of bush music in the breeze.
Tink, tink, tink .
Eventually, Samson glanced at Mattie. Her skin glittered like a kaleidoscope of rainbow fish scales.
Samsonâs extra chromosome lightened, a balloon being filled with air inside him. Maybe Mattie Kelly was his Dreaming Snake, and Samson was her ground. She moved around him, pushing him into the shape of mountains and gullies, rivers and lakes, trees and even flowers. The sign for rainbow was four fingers that moved in an arc. Each finger meant a different colour, with the thumb hidden behind all four.
On the edge of the creek, Mattieâs arm around him, Samson imagined he was the thumb.
Clancy called for Queenie again from the edge of his verandah. âIâve got steak,â he tried, but the bush lifted his voice and, instead of carrying it through the trees, turned it into a ghostly echo. Where the hell was she? He hadnât seen her since the day after the boys arrived almost a week ago. The same day heâd sent her away, as though she hadnât made the climb with him a hundred times.
âQueenie, Queenie, Queen-eee!â he called to the tune of âOlly Olly Oxen Freeâ. He waited, but she didnât come. No sign, and the shouting made his headache worse.
His head had been throbbing for days. Every night after a few hours of telly, he and the boys would hit the sack. Samson slept with the bedroom door open, even though Jonah didnât want him to. Clancy would leave them to their bickering and get into his own bed. Sleep would come, but not in the comfortable, warm waves he had known when he was younger. These days his sleep moved through him like a thunderous wind, snapping inside his thoughts, lifting him out of his bed and then dropping him. Some mornings heâd wake and feel as if heâd been walking for hours. Some mornings heâd even wake with dirty hands like heâd been digging in his sleep.
âQueenie!â he shouted again. He checked under the back verandah, as he had every morning since she went missing. Dozens of chewed sticks, soup bones cleaned of meat and marrow, but no sign of his dog. He walked around to the front verandah and peered underneath. An old bedsheet was half buried in the dirt, but no Queenie.
He stared into the bush and thought of the tiny red pup whoâd changed her tail to look more like a Fox. George would have been able to find her.
Clancy went back inside. Next to the mudroom, Queenieâs water bowl and dry food dish were full. He had been keeping them fresh for her. Again, he checked all her favourite places in the house. Under his bed, then behind the couch and the floor of the pantry. He even checked Samson and Jonahâs bedroom. Jonah was still asleep, his blankets pulled up over his head in a fabric cocoon. Clancy made a hell of a racket looking around, but Jonah didnât stir. Samsonâs bed was empty. Clancy didnât worry â the boy was rarely there for breakfast but was always back by dinner.
Clancy walked back outside. The sky was clear. He took a deep breath and shook his head. He should never have sent her away. He shouldâve let her come with him. Sheâd never sulked this long. A day or two was normal, and once her hearing had started to go, Clancy suspected she sometimes stayed away only because she couldnât always hear him call. He wasnât sure what she ate when she went bush, but she mustâve got her tucker because she never came back starving.
âQueenie?â Clancy kicked the edging around Essieâs dead rose bed. She would have said he was acting guilty, and she wouldâve been right. Missing Queenie had reminded him of things heâd rather not think about, but it was no good. A memory tugged at the corner of his mind, thin and clinging, like walking through a spider web at dusk. He remembered watching River and Murray play together on the lawn.
Murray was just seventeen, a year older than David, and
Tink, tink, tink .
Eventually, Samson glanced at Mattie. Her skin glittered like a kaleidoscope of rainbow fish scales.
Samsonâs extra chromosome lightened, a balloon being filled with air inside him. Maybe Mattie Kelly was his Dreaming Snake, and Samson was her ground. She moved around him, pushing him into the shape of mountains and gullies, rivers and lakes, trees and even flowers. The sign for rainbow was four fingers that moved in an arc. Each finger meant a different colour, with the thumb hidden behind all four.
On the edge of the creek, Mattieâs arm around him, Samson imagined he was the thumb.
Clancy called for Queenie again from the edge of his verandah. âIâve got steak,â he tried, but the bush lifted his voice and, instead of carrying it through the trees, turned it into a ghostly echo. Where the hell was she? He hadnât seen her since the day after the boys arrived almost a week ago. The same day heâd sent her away, as though she hadnât made the climb with him a hundred times.
âQueenie, Queenie, Queen-eee!â he called to the tune of âOlly Olly Oxen Freeâ. He waited, but she didnât come. No sign, and the shouting made his headache worse.
His head had been throbbing for days. Every night after a few hours of telly, he and the boys would hit the sack. Samson slept with the bedroom door open, even though Jonah didnât want him to. Clancy would leave them to their bickering and get into his own bed. Sleep would come, but not in the comfortable, warm waves he had known when he was younger. These days his sleep moved through him like a thunderous wind, snapping inside his thoughts, lifting him out of his bed and then dropping him. Some mornings heâd wake and feel as if heâd been walking for hours. Some mornings heâd even wake with dirty hands like heâd been digging in his sleep.
âQueenie!â he shouted again. He checked under the back verandah, as he had every morning since she went missing. Dozens of chewed sticks, soup bones cleaned of meat and marrow, but no sign of his dog. He walked around to the front verandah and peered underneath. An old bedsheet was half buried in the dirt, but no Queenie.
He stared into the bush and thought of the tiny red pup whoâd changed her tail to look more like a Fox. George would have been able to find her.
Clancy went back inside. Next to the mudroom, Queenieâs water bowl and dry food dish were full. He had been keeping them fresh for her. Again, he checked all her favourite places in the house. Under his bed, then behind the couch and the floor of the pantry. He even checked Samson and Jonahâs bedroom. Jonah was still asleep, his blankets pulled up over his head in a fabric cocoon. Clancy made a hell of a racket looking around, but Jonah didnât stir. Samsonâs bed was empty. Clancy didnât worry â the boy was rarely there for breakfast but was always back by dinner.
Clancy walked back outside. The sky was clear. He took a deep breath and shook his head. He should never have sent her away. He shouldâve let her come with him. Sheâd never sulked this long. A day or two was normal, and once her hearing had started to go, Clancy suspected she sometimes stayed away only because she couldnât always hear him call. He wasnât sure what she ate when she went bush, but she mustâve got her tucker because she never came back starving.
âQueenie?â Clancy kicked the edging around Essieâs dead rose bed. She would have said he was acting guilty, and she wouldâve been right. Missing Queenie had reminded him of things heâd rather not think about, but it was no good. A memory tugged at the corner of his mind, thin and clinging, like walking through a spider web at dusk. He remembered watching River and Murray play together on the lawn.
Murray was just seventeen, a year older than David, and
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