Robyn described, for the ones who hadn’t been there, the layout of her house, and where it was in relation to Wirrawee. We figured that it should be safe to go in on Coachman’s Lane, which was just a dirt track at the back of a few ten acre blocks, including Robyn’s. From the hill behind Robyn’s we could get a glimpse of the town, which might tell us something.
It was time to leave. Corrie was waiting for me at the front door. I’d been using the bathroom. I’d forgotten that the Mackenzies weren’t on town water, and a pressure pump needs electricity to operate. So I’d had to go out to the bathtub in the vegetable garden, fill a bucket with water, and come back in to fill the cistern and flush the toilet. Corrie was getting impatient but I held her up a few moments longer. I was coming down the passageway, past their telephone, when I noticed a message on their fax. ‘Corrie,’ I called out, ‘do you want to see this?’ I held it out, adding as she came towards me, ‘It’s probably an old one but you never know’.
She took it and read it. As she went from line to line I saw her mouth slowly open. Her face seemed to become longer and thinner, with shock. She stared at me with big eyes, then pushed the message into my hands and stood there, shaking, as I read.
In a rough scrawl I saw these words, written by Mr Mackenzie:
Corrie, I’m in the Show Secretary’s Office. Something’s going on. People say it’s just Army manoeuvres but I’m sending this anyway, then heading home to tear it up so no one’ll know what an idiot I’ve been. But Corrie, if you do get this, go bush. Take great care. Don’t come out till you know it’s safe. Much love darling. Dad.
The last twenty or so words were heavily underlined, everything from ‘go bush’ onwards.
We looked at each other for a moment, then had a big hug. We both cried a bit, then ran outside to show the others.
I think I must have run out of tears after that day, because I haven’t cried again since.
When we left the Mackenzies’ we moved cautiously. For the first time we acted like people in a war, like soldiers, like guerillas. Corrie said to us, ‘I’ve always laughed at Dad for being so cautious. The way he carries his spirit level everywhere. But his big motto is “Time spent in reconnaissance is seldom wasted”. Maybe we’d better go with that for a while.’
We had another bike, Corrie’s, so we worked out a way of travelling that we thought was a compromise between speed and safety. We fixed a landmark – the first one was the old Church of Christ – and the first pair, Robyn and Lee, were to ride to it and stop. If it was safe they’d go back and drop a tea towel on the road, two hundred metres before the church. The next pair would set out five minutes after Robyn and Lee and the last three five minutes later. We agreed on total silence, and we left Kevin’s old corgi, Flip, chained up at the Mackenzies’. Our fear was making us think.
For all that, the trip to Robyn’s was uneventful. Slow, but uneventful. We found her house in the same condition as the others, empty, smelling bad, cobwebs already. It made me wonder how quickly houses would fall apart if people weren’t there to look after them. They’d always seemed so solid, so permanent. That poem Mum was always quoting, ‘Look on my works ye mighty and despair’. That was all I could remember, but it was the first time I started to understand the truth of it.
It was 1.30 in the morning. We went up to the hill behind Robyn’s house and looked at Wirrawee. Suddenly I was very tired. The town was in darkness, no street lights even. There must have been some power though, because there were quite strong lights at the Showground – the floodlights they used for the trotting track – and a couple of buildings in the centre of town were lit. As we sat there we talked softly about our next move. There was no question that we had to try to reach Fi’s house, and Lee’s. Not because we expected to find anyone, but because five of us had seen our homes, had seen the emptiness, had been given a chance to understand, and it was only fair that the last two should get the same right.
A truck drove slowly out of the Showground and to one of the lit buildings, in Barker Street I think. We stopped talking and watched. It was the first sign of human life, other than our own, that we’d seen since the planes.
Then Homer made an unpopular suggestion. ‘I think we should split up.’
There was a whispered howl of protest, if you can have that. It was different to Kevin and Corrie offering to go on their own before. They just hadn’t wanted to drag us away from Homer’s. But now Homer wouldn’t give in.
‘We need to be out of town before dawn. A long way out of town. And we’re running short of time. It’s not going to be quick and easy, travelling around these streets. We’re getting tired, and that alone will slow us down, not to mention the care that we’ll have to take. Also, two people can move more quietly than seven. And finally, to tell you the truth, if there are soldiers here and anyone’s caught ... well, again, two’s better than seven. I hate to mention the fact, but five people free and two people locked up is a better equation than no people free and seven locked up. You all know what a whiz I am at Maths.’
He’d talked us into silence. We knew he was right, except for the Maths part maybe.
‘So what are you suggesting?’ Kevin asked.
‘I’ll go with Fi. I’ve always wanted to see inside one of those rich houses on the hill. This is my big chance.’ Fi aimed a tired kick at him which he allowed to hit his shin. ‘Maybe if Robyn and Lee go to Lee’s, what do you think? And you other three take a closer look at the Showground. All those lights ... maybe that’s their base. Or it could be where they’re keeping people even.’
We digested all this, then Robyn said, ‘Yes, it’s the best way. How about anyone not wearing dark clothes come back to the house and help yourselves to some? And we meet back here on the hill at, say, three o’clock?’
‘What if someone’s missing?’ Fi asked quietly. It was a terrible thought. After a silence Fi answered her own question. ‘How about we wait till 3.30 if anyone’s not back. Then move out fast, but come back tomorrow night – I mean tonight. And if you’re the ones missing and you get back late, lie low for the day.’
‘Yes,’ said Homer. ‘That’s all we can do.’
Kevin and Corrie and I didn’t need any darker clothing, so we were ready to go. We stood and hugged everyone and wished them luck. A minute later, when I looked back, I could no longer see them. We picked our way down the hill towards Warrigle Street, climbed through the Mathers’ front fence and crept along the side of the road, keeping very close to the treeline. Kevin was leading. I just hoped he didn’t come across any creepie-crawlies. It wouldn’t be a good time for him to start yelling and screaming.
Although the Showground was on the edge of town, it was the opposite side to the edge we were on, so we had quite a walk ahead. But we could move fairly quickly, because we were well away from the main streets. Not that Wirrawee’s got many main streets. I was glad that we were moving: it was the only thing keeping me sane. It was so hard concentrating on walking and watching and keeping quiet at the same time. Sometimes I forgot and made a noise, then the other two would turn and look angrily at me. I’d shrug, spread my arms, roll my eyes. I still couldn’t comprehend that this might be a matter of life and death, that this was the most serious thing I’d ever been involved in. Of course I knew it; I just couldn’t keep remembering it every single second. My mind wasn’t that well disciplined. And besides, Kevin and Corrie weren’t as quiet as they thought they were.
It was hard being so dark, too. Hard not to trip over stones, or tread on noisy sticks or, on one occasion, bump into a garbage can.
We got into Racecourse Road, and felt a little safer, as there are so few houses along there. Passing Mrs Alexander’s I stopped for a moment to sniff at the big old roses that grew along her front fence. I loved her garden. She had a party there every year, a Christmas party. It had only been a few weeks since I’d been standing under one of her apple trees, holding a plate of biscuits and telling Steve I didn’t want to go with him any more. Now it felt like it’d happened five years ago. It had been a hard thing to do, and Steve being so nice about it made me feel worse. Maybe that’s why he was so nice about it. Or was I just being cynical?