The Tunnels of Tarcoola Read online

Andrea burst out laughing. David looked bewildered, then he laughed too.

  ‘Sorry. I mean it’s fifty years in the game. I started yesterday after school, and I got up early to play some more. I was up at six o’clock this morning.’

  ‘Were you? So was I. I had an assignment to finish. And you’d better not say anything,’ she added quickly, seeing the beginnings of an incredulous smile.

  David tapped some keys. Andrea looked around the room. A bed was faintly discernible under some clothes in a corner.

  ‘Funny,’ she mused. ‘I always thought your room would be really tidy.’

  ‘Well, I bet yours is messy.’

  ‘It is not. Not my half, anyway. It’s extremely well-organised. All six square metres of it.’

  They both stared at the screen.

  ‘How come you have the computer in your room?’ she asked idly.

  ‘Well . . . It’s my computer.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  Andrea began to wander around the room, picking things up and putting them down. She stopped in front on a photograph of David and Martin, clowning in ski gear, a snow-covered mountain in the background.

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Last year. Mr Mac took the whole class to the snow in third term. Martin went from beginners to advanced in one week, and I broke my leg.’

  ‘I really missed Martin when they put me in a different class in Year Six. I used to hang out with him all the time.’

  ‘Yeah, I miss him now,’ said David. ‘It kind of sucks, going to different high schools.’

  ‘It kind of sucks going to my high school,’ said Andrea.

  David tapped some keys.

  ‘It must be good, though, being with Marty,’ he said.

  ‘I hardly ever see him.’

  ‘Oh.’ He didn’t look up. ‘I thought he was – kind of – your boyfriend?’

  ‘I don’t know why people say that.’

  ‘What, isn’t he?’

  ‘Not that I know of. He’s never asked me.’

  ‘Does he have to ask you?’

  ‘Course he does.’ Why didn’t boys understand these things? ‘If he reckons we’re going out, he has to ask me.’

  David stopped typing. ‘So then you’ll be going out with him?’

  ‘Depends. I’d have to say yes.’

  ‘And what if someone else asks you?’

  Now he was teasing her. She jumped up. ‘What’s the time?’

  David looked at his watch. ‘Nearly four. I’ve got to turn on the oven.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s my turn to put the dinner on tonight. It’s one of my mum’s slow-cooked gourmet things.’

  ‘I do spaghetti,’ said Andrea. ‘That’s my specialty. You’d lo-o-ove my spaghetti.’

  ‘I bet I’d like it more than my mum’s gourmet stuff.’ He grinned at her.

  ‘Well – I’d better go.’ She picked up her bag.

  ‘Do you think it’s safe now?’ asked David.

  ‘I guess so. Maybe . . . is there a back lane?’

  ‘Yeah. Come on, I’ll show you.’

  They clattered downstairs into the tidy kitchen.

  ‘Wow,’ said Andrea. ‘Do your parents use all these gadgets?’

  ‘Sure,’ said David, looking around. ‘My grandfather, too. They’re always having dinner parties and stuff, even though my dad works, like, eighty hours a week.’

  He led her through the narrow garden. A furry white cat emerged from the bushes and wound itself around Andrea’s ankles.

  ‘He likes you,’ said David. ‘He usually hisses at visitors.’

  ‘Well, thanks,’ said Andrea, bending down to scratch behind the cat’s ears. ‘I mean – for letting me come in.’

  ‘Will you be okay now? Should I come with you?’

  ‘No, I know a back way from here. They’ll never find me.’

  David hesitated. He looked as though he was about to say something else, but whatever it was, the moment passed.

  ‘See you, then.’ He held open the gate and Andrea slipped out into the gathering shadows.

  MARTIN skidded in the mud and went down on one knee. As he leapt to his feet the ball flew out of the pack towards him. ‘Marty! It’s yours!’ He twisted around and kicked in one action. It was an awkward angle and he had to use his left foot, but the ball flew straight and true, and the goalie jumped the wrong way. Cheers erupted around the ground. Martin ran over and punched the boundary marker like his hero Tim Cahill. Team-mates raced up to clap him on the back.

