Goldenscale

Monday 6 March

20

Morning came as usual to Hemming Heights, but her world had changed. Doubts had been replaced by certainty. After her flight from the cellar, she had run to her room into her bed. The cellar was more or less directly beneath her bedroom. Only a wooden floor lay between herself and what lurked below.

She slept without interruption until just after dawn. After rising she sat at her desk and waited for panic and terror, but they failed to even make an appearance.

Beth looked at the scales, arranging them in a neat line on her study desk. I have all these things, now, these gifts/obligations from below.

She turned her attention to the tooth. The tip was so fine and perfect, the ivory-coloured enamel silken in texture. What kind of creature needed teeth like that? She pictured shark-like rows of the teeth along its jaw.

Like a deep sea fish, it lived in the dark, far away from noise and motion. Perhaps it had excavated a burrow and become trapped, or it might be waking from a long hibernation.

A freaking dragon. She had to stifle laughter. Dragons were for black clad tragics — people who read Rice and McCaffrey, who thought Tolkien was a prophet and Harry Potter the apex of literary achievement. She knew a girl one year above her who carried crystals in her school bag and practised white magic on the weekends. She would be beyond ecstatic if she was in Beth’s situation. ‘Bring on the elves,’ Beth muttered.

Wrapped in an old woollen jumper, the tooth just fit into her backpack. She also took the scales, as a defence against doubt.

Abby and Nick were already on their way to work. Freddy refused to go near her during breakfast, and ran out the front door when she was about to leave. She wasted five minutes before finally luring him into the back yard. He knows, too.

Abbie drove Sam to school just before nine a.m. in a noble attempt to keep him away from his confederates. She said was receiving a stream of letters from Sam’s school, all of which dealt with his misdemeanours.

The theory of dividing Sam from his mates was good, but about as likely to succeed as growing pineapples at the South Pole. Sam attracted trouble the way rock stars drew paparazzi. Beth was grateful that her brother was distracted from the cellar, but she did feel a pang of sympathy for him.

21

Beth walked to school. She didn’t feel like riding. She wanted to carefully consider this new feeling, her new knowledge. She glanced back at the hill upon which her family’s house perched. Something real. There are no spirits, she thought, just life.

She walked on. It was hard to think sensibly. I should listen to something, she suddenly decided. She pulled out her earphones and scrolled down to the latest song cycle from Euphoria, a weird punk cum pop-hip hop band out of Rotterdam. Hardly any of the other kids — even Jo and Sara — had ever heard of them. She sighed as howling guitars and up-tempo drumming filled her ears.

She was late, and walked straight to her biology class.

Mr Flack was out of the room making photocopies. Beth picked her way across to her usual spot. Jo looked at her coldly. Beth’s sense of euphoria instantly evaporated. ‘Oh, hell, Jo. Shopping. On Sunday!’

‘Right. Shopping. Sunday. I tried calling you.’

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t even check my phone.’

‘Thought something must have happened to you. I waited on Hick Street for an hour. Len walked past twice and called me names. One of his mates spat at me. He missed.’

‘Filth!’

‘Yep. My best friend forgets all about me. Dickheads make my life a misery. So I went home. Did you have a good weekend?’

Beth cringed. ‘You should have called.’

‘I did, about ten times.’ Jo retorted.

‘Jesus, I’m sorry. You’re overreacting.’

‘You’re unreliable, Beth.’

I should tell her about the dragon-voice. Then she’ll understand. About the cellar and the dreams and how I’ve got a mission now, or will have soon, and she’ll share it with me. As my best friend. I’ll show her the tooth, and the scales, and she’ll have to believe. Beth opened her mouth. Her lips moved a little. She tried again. Nothing.

‘Fly-catching,’ said Jo. ‘Don’t bother apologising again.’

Beth tried once more, shook her head. She had the words queued up but they would not cooperate. The creature was hers alone. She felt as if she had been hollowed out.

‘Teacher!’ warned Nadine Oobie from her post by the door, causing a flurry of book opening and simulated work.

‘Sit down!!’ yelled Mr Flack as he walked in with a stack of photocopied handouts. ‘Bums on seats, pens in hand.’ He gave the whiteboard a slapdash wipe.

‘Dad’s gone now,’ whispered Jo, ‘and Mum wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow night.’

Beth nodded, hoping she could redeem herself.

‘Next time I’ll tattoo it onto my arm with a ballpoint,’ she promised. ‘Without anaesthetic.’

