Goldenscale

Tuesday 21 March

49

Abbie woke her with a shout from the hallway: ‘Phone call, honey!’

‘It’s only seven!’ Beth complained, feeling all too human. ‘No. Can I call them back?’

‘Beth! I told her you were awake.’

‘OK, OK.’

She stumbled down the corridor. Her? Not a friend, or her mother would have used a name.

‘Mara here,’ a faint voice told her, ‘Is that you girl? Thought I’d call you early.’

Beth tried to remain lucid. Her mouth tasted of acid.

‘I’ve heard some interesting stories,’ Mara said, ‘very interesting.’

Despite Mara’s boast, Beth could hear something else in her tone, an overtone of anxiety, or even fear.

‘What stories?’

‘About your scent. The little golden scale.’

Beth remembered that the dragon might be listening to her side of the conversation.

‘I can’t come out there, Mara. School today.’

‘I know that, girl. I’ll meet you in town, this afternoon. I’m coming in to do some shopping.’

‘Mara …’

‘I’ll pick you up from school. Four o’clock.’ Click.

‘Who was that, dear?’

‘A lady I met at Ooralloo. She’s helping me with an assignment.’

‘She sounded a bit abrupt.’

Beth laughed. ‘That’s what I thought, too. But she’s kind. Do you mind if I meet her in town after school?’

‘No, that’s fine,’ said Abbie after a long absent-minded pause. ‘Just give the taxi money back to your father if you do.’

‘She can walk,’ said Sam, ‘now that big bad Len’s in the clink.’

‘Suits me,’ snapped Beth. ‘Do I still have to see the police?’

‘Mr Flack can tell you about that,’ Nick called from the bathroom. ‘He’s handling the matter for the school.’

In the end, Henry drove them both to school.

Sam quietly sang, and one of the verses seemed to involve her and a series of grisly incidents.

‘That’s sweet,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘may you suffer a similar fate.’

‘One day you’ll be best friends,’ said Henry.

‘We already are,’ said Sam, ‘like Huck and Jim on their raft.’

I’m already on a river, thought Beth. And it’s a barbed wire canoe, not a raft.

‘I’ll be back this winter, said Henry. Take you skiing, I will.’ Sam stopped singing the next verse of his song long enough to voice his approval of this plan.

They drew up by the school fence and stopped.

‘Be careful in Patagonia,’ said Beth.

As Sam climbed out, Henry leaned over and whispered in her ear. ‘I bought two dozen tree ferns for you and some dry biscuits. Under a sheet of black plastic in the garage. Kind of hidden up the back. Would have put them in the cellar, but Nick might have thought it a bit strange …’

Beth stared at him.

‘Tell me your secret when I get back. I’m sure it’s a good one.’

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Henry watched them both until they rounded the corner.

‘He’s as bad as Dad,’ Beth observed. ‘Always waits until you’re out of sight.’

Beth found Jo sitting under a forlorn-looking Canary Island palm. To Beth’s relief, she smiled and waved.

‘Your mum and my mum, you should have seen it. It was completely sad.’ Jo mimed the pouring of wine and slurred her voice. ‘They started complaining about their kids. Beth this, Jo that. Blah, blah. Then about their husbands. Pretty soon it would have been about the pets. It was like some kind of therapy session.’

‘What was my dad doing?’

‘Watching a day-night cricket match in the family room. They excused him. I think he was relieved.’

‘Yep. Dad loves boy stuff.’

‘Don’t we all,’ said Jo. ‘What did you get up to? And don’t say homework.’

‘Just read a bit,’ said Beth. ‘Wrote some stuff in my journal. Dazed and confused, basically.’

‘And you’re feeling better? You seem a bit better. More here than there, anyway.’

‘That’s the bell,’ said Beth, getting to her feet. ‘I feel OK. Sometimes I get … I dunno. I feel like I’m finished with high school. But there’s all those years to go.’

‘We’re all over it,’ said Jo.

