Ghost Boy Read online

  Tad remembered Ralph’s awkward attempt to buy his clothes, to do the right thing, his gentleness with the old man. Maybe Ralph had even helped his father. Could he trust the fellow?

  ‘What do you think I should do with it?’ And then Tad remembered the small rowboat, the beach across the sea with its fresh water supply. He could hide the treasure there! He felt excitement and relief. He could row across and be back before dawn. No-one would be any the wiser. And the treasure would be safe until he and Joseph were free to go over and use it to make themselves a home!

  7

  ‘You’ve thought of something?’ Ralph watched him closely as they walked out on deck once more.

  Tad took in great gulps of air and tried to breathe away the taint of sweat, excreta and death. He decided to test his idea on Ralph. ‘I’ll take it over there.’ He jerked his head towards the dark headland across the shining black water.

  ‘That’s quite far,’ Ralph said doubtfully.

  ‘I’ll take the boat. I can hide the stuff over there and be back by dawn. No-one’ll even know I’ve gone.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Ralph offered.

  Tad looked at him, wondering if he could be trusted.

  ‘I can help you row.’

  ‘No,’ Tad decided. ‘It’s only a small boat and I’ll have to take it back to the jetty before anyone misses it. No, you stay here on the Faraway.’ He hesitated. ‘Maybe we can meet up again when you get off here?’

  It would give him time to get to know Ralph better, see if he was a regular fellow, he thought. Then, when they were free to leave the Quarantine Station, if he and Ralph were still friends, he’d ask Ralph to come with them, to help make a home in the bush. It would be good to have some company.

  He smiled at Ralph. ‘Come over and find me as soon as you get off here,’ he urged.

  ‘How do I know you’ll wait for me?’ Ralph, too, was suspicious.

  Tad considered for a moment, put his boots down, then slowly unbuckled his belt. ‘You can bring me this.’ He watched Ralph’s mouth curve up in a smile as he undid the piece of rope that held up his own trousers.

  Tad looked down at his naked feet, the webbed toes that had inspired the nickname ‘Tadpole’ amongst his school friends. Thaddeus. Tad. Tadpole. He sighed and with one bare foot slid the wet boots across to Ralph. ‘You can have these too, if they fit,’ he offered.

  ‘Thanks!’ Ralph grabbed them eagerly. ‘You can have them all back soon as I get off this old tub and find you,’ he promised.

  Tad knew then that he could trust Ralph. ‘I hope I’ll see you soon,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll hide the box safe where no-one can find it. It’ll be there, waiting for us when we leave this place. You’ll see, Ralph. We’ll set ourselves up. We’ll live like gentlemen.’

  ‘Swear?’ Ralph looked doubtful.

  ‘Swear.’ Tad spat on his right hand and held it up. Ralph copied him and their hands joined together in the air. They grinned at each other, suddenly full of hope.

  Once out and moving across the harbour, Tad didn’t feel quite so confident. The headland was much further than it looked. Already his arms were aching with the unaccustomed strain of rowing, yet the boat seemed almost stationary in the water. And his father and Mary-Anne were dead, dead, dead.

  To take his mind off his dark thoughts Tad looked up at the stars. He remembered nights out on deck, listening to his father describing the constellations, following his pointing finger as he traced their formations in the sky.

  Unfamiliar stars. Southern hemisphere stars. Still, he recognised the Milky Way all right, the blaze of stars that cut across the darkness like a frayed silver ribbon. The ‘Stairway to Heaven’ his father had called it, telling Tad how the ancient Greeks believed it was a fiery trail left by Phaethon when he drove his father Helius’ chariot out of control across the sky. And there was the long ‘S’ of Scorpio, the scorpion with a sting in its tail. No use looking for the short, intersecting lines of stars that made up the hunter Orion’s belt and dagger – or his dog, the bright star Sirius. The gods had planned that hunter and scorpion would never be in the sky at the same time. They would have to chase each other until the end of time.

  Tad swivelled around in search of the Southern Cross, calculating the direction in which he was rowing. He was heading almost due west.

  He looked over his shoulder to check. A pale glimmer of sand caught his eye. There were no fires tonight. The beach was deserted. Relieved, he steered the boat towards shore and heard the soft crunch as it hit the sand. With aching muscles he heaved the boat out of the water so it could not float away.

