Was something wrong?
‘What is it, Mr Akbar?’ Although Mrs Barlow spoke gently, her face showed worry lines.
They all stared, waiting for him to say what was on his mind.
He looked towards the low hills on the horizon as though they held a secret that only he could see. Then he seemed to shake himself back to the present. ‘Oh, I am so humbly sorry that I forget. I have something for the young lady.’ He nodded to Audrey. ‘A gift.’
Audrey suspected he was changing the subject on purpose. But even so, a flash of excitement shot through her. ‘You’ve got a present, for me?’
Mr Akbar reached into a deep pocket in his baggy trousers and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. He rose and stepped towards Audrey. With both hands, he offered the gift.
‘I met a man on the road who asked me if I was travelling this way. I said, “Yes,” so he said, “There is a young lady with eyes green like winter grass, you must give this to her, to remember me by.”’
Audrey unwrapped the cloth. Inside was a sheep jawbone. It had a row of teeth, with one missing, right in the middle.
She grinned. ‘You met Toothless.’
‘Yes, I remember his name had something to do with faces. This man, he makes tea that tastes like tar.’
‘That’s him, all right.’
Audrey leaned forward to show her older brother the jawbone. ‘See, Price? I told you the swaggie had skulls and jaws in his bag.’
‘Mr Akbar.’ Mum’s voice cut sharply through their chatter. ‘Tell me about my husband.’
‘I have not seen your husband.’ He waved a hand towards the sky. ‘It is only … I heard news of a fire near Parachilna. My friend, Jamal, had to run for his life. There was not much time to let his camels go loose. It was a big fire. Much smoke and flames.’
The colour drained from Mum’s face, leaving it whiter than flour. ‘I am sorry to hear about the fire, Mr Akbar. But I am sure my husband will be fine. He’s a strong and clever man. He’s lived in the bush all his life. And, by now, he should be well on his way home. I expect him any day.’
Mr Akbar nodded. ‘Of course. Your husband will be safe.’
But the look in his eyes told Audrey that Mr Akbar was not sure about his own words.
‘That man flew from London on a moth.’
Twenty-three
The kerosene lantern spluttered. Shadow shapes leapt up the lounge-room walls as the flame flickered. Price turned the tiny wheel on the lantern to lengthen the wick, and the flame became strong and steady. He placed the lantern on the small wooden table beside his mother.
In the next room, Douglas muttered in his sleep.
Audrey flung herself down on the kangaroo-skin rug by the empty fireplace. She was excited about sharing the letters with Price and her mother. But not as much as usual. She couldn’t stop thinking about the bushfire. Her mum hadn’t said any more about it. But since they waved goodbye to Mr Akbar, she’d been jumpy and pale.
Besides that, there was a story in Jimmy’s letter that bothered Audrey. She turned the sheet of paper in her hands. There was a second page still in the envelope that she wasn’t going to share.
‘Who’s first?’ Mum rested her foot on an empty wooden crate. She sat on a small armchair with a straight back. It was covered with a blanket knitted in coloured squares. ‘Price?’
Jimmy had written a letter for each of them. Dougie had a drawing of a magpie and a feather. He had fallen asleep with the feather clutched in his hand.
Price sat back in Dad’s battered armchair. The upholstery was faded and worn thin in places. But Dad always reckoned it was the most comfortable chair he’d ever sat in. A second lamp sat on the mantelpiece above Price’s head.
He unfolded his letter. ‘Jimmy says the railway line between Alice Springs and Adelaide is finished.’
Mum draped Audrey’s blue smock-dress across her lap and opened the tin where she kept her mending cotton and needles. ‘Another reason, perhaps, that fewer camels
‘What is it, Mr Akbar?’ Although Mrs Barlow spoke gently, her face showed worry lines.
They all stared, waiting for him to say what was on his mind.
He looked towards the low hills on the horizon as though they held a secret that only he could see. Then he seemed to shake himself back to the present. ‘Oh, I am so humbly sorry that I forget. I have something for the young lady.’ He nodded to Audrey. ‘A gift.’
Audrey suspected he was changing the subject on purpose. But even so, a flash of excitement shot through her. ‘You’ve got a present, for me?’
Mr Akbar reached into a deep pocket in his baggy trousers and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. He rose and stepped towards Audrey. With both hands, he offered the gift.
‘I met a man on the road who asked me if I was travelling this way. I said, “Yes,” so he said, “There is a young lady with eyes green like winter grass, you must give this to her, to remember me by.”’
Audrey unwrapped the cloth. Inside was a sheep jawbone. It had a row of teeth, with one missing, right in the middle.
She grinned. ‘You met Toothless.’
‘Yes, I remember his name had something to do with faces. This man, he makes tea that tastes like tar.’
‘That’s him, all right.’
Audrey leaned forward to show her older brother the jawbone. ‘See, Price? I told you the swaggie had skulls and jaws in his bag.’
‘Mr Akbar.’ Mum’s voice cut sharply through their chatter. ‘Tell me about my husband.’
‘I have not seen your husband.’ He waved a hand towards the sky. ‘It is only … I heard news of a fire near Parachilna. My friend, Jamal, had to run for his life. There was not much time to let his camels go loose. It was a big fire. Much smoke and flames.’
The colour drained from Mum’s face, leaving it whiter than flour. ‘I am sorry to hear about the fire, Mr Akbar. But I am sure my husband will be fine. He’s a strong and clever man. He’s lived in the bush all his life. And, by now, he should be well on his way home. I expect him any day.’
Mr Akbar nodded. ‘Of course. Your husband will be safe.’
But the look in his eyes told Audrey that Mr Akbar was not sure about his own words.
‘That man flew from London on a moth.’
Twenty-three
The kerosene lantern spluttered. Shadow shapes leapt up the lounge-room walls as the flame flickered. Price turned the tiny wheel on the lantern to lengthen the wick, and the flame became strong and steady. He placed the lantern on the small wooden table beside his mother.
In the next room, Douglas muttered in his sleep.
Audrey flung herself down on the kangaroo-skin rug by the empty fireplace. She was excited about sharing the letters with Price and her mother. But not as much as usual. She couldn’t stop thinking about the bushfire. Her mum hadn’t said any more about it. But since they waved goodbye to Mr Akbar, she’d been jumpy and pale.
Besides that, there was a story in Jimmy’s letter that bothered Audrey. She turned the sheet of paper in her hands. There was a second page still in the envelope that she wasn’t going to share.
‘Who’s first?’ Mum rested her foot on an empty wooden crate. She sat on a small armchair with a straight back. It was covered with a blanket knitted in coloured squares. ‘Price?’
Jimmy had written a letter for each of them. Dougie had a drawing of a magpie and a feather. He had fallen asleep with the feather clutched in his hand.
Price sat back in Dad’s battered armchair. The upholstery was faded and worn thin in places. But Dad always reckoned it was the most comfortable chair he’d ever sat in. A second lamp sat on the mantelpiece above Price’s head.
He unfolded his letter. ‘Jimmy says the railway line between Alice Springs and Adelaide is finished.’
Mum draped Audrey’s blue smock-dress across her lap and opened the tin where she kept her mending cotton and needles. ‘Another reason, perhaps, that fewer camels
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