Poppy Comes Home Page 5

  Then she had an idea. Holding the shovel above her head by the handle she flung it up and sideways. She had to do it several times before the shovel caught. Now it was like a bar across the top of the hole. She held on to it while she swung up, catching her legs on the edge of the grave and pulling herself out.

  The moon had begun to rise between the trees. Poppy lay by the edge of the pit, breathing heavily. Maybe I should have just stayed there, she thought, and let the earth cover me. At least Gus and I would be together.

  She climbed to her feet, and in the darkness slowly picked her way along the path until she came to a row of short headstones that looked like grey teeth poking out of the ground. Bending down, she looked at one closely. Engraved on the stone were Chinese characters. She had come to the Chinese section of the cemetery.

  It didn’t take her long to find it. A grave-mound, showing clearly in the pale moonlight, stood a little way off. Holding her breath, she walked between the headstones and with her boot, nudged the earth. It was freshly dug.

  She stood looking down, her head bowed, eyes closed. In the grave, there you lie. Wait for me until I die.

  ‘How could you have gotten yourself killed, Moyhu?’ she said, anger and grief mixed into one. Her mind was a spiderweb of thoughts, all in a tangle. She knelt by the grave and lay her cheek against the cold earth. Then she began to cry, her tears wetting the soil.

  The tall eucalypts in the forest whispered, shhhh, shhhhh, shhhh. A mopoke called to its mate then glided silently to the ground. A cricket scurried for shelter under a cluster of dead leaves.

  The moon climbed high in the sky as Poppy lay on the grave, her face stained with dirt and tears.

  Then the words of the old mad woman rang in her ears: ‘Dig, dig.’

  She suddenly sat up and began to dig with her bare hands. The earth was harder than she expected. Then she heard a voice.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Poppy looked up, trembling.

  There stood a figure, pale and unclear in the deathly light.

  ‘Kalinya?’ the figure said.

  It sounded like Gus. Was it Gus’s ghost?! She stared. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But I had to know.’

  ‘Know what?’ the spectral shape replied.

  ‘If you were buried here. Oh, Gus, I’ve been looking for you for such a long time, and now to find you dead … it’s more than I can bear …’

  ‘Dead?’ The figure stood erect. ‘What are you babbling about? Don’t you know me? Can’t you see I’m Moyhu, your real flesh-and-blood brother?’

  Poppy gasped. ‘Gus! Is it you?’ She stepped forward, reaching out to touch him. ‘The Chinese actor told me you were dead. I thought … I thought I’d never see you again.’

  ‘I couldn’t get back to Bird Creek before your birthday like I promised,’ Gus said. ‘But I would have found you, Kalinya, wherever the old Matron sent you.’

  Poppy hugged Gus.

  Then, like a creek overflowing after the rains, the words poured out of her. Poppy had to tell Gus everything.

  She told him how she had run away and headed for Beechworth. And about meeting Fisher, and being caught in the dingo trap, which took her to Summerhill. She told him how she learnt to ride the wild-eyed Gideon and about Jimmy Ah Kew and the letter and the gold necklace. Gus threw his head back and laughed when she mentioned Lin Tian and the trouble he had got himself into. Lastly, she told him about the gold nugget in Grandfather Cod’s belly, and how they would have been rich but for Professor Cutpurse.

  Finally she grew tired and yawned. Then she had a thought, and asked, ‘But what about you, Gus? Did you find gold?’

  He smiled. ‘Something much more precious than gold, Kalinya.’

  Sleep overcoming her, Poppy asked, ‘What Gus? Tell me, quick.’ She yawned again, rocking back a little on her heels.

  Gus just smiled and put out his arms to steady her.

  ‘I have to lie down.’ Poppy could barely get the words out.

  ‘We can’t sleep here, in a graveyard,’ Gus said.

  ‘Why not? It’s like we’ve come back from the dead, isn’t it?’

  Gus looked towards the cemetery gates, then back at his sister. ‘All right. It’ll be morning soon, anyway. I’ll make a fire.’