  The beach was quite small, the back of it thickly wooded, dark and forbidding. Tad traced the glistening snail’s trail of the stream up the beach to its source. He cupped his hands for a drink, enjoying the cold sweet water. His thirst quenched, he picked up the small, heavy box and set about finding a hiding place for it.

  There were rocky ledges at either side of the beach. Tad decided to go to the southern end – the rocks seemed more jumbled, the chances of finding a good hiding place better there. Clutching the box awkwardly to his chest, he started to scramble and slither over and around the slippery rocks. Then he saw it. A dark opening set in the side of a cliff. It was a cave, he felt sure of it, but the rock ledge had ended. His path across was barred by water.

  There was only one option, Tad realised. He couldn’t get to the cave by land. Even if he went around the back of the beach and along the headland, the side of the cliff was too steep for him to clamber down again. He had no choice but to swim across, letting the sea carry him to the cave. He listened intently, hearing the cries of night birds, the soft slurping of the sucking waves. So that he would have something dry and warm to put on after his swim, he stripped off his jersey and dropped it on a rock. He clutched the box firmly and kicked off into icy water.

  He could hardly breathe. As the sea closed around him he could feel the hair standing upright on his head while the cold ate into his bones. The sea was no longer calm, the sound of the waves much louder as the current pulled him insistently towards the gaping black hole that grew bigger and bigger as he was sucked closer.

  He was flung onto a rock ledge in a shower of spray. He landed with a gasp and lay for a moment, numb with cold, unable to move, feeling the box hard and reassuring against his side. At last he sat up and took stock of his surroundings. He had succeeded!

  The rock ledge gave way to a soft, sandy floor that stretched several yards before being swallowed into inky darkness. The sides of the cave were jagged and pitted with ledges and holes making a hundred hiding places for Tad’s treasure.

  Carefully he clambered up onto a large boulder and then inched across a thin rock ledge, which jutted out several feet above the sandy bottom of the cave. When he judged he had gone far enough, he leant side-on against the rough surface and balanced himself as he hefted the box into a gaping hole above his head. He heard the oilskin slurp against rock and then the box was gone, swallowed into the shadows. Tad pulled off his wet shirt and carefully piled the coins into it. The bundle disappeared into the hole along with the box.

  Now for the swim back! Tad shivered as he anticipated the icy water. Teeth chattering, he waded out, struggling against the waves and the current that dragged him backwards.

  As the water rose around his chest he kicked out, swimming strongly. He felt the swell pick him up, tried to fight the wave that surged forward and smashed him down against the rocks. Gasping, he came up for air, struggled to find his footing then was sucked down and dashed against the rocks once more.

  Tad surfaced, eyes streaming, his tortured lungs gasping for oxygen. He was just in time to see the cream curl of the wave as it rushed down on him. And then he went under for the last time, his body pounded against rocks on the sea floor. He tried desperately to kick upwards, but his limbs were frozen, too numb to move. He cried out and felt the sea fill his nose and lungs. His fingers slid down into his pocket, see
king comfort from the gold locket that had belonged to his mother. But his pocket was empty. Tad remembered the gold chain glinting between Joseph’s chubby fingers and clawed upwards. But he could not breathe and his struggles grew weaker until finally his body went limp. Tad’s last thought was for the mother he would never see again.

  8

  ‘So you’ve come at last! I always knew you would, one day.’

  Froggy stirred, feeling the rough rock warm under his cheek, feeling his throat and lungs raw from the salt water. He felt so tired! Everything ached. His eyes fluttered, then closed once more.

  ‘I say, wake up!’ He felt a touch, light as a feather against his face. Alarmed, he opened his eyes and jerked up, fists clenched to protect himself.

  He was staring at himself.

  Froggy blinked and stared again. He looked just the same … but he was wearing different clothes. Had he died, or what?

  Froggy looked down at his soaked school uniform, at the flat platform of rock he was sitting on. He was almost surrounded by sea. With a hiss of alarm, he pulled his feet in close and hugged his knees.

  ‘Don’t be afraid. You’re quite safe here.’