  A few minutes later, the final whistle blew. Martin was wet, muddy and sore from various encounters with the slippery ground, but the coach shook his hand, saying ‘Well done, mate,’ and his father was grinning proudly on the sidelines.

  Martin stripped off his soccer jersey and threw it on the pile, then sauntered over to his father’s car to get his jumper. Someone was leaning against a sleek black Mercedes, watching him. Martin caught her eye, then quickly looked away. Samantha Buckingham’s long blonde hair was like spun gold, her expensive clothes always immaculate. She had been in his class at primary school for a while, but left after Year Four to start at a private school a few suburbs away, and he rarely saw her these days. Usually she looked straight through him.

  ‘Hi, Martin!’ She had come very close. The jumper was halfway over his head, and he was aware of his sweaty body.

  ‘Great game,’ Samantha went on.

  ‘Yeah, pretty good.’ Martin had got his head free now. ‘Wasn’t enough to get us into the finals, though.’

  ‘Better luck next year.’ Samantha’s voice was smooth, almost caressing. Martin was torn between wishing she would go away before he made a fool of himself, and wanting to make her stay. He searched for something to say.

  ‘You interested in soccer?’

  ‘Sure.’ She smiled winningly. ‘My dad’s just talking to the coach.’ She inclined her head. Martin saw a balding man in a suit talking to Ted Wallace. A plump fair boy hovered next to them, fiddling with an iPhone.

  ‘Oliver wants to play in the under twelves next year,’ Samantha explained. ‘He didn’t get selected this season, so my dad’s making a donation to the club.’

  ‘Oh.’ Martin couldn’t see the logic, but it didn’t matter. A number of his team-mates were looking his way. Just a few months ago Martin would have died of embarrassment at being seen talking to a girl, but right now he was feeling good, having scored the team’s only goal for the match, and Samantha was very pretty.

  ‘How’s school?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘Oh – all right. I’m doing Chinese.’ This always impressed his parents’ friends.

  ‘Really? We do French, Latin and Japanese.’ Samantha examined her fingernails, which were painted pale pink. ‘We’ve got our first formal at the end of this term.’

  ‘Yeah?’ What was a formal? Martin wondered. Some sort of exam?

  ‘I’m having a dress made. There was nothing but rubbish in the shops.’

  ‘Oh! Cool.’

  ‘The trouble is’ – she frowned a little – ‘I need a partner. I can’t take my brother.’ She shot a contemptuous glance at the offending Oliver, who was trying out different ringtones while his father earbashed Ted. ‘He’s too short.’

  Samantha herself was on the small side, Martin reflected. She came about up to his eyebrows.

  ‘So would you be interested?’ Samantha went on.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ she added hastily. To Martin’s amazement her face had turned a delicate pink. Was the princess actually blushing?

  ‘Oh! No, I’d . . . But I’ve never been to . . . that sort of thing.’

  ‘You’d have to wear a suit. Maybe you could hire one,’ she added helpfully.

  ‘Well, um . . . I’ll find out. I could ask my parents.’

  ‘Fabulous.’ She gave him a dazzling smile. ‘It’s not for about three weeks. Wanna give me your number?’

  She was making the uni
versal phone sign with finger and thumb. Martin groaned inwardly.

  ‘Oh, I’m . . . uh . . . between phones at the moment.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find you on Facebook. Send you the details.’ She reached up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Sure.’ Still dazzled, Martin watched her walk away.

  ‘That Harold Buckingham!’ snorted Martin’s father in the car going home. ‘He thinks he can buy anything he wants.’

  ‘They’re really rich, aren’t they?’ said Martin.

  ‘Oh, sure. But all he thinks about is making more money. And spoiling his kids.’ Martin’s father gave him a shrewd look. ‘Did I see you chatting up his daughter?’

  ‘No! I mean – she was chatting me up.’

  His father chuckled. ‘You kids get it easy. In my day the boys had to do all the work.’

  Martin decided not to mention Samantha’s invitation. He wanted some time to think about it. The thought of wearing a suit and doing all those dances the teachers had made them learn in Year Six made him quail. But then, if news got around that he was escorting Samantha Buckingham, that of all the boys around she had chosen him . . . It was amazing what scoring a goal in soccer could bring you!