Sometimes, I think my friends know all about what I am doing, and then they go and act as if everything’s normal. I have to remember: to everyone else, the world is still normal.

50

Len Crabbit’s arrest/detention was announced at a special assembly. Naturally, everyone already knew about it. A camera crew from the local television station attended. Principal Betts primped for the camera and put on his best Leadership act.

‘The behaviour of this lad has been shameful. Leonard Crabbit is currently facing vandalism charges, and has of course been suspended from Ooralloo Secondary College. We wish to assure parents and the local community that we will not tolerate racist attacks and the denigration of minority communities.’

‘Bullshit,’ Jo said loudly, causing heads to turn, ‘you let Len get away with it for three years. It’s a disgrace.’

Betts carried on with a vague account of Len’s misdeeds and wrapped it up with a less than stirring exhortation to maintain harmony and diversity.

‘He’s just worried about the school being sued,’ said Beth. She was privately grateful that she had not been publicly named as a participant in the whole affair.

Crabbit’s small band of sympathisers were quiet now, possibly wondering whether this turn of events marked him as a hero or a failure. The assembly swiftly came to an end and students slouched off to their classes, dissecting the news in a hundred different directions.

‘Sarah’s away today,’ said Irene, semi-professional gossip-monger, ‘Must be ashamed.’

‘Put yourself in her position,’ Jo whispered to Beth, ‘the humiliation of it all. It’s not her fault.’

‘I know!’ Beth said. ‘Nothing is anyone’s fault. Even mine.’

‘Good. That’s the spirit. We’ll write her a note. We’ll say all is forgotten, and come out with us.’

By the last class of the day, they had almost finished. Beth was yawning so often her ears started to ring. Too many late nights and strange dreams. They found Skye Hicks, who lived near Sarah’s aunt, and she promised to deliver the envelope.

Jo went to meet her mother, in town for a final consultation with someone from Legal Aid before leaving for Fiji.

Beth waited at the school gates. And waited. No Mara, just a dwindling flow of swearing, jostling students. Could she be waiting at the wrong school … ? Beth chewed at her nails and wished she had a book to read. Anything to distract herself.

Suddenly a dusty Toyota four wheel drive squealed out of Tappet Street, and almost went sideways before skidding to a stop. The passenger door flew open.

‘Get in!’

Mara was dressed like a Chicago gangster: dark glasses, black suit with charcoal pinstripes, white shirt, black tie and a trilby. An unlit cigarette dangled from her mouth.

Beth smiled broadly, all her stress released in one moment. Mara was an out-there kind of woman. ‘What’re you doing, Mara? And what are you wearing?’

‘Hop in!’ Mara barked. ‘Double bloody quick. Old Jack’s in town today. Don’t want the nosey old bugger to see me or the vehicle.’

Beth ran around to the passenger seat, climbed in and the vehicle shot forward like a fighter jet from an aircraft-carrier’s catapult. Mara took the Toyota along a zigzag route through Goolgoorook’s back streets, braking very late when gaining on other vehicles or swinging out into the opposing lane to overtake. Fortunately, the town’s cops seemed to be elsewhere. Dust swirled through the cabin, mixing with the strong fug of diesel. Finally, Mara skidded to a halt on a wide stretch of dirt road down by the edge of Redgum Swamp, and switched off the engine.

Beth wrenched open the door, alighted, and stood a safe distance away. ‘I think I’ll walk home, Mara,’ she said shakily. Craziest driver I’ve ever seen!

‘Been a while since I’ve driven that much, said Mara, oblivious to Beth’s shaking hands. This’ll do, but.’ She wiped her brow. ‘It’s hot down here in the lowlands. Never did like it. My folk are mountain people, you know?’

Beth nodded.

‘Let’s walk back, shall we?’ said Mara. ‘I just needed to find a place to hide the Toyota.’

They walked back into the centre of Goolgoorook, a distance of around one kilometre. Beth imagined she could feel the dragon pulling at her mind, trying to draw her back home.

‘I’m not going,’ said Beth.

