The branch cracked and dropped as Ashley sawed through the last part of it. She picked up the fallen piece, stacked it on the neat pile with the rest of the logs and straightened up. She’d been working on it all week, but the many small branches of the swamp mahogany that had fallen beside the house and smashed her bedroom window were all cut up now and she was much better at using a handsaw than she had been. Micky had chainsawed the bigger trunks into sections and together they’d stacked all the wood into a neat pile. It would be next year’s firewood, apparently.
Ashley faintly heard the phone ringing inside the house, and then heard Micky answer it. She put down the saw and sat on the grass for a rest, pulling down her hat to keep the sun off.
The past seven days she’d done the hardest physical work of her life, but together Ashley and Micky had finally cleared all the storm debris from the garden. They’d cut back broken branches, raked up fallen leaves, used stakes and ties to try to repair plants that had fallen over or been damaged, and generally tidied up.
Fortunately ex-tropical Cyclone Jasper had well and truly blown itself out and the spring weather was sunny and clear. The creek had gradually fallen, the floodwater had mostly drained away, the roads were all open again and the world was getting itself back in order.
But the best thing about the week had been Dexter’s recovery. He’d gone from near death to being a furry bundle of energy in just a few days. He’d quickly graduated to grabbing the bottle with both paws so he could swallow more quickly. He was eating fresh leaf too, though sometimes, looking at the floor of his room, Ashley could swear he was just pulling all the leaves off the branches that she’d cut for him and dropping them for his own amusement.
It was true, what everyone said about the work involved in caring for a joey. As well as all the garden work, every day Ashley had to clean the floor of Dexter’s room and wash all the towels and blankets — often more than once. All the feeding equipment had to be immaculate, so she was now an expert in sterilisation and making sure everything stayed clean during the process of warming up the formula and getting it into Dexter’s mouth. She held him while Micky administered the injections of antibiotics, and she weighed him and kept notes on his progress.
As he improved, Dexter quickly formed a routine of sleeping for much of the day, and playing and eating for most of the night. Ashley loved being in the room when he played, and it meant she wasn’t getting much sleep. But she didn’t care.
Dexter, it turned out, had a really sweet personality. Micky reckoned that koalas were very individual — some could be cranky, some solitary, some clingy. Dexter was affectionate and playful. He loved sitting on Ashley’s lap for a feed and cuddling up with her afterwards. But then he’d jump off, bound up the tree and start throwing leaves around. His climbing was improving every day too — just that morning he’d made his first leap from one branch to another rather than climbing down and up again. He’d wobbled on landing, but once he was secure, he’d sat up and looked at Ashley as if to say, ‘Did you see that?’ It had made her laugh out loud.
It was hard to hold herself back with him. She could have spent most of every night cuddling Dexter and playing with him. She knew he wouldn’t have minded. But Micky had cautioned her. ‘It’s a fine line,’ she’d said. ‘He needs enough company to know he’s not alone, but not so much that he becomes domesticated.’
So Ashley had schooled herself. She didn’t try to cuddle Dexter, except when he clearly wanted to come to her. She let him be the one who made the choice.
It worked well most of the time, but Dexter didn’t seem to know that he wasn’t meant to play with a human. Ashley had put her makeshift bed in the corner of his room so that she could hear when he needed food, and it felt like he spent most of the night trying to wake her up to play. If she came to the climbing frame, he’d scramble onto her arm, crawl up to her shoulder and snuffle in her ear. Then he’d scramble back onto the tree and head for the leaves again. He’d drop a few on her head and scramble over to another branch.
Ashley would get back onto her own mattress and pull up the covers, and Dexter would start calling her. Yip yip yip. Yip yip yip. Sometimes he wasn’t even hungry. Sometimes he just wanted her to come and stand at the foot of the tree while he played.
His favourite thing was being scratched on the back. He’d close his eyes and lean in, shifting around so Ashley could reach the different itchy bits. He loved it, and so did she.
Ashley found herself smiling just thinking about it. It didn’t matter what Micky said: she was attached to Dexter. She loved him.
‘Hey, Ash! Come and have a drink!’
Ashley scrambled to her feet and headed into Toad Hall. Micky had made up some cordial and put out a few biscuits and Ashley realised she was thirsty — and hungry. She took a big bite of biscuit and gulped some cordial.
‘That was your mother on the phone,’ Micky said. ‘She said she’s been leaving you messages on the mobile, but you haven’t answered.’
‘Oh.’ Ashley wiped her mouth. The mobile had been off for a few days. She’d got sick of the flood of messages from Emma. Each one reminded her that she’d have to tell her parents about Puppy. She still didn’t know what to do about it.
‘She’s got some good news. Your dad’s got a job. They’re pretty relieved, by the sound of it. And they want you to come home so you can help celebrate, and hang out with them for the last few days of the holidays.’
‘But — I thought I’d be staying here till the end of the holidays,’ Ashley said, dismayed.
Micky shook her head. ‘Doesn’t look like it. Your mother’s got you on a flight tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow! But what about Dexter?’
Micky smiled. ‘You’ll have to say goodbye to him soon anyway, Ash. Tomorrow’s as good a time as any.’
‘But what will you do when I’m gone? How will you look after him?’
‘I’ll miss the help, that’s for sure,’ Micky said. ‘But I’ll only have him for another two or three weeks. I’ve been putting the word out through the carers’ network. One of the other carers up in the hills is going to take him. As soon as he’s out of quarantine, he’ll go in with her two joeys. They’re already in the outdoor enclosure, and he’ll join them.’
Ashley stared down at the biscuit that she suddenly didn’t feel like eating.
‘You knew this would happen,’ Micky said.
‘But not so soon!’
‘You’ve got one more night with him,’ Micky said. ‘Enjoy it, eh? And this afternoon, we’ve got a treat. We’re going to head back down the hill and release Jemima. It’ll be tough out there with so many trees gone, but she’s got to take her chances.’
‘Won’t you miss her?’ Ashley asked.
Micky gave a small smile. ‘Not really, Ash. It’s a great feeling to release a koala from care. Makes all the hard work worthwhile. You’ll see.’
Ashley felt her lip wobbling. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to leave Dexter.
‘Hey,’ Micky said gently. ‘Cheer up. You’ll be able to say hello to Dexter’s family down there and tell them he’s OK.’
Youngster wakes as the Bright fades. For the first time he’s slept wedged in the fork of the tree instead of in the basket. He reaches a claw over and scratches his back, then uses a hind leg to scratch his belly.
He’s hungry, and he wants to play with her. He raises his head. Yip yip yip.
She always comes when he calls and it’s not long before he hears the sounds of her approach, and then she’s there, making her noises, reaching out to him. He can’t speak to her the way he did to his mother, but she knows when he is hungry and she knows when he wants a scratch. He backs down the tree and climbs onto her.
Then he halts and sniffs. She smells of something different, something familiar, something he’s almost forgotten. It is a trace of home, a trace of the trees where he and his mother lived, and with the scent of leaf his memory comes back.
The Tall, The Hidden, The Dry, The Hungry, The Safe, The Delicious, The Seeing, The Meeting Place. The world he and his mother shared, back then, with the rest of the colony nearby. The only world he knew.
He sniffs and sniffs, hoping, even now, for a trace of his mother. He can smell, faint as a distant memory, the big male and some of the others. But of his mother, nothing.
‘Yip yip yip,’ she calls to him. It sounds nothing like his mother, but he knows it means food and touch.
Yip yip yip, he calls back. He wishes she could climb.