  Froggy stared at the boy. It was like looking in the mirror! Same dark hair and bulging eyes. The same big mouth and … Froggy’s gaze travelled downwards … the same webbed feet! Froggy looked up again. There was another difference. He knew there was. What was it?

  And then it came to him. The boy had a pommy accent. He talked real lah-di-dah. Froggy grinned. Like someone with a mouthful of marbles, his father always called it.

  The boy didn’t grin back. He looked impatient, as though Froggy was wasting time.

  ‘Who are you?’ Froggy studied the boy more closely. He was smaller than Froggy, maybe ten or eleven. He wore no shirt and his trousers were baggy, held up with a knotted, salt-stained piece of rope.

  ‘I’m Tad. Thaddeus. Don’t you remember me?’

  Froggy shook his head. The name seemed vaguely familiar. Maybe he was someone new from school. No, there was still something wrong. ‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ he said politely and held out his hand in honour of the posh voice. ‘My name’s Froggy, only I’m really Frederick Davidson.’

  The look of horror on the boy’s face surprised Froggy.

  Tad’s hand shook as he reached out. ‘Don’t you remember me, Joseph?’ he asked gently. ‘I’m your big brother Tad.’ He seemed to be trying to convince himself as he cautiously traced Froggy’s features with a light finger.

  Froggy moved quickly out of reach. This was getting weird. He bent and unlaced his wet shoes, then took off his socks and squeezed them out. The boy stared at his feet.

  ‘You are Joseph!’ he declared. ‘You must be!’

  ‘No,’ Froggy said patiently. ‘I told you, I’m Froggy Davidson.’

  ‘Davidson?’ The boy sprang to his feet and paced the flat slab of sandstone.

  Froggy watched him nervously, hoping he wouldn’t fall in. The boy looked really distressed. Froggy wondered who he was. Where had he come from? And with a shiver of alarm … where were Jake and his mates? His glance travelled upwards to the rocky overhang. But he could see nothing. It was like a roof over his head. Nor could he hear anything other than his own breathing and the sudden harsh cry of a seagull.

  ‘Don’t worry, they’ve gone.’ The boy sniggered suddenly. ‘They got such a fright when you fell in. They really thought you’d drowned. Those fellows weren’t sounding half so pleased with themselves when they ran away.’

  Ran away! Froggy savoured the thought of Jake and his mates going through torture now, wondering whether or not to report Froggy’s drowning and that they had been responsible.

  ‘Did you save me?’ He turned abruptly to the boy.

  ‘Of course I did! But it hasn’t worked!’ Tad glared at Froggy as though it was all his fault. Then he started muttering again. ‘You must be my little brother. Who else could you be? Ah, but you’ve grown up a fine fellow, Joseph. I’m so glad to see you again!’

  Froggy felt confused. He’d seen the drunks and the crazies in the Corso sometimes, muttering to themselves as they searched for scraps in the garbage bins. This boy looked too young for that, but he seemed just as crazy.

  ‘I haven’t got a brother,’ he said patiently. ‘I was my parents’ first and only child. My mother wanted to have more children but she couldn’t.’

  ‘You’re lying!’

  Froggy shrugged. ‘No, I’m not.’ It seemed a little inadequate. ‘I’m sorry,’ he added. Tad looked as though he was about to cry.

  ‘What’s the date?’ Tad asked suddenly, looking at Froggy’s wet school uniform with interest.

  ‘February 18th.’

  ‘Yes, but what year?’

  ‘1995.’

  ‘What? Over a hundred years? It can’t be!’ He looked at Froggy in confusion. ‘But there’s no-one else!’ he muttered. ‘I’ll just have to trust you.’

  ‘Trust me with what?’

  ‘I have to find out what happened to Joseph. Then maybe I’ll be able to get away from here. I’m awfully tired of staying here, guarding the …’ He broke off suddenly, eyeing Froggy warily. ‘I have to find out about Joseph.’

  ‘But I don’t know any Joseph,’ Froggy wondered if even his drowning dreams weren’t better than this. But maybe he had drowned. Maybe he was dead. He pinched himself hard. The pain brought tears to his eyes.

