She fell asleep holding the photo, and woke when the birds began to chatter in the trees above. She felt stiff from lying on the ground and the smell of smoke from the car fire lingered around her. She wrinkled her nose. Since living with the Brownings, she’d become used to long hot showers; now she needed to become unused to them again.
But if she could find her way to a beach, she could clean up in the ocean. The thought cheered her and gave her a plan. The cops wouldn’t be looking for her at the beach. They’d be watching bus or train stations. They always had time to look for kids. The silly thing was that if they’d looked for Cass and found her when Pip had asked them to, Pip wouldn’t be here now. When she grew up and joined the police, she’d make some changes.
But that was years away. Right now, she had to get out of the forest.
After a bit more walking, being careful to keep the morning sun on her right to make sure she was heading in the right direction, Pip found the trees began to thin and she soon broke out into an ordinary-looking street. She and Houdini plodded along the footpath, doing their best to look inconspicuous, until they came to a corner store, where she stopped to buy water. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of the chocolate bars displayed on the counter, but Pip didn’t have a lot of money and she didn’t know how expensive the quest to find her mother might be – after all, Byron Bay was still a long, long way – so she decided that she and Houdini would have to go hungry for a while.
As she handed over the money for the water, it was on the tip of her tongue to ask the shop assistant – a bored teenager with bad acne – if he knew how she could get to the beach. But not wanting to draw attention to herself, she kept her mouth shut.
Pip tried to call the Brownings from the public phone outside to let them know she was okay, but the line was busy, so after a drink, she and Houdini kept on walking in the same direction.
She tried to think of the beach and finding her mother – and not that the Brownings didn’t want her anymore or that now she wouldn’t get to help Matilda decorate the Christmas tree they had been going to buy this weekend. Pip didn’t blame the Brownings, not at all. Why would anyone want scrawny, difficult Pip when they already had popular, pretty Matilda, who never did anything she shouldn’t? Or at least nothing serious.
But Cass would want her. For all Pip knew, her mother had spent the last nine years trying to find her. And the moment she saw Pip, Cass would recognise her and know – as Pip did – that they were meant to be together.
Pip was so busy imagining their reunion, in which Cass was overcome to see Pip after all this time, that she was halfway across the motorway bridge before she realised it. When she and Houdini pressed their noses through the security bars, she could see a sign pointing to Sydney, and another pointing north. Unfortunately, there was no sign that said ‘beach’, so at the first opportunity, Pip turned in the direction she thought was probably correct.
It was an inspired decision. Five minutes later, she ran into a gaggle of boys at a bus stop wearing thongs with towels slung over their shoulders. One carried a surfboard.
‘Here it is!’ one of them yelled. Pip turned to see a bus pulling up with the words HALF-MOON BEACH on the front.
Wary after the incident of the MUSEUM bus that hadn’t stopped at the museum, she asked them, ‘Does this go to an actual beach?’
They all sniggered. ‘Nup. It goes to the zoo, doesn’t it, Rabbit?’ one of them said, digging his mate in the ribs.
‘Reckon it’s the circus bus,’ his mate responded.
‘No, it’s goes to the South Pole, this one.’
They all laughed as though they were hilarious.
‘So, it goes to a beach with ocean and sand?’ Pip pressed, ears turning slowly red, as the boys started to climb aboard. She wanted to be sure.
But they just laughed even harder. Pip felt even more stupid, and then the bus doors closed and it lumbered off. The boys waved and smirked at her from the back window.
She and Houdini looked at each other. ‘Spiro would fit in well with that lot,’ Pip fumed. ‘They must be going to the beach. Where else would you take a surfboard?’
Houdini just grinned encouragingly, so they set off again, following the bus until they lost sight of it. But it didn’t matter because by then, Pip had spotted a sign for the beach, and quite a few people seemed to be heading that way in cars and on foot. They joined the throng, and within another twenty minutes, they stood on a paved path that led down to a wide crescent of golden sand that embraced a semi-circular bay of blue water, with a pretty island just off-shore.
The sun had chased the morning’s clouds away, and it was now so bright it turned the sand white and its rays were like fireworks on the water. Pip thought it was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen; it was mesmerising. She knew Sydney had beaches, although she’d never been to one, but she couldn’t imagine that any could be as dazzling as this one. If Byron Bay’s beaches were half as good as this, she’d be very happy.
It looked as every beach should, dotted with umbrellas and sprawled bodies. She saw the boys from the bus stop jostling each other as they jogged across the sand.
Recognising them, Houdini barked, and before Pip could stop him, he trotted towards them, squeezing between Rabbit and one of his mates. Startled, the boy stumbled into one of the others, the impact knocking them both over. His board flew out of his hands and gave Rabbit a sharp clip on the chin, before it dropped to the ground right on the toes of the fourth boy.
‘Ow!’ Rabbit yelled, putting a hand to the spot on his chin where the board had smacked him.
‘That hurt!’ moaned the boy with the bruised toes, hopping about on one foot.
Completely unnoticed by the boys, who were busy blaming, pushing and shoving each other, Houdini sauntered nonchalantly back across the sand to Pip as the sunbathers nearby sniggered at the spectacle.
Grinning, Pip gave Houdini a hearty pat, and was about to step onto the sand when a voice behind her spoke.
‘Nice work, dog.’
Houdini and Pip looked around to see a girl of about eighteen with long dark hair and a big hairy coat sitting on the ground with her back against the wall of a boat shed. She had a guitar in her lap.