Mara looked over at her, curious.

‘Just thinking aloud,’ said Beth, and Mara nodded.

‘I get the feeling you’re a bit jumpy, girl.’

51

The only half-decent café in Goolgoorook nestled between a boarded-up Masonic Lodge and Kurt’s Krazy Cutz Hairdressers. According to Mara, Jack preferred the local pub to any other place in town, and would not be seen dead sipping a latte.

A line high up on one wall of the café showed the level of the 1957 floods. Mara and Beth took a seat in front of a clumsy painting of a dead gum tree.

‘Herbert Thepping,’ said Beth, deciphering the signature.

‘That fella’s not fit to wash the paintbrushes of an Ooralloo artist,’ Mara said.

‘Welcome to Jugamai Café,’ chirped a teenage waitress, ‘can I help you?’

Orders were made and soon afterwards coffees appeared.

Mara sipped at her drink cautiously. ‘I said a short white, eh! This is just plain garden variety coffee.’

The waitress looked sideways at Mara and then went back into the kitchen area.

’Should have a ‘No Abos’ sign up front,’ Mara said loudly, ‘then I’d have known to expect crap service. Or no service.’

‘Do you think they really …’

Some of the other patrons were staring at Mara. That’s just because she’s noisy, Beth tried to convince herself.

‘Maybe it’s just unusual. To see …’

‘A black woman drinking coffee? I forgot, blackfellas are only good for pickin’ the stuff.’

‘To see you in town, I was going to say,’ said Beth, her face reddening. ‘I mean, you don’t come down here much.’

‘Spare me, girl,’ said Mara, but her expression softened. ‘I’ve copped a lot of crap in my time,’ she said. ‘You’ve got no idea.’

The waitress eventually returned with the correct drink.

‘What I’m going to tell you, ain’t supposed to ever leave my people. Like I said before, if Jack ever finds out …’

Beth tugged at her ear, then rested her hands in her lap. She tried to stay calm. Henry always said calm people got to put their argument across. ‘That’s not what I want. I don’t want you to get hurt, Mara.’

Mara smiled and shook her head. ‘I’m not gettin’ hurt. What you asked me the other day made me curious. When that happens — watch out, eh!’

‘OK,’ Beth said. ‘What did you find out?’

‘If I go around my village askin’ about this story of yours, I’ll get speared, if Jack and the other elders come to hear of it. No joke. Ain’t no real secrets in Ooralloo.’ She jabbed a biscuit with a teaspoon.

‘But there’s ways, my girl. Jack, he’s a real vain man. Nothin’ he likes better than a mirror. He likes to boast of his boxing career and other stuff. Mostly about the ladies.’

Ceiling fans were barely moving the tepid air but Beth felt completely awake for the first time that day.

‘Anyway, this was my plan, girl. Invited the old bugger over. Bought him some good beer. I made up a crazy tale about a magic scent. Somethin’ in the Dreamtime, with snakes and big feller frogs. I’m pretty good at that, what with all the bus tours and such. “Jack,” I said. “I read some book by a white fella anthropologist, ’bout the legends of our people. Real secret, special legend. Something about a real good smell that came out of the ground. Makes people change How come I never heard of such a thing?”

’Now, that got his attention. He says: “Just tell me what the book has in it,” because he doesn’t read too well. I told him my made-up story.

When I finished, he got real angry. He walked up and down. “That’s rubbish. The white fella invented all of this. Not a word is true. Don’t know what rubbish dump he picked that up on. He’s tellin’ lies about us.”

’“Are you sure, Jack?” I said, real innocent. “It sounded like proper stuff.”

“Of course I’m sure, woman!!” he shouted, full of pride and stupidity, “you think I’m a stupid old bastard, don’t you? I’ll prove it if you promise to keep your dumb face shut.” Then he told me the real story just to prove how stupid he is.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘I’m going to trust you, Beth.’ Mara lowered her voice. ’Because I think you’re a good girl down deep. Anyhow, this is what Jack Netcher told me, more or less:

’A long time ago, before the white man came, the Gumagai lived high in the Jugamai Hills, just as they always had. Each year they climbed down from their home country and traded with the lowland Bidgee people. They swapped spear-heads, ochre and held a corroboree or two. Most of the time, there was peace, so long as the elders kept the young hotheads in their place.