  Tad watched him and shook his head. It was clear he thought Froggy was crazy. Then he shrugged, apparently making up his mind, for he came over and sat down next to Froggy, taking care to keep away from the edge of the rock.

  ‘I suppose you’re called Froggy because of your feet.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Froggy admitted. He felt comforted by the fact that this strange boy must also know what it was like to be teased.

  ‘I’m called Tad because my name’s Thaddeus. Where I went to school, they called me Tadpole.’ They exchanged grins.

  ‘And are you afraid of the sea as well?’ Froggy asked.

  ‘No!’ Tad said flatly. ‘I’m a good swimmer. I was never afraid of the water.’

  ‘I never used to be either,’ Froggy admitted. ‘Not until we came to live here, anyway.’

  Tad’s eyes widened. He nodded slightly as though Froggy had passed some sort of test. But he wouldn’t look at him.

  He’s hiding something, Froggy thought. ‘So, who are you?’ he asked again, wondering if he could trust Tad to tell him the truth.

  ‘Thaddeus Dearborne. I already told you that.’ Tad sounded impatient. ‘Don’t let’s waste time on names though. You’re more important. You see, your name’s not Davidson, I’m sure of it. You’re a Dearborne. You have to be. You’re probably my … my great-great-great nephew or something like that.’

  ‘Great-great …’ Froggy spluttered then started to laugh. ‘You have to be joking! You’re younger than I am!’

  ‘I’m twelve years old!’ Tad said indignantly.

  ‘So’m I, but you’re smaller than me.’

  ‘I guess people may be bigger this century, that’s all.’ Tad screwed up his face in concentration and Froggy saw his lips and fingers moving as he did a painful calculation. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I’m really 126 years old.’

  Froggy tried to laugh, but couldn’t. It sounded as if Tad really thought he was speaking the truth. But that meant … He stared at Tad incredulously.

  The boy looked as real as Froggy himself. And just as solid. He stretched out a hand, wondering if his fingers would pass right through. His fingers jabbed into Tad’s cheek, and the boy winced. ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that,’ he said crossly. ‘I’m real to you, even if no-one else can see me. And I’ve been waiting for you for a jolly long time! Only …’ and his voice sounded lost and childish suddenly, ‘only I thought when you came, you’d be Joseph so that I could explain to you what happened to me. I thought I’d be able to leave this place, go back to Papa and Mary-Anne and … and my mother. I re
ally don’t want to stay here, you know!’ And he glared at Froggy as if it was all his fault.

  ‘Neither do I!’ said Froggy fiercely. ‘I hate this place!’

  They stared at each other.

  ‘Perhaps that’s because of me,’ said the ghost boy.

  ‘Why?’ demanded Froggy.

  But Tad wouldn’t answer him. He was concentrating on his own problems. ‘What do I have to do? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!’ he wailed, looking up at the sky as if maybe the answer would come from there.

  Froggy shook his head. This was all too way out to be true, but his surroundings seemed real enough. Except … Froggy blinked. The sea was blood red. He lifted his face to the sky. It too seemed stained crimson. Then Froggy realised that the rocks towering above him blocked his vision to the west and that the sun must be setting. He could barely make out a glimmer of sand in the distance; the twinkling points of light that marked the buildings of the old Quarantine Station. The Quarantine Station? Froggy frowned as a faint memory tugged at him. He shivered, conscious of how wet and cold he was. They were sitting in deep shadow, the rocks behind them barring the dying warmth of the sun’s rays. Soon it would be dark, and he still had to find his way home through the bush.

  ‘I have to go,’ he said abruptly. He stood up and looked down on the sleek dark hair of the ghost boy. ‘Nice meeting you, anyway!’ He felt like an idiot talking to a ghost, yet didn’t like to walk away without saying anything at all. After all, Tad had saved his life, hadn’t he? At the thought of the sea, Froggy started to run.

  ‘Froggy! Wait!’ The urgency in Tad’s voice stopped Froggy’s flight up the path. ‘You can’t just leave me here! You have to come back!’ There was real fear now in the ghost boy’s voice.

  ‘I’ll come back tomorrow or the day after,’ Froggy shouted. It seemed a safe enough promise. If this was really a dream, he need never come back here again.