  Before closing her eyes, Poppy felt Fisher licking her face. Sleepily she introduced him to Gus then fell back into the deep sweet dark.

  12

  Home

  POPPY opened her eyes and stretched. Where am I? she thought. Then she remembered and a thrill went through her.

  She sat up and smiled. Gus was playing with Fisher. He threw a stick amongst the headstones and Fisher chased after it. Her brother had grown so strong and tall, and he had a thick tousle of brown hair. How she loved him.

  This is how it should be, Poppy thought, stretching and feeling the sun warm on her face. What does it matter if we have a home? As long as we’re together, that’s where home is.

  Gus, as if feeling her gaze upon him, turned. ‘You’re awake,’ he called. ‘Fisher brought us a rabbit for breakfast. Pretty smart dog you have there.’ He came towards her, grinning. It was only then that Poppy’s nose started working and she could smell the aroma of meat roasting over a fire.

  Fisher bounded up to her, his tail wagging.

  ‘I said you’d like Gus, didn’t I?’ She smiled.

  Except for Fisher crunching through the bones, they ate in silence. But while she was chewing, two questions kept nagging her. The first one she had already asked, and Gus just kept smiling his smile and refusing to answer: what had he found that was more precious than gold? What could possibly be more precious than gold? she thought.

  The other was equally mysterious. Why had he come to the cemetery last night? How had he known she was there?

  When they were dampening down the fire, Poppy asked him about it.

  ‘It was Napu, Dangamai,’ Gus said.

  ‘Napu? But she’s been with me …’ Then she remembered all the times Dangamai, the crow, had flown away. She had gone in search of Gus.

  Gus flicked a lock of hair from his eyes. ‘These past weeks I’ve been with our people – Napu’s people,’ he said, looking at her intensely. ‘I learnt many things about the traditional ways.’

  ‘I was with them, too!’ Poppy said, surprised.

  ‘That was the purpose of our journey, Kalinya. Napu knew that it was our last chance. ’

  ‘Last chance for what?’

  ‘To show us knowledge of our people. Come on.’ Gus gently nudged her in the ribs. ‘I’m going to answer your question, Kalinya, you just need to be more patient and follow me. I have something I want to show you.’ He had that look in his eyes Poppy remembered well – the same look when he told her about the trapdoor in the Darkling Cellar – that look of excitement and secrets.

  Fisher trotted along the path towards the main entrance and through the gates.

  They had been talking and Poppy hadn’t realised that they were on a small rise and were now walking along a ridge. The sides dropped down steeply and there was a view in all directions.

  A wedge-tailed eagle soared overhead.

  A little further on, Gus suddenly veered off the main path and onto a tiny track that dropped down into a gully and wound between tall trees. He was walking fast, too fast for Poppy to keep up. Even Fisher had gone on ahead without her.

  Just then a shadow passed overhead. Poppy looked up and saw Dangamai. ‘Napu,’ she breathed. ‘You’ve come.’

  Dangamai flew off silently above the treetops and Poppy hurried forward. She pushed through the bracken ferns and saw Gus briefly at a distance. Fisher stopped, looked back at her, then bounded after him.

  When she finally caught up to them, Fisher was sitting by Gus’s side on a flat slab of rock.

  She slumped down, exhausted, and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Is this what you wanted to show me … this old rock?’ Poppy said, annoyed. ‘And you, Fish … I thought you were my dog
.’ She was breathing hard and her clothes were sticky with sweat. Fisher nuzzled her, but she pushed him away.

  ‘It’s not much further,’ Gus said.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘You’ll see soon enough.’ He grinned.

  They rested until Poppy had her breath back, then continued on.

  Half a mile later, they came to a clearing. Poppy looked through the trees.

  ‘This is it, Kalinya,’ Gus said.

  Poppy’s breath caught in her throat.

  There stood a hut, newly built, the wood still pale and raw. It was the most beautiful hut she had ever seen. One window was slightly ajar and smoke from the chimney curled up through the trees. Beside the front door was a stack of firewood and an axe lay propped against the wall as if someone had just chopped some wood. There was even the beginnings of a garden.

