She looked as if she had been there for some time. ‘Help you?’

Beth thought about it for a moment, then tilted her books into her friend’s arms.

‘I’m sorry, Beth. I was like way harsh on you.’

Beth laughed. ‘Way, dude. It was me that harshed you first.’

‘Harshed? Come on.’

‘Like, hello. Of course it can be a verb.’

‘Oh. So the Grammar Queen says.’

Beth’s spirits lifted.

Jo pretended to light a cigarette and struck a cinematic pose. ‘I get to thinking I’m the only one with problems, sometimes.’

‘No. Jo—’

‘Beth, you’re the only girl here who doesn’t give a fig where I come from.’

‘You’re from Balmain.’

‘You know what I mean. Colour, ethnic background, et cetera.’

Beth shrugged.

‘You look tired,’ Jo said, dropping her imaginary cigarette and grinding it out with her heel. ‘You need to get a bit more shuteye.’

‘Can’t do it. I hardly sleep at all at night.’

Is telling part of the truth the same as telling part of a lie? Do things left out count as much as things made up?

44

Mr Flack had invited a parks officer, a Mr Wayne Garvey, to speak about Ooralloo National Park. He was wearing dull green shorts, a stiffly ironed khaki shirt and a battered object that appeared to be a slouch hat.

‘An overgrown boy scout,’ Jo said, nudging Beth.

‘Not a good look,’ Beth agreed. She slumped into her chair, ready for a doze.

‘Good morning, everyone.’

‘Go-od morn-ning Mr Garv-vey,’ said Simon Dodds, and was immediately ejected.

‘Twit,’ said Flack. ‘Anyone else who wants to play silly buggers is welcome to try. You’ll be out before you can draw your next breath.’

Mr Garvey’s speech began again. ‘Jugamai Plateau is home to a an atypical range of animals. Curiously, there are few large mammals — koalas, kangaroos or wombats — even though the habitat is well suited to those animals. We believe this situation pre-dates the arrival of European settlers.’

No large animals. God. I bet the dragon ate them all, Beth thought, finally tuning into the discussion. She suddenly sat straight, startling Jo. That proves that he was up there. She wanted to scream out her discovery, to besiege Garvey with questions, to get out of the school and into action.

If she was right about the dragon, then at least some of his stories were true. She wondered if Mara would call soon.

When the end-of-lesson bell sounded. Garvey packed and left with such speed that Beth could only gaze at his departing back through the open door of the room.

Jo and Beth sat alone at lunch, most of the other Year 9 students compelled to watch a performance of Othello put on by a travelling theatrical troupe in the Recreation Hall. Sarah was present, but ignored Jo and Beth, instead speaking to Fiona Atherton, a popular senior whose academic talents were modest at best.

‘Sar looks sooo comfortable hanging around with Fi Fi,’ Beth observed. ‘So much in common.’

Sarah must have sensed their attention, because she got up and stalked off towards the canteen. Beth stood, intending to follow, but Jo caught her sleeve.

‘Let her go.’

‘I want to talk to her!’

‘Later. This too shall pass. Once Len is sorted out …’

‘It’ll be all right?’ Beth said sceptically, resuming her seat. ‘Ooh, yeah. Gotta love those happy endings.’

Beth and Jo parted ways after lunch, and Beth endured an interminable afternoon. Her mind buzzed around the dragon. Everything was guesses and supposition. One piece of firm information and perhaps the rest would begin to take shape. After the final bell, she packed her books into her bag.

Flack cornered her just as she was about to walk out the gates. He looked out of breath and unhappy.

‘People are going to talk,’ Beth said. ‘All these meetings.’

‘Is that supposed to be a joke?’ Flack asked. ‘It’s in pretty bad taste.’

Oh, Beth thought. That hit a nerve. Maybe those rumours aren’t so fanciful after all.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I don’t know any more than when we last spoke, Mr Flack.’

‘Don’t get irritated, Beth. How do you know what I’m going to ask you?’

