Read Online The Forgotten Pearl by Belinda Murrell - Free Book Online Page A

children.
    â€˜ Got you! ’ squealed Poppy, tickling a child with the sock puppet. ‘I’m going to eat you up!’
    â€˜No,’ giggled the young boy, swiping away the sock puppet. ‘You can’t hurt me!’
    Like the people of the Mediterranean, those in the Top End often rested through the hottest hours of the day, from midday to three o’clock. The patients drifted away, the cameleer closed up shop and the men found a place to rest in the shade of the verandah or the surrounding outbuildings. Poppy, who rarely rested throughout the day, felt her eyelids and limbs growing heavy. She found a sofa in the corner of the surgery and closed her eyes, just for a moment.
    When she woke, her father had finished for the day. Ali had moved on to camp in the scrub, on his way to the next station. Jack and the other stockmen had groomed and turned out all the horses. The Aboriginal stockmen, their wives and children had gathered their new purchases and drifted back to their own huts and cottages.
    It was late afternoon when Jack poked his head through the door to say that he and some of the stockmen were heading down to the creek for a swim. Doctor Trehearne and Jack’s parents eagerly agreed to join them. One of the stockmen harnessed up the draughthorse to the dray to carry people, towels and food down to the creek.
    The Shanahans were blessed with a shallow, sandy swimming hole that was generally safe from dangerous saltwater crocodiles. The smaller, freshwater crocodiles were more timid and often hid from human interlopers. During the dry season, the creek leading to the waterhole evaporated, so it was impossable for the larger beasts to reach them from downstream. In addition, the waterhole was fed by a hot spring from deep underground. This water mingled with the icy water of the creek to form a bubbling warm bathing place. The bathers could then choose theperfect temperature to wallow in – boiling hot, warm, tepid or cold, depending on where they sat.
    It was nearly dusk when the dray pulled up in a clearing near the swimming hole. Poppy ignored thoughts of freshwater crocs, snakes and bandicoots to jog down to the swimming hole through the tall paperbarks and shady river pandanus. The adults followed at a more leisurely pace, towels slung over their shoulders.
    Poppy reached the creek first, throwing her towel and dress over a log and sinking luxuriously into the water, the chattering adults approaching in the distance. She sank under the water to block out the noise, lying flat on the pale sand, only her face sticking out from the warm water. The sky arched overhead, awash with reds, pinks, yellows, rose, peach and violet.
    Flocks of yellow-and-white cockatoos screeched and swooped down to drink from the creek. A lone wedge-tailed eagle soared high in the sky. Tiny fish nibbled her toes. Poppy felt like she was the only person in the world, surrounded by this vibrant natural beauty.
    A loud splash woke Poppy from her reverie. It was Jack, dive-bombing into the pool, spraying her and the birds with a shower of tepid water. The cockatoos swooped away with an indignant screech.
    â€˜It’s too hot here, Midget,’ complained Jack. ‘Come downstream a little where it’s cooler. It’s more refreshing.’
    Poppy groaned lazily but obeyed, crocodile-walking down to where the water was colder, raising goosebumps all over her arms. The adults and Jack’s brothers stayed higher where the water was warm as a bath. Jack lay back, half-submerged, like a log.
    â€˜Look up,’ he ordered. ‘Keep your head under water so you can’t hear anything.’
    Poppy obeyed, staring into the vast, wide sky. The horizon had dimmed from crimson to mauve. The dome overhead was a deep purple, with the odd spangle of silver stars gleaming in the velvet. Poppy felt like she was floating in a peaceful, innocent vacuum.
    Soon the adults drifted down to the cooler water.