Lucy could smell it even before she’d stepped through the wall – the hot, burning odour of bushfire. She could hear Jimmy and Lulu calling her from the kitchen, and she wanted to turn back. But a more powerful force was calling her to her own time. Something felt wrong. Something was burning. What if it was the house itself? What would Big do if she woke and found Lucy missing? She had broken her promise and now Big’s life might be at stake.
Lucy ran back through the wall. As soon as she passed over, she turned, hoping to see Jimmy or Lulu standing inside the painting, waving goodbye. But the wall was nothing more than plaster and paint.
The air in the outside–inside room was thick with the scent of bushfire. Lucy ran to the window and looked out over the valley. High above the hill, a full moon glowed blood-orange, and thick plumes of smoke rose black against the deep blue of the night sky.
‘Big, Big, wake up,’ cried Lucy, pounding down the hallway and bursting into Big’s bedroom.
Big sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her long silvery hair was in a loose plait and for a minute, in the half-light of the night bedroom, she looked exactly like April, exactly like the girl she’d once been.
‘What on earth are you shouting for, child?’ she asked, but even before she’d finished the sentence, her expression changed. ‘Smoke!’
‘There’s a bushfire, somewhere over the hill. The moon is red, as if it’s on fire too,’ said Lucy, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.
‘Quickly,’ said Big. ‘Get dressed. We have to get out of the valley.’ When she saw that Lucy was already dressed, she frowned but didn’t ask why.
Big leapt out of bed and hurried outside, still in her nightgown. She turned on a tap and began hosing down the roof of the house.
‘Lucy, hold this hose. If only I’d woken earlier. We don’t have much time. I’ll throw on some clothes and load the jeep. We’ll leave in two minutes. Keep hosing down the roof. It might save the house from embers.’
Lucy had barely sprayed half the roof when Big came running, fully dressed, with a pile of wet towels and blankets. She threw them into the back of the jeep.
‘C’mon Lucy. Leave that now. Jump in the car. We have to go.’
‘Now? But what about all your paintings and the photos and everything?’
‘You are more important than any painting, than any photo, than anything in this whole house, Lucy,’ said Big. ‘Jump in the car this instant and don’t argue. You know this isn’t the first fire to come into the valley and it won’t be the last.’
‘We should stay and protect the house, like Tom and I did.’
‘Lucy, Tom was a very fit, strong teenager. I am an old lady and you are a little girl and we are doing the only thing possible. Leaving.’
She grabbed Lucy by the wrist and hurried her over to the jeep.
As they drove down the hill to the creek, the smoke grew thicker, as if it was lying in the dale, waiting to smother them. Lucy began to cough.
‘Grab one of the wet towels, Lucy, and put it over your head,’ said Big.
The jeep roared up the road, but as they crested the first rise they saw the flames. The top of the hill was on fire. They were driving straight into the inferno.
Lucy heard Big gasp. She slammed the brakes on and reversed down the hill to a small bend in the road that had been gouged out as a turning circle.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Lucy.
‘We’re going to leave the only way we can. We’ll take the boat down the river, like we did in ’39.’
They stopped at the track that led to the boat ramp. The air felt clearer near the water’s edge. Lucy bounded down the steps to the boat ramp carrying the wet towels and blankets and flung them into the boat. Then she heard Big cry out. She turned and saw her aunt lose her footing and fall on the path to the boat ramp.
‘Big!’ cried Lucy.
Big lay on her side, scowling. ‘My ankle. I’ve twisted my ankle.’
‘You don’t think anything’s broken?’ asked Lucy. She knew that some old people broke bones even in small falls.
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Here, put your arm around my shoulders,’ said Lucy, sounding much braver and more confident than she really felt.
Lucy helped Big into the bow of the boat and draped a damp blanket around her body. Then she sat down on the slat seat in the middle and took hold of the oars. When they were away from the shore and in deeper water, she pulled the oars in neatly and spun about to sit in the stern, next to the little outboard motor. Big had shown her how to start the motor on the way back from their painting expedition.
She made sure the shift lever was straight up in the neutral position. Then she pulled the choke out a little bit.
‘I can’t remember how to do this,’ said Lucy.
‘Yes you can, Lucy. Arrow, rope,’ said Big.
Lucy nodded and turned the handgrip until the arrow aligned with the start position and then she pulled the starter rope slowly. Nothing happened. The second time, she pulled it more forcefully. The engine sputtered and coughed and kicked into action.
Big sat slumped in the front of the boat, her face turned towards Avendale. Lucy guided the small boat down the centre of the black river. When she glanced over her shoulder, she could see red embers landing in the river behind them and disappearing, like fiery butterflies. She pulled one of the damp towels over her head and kept her gaze fixed straight ahead.
Lucy thought that sunrise wasn’t far away, but no birds sang. Then she realised it wasn’t dawn light at all but the glow from the fires on the eastern side of the river. They turned a wide bend to find the air full of the roar of the fire. A wind swept down the river, ruffling the surface of the water, making embers and ash rain down around them. More than anything, Lucy wanted the night to be over, to be somewhere safe watching the day grow bright. Fire leapt over the hill. Flames raced over the escarpment and down towards the river, closer and closer to the water’s edge.
Embers sizzled in the bottom of the boat and Lucy felt her heart pounding. How much further could it be? They turned another bend in the river and finally, the bush gave way to open fields. The wind began to drop. Lucy felt a sob of relief well up in her chest at the sight of houses and roads and fences. By the time she guided the boat under the town bridge and to the first jetty she could see, it felt as though they had travelled from the underworld back into a quiet, peaceful reality.
Lucy managed to bring the boat alongside the steps of the jetty.
‘Take the rope and tie her fast,’ said Big. It was the first time she’d spoken since Lucy had started the outboard motor.
Slowly, painfully, Big climbed up the ladder and onto the dock.
‘Are you all right, Big?’ asked Lucy. ‘Are you going to be okay to walk into town? You could sit here and I’ll run and find someone to help us.’
Big cupped Lucy’s chin in her hand and stared into her eyes.
‘I’m sorry, Lucy,’ she said. ‘I’ve let you down. I was meant to be taking care of you. And you’ve saved me. Again.’ And then she smiled.
Lucy put her arms around her great-aunt, and for the very first time, she hugged her. ‘I love you, Aunty Big,’ said Lucy. ‘I loved you when you were a kid and I love you now too.’
Big held her tight, stroking her hair, and somehow Lucy knew they both felt stronger. ‘I’m fine to walk into town,’ said Big. ‘If you’re by my side, I think I could walk all the way to Sydney. You give me strength, Lucy McKenzie. You always have; you always will.’
Together they climbed the stairs that led up from the river and walked slowly into town.