‘Thanks,’ Pip replied on Houdini’s behalf, adding, ‘He didn’t mean it.’ At least, she didn’t think it had been intentional.
‘Gotta dollar?’ The girl put her hand out.
Pip was about to say that she needed every dollar she had, but when she peered more closely at the girl, she wasn’t so sure. Her clothes were torn and ragged, but more than that, she had a look of hopelessness about the eyes.
Hoping she wouldn’t regret it later, she held out five dollars. ‘You can get a sandwich if you’re hungry.’
Pip’s stomach chose that moment to rumble, reminding her that she and Houdini hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday and they could have done with a sandwich themselves. But she couldn’t withdraw the offer now.
The girl didn’t take the money at once. In fact, her pale face looked surprised, as though she had expected Pip to say no. Then she drew back her hand. ‘Nah, it’s okay. You keep it.’
Relieved, Pip put the money back in her pocket. ‘Are you a musician?’
The girl looked at her guitar almost as though she’d forgotten she was holding it. ‘I was. Not anymore.’
Pip was intrigued. ‘Why’s that?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ The girl shook her head. It was clear she didn’t want to speak about it, but Pip wondered why she still had a guitar if she wasn’t a musician anymore.
Perhaps it was for the same reason Pip carried around a photo of her mother even though she didn’t have her anymore – as a symbol of hope.
‘I’m Frankie, by the way,’ the girl said suddenly, standing up.
‘We’re Pip and Houdini,’ Pip replied and then could have kicked herself. The quieter she kept about her identity the better.
‘Think I’ll get something from the café. I reckon I can get us a feed for free. You want to come?’
‘No, I’m okay.’ Apart from being short of money, Pip didn’t want anyone else getting too good a look at her. And she needed to get moving – right after she’d dipped her toes in the water. She couldn’t come to the beach and not set foot on it. ‘I have to go soon.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Byron—’ It slipped out before she could stop it.
‘Byron Bay? Well, good luck.’ Frankie drew her coat about her and walked off towards the café.
Ignoring her empty stomach, Pip turned her attention back to the beach. She needed to find a good spot not too close to other people. At all costs, she had to avoid attention. On a warm, sunny day that wasn’t easy. The beach was busy and more people were still arriving.
On scanning the beach, the spot near the rocks seemed to be less popular, though, and Pip had just decided to head for it when a shout from the café had heads turning.
Pip saw Frankie rush out, guitar in one hand and takeaway bag in another, chased by a tall, thin man in a white jacket shaking a fist. ‘You come back here, you little cheat!’
Sprinting over, Pip and Houdini reached the café, panting. Frankie was a way up the street, almost out of sight.
‘What happened?’ Pip asked.
‘Someone should call the cops,’ said the man from the café. ‘That girl, she promised to wash the dishes if I gave her a burger and a drink. Then she takes them and shoots through!’
‘I think she was really hungry.’
‘That’s not my problem.’ The café owner scowled. ‘She’s not getting away with cheating me out of a deluxe beach burger with the lot – including beetroot! I’m calling the police.’
‘Wait! I’ll do the dishes!’ Pip blurted. Poor Frankie didn’t look like she could handle more trouble than she already had. ‘Don’t call the cops!’
The café owner didn’t look convinced. ‘A skinny thing like you? I don’t think so.’
‘I’m strong!’ Pip made a bicep. ‘Anyway, calling the cops won’t get your dishes washed.’
‘That’s true. My kitchen-hand is sick today.’ He scrutinised her for a moment. ‘Well, all right. But don’t make a mess, mind. And that dog stays out here.’
Pip tied Houdini to the rail and followed the man inside to a tiny, cluttered kitchen where a sink was piled high with dirty dishes. No wonder Frankie had scarpered.
Pip had to stand on a stool to reach the sink, but she soon had it filled with hot water and detergent, and in ten minutes she had made a good dent in the pile. Then the man brought in another tray full. Pip’s heart sank. Perhaps she should have asked how many dishes she was expected to wash.
She began to clear leftovers from a plate when she came across half a ham sandwich that hadn’t been touched. Glancing around to ensure she wasn’t being watched, Pip took a big bite, put the rest in her pocket for Houdini and continued washing until there wasn’t a dirty plate in sight. Then she dried everything and put it all away.
‘I’m impressed,’ the café owner said when she walked out of the kitchen. ‘You want a holiday job, you come in and see me.’ He put a meat pie in a bag, wrapped a cookie in a serviette and handed them to Pip. ‘Here you go, love. Now you tell that friend of yours she could learn a lesson in hard work from you.’
Pip’s eyes gleamed at the thought of the pie to eat later. She nodded. ‘Thank you. Um, where’s the nearest station?’
After he gave her directions, Pip collected Houdini and gave him the leftover sandwich and some water as she watched the ocean. The boys were skylarking in the surf now and she was disappointed that she’d made it all the way to the beach without at least paddling in the shallows, but the day was slipping away and she needed to move on.
Under a hot afternoon sun, they set off for the train station, where Pip hoped she could catch a train that would take her to Byron Bay. It seemed to take forever as they kept stopping for water and a rest, and when they finally found the station, Pip was sweaty and exhausted, and Houdini wasn’t at all happy with her.
As they shared a drink from the bottle she’d managed to fill from a water bubbler, Pip was looking around for a map of the train route, wondering how far her remaining money might take her, when a hand slapped down hard on her shoulder. A voice in her ear said, ‘Gotcha!’