Lucy tiptoed across the room, as if she was afraid she might frighten the figure in the picture. The more she looked at the painting, the more it seemed as though it wasn’t simply a picture, but a window – a window into another world.
A cool breeze wafted from the wall, and the air was sweet and clean, not fusty as the old room usually smelled when the windows were shut.
Lucy looked over her shoulder, back to the dark doorway that led to the hall. It felt as though not only Aunty Big but the house itself was asleep – except for the springtime painting on the wall. It shimmered with life and movement. Lucy stepped closer to the picture and stretched out her right hand. When her fingertips touched the painted wall, they slipped straight through. Warmth shot up Lucy’s arm. She pulled her hand away as if she had been electrocuted. But her hand didn’t feel sore. It didn’t hurt at all. A tingling feeling radiated up her arm. It was like the pleasant rush of blood she felt stepping out of a hot shower into a cold bathroom.
As she stood staring into the landscape, the tiny distant figure turned away from her, walked through the pasture and began climbing up the hill. Very faintly, she heard the girl call her name again. Lucy knew she should feel afraid but instead she was seized by a strange longing. It was as if the girl was summoning her into a wonderful dream. Lucy took a deep breath and stepped into the field of yellow flowers.
The warm rush that had enveloped her hand encompassed her whole body. Her cheeks stung as if they’d been lightly slapped and her tummy grew woozy, as if she’d been swooping through the air on a fairground ride. Then the moment was over and she was inside the painting. Lucy looked over her shoulder and saw the outside–inside room had disappeared. She was standing in the middle of a field of yellow dandelions. I must be dreaming, thought Lucy.
The tiny figure of the other child didn’t look so far away now. Lucy stared hard at the person running through the long grass. She was singing in a loud, sharp voice. Lucy heard the tune drift across the morning air – for it was no longer night but a bright, sunny morning inside the painting.
The singing child stopped abruptly in her tracks, turned towards Lucy and waved.
‘Lucy-lu!’ she called down the hill, ‘Hurry up!’
Intrigued that the girl knew her name, Lucy ran towards her. As she drew closer, she saw that the girl had long, swinging gold plaits and a wide, laughing mouth. She was dressed in a pair of pale-green dungarees and a yellow shirt with a scalloped collar. She was almost exactly the same height as Lucy but there was something very young and cheeky about her expression, like a toddler who was about to do something mischievous.
‘Oh,’ said the girl. ‘You’re not our Lucy. Our Lucy was there a minute ago. Did you see her? She must have run inside. She’s such a baby.’
‘I’m no baby. And I may not be your Lucy, but I’m someone’s Lucy.’
‘Lucy Someone,’ said the other girl. ‘I like your costume.’
‘Costume?’ Lucy looked down at her flowery pink-and-yellow cotton pyjamas and blushed.
‘What are you doing in our valley? I suppose you came up the river,’ said the loud girl, shading her eyes with one hand and scanning the wide blue river that snaked through the valley. ‘Is that your boat?’ she asked, pointing down to where a small rowboat was moored at the end of a jetty.
‘No, it’s not my boat, I came—’ began Lucy. But before she could finish her sentence the other girl grabbed her wrist and shouted ‘Run!’
‘Why are we running?’ Lucy panted breathlessly as they tore up the hillside towards the bush.
‘Because I just realised who that boat belongs to! It’s that rat Jimmy Tiger. Don’t stop. He mustn’t see either of us.’
They dove under a bush that was covered in spiky, bright-red flowers.
‘Is he a really horrible boy?’ asked Lucy. Down by the river, the boy Jimmy Tiger was lashing his boat to a branch.
‘Of course he’s not horrible!’ said the girl. ‘He’s my best mate.’
‘Then why are we hiding?’
The girl rolled onto her back. ‘He tried to kiss me. So I’m not talking to him. Not until he apologises.’
Lucy stared. A smattering of spiky red petals had fallen onto their heads, and they looked like little flames against the girl’s fair plaits.
‘He could be your boyfriend,’ said Lucy.
‘I don’t want a boyfriend,’ said the girl. ‘I’m never getting married. Never ever. So there’s no point having boyfriends.’
