CHAPTER 4

It isn’t easy getting the creature up and over the sand dunes. Evie lets it rest at the top, but it grunts and groans and pants like a dog. Then it moans and tumbles down the other side, kicking sand everywhere. They sit at the bottom, smiling at each other, spitting out gritty mouthfuls of sand. The creature rests briefly before heaving itself up again.

Francie and Freddie are skulking in the garden but the creature ignores them and plods on. Through hooded eyes, he staggers into the stables. The chickens scatter, but curiosity gets the better of them and, led by Albine, they soon come back for a stickybeak.

Albine is a plump, black-and-white speckled, sweet-natured Cochin chicken. She tries to mother everyone, especially Evie. Their housekeeper, Cook, gave in to Evie having a chicken in the house, but under no uncertain terms are chickens allowed in her bedroom. They’re strictly out of bounds.

The creature sways on his feet with exhaustion. Evie picks up a pitchfork and prepares a straw bed for him in the far stall. It’s the foaling stall and it’s never used these days. Grandpa gave away breeding horses, so there hasn’t been a birth in years. Albine and the ladies pick and peck around him. He gently snuffles them, blowing air out of his nostrils as if he’s introducing himself. The ladies burk burk, making a fuss.

Grandpa says chickens are always good judges of character. Evie can see the ladies are far from scared of the creature.

When Evie finishes making the bed, she leads the creature forward. He collapses with a huff onto the clean, soft straw and fills the water bucket for him and he gulps it down. She returns to the trough eleven more times until he unleashes an enormous burp before lying down.

Evie gathers hay from the loft, but by the time she returns he’s snuffling in his sleep. She leaves the hay close by, in case the creature awakes hungry. The ladies perch on the railing above, clucking softly.

Evie hurries into the house to find Grandpa, but Cook, their extraordinary cook, is blocking the doorway.

“Cook from the ’eart, I do. From me mother and me grandmother and me grandmother’s mother. It’s all in ’ere,” she often says, tapping her temple and then her heart.

Cook is grandmotherly, short and rotund and she wears her apron like a shield. She can be brisk and matter-of-fact, but her heart is as soft as a feather-down pillow. Cook believes a cup of tea and a slice of apple pie can fix just about anything. Her pies are full of sticky, syrupy apples, which are sweet and tangy at the same time, wrapped in a golden crust pastry and sprinkled with sugar. Cook’s cups of tea can cure a variety of ailments from shock to indigestion to the common cold. But she still doesn’t like Evie getting soaked with rain.

“Yer wet again, child. Look at yer! Yer’ll catch yer death of a cold.”

Evie shakes her head and Cook reaches down and feels her stockings.

“Yer drenched. Come on, let’s git yer changed,” she sighs. “Again.”

Despite Cook’s regular scoldings, Evie knows they come from a good place. Cook is always making sure Evie doesn’t catch her “death of a cold” and tells her how grateful she is for her help around the farm. Cook and the house cow, Dominique, don’t get on. So Evie milks “that daft cow” for her and collects the chicken eggs, and leaves them in the pantry.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Cook says to Evie. “You’re inquisitive like yer father and yer grandfather before yer.” Evie loves hearing this; it makes her feel fluttery inside.

But right now, she’s desperate to tell Grandpa about the creature. She slips past Cook and races down the hallway in search of him.

Evie bursts into the study, dripping wet. She sometimes barges in without meaning to, catching Grandpa unaware. She finds him leaning against the mantlepiece of the fireplace and when he looks up, his face is full of sorrow. Every now and then she forgets Papa was his son and how much he adored Mama. The world turns a little darker and Evie goes to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She squeezes tight, until the sadness goes away.

“You’ve been on such a long walk this morning. I was beginning to worry,” says Grandpa, dashing tears from his cheeks and plastering a smile on his face.

The study is their haven. It’s lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with leather-bound books, academic papers, and taxidermy bird specimens. The mantelpiece is full of treasures Evie’s found on her beach walks – feathers and shells, sea urchins and cuttlefish, sea sponges, and driftwood.

Grandpa was once a famed ornithologist and although he hasn’t written a scientific paper for a long time, he’s published hundreds on native, sea and freshwater birds.

The bookshelves also contain live specimens. Claudette, a lithe ginger cat, loves heights and sleeps on the fifth shelf, curled up on a crochet blanket. And Florette, a petite tabby, prefers the cane basket lined with wool on the bottom shelf. They adore this cosy room as much as Grandpa and Evie. When the weather is bleak, the cats don’t leave the shelves.

Evie hops from one foot to another.

“What treasures have you found for me today, Evie? I can see you’re excited,” says Grandpa.

Cook marches into the study, muttering and cursing as she hands a bath towel to Grandpa. She’s come to expect that when Evie returns from her walks, she’ll be wet or muddy, or both.

Evie hurries to the bookshelf and runs her fingers along their cool spines.

“What are you looking for? The Birds of Australia?”

The Birds of Australia is Evie’s favorite book in the whole, entire world. It has an illustration for each bird and lists their scientific and common names, as well as descriptions about habitat and even bird calls. Evie loves to listen out for birds and then guess what species they are.

Grandpa locates the book and gives it to her. She knows her powers of observation are excellent and he relies upon her keen eye to spot different species of birds his failing eyes can no longer see.

He cradles the book in his hands and stares at it with adoration, stroking the front cover. A flash of regret flickers across his face, but it’s only brief. Evie knows Grandpa so well, but she’s often confused by his reaction to it.

It’s a mystery. One day I will find out what it is she thinks.

Grandpa holds the book out to Evie, but she shakes her head. It isn’t the book she’s after today. She pauses to tickle Florette under the chin before she spies the one she’s looking for.

As Evie flicks through Prehistoric Animals: Volume 1, Grandpa towel-dries her hair. The book’s spine creaks as she turns the pages. She soon spots the animal she’s looking for and taps on a picture of a triceratops.

“Is that what you’ve found for me today? A dinosaur? Well, how wonderful.”

Evie slams the book shut. She grabs Grandpa by the cuff of his tweed jacket and drags him toward the door. Laughing, he follows her outside.

“What have you found, Evie?” he asks under his breath, following her into the cool darkness of the stables.