Lonesome Howl Read online

  Lucy listens

  The hardest part

  is listening to every sound,

  waiting for him to appear from behind a tree

  near the track,

  wet and furious,

  and both of us

  miles from anywhere.

  My step quickens.

  I try to get into a rhythm –

  ‘My dad is an arsehole,

  my dad is an arsehole’ –

  but it doesn’t work.

  All it does is bring him closer

  in these lonely woods.

  He lurks,

  a scowl tattooed across his face,

  and all I can do

  to stop him becoming real

  is keep my eyes down

  and pick my way through

  the overbearing bush.

  He waits for me

  around every corner.

  Lucy: a presence

  Suddenly,

  I feel a presence.

  My body tenses.

  I’m being watched.

  I search in the half-light

  for a movement through the trees.

  A silence creeps through the forest

  and I grip the branch tighter.

  I crouch, better to stay hidden,

  and try to slow my breathing.

  If he comes closer

  I’ll have to decide whether to run

  or face him,

  here,

  alone in the bush.

  For a second I close my eyes

  and see Jake, still asleep,

  curled in the cave,

  his head on my backpack.

  He’s dreaming of the wolf

  standing at the cave entrance.

  I hope his dream comes true.

  I can’t stay here much longer,

  hiding.

  Something is out there.

  I have to stand and face it

  or else I’ll never move.

  I push the branch into the ground

  and raise myself to the forest

  and its presence.

  Lucy: like a stray wolf

  There!

  Near the trees.

  A movement.

  Please don’t let him see me.

  I can’t escape, or attack.

  It’s an animal.

  A dog, or a . . .

  Moving slowly near the track,

  he stops and smells my scent.

  He looks straight at me.

  A silhouette in the tall grass.

  He’s not scared and neither am I.

  We take a step towards each other,

  inquisitive,

  as if pulled by some timeless bond.

  In that moment,

  my fear falls away

  and I’m lost in his eyes.

  How long has he been out here,

  searching?

  We stand facing each other.

  The wild dog and me.

  Slowly, carefully, I kneel down

  to be at his level.

  ‘Are you Shadow?

  Or the wolf?’

  The dog moves forward

  in response to my voice,

  his tongue out,

  head down,

  eyes never leaving me.

  His fur is grizzled grey and black.

  I reach my hand out,

  beckoning.

  ‘Come closer.

  Let me get a better look.’

  The dog bounds sideways

  into the bush and is gone.

  I fall to my knees

  and for a few minutes

  I can’t possibly move.

  I’ve seen him.

  He’s out here,

  like Jake said he was.

  I don’t know what to do.

  Go back to Jake and the cave

  and tell him what I saw?

  Or keep going, for help?

  I can still picture him

  standing there, looking at me,

  without making a sound.

  Like a ghost.

  That’s why Jake’s dad tells his story,

  over and over.

  He saw the wolf

  and telling his story keeps it real.

  Gives him strength.

  I stand straight,

  every muscle tingling,

  sure I can go on, ready for what I must do.

  I follow the track away from the cave,

  deeper into the woods.

  Like the stray wolf,

  I’m not alone.

  Lucy: Grandma

  ‘Time only goes one way.’

  That’s what Grandma

  used to say.

  Every time I’d sit with her

  on the verandah

  and tell her about school,

  Peter and his annoying ways,

  Mum not standing up for herself,

  or Dad and his temper,

  she’d just sit there and

  point her walking stick

  at the farmyard gate,

  as if wishing it open.

  I knew she wasn’t talking

  about waiting to die.

  She was telling me

  to hold tight,

  to wait,

  that it’ll all pass.

  I’d follow her eyes

  to the gate

  and I’d whisper,

  ‘Time only goes one way.’

  When she died,

  I wanted to put it

  on her headstone,

  up on the hill.

  But no one listened to me,

  except Grandma,

  and she was gone.

  Lucy: fractured sounds bad

  The sky is early-morning blue

  and you could get lost in it.

  I see the vapour trail of a jet miles above

  and for once

  I don’t wish I was escaping on it.

  I’m returning along the track

  to Jake’s farm

  to get help.

  What will I say?

  How much will I say?

  Jake’s voice echoes,

  ‘Just tell them I’m all right,

  I’ve hurt my ankle.

  Don’t say anything is fractured.

