Goldenscale

Saturday 4 March

14

Rutted and white with dust, Fivepence Lane branched off Dairy Road, running north past the Ooralloo reservoir. West of the road, a low rise paralleled the course of Ooralloo River and the spectacular Roaring Creek.

Beth cycled off the road and into the long grass, until her legs were sticky with seed heads. She sneezed and her eyes began to water. Though autumn had officially begun, summer was still everywhere, butterflies in the air, the ground hard and cracked. The warm midday air moved slowly, carrying with it a great and refreshing silence. After hiding her bike beneath a tree, Beth began to descend into the river valley. The slope became steeper, but she went on without slowing.

Saturdays were often expedition days, and she usually travelled alone. Today, she planned to walk from Argyle Falls to the old drive-in site, a route she had only travelled once or twice. Away from other people, she felt better, more herself.

On impulse, she took the golden disc from her pocket and dipped it into the cold waters of Saraband River. The disc seemed to writhe in the cage made by her fingers. She leaped up the bank and laid it flat on a grassy sward.

She stared at it for a moment as if she was about to develop an additional sense. But no, the disc remained still. Imagination. Yet she was not convinced — something had changed for a moment.

Fish leaped from the water, hunting bugs. Beth knelt to splash her face. If there was something else to be found, then it would be down in the cellar.

The Argyle Falls were a trickle in February. Beth clambered down with ease. If rock climbing ever became a school sport, she’d be a contender. There was an art to walking alongside a river, rock-hopping and fish spotting, travelling efficiently. Always another bend in the river to round and pools to discover.

After an hour or two she saw Miles Simpson in the distance, waving a net at butterflies yet invisible to her. Skinny and awkward, Simpson was a couple of years ahead of her at school. She waved, but kept her distance.

A large gum tree provided shade in the grounds of the old drive-in, long closed, the entrance blocked with concrete-filled drums. Her mother and father had watched movies here, several centuries ago. Faded Karate Kid posters hung from the graffiti-covered projectionist’s shed. Beth sat under a plane tree and looked towards Hemming Heights.

Would Mum really work in the city? she wondered. Dad wouldn’t be happy. She’d be home late, would have to leave early. They’d be tired, tetchy with each other. Even more than they already are.

She wandered home along foot tracks, successfully kicking a rounded stone for over a kilometre until she lost it in the grass. That night, Nick streamed a Sci-Fi movie and they all sat down to watch it with chips and lemonade. Sam added commentary, and Beth laughed despite herself. I’m not going mad. Not yet.

15

Beth dreamed. She waited for the penguin beneath the only tree on a snow-covered steppe. She looked out over herds of bison covered with letters and numbers instead of stripes.

‘So. Did you read my story?’ the bird asked, falling from a tree, extending long claws and thudding to ground.

‘Yes,’ she lied.

‘Of course,’ it preened. ‘My life. All of it. There’s more!’

As the penguin spoke the dream transitioned into nightmare. She was in a small room, the walls covered with thousands of copies of her golden disc. The discs cast a weird light, making solid objects seem transparent. The discs sloughed from the walls, metamorphosing into crimson butterflies. Each was singing ‘Come with me, to the sea …’

‘Beth,’ said something, great and deep. The sound seemed to go on forever.

‘Beth.’

The butterflies dissipated.

‘Beth.’

Now the room began to fade.

‘Beth, come to me. Follow your senses.’

Beth’s eyes flicked open.

She was standing in the cellar. A single globe burned overhead. Her feet were bare and cold.

‘Beth.’ The voice was pitched so low she could hear it through her feet.

Her bladder threatened to give way.

I’m in the cellar. Not in bed. I want to be asleep.

‘My thanks, Beth.’

‘For what?’ she whispered.

‘Listening where others could not.’

A gust billowed out of the hole and flapped at her clothes. Beth sniffed burnt metal and sea-salt. She sneezed.

‘Apologies,’ said the voice. ‘I breathe ever more strongly.’

‘Am I awake?’

‘I think you know the answer to that.’

She did, wishing she didn’t.

‘What are you?’ she asked. If she could only close her eyes long enough, perhaps she would be allowed to return to bed.

‘I am the rest of what you already have. You know this is so.’

Beth shivered, clad only in a thin shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. ‘Sam, is that you?’ she asked. ‘If it is, please stop. You win.’

No reply; another gust came out and she fainted.

Beth woke to a pillow in place of concrete. She rolled over and stared up at the sunlit ceiling. She glanced over at her bedside clock.

‘Hell! Ten thirty.’ After stumbling out of bed she circled her room.

Beth opened a drawer. She stopped moving. The disc was still on top of the dresser, but it had been joined by two identical companions.

‘Oh, fark.’

Beth backed away until she bumped into her bed and then sat down. She put her hands on her knees and groaned.