Chapter Ten

Back on the dirt track, Tim dropped his backpack and waited for Lockie to catch up with him.

‘What’s y’hurry?’ said Lockie as he squeezed between the gate and the post.

Tim shrugged. ‘Don’t know,’ he said. ‘The place just gave me the creeps after, you know, the dog and everything.’

‘Don’t y’like dogs?’ asked Lockie.

‘It’s not that,’ said Tim. ‘It’s just that, I don’t know, those guys … There’s something weird about them. You know, dodgy.’

‘Y’think so?’ said Lockie. ‘Can’t imagine that. Y’know that was Oliver’s uncle, don’t ya?’

‘Yeah, and I think Oliver’s dodgy too,’ said Tim.

‘Cripes, don’t let ‘im hear y’say that,’ said Lockie. ‘Y’know what he’s like. I thought he was gunna deck ya the other day when y’said that about his dad bein’ an office girl. Reckon it was lucky I was there to turn it into a joke.’

‘Yeah, thanks for that,’ mumbled Tim. ‘What’ll we do now?’

‘We could go exploring down by the creek if y’want to,’ said Lockie.

‘We’ve already done that,’ said Tim.

‘Yeah, but I’ll show y’somethin’ y’didn’t see last time. Come on.’

Tim shouldered his backpack and followed Lockie. They walked in silence past the waterhole where only last Sunday they’d caught fish, and continued along the narrow track until they reached the next big waterhole. Last time they’d been here, a mob of cows and calves had come down for a drink. Today, everything was quiet and still.

‘You ever think about going for a swim down there?’ asked Tim, looking down at the water, which was shaded by weeping willows and surrounded by a tinge of green grass.

‘What, swim in a waterhole that’s got a croc in it? No way,’ said Lockie. ‘Come on. I gotta show ya somethin’.’ And he set off again, walking further along the creek bank before Tim could say any more about swimming.

Tim glanced longingly down at the water one last time before following. Up ahead he could see a curve in the creek and he wondered where they were going to end up. But then the long grass thinned and he found they’d come to a track that led down to a gravel creek crossing and up the bank on the other side.

‘Where does it go?’ Tim asked. ‘The track, I mean.’

‘I’ll show ya,’ said Lockie over his shoulder. ‘Come on.’

Tim expected Lockie to take them down to the crossing and over to the other side of the creek, but instead they went the other way, and Tim found himself following the overgrown track through a paddock of long dry grass.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked Lockie.

‘Y’ll see. Not much further. Just round a corner and up a bit. Come on.’

Tim rolled his eyes. Where was Lockie taking him this time?

When they turned the corner, Tim realised that they must be heading back towards town, but he was sure he’d never been on this track before.

‘Are we back in the old Russell farm?’ he asked, feeling totally disoriented.

‘Not quite,’ said Lockie. ‘Y’should be able t’see it soon, I reckon.’

‘See what?’ asked Tim. All he could see were tumbled-down fences, a few straggly bushes and some gum trees dotted about.

‘There,’ said Lockie suddenly, pointing along the track.

Tim frowned. What was that ahead of them? A … chimney?

‘Whose house is that?’ asked Tim.

‘Don’t y’know?’ said Lockie. ‘It’s Granny Rags’ place. We’re just comin’ from the other side. This is the track that goes past the front of her house.’

Only then did Tim realise they had done a complete circle and instead of going down the track to Granny Rags’ house, they were now walking back up the track from the other direction.

‘Y’know where we are now?’ said Lockie.

‘Yes,’ said Tim. ‘Let’s go visit her.’

But before Lockie could answer, they heard the sound of a vehicle behind them.

‘It’s them,’ said Tim, glancing back. ‘Barry and that other bloke. Quick, hide.’

‘Up here,’ said Lockie, already scrambling up the small ridge at the side of the track. He ducked behind a clump of spindly bushes and pressed himself to the ground.

Tim clambered after him, scratching his arm on a thorn as he dived down beside him.

The vehicle drew closer and slowed. Tim, pressing a hand down on his bleeding arm, peered out through the bushes and watched as it came to a stop right beside their hiding place, the engine idling.

‘Who is it?’ whispered Lockie.

‘Shhh. It’s them again,’ Tim hissed back.

‘What do you think?’ Tim heard from the landcruiser.

‘Just what I’m after,’ came the reply.

Tim moved his head a little and looked straight at Barry, who was sitting in the passenger seat, his arm dangling down the side of the landcruiser. He couldn’t have been more than a metre or two away. And behind him, the dog had its head out the half-opened window, panting.

‘She could be a problem,’ said Ray.

‘Who? Mrs Ragdale?’ Barry chuckled. ‘No, you just leave that to me. I’ll sort her out,’ he said. ‘Won’t I, girl?’ And he turned around and patted the dog. The dog panted harder.

‘What’s happening?’ whispered Lockie as he shifted to try and get a better look.

A twig snapped.

The dog’s ears twitched. It stopped panting, and looked about before giving a deep-throated growl.

‘What is it, girl? Seen a rabbit?’ said Barry, scanning the paddock beside them. Tim ducked as Barry’s eyes swept towards them.

‘Don’t let her out,’ snapped Ray. ‘We’ll never get her back. Jeez, Barry, I don’t know why you can’t train her properly.’

‘She’s only a pup, aren’t you, girl?’ protested Barry. ‘These things take time.’

‘Yeah, well, if you don’t do it soon, she might run out in front of a car and get skittled.’