‘Do you want another scal …  golden thing?’ Beth cursed her wayward tongue.

‘A what? You called it a scale! How do you know?’

Dumb, Beth. Really dumb.

‘I’m just guessing. The shape, you know. Deduction.’

‘Scale sounds right. You want my opinion, Beth?’

She met his stare.

‘I think this scale comes from something very odd indeed — an undescribed species. Perhaps a large lizard or a snake. Not extinct. I think you know where it lives. Maybe even have photos. You’ve seen it.’ He punched out each sentence as if firing an artillery piece. ‘Somewhere up on the Jugamai Plateau.’ His face was alight. ‘There’s been speculation about this in the past. You heard the ranger. No large mammals up there. That means something else must have filled the evolutionary niche! I’m right, aren’t I?’

Beth shook her head. ‘Maybe, Mr Flack. I don’t know. This is why I brought it to you. So you could tell me!’

‘You didn’t pick this up in your garden. I know you go walking up on the plateau.’

She crossed her arms. ‘No. Haven’t been up there for months.’

Flack smiled and held up his hands in surrender. ‘OK. You win. I’ll do my own research.’

‘What’s happening with Len Crabbit?’ she asked.

Flack blinked. ‘He’s probably about to burn the school down. That’s what they usually do, eh? No-one’s seen him since Friday.’

She almost choked.

‘I think I saw him. I didn’t realise at the time.’

‘Where? And when?’

‘At the gates, this morning. In the fog. Running away from the school.’

‘Whoa.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘And you didn’t tell us?’

‘I only just figured out who it was.’

‘Fine. I’ll tell the principal.’ Flack exhaled. ‘I wish I had let Lenny go to Ooralloo.’

‘Mr Flack, I’ve got—’

‘Hush. I know you were up there on the weekend, Beth. You spoke to Mara.’ He waved the scale at her. ‘Your trip up there was something to do with this. My theory looks pretty good.’

How did Flack know? I trusted Mara — though I hardly know her … 

‘I’ve got to go, Mr Flack. I’m sorry. My dad’s waiting.’

Flack raised a hand, surrendering for a second time. ‘Give him my regards.’

‘Bye. Sorry.’

‘Don’t blame Mara, by the way. I had to twist her arm pretty hard. Figuratively speaking, of course. And I get the feeling she could have told me more.’

45

‘What’s that?’ Beth asked.

An ambulance passed at high speed on the way up Dairy Road. Nick was forced into the gutter.

‘Idiot!’ he yelled.

The ambulance barely made the right turn into Serpentine Drive.

‘Anyone we know?’ Beth asked, alarmed. ‘Hurry, Dad!’

‘Look,’ Nick said, shouting over engine noise and rushing air, ‘Sam’s OK. He’s at Pete Biscoff’s. And your mother wouldn’t be home yet. So don’t worry.’

‘What about Henry?’ she shrieked, her skin prickling. ‘I think it’s our place, Dad.’

Her father shook his head.

‘No way. Oh … you’re right. Oh, damn.’ He braked heavily and stopped the engine. The ambulance had halted, lights still flashing, without accompanying siren. Two paramedics alighted, and made their way across the street. They moved swiftly, but calmly.

Nick leapt out of the car and began running. In a moment she too was running, following her father.

A tableau revealed itself. A prone figure on the lawn, men in uniform, a paramedic’s equipment box. Nick yelled something, almost barrelling into the uniformed men.

In following, Beth tripped on the gutter, rolled onto the dew-wet lawn and grunted as she came to a stop. ‘Henry!’ she whimpered, raising her head. The body on the lawn was being examined by many people, her father among them. The figure’s face was deep in shadow, its build slight.

This is my fault, she thought. My fault. It’s all part of the same thing and nothing would have happened if I hadn’t made it all happen.

‘Is Henry alive?’ she asked.

‘Please stay back,’ said an ambulance officer. He stood between her and the body. ‘Treatment is in progress. We only arrived a moment ago.’

‘But it’s my uncle,’ she said, getting to her feet.

