The Lost Valley

Chapter 2-2

Isabelle watched Thomas and Henry climb from the back seat of the great, grey Buick; a hulking car that looked out of place beneath the graceful blue gums lining Binburra’s driveway. The boys shuffled their feet and stole sideways glances at her. They looked older than she’d expected, with their pressed suits and neat Scotch College haircuts. Like little men instead of children.

Rex and Shadow, the resident Newfoundland dogs, trotted up and inspected them. The children shrank back.

‘They’re perfectly friendly,’ said Isabelle. Thomas and Henry did not look convinced. ‘I’ll put them away. Until you get used to them.’

When she returned, the driver was taking two small suitcases from the trunk.

‘Is that all they have?’ she asked.

‘Yes, madam, apart from this.’ He handed her an envelope. ‘A letter from their governess.’ And with that the car lumbered away.

The twins weren’t identical, but looked very much alike. One of them smiled at her. Taller than his brother, hair lighter, dark blonde. He pointed to the letter. ‘Don’t believe everything you read, Miss.’

She felt a stab of shame. Was that Thomas or Henry? It had been such a long time since she’d seen them. She couldn’t very well ask. What sort of grandmother doesn’t know her own grandchildren?

Isabelle put the letter in her pocket. She’d have to guess. The odds were fifty-fifty after all.

‘I’m your grandmother, Henry, and you don’t need to call me Miss.’

‘I’m Tom.’ He pointed to the other boy. ‘That’s Henry.’

‘Don’t call me that.’ Henry kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground. ‘Papa calls me Harry; everyone does.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘How long do we have to stay here?’

‘I don’t know, Harry,’ said Isabelle. ‘Some weeks I think.’

‘What do we call you, then?’ asked Tom. ‘We can’t call you Grandma. We already have one of those.’ He made a face. ‘One’s enough.’

Isabelle stifled a laugh. ‘Call me Nana.’

The boys exchanged an unreadable look. Harry had sharper features than his brother, his skin a shade darker, his eyes wary and watchful.

‘I’m sorry about your mother and father,’ she said, knowing how inadequate her words were. She was grateful, in that moment, for the lie Bertha had told them about the manner of their parents’ death. A violent intruder was heartbreaking, but it was something a ten-year-old could understand. Nobody, let alone a child, could understand one parent murdering another. Yet the rumours would undoubtedly be swirling around town. At least here in the remote Binburra Ranges, more than a hundred miles from Hobart, the boys would be shielded from that ugliness.

Harry’s guarded expression slipped and his eyes brimmed with tears. He knuckled them away as Tom wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

Isabelle wanted to hug them both, but sensed it was too soon. ‘I’m delighted you children are here. I’ll try my very best to make you happy.’

Harry frowned. ‘Looks like the middle of nowhere to me.’ A mere mumble, but Isabelle had sharp ears.

‘What about you, Tom? What do you think of Binburra?’

Tom ventured a look around, at the gracious homestead perched halfway up the hill. At the looming mountains and encroaching forest. A flock of green rosellas landed in the branches above him, and chittered a greeting. His face split into a grin. ‘I think it’s bonzer, Miss. Just bonzer.’

Tom pulled the covers up to his chin as Isabelle leaned over and made the blanket snug. Nobody had ever tucked him into bed except his mother. That sweet memory threatened to overwhelm him. This new grandmother didn’t smell of perfume though, like Mama did. She smelt of freshly baked bread, and cut grass and wood-smoke.

‘Shall I read you a story?’

Silence.

‘Have you had enough supper?’

‘Yes, Miss.’

‘Not Miss, Tom. Nana.’ She smoothed the paisley eiderdown. ‘Is there anything you do want?’

‘Yes, Miss.’ He hesitated a moment. ‘Could Harry sleep in here with me?’

‘If he wants to.’

‘Rex and Shadow as well? They don’t look like dogs, do they? They look like bears.’

She smiled in that kind way his mother had. ‘Let me see what I can do.’

Tom opened the curtains and gazed out across the ranges, bathed in bright moonshine. ‘It’s not so bad here.’

Harry patted Rex who was lying, watchful, by his bed, and joined Tom at the window. He put his lucky gold nugget on the window-sill – the one Papa had given him, the one he always kept in his pocket. It shone in the faint light. Tom ran a finger over its gleaming surface, and his brother snatched it away.

If only Tom had something from their old life too. Something more than clothes and shoes. His teddy perhaps, though Grandma Bertha said he was too big for that nonsense. Or a lock of Mama’s hair. Tom closed his eyes and her face appeared, so vivid and real he felt he could almost touch it. When he tried, she vanished like a half-remembered dream.

Harry took a penknife from his pocket and carved a word into the sill. Papa. ‘Do you miss him terribly? I miss Papa so much, I think I’ll die.’

Tom looked at his toes, feeling ashamed. The truth was, he missed his mother most. Her sweet smile and quiet voice. The touch of her hand. She and Tom had shared a special bond. Papa, on the other hand, had always liked Harry best. It made sense. Harry was good at everything that Papa cared about; algebra and geometry and building things. He was fascinated by how they crushed ore at the mine, and how they cut logs at the mill. He loved to spend time at the shipyard.

By contrast, Tom felt like a disappointment. He’d rather read a book than take an engine apart. He excelled at English, yet failed arithmetic. He liked chasing dragonflies by the pond and watching baby magpies learn to fly in the garden. Why can’t you be more like your brother? was his father’s constant mantra.

Harry kissed his lucky nugget. ‘When I grow up, I’m going to track down the man who murdered Mama and Papa. I’m going to kill him.’

Tom put his arm around his brother. Poor Harry. Papa had been his whole world. It was easier for Tom; he hadn’t loved Papa so completely. There was one good thing, at least. He couldn’t let his father down any more.