Instead of saying, ‘Yes, you’re right Fi, Homer doesn’t know what he’s talking about,’ I said precisely nothing. Homer looked like he’d been hit by a koala dropping from a great height. I don’t think Fi had ever disagreed with him before, especially on bush stuff.
Luckily Kevin suddenly said, ‘What are we going to do about food?’ and that changed the subject.
We made a lot of decisions in a short time. The main one was that we’d continue for an hour, following the gully to see if it opened up, offering different routes. At the end of that time, if it was still going on indefinitely, two of us would return for food. And that meant trekking all the way into Hell, a horrible idea that appealed to no-one.
Ten minutes later however, completely unexpectedly, we did come to the end of the gully. But it didn’t open up. The first I realised the trouble we were in was when I saw Homer, ahead of me, drop to his hands and knees and crawl forward.
I came up behind him. Then I realised. He was peering over the edge of a cliff. A trickle of water from the gully, the best it could do in this dry summer, even with the recent rain, was gurgling over the side. Fi and I stared anxiously at each other. If the kids had come upon this, suddenly, in the middle of the night, as they staggered along tired and lost and upset ... I wondered if I looked as pale and scared as Fi.
‘There’s no sign of anything on the edge here,’ Lee said to me, meaning, no scratches or torn moss or disturbed rocks. I was grateful that in spite of what had happened between us he was still trying to be friendly, to do the right thing. But I wasn’t reassured about the fate of the kids. I felt cold and clammy when I remembered the cliff into the Holloway Valley: how I’d lost my grip with no warning and slid down, losing my fingertips on the way. And that cliff had been a garden wall compared to this monster. This was sudden and sheer and very very high.
‘Come away,’ Fi said to Homer. ‘It doesn’t look safe.’
True, the edge did seem crumbly. As if to prove it, a little shower of soil and rocks disappeared over the side when Homer stepped back.
‘Could you see anything?’ Lee asked Homer.
‘No, nothing.’
‘So what do we do now?’ Fi asked.
‘Spread out along the sides,’ I suggested. ‘It’s going to be a hell of a job to get down there. We shouldn’t even try until we’re certain they’re not up here.’
It was the best news I’d had for a long time when Kevin called us to a spot about four hundred metres from the waterfall and showed us where lots of scrapes and muddied grass marked the spot where the kids had climbed over the edge. They’d picked quite a good place. There was a cleft in the cliff, as though God had hacked into it with a giant axe. From where we stood it looked like the cleft ran right to the bottom.
‘How long do you think since they went over?’ I asked Homer.
‘Some time this morning,’ he said. ‘I don’t think this grass would look so freshly crushed if it was last night.’
‘Must have been horrible for Casey,’ I said.
The time had come to split our forces. Homer and I somehow got elected to go down the cliff. The other three convinced us they could find their way back to Tailor’s Stitch OK. Despite Lee’s question earlier I thought they shouldn’t have any real trouble. Our path had been pretty clearly defined all the way down, and I told them a few landmarks to watch for.
It left us with only two people searching, which was hopeless considering how serious things had become. But what else could we do? We needed a lot of new supplies from Hell. We’d be no use to anyone if we lost any more energy or strength. We were low enough already. All morning I’d forced myself along the gully, driven by fear and determination. I hadn’t allowed myself to feel the tiredness and despair which were damming up inside. The wall holding those feelings back was Glad Wrap-thin,
Luckily Kevin suddenly said, ‘What are we going to do about food?’ and that changed the subject.
We made a lot of decisions in a short time. The main one was that we’d continue for an hour, following the gully to see if it opened up, offering different routes. At the end of that time, if it was still going on indefinitely, two of us would return for food. And that meant trekking all the way into Hell, a horrible idea that appealed to no-one.
Ten minutes later however, completely unexpectedly, we did come to the end of the gully. But it didn’t open up. The first I realised the trouble we were in was when I saw Homer, ahead of me, drop to his hands and knees and crawl forward.
I came up behind him. Then I realised. He was peering over the edge of a cliff. A trickle of water from the gully, the best it could do in this dry summer, even with the recent rain, was gurgling over the side. Fi and I stared anxiously at each other. If the kids had come upon this, suddenly, in the middle of the night, as they staggered along tired and lost and upset ... I wondered if I looked as pale and scared as Fi.
‘There’s no sign of anything on the edge here,’ Lee said to me, meaning, no scratches or torn moss or disturbed rocks. I was grateful that in spite of what had happened between us he was still trying to be friendly, to do the right thing. But I wasn’t reassured about the fate of the kids. I felt cold and clammy when I remembered the cliff into the Holloway Valley: how I’d lost my grip with no warning and slid down, losing my fingertips on the way. And that cliff had been a garden wall compared to this monster. This was sudden and sheer and very very high.
‘Come away,’ Fi said to Homer. ‘It doesn’t look safe.’
True, the edge did seem crumbly. As if to prove it, a little shower of soil and rocks disappeared over the side when Homer stepped back.
‘Could you see anything?’ Lee asked Homer.
‘No, nothing.’
‘So what do we do now?’ Fi asked.
‘Spread out along the sides,’ I suggested. ‘It’s going to be a hell of a job to get down there. We shouldn’t even try until we’re certain they’re not up here.’
It was the best news I’d had for a long time when Kevin called us to a spot about four hundred metres from the waterfall and showed us where lots of scrapes and muddied grass marked the spot where the kids had climbed over the edge. They’d picked quite a good place. There was a cleft in the cliff, as though God had hacked into it with a giant axe. From where we stood it looked like the cleft ran right to the bottom.
‘How long do you think since they went over?’ I asked Homer.
‘Some time this morning,’ he said. ‘I don’t think this grass would look so freshly crushed if it was last night.’
‘Must have been horrible for Casey,’ I said.
The time had come to split our forces. Homer and I somehow got elected to go down the cliff. The other three convinced us they could find their way back to Tailor’s Stitch OK. Despite Lee’s question earlier I thought they shouldn’t have any real trouble. Our path had been pretty clearly defined all the way down, and I told them a few landmarks to watch for.
It left us with only two people searching, which was hopeless considering how serious things had become. But what else could we do? We needed a lot of new supplies from Hell. We’d be no use to anyone if we lost any more energy or strength. We were low enough already. All morning I’d forced myself along the gully, driven by fear and determination. I hadn’t allowed myself to feel the tiredness and despair which were damming up inside. The wall holding those feelings back was Glad Wrap-thin,
Similar Books
