had described. Cissie was just sitting there on the rock, her arms around her legs. She must have taken her boots off. They sat neatly beside her and a pile of something that might have been long socks or thick stockings as well.
‘I don’t think she’s remembering,’ he said slowly. ‘I think she’s just watching.’
‘Watching what?’ demanded Spike.
‘I don’t know. Nothing. Lots of things,’ he hesitated. ‘I mean, haven’t you ever sat down by the creek and just sort of watched things.’
Spike shrugged. ‘I suppose,’ he admitted. ‘Hey, wouldn’t it be great if something really exciting happened? I mean like bushrangers attacked the garrison and they had this great gun battle, or the convicts revolted maybe. Have they got any convicts up at the garrison? Or pirates—they could sail up the river, then follow the creek up to bury their chests of loot and we could see where they put it—’
‘Not with Cissie there!’ protested Angie. ‘She might get hurt!’
‘Yeah, but …’ Spike shrugged. ‘I mean it’s a great idea, looking back into the past and everything. But it’s not like anything really interesting’s happening. It’s just a kid just sitting there. I mean, if the hole went back to Sydney last century there’d be all sorts of things—convicts and sailors and fights in pubs and—’
‘I …’ Harry hesitated. He didn’t have the words to explain to Spike how he felt.
Angie glared at her brother. ‘You don’t have to stay if you’re bored,’ she informed him.
‘I’m not bored,’ argued Spike. ‘I’m just … give it up will you, Angie! I don’t suppose everyone else wants a swim … okay, okay, I was just asking.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Hey, Angie, if we head back now, we can still see whatsitsname on TV.’
‘But I don’t want to …’ began Angie.
‘Come on!’ urged Spike. ‘Nothing more’s happening here anyway.’
Angie stared at Harry.
He nodded, half eager to see them go. ‘The garrison’s ages away. It’d be hours before Sergeant Wilkes could get back.’
Angie gazed back at the hole. ‘Is … is it okay if we come back tomorrow? So we can find out if they let her stay?’
Harry glanced back through the hole, then back at Angie.
Part of him wanted to refuse. Cissie was his discovery. It was his hole into the past. But on the other hand it’d make it much easier to keep a watch and find out what happened if there were more of them to take turns. And it’d be mean to say no.
‘You won’t tell anyone?’ he asked.
Spike blinked. ‘I suppose not,’ he said. ‘Not if you don’t want us to. Why not?’
‘Because Cissie’s private,’ flared Angie. ‘We don’t want lots of people gawking at her. Things are bad enough for her without people peering at her through a hole.’
‘Sure, sure,’ said Spike hurriedly. ‘Don’t get in a flap about it. I was only asking. Hey, yuk, I’ve got chook dust all up my nose. See you tomorrow,’ he said to Harry.
‘See you,’ said Harry. He watched them wander back across the flat. The chooks glanced at them, just in case they carried something good to eat, then turned back to their scratching—Rubinstein under the oak trees, and Midday Snail ripping up Mum’s petunias again. Mum’d be mad if she saw her.
‘Shoo,’ he said half-heartedly to Midday Snail. Midday Snail ignored him. Harry clapped his hands at her. She strutted off without looking back.
Harry walked slowly over to the main shed. There was no point staying at the hole. Cissie might be there for hours, and Mum’d be calling him for dinner. He didn’t want her to get suspicious if he always came out of the chookshed when she called.
It was odd the way time changed through the hole. It went at the same speed as the modern world while you were looking through it, but then years could pass when you were away. As though just watching fixed it, somehow. But you couldn’t watch it all the time.
The chooks peered at
‘I don’t think she’s remembering,’ he said slowly. ‘I think she’s just watching.’
‘Watching what?’ demanded Spike.
‘I don’t know. Nothing. Lots of things,’ he hesitated. ‘I mean, haven’t you ever sat down by the creek and just sort of watched things.’
Spike shrugged. ‘I suppose,’ he admitted. ‘Hey, wouldn’t it be great if something really exciting happened? I mean like bushrangers attacked the garrison and they had this great gun battle, or the convicts revolted maybe. Have they got any convicts up at the garrison? Or pirates—they could sail up the river, then follow the creek up to bury their chests of loot and we could see where they put it—’
‘Not with Cissie there!’ protested Angie. ‘She might get hurt!’
‘Yeah, but …’ Spike shrugged. ‘I mean it’s a great idea, looking back into the past and everything. But it’s not like anything really interesting’s happening. It’s just a kid just sitting there. I mean, if the hole went back to Sydney last century there’d be all sorts of things—convicts and sailors and fights in pubs and—’
‘I …’ Harry hesitated. He didn’t have the words to explain to Spike how he felt.
Angie glared at her brother. ‘You don’t have to stay if you’re bored,’ she informed him.
‘I’m not bored,’ argued Spike. ‘I’m just … give it up will you, Angie! I don’t suppose everyone else wants a swim … okay, okay, I was just asking.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Hey, Angie, if we head back now, we can still see whatsitsname on TV.’
‘But I don’t want to …’ began Angie.
‘Come on!’ urged Spike. ‘Nothing more’s happening here anyway.’
Angie stared at Harry.
He nodded, half eager to see them go. ‘The garrison’s ages away. It’d be hours before Sergeant Wilkes could get back.’
Angie gazed back at the hole. ‘Is … is it okay if we come back tomorrow? So we can find out if they let her stay?’
Harry glanced back through the hole, then back at Angie.
Part of him wanted to refuse. Cissie was his discovery. It was his hole into the past. But on the other hand it’d make it much easier to keep a watch and find out what happened if there were more of them to take turns. And it’d be mean to say no.
‘You won’t tell anyone?’ he asked.
Spike blinked. ‘I suppose not,’ he said. ‘Not if you don’t want us to. Why not?’
‘Because Cissie’s private,’ flared Angie. ‘We don’t want lots of people gawking at her. Things are bad enough for her without people peering at her through a hole.’
‘Sure, sure,’ said Spike hurriedly. ‘Don’t get in a flap about it. I was only asking. Hey, yuk, I’ve got chook dust all up my nose. See you tomorrow,’ he said to Harry.
‘See you,’ said Harry. He watched them wander back across the flat. The chooks glanced at them, just in case they carried something good to eat, then turned back to their scratching—Rubinstein under the oak trees, and Midday Snail ripping up Mum’s petunias again. Mum’d be mad if she saw her.
‘Shoo,’ he said half-heartedly to Midday Snail. Midday Snail ignored him. Harry clapped his hands at her. She strutted off without looking back.
Harry walked slowly over to the main shed. There was no point staying at the hole. Cissie might be there for hours, and Mum’d be calling him for dinner. He didn’t want her to get suspicious if he always came out of the chookshed when she called.
It was odd the way time changed through the hole. It went at the same speed as the modern world while you were looking through it, but then years could pass when you were away. As though just watching fixed it, somehow. But you couldn’t watch it all the time.
The chooks peered at
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