‘I’m afraid not,’ said a man to her right, ‘he’s far too young.’

Beth looked at the figure. She gaped. ‘Henry?’

‘Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,’ said Henry.

Beth felt it very important to stay cool, to seem collected. ‘And who is that?’

‘Ah,’ said Henry. ‘Let’s just stand over here, out of people’s way.’

They stepped away from the melee, Nick following. Beth sniffed the unmistakable funk of dragon scent, earthy and overripe.

Mr Epadomides arrived, breathing heavily.

‘Hello, Nicholas,’ he said, ‘and little Beth. What is this over at your place? Is everything all right? Is there some mistake?’

‘A mistake, George? I really don’t know. You probably saw more than I did.’

‘I’ll tell you what I saw,’ said Mr Epadomides, ‘but we’re not about to alarm your kids.’ He grabbed Nick by the elbow and drew him away from Beth and Henry.

As he did, Beth glanced across at the body and caught a glimpse of a running shoe, then another, and a bare foot, half obscured by the legs of the paramedics.

One of the paramedics stood up and wiped her forehead. It was Louise Beaucoup, Irene’s much older sister. After a few moments, Louise returned to the prone figure.

Henry tried to appear nonchalant, and almost succeeded. ‘To think, yesterday I said suburbia was boring.’

Beth edged around, trying to get a better view of the prone figure, but she could see only dirty, torn jeans.

‘Who is that?’ she hissed.

‘I don’t know,’ said Henry. ‘But he started throwing things through your windows. A lot of them. I was reading the paper when a house brick whizzed past my left ear.’

‘God! Are you alright?’

‘Just surprised. I ducked down — taking more incoming fire. A moment later, he moved on to the next room.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, after a little while, I snuck out the back, and worked my way around, hoping to scare him off. But by the time I got out here, he was face up and drooling. Rock in one hand, steel bar in the other. Most incriminating pose in the history of vandalism.’

The sun touched the horizon and a cool westerly breeze arose.

Louise Beaucoup ceased her labours once more and walked across to them.

‘Hello Beth. Could you look at the patient, please? Your father doesn’t know him.’

‘Is he alive?’

‘Ye. Very unconscious, but otherwise, BP is fine, heart rate a little elevated.’

Beth finally got a good look at the vandal. Recognition was instantaneous.

‘Len Crabbit!’

Once the still-catatonic Len was loaded into the ambulance, it quickly departed, though this time without sirens and flashing lights. Henry drove to the hospital a few minutes later, promising to return with a detailed report.

Sam and his trusty BMX hove into view five minutes later, a fine sunset at his back. He cursed when told of the drama.

‘I always miss the good stuff.’

Beth frowned at him. ‘You little ghoul.’

Sam finally noticed the shattered lounge room windows, and moved in for a closer examination. He halted, deep in thought.

Gradually, the small clot of onlookers dispersed, and Nick drove the car into the garage, wheels crunching on broken glass. As he emerged, the driveway bucked and shifted so hard he almost fell.

‘Dad?’ A smaller tremor forced her to stand with feet splayed. Sam lay on the grass until the movement stopped.

With a loud crunch, the cement beneath Nick cracked and dropped several centimetres. He made a strangled sound, completely lost his footing, and fell heavily.

‘You OK?’ Beth cried, then tumbled sideways. She felt as if she was riding a badly sprung car along a corrugated road. After an eternity that probably lasted five seconds, ground stopped moving. Beth groaned, resisting a strong urge to throw up. Then she looked to her left.

‘What’s wrong with Dad?’ Sam asked. ‘He looks real sick.’

Beth was already at his side. Nick grinned weakly, and opened and closed his mouth a few times. No sound came out. He pointed to his chest.

‘A heart attack!’ Sam exclaimed, his voice shrill, ‘get the ambulance back!’

Beth shook her head. She’d seen this before. ‘No. I think he’s just winded. He went down pretty hard.’

