The Road Back by Di Morrissey

four boys and three girls all about the girls’ age, and the fun they were having was infectious. Megan and Ruby didn’t need a second invitation to grab the rope and swing out over the water.
    â€˜Do you think there’d be fish in here, Dad?’ asked Megan as she bobbed up beside her father.
    â€˜Not any more,’ he laughed. ‘This mob would frighten away an elephant!’
    Finally, arms tiring from hanging on to the rope, they all floated in the pool and began to chat lazily with the local teenagers.
    â€˜How’d you find this place?’ asked one of the boys. ‘You’re new. Not that it’s a problem,’ he added, aftereyeing the two girls.
    â€˜I brought them. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid,’ said Chris. ‘In fact I might go upstream a bit further, I remember another spot I used to like.’
    â€˜It gets a bit overgrown further on,’ said another of the boys.
    â€˜Yeah. I remember. If I’m not back in half an hour or so, send out a search party.’ He winked at Megan. ‘I’ll be fine. You stay here.’
    Chris swam confidently through the water and thought back to the times he had spent in this creek, years ago. Often he and his mates had come out here adventuring, exploring, swimming and fishing. Memories flooded back to him. Even the trees looked familiar. There was one tree he remembered particularly well. He’d always loved its wide branches that were flat enough to lie on. Once he and Shaun French had dragged an old plywood sheet up onto one of them to make a platform they could both fit on. One winter in the freezing rain they’d settled themselves on the precarious platform above the river, to watch the swirling creek. Shaun had suddenly seen something floating downstream.
    â€˜Hey, is that somebody’s fishing rod? Let’s grab it,’ he’d yelled.
    â€˜No, it can’t be,’ shouted Chris. ‘No one would be fishing when the weather’s like this.’
    But Shaun had ignored him. He’d leaned forwards and tried to grab the long pole as it swirled past. Suddenly, without warning, he’d lost his balance and had fallen into the river. The creek had raced furiously, carrying the boy with it, and Shaun had been swept from sight in seconds.
    Chris had scrambled down the tree and, quickly slashing one of the ropes holding the platform in place with his pocket knife, he’d racedback along the bank, carrying the rope and shouting Shaun’s name. As he’d rounded a bend in the creek, he’d seen Shaun on the opposite side, clinging to the root of a eucalyptus tree.
    Chris had tied one end of the rope to a sturdy tree and, with the other end tied around his waist, he’d made his way across the creek, fighting against the current. But the rope had held, and he hadn’t been swept away. Even now, Chris wondered how he’d managed to haul Shaun back across the creek to the safety of the bank.
    By the time they’d ridden their bikes home that day, they’d decided not to tell anyone what had happened. They hadn’t wanted to be forbidden from going back to the creek. It would just be their secret, and they’d never mentioned it again. Chris wondered if Shaun still remembered the incident.
    He gazed around at the tranquil scene, remembering how different it had been that grey afternoon. So much water had gone under the proverbial bridge since then, he thought. Good times, bad times, exciting times and now . . . well, things weren’t going quite as he’d planned. He turned and went back to the main pool where the girls were laughing with the other young people.
    â€˜I’m hungry,’ he told them. ‘I’m going back to Bunny. See you when you want to eat,’ he called.
    The girls arrived back shortly afterwards with two of the boys and a girl who was about their age. Susan offered them some sandwiches and fruit as Chris sat