‘You can have boyfriends without having to marry them,’ said Lucy.
‘That’s a bit wicked and not very romantic,’ said the girl. ‘If a boy kisses you, then you’re as good as engaged, aren’t you?’
Lucy laughed. ‘Now I know two things about you and I still don’t know your name or where you come from.’
‘What are the two things?’
‘That Jimmy Tiger tried to kiss you and that you’re never getting married,’ said Lucy, counting the facts on her fingers.
‘I’m April,’ said the girl. ‘I’m twelve years old and this is my valley.’
‘Now I know five things,’ said Lucy. ‘Actually, six including the fact you have a sister. Which is kind of weird, considering that I think I’m imagining you.’
But April wasn’t listening. She was lying on her tummy watching Jimmy Tiger with narrowed eyes. It was hard to make out how old the boy might be or even what he looked like, except for the fact that his hair was fiery copper-red. He lifted a brown sack out of the boat and began hiking up the path from the riverbank, whistling as he walked. April rolled onto her back and shut her eyes.
‘Do you ever think that maybe you never, ever want to grow up? That growing up is plain scary?’
‘Sometimes,’ said Lucy.
‘Lucy Someone Sometimes,’ said April. ‘I think you and I are going to be great friends.’
Lucy wanted to tell April that their friendship was impossible. How could she be friends with a girl who lived inside a painting? But when a breeze blew off the river and another smattering of petals showered down upon them Lucy couldn’t believe she was only imagining the girl and the springtime valley.
She shut her eyes. It had to be an amazing dream, one of those dreams where you thought you were awake.
‘Are you all right?’ asked April. Lucy could feel the other girl’s hand on her forehead, as if she were checking her for a fever.
‘I don’t know,’ said Lucy.
‘Do you live upriver? If that wasn’t your boat, how did you get here? Did you come by water or did you ride? Where did you leave your horse? I ride everywhere. I love to ride. Do you go to the school at Boggra? I used to go there but then Mum said I could have one year at home before they send me to boarding school in Sydney. It takes too long to get to Boggra. Dad has to row us kids across the river and then we have to walk to Dudleys’ farm and ride horses the rest of the way. It takes forever but it’s faster than going by road.’
April spoke so quickly, the words bubbling out of her, that Lucy could hardly take it all in. It was like something out of Alice in Wonderland. A mirror world where everything was familiar but nothing quite the same. She gazed around half-expecting to see a giant caterpillar sitting on a mushroom, or a Cheshire cat.
‘Can you pinch me?’ asked Lucy.
‘Pinch you?’
‘Yes, so I know that all this is real.’
April frowned and took Lucy’s hand, pinching a fold of skin on her wrist.
‘Oww!’ cried Lucy.
‘You’re a very strange girl,’ said April. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine. I was just thinking,’ said Lucy.
‘Thinking what?’
‘This is all kind of cool. I can’t believe I’m here.’
‘Cool? Yes it can be cool in spring,’ said April, looking a little puzzled.
For a moment they were both silent, studying each other. In some ways, looking at April was like looking at herself. They both had long blonde hair, blue eyes and a dimple in their left cheek.
As if she was thinking exactly the same thought at exactly the same moment, April said, ‘You could be my twin sister.’
Lucy laughed. ‘Not really! But I wish I could be like you. I always wished I could have a pony but I live in the city and I never get to go horse-riding.’
‘So you’re here visiting?’
‘Yes,’ said Lucy. ‘I’m sort of visiting.’
‘Well, I can take you riding, if you like.’
April checked to make sure Jimmy Tiger was out of sight and then she took Lucy’s hand and dragged her to her feet. ‘Follow me.’
April was barefoot like Lucy but she didn’t seem to notice the rough ground. Lucy wished her feet were a little tougher. They trekked a long way around the edge of the bush, watching the valley, until they reached a wooden hut. The door flew wide and two boys on horseback cantered through the yard, sending dust up in all directions. The riders were halfway down the road before Lucy had wiped the dirt from her face.
‘Who were they?’ asked Lucy.
‘My big brother, Tom, and that rotten Jimmy Tiger,’ said April, her eyes smouldering. ‘The kings of Broken River.’