Beth held her father’s shoulder and tried not to let him see the fear in her face. Finally, Nick gasped convulsively, drew a shuddering breath and sat up, rubbing his grazed knees. Sam hugged him.

‘Perfectly good pants,’ Nick croaked, chest heaving. ‘I just ripped my best cords and buggered my knee. And look at the bloody driveway!’

‘Are you alright?’ Beth demanded.

He stood carefully, then looked at his anxious children. ‘If you want to stay in Goolgoorook, then don’t tell your mother about this … yet. The broken windows and Lenny are quite enough, thank you.’

He picked two slivers of glass from his palm, and wiped away droplets of blood with his sleeve.

‘What are you going to do?’ Beth asked, feeling queasy.

‘I’m going to change my clothes. Then, I reckon I’ll fill in the cellar. Between your escapades and the tremors, I’ve lost all affection for it.’

‘Do you need to sit down?’

’I’m fine, he said. ‘No drama. Just a bit more subsidence.’

Trailed by a clearly worried Sam, he hobbled off. Beth was left to stare at the spider-webbed cracks across the driveway. A few areas of the concrete had crumbled into a kind of powder, and little hillocks and valleys were evident from the road up to the garage door.

‘Like Mum’s not going to see that,’ she whispered.

Abbie didn’t notice the damage to the driveway — not immediately, at least. The sight of her custom-made drapes billowing out over the shrubbery through the broken windows was far too distracting and traumatic.

She pulled up at the kerb and strode towards Beth and Henry, just returned from hospital.

‘What the hell is going on? Is everyone alright?’

Beth sketched the past hour’s events as quickly as possible.

Abbie stared fixedly at her. Beth took a step back, more than ready to start crying in the face of such scrutiny. She felt exhausted and irritable.

‘Why was he just lying there?’ Abbie seemed offended. ‘On our property! And the windows!’

‘He hadn’t eaten in the last three days. Must have gone a bit mad.’

‘And he just collapsed?’

‘Lack of food, and sudden exertion. That’s what the ambulance people said, anyway.’

Abbie’s face abruptly softened, and she embraced Beth and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I’m so glad you weren’t here when he attacked the place. God knows what he would have done.’

Beth could only shrug.

Abbie turned to Henry. ‘I’m so sorry about all of this.’

He smiled. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t been of much use. I did call a glazier to repair the windows.’

Half an hour later, Constable Helen Darling from Goolgoorook Police Station came to take a statement from Henry. Her uniform was immaculate and she had a sour expression on her narrow face. She took Henry’s offer of a cup of tea with ill grace. ‘No thanks. We don’t have time to waste.’

‘Miss …’ said Henry, waving his hand airily at her ‘ … Sergeant …’

‘Constable Darling,’ she said.

‘Darling, I’ve already given this story to about ten people tonight. Do you mind if I drop by the station tomorrow morning?’

‘I’d prefer to do it now. Regulations. We need a statement while the event is fresh in your mind.’ She smiled. ‘The average person is quite poor at recalling detail.’

Provoked, Henry re-told the evening’s events in every particular. He even remembered the brand of sneakers Len had been wearing, and a bad graze he had glimpsed on Len’s upper arm. Sarah’s rock attack, Beth thought. By the end, even the hyper-thorough Darling was fidgeting. ‘Is that everything, sir? Nothing omitted? Thank you for your assistance.’

‘It was a singular pleasure.’

As she departed, the window repairman arrived and began work.

46

‘We’re off to see Sylvia.’ Abbie had changed out of her business clothes. ‘We’re late, but at least we’ve got an excuse. Henry has kindly agreed to babysit — kidsit, or whatever,’ she corrected herself, seeing Sam’s thunderous expression.

Showered and much improved, Nick carried Sam out to the car by his feet.

Beth guessed he had said nothing to Abbie about the latest tremor. Abbie still hadn’t noticed the driveway — perhaps he would try to get it fixed tomorrow without her noticing.