  That sounds bad.’

  I wonder what he’s doing now?

  I laugh out loud as I picture Jake

  sitting at the cave entrance,

  his eyes searching the valley below,

  looking for the wolf.

  I’ll tell him as soon as I get back.

  The calm I felt when I saw the wolf;

  the power he gave me.

  Lucy: the plan

  As I enter the swamp

  I see a boot print

  and I know it’s his –

  the weight,

  the markings.

  He’s looking for me,

  carrying a torch

  and all that hatred.

  The print is heading home

  and I can imagine him now

  sitting under the tree

  ignoring Peter and Mum,

  knowing I’ve got to come back

  sooner or later;

  waiting for his chance.

  I don’t care what happens

  when I get home.

  I mean it.

  Dad can hit me again.

  He can try.

  Only this time I won’t run.

  I won’t put my hands up.

  I’ll stand straight,

  just out of his reach.

  Even though my legs

  will be shaking

  and my insides churning,

  I won’t move.

  I’ll keep my eyes fixed on Mum

  and see what she does.

  I don’t care anymore.

  What Jake and I got.

  That can’t be touched;

  it can’t be broken.

  My father can bash me

  all he likes,
r />   but I know now,

  he can’t touch me.

  I’m unbreakable.

  I’m strong.

  Stronger than any fist.

  Lucy: not alone

  Maybe that’s my dad’s problem.

  That’s why he’s always angry;

  why he hits before he thinks.

  Because he doesn’t believe.

  Because he’s got nothing to hold onto,

  deep down,

  nothing that makes him a man.

  What must it be like

  to be so alone,

  so unloved.

  No,

  I’m not feeling sorry for him.

  I’m not that forgiving.

  But I know that

  I’ve got Jake

  and the cave

  and the wild dog –

  the wolf –

  whatever it is.

  And my dad,

  he’s got nothing.

  Lucy: Jake’s dad

  Jake’s dad!

  He’s walking along the track

  beside the creek,

  leading a horse;

  his head down,

  looking for tracks.

  He kneels

  and touches the ground

  like he’s trying to feel for his son.

  I’m about to call his name

  when he looks up.

  His hand goes straight to his heart

  as if to stop it leaping out of his chest.

  I start running.

  I don’t want to look worried,

  or in a panic,

  but I run so I reach him quickly

  and when I get there

  I see the suspicion on his face.

  I’ve done something bad to his son;

  I’m a Harding.

  ‘He’s okay, Mr Jackson,’ I say.

  ‘Just a sprained ankle.

  We stayed in a cave last night.

  I came to get help.’

  He listens to the story

  of Jake slipping on the rock

  and how instead of walking home on the ankle

  and making it worse,

  we decided to find shelter

  and get help in the morning.

  He nods and asks,

  ‘How are you, Lucy?’

  No one has ever asked about me.

  I don’t know how to answer

  or how to trust anyone’s questions.

  I say,

  ‘Let’s go get Jake.’

  Lucy: how happy

  Jake’s dad doesn’t say much

  as we head to Sheldon Mountain.

  He asks me

  if I’d like to ride the horse,

  to rest,

  but I say,

  ‘No, I don’t want to be a burden.’

  He looks at me.

  ‘Burden?’

  Then he seems to lose track

  of what he wanted to say.

  I’m relieved.

  I just want to find Jake

  and get this over with.

  The sun is high

  when we reach the bottom of the mountain.

  Mr Jackson ties the horse’s reins

  to an old gum tree

  and loads his pack

  with food and water

  for the climb.

  As we set off over the rocks

  I think of Jake,

  sitting, waiting,

  and how happy he’ll be

  when he sees his dad.

  How happy he’ll be.

  Peter

  Mum, you gotta come,

  quick.

  Dad’s gone.

  And so is the car.

  Has he gone looking for Lucy?

  But why would he take the car?

  He won’t get far over the paddocks in that.

  Why didn’t he take the bike?

  Why didn’t he wait for me?

  The dogs, Mum,

  they’re still chained up.

  They’ll find Lucy.

  It don’t make sense, Mum.

  And I checked too,

  Dad’s gun is still there.

  He don’t go anywhere without his gun.

  I reckon it would be handy.

  He could fire off a shot

  and Lucy would hear it miles away,

  don’t you reckon?

