Part 7 (2/2)

That night, there were no monsters in my dreams. There was no darkness. There was me, alone, in a sun-dappled grove, in the middle of a forest.

I was on a bushwalk. By myself. But I was not scared.

In the corner of my vision I sensed movement, then heard a small twig break. My breath quickened, but I stilled myself. I did not want to appear as though I had seen or heard.

Then, at my ear, a warm breath. 'What are you doing out here all alone, little girl?' came a whisper. My face broke into a smile, and I let him run his fingers gently down my neck, down my shoulders. I let him slide his arms around my waist.

'I love you,' he whispered as reality pulled me, dragging my heels, to wake.

'The Female Factory at the Cascades operated between 1828 and 1856,' said Mr Beagle, reading from his notes. 'The site of the factory was originally a rum distillery, run by a company called ”Lowe's”. The colonial government bought the distillery in 1827. Builders under the direction of an architect called John Lee Archer extended the buildings that were already there in order to make enough s.p.a.ce for the ever-increasing numbers of female convicts imprisoned in Tasmania. At its fullest, the Factory housed twelve hundred women, who were engaged ...'

'And children,' I whispered. The words just slipped out of my mouth. I didn't know where they came from, and I did not call for them to emerge. They just did.

'Sorry, what was that, Tessa?' asked Mr Beagle, looking up from his papers. I jumped in surprise. I thought I had whispered very quietly; so quietly n.o.body would have been able to hear me. But Mr Beagle had.

'I ... I said ”and children”, Mr Beagle,' I replied. I wriggled in my seat uncomfortably. I could feel the eyes of my cla.s.smates burning into my back and sides. 'There were children at the Factory too, weren't there?'

Even though I made it into a question, I knew it to be true.

I didn't know how I knew, though.

And I didn't know why it suddenly seemed so important to say it, and to have Mr Beagle verify it. It just was.

Mr Beagle nodded slowly. 'Well, yes, there were, Tessa. Children often stayed with their mothers, though most of them were sent away to orphanages and boarding schools. Well done.'

He began to read from his notes again, and the words washed over me. I didn't hear any of them. I could still feel everybody staring at me.

I knew they talked of me. I knew Charlotte and her friends were spreading rumours about me. Rumours that I had been in an asylum before I came to school. Rumours that I was mad and dangerous. I had only been at Cascade Falls a handful of days, yet already people were beginning to think me strange.

And I was beginning to agree with them.

In the shower that morning, as I scrubbed at my back with my flannel wash-cloth, and the soap that smelled of lemon peel and roses, I noticed that my scars seemed to have raised and hardened.

Before, they had been flat to my skin, but now they made ridges down my back, like tree roots pus.h.i.+ng up through the dirt. The feeling made me gasp, and my eyes p.r.i.c.kled with tears. It felt as though my body was rebelling against me. First, the 'period', and now this.

Even though the rooms of Cascade Falls seemed to swelter with an excess of heating, I put on both my uniform s.h.i.+rt and my thick woollen blazer. I was scared that my scars might be seen if I wore only my s.h.i.+rt.

I wanted to call and tell you, Connolly. It felt like you were the only person I could could tell. But it was nearly breakfast time, and Rhiannah was expecting me. Today she was introducing me to 'muesli'. tell. But it was nearly breakfast time, and Rhiannah was expecting me. Today she was introducing me to 'muesli'.

And besides, I knew you were busy. I knew you had bigger worries than some misbehaving scars. Even if you did say to call any time. I would wait. I would wait until I had bigger news before I bothered you.

As I sat in Mr Beagle's history cla.s.s, not listening as he droned on about convicts and was.h.i.+ng rooms and George Arthur and The Rules and Regulations for the Management of the House of Correction for Females The Rules and Regulations for the Management of the House of Correction for Females (all subjects about which I felt I had heard many times before probably in other history cla.s.ses before my accident), all I could think about was how hot I was in my itchy jacket and how my scars must look beneath it. I wondered if they were growing still, or if they had shrunk back down again. (all subjects about which I felt I had heard many times before probably in other history cla.s.ses before my accident), all I could think about was how hot I was in my itchy jacket and how my scars must look beneath it. I wondered if they were growing still, or if they had shrunk back down again.

Perhaps it was only the hot water that had irritated them, or the lemon peel soap.

Then Mr Beagle said something that made my brain snap to attention. I don't know which word it was that dragged me back from the depths of my mind and into the history cla.s.sroom.

Perhaps it was the date, '1851', or maybe the name, 'Sir Edward Cha.s.sebury'. Or maybe it was the last word he said, the word that I understood and yet did not; the word I felt I had heard before and yet sounded like a foreign language.

'Ipecacuanha'.

I opened my mouth to ask him, 'What is that, Mr Beagle? What is ipecacuanha?'

The bell rang out, loud and jarring, from the black box on the wall. It made me jump, and I felt Rhiannah's hand rush to my arm.

'You okay?' she whispered.

I nodded, though my heart felt as if it would beat its way out of my chest.

At the front of the cla.s.sroom, Mr Beagle said, 'Well, that's enough for today, girls. Tomorrow, we will be talking about the founding of The Mercury The Mercury newspaper.' newspaper.'

When we got out of the cla.s.sroom, Rhiannah grabbed my hand and said, 'You look really shaken up, Tessa. Are you sure you're okay?'

A loud voice interrupted us. 'Yo, Rin!' echoed down the hallway.

I turned around to see Harriet sprinting towards us, tall and lithe and speedy as a brumby horse. The sun that streamed through the stained gla.s.s windows bounced off the gilded streaks in her hair.

Sara followed, pus.h.i.+ng her gla.s.ses up her nose with her finger.

'You ready for tonight?' asked Harriet, punching Rhiannah on the arm. 'You're not too freaked out, freaked out, are you? I mean after what Perrin ' are you? I mean after what Perrin '

Behind her, Sara hissed the shortest sentence I had ever heard spring from her lips. 'Harriet ... not now ... Tessa!'

I looked quickly at Rhiannah, who was already staring back at me, her face paler than ever. 'I told them you wanted to come,' she said, her voice smooth, contrasting with her nervous dark eyes. 'I told them I said that it would be too dangerous. Right, Harry?'

Harriet nodded quickly. 'Yeah, sorry, Tess. It's just, night-time walks can be pretty full on.'

'Was it a night-time walk when Cat went missing?' I asked.

Harriet's eyes widened. Behind her, I heard Sara make a little gasping-choking noise.

'You told her about that?' asked Harriet.

Rhiannah shrugged. 'I thought I should. She would have found out anyway, and I thought it was probably better to hear it from me. Besides, she knows Cat's mum, so ...'

'So, was it?' I asked again. 'Was it one of the dangerous night-time walks? Was that why Cat went missing?'

Rhiannah shook her head. 'No, Tess. It wasn't. Cat went on a night-time walk the week before, but the day she went missing, it was just an ordinary day walk. A pretty cruisy one. And it was a big group one. Everybody was there. It was part of our a.s.sessment for PE, so everybody had to come. Even Charlotte and her royal court made an appearance. They hated every minute of it, but they came, and they coped. Just.'

'Do you remember how Amy got her stupid knee-high boot heel stuck in the mud?' asked Harriet, giggling.

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