Ashley woke as the Argo bumped to a halt. She blinked and straightened her stiff neck. ‘Are we there?’
‘Nearly.’ Micky wiped the windscreen with her sleeve. The wiper went back and forth with a clatter and the windscreen was so fogged up that Ashley could barely see ahead of them.
When she’d fallen asleep, they’d been driving smoothly down the highway, but now they were in a gloomy forest. She peered out. She could dimly see a dirt road through endless ranks of tall trees.
‘Can you see the number on the sign?’ Micky asked.
‘I can’t see any sign,’ Ashley said grumpily.
‘The flood-level sign, kid. Hop out and have a look, would you? It needs to be below 0.6 for us to get across the causeway. If you can’t see 0.6, we’re stuffed.’
Ashley opened the door a crack. The rain was still falling and now it was windy too, blowing the drops into her face. She’d only just managed to dry off a little from the airport and now she was going to get soaked again.
She jumped to the ground, landing in ankle-deep muddy water, which immediately ran into her shoes. In front of the Argo, a wide stream of water ran right across the road. Some distance in, a tall, thin white sign poked out with the flood-height levels marked on it. The bottom of the sign was covered, but she could read the numbers above the water level.
She hopped back into the car, using the handle above the window to pull herself up. ‘It’s 0.4.’
‘Just a nice little paddle,’ Micky said, and revved. The Argo rolled forwards into the water, which sprayed up on either side of them as if they were in a boat. It wasn’t very deep, but the stretch of water was very wide.
‘Is it dangerous?’ Ashley asked.
‘Not at 0.4. Get above 0.6 and we could find ourselves taking a little trip downstream,’ Micky said. ‘Only four cars have washed away this year, so don’t worry too much. It helps having a car named after a ship.’
Ashley couldn’t work out when her aunt was joking and when she was serious. ‘What do you do if the water’s higher than 0.6?’
Micky answered without taking her eyes off the road. ‘Depends how lucky you’re feeling. You turn around and find somewhere else to stay, or you drive in and chance it. But it’s very expensive if the engine floods. And a bit hairy if you get swept off the causeway and find yourself upside down in the creek.’
Ashley stared at her. ‘A bit hairy?’
‘Yeah.’ Micky didn’t return the look. ‘Hairy. You know, the kind of thing where you wish you’d thought harder about it before you started. Mostly I just stay at home if it looks like the road’ll get cut off. We’re all used to it up here — it happens every couple of years. Last year it was three weeks. They had to drop in supplies by helicopter.’
Shocked, Ashley scrubbed at her own foggy window and stared out through the clear patch. Somehow as she’d dozed they’d left the urban area of the Gold Coast and entered some weird new world. It looked like a jungle out there — thick, dark vegetation, big, heavy vines twisting and hanging from the trees, and the Argo swishing through the moving water as if it really was a ship like its namesake. It felt like the kind of place where you could easily get stuck for three weeks. Or forever.
‘Made it!’ Micky hit the wheel triumphantly as they emerged from the water. ‘Go the Argo! Legend!’
‘I thought it was safe,’ Ashley said.
Micky shrugged. ‘Safe, schmafe. You can always hit a pothole on the causeway and tip over. Nothing’s safe, my girl.’
Ashley wondered if her mother knew that Micky lived on the wrong side of a dangerous river crossing. ‘Has Mum ever visited you up here?’
‘Sure!’ Micky said, flooring the accelerator and forcing the Argo into a rattling high speed, making them bounce as they hit potholes every few seconds. ‘Years ago. In the dry season. No problem with the causeway, but I think she found it all a bit primitive.’
As the Argo strained up a steep hill, the trees thinned out and the gloom lifted a little.
‘We’re coming into koala habitat,’ Micky said. ‘Notice how the vegetation just changed? Back down at the creek it’s rainforest, but as we climb up to the ridge it’s open eucalypt forest. The soil’s different, you see.’
‘I am on school holidays, you know,’ Ashley said. ‘Geography finished last week.’
Micky turned the big steering wheel hard and the Argo swung into a driveway and skidded to a halt in front of a metal gate. ‘It’s not geography. It’s my life. Could you do me the honour?’
‘What?’
‘The gate, kid. Close it after you.’
Ashley got out, shaking her head. Her feet went straight into a puddle again, but she was past caring. She stumbled to the gate and saw a wooden nameplate with Toad Hall carved into it. She sighed. She’d liked The Wind in the Willows when she was about eight. Did this mean her aunt had never grown out of it?
She dragged the gate around and Micky roared through, splashing her with muddy water. Ashley dragged the gate closed again, dropped the latch over the peg and turned. Micky had kept driving without her and Ashley started to run after the Argo, splashing through the puddles. She caught up as Micky pulled to a halt outside the strangest house Ashley had ever seen.