  ‘It’s not finished yet, Kalinya,’ Gus said, standing proudly. ‘We built it in a couple of days.’

  She looked at her brother, puzzled. ‘We?’

  ‘Father and me. Come.’ He took her hand.

  At that moment the front door opened and a man appeared in the doorway holding a small clay pipe. His long queue hung over one shoulder and he wore loose-fitting clothes. A smile brightened his face when he saw Poppy and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

  ‘Kalinya, my daughter,’ he said, and his voice broke.

  ‘I was standing outside a Chinese temple,’ Gus said. ‘And something just drew me inside. There was only one other person there, kneeling with his back to me, holding three smoking incense sticks high up above his head.’ Gus seemed to choke up, and looked to his father, who took up the story.

  ‘I feel door open behind me, and I know already. No need look around. I thank the gods, stand up, and there my son! Tall, strong, make me proud to see him.’

  They put their arms around each other and stood facing Poppy. She walked up, stretched out her arms, and the three embraced, heads together, rocking gently back and forth, side to side.

  More precious than gold, she thought.

  Finally her father pulled his head back and away. He smiled at them. ‘Come, Moyhu. Bring your sister inside and we have tea to celebrate.’

  Gus put his arm around Poppy and they walked into the hut.

  It was a large room with a smooth dirt floor. A pot sat on a stand over a fire in the fireplace and against the walls were three simple beds. In the centre of the room was a crate that had been cut down to form a table, around which sat four upturned half barrels.

  Poppy couldn’t stop smiling. Fisher went about sniffing every corner of the hut, then came up to her, wagging his tail in approval.

  Father patted Fisher on the head and the dog licked his hand in return.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ Gus asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s perfect!’ she answered. Then she sat down on one of the beds. ‘Everything is perfect …’

  ‘Moyhu say you like books, Kalinya,’ Father said. ‘I build bookshelf.’ He smiled as he poured honey-coloured tea into three bowls. ‘Chinese say, book hold a house of gold.’

  The scent of the tea filled the warm room.

  From a chest in the corner, Gus pulled out a leather satchel and gave it to her. ‘Father got this from Jimmy Ah Kew,’ he said.

  Jimmy Ah Kew? Of course, she thought, he and Father are friends. Poppy reached inside the satchel. There was a letter from Noni in her tiny neat handwriting, some Chinese coins from Lin Tian, an embroidered fan from Lai Lai. And from Tom, a wonderful pen-and-ink drawing of an echidna, a kangaroo and a flying lizard. Poppy smiled, tears filling her eyes as she thought of the Chinese dragon from the Book of Knowledge.

  She looked up and out through the small window. A range of blue mountains shimmered in the morning light. And there in the sky, soaring freely, was a beautiful black bird with feathers that glistened …

  Gus came and stood beside Poppy.

  ‘Dangamai,’ he whispered.

  Poppy looked at him and smiled.

  I am a fourth generation Chinese Australian and was born in Melbourne. My mother’s grandfather, Chen Ah Kew, came from China to the Victorian goldfields in 1853 when he was seventeen years old. The character of Jimmy Ah Kew that you met in Poppy and the Thief is based on him. My great grandmother’s name was Lum Gum. She was twenty when she arrived in Australia in 1885.

  My father was born in Shanghai, China, and met my mother when he was sent to Australia by the Chinese government during World War Two.

  The Poppy books could not have been written without the advice of Koorie elder, Uncle John Sandy Atkinson; Koorie Liaison officer at the State Library of Victoria, Maxine Briggs; and Koorie Heritage Trust Librarian Judy Williams.

  I was born and grew up in Italy, a beautiful country to visit, but also a difficult country to live in for new generations.

  In 2006, I packed my suitcase and I left Italy with the man I love. We bet on Australia. I didn’t know much about Australia before coming – I was just looking for new opportunities, I guess.

  And I liked it right from the beginning! Australian people are resourceful, open-minded and always with a smile on their faces. I think all Australians keep in their blood a bit of the pioneer heritage, regardless of their own birthplace.