‘Tattoo artists don’t use gas. That would be too easy,’ said Jo.

\

After the class was over and the other students save Jo had dispersed, Mr Flack beckoned to her. ‘Beth, I’ve got the microscope out of its case. Have you got your little object?’

She considered running.

‘Ah — yes.’

‘Let’s have a look at them.’ He signalled for her to follow, walking off towards the biology lab. Jo gave her a resentful look.

‘I’ll see you later,’ Beth said.

Perhaps Flack can give me information without knowing anything himself.

Flack beckoned her into the biology lab and ushered her to one of the large microscopes normally reserved for senior students. He clamped the scale to the viewing platen and squinted into the eyepiece. Beth felt like elbowing him out of the way.

‘It’s definitely not artificial,’ he announced, standing up from the microscope. ‘It has a real biological feel. Growth patterns, unevenness right down to the smallest scale. I was hoping to see cell walls, but they’re not obvious.’

Flack pushed a button on the side of the microscope and a projector threw a large image of the scale against a white screen, highlighting mazy lines and intricate patterns. Beth thought it looked like a far-flung empire seen from space.

‘I don’t know of any animal that this could have come from. Or plant. Quite extraordinary, really. Not that I’m any kind of expert.’ He clasped his hands behind his back and waddled back and forth. ‘Do you mind if I keep it here for a while? I could run some tests. Send a sample off for dating and spectrographic analysis.’

Against all good sense, she agreed. I have the other two.

22

The just-built school library was the pride of Ooralloo Secondary College, networked, online and suffused with the smell of new carpet. At lunchtime the place was empty and quiet. Irene was sitting beneath a potted palm, reading A Complete History of Australian Soap Opera, and managing to look both lost and cheerful at the same time. Beth sneaked past her and sat down at a computer.

Right, she thought. This is where I find out everything there is to know about a non-existent animal.

She loosed her digital dogs. Imaginary or not, it dragons occupied a serious amount of database space, web indexes and library shelves. She narrowed the search to ‘Books in this Branch’. This list was smaller, but most covered topics other than ‘actual’ dragons. Dragons were a popular metaphor.

I could do a better job at home.

But finally a genuine candidate: Fire-Breathers — Dragons in Myth and History, published at the turn of the century. Beth switched to the browser for a moment. Reviewers on Amazon praised it as a serious work, notwithstanding its ‘many eccentrities and errors of fact’.

She jotted down the location.

Yet half an hour later, the book was not to be found — neither in its correct place, nor anywhere in the surrounding shelves. ‘It’s on loan,’ Ms Davis, the chief librarian said, appearing to share her disappointment. ‘Due back in two days. Here, I’ll tag it on the system, and let you know when it comes in.’

Feeling deflated, Beth sidled past Irene and went back into the sunlight to find her friends. They were gazing out into the middle distance and hardly acknowledged her. Lunch was half over, games of cricket and handball reaching their peak out on the oval. Another chance to tell Sarah and Jo everything, but she remained silent.

Her mind constantly replayed the voice from the cellar, coming up with nothing. She was so preoccupied that she barely noticed Sarah’s departure. Jo stood and straightened her dress.

‘See you tomorrow,’ she said.

Beth experienced a sharp pang of remorse. ‘I’ve got problems at home, too,’ she attempted.

‘I’d take yours over mine any day,’ Jo said.

23

The school day finally over, Beth trudged back up the hill towards home. However agitated her mind, she could not deny that she also felt warm, satisfied, even happy. Happy for what I’ve found, she wondered, or because I have a feeling of power? Or both.

The hills to the west were backlit with white gold, the tree shadows a deep blue. A cicada serenaded her. She found herself at the side gate of her house, let herself in and scraped her shins on Sam’s bike. Hobbling towards the house, she made a fist of one hand and waved it at the house. ‘How much bloody time can it take to lean your bike against a wall?’

Hearing her voice, her brother met her at the back door. They walked together into the dining area, where Nick was reading from his pad. He looked as if he was half asleep.

‘Sorry — not. You should have looked.’ He mimed a tear running down his cheek. ‘Dad’s taking us to the movies! To see a horror film!’ he shouted. ‘Better cry now and save me the embarrassment.’

She clipped his ear. Rather, attempted to and missed as he danced backwards.

‘Dad! What about dinner?’ she asked.

‘We’ll eat out,’ said Nick, ‘before the movie.’

‘Where’s Mum?’

