Poppy Comes Home Read online

  The crowd had warmed up by now. She heard gasps of awe and a few comments:‘ … imagine that, a real Indian princess … she’s so pretty … poor thing, caught by pirates …’

  Professor Cutpurse continued his spiel. ‘ … never before seen in the Colony of Victoria. But before that, let me introduce Pantaloon and Harlequin, famous jugglers and acrobats from the court of King Louis at Versailles.’

  Raven and Fox rushed onto the stage, one somersaulting, the other leap-frogging over him. Then both leapt to their feet, standing tall with arms outstretched. But they only stood still for a second, before backing away from each other. Then Fox squatted low, cupping his hands in front of him, while Raven ran forward, put one foot in Fox’s hands, then vaulted up and over, flipping in the air. The crowd cheered uproariously.

  Professor Cutpurse took centre stage again, while Fox and Raven backed away, bowing. The professor carried a stand, on which sat something covered with a purple satin cloth. He set the stand down, then turned to the crowd.

  ‘Let me not hold you in suspense any longer,’ he cried. ‘I have here one of the wonders of nature, a remedy so miraculous that I have yet to find any ailment it is incapable of curin’. Gallstones, gout and urinary gravel, chancre sores, croup and cholera, headaches, heartburn or halitosis! All of them fade away like snow in a furnace when you take Cutpurse’s Cure-all!’

  He lifted the purple satin cover with a flourish, and on the stand was one of the brown bottles that Poppy had seen him filling with medicine that morning.

  ‘Unfortunately, ladies and gentlemen, we have a very limited supply of this incredible elixir. Only the first few buyers will be able to obtain their own bottles. Step up now and be one of the lucky few.’

  Raven and Fox carried a few bottles each in small baskets and stood at the foot of the stage. They were soon swamped with buyers.

  This was Poppy’s cue. She stepped to the front of the stage, and began to sing The Bellbird Song using nonsense words. She was enjoying her performance, then suddenly there was a flurry of hands deep within the crowd, as if the audience were trying to push something away. Poppy saw a flash of a dirty cloth dress as a little girl fled from the crowd. Poppy didn’t see her face, but could tell the girl was thin and dirty. She faltered, and her singing broke.

  There was an angry whispering in her ear. ‘What are you doin’? Keep up the singin’. Don’t let the crowd go cold on us.’ It was the Professor, on one of his trips from the back of the stage to the front, carrying more of the bottles.

  Poppy struggled to keep singing, but she couldn’t get the sight of the girl out of her mind.

  3

  The Betrayal

  THE next day, there were two more performances. After seeing how Professor Cutpurse fooled people into buying his potions, Poppy no longer wanted to be a part of the show. But she knew, too, that being up on the stage was the best place to watch out for Gus. If he was here in Beechworth, he would come and see the show for sure. And even though she was dressed as an Indian princess, when he heard the Bellbird Song, he would know that it was her.

  But there had been no sign of Gus, or of the girl she had seen the day before. Poppy hadn’t been able to get a close look at her. But there was something about the girl that looked familiar.

  Halfway through the last performance, as the Professor was carrying out the stand, preparing to introduce his elixir, there was a disturbance from the back of the crowd. Whispers mounted to excited shouts of, ‘Harry Power! Harry Power has been caught! They’re bringing him into town! Hurry!’

  And then everyone dashed off down the street, leaving Professor Cutpurse first surprised, then cursing. ‘That darn bushranger,’ he said. ‘Hope they hang him and be rid of scum like that once and for all.’

  ‘They won’t do anything like that, will they?’ Poppy asked, horrified. Poppy remembered the time she’d met Harry Power when she was on the road. Even though he was a bushranger, he had been kind to Poppy, sharing his meal with her and Fisher.

  But Professor Cutpurse didn’t reply. He was busy talking two elderly ladies into buying a bottle of elixir each.

  When they had gone, Professor Cutpurse looked grimly at the remaining twenty bottles sitting in the back of the wagon. Then he turned to Poppy. ‘You sure do make a fine Indian princess, boy, and a good voice, to boot. We’re headin’ out tonight, and I’d like to think you’re comin’ with us. I can give you one-fourth, um, I mean, one-eighth share in the takings, after expenses and subsidiaries.’