’Nearly all of the year the Gugamai lived in the open, sleeping on grass, making small campfires. They wore possum skin coats and their feet were tough as stone. In the winter, they had to find shelter, so they lived under big rock overhangs near Mount Acute. They called it Narringa — place out of the wind.

’The head warrior was called Woolgangie, and he was the first to see the strange thing that came to the Jugamai Hills that winter long ago.

‘He was out searching for yabbies, his favourite food, when a shadow crossed the sun. Now Woolgangie was a brave man, so he looked up instead of running away. In the sky he saw something that should not have been there. A great scaly lizard, like a frill-neck, but with wings.’

Beth’s arm spasmed and she spilled her tea. She muttered an apology and swiped it away with a serviette.

’Woolgangie waved his spear, hoping to frighten away the bad spirit, but instead it came down toward him, and landed on the ground.

“Go away,” said Woolgangie. “We have done no wrong. Our ancestors are at peace. We show respect to the world.”

’The creature had teeth sharp as splintered stone and eyes brighter than the setting sun. “If you listen to me, I will not harm you,” it said, speaking in an odd but recognisable dialect, “but you must assist me before I can leave.”

’The great beast made the elder take him back to the Gugamai camp. When his people saw the beast coming through the trees, they ran away into the bush, shrieking. “All is lost! A goanna spirit. It has bewitched Woolgangie!”

“Come back,” Woolgangie cried. “It will spare us if we give it what it wants.”

Gradually, reassured by his example, the women and men returned to camp. They crouched as far away from the monster as possible, babies crying and brave warriors hiding. With a voice more terrible than a valley-full of fire, the lizard spoke.

“Indeed, tremble before me. I have come to your lands, hill-people, and I can find nothing to eat.”

Despite their fear, the Gugamai sneered a little at his ignorance, for the plateau was rich with food.

“I have not yet learned to catch the kangaroos, and I do not know which plants are nutritious. Once I have enough of them, I will leave.”

The only person among the Gugamai who was brave enough to stand before the lizard was the wife of Jurambai.

“My name is Norna. Can you follow me?”

She led the lizard to the bushes that store nectar. The beast snatched up a plant and gobbled it down whole. Then she showed it some mushrooms, and it ate them all, dirt and everything. “This is a tree-fern,” she told the lizard, “eat only the middle.” Soon, it had consumed more ferns than the Gugamai ate in a year.

After that, the goanna spirit appeared satisfied, and thanked her.

“That is enough for today.” It promptly dropped to the ground and went to sleep. The weird smells that came from the lizard’s mouth both intrigued and terrified the Gugamai.

“I don’t think it will harm us,” said Norna, yet she felt very strange.

“The elder spirits have sent it from the dreaming,” said Woolgangie. “Perhaps it was once a mighty warrior. We may be judged on the hospitality we show.”

“Whatever it is,” Norna said practically, “I think it will eat all the food in these hills. Who knows when it will leave, if ever?”

’Over the next few moons the lizard became a familiar sight, tearing out food trees, digging up bulbs and even eating koalas. In addition, it learned to hunt kangaroos very effectively. Wombats and koalas soon followed. After a while, all the tribe’s favourite food animals in the Jugamai Hills were gone.

“We are becoming hungry,” said Narrapin, Woolgangie’s wife. “And none of us dare ask the creature to go away. Whenever I go near him, my objections seem to stay in my mouth, unable to emerge … ”

’By winter the Gugamai were desperate. The Bidgee people would not help them, and feeding the goanna beast took up all their time. Whenever they slackened in their efforts the goanna would become angry and make terrible threats.

