The Light Between Oceans(61)

The child stood in the back doorway, watching the end of the argument, spellbound. She had never heard so many words come from Tom’s mouth, never so loud. Never seen him cry.



‘She’s gone!’ Isabel’s words greeted Tom as he returned to the Graysmarks’ that afternoon, in the company of Bluey. ‘Lucy! I left her outside playing with the cat while I went to pack. I thought Mum was watching her, and she thought I was watching her.’

‘Calm down. Calm down Izz,’ he said, and put a hand on each arm. ‘Take it quietly. When did you last see her?’

‘An hour ago? Two at the most.’

‘When did you realise she’d gone?’

‘Just now. Dad’s gone to look for her, up in the bush at the back.’ Partageuse frilled in and out of native bush land at its fringes, and beyond the Graysmarks’ neat, lawned garden lay acres of scrub that led into forest.

‘Tom, thank goodness you’re back.’ Violet came rushing on to the verandah. ‘I’m so sorry – it’s all my fault. I should have checked on her! Bill’s gone to search up along the old logging track …’

‘Are there any other places she’s likely to have gone?’ Tom’s methodical, practical reflex came to the fore. ‘Anywhere you and Bill told her stories about?’

‘She could be anywhere,’ said Violet, shaking her head.

‘Tom, there are snakes. Redbacks. God help us!’ Isabel implored.

Bluey spoke up. ‘I used to spend all day in that bush when I was a kid, Mrs S. She’ll be all right. We’ll find her, no trouble. Come on, Tom.’

‘Izz – Bluey and I’ll head into the bush, see if we can find any tracks. You have another look around the garden and out the front. Violet, double check the house – all the cupboards and under the beds. Anywhere she could have followed the cat. If we don’t find her in the next hour, we’ll have to send for the police, get the black-trackers out.’

Isabel flashed him a look at the mention of police.

‘It won’t come to that,’ said Bluey. ‘She’ll be right as rain, Mrs S, you wait and see.’

It was only when they were out of earshot of the women that Bluey said to Tom, ‘Let’s hope she’s been making a racket as she goes. Snakes sleep during the day. They’ll get out of your way if they hear you coming. But if they’re surprised … Has she ever wandered off before?’

‘She’s never had any-bloody-where to wander to,’ Tom said sharply, then, ‘Sorry, Blue. Didn’t mean to – it’s just she hasn’t really got much of a feel for distance. On Janus, everywhere’s close to home.’

They walked on, calling the child’s name as they went, and waiting in vain for a reply. They were following the remnants of a path, now mostly overgrown at adult height, where branches reached over the empty space below. But at her height, Lucy would have met no resistance.

About fifteen minutes in, the path opened out into a clearing, then forked in opposite directions. ‘Loads of these trails,’ said Bluey. ‘They’d clear a route, back in the old days, when they went scouting for good timber country. There are still soaks here and there, so you’ve got to watch out. They’re usually covered over,’ he said, referring to the wells dug to get at groundwater.

The child from the lighthouse has little fear. She knows not to go too near cliff edges. She understands that spiders can bite, and should be avoided. She is clear that she mustn’t try to swim unless Mamma or Dadda is beside her. In the water, she can tell the difference between the fin of a friendly dolphin, which goes up and down, and of a shark, which stays steady as it cuts the surface. In Partageuse, if she pulls the cat’s tail it might scratch her. These are the boundaries of danger.

So as she follows Tabatha Tabby beyond the borders of the garden, she has no concept of getting lost. After a while she can no longer see the cat, but by then it is too late – she is too far away simply to retrace her steps, and the more she tries, the further she wanders.

Eventually, she comes to a clearing, where she sits down by a log. She takes in her surroundings. There are soldier ants, which she knows to avoid, and she makes sure she’s a good distance from the trail they’re making. She’s not concerned. Mamma and Dadda will find her.

As she sits there, drawing patterns in the sandy soil with a twig, she notices a strange creature, longer than her finger, approach from under the log. It’s like nothing she’s ever seen before: a long body, and legs like an insect or a spider, but two fat arms like one of the crabs Dadda catches sometimes on Janus. Fascinated, she touches it with the twig, and its tail rapidly curls up in a beautiful arch, pointing to its head. In that moment, a second creature appears, a few inches away.

She is mesmerised by the way the insects follow her twig, trying to grab it with their crab claws. A third one emerges from under the log. The seconds pass slowly.

As they reach the clearing, Tom gives a start. He sees a small, shod foot protruding from behind a log.

‘Lucy!’ He races to the log, where the little girl sits playing with a stick. He freezes as he recognises the shape clinging to the end of the twig as a scorpion. ‘Jesus, Lucy!’ He grabs the little girl under her arms and lifts her high in the air as he dashes the scorpion to the ground and crushes it under his foot. ‘Lucy, what the hell are you doing?’ he cries.