  Poppy didn’t know what subsidiaries were, but it didn’t matter. She realised she needed to leave the show and keep searching for Gus and she told the Professor.

  ‘Well, I’m right sad to hear that,’ he said. ‘You come around tonight to say goodbye. I’ll just keep your pay till then.’

  ‘Can’t you pay me now?’ she asked. ‘I want to see Harry Power.’

  ‘I have to count the money and sort out some accounts,’ Professor Cutpurse said. ‘It might take a while. You get along over to the Town Hall first. When you’ve seen him, come back and it will be all here, ready and waitin’ for you.’

  ‘All right. I will be back in an hour.’

  Poppy quickly changed into her own clothes and tied a rope around Fisher’s neck so that she wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. Then she had a better idea.

  ‘It’s such a big town, Fisher darling, and there are lots of people. I just want to be sure you’re safe. Don’t worry, I’ll be back very soon.’ She tied the end of Fisher’s rope to the wheel of the wagon.

  As she headed off, she heard Fisher whining. She turned and waved at him before walking away.

  The road leading to the Town Hall was thick with people. Poppy squeezed through until she was in the front. She wondered if Harry Power would recognise her. The thought filled her with anticipation. The murmuring grew louder as the crowd became agitated. People strained their necks to get a better look at the most famous bushranger around.

  ‘They caught him stealing horses this time,’ a man beside her said.

  ‘They won’t hang him, will they?’ Poppy asked, scared of what the answer might be. She wanted to tell all these people how Harry Power had fed her when she was starving and treated her with kindness.

  ‘Here he is!’ someone yelled.

  The excited chatter died suddenly. The rhythmic patter of horses’ hooves echoing off the buildings drew closer and closer. Then Poppy saw him.

  Harry Power sat on a bay horse escorted by four policemen. He was handcuffed, his clothes were dusty and his hair matted. And yet, she thought, how tall and proud he looked, as if he was the King of England.

  As Harry Power passed, Poppy took off her hat out of respect for her old friend. It must have been the movement that made him glance down, but suddenly his sharp blue eyes were looking straight at her.

  A smile came to his lips. ‘Well, hello there, young pup,’ he said. His voice sounded dry and hoarse as if he needed a drink of water.

  Before Poppy could think of anything to say, Harry Power and the policemen had gone up the carriageway of the Town Hall.

  The man standing beside her shot her a curious look. ‘Do you know him?’ he said. He had a round friendly face and was wearing a most unusual vest, patterned all over with birds.

  ‘He once shared a meal with me,’ she replied.

  ‘Well, you don’t say! I’ve never met anyone who’s eaten with a bushranger before! You could write a book about that.’

  ‘What’s going to happen to him, sir?’

  ‘More than likely he’ll be charged for Robbery Under Arms and sent to Pentridge Prison in Melbourne.’

  ‘All the way to Melbourne?’ she said.

  The man nodded and pulled a pocket watch attached to a long gold chain from his vest. ‘I best be going. Books don’t sell by themselves.’

  ‘You like books?’ Poppy said. ‘Charles Dickens is my favourite author.’

  ‘Mine too!’ the man said, his eyebrows lifting. He looked a
t her and smiled. ‘What’s your favourite book?’

  ‘Great Expectations,’ Poppy replied, ‘but I didn’t get time to finish it.’

  The man looked impressed.

  ‘Sir, do you think you can ever forget how to read? I haven’t read a book in such a long time.’

  The material on the man’s vest shimmered making the birds come alive. ‘Why of course not,’ he chuckled. ‘Reading is like walking. Once you learn, you never forget.’ He smiled at her. ‘You know, I could do with some help in my bookshop.’

  ‘You own a bookshop?’ said Poppy.

  The man nodded. ‘And I need a smart boy like you. Drop by some time. I’m in Camp Street, near the post office.’

  ‘Thanks. I will.’ Poppy smiled.

  The bookshop owner turned and strolled down the street, whistling.

  Poppy hurried back to Professor Cutpurse’s wagon. She had been gone almost an hour and was now feeling guilty about leaving Fisher alone.

  She approached the place she thought the wagon was, in the empty lot between two buildings. ‘Silly me,’ she said to herself. ‘I must have gone down the wrong street.’ She turned back and retraced her steps, starting from the Town Hall.