It was made of — well, as far as she could see, just about everything. The front wall was some kind of brick or stone, broken up by two curved windows. There was grass on the roof, bits of tin and wood sticking out at weird angles, and the bottoms of green bottles cemented into the wall.
‘Like it?’ Micky called as she hopped out. ‘Don’t just stand there — you’ll get soaked. Be my guest — head inside. Shoes off at the door. I’ll bring your bag.’
Ashley wasn’t going to wait for the offer of help to come a second time. She bolted for the little porch with its curved roof, where a jumble of boots spilled over the ground and coats of all descriptions hung on hooks embedded in the wall. She kicked off her sodden shoes, pushed the door and stepped inside.
A cosy warmth radiated, engulfing her, and she stopped shivering almost immediately. On the far wall an old-fashioned wood stove was burning happily. By the look of it, that’s what Micky actually used for cooking, for no other stove was in evidence in the tiny kitchen.
There was a bang behind her as Micky crashed through the door and put down the suitcase. ‘Let’s get the kettle on. You’ll need a cuppa: you look a little damp.’
Ashley looked down. Muddy water was running off her and forming a puddle on the floor. She could feel the rain dripping from her hair. A little damp? Please.
‘I don’t drink tea. Can I have a Coke?’ she asked.
‘It’ll rot your insides and send you mad,’ Micky said. ‘Won’t have that stuff in here. Don’t worry, once you’ve tasted my chai, you’ll never drink Coke again. Go and get changed. Your room is just up those stairs. Bring your wet clothes back down.’
She pointed at a winding staircase that looked barely wide enough for Ashley to climb at all, let along drag her bag up. The house looked indeed as if Toad might have designed it, with its funny angles and corners.
She hoped Micky was going to offer to help with the bag again, but she headed over to the wood stove, opened the door and began stoking up the flames. Ashley watched for a moment, then started up the stairs, dragging the bag behind her, squeezing it around the tight corners.
The room was so tiny there was only space for the bed, a chest of drawers and a spot to put the suitcase. A small bookshelf with some old books and a lamp were attached to the wall next to the bed, which was covered with a patchwork quilt. A round window looked straight out into the trees outside. Ashley knelt on the bed and pressed her face to the glass. The wind was still blowing and the rain was falling in a steady kind of way. The trees swayed and, above them, she could see heavy grey clouds.
She opened her bag, found some dry clothes and started peeling off her wet ones. It was only when she pulled off her soaking wet jacket that she remembered her phone in the pocket. She snatched it out and stared down at it in dismay. It was kind of wet.
Ashley flung the phone down on the bed — though, as always, not hard enough to damage it. She supposed it didn’t make much difference either way, given the flat battery. As she looked around the room, she realised there was no spare power point either.
She pulled off the rest of her sodden clothes and dressed herself in the dry ones with a sigh of relief. She used the towel on the bed to dry her hair, bundled up the wet clothes and the phone, and squeezed back down the winding staircase.
Micky was pouring out some steaming, milky drink into a big mug. ‘You don’t look so much like a drowned rat now. Get this into you.’
Ashley took the mug and held up her phone. ‘Can I charge this?’
Micky held out her hand and Ashley gave the phone to her. Micky pocketed it.
‘Hey!’
‘Sorry. Your mother said no phone while you’re here.’
Ashley stared at her, aghast. ‘You’ve got no right to do that!’
Micky pushed a pot of honey towards her. ‘Chai tastes much better with honey. Big spoonful, good stir. Anyway, what do you want a phone for?’
‘Didn’t Mum tell you?’ Ashley snapped. ‘My best friend got her puppy today and I was meant to get mine too, from the same litter, only I’m not allowed now because Dad has lost his job. So, you know, I’d actually like to talk to my best friend. And maybe see a photo or two.’
Micky shrugged. ‘That’s only going to make it worse, as far as I can see. But you can give her a call on the landline if you want.’
The landline was on the wall near the kitchen — and it was the old-fashioned sort with a receiver attached. Not exactly private. Ashley put down her cup so hard that its milky contents splashed over the countertop. ‘You don’t know what’s best for me, and neither does Mum. My heart is breaking, and no one cares!’ She stamped over to the lounge and flung herself down on the chair, her bottom lip stuck out and her arms crossed. She could feel tears threatening again.
‘Settle down. At least your puppy is still alive. You’ll get over it.’ The way Micky spoke suggested she didn’t care much what Ashley was feeling. ‘Drink up. Everything looks better after a chai.’
Ashley hesitated a moment, looking up at her strange aunt. Much as she hated to admit it, Micky was probably right. Looking at photos of Emma and Bella was just going to make her feel worse.
She sipped the chai, ready to spit it out if it was disgusting. But it wasn’t. To her surprise, it was sweet and milky and kind of spicy, nothing like the tea her mother drank.
Micky’s face softened and she grinned. ‘There you go. Finish up, and I’ll introduce you to a drop bear.’