Chapter Twenty

‘The nurses will keep a good eye on you,’ said Ben when he told Tim he was to stay in hospital for the night.

Tim didn’t mind. He had the ward to himself, and the TV. But ten minutes into The Simpsons, he was asleep.

When he woke, the room was dark except for a faint strip of light around the closed door, and there was no noise. It took him a moment to remember he was in hospital.

Heavy with sleep, Tim rolled over to make himself comfortable again.

‘Glad you’re awake.’ The gravelly voice was just a whisper.

Tim’s eyes flew open. There, just inches away, he could see the faint outline of a face; could smell bad breath – garlic and … what? Beer?

He tried to sit up, but a strong hand caught his shoulder, pushing him down, pinning him to the bed.

‘I think you should learn to mind your own business,’ the man rasped. ‘Should learn not to interfere in things that don’t concern you.’ And strong fingers pressed down on Tim’s scars. He glanced at the hand that had him pinned. And he saw … what was that? The fingers tightened and Tim yelped in pain.

Footsteps sounded out in the hallway.

The man hissed and let go.

The door opened and a thin beam of light shone through the darkness. Tim heard shoes squeak softly across the lino floor, and a nurse looked down at him.

‘What are you doing awake, Tim?’ she whispered. ‘Can’t you sleep?’

She reached down and rested a cool hand on his forehead but Tim just stared up at her with frightened eyes.

‘Can I get you anything? A drink of something?’ she asked.

‘A man … There’s a man in here.’ His voice was just a whisper.

The nurse’s brow furrowed. ‘Did you have a bad dream?’ She pulled a chair over and sat down beside him as she switched on the night light. She saw his hands shaking and reached over to cover them with her own. ‘Would it help if you talked about it? Sometimes when you talk about bad dreams—’

‘It wasn’t a dream,’ said Tim, louder this time. ‘There’s a man in here. He … he said something about minding my own business.’

The nurse frowned. ‘No one’s been in here, Tim. The doors are locked. People can’t just wander into a hospital at night. You must have had a dream.’

‘No. No, it wasn’t. I swear.’ He moved to sit up, his hand rubbing his shoulder. He looked about, sure the man would still be there. But he wasn’t.

Where did he go?

‘Is something wrong with your shoulder?’ the nurse asked, leaning over to pull back Tim’s pyjama top.

‘Oh,’ she gasped, seeing the red marks where strong fingers had pressed down on Tim’s skin. She glanced nervously around the room then reached for the buzzer and pressed it until someone came to answer it.

Tara already had her notebook out and her pen ready when she and Duncan walked into the room. ‘Wow,’ she said, ‘you certainly know how to get attention.’ She grinned down at Tim, but her eyes were deadly serious. ‘Tell us about this man.’

The nurse reached over and took Tim’s hand, giving him courage.

‘It was dark … I couldn’t see him,’ he said.

‘Was he wearing a mask?’ asked Duncan.

‘I … don’t think so,’ said Tim.

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Tara.

Tim had to stop and think.

‘Well,’ he said slowly, ‘it didn’t sound like he had a mask on. I mean, if you wear one of those plastic masks, your voice is all echo-y, isn’t it?’

‘What about a cloth mask?’ suggested Duncan.

‘No,’ said Tim. ‘His voice wasn’t muffled. And besides, I could smell his breath.’

Tara’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh. Did it smell like anything in particular?’

‘Garlic. And beer, I think.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Tara as she made a note of this. ‘Not much, but still. Might be helpful. Anything else, Tim? Anything at all.’

Yes, thought Tim. But what?

He was trying to remember what it was when his parents arrived. The nurse stood and Mandy took her place.

‘Can we just go back to Mrs Ragdale?’ said Tara, a moment later. ‘You said that you and Lockie were just coming back from fishing when you noticed the fire. I just wondered, have you and Lockie been out to Mrs Ragdale’s place before today?’

‘Yes, he has,’ said his mother before he could answer. ‘He was out there a couple of weeks ago. With Jacob from the shop. He was taking a grocery order out.’

‘Nothing unusual when you went out there that day?’ asked Tara.

‘Yes,’ said Tim. ‘The shed had collapsed. At least, that’s what Gran … ah, Mrs Ragdale said.’

‘You didn’t believe her?’