  Yes, there’s the hotel on the corner, she remembered that. And the small haberdashery with the broken awning. So this must be the right street. But where is Professor Cutpurse’s wagon? And where is Fisher?

  Then she saw the rope that had been tied around Fisher’s neck. It was lying on the ground near a bush. He wouldn’t have run away, she thought, a feeling of nausea rising inside her. She remembered how securely she had tied the knot to the wheel of the wagon. It couldn’t have come loose. It couldn’t have. Tears sprang to Poppy’s eyes.

  She picked up the rope. The end had been cut with a knife.

  Someone had stolen him!

  4

  Dog in the Moonlight

  ‘FISHER!’ Poppy screamed. ‘Fisher!’ She dashed out onto the main street, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Standing at the corner, outside the Gold Office, Poppy stopped people walking by. ‘Have you seen the travelling medicine show?’ she asked, words choking in her throat. ‘Have you seen a big grey dog about this tall? Please, you must have seen him.’

  Some people shooed her away, thinking she was a little beggar. Some said they had seen the show and had bought the elixir. But no, they had not noticed Professor Cutpurse’s wagon leaving town. Or seen a big grey dog.

  Dust stung Poppy’s eyes. She stood helplessly in the street, arms limp by her sides while the wind swirled and raged and blew through the town.

  In a pharmacy shop window, Poppy saw herself reflected in the glass. And there beside her was a huge empty space where her beautiful Fisher should have been. Why did I leave you behind? Poppy thought desperately. I’m so sorry, Fish. Please be all right.

  As evening fell, and with eyes swollen from crying, she found a wooden crate behind the bookshop to hide in. There she sat, shivering, hugging her knees to her chest. It had always been Fisher who kept her warm at night, who kept watch when she fell asleep. But now he had gone, and it was all her fault. She took out the Tear Jar, a tiny bottle that held her mother’s tears. She rubbed the smooth glass against her cheek. ‘Please, Napu, help me find Fisher.’

  In the middle of the night, Poppy woke suddenly. What was that?

  She sat up, wide-eyed, straining to hear. The wind had stopped. The sound of barking resonating through the still night filled her with excitement. Could that be Fisher’s bark? The one he uses when he’s anxious or scared? she thought.

  Grabbing her satchel, Poppy ran out onto the street. She stood still for a moment trying to locate where the barking was coming from. She followed the sounds to the lights of the Chinese camp up on the ridge. ‘Fisher, I’m coming,’ she whispered.

  Poppy ran down the street and across a narrow bridge that spanned Spring Creek. The camp was about a half an hour’s walk up to the ridge that overlooked Beechworth, and it was very dark. The barking had stopped, but Poppy rushed ahead. There was barely a moon in the sky, just a fingernail of light amongst the stars. Several times she fell, stumbling over rocks or running into bushes. And often she wandered off the track and had to retrace her steps.

  The flickering lights on the ridge grew ever closer, until she finally reached the top.

  The camp was a row of wooden shops on either side of a muddy road. It was deserted, too late for anyone to be up, and everything was quiet. Poppy stood for a moment, listening.

  A bird flew out of a bush, crying chi chi chi chi into the night. Then Poppy saw a fox silhouetted against the wall of one of the shops at the end of the street. It seemed to be holding something in its mouth.

  The animal turned to stare at her with yellow eyes glinting.

  For a moment Poppy wondered if she had imagined Fisher’s barking. She wanted him back so much her ears could be playing tricks on her. She clasped the Tear Jar in her hand for comfort.

  Then she heard the barking again. It was coming from the other side of the hill. Her heart raced as she took a winding track that led between small ramshackle houses.

  A pig grunted in a sty as she passed. A dog whined behind a fence.

  ‘Fish?’ She stood on tiptoes and peered over into the yard. There in the back corner near a shed was Fisher! It had to be him!

  ‘Fish, Fish, it’s me,’ Poppy called softly. ‘I’ve come to save you.’ Then she quickly climbed the fence and jumped down the other side. But to her surprise the dog began snarling.

  ‘Don’t be scared,’ she said. ‘Don’t you know me? Are you hurt?’