He was carrying Sam in a fireman’s hold and generally horsing around. ‘Don’t put him down, Nicky!’ Abbie hectored, ‘there’s still glass all over the grass!’

Sam giggled, wriggling out of his father’s grasp. He always seemed to regress when playing with Nick. Beth caught herself hoping he would come through this strange time unscathed. Since when have I worried about Sam?

Beth caught a whiff of rotten fruit. Her fists clenched.

‘Lock the doors as soon as we go!’ yelled Abbie.

‘Yes, Mum!’

‘And what has happened to this driveway?’ Abbie snapped, finally looking down.

Nick affected not to hear, starting the car and reversing slowly. Abbie was forced to jump in.

‘Pwauuggh,’ Sam grimaced, watching them reverse out of the driveway. ‘Cop that stench.’

Beth shrugged as nonchalantly as she was able. She nodded to Henry, went inside and flung herself on a sofa, planning for the silence that followed bedtime.

Henry cooked some kind of Italian dish, heavy on mushrooms, parmagiano, pesto and semi-dried tomatoes. Beth enjoyed it in a distracted kind of way. Freed from parental surveillance and determined not to miss Catastrophe: a history of aviation disasters, Sam ate his helping slumped on a beanbag in front of the television. Beth sat in the portion of the open living area sometimes referred to as the dining room, and chatted quietly with her uncle.

‘Beth,’ he said, ‘I didn’t tell everything to the Constable.’

Beth laid down her fork, and looked at him.

‘When I got out there,’ he said, ‘I saw this character lying flat out, like I told the police. Strange, I thought, but then I fell over, too. Tried to get up, but my legs were boneless. A damned aphid crawled up my nostril and I couldn’t even twitch. It was the weirdest sensation. I felt like one of those spiders that gets paralysed by a wasp.’

‘The smell …’ she began, but she knew the answer.

He smiled at her, tapped the table in agreement. ‘It was everywhere. Like half-cured leather, but sharp, charred. After a minute of staring at the sky with my tongue lolling from the corner of my mouth, a little breeze came up, and gradually everything came back. Blew that weird gas away. I must have inhaled a lot less than our man in the hospital.’

‘What did you do then?’

‘I got up and checked his pulse — saw he was OK. Then I called the ambulance.’

‘What are you going to do about it?’ she asked.

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. ‘Nothing, I guess. I don’t want to tread on your territory.’

‘My territory—’

‘Uh huh. I’ll leave my little insight with you. You’ll be able to make more sense of it than I can. Am I right?’

Dry throated, Beth nodded.

Catastrophe went to an ad break. Sam struggled up from his beanbag, and walked across the room to tug at Henry’s sleeve. ‘Hey, Henry, can you take me fishing soon? I want to find a friend for Horatio.’ For once Beth was happy to be interrupted by Sam.

‘So Horatio can eat them? He will, you know,’ said Henry.

Sam smiled. ‘If anything happens, that’s nature, anyway. Beth’s kind of stuff.’ He sniffed. ‘Me, I prefer rockets and rock fights.’

Henry laughed and sat on the end of the lounge. ‘I’ve about had it with rocks. Can’t help with the fish either. Much as I’d like to. Back to work tomorrow, in Canberra, among the toiling bureaucrats.’

He lifted a cigarette from his breast pocket, fished in his pants pocket for a lighter and held the two up in triumph.

‘You quit,’ said Sam. ‘Didn’t last long.’

‘Don’t be like that. I took time off to see you two. Besides, there’s far too much action here,’ he said. ‘Earthquakes, bigots, feuds … the whole bloody works.’

‘Can’t smoke inside, anyway,’ Sam said. ‘House rules.’

Henry took a long breath, pinched his cigarette in half and dropped it back into his pocket. ‘I want you to keep in touch,’ he said, glancing at Beth.

47

Worried about paralysis, Beth descended the steps tentatively, lugging three packets of Gourmet Chunky Bites, courtesy of Henry.

‘You’ve been asking questions about me,’ the dragon said flatly, its voice filling the cellar.

