Huon Valley, 7 February 1967
Annie
Annie had seen fire before. Every summer, the smell of burning eucalypts filled the air. Flames raced through the grass in the paddocks and plumes of smoke from bushfires rose above the hills over the river behind Port Huon. Most fires were easily contained. Sometimes one would threaten property, and a call would go out for volunteers to man hoses, buckets and bags. But in the years she’d lived here, nearly a decade now, she’d never experienced anything like this. The north-westerlies were blasting the orchard with dust and leaves, pushing the bitter smoke into every corner of the house. She’d been forced to close the windows and stuff wet towels under the doors. The air inside was stifling, almost suffocating, but it was better than more smoke coming into the house.
Annie prayed the precautions her husband, Dave, had put in place would be enough to keep them safe. Mark, a friend from Dave’s school days who was staying in the old house with his family, had helped as well. They’d taken the ute out hours ago to open the gates so the cattle could escape if the paddock caught fire and to check the upper block where the apple trees grew close to the bush. One ember and the dry open forest with its ground layer of grasses and shrubs would go up like a tinderbox. Her eyes flicked yet again to the kitchen clock. They should be back by now.
Her youngest sons started whinging again, Scott toddling around wearing only his nappy and Greg, who was almost toilet-trained, in his bathers. Mark’s son Charlie, nearly the same age as Greg, had stopped playing with a Matchbox car, a hand-me-down from one of her many boys, to stare forlornly at nothing. His quietness worried her, but she wasn’t surprised given what he’d gone through. Only little Angela was unfussed by the crushing heat. She lay calmly in her bassinet, staring at the ceiling with serene newborn eyes. Annie could hardly pull herself away from her tiny, perfect face. What a blessing after five boys.
This morning she’d waved goodbye to the school bus with her three eldest on board, relieved the summer holidays were finally over. Now she was worried. Surely the school would be in touch if there were any problems in Cygnet?
Greg stomped up, red-faced and cranky. ‘Too hot,’ he said, pointing to his bathers. ‘Swimming?’
The idea had crossed Annie’s mind but she’d dismissed it. The river wasn’t far, but in this heat, with these winds, still an impossible journey. Their best bet was to stay in the house where there were other ways of keeping the boys cool.
‘Yes, a swim,’ she said. ‘In the bath.’ Dave had asked her to fill the tub before he left. If the fires came it would be faster to scoop water out of the tub than fill buckets from a tap. She didn’t want to think about that, or pay any attention to the churning in her stomach. The children were her focus. Annie stripped off Scott’s nappy, helped Greg out of his bathers and plonked her boys in the bath.
‘Charlie,’ she called out. ‘There’s room for you too.’
His face peeked around the doorway. Mark’s son looked so much like his father. The boy slipped off his shorts and waited for Annie to lift him into the bath. Her boys had accepted Charlie as one of their own. They were used to being surrounded by brothers, what was one more? But Charlie came from a different world and she sensed his hesitation. She splashed Charlie gently. ‘See, isn’t this better? Much cooler.’ He nodded. Not much of a talker, this one, but it was a relief to have a quieter boy around.
Annie filled the bathroom basin with water, lifted Angela from the bassinet and unwrapped her nappy. While the boys played in the bath, Annie trickled cool water over her.
‘What a beautiful girl.’ Annie bent down to kiss the small, soft forehead. The sweet smell of her baby filled her nostrils, dispelling the rough, smoke-tinged air just for a moment. Annie stroked the fine down on her daughter’s head. ‘The things we’ll do together. The times we’ll have.’
The tin roof rattled loudly in a fierce gust of wind. Thank God Dave had cleaned the gutters two days ago when the fire danger had risen to extreme. Last winter had been unseasonably wet, followed by an early spring and then the driest summer for more than seventy years. All the growth from the rains was now tinder dry, ready to burst into flames at the slightest provocation.
Her husband knew his way around fire, having grown up here in the valley. He respected and feared it. Only this morning Dave had sworn under his breath, so the children wouldn’t hear, about the idiots still burning off and the firebugs up Mount Wellington who’d been caught but let off with only a warning and whose fires still burnt. The practice of letting fires in the bush just burn themselves out was a particular bugbear. ‘Burn themselves out?’ he’d muttered. ‘As if that’s going to happen in these conditions.’
Before they’d left, he and Mark had hosed down the house and set sprinklers on the browned-off grass around the house. He’d blocked the downpipes and flooded the roof gutters with water. They’d also filled the orchard sprayer with water and left it close to the house and filled as many buckets as they could find. Dave had a couple of knapsack pumps in the ute to put out fires on their property and in case he was called to fight other fires in the area. He was a good man; thoughtful, generous and capable. A pang of fear stabbed her heart at the thought of him out there battling the heat and flames. She couldn’t – no, she wouldn’t – lose him now, not after everything they’d been through together.
They’d first met on a day very different to this one. On the fifteenth of September 1957 the heavens had opened and dumped a record amount of rain on Hobart. Annie was in her last year at an all-girls private school. After staying late to swot for her final exams, she’d made a run for the bus, but it went sailing past. She was left bedraggled and soaked to the skin. A ute pulled up and a young man at the wheel asked if she wanted a lift. Even though his appearance was one of clean-scrubbed honesty and she’d wanted desperately to say yes, she’d had to refuse. What would her parents say? What would her friends think? The school would definitely disapprove. He drove away, and her heart sank. She was disappointed he’d given up so easily, but to her joy he hadn’t gone far. She’d watched as he parked just outside the bus zone and came running back with an umbrella, offering to stay with her until the next bus arrived. He introduced himself as Dave Pearson and told her he was from the Huon Valley. Dave had taken a drive around the town while waiting to pick up his father. She’d laughed – in such pouring rain! He’d laughed too and admitted to thinking it was a stupid thing to do – until he’d seen Annie, clearly in need of rescuing. He’d seemed genuinely open and friendly, and his umbrella was a godsend. It had helped that he was tall and good looking, but she’d learnt not to trust those attributes. Some of the boys she met at school dances were handsome, but vain with it. They were from rich families, like hers, and tended to be condescending and often mean. She saw none of those traits in Dave. Their conversation flowed with warmth and laughter as the rain pelted down around them.
They were together for just a few minutes on that September day but within that time a connection formed which had surprised them both. That was ten years ago. Before they were married there’d been a time she was terrified he would abandon her, but he’d remained, steadfast and true. It was her parents who’d disappeared from her life.
The wind was fiercer now, the roar of it like a train rushing past. The darkness was almost complete, the smoke blocking out the sun. Annie flicked the light switch but nothing happened. Singing gently to Angela, she picked her up from the basin, holding her baby’s wet skin close to her own. ‘Sweet little baby, don’t you cry,’ she crooned. ‘I’ll keep you safe from the fire in the sky.’ Annie walked slowly into the lounge room, suppressing the growing anxiety gnawing at her stomach, and tried the light switch there. Nothing. In the kitchen she picked up the phone. No dial tone. She took a steadying breath. She had to stay calm, for the children.
‘Mummy,’ Greg called out to her from the bathroom. ‘Mummy?’ There was a tremor in his voice. The tears would start soon.