’Norna thought about their problem for a long time, then suggested a solution. “We will feed him a special medicine. But we must be careful to do this in secret, or he will stop us.”

’The women gathered and pounded ingredients for several days, until they were soft and frothy. They then poured the juice into a huge bowl, and took it to the lizard. “This is our favourite drink. For strength and endurance. Will you try it?”

’With a great gulp the lizard did so, cracking the bowl in two with its strong jaws.

’After a day, it began to stagger a little, and went to sleep early.

’Norna awoke the next morning to find the great goanna staring at her.

“What have you done to me, woman?”

“You must be allergic to the special drink,” she said, terrified inside. “There is a plant which might cure you. But you must make haste, or your life will be lost.”

’She led the groggy creature to the top of Mount Jugamai, and pointed to a little patch of forest down on the Bul Bul Plains. “Down there. Look for a small tree with blue leaves and yellow branches.”

’The goanna leaped into the air, but not for long. Such was the power of the medicine, it could not flap its wings properly, and tumbled from the sky. Norna watched it until it struck the ground, and a tremendous cloud of dust rose into the air. She felt great sorrow at tricking such a magnificent creature, but joy at rescuing her people from starvation.

’The Gugamai celebrated, though it was many years before food was as plentiful as before. The next summer, they climbed down to see the body of the lizard, half buried in a small rise, near where Goolgoorook town is now. Over many weeks they worked to cover it in earth so that it might not wake again. Finally, a warrior walked up the hill and put his ear to the ground.

“The goanna is not dead,” he said, “but let us hope he will sleep for a long time.”

‘Woolgangie and his men covered the creature with dirt to protect it from the sun. Then they went home to their mountain fastness and never went to the lowlands again.’

‘It fits,’ Beth said. ‘Every bit.’

She gripped the table’s edge tightly.

Mara’s smile faltered. ‘It’s a good story, girl, and very unusual. Is it the one you wanted?’

‘Of course it is, Mara,’ Beth said in a whisper. ‘I owe you so much!’

‘You and I are the only women who know this secret.’ And please keep me out of this, now, her expression said. Passing on secrets could cost her any position among her people.

They both stood.

‘Be very careful, Beth. When I came down here today, I said to myself: this story is rubbish. Just some nonsense dreamed up by some fool man long ago. Now I see from your face that it is the truth. And they were happy to be rid of it, and so should you.’

‘I’m glad I met you,’ said Beth. ‘It was pretty lucky.’

‘Maybe not luck,’ said Mara. She paid the bill.

‘Uh,’ said Beth.

‘Beth. This thing in the story is not anyone’s friend. It is old and very dangerous. Do you think that fooling a child would come hard for it?’

Beth shook her head and slipped past Mara. She turned back at the door.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ll careful.’

At Mara’s shrug, Beth turned and left. She stepped out into the warm late afternoon sun. She was tried to commit to memory every detail of Mara’s tale.

She waited at a crossing light, arms crossed.

A short, balding man stopped beside her.

‘Is that you, Beth?’

She came out of her reverie, puzzled for a moment. ‘Oh. Dr Graydon.’

They stepped out onto the pedestrian crossing.

‘How are your “quakes” getting along?’

‘We’re still having them,’ she said warily.

‘Oh. I assumed they had stopped, because we haven’t seen you in a few days.’

‘I’m sorry. Assignments … you know. Dad thinks they’re just subsidence.’

‘No,’ the doctor shook his head decisively, ‘Subsidence? No way. Not right on top of the hill. That kind of thing should only happen on the slopes.’

‘OK. Right. Anyway, don’t worry about it. We’re kind of used to them by now.’

‘Look,’ he said, ‘No insult, but that’s just silly. I’ve got some time free later this week. I’ll call your parents and arrange a visit. Action is required.’

‘But you thought it was all a joke,’ said Beth.

But Graydon was already charging across the road, leaving her shaking her head. The dragon won’t like him poking around.

