Somewhere around the Corner Read Online Free Page B

the fireman. He was smiling, although his face was tired and even blacker than the night before, and his eyes red-rimmed. ‘Come on, home is just around the corner.’
    They clambered out. The fireman shoved a couple of sandwiches at them, thick white bread oozing jam. ‘They’re from Charlie. He’s not a bad sort really. He’s just like lots of people these days, he wants to hang on to what he’s got.’ The fireman looked at them a bit uncertainly, ‘You be all right from here?’
    ‘We’ll be right.’
    ‘Good luck to you then.’ He put out his horny hand and grabbed Young Jim’s and shook it. ‘You take care of your sister, too.’
    Then he was gone, swinging himself up into the cab of the engine. The train began to shuffle slowly forward, then picked up speed. They watched it until only its smoke was left above the trees.
    The road stretched before them, pale and dusty yellow.
    ‘How far did you say it was?’ whispered Barbara.
    ‘Fifty miles. Nothing to it.’ Young Jim grinned encouragingly. Barbara lifted her chin and tried togrin back. They crossed the railway lines and stepped onto the road.
    It was cool walking at first. The magpies carolled in the tall trees scattered along the road. A kookaburra chortled, lifting its beak to the sun.
    The day grew hotter. A car passed, silver-grey, leaving a cloud of choking dust. Young Jim looked after it. ‘Bunch of toffs. Flash cars never stop. I hope their tyres turn into maggots and eat their engine up for lunch. You thirsty?’
    ‘A bit.’
    ‘There’s a creek along a way. We might take a breather there, if you like.’
    It was cooler by the water. A pair of dragonflies darted through the reeds, bluer than the sky. Barbara looked at the creek doubtfully.
    ‘You sure it’s safe to drink?’
    ‘Of course it’s safe. Might taste a bit of cattle shush, but that won’t do us any harm.’ Young Jim bent down and scooped the water in his hand. The drips caught the light as they dribbled on his knee. Barbara knelt beside him. The water was warm, but sweet.
    ‘If we were cockatoos we could fly across country from here,’ said Young Jim, pointing. ‘See that hill over there? Poverty Gully drops right down from it.’
    ‘Why don’t we go that way then?’ asked Barbara, looking at the hot air shimmering above the road.
    ‘We’d get lost. The sun’d bleach our bones before they found us,’ said Young Jim cheerfully. ‘Just like the old-time explorers. You learn about them at school?’
    Barbara nodded. ‘Will you be going to school in Poverty Gully now?’ she asked.
    ‘There isn’t a school in the gully. Not for susso kids.’
    ‘But doesn’t everyone have to go to school?’
    Young Jim shrugged. ‘If there’s a school to go to. There’s a school in town. Take you a day or more to walk to it but. Kids who’ve got the money board in town. Come on, we’d better get moving again.’
    Another car passed, then a cart. Neither stopped. The sun slipped from the centre of the sky. Barbara’s feet hurt. The sausages and bread and jam had faded away, leaving her giddy from hunger and from heat. The dust seemed to fill her hair and eyes and mouth.
    ‘Want to rest again?’ Jim’s eyes were dark with concern.
    Barbara shook her head. What if it got dark? Would they have to sleep by the side of the road, away from everything?
    ‘I can keep going.’
    ‘Good girl. Look, I’ll try and flag down the next car. Maybe if they see me waving they’ll stop.’
    Another car growled slowly up the track behind them. Barbara turned to hail it. Young Jim pulled her back. ‘Not this one,’ he said softly. ‘We’d better let this one go.’
    It was a dark green car with silver trim, open at the top, with wide thin-rimmed wheels and green spokes. The man driving it wore a sharply creased grey hat. A woman in a wide-brimmed hat trailed scarves beside him. Three children sat in the back. The car seemed so slow compared to the speeds she was used to. Barbara