Barry’s reaction took Tim by surprise. He spun around and grabbed hold of Ray’s shirt. ‘Anyone runs over my dog’s gunna pay,’ he hissed. ‘You understand?’

‘Okay, okay. Keep your shirt on. I’m just saying—’

‘Well don’t,’ said Barry, letting go of Ray’s shirt, pushing him away. ‘Come on, I’ve seen enough. Let’s get going.’

Ray put the landcruiser into gear and it crawled off down the track. The last Tim heard was ‘Take it slow past her place. I want her to know we’ve been here’, then Barry laughing.

‘Did y’hear that?’ said Lockie, backing out of the bushes once the landcruiser was gone. ‘And who’s Mrs Ragdale?’

Tim frowned. ‘That’s Granny Rags,’ he said. ‘That’s her real name.’

Lockie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? Gee, I didn’t even know she had a real name—’ He was about to say more, but Tim cut him off before he could say something stupid about witches.

‘I don’t like it. Lockie, I think Granny Rags is in danger.’

‘Yeah, it did sound like Barry was plannin’ somethin’, and I don’t think it’s gunna be very nice. Whatta y’reckon we should do?’

Tim looked at Lockie. This was the first time since he’d met him that he seemed to be taking something seriously. ‘I think we should go and warn Granny Rags,’ he said. ‘Now, seeing we’re here.’

‘Hey, hang on,’ said Lockie. ‘None of this “we” stuff. You can go warn her if you like, but I ain’t goin’ into her house. No way.’

‘You have to walk past it anyway,’ said Tim. ‘Unless you’re going to walk all the way back around the creek.’

‘Nah,’ said Lockie, thinking. ‘Tell y’what. You go and see ‘er and I’ll wait till y’get inside. Then I’ll duck past and go and wait for ya at the mailbox.’

By the way Lockie clamped his lips together then, Tim knew there was no point arguing.

‘Mrs Ragdale? Are you there?’ Tim stood at the side of the old house, listening.

‘Hello? Mrs Ragdale?’ he called again. But all he could hear was the breeze rustling the leaves in the tall gum trees. His heart thumped as he made his way around to the back of the house.

A movement out of the corner of his eye startled him. He ducked and fell backwards just as a broom whizzed past his ear.

‘Oh, it’s you.’ Granny Rags lowered her weapon, and reached down to help Tim to his feet. ‘Sorry about that. Thought you were someone else.’

‘It’s … okay.’ His hands were shaking so he tucked them into his pockets. ‘I just …’

What was he going to say? That someone was planning to sort her out?

Granny Rags leaned on her broom, waiting.

‘Ah, I just came to tell you that … ah … we didn’t go fishing today. So, you know … I couldn’t bring you any fish.’

‘You came all the way out here just to tell me you weren’t coming?’

‘Well, no, not exactly. We, ahm, went exploring today. Because we didn’t go fishing, and, well, there were these two men …’ He paused, not knowing what to say.

‘You mean Barry Baxter and friend,’ said Granny Rags.

Tim’s eyes rounded. ‘You know about Barry?’ he asked.

Granny Rags’ lips tightened and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the broom. She was looking beyond Tim, out at the track. ‘Oh, yes. I know about Barry. Some people,’ she said into the distance, ‘just can’t take no for an answer.’

Then her eyes focused back on him. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, and she reached forward to touch his left arm.

Tim pulled away, his shoulder suddenly aching.

‘You’re bleeding,’ said Granny Rags.

Tim looked down. ‘Oh, I scratched it on a …’ He didn’t want to say he’d been hiding in the bushes – from Barry Baxter. ‘… down at the creek,’ he finished weakly.

‘Well, you’d better come in and I’ll clean it up,’ said Granny Rags.

A few minutes later Tim was sitting at the kitchen table, his scratch washed and covered with a bandaid.

‘Can’t be too careful,’ said Granny Rags, closing her first-aid kit. ‘Now, how about a drink, and something to eat?’

As Tim made his cordial drink, not too strong this time, Granny Rags switched on the jug. Then she opened a packet of Nice biscuits and put some on a plate.

‘So, when am I going to meet your friend Lockie?’ Granny Rags asked as she poured herself a cup of tea.

‘Ah, I don’t know,’ said Tim, wondering if Lockie was already down at the mailbox waiting for him. ‘Perhaps if we go fishing next weekend, we could bring some fish down for you.’

‘Yes, do that,’ said Mrs Ragdale. ‘I enjoyed the last one. And I’d like to meet this friend of yours. You said he plays football, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. And he’s asked me to go to a “bring a friend” day at the football club.’ Tim waited to see what Granny Rags would think of that.

Across the table she clasped her hands together and beamed at him. ‘You’ll enjoy that, Tim Trickett.’ Tim wasn’t so sure, but he nodded anyway.

‘Ah, do you … miss going to the football matches?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Tim, I do,’ she said. ‘I used to watch the big games on the television, but it stopped working and I’ve never bothered to get it fixed.’

For a moment she seemed lost in the past. Then she looked back at Tim. ‘Well, I’d better not hold you up,’ she said, draining her tea cup. She stood, leaving Tim no choice but to stand as well.

‘So, I’ll see you next weekend then,’ he said as he walked down the back steps.

‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she called after him.

Tim stopped then, and turned back. ‘Mrs Ragdale,’ he started, not sure what to say. ‘You’ll … ah, you’ll be alright, won’t you?’

A shadow seemed to pass over Granny Rags’ face, then she nodded. ‘Yes, Tim Trickett. I’ll be alright.’ She turned and walked back into the house without another word.