On her way home, she walked through the war memorial park, scooting along between an avenue of yew trees. Gazing between their scabbed, spider-webbed trunks, she could see most of Hemming Heights. A low rise started near the memorial, rising towards her home, before falling again in a series of small, steep slopes towards East Goolgoorook and the golf course. A deceptively normal hill, she thought, and the dragon in there, right at the top, where he fell. Just how much earth would the aborigines have heaped over him? She knew they did it out of apprehension, but also, she suspected, with some kind of respect.

‘No,’ she said beneath her breath. ‘They just deferred the problem for someone else to handle, at some other time.’

52

Sam was home, but their parents weren’t. The windows were all fixed, and in the twilight the lawns appeared to be free of fragments of glass. Horatio hovered in front of her, pumping his gills. He was quite a handsome fish when viewed in the right light.

‘You got rhythm, baby.’

‘Dad says he’s going to put in more fish. Make a bigger tank,’ said Sam, sprawled on a couch reading a comic.

‘Which will fall through the floor when the cellar collapses.’

Sam smiled. ‘Something strange, Beth. The meaner you are to me, the more I love you.’

Beth scowled. ‘That’s just weird, Sam. And I’m not mean. It’s just called self-defence.’

‘Yeah. That’s right. You never start anything, do you?’

‘I have to live with you. That’s my defence.’

‘I want to stop,’ he said, assuming the angel’s face that he normally saved for Abbie or Nick. ‘I don’t want us to end up hating each other.’

‘Look,’ said Beth, ‘I don’t hate you. I’m like that saint or whatever — love the sinner, hate the sin.’

‘St Augustine,’ said Sam.

‘How the hell did you know that?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve been getting a bad feeling. Something’s going wrong, with this house, with Mum and Dad.’

‘So you want us to move to the city?’

‘If it makes us safer. We’re almost there anyway.’

‘Bull,’ Beth said. ‘I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. Don’t be such a dramatist.’

She walked out into the hall. He’s right. She checked the answering machine; no messages. ‘I thought the floor wasn’t strong enough.’

‘When the cellar’s filled, he’ll put more supports in. That’s what he told me,’ said Sam, following her.

‘Leave me be, Sam.’

Beth didn’t feel like doing homework, she hadn’t done a scrap for two weeks. Three assignments were overdue, two essays and a report.

In her mind, playing over and over, was a vision of the dragon plunging from Mount Jugamai, smashing into the soft earth of Hemming Heights. The force of the impact would have half-buried him — in that case, perhaps covering him up would have been relatively easy.

No wonder he didn’t tell me how he ended up in Hemming Heights. Tricked by puny little humans. But what strength he must have, to survive a fall of a thousand metres. I wonder if he suffered.

‘I’ve got something for you,’ Sam said, rummaging in his school bag. ‘Getting into the fairy tales, are we?’ He handed her a heavy, sauce-stained book. Dragons in Literature and History — A Complete Survey.

‘Ms Davis gave it to you?’

‘How I can I tell one old fossil from another? I was going to the bus, and she saw me. Said you’d want it.’

‘Well, thanks,’ said Beth. ‘A project, you know.’

‘I prefer dinosaurs,’ said Sam. ‘At least they were real once.’ His face brightened. ‘Chinese people might have seen dinosaur skeletons. That’s where the myth comes from.’

‘Oh,’ said Beth. ‘That would make sense, I guess.’ She patted him on the shoulder. ‘I’ll go read it.’

She sat at her desk and opened the hard-back book. Dragons cropped up in many mythologies over thousands of years. If they disappeared in one place they’d soon crop up somewhere else. Dragons in History contained a little on Ancient China, but European and Egyptian dragons were covered in some detail. Dragons could be bad or good; it depended on the circumstances. In Western Europe, they were mostly bad, slithering and flying around the countryside eating sheep and terrorising villagers. After a lot of mayhem and upset a knight errant generally showed up on a mission of decapitation. End of story.

‘But what did they look like?’

She discovered a series of coloured plates at the back of the book. She leafed through them, stopping occasionally.