Why can’t anybody hear him? she wondered. If they can’t hear him, I suppose nobody would be able to hear me, either. She considered dropping the food and running back up the stairs.

‘What else would you expect?’ she managed.

‘I’m not angry. I don’t blame you, Beth. I could be a liar. You know I exist, but beyond that … I have to be cautious, you understand. I am vulnerable. As are you.’

‘I understand,’ said Beth. ‘But no-one knows about you.’

‘Yes. You have told no-one directly. But you may have aroused suspicions, no? Allowed others to make guesses, develop an interest?’

How does he know any of this, stuck down here? Beth felt for a moment that he must have some ability to see at a distance.

‘Do the first people remember me?’

‘The first people … you mean the aborigines?’

‘That is what you call them. Did they tell you any stories about me?’

She hesitated a second too long. ‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’ This time she could sense something in his tone — but was it disappointment, or a threat? He doesn’t want the aborigines to know he is awakening. Why would he fear them at all? An armoured flying monster versus men with spears. Doesn’t make sense.

‘Y—es. Why? Did they know about you? How would that be possible?’

‘They are not a people to forget. Stories instead of writing on paper. Lasts much longer.’

She found herself nodding. He’s doing it again. Persuading me, stopping me from asking the questions I want to ask. He doesn’t lie: he doesn’t need to. He just pushes me a little, and I surrender.

She pinched herself hard. The fog in her mind thinned a fraction. ‘What did you do to Len?’

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘I have hardly begun to tell you about myself, Beth.’

‘Did you try to kill Len? Remember? I could smell you up there.’

He didn’t reply for several seconds.

‘A boy began to damage this house. I defended it for you.’

‘For me? With what?’

‘I exhaled, but did not ignite. A hunting trick.’

‘You nearly killed him!’

‘The gas only stuns, Beth. It seemed the best way.’

You could do that to me!, she thought.

As if anticipating her, a powerful rush of fragrances flooded into her nose, a mixture of freshly primed canvas, aniseed and red wine vinegar.

This time she bit at her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

‘You accused me of getting careless,’ she said, ‘Don’t you think knocking people out on my front lawn is risky?’

No answer. The smells swirled and eddied about her — something sharp and electrical, a hint of cloves, the smell of a crushed leaf, the acrid scent of coffee grounds.

‘What are you doing to me?’ she asked. ‘Stop it.’

‘Doing to you?’

‘The smells. I can’t put my thoughts together. Don’t know whether I can trust you anymore.’

‘It is not an intentional act. As I get stronger, so does the smell. It is a part of what I am, not separate, not an invention.’

Beth thought of Len, pale and twitching, face blank. ‘But I feel like it does something … to me. Makes me slow …’ Why haven’t I asked you about why no-one else can hear you? Or how you plan to get out of the cellar? Or how it is that eating a few bags of dog food and dried up old ferns is enough to revive a monstrous half-dead beast?

’You speak of trust, Beth. I think you are right.

The time has come for me to be more open with you. If you are willing to take risks for me, then I should do the same for you. Perhaps then you will come to trust me more, and we can progress to the final stages of my liberation.’

Beth searched for a reply, wanting to continue her line of questioning. But a blankness invaded her mind, filling every space.

‘Yes,’ she said, giving up, disgusted with herself. ‘You’re right.’ Immediately, the pressure in her head eased.

‘Very well. I wish to help you get a better sense of what I am, and to speak of my experiences with human beings.’

Yes, and tell me lies.

48

‘Once we were many and free, each of us with a realm of our own. We girdled the earth with our flights and lived fully. We knew happiness. By and by we began to encounter an ape that came out of the African plains, but seemed able to live anywhere. It could make for itself the fire that we kept in our bellies, and instead of growing claws made crude weapons from stone and wood. We found the ape and its tools ludicrous, and terrorised it whenever possible. Yet it spread still further, doubled quickly, doubled again. We are slow to increase, and could not keep pace. Like swallows, they learned to make nests of mud and straw. Where they lived, game soon vanished and we were forced to move. All too slowly, we realised these apes were competitors, bloody and remorseless.’

