‘You know Alice Blue, the woman I told you about in my letter, the daughter of a king?’
Alice nodded.
‘Her mother died when she was young, too.’ Candy took her hand. ‘She was heartbroken and sent away to live with her aunty in her book-filled palace. Later, when she was all grown up, Alice Blue said it was the stories her aunt told her and those she read in her books that saved her.’
Alice imagined Alice Blue, a maiden in her signature-coloured gown, reading in pale light falling from a window onto the pages of her book.
‘What a lucky girl you are to have found this place, and with it your story, Alice. What a lucky girl you are to get the chance to learn and know where you come from and who you belong to.’ Candy turned her face away. After a moment, she wiped her cheeks. The air conditioners clicked and hummed in the background. Alice studied the old book, daydreaming of women who might have bent over it through time, maybe holding a bunch of native flowers in their fist as they added a new entry in their secret language.
Alice’s legs started to twitch from idleness. Candy turned back to her and asked a question that flooded Alice’s body with longing.
‘Want me to show you the way to the river?’
10. Thorn box
Meaning: Girlhood
Bursaria spinosa | Eastern Australia
Small tree or shrub with furrowed dark grey bark. Smooth branches are armed with thorns. Leaves yield pine-like fragrance when bruised. Sweetly scented white flowers bloom in summer. Provides nectar to butterflies and safety to small birds. Intricate architecture of thorns is much sought after by spiders for constructing webs.
Alice shielded her eyes from the sun. Although autumn had cooled the nights, the days were still broiling. Candy lifted the vine, locked the workshop door behind them, and let the vine fall back over the doorway. On the back verandah the Flowers had finished morning tea and were ferrying their cups and plates from the tables into the kitchen. Candy called out to Myf, with the bluebird tattoo at her throat, to ask for the time. After Myf replied, Candy turned to Alice, her face filled with dismay. Alice’s heart sank.
‘Oh sweetpea, I’m sorry. It’s later than I’d realised. I have to get lunch ready I’m afraid, or else we’ll have neglected Flowers, in every sense. I’ll have to take you to the river another time.’
Alice searched her face.
‘No, don’t give me that look. Please. I just can’t let you go by yourself.’
Alice kept her eyes on Candy’s face.
‘Dammit,’ Candy muttered under her breath. ‘Listen, only as long as you promise to be more careful than you’ve ever been. In. Your. Life.’ Candy frowned. ‘And as long as you promise to come back as soon as you’ve had a quick look at the river. Straight back. I mean it.’
Alice nodded vigorously.
‘And one last thing: you cannot tell June or Twig I let you go off by yourself the very first time they left me to look after you.’
Alice raised her eyebrows.
‘Oh. Right. That won’t be a problem.’ Candy folded her arms. ‘Okay, Alice Blue,’ she surrendered, smiling despite herself. ‘You can go to the river by yourself and explore. But don’t let me down, okay? Second chances aren’t easy to come by around here.’
Alice ran to Candy and threw her arms around her waist. I trust you.
For the next ten minutes Candy repeated the directions to the river: go to the path at the end of the flower fields. Follow it through the bush to the river. Do not leave the path. Do not go into the river. Do not try to cross the river. Do nothing at all other than follow the path to the river.
After Alice had nodded along to every word three times, Candy was satisfied.
‘Okay, then,’ she said. ‘I’m going to prep lunch. See you soon, sweetpea.’
Alice hesitated, not quite believing that she was allowed to leave. At the back steps Candy turned. Go, she mouthed with a grin, shooing Alice away with her hands.
She took off around the flower field with Candy’s directions ringing in her ears. She didn’t stop, look back or falter. If her voice was working she would have thrown back her head and crowed. She didn’t let her eyes stray from the chalky path at the bottom of the garden that cut away into the forest. To the river, Alice sang to herself. To the river.
Once she was within the arms of the bush, Alice slowed to walking pace. Streams of light fell through the canopy and pooled at her feet. Crickets and bellbirds sang together, joined by the occasional whump-whump of a tree frog. She gazed at the gum trees overhead, their branches and leaves hushing each other in the wind. Monarch butterflies flap-flap-swooped over wild cotton bushes. She stopped to study lichen-covered rocks, the hairy curls of tree fern buds, and patches of sweet-smelling purple wildflowers. The air was rich with the smell of dry earth, vanilla and eucalyptus.
She’d almost forgotten why she’d come until she heard it. She stopped and listened. There it was, faint, but unmistakable; water called to her as vividly as if it were her mother’s voice. Alice bolted for the river, her hair streaming behind her.
The path came to an end at a clearing on the banks of a wide, green river. It didn’t curl, roar or crash like the ocean; it was calm, one flowing constant song. Alice was drawn to it the way everything else around her also seemed to be: tree roots reached into the river, as did long and wispy strands of moss that clung to half-submerged rocks.
Do not go into the river.
Alice made a silent apology to Candy as she kicked off her boots. She’d just peeled off her socks when she noticed a thin trail leading off along the riverbank.
She strained to see where it led. Candy had made no mention of another trail. Second chances aren’t easy to come by around here. Alice crept towards it. She’d just take a peek. But, to her disappointment, the trail didn’t lead anywhere. It ended abruptly, almost as soon as it began, at a tiny circular nook in the shade by the river, big enough for maybe two people. Alice scuffed her feet in the dust, sighing in disappointment. But as she turned to go back to the river, something caught her eye: the gilded edge of something big enough to block the sun. Her eyebrows shot up as she took in the size of the giant river red gum. Its trunk was wider than she was tall. Alice looked into the arms of the tree that reached so high she couldn’t see its top. The thought of climbing it made her hands clammy. Its branches were heavy with flowering blossoms and fragrant, crescent-shaped leaves. Its roots ran into the river, creating pockets that were filled with gum nuts, leaves and flowers. It was a king of trees. But more mesmerising to Alice than anything else was the spot on its trunk where a list of names was carved. Although they started above her eye level, when she stood on tiptoe with her head leant back, Alice could read them all. She recognised Ruth Stone’s name but didn’t know any others, until she got to the last two.
June Hart.
Beside June’s name was a deep cut, where Alice guessed another name was once carved. Below was Alice’s father’s name: Clem Hart. And next to it was a similar scar, where yet another name must have been. Alice tried to make sense of the list, as if it was maybe a secret language like the flowers, but she couldn’t. Ruth Stone, Jacob Wyld. Wattle Hart, Lucas Hart. June Hart. Clem Hart. Plus the two gouged from the wood.
The harsh screech of a cockatoo made her jump. Something about the missing names and the smallness of the cleared space made her nervous.
When the cockatoo shrieked again, Alice scurried back to the clearing by the river and stood panting, willing her heart to slow.