  CLEANED up, fed and still feeling good, Martin jogged through the newly washed back streets to David’s house. The sun had struggled through the last of the clouds, and dogs were out sniffing the footpaths.

  David was engrossed in his computer screen.

  ‘Eureka!’ he said. ‘Hi.’

  ‘What’s happening?’ Martin peered over his shoulder.

  ‘My city’s now entering the year 2075, and I’ve doubled the population over the last ten years. Hong and Michael only got to 2050, then they had a nuclear plant explosion and got wiped out. I told them they shouldn’t mine uranium!’ David punched the keys gleefully. ‘Sucked in, Hong!’

  ‘Sounds good,’ said Martin, flopping down on the bed. ‘I bring you a mini Mars Bar, o lord of the city.’ He dug it out of his pocket.

  ‘I graciously accept.’ David turned around in his chair and put a hand out. ‘How was soccer?’

  ‘Not too bad. I got a goal.’

  ‘Only one?’

  ‘Well, you know how it is. I didn’t want to take too much glory on myself.’ Martin watched David eat the Mars Bar, his eyes wandering occasionally back to the screen. ‘Are you going to keep playing that, or what?’

  ‘Nah, I’ll save it.’ David’s fingers flew over the keys. ‘Did Andrea tell you about the bomb shelter? D’you want to have a look?’

  ‘Sure.’ Martin jumped to his feet. ‘Kitty’s coming too. She said she’d meet us in the garden.’

  ‘Right.’ David zipped through a sequence of coloured screens until the last one was finally sucked into oblivion. He turned to Martin.

  ‘There’s a big meeting in the Town Hall on Monday night, about the development. I might go.’

  ‘You said they were really boring!’

  ‘Well, they are. But they’re going to wreck the Haunted House. I’d like to find out what people are doing to stop it. Do you want to come?’

  ‘I just might have a lot of homework that night.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  When they reached Tarcoola, Kitty and Andrea were waiting impatiently beside the lily pond.

  ‘We’ve eaten all the—’ started Kitty, but Martin had wrestled her to the ground and got her backpack open before she could manage another word, and they were soon demolishing chocolate-chip muffins.

  Martin brushed the crumbs off his hands and reached into his own backpack.

  ‘Wanna see my map?’ He untied the red ribbon and unrolled it a little shyly.

  ‘Hey, Martin, that’s really beautiful!’ Andrea was obviously surprised.

  He had certainly spent a lot of time on it, working with watercolour paints and ink, using subtle colour distinctions to show the areas they had explored and the areas that were still unknown. He had put in faint trails showing where he thought some of the tunnels might lead, and several ‘Here be monsters’ images.

  ‘So you think there are tunnels under our feet right now?’ mused David.

  ‘Makes sense, don’t you think? Remember the tunnel we couldn’t get through, the first day, when we ended up under the house? It was heading this way.’

  ‘But you’ve suggested a whole network,’ said Kitty, frowning at the map.

  ‘Yeah, well, there’s a mixture of natural tunnels and man-made tunnels. I’m sort of wondering if some of them join up.’ Martin mentally hugged himself as he considered the map-making possibilities.

  ‘Should we explore the house first?’ said Kitty. ‘It might have sliding panels and hidden staircases and all that kind of stuff.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Andrea. ‘I had a good look round the other day, and it’s pretty bare.’

  ‘Yeah, I really want to get back into those tunnels,’ said Martin. ‘I’ve just got a feeling there should be a nice exit somewhere here in the garden, through a maze or something.’

  ‘Not too many mazes in this garden,’ observed David.

  ‘Still . . . My map is telling me there’s something missing. I say we check out that tunnel with the fallen rocks.’

  ‘But this is silly,’ said Kitty impatiently. ‘Andrea and I didn’t come here to draw a map and run around finding secret exits. We’ve got to find Miss Gordon’s thing, her special present.’

  ‘Huh?’ said Martin.

  ‘Didn’t we decide that some of what Miss Gordon says—’ Andrea started.