  Suddenly the dog charged, white fangs bared, snapping at her ferociously. He was within inches of Poppy’s legs when he was jolted to a halt. He had reached the end of his chain.

  Ice cold fear gripped Poppy. It wasn’t Fisher after all! The dog was huge, with a square face and wide powerful shoulders. Saliva dripped from his jaws. If the chain broke, he would be upon her in an instant.

  Hardly daring to breathe, and taking tiny steps, Poppy backed slowly away. ‘Easy boy, easy now,’ she said.

  As soon as she felt the fence at her back, she turned and scrambled over it, falling to the ground on the other side. The wind had been knocked out of her lungs, but she didn’t have time to recover. Before too long the door of the shack flew open. The next moment a man appeared on top of the fence above her. He held a lantern in one hand and a long stick in the other.

  Poppy jumped up and ran, the shouts of the Chinese man following her down the hill.

  5

  In the Lockup

  HUNGER pains cramped Poppy’s stomach and she shivered in the cold damp air. But the thought of food made her feel ill. Fisher was lost, she knew that now. Professor Cutpurse would be far away from Beechworth. All I can do is stay here and keep looking for Gus and pray that Fisher somehow escapes from where he is and finds me.

  As she passed the police station, she saw a wanted poster of Harry Power pinned to the noticeboard. She stopped to look at the drawing and thought of the bushranger locked in his cell, and of the kindness he had shown her. Feeling around in her pocket for some coins, she headed to the bakery.

  A little while later, Poppy was standing with a bag of warm currant buns outside the Town Hall.

  The wooden cell door was guarded by a policeman with a rifle slung over his shoulder. He was sitting on a barrel, his head slumped to one side, sleeping. Poppy was taking a chance approaching a policeman like this. But since leaving Tocumwal, she hadn’t seen another wanted poster of Gus. Still, she pulled her hat down a little lower just in case.

  She coughed first then said, ‘Excuse me, sir.’

  The policeman jerked awake and stood up to attention. Then when he saw Poppy he relaxed and sneered. ‘Well? What do you want?’

  ‘My mistress,’ Poppy said, putting on an innocent voice, ‘gave me food to give to Mr Power. It’s from the church.’

  ‘Put it down there,’ the po
liceman replied. ‘I’ll give it to him later.’

  ‘My mistress said I had to give it to him myself, sir.’

  The policeman sniggered. ‘She don’t trust me, eh? Well, give it over, then, so I can inspect it.’

  Poppy looked puzzled. ‘It’s just some currant buns.’

  Snatching the bag out of Poppy’s hand, the policeman began poking about in each bun with a rusty pocket knife. ‘Don’t want no knives or keys to help him escape, do we now?’ He grabbed one of the buns, took a bite and handed the rest back. ‘All right, you can go in now, but leave your satchel with me.’ He then unlocked the door and let Poppy in.

  There was a corridor with two cells off to one side. The place smelt of damp and rot. A large rat scurried under one of the cell doors.

  ‘Mr Power?’ Poppy said. ‘Mr Power, it’s me, Kal.’

  She heard rustling, and a face appeared in the small barred window.

  ‘Well, if it ain’t de young pup, hisself,’ Harry Power said, smiling.

  ‘I brought you something to eat, Mr Power,’ Poppy said. ‘The policeman poked about in the buns and took one, but they’re fresh bought this morning …’ She squeezed the bag through the bars.

  ‘Ye be a thoughtful lad, that ye be.’ Harry Power cocked his head to one side. ‘How ye been faring, boy?’ he said, stuffing a bun into his mouth.

  ‘What’s going to happen to you? They won’t hang you, will they, Mr Power?’

  ‘No … like as not I be sent to Pentridge an’ do a bit o’ time dere.’

  ‘It must be horrible to be in gaol,’ said Poppy, looking at the small dark cell with just a bare dirt floor to sleep on.

  ‘Ye git used to it. Dese here coppers can’t stop auld Harry. I’ll be out soon enough. Now tell me, lad, how ye be faring?’

  Poppy sighed. ‘Well … everything has gone wrong lately, Mr Power. I haven’t found my brother, who I’ve been looking for everywhere, and …’ Poppy choked back a sob, ‘a man called Professor Cutpurse stole my dog.’