The smooth and even flow of the river calmed her. Heat and humidity pressed on her skin. A bead of sweat rolled down her spine. Promise to come back as soon as you’ve had a quick look at the river. Straight back.
Alice couldn’t stop herself. She whipped her T-shirt and shorts off, left them by her already discarded boots, and stepped down the bank onto the sandy shore. When the cool water lapped at her feet she shuddered from the familiar comfort of it. The last time she’d gone for a swim felt so far away and so long ago, she could barely remember the taste of salt water. She walked in up to her knees, lulled by the gentle current, then up to her waist, fanning the surface of the water with her open hands. Her shoulders loosened. The forest around her ticked and buzzed.
She glanced towards the gum tree, thinking about the names carved into its trunk. The river is another story altogether, June had said when they’d been in the flower field together. It’s belonged to my family for generations. Our family. Alice looked down through the water, at her feet on the sandy bottom. Was a river a thing that could ever be owned? Wouldn’t that be like someone trying to say they owned the sea? Alice knew that when you were in it, the sea owned you. Still, the thought that she was somehow a part of this place filled a small space inside her with warmth. Overhead a kookaburra burbled. Alice nodded. Enough thinking. She took a step forward and sank into the swirling green water, leaving all her unasked questions on the surface.
The sweet and absolute absence of salt shocked her. Her eyes didn’t sting. She exhaled bubbles and watched them rise and pop. The heart of the river beat in Alice’s ears. Her father told her once that all water eventually ran to the same source. A new question bloomed: could she swim down river, through time, all the way home?
Alice pondered the question for so long that she stayed underwater until her lungs were burning. She pressed her feet firmly on the riverbed and pushed herself to the surface, coming up spluttering. It hadn’t hurt so much to breathe since the fire. Suddenly the light in the bush didn’t seem as welcoming, nor did the water feel as soothing. She staggered out of the river, coughing hard as she scrambled up the bank and onto dry ground. She coughed and coughed, bent over, hands on her knees.
‘Are you all right?’
She spun towards the voice.
There he was. On the other side of the river. The boy from the car.
Alice doubled over coughing again, her nose and eyes running. She couldn’t stop. The more she tried the harder she coughed. When she started to cry, coughing turned into retching. Behind her, a loud splash was followed a few moments later by water dripping on her feet. The boy was at her side, sopping wet.
‘Breathe in, think “in”. Breathe out, think “out”.’ He rested his hand between her shoulder blades. She glanced at him and followed his instructions.
In. Out.
In. Out.
Slowly, her coughing receded.
When she stood, she realised too late that she was wearing nothing but her knickers. Her face burned as she grabbed her T-shirt and shorts and, before she could look at his face again, tore off down the path.
‘Hey!’ he called. Alice would not look back.
Only when the bush met the boundary of the flower farm did she stop to put her clothes on. It wasn’t until she noticed her bare feet that she realised she’d left her boots by the river.
As she ran along the edge of the flower fields towards the house, the early afternoon sun warmed her skin. Her face had cooled. She didn’t know what she would do about her boots other than try to sneak out later to get them.
Across the fields the workshop air conditioners hummed. The Flowers were inside, tending to their cuttings from the morning. Alice sprinted lightly up the steps of the back verandah. The tables were clean, the chairs all neatly pushed in. She didn’t know how long she had been gone. Had she missed lunch? Her stomach growled loudly in response. Alice tiptoed towards the screen door.
Inside, there didn’t seem to be anyone about. Maybe Twig and Candy were in the workshop too. Alice relaxed. She went into the kitchen looking for food and found bread, butter and Vegemite to make herself two sandwiches.
‘You must have an appetite the size of Harry’s today!’
Alice froze, then turned, forcing herself to smile calmly at Twig, who stood in the doorway.
‘Candy said you ate your lunch upstairs earlier, after such a tough morning. She said you polished off your plate.’
Unsure of what to do, Alice nodded. She’d missed lunch. She must have been gone for much longer than she thought, and was queasy at the idea of getting in trouble, or worse, getting Candy in trouble. But Candy had covered for her. The thought made her genuinely happy.
‘A good appetite is as important as a good attitude, I like to say,’ Twig said as she walked away, down the hall. ‘Listen, speaking of Harry, when you finish your sandwiches, come on into the lounge room, will you?’
Alice exhaled the breath she’d been holding; Twig didn’t seem to have noticed her dusty bare feet or damp hair.
As she stood in the kitchen, chewing her sandwiches, Alice couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She had one thing now, one thing at Thornfield that felt like it was her own. Her first visit to the river would always be hers alone. Except, of course, for the boy. At the thought of him, Alice’s cheeks burned anew. She put her sandwich down. It had suddenly lost all flavour.
The lounge room was airy and bright. Twig sat on the couch with Harry at her feet, who occasionally sighed as she scratched his ears. Alice joined them, sitting in the same spot as earlier that morning, after June carried her downstairs and disappeared. That felt like days ago. Outside, Alice noticed June’s truck was parked by the workshop. Would she be joining them? The thought made her nervous. She rubbed her eyes. They were suddenly very heavy.
‘I think June’s mentioned to you that our Harry here has special powers?’ Twig asked.
Alice nodded, yawning.
‘I thought I might teach you the ways we talk to Harry, whenever we need help.’
Hearing his name, Harry’s ears half-heartedly perked under Twig’s massaging fingers. He slouched against Twig’s legs, slack-jawed and occasionally drooling. Hardly a super-dog, Alice thought.
‘Harry’s what’s called an Assistance Dog. Have you heard of Assistance Dogs before, Alice?’
She shook her head. Before Harry, the only dog she’d ever known was Toby, and he wasn’t her assistant. He was her best friend.
‘Assistance Dogs are specially trained to help people when they’re afraid. Dogs like Harry can pick up on people’s emotions. They can comfort you and distract you when you’re sad or scared or upset.’ Twig smiled as Harry licked her hand. ‘Maybe Harry’s brought you a little bit of that comfort and distraction already, since you arrived?’ she asked, looking over at Alice.
Alice thought about Harry staying by her side in the truck after she and June pulled up at Thornfield. He’d been there when she’d woken from her bad dreams, and even managed to get her to come downstairs yesterday. She took in his big toothy smile, his black-tipped ears and golden face. He wasn’t Toby, but Twig was right; there was something about Harry that made her feel better.
‘Harry’s assistance is usually most needed when we have someone new join us here at Thornfield. So, any time you need him, Alice, anytime you’re upset, scared or panicked, remember Harry is here for you. As we all are.’ Twig smiled. She smoothed Harry’s ears down, gave his flanks a pat. ‘Most of Harry’s commands are spoken, but we use visual commands too. I’ll teach you those, okay?’