Sam hesitated a moment. ‘In the city. For an interview.’

‘The city job?’

‘Maybe,’ he said, losing his antic expression. ‘Or maybe not.’

Beth glowered. ‘Don’t be a little prick.’

‘Umaah.’

‘Do we have to move from here?’ Beth asked her father. ‘I mean, she can’t commute all the way to the city.’

Sam looked pleadingly at his father. ‘Dad? We wouldn’t do that, would we?’

‘For crying out loud!’ Nick chuckled, his acting poor. ‘Your mother and I were raised here. We’re not that keen to leave.’ He picked up a piece of junk mail and studied it intensely.

What if they break up, Beth thought. That would be like the sun shining at night. Her school was overflowing with kids whose families had gone to pieces. Children living with mothers, fathers, grandmothers, uncles, or stepfathers, sleeping in different places at different times of the week, fathers shacking up with a succession of girlfriends, mothers choosing new men as bad as the old. Beth knew well enough that families were flimsy, but she didn’t want to find out from first-hand experience.

‘Don’t forget the movies,’ said Sam.

‘Pizza first,’ said Nick, ‘Seconded?’

‘Thirded. Extra hot salami,’ agreed Sam.

‘Captain Chicken!’ said Beth, but two votes to her one carried the resolution.

\

The Limelight Cinema began pushing popcorn in 1971. The foyer’s carpets were a mess of interlocking brown and orange circles, and the walls were covered with a strange red velvet wallpaper that felt like velour. Only the dregs of the Hollywood barrel were considered for screening at the Limelight — the more lowbrow and plotless, the better.

Sam managed to wheedle money out of Nick for a Coke and a bucket of rancid popcorn.

They watched Tsunami Summer, a CGI-driven disaster flick. Insular townsfolk ignored all signs of an impending earthquake/tidal wave, and the hero scientist spent fruitless hours trying to convince them to leave. One especially obstinate old lady clung to a lamp post, insisting on walking her dog along the beach despite the impending apocalypse.

‘She’s gonna die,’ predicted Sam, correctly. ‘Grannies always die in these movies.’

‘But the dog will live,’ Nick added, and he was right too.

‘All right!’ Sam shouted when the tsunami finally appeared, smashing the simulated town to pulp. ‘Surf’s up!’

All through the noise and action, Beth thought of the tooth, and the scale, of Mr Flack, of the voice and the smell, over and over. Not seeing or seeking any alternative path, just finding many ways to remember the same event. She felt as though an ant had found its way into her mind, and was unable to escape, marching, marching … 

\

Abbie was home when they returned, shoes off and drowsily watching a current affairs program.

’Hiya, said Sam. ‘The movie was crap. Foodlike substances were OK.’

‘Hi yourself, Sammy. Beth. Hon?’

‘It was not utter crap,’ Nick objected. ‘Fine acting, especially on the part of the tidal wave. Great range of expression.’

‘It’s actually a tsunami,’ said Sam. ‘Caused by earthquakes, not by the tides.’

Beth groaned. Soon she excused herself and went to her room, and stood looking out the window, at her reflection overlaying the town’s lights. She was home, the night had come and she was tense with anticipation.

She put on her tattiest pyjamas and lay down, but could not sleep. Each time she closed her eyes, she heard that voice, inside her head, in the beating of her heart, the thrumming of her blood.

24

She pushed herself off the bed, opened her door, and crept downstairs through the darkened house. Once again, the cellar padlock was open and the door yielded to her touch. She stood before the hole. Waiting. Her voice came out as a whisper. ‘Why did you talk to me? Why not some other person?’

‘Well? Why?’

‘Ahhhh,’ the creature murmured, voice papery and insanely low, ‘Beth. I did not expect you so soon. I thought you would take some time to adapt.’

She shook her head. He’s a flatterer.

‘When I began my sleep, such a long time ago, the land above was occupied only by wandering nomads. Now, humans have made a city around me.’

‘It’s not really a city,’ Beth said, ‘not yet.’ She frowned. ‘You’re older than Hemming Heights?’

‘Yes.’

‘Much older?’

‘When we dragons are asleep, time essentially stops for us.’

‘Like hibernation? Hundreds of years?’

‘Maybe thousands,’ said the voice. ‘This time it was shorter, I think. Perhaps the construction of your home awoke me earlier than usual. Waking can take many years.’