He’s talking about us, Beth thought. She felt a perverse thrill of pride in the deeds of those remote ancestors. At the same time, the dragon forced his perspective upon her, and she saw the humans as rats or worse, bent on destroying the fine and beautiful world of the dragonfolk. For a flickering moment, Beth was a dragon and she knew their slow demise was a tragedy.

‘And our dominion did shrink, until it was a tenth of what it had been, and all the finest land across the globe was under plough and hoof. Too many of us were crammed into this final patch. Beth, when a dragon is forced into the territory of another, bloodshed may occur. Did occur. As the humans built new nests, dragons were dying at each other’s claws. We accelerated our own downfall. We became so few that humans turned us into a myth. As if we were a fiction contrived by the human mind.’

‘What about hibernation?’ Beth heard herself ask. ‘Why didn’t you just go to sleep for a few hundred years at a time, and try to outlast us? Humans aren’t going to go on forever.’

A billow of warm air puffed into the cellar, peppering Beth’s face with small particles of grit. ‘We have tried that,’ the dragon said. ‘But each time we awoke the humans were stronger, and we were weaker. This awakening is the worst of all. You have eaten the planet, eaten its future.’

‘We’ve made of lot of things extinct,’ Beth, trying to think of something consoling to say. ‘We mightn’t last much longer.’

’You don’t deserve to, said the dragon, ‘but you will still be here in another million years. Along with your friends, the rats and the cockroaches.’

Beth thought she heard feet moving on floors above, but the sound was faint and soon faded into inaudibility. She allowed her hands to relax a little, brushed at dust on her knees. She blinked slowly. She struggled to think critically, to question his word. He wants me to think he is harmless, always the victim. And right now, she thought, I believe him. I can’t help myself.

‘I was going to warn you about something,’ she said.

The dragon was silent.

‘Dad’s going to fill the cellar. I don’t know when.’

‘I heard him.’

Beth shook her head. ‘We can’t keep a thing from you, can we?’

‘Your father had a builder down here this morning.’

‘He did?!’

‘This man cannot start work for another few days. I will be fully awake by then, and gone.’

‘And if not?’

He did not reply.

The cellar was a dim cube of silence and dust. Beth shifted in her seat. ‘How do you know when you are ready to fly?’

‘When there is no choice. My flesh itself sings, calls out for the sky! Even now I despise my imprisonment, this shroud of earth.’

‘Can you take me with you?’ she burst out. ‘Into the air?’

She imagined herself holding thorny scales, leaning low along a winged back. Mount Jugamai would grow small and Goolgoorook would disappear in mist.

‘Allow me that domain at least,’ the dragon said. You may fly with me in dreams only.’

‘I woke up yesterday convinced it was all a dream,’ Beth said. ‘But then I felt the scale.’

Beth yawned involuntarily, hand over her mouth, and tried to focus on her watch. Four a.m. Suddenly she was exhausted, her legs completely leaden. She wanted out of the cellar.

‘Bed,’ she said. ‘I don’t get enough sleep anymore. Be back, I promise.’ She fled up the stairs. She plunged into the silent house, and on into her room.

Was the beast offended by her sudden departure?

Sleepless, she jotted a short diary entry. There was no pleasure in keeping a journal any more: Abbie’s espionage had spoiled it for her. No longer private, no longer hers.

D told me a bit more about himself. It sounded believable, at least while I was down there. I started to ask him questions, but I couldn’t go on.

I can’t understand how I can be doing these mad things and still leading an ordinary life. I eat toast in the morning, I’d pat the dog if he’d go anywhere near me. Then at night I have these lunatic conversations. It’s as if he dampens my fear. He wanted to know if the aborigines at Ooralloo told stories about him. Maybe he did something horrible to them. Or they did to him.

She fell asleep with pencil in hand, a feeling of foreboding seeping into her heart. Things cannot go on this way for much longer.