The majority of the dragons depicted were not the resplendent and glossy creatures featured on the covers of fantasy novels, but glorified worms, low-slung and malevolent. In fact, one of the most evil was simply called the ‘Lampton Wurm’ and left a slug-like slime trail. Also known as: Wyvern, Guivre, Lindworm — all ugly critters with too few legs and tiny, useless wings. None of them meshed with her mental image of the creature beneath the cellar. He cannot be like these things. These are just medieval fantasies.

The last plate depicted something called a Heraldic Dragon. Beth sighed with something approaching relief. ‘That’s got to be closer.’

It had a long jaw, sharp horns, a wide snout, paws tipped with what looked like serrated kitchen knives, and a tail perfect for stabilisation while flying. All over, large interlocking scales, and eyes the size of hubcaps. Is that you?

‘Is that what you read to get away from reality?’

Beth flinched, reflexively closed the book.

‘God, Dad. I didn’t even hear you come in.’ She stood and stretched. ‘You’re home early.’

‘Your door was open,’ he said apologetically. ‘I’m glad you were reading, anyway.’

‘I’ll have nightmares,’ said Beth, truthfully. Already she could see the last dragon in the book floating before her mind’s eye. Was it really him? Or was he just a low legless worm, able only to wriggle forth and eat the local livestock?

53

I’m the chef tonight,’ said Nick, putting on a tattered apron. ‘Asparagus and chicken in red vino. Mushrooms simmered in olive oil plus a nice bruschetta with roughly torn basil leaves. Not bad, eh?’

Beth watched as he chopped, fried and diced and the house filled with cooking smells. He seemed relaxed. Yet all was not well, with the house, his kids or his marriage. Maybe part of him sensed impending disaster, but another part was able to go on unhindered. People just blundered on, trusting to chance, lying to themselves about reality.

By the time Abbie walked in, she had only to put her bag down and pick up her cutlery. She managed a smile. ‘Any news on our Len?’ she asked Beth.

‘No. I don’t think so. Mr Flack didn’t say anything to me. But I didn’t have him in any of my classes.’

‘Well. I’ve got some news for you,’ said Abbie. ‘Our branch is going to stay open. We finally convinced management that Goolgoorook has a future.’

Sam cheered, but Beth noticed her mother’s smile was forced.

‘Is there something else, Mum?’

Abbie hesitated. ‘We’re going to move house.’

‘Why?’ gasped Sam. ‘This is the best place in the town.’

You just wanted to move, you contrary little beast.

‘You may not have noticed, but it’s falling down.’

‘But there haven’t been any tremors for a week!’ Sam protested.

‘That’s not true, darling. I saw the cracks in the driveway!’

‘We could fill the cellar.’ Beth wanted to join his protest, but for some reason she remained silent.

‘I’m sorry, honey, but no. Too dangerous. If either of you was hurt …’

‘We won’t go down there. I don’t go …’

‘It’s not just the cellar,’ said Nick with a palpable air of reluctance. ‘It’s the whole thing. Too risky.’ Beth knew her father regarded their home with affection. Her parents had taken out a monster mortgage to get the place built. If he was willing to walk away, Beth realised, he would only be doing so to keep his marriage intact and the family together.

‘But you’ll never get rid of the house,’ said Beth finally, ‘if it’s got these problems.’

‘This is a popular area,’ said Abbie. ‘We’ve got a huge block, and it can be subdivided. And we can get a better house.’

‘I don’t want to hear anymore,’ said Sam. ‘The new house is going to suck. Some crap place with fake pillars and no yard.’

‘You’re being very unfair,’ said Abbie. ‘If this was another family in another house, you’d think they were insane not to move.’

‘This is our home,’ said Sam.

‘I’ll be in my room,’ Beth said and got up to leave the dinner table. Crushed, yet deep down, where dragons affixed their subtle claws, she felt a traitorous sense of relief. Any damage the dragon made to their yard in digging clear would no longer matter. If the house collapsed, no-one would be hurt. She could sneak back into the deserted building to speak with him.

