looking. She smiled and squeezed her hand. Kelpie felt herself smiling back.
Dymphna smiled as if she wasn’t worried that they were being followed by Mr. Davidson. As if she hadn’t seen a man with his throat cut open that morning. Kelpie wondered what it would be like to stay with her. Dymphna had given Mrs. Darcy ten pounds like it was nothing! And those clothes she wore. She probably had more money than Old Man O’Reilly. It would be nice to have someone with money looking out for her. She’d never be hungry.
But with the coppers and Mr. Davidson after her, how long was Dymphna going to be able to hang on to that money?
Palmer again pushed through the fat man, who stumbled. Kelpie could see the ghost boy. He hadn’t moved.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Palmer asked. “Because he’s got that sickly look. Like there’s no blood in him. Miserable.”
Kelpie nodded slightly then turned away. She thought about asking Dymphna where she was going. Where was her home? Somewhere safe, she hoped. For Dymphna’s sake. She was still going to run, but she wanted to believe Dymphna was safe.
The tram stopped again. Out the back window, the Hills was now three blocks away.
She didn’t try anything. Too many obstacles, and Dymphna hadn’t let go of her hand.
It didn’t take long before Kelpie stopped recognising anything out the window. The buildings were tall and fancy with giant awnings overhanging shops selling so many different things Kelpiedidn’t know how anyone could use it all. There were more people than at Paddy’s Markets.
Kelpie’d never been this far into town before. The city was full of men in clean suits and hats who worked at the kind of places Surry Hills people would never set foot in. Like banks, where they stole your money. Only the police never called bank people thieves or robbers. All her life Kelpie had been hearing people in the Hills complain about banks, starting with Old Ma.
Kelpie was glad Mrs. Darcy had made her wash and wear shoes. She would have stood out something awful if she hadn’t. Everyone on the tram wore shoes. They were all clean too, faces scrubbed, hair untangled. Most had hats on. The men wore ties and the women gloves.
But even after running from the police and climbing through fences, Dymphna Campbell looked more of a lady than any of them. Kelpie felt a little flush of pride. The fancy lady was holding
her
hand, not any of theirs. Even if she was holding it to make sure Kelpie didn’t run away.
Kelpie was the only kid. Well, her and the ghost, and even he had shoes and a little tie. Hat as well. If he was from the Hills, he must’ve been from one of the few posh places left up near O’Reilly’s.
Palmer tried to talk to him, but the boy didn’t respond. Maybe he was frozen. Kelpie’d never come across a ghost who didn’t move. But why not? Maybe he sat on the tram all day staring at whoever was opposite. Never moving an inch. The thought gave her the shivers. She decided not to look at the little boy ghost again.
She didn’t see any kids out the window either. She’d heard that in town kids without parents were gathered up by Welfare in huge black trucks. She’d never seen one, but then she didn’t hardly ever leave the Hills.
Town wasn’t safe. Kelpie wasn’t sure this tram was safe. Dymphna definitely wasn’t safe. But if Kelpie ran off on her own in town, she could be nabbed by Welfare.
“That’s David Jones,” Dymphna said, pointing out the window. Kelpie saw a sea of hats bobbing up and down, dotted with the occasional grey of ghosts. She didn’t know why Dymphna thought Kelpie should know who David Jones was or how Dymphna could spot one man in such a crowd.
“The store, silly,” Dymphna said. “It’s the best in the city. Anything in the world you want is at David Jones, and this is where we change trams.” She led Kelpie from the tram. Kelpie turned to catcha last glimpse of the boy, but Palmer blocked her view. The boy probably
Dymphna smiled as if she wasn’t worried that they were being followed by Mr. Davidson. As if she hadn’t seen a man with his throat cut open that morning. Kelpie wondered what it would be like to stay with her. Dymphna had given Mrs. Darcy ten pounds like it was nothing! And those clothes she wore. She probably had more money than Old Man O’Reilly. It would be nice to have someone with money looking out for her. She’d never be hungry.
But with the coppers and Mr. Davidson after her, how long was Dymphna going to be able to hang on to that money?
Palmer again pushed through the fat man, who stumbled. Kelpie could see the ghost boy. He hadn’t moved.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Palmer asked. “Because he’s got that sickly look. Like there’s no blood in him. Miserable.”
Kelpie nodded slightly then turned away. She thought about asking Dymphna where she was going. Where was her home? Somewhere safe, she hoped. For Dymphna’s sake. She was still going to run, but she wanted to believe Dymphna was safe.
The tram stopped again. Out the back window, the Hills was now three blocks away.
She didn’t try anything. Too many obstacles, and Dymphna hadn’t let go of her hand.
It didn’t take long before Kelpie stopped recognising anything out the window. The buildings were tall and fancy with giant awnings overhanging shops selling so many different things Kelpiedidn’t know how anyone could use it all. There were more people than at Paddy’s Markets.
Kelpie’d never been this far into town before. The city was full of men in clean suits and hats who worked at the kind of places Surry Hills people would never set foot in. Like banks, where they stole your money. Only the police never called bank people thieves or robbers. All her life Kelpie had been hearing people in the Hills complain about banks, starting with Old Ma.
Kelpie was glad Mrs. Darcy had made her wash and wear shoes. She would have stood out something awful if she hadn’t. Everyone on the tram wore shoes. They were all clean too, faces scrubbed, hair untangled. Most had hats on. The men wore ties and the women gloves.
But even after running from the police and climbing through fences, Dymphna Campbell looked more of a lady than any of them. Kelpie felt a little flush of pride. The fancy lady was holding
her
hand, not any of theirs. Even if she was holding it to make sure Kelpie didn’t run away.
Kelpie was the only kid. Well, her and the ghost, and even he had shoes and a little tie. Hat as well. If he was from the Hills, he must’ve been from one of the few posh places left up near O’Reilly’s.
Palmer tried to talk to him, but the boy didn’t respond. Maybe he was frozen. Kelpie’d never come across a ghost who didn’t move. But why not? Maybe he sat on the tram all day staring at whoever was opposite. Never moving an inch. The thought gave her the shivers. She decided not to look at the little boy ghost again.
She didn’t see any kids out the window either. She’d heard that in town kids without parents were gathered up by Welfare in huge black trucks. She’d never seen one, but then she didn’t hardly ever leave the Hills.
Town wasn’t safe. Kelpie wasn’t sure this tram was safe. Dymphna definitely wasn’t safe. But if Kelpie ran off on her own in town, she could be nabbed by Welfare.
“That’s David Jones,” Dymphna said, pointing out the window. Kelpie saw a sea of hats bobbing up and down, dotted with the occasional grey of ghosts. She didn’t know why Dymphna thought Kelpie should know who David Jones was or how Dymphna could spot one man in such a crowd.
“The store, silly,” Dymphna said. “It’s the best in the city. Anything in the world you want is at David Jones, and this is where we change trams.” She led Kelpie from the tram. Kelpie turned to catcha last glimpse of the boy, but Palmer blocked her view. The boy probably
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