  So why no gun?

  And the car?

  Where’s he gone, Mum?

  I want to find Lucy.

  I want to find Dad.

  Lucy: hungry

  We reach Jake

  soon after midday.

  Yes, he’s sitting on the rock,

  his foot resting on the pack.

  When he sees his dad

  he scrambles to his feet

  and stumbles into his father’s arms.

  I hang back near the cave

  and watch them

  with their eyes closed,

  hugging.

  They stay like that for a long time

  and it’s like they’re fixing something

  that almost got broke.

  You know what I mean?

  They’re saying stuff without a word

  and so I keep real quiet.

  When they stop,

  Jake limps over

  and puts his arms around me.

  He says ‘thanks’,

  even though he doesn’t need to.

  He kisses me

  right there in front of his dad

  and all Mr Jackson says is,

  ‘You must both be hungry.

  Let’s eat.’

  Lucy: ghosts

  I finish my sandwich

  and drink some water.

  Jake and his dad are close together,

  on the rock.

  I can’t wait any longer.

  ‘I saw the wolf.’

  His father slowly grins

  and I’m sure he wants to say,

  ‘I knew it. I knew it.’

  ‘It was in the forest this morning.

  He was right in front of me

  and everything was quiet and still,

  like a dream.

  Can you believe it?

  Just me and him!

  I don’t know if it was a wolf

  or a wild dog.

  He was in the long grass,

  but he was big.

  When he moved away,

  he was silent,

  like a ghost.’

  My voice trails off

  as I look into the forest below

  where the wolf lives,

  and prowls.

  I saw what I saw;

  they can believe me

  or not.

  Jake’s dad rubs his forehead,

  lost in thought.

  Jake says,

  ‘He’s our wolf, Dad.’

  Lucy: Jake’s Dad

  Jake’s dad starts packing,

  giving himself time to gather his thoughts.

  ‘I believe in the wolf, Lucy.

  I have since that day

  beside Wolli Creek.’

  He scratches a stick into the ground.

  ‘But when Jake didn’t come home last night,

  I knew deep in my bones

  he was out here,

  somewhere in the forest,

  looking for the wolf.’

  He draws a cross

  with the stick,

  over and over,

  unaware he’s doing it.

  ‘I felt sick, Jake.

  I’d put you at risk,

  because of my obsession.’

  He stands and tosses the stick

  over the ledge.

  ‘Who cares if it’s a wolf,

  a feral dog,

  a dingo-cross,

  a huge fox

  or, yes, even a ghost!

  Who cares?

  The bloody thing eats my sheep

  and howls at night.

  That’s enough to know.<
br />
  I’m sorry, Jake.

  So sorry.

  I didn’t mean for you

  to go looking for my wolf.’

  Jake: what matters

  Maybe I came here to prove Dad wrong.

  If all we found was a wild dog,

  I could tell Dad he was mistaken.

  If there really was a wolf,

  well,

  it would become my wolf.

  Because I saw him,

  I found him.

  ‘No, Dad. I had to come.

  I wanted to find what was out here.’

  I hold out my hand

  for Lucy to help me up.

  I’m just like Dad.

  I want to be right,

  all the time.

  Lucy looks from me to Dad

  and says,

  ‘What you believe in, Mr Jackson,

  that‘s all there is.’

  Dad nods, smiles

  and reaches for my hand,

  to help me down the track.

  It’s time to leave

  Sheldon Mountain.

  Jake: Wolli Creek

  On the slow walk to Wolli Creek,

  Dad and Lucy swap stories,

  going into every detail of their sightings,

  and I realise that, from now on,

  there is no escaping the wolf.

  We sit beside the stream

  in the late afternoon sunshine.

  My ankle throbs

  with the pain

  of the scramble down

  Sheldon Mountain

  to Charlie.

  We’re nearly home.

  Lucy is holding a shiny rock

  in her hands, turning it over and over,

  and looking out across the creek

  to her farmhouse.

  ‘You can come home with us, Lucy,’

  I say.

  ‘If you want, I’ll go with you tomorrow,

  to your place.’

  Lucy tosses the rock

  into the water,

  watching the ripples

  slowly spread.

  ‘Thanks, Jake.

  I’ll be all right.

  If I stay away too long,

  Peter will have no one to annoy.’