The Tunnels of Tarcoola by Jennifer Walsh

in.’
    â€˜I’ll tell them.’ Kitty took the frail hand in hers.
    â€˜Father knew all about it. It was up here.’
    She tapped the side of her snowy head. The sparse hair stood out like feathers.
    â€˜They all looked up to him, you know. Father knew where everything was. But then the canary died, and they brought another one, and it died too. All the yellow canaries.’
    She drew a daffodil from the vase and held it against her face.
    â€˜The wolf boy can’t go there, you know. It’s safe. It really is safe.’
    â€˜It’s all right,’ Kitty patted Miss Gordon’s hand. ‘Please don’t cry.’ She saw again the flying rubble, the cloud of dust that the wreckers would make. How could she tell Miss Gordon about that? Here in the nursing home, with the treetops to screen Tarcoola from view, the old lady need never know that her house was gone. But Kitty had to save the treasure!
    A nurse came in and bustled over to the bed.
    â€˜Is everything all right?’
    â€˜She’s upset,’ admitted Kitty.
    â€˜Don’t let him come back!’ pleaded the old lady.
    â€˜Oh dear, she’s right off the air today,’ observed the nurse. ‘You’d better go, love.’
    â€˜Okay.’ Kitty moved reluctantly towards the door. The nurse came with her, as though to escort her off the premises. ‘There’s someone called the wolf boy, you see,’ Kitty explained. ‘I think she’s scared of him.’
    â€˜Wolf boy, bogeyman,’ scoffed the nurse. ‘It’s all in her mind.’ She tapped her head meaningfully.
    â€˜Has she had a visitor?’ persisted Kitty.
    â€˜Only Mr Buckingham,’ said the nurse. ‘You can’t call him the bogeyman! He was mayor a couple of years ago. She’s lucky he takes an interest in her.’
    â€˜What sort of interest?’ asked Kitty.
    â€˜Pays all the extras here,’ said the nurse. ‘This private room, for a start. He’s no relation, either – just does it out of kindness. They found her homeless, you know. Sleeping rough in some ruined house. I’m surprised they didn’t put her in a mental hospital.’
    â€˜She’s not mad!’ said Kitty indignantly.
    â€˜Course not,’ conceded the nurse. ‘She’s a dear old thing. Good as gold most of the time. But she’s certainly out of it today!’
    Kitty went slowly down the stairs and out into the street. Mr Buckingham. She would have to ask her parents if they knew who he was. She remembered a Samantha Buckingham who was at her school for a while, in Martin’s year – a pretty girl, but a real snob.
    There was a white car parked outside the Home with a man leaning against it, smoking. He was tall and thin, and his red hair glinted in the sun. As Kitty emerged, the man ground out his cigarette and got into the car. She heard the engine start up.
    Sweetheart was also there, tied to a lamp-post.
    â€˜Hello, Sweetheart!’ said Kitty, offering her hand. The dog snuffled and slobbered at it, her tail thumping. Kitty looked around to see Cec emerge from the building, spruced up in a clean shirt and a fraying tie.
    â€˜Hello, Cec!’ she called.
    â€˜Hello, little lady!’ Cec made his way over to her. ‘Just been to see Ruby Walker. She won’t last much longer, poor old soul.’
    â€˜I’ll take Sweetheart.’ Kitty untied the dog and took the leash in her hand. Sweetheart lumbered into motion, pointing unerringly towards home.
    The white car roared off with a screech of tyres.
    â€˜Flamin’ idiots!’ said Cec. ‘ ’Scuse my French.’
    â€˜I’ve been researching local history,’ said Kitty as they walked. ‘Did you know that there were Japanese submarines right here in the Harbour during the war, blowing things up?’
    â€˜Well now, Win’s the one to tell you about that. She hid under