‘We must seem like moths,’ said Beth after a moment. ‘Blink and we’re dead.’ She wiped her forehead. ‘Why do you call yourself a dragon? Why use that particular word?’

‘That is my essence,’ it replied.

‘But dragons are imaginary,’ she said. ‘A myth. Dreamed up by adults to entertain kids. You could call yourself something else. Your real name, maybe.’

‘There is a truth beneath all the layers of myth. Dim memories, ancient encounters, stories passed down. That is how my kind becomes your dragon. And that is why dragon will do. As a label, for want of something better.’

‘But what are you really called?’

‘Naming is a weak tradition among my kind,’ the dragon said. For us, no two things on this earth are at all alike, so we have no need of names. We are what we are.’

She felt weaker than ever. One connection seemed certain. ‘You’re making our house shake? The earthquakes?’

‘Yes. Unavoidable. My body is slowly stirring, warming up.’

‘It frightens us. Especially my mother—’

‘Again, I apologise. I have an unanticipated problem, you see. I can’t win free as easily as I had hoped. Or find food.’

‘What do you eat?’ She imagined flocks of sheep.

‘That depends on you, should you decide to assist me. Tubers. Lichen. Maybe ferns. Not the fronds — the heartwood — the trunk, you would call it. They bring me closer to the sun.’

‘Will you destroy our house when you leave?’

‘Of course not. I can emerge beneath your gardens when I am strong enough. I have a sense of the shape of your home. You have nothing to fear.’

Beth rocked from one foot to another, considering. The dragon was an unlucky creature in its choice of a sleeping place. But how many lies would it tell in order to obtain help? I’m ready to help him without knowing anything. What else can I do? Don’t let him dictate everything!

‘Show me something more …’

‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea.’

Beth said nothing. She waited, breathing the cellar’s damp air.

‘Very well,’ the dragon said finally. ‘Just once.’

A deep rumble reached up through the soles of Beth’s shoes, and a steady rain of fine dust fell from the roof.

‘Stand aside.’ the voice boomed.

Beth crouched.

Seconds later, a red glow lit the hole. Then a narrow tongue of scarlet flame jetted across the room, fanning across the far wall. Beth’s skin prickled at the sudden heat. Blue smoke eddied through the room. Then the flame and smoke vanished like a movie run backwards. The room was suddenly very dark.

‘Have I injured you in any way?’

She was silent for what seemed like minutes.

‘No. Shocked. Is what I am.’ She stopped. He could have killed me.

A second later the upstairs fire alarm began shrieking, and the dragon cried out.

Beth was already halfway upstairs.

Having fumbled the cellar padlock shut, she got to the kitchen seconds before her father appeared from the bedroom wing, followed by Sam in his pyjamas, then Abbie.

‘I was making toast,’ Beth improvised, indicating the slice she had just managed to insert in the toaster. Her legs felt shaky.

‘At two in the morning?’ Nick asked. He waved a towel at the smoke sensor, and the shrilling stopped.

’Hungry. Didn’t have enough for dinner.”

Sam looked at her intently. ‘Where’s the burned toast?’ he asked. ‘In the bin?’

‘I ate it.’

‘But you reckon the black bits cause cancer.’

‘I was hungry.’ Beth glanced at her parents, who were staring at her as if she had three heads or a forked tongue.

‘Smells weird down here,’ said Sam. ‘Like singed dog or something.’

After innumerable apologies and a half-successful attempt to mollify her parents, Beth eventually trailed off to her room. She lingered a moment outside her parents’ door.

‘She’s worried about your new job,’ came Nick’s muffled voice.

‘Nick, you shouldn’t have told them. Unnecessary.’ Abbie sounded weary. ‘I might not get the job.’

‘Or you might,’ he retorted. ‘I’d rather that it wasn’t a complete shock to them. Anyway, Beth’s a survivor.’

‘She worries me,’ said Abbie. ‘Been odd for the past week. Always doing her own thing. That’s the story of her life, isn’t it?’

‘Like me when I was young,’ Nick said. ‘I can see a lot of myself in her.’

‘You were more sociable.’ Abbie tried a new tack. ‘Remember Sam’s jibe about her diary? Maybe he guessed right. Maybe she’s discovered boys. Or a particular boy.’

‘All fourteen-year-old girls are interested in boys,’ her father said dismissively. ‘Or horses, and Beth’s never looked sideways at a nag, thank God.’

Their conversation moved on. Beth sidled away.

If only it was just boy trouble, thought Beth, climbing into bed.