‘Dad, you can’t do it.’ Sam began to cry. ‘This will ruin everything.’ Beth stopped and stared at him.

Nick held up a weary hand. ‘Let’s leave it for a bit. Talk about it tomorrow.’

He lifted his plate, and carried it out to the kitchen, where he could be heard scraping it into Freddy’s bowl. Abbie shook her head and walked away from her unfinished meal.

‘Mum.’

Abbie rounded the corner, heading bedroom-ward. She did not look back.

Sam sniffled once, patted Beth’s arm and departed.

Beth headed straight for her room. Read more about the dragon. Waited.

After midnight, she sneaked out to the garage and grabbed some of the ferns and biscuits left by Henry, returning to sweep away evidence of her passing. Each time she slipped through the back door, she held her breath, but no-one stirred. She had no plausible excuse for being found with such items in her possession. Perhaps sleepwalking, or just plain old insanity.

54

‘Are you there?’

‘Are you?’

‘Not for long. You’ve heard we’re leaving, I suppose?’

‘It won’t affect my escape.’

‘Forget your escape, just for once. It means that because of you, we’re leaving the place where Sam and I grew up.’

‘I didn’t choose to be here,’ said the dragon, so quietly that his words seemed to evaporate before they could be properly heard. ‘Nor did I nominate the day of my reawakening.’

‘I know,’ said Beth.

Time to read the second chapter of Climbing Mount Improbable to the dragon. Every few lines, she was forced to try and explain aspects of genetic theory, and she hoped her memory was serving her well. She spoke of a tiny spiral-shaped chemical found in every cell, containing a very long list of instructions that enabled a whole complex creature to be built. ‘They don’t spell everything out — just manage the composition and nature of growth. Until they make up a functioning creature.’ Whatever that means, she thought.

‘What about me?’ the dragon finally rumbled. ‘My kind, that is.’

‘You must have evolved, too.’

‘Of course I did not,’ the dragon said. ‘My flesh is of an entirely different sort.’

‘Oh. Where did you come from, then?’

‘Not from an invisible speck of matter, I can assure you.’

‘But everything on earth is related,’ Beth argued, feeling combative. ‘All life came from the one source. There’s no such thing as magic. Science can explain almost everything.’

‘Nonsense. Just a trick you play with all of your words. Humans love words — they think that giving something a name somehow explains it.’

Dark, humid scents laced the air. Beth tried to breathe slowly, worried that he was once more attempting to control her mood and thoughts.

‘Did the woman of the first peoples speak to you again?’

Oh God. Mara again.

‘Not since the other day.’

He can’t make me say things, only stop me, and even then, not all of the time. I don’t think he knows when I lie.

‘Are you sure? I thought I could smell some of the plants favoured by the first people when you came in. I would like to know if she does.’

Beth said nothing. Perhaps you can force me to tell you, but not willingly.

‘I think we are finished for today,’ said the dragon. ‘I thank you for the food. A little of it has far more effect than you might imagine.’

Beth mopped at her forehead. It’s hot down here.

‘Soon I will be gone. Not long to wait,’ he called after her, as she climbed the stairs.

In bed, she listened for him, but heard only the usual house noises. After a while, she took out her diary and jotted down her latest notions: He’s some kind of freakish holdover from the age of the dinosaurs. They evolved a way of controlling their prey with a flammable gas. They could ignite the vapour if the animal struggled. If they ran out of food, they’d burrow down and sleep until things changed. Then the humans came and their long reign was suddenly over.

Was it possible that such a thing could evolve? Why did it not appear in the fossil record? Why didn’t the dragons band together and eradicate the humans while they could?

What if he doesn’t know much about himself? Maybe all he knows is how to live, and nothing about what he really is. After all, humans have only known their true origins for a little while.

A few minutes later and her pen slipped from her hands. Later, she dreamed the dragon had shrunk to the size of a gecko, his wings too weak for flight.