  ‘Forget all that,’ interrupted David, ‘I say we should—’

  ‘Stop!’ cried Kitty. ‘You’re not listening! There’s something hidden in there, and it’s really, really important!’

  There was a brief silence.

  ‘What sort of something?’ asked David.

  ‘Well, maybe . . . like . . . some kind of treasure?’

  ‘Kitty, I don’t really think . . . ’

  ‘Listen, every time I’ve talked to Clarissa – Miss Gordon – she’s been all worried about something that Mr Woolf gave her, this present thing. No, listen!’ This was to Martin, who was packing his map away, eager to be off. ‘She’s been keeping it hidden all this time. If they demolish the house we won’t be able to find it. It’ll be lost for ever!’

  ‘But you don’t even know what it is, Kitty,’ said Andrea.

  ‘No, but I’m sure it’s something really, really valuable. And if we find it for her she won’t be poor and maybe . . . maybe she could buy the house back? It could be, like, a fabulous diamond necklace . . . or . . . or something?’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ began Martin, but Andrea silenced him with a look.

  ‘And anyway,’ said Kitty. ‘There’s this really scary man she calls the wolf boy and he wants it too. So it’s not just her.’ She was close to tears.

  ‘Okay,’ said David patiently. ‘Well, we want to explore anyway, so let’s just keep a look out for it. How about that? There’s not much else we can do, because we don’t know what it is, and we don’t know where it is.’

  ‘All right,’ muttered Kitty.

  ‘And we might as well go with Martin’s idea, too,’ David went on. ‘It would be great to find another exit so we can get into the tunnels without the risk of getting caught in the house.’

  Andrea put a supportive arm around Kitty as they made their way to the house. She led the way to the glass doors at the side of the house, which were still unlocked, and into the cellar. They went down the ladder, carefully closing the trapdoor behind them.

  ‘So let’s see this place with the gas masks and everything,’ said Kitty.

  They crowded into the bomb shelter. Kitty insisted on examining everything, while Martin searched for undiscovered doorways. David and Andrea hovered impatiently around the exit. Finally Martin was satisfied.

  ‘Okay, no way out here. Let’s go!’

  In the main shaft, Martin checked his map for accuracy.
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  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Four entrances. South is the bomb shelter, which we’ve just come out of. West is the door we originally came in through, with the twisty passage leading to the Doughnut. East is the other door with the missing key, and north is the big tunnel where the cathedral is, and David’s Leap.’

  ‘Oh, is that marked on the map?’ asked David, looking pleased. ‘I didn’t notice.’

  Andrea gave a little sniff.

  ‘Or maybe it could be Andrea’s Chasm?’ David offered.

  ‘Andrea’s Agony, more like,’ she said, sticking out a wiry leg in torn-off denim. The scratches were scabbed over, but the bruises had reached a spectacular multi-coloured stage.

  ‘Come on, let’s get going,’ said Martin. This time he had equipped himself with a working torch. He switched it on and plunged through the unlocked door into the west tunnel. At the fork in the tunnel they had found on the first day, he turned left, confident of finding the rock-fall that had stopped them from going any further.

  ‘Martin! Where are you?’ He could hear Kitty’s voice, wavering in the sour-smelling darkness.

  ‘Where do you think?’ he called back impatiently, pulling at the rocks that blocked his way.

  Within a few seconds the others joined him. David shone his torch beam around the walls.

  ‘If we just take them from the top, maybe we can go over?’ he suggested.

  ‘Give it a go,’ grunted Martin.

  They all worked quickly, moving and stacking the rocks until there was a space big enough to crawl through. On the other side, the tunnel stretched on into blackness.

  ‘Yes!’ said Martin, exchanging a high-five with David.

  For what seemed like hours they explored, going up one dead-end tunnel after another, lowering themselves through holes in the floor, clambering up through holes in the ceiling, scrambling out backwards when there wasn’t room to turn around. Martin showed them the right marks to make on the tunnel walls at every intersection, while he sketched a new section of the map.

  Kitty had had enough after ten minutes, and occupied herself by looking behind rocks and in small fissures in the walls, and any other likely hiding places for treasure.

  Then, miraculously, Martin found what he was looking for: a tunnel leading upwards with steps hewn into the rock.