The Audrey of the Outback Collection by Christine Harris

the darkness, Audrey felt her way along the side of the iron bed. It wasn’t that special having electricity if you couldn’t use it. There was a candle and matches on a small table, but only in case Audrey or Douglas needed to visit the dunny out the back of the house.
    Audrey’s cousin, Jimmy, reckoned some people in big cities poured water down their dunnies. But Mrs Paterson had a long-drop, the same as the Barlows had at home. The seat was smoother wood, but underneath it was still only a hole in the ground. Although Mrs Paterson’s dunny did have little squares of newspaper on a hook. You could sit in there and read the words.
    Carefully, Audrey raised the bedroom window. She shivered as the cold night air seeped in.
    Audrey scrunched down on her knees and whispered, ‘Stumpy! Come here.’
    A breeze stirred the leaves. Something rattled. There was no moonlight, so she couldn’t see Stumpy. But she heard his footsteps, followed by his breathing.
    She listened to what he had to say, then replied, ‘I don’t like it here. Mrs Paterson makes me think of dried plums …’
    Audrey’s eyes widened as she heard rustling, then shuffling footsteps down the hallway. A light flickered along the wall opposite the door. Shadows twisted like eerie fingers. Then came tapping on the wall.
    Ghosts wandered in old houses like this when they were bored with graveyards. Audrey’s heart raced.
    ‘Cooee,’ she heard, as soft as a sigh.
    Her shoulders slumped with relief. She’d recognise that cooee anywhere.
    Dad tiptoed into the room, holding a candle. He put one finger to his lips, then quietly closed the door. ‘I guessed you were still awake, Two-Bob.’
    She pushed the window down. It squealed on its sash. ‘I think things, even when I don’t want to, and it keeps me awake.’
    ‘Hop into bed.’
    ‘Colder than a polar bear’s behind, isn’t it, Dad?’
    His lips twitched. ‘Something like that.’
    Dad placed the candle on the bedside table and looked down at Douglas. ‘He’s certainly the champion snorer of the Barlow family.’
    Audrey climbed into bed and Dad pulled the heavy grey blankets up to her chin. He hunkered down on the floor, his face close to Audrey’s. Shadows blackened his eye sockets.
    ‘Dad, do you believe in ghosts?’
    ‘Only the ones in our heads.’
    Audrey gasped. ‘Ghosts can live in people’s heads? Is that because they don’t have any themselves?’
    ‘I mean that our memories, the things we think about, can sometimes haunt us.’
    Audrey nodded. She didn’t quite understand, but she wanted Dad to think she did. ‘Do you reckon ghosts can see Stumpy?’
    Dad shrugged. ‘I came to say goodbye, Two-Bob. Price and I are leaving before the sun comes up.’
    ‘Can’t Mum and Douglas and me come with you? I’ve never been dogging.’
    ‘Mum needs a rest. She’s very tired. And I have to work. No dingoes—no money.’
    Audrey thought about her mum’s strained face during the trip from up north.
    But staying in this house for a whole month seemed impossible. ‘Mrs Paterson doesn’t like me.’
    ‘She doesn’t know you. When she does, she’ll like you. Just as everyone else does.’
    ‘But I said maggots at the table. I don’t think Mrs Paterson says maggots at the table.’
    ‘You won’t do it again, will you?’
    ‘But there are lots of words. What if there’s another one I say by mistake? Mrs Paterson’s mouth will do this.’ Audrey pouted, her lips forming a knot of wrinkles.
    Dad cleared his throat. ‘She’s not used to children, that’s all. We don’t have the money to stay at the hotel, and Mrs Paterson volunteered to take you in. Remember, there’s a good side to everyone, Two-Bob.’
    ‘All right,’ said Audrey. ‘I’ll stay and look after Mum. I’ll even remind her to clean her teeth.’
    ‘You might not need to go that far.’ Dad’s eyes twinkled in the candlelight. ‘There are other children to play with in town. And it’s only for a