‘No. It was alright the week before …’ Tim stopped himself too late.

Silence settled over the room. Eventually Tara spoke.

‘You’d been out there before that?’ she asked.

Tim couldn’t look at his parents.

‘I’ve … ah, been out a couple of times,’ he admitted.

‘And did anything seem, well, not quite right when you were out there? Apart from the shed falling down?’ asked Tara.

‘Well …’ said Tim.

Everyone leaned in, waiting to hear what Tim had to say.

Tim licked his lips. ‘Well …’ he began again. ‘There’s been this man …’

Should he tell them about Barry Baxter?

‘This man …’ urged Tara.

Tim felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He turned, and looked at his father. His father nodded.

Tim turned back to Tara and took a deep breath. ‘His name’s Barry Baxter. I … I think he’s been annoying Mrs Ragdale. I … we … Lockie and me, we heard him say he was going to sort her out. Then last Monday, he was there. He was shouting at Mrs Ragdale. I … I think he wanted her to sell the place …’

Tim let his voice trail off. What if the fire had nothing to do with Oliver’s uncle?

‘Anything else?’ asked Tara.

Tim thought back to Monday afternoon. ‘Ah … he said something about the shed that had fallen over and … Oh!’ Tim gasped as he realised what Barry Baxter had said that afternoon.

‘What, Tim?’

‘He said that the place was only fit for a fire, something like that. Does that mean …’

Only the ticking of the wall clock could be heard as everyone took in this information.

‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ said Tara eventually. ‘This has been extremely—’

‘He said something else,’ said Tim. ‘It was about his dog. Hobo.’

Tara frowned.

Tim wondered if he should have kept quiet about the dog. After all, it had been years ago. And hadn’t Granny Rags said she’d been speeding?

‘The dog, Tim. What about the dog?’ prompted Tara.

Tim sighed. ‘Mrs Ragdale said she hit Barry Baxter’s dog. Years ago. But last Monday, Barry Baxter said he’d make her pay for it.’

Tara scribbled in her notebook.

‘He didn’t say anything to you?’ asked Duncan.

‘No. He didn’t see me. I was under that tree out the front of Mrs Ragdale’s place.’

‘And this was just last Monday?’ asked Tara. ‘Why were you out there that day?’ She didn’t look up, just kept writing.

‘I … ah, took some library books out to her,’ he said, and winced when he heard his mother gasp.

‘And this Barry. You don’t think it was him here tonight?’ Tara asked.

‘No. I …’ Tim remembered the fingers, just inches from his face. Those fingers were too … skinny. Barry’s fingers were pudgy. And …

‘A ring,’ Tim whispered.

‘Pardon?’ said Tara.

‘On his finger. He was wearing a ring.’

‘Who was?’

‘The man here tonight.’

‘Are you sure? You said it was dark in here,’ said Duncan.

‘Yes, but his hand was, like, right next to my face.’ And Tim put his own hand where the man had placed his, then turned his head. His eyes were just inches from his middle finger.

‘Tim?’ asked Tara. ‘What’s the significance of the ring?’

‘There was a man in a ute,’ he said. ‘That’s what I’d forgotten. He stopped to ask us for directions to the creek this morning, and Lockie said he was wearing a ring.’

Excitement surged through Tim as he remembered how Lockie had described that ring – a lion’s head. Roaring. And that’s what he’d seen tonight.

‘What time was that?’ asked Tara.

‘Don’t know. But we’d only just left home. We were walking down the road to the creek.’

‘They left the house at about ten,’ said his mother.

‘Hmmm. That’s a long time before the fire started,’ said Tara, making another note. ‘Did you get a close look at this man?’

‘Sort of,’ said Tim.

‘So you’d know him again if you saw him?’ asked Tara.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Tim. ‘He was wearing a hat. And sunglasses. You know, the sort where you can’t see their eyes.’

‘Reflectives,’ muttered Duncan.

‘Anything else about him that you remember?’ asked Tara.

‘No,’ said Tim. ‘I didn’t even see the ring. It was Lockie who saw that. He told me about it later. But there was something else.’

‘Yes?’ said Tara, leaning forward as if she somehow knew that Tim was about to say something important.

‘Well, when we first noticed the fire, I think I saw that blue ute again. Driving towards town. And I think it was going fast, because there was lots of dust blowing about.’