  Here I began a new life and now I’m doing what I always dreamed of: I illustrate stories. Here is the place where I’d like to live and to raise my children in a country that doesn’t fear the future.

  The Gold Rush era was alive with travelling performers – singers, actors and circuses – who travelled the goldfields in caravans and wagons.

  Many of these acts came from Europe and America. But some were local, like the Ashton’s family circus, which was performing in Poppy’s time, and is still in existence today after one-hundred-and-sixty years.

  But there were also ‘snake oil’ salesmen pretending to be doctors, who would sell fake medicine to the miners and townspeople, then move on before they were found out.

  When Chinese diggers arrived on the goldfields, they soon had their own travelling shows. These performances were in the form of Chinese operas, which acted out thrilling stories from Chinese history. The operas were usually performed in tents or local halls.

  It is estimated that about fourteen Chinese companies toured the Victorian goldfields during the 1800s.

  Frank Weston was one of the first travelling salesmen to spruik their potions in travelling medicine shows during the 1860s – much like the character Professor Cutpurse in Poppy Comes Home.

  Nellie

  1849

  An Irish orphan

  in South Australia

  by

  PENNY MATTHEWS

  Meet Nellie O’Neill as she arrives in Adelaide, full of dreams.

  It’s 1849 and Nellie’s left the famine in Ireland far behind her and crossed the world to find a better life. Now that she’s come to South Australia, Nellie hopes she’ll never be hungry again. She has other hopes, too – to learn to read, and to be part of a family once more. Most of all, though, she wants to be seen not just as an Irish workhouse orphan, but as a person in her own right.

  Brave, bonny and full of fun, Nellie is a girl you’ll never forget. Meet Nellie and join the adventures of an Irish girl with a big heart, in search of the freedom to be herself.

  Alice

  1918

  A ballerina

  in World War One

  by

  DAVINA BELL

  Meet Alice Alexander, at home with her big family in their house on the banks of the Swan River.

  It’s 1918 and Alice’s deepest wish is to become a real ballerina. But as the war in Europe causes problems in Perth, her family is torn apart. Alice must make difficult choices between the thing she loves and the people she cares for most. Can she really give up on her dreams forever?

  Loyal, lively and graceful, Alice is an Australian girl living on the edge of the Indian Ocean. Meet Alice and join in the adventures of a girl with a beau
tiful gift in a world at war.

  Meet the other Australian girls and authors

  A HOME FOR GRACE

  1808

  It’s 1808 and Grace loves caring for baby Alice and working with her mistress, Beth, on the property at Rose Hill. Grace tries so hard to be a good servant – but still her master, Tom, doesn’t trust her. Does he blame her for what happened to Glory, who is injured and growing sicker every day? Grace has to do something to help, but who can she turn to?

  Sofie Laguna, author of the Grace books, is a highly regarded and award-winning writer of several books for children. Bird and Sugar Boy was shortlisted for the 2007 CBC Book of the Year Award, Younger Readers, and Sofie’s adult book, One Foot Wrong, was longlisted for the Miles Franklin Award in 2009.

  LETTY’S CHRISTMAS

  1841

  It’s 1841 and the Grey family have fallen on hard times. Letty is forced to return to Sydney. She has no money and nowhere to live. The journey back over the Blue Mountains is tough, and Harry doesn’t make it any easier. As Christmas draws near, will Letty ever make it to a place she can call home?

  Alison Lloyd, author of the Letty books, is the popular and highly regarded author of several books for children, including Year of the Tiger and Wicked Warriors and Evil Emperors, a fantastic and fact-filled book about Ancient China, shortlisted for the 2011 CBCA Eve Pownall Award.

  Rose in Bloom

  1900

  It’s 1900 and even the death of Queen Victoria can’t stop the growing excitement as Melbourne gets ready to celebrate Federation – on Rose’s birthday! Meanwhile at school, Rose loves being involved in the cricket team. She’s so focused on the game coming up that she almost doesn’t notice Abigail acting strangely. What’s wrong with Rose’s best friend? And can Rose help?