Kipp The Kid Page 3

  Kipp had seen bruises many times. He was always hurting himself, whether it was when helping around the farm, playing in the yard or down at the mines. Once he had a bruise so long it resembled a snake. He was so proud of it he showed it off at school and told the other boys it was a tattoo. They had laughed at him because it clearly wasn’t and he cursed himself for being so stupid. But the only time he ever saw a bruise on a face was when Jack go hit by a cricket ball when they went out for a hit one day. It had hit him so hard it caused an egg to appear on his cheek and the next day he had a bruise the size of a tennis ball.

  Kipp knew Jane had gone straight home. It wasn’t even lunch time when she let him in to her house. The two of them had crept slowly past her sleeping dad. Kipp had seen the mess on the floor. Bottles carelessly discarded, leftover food from the night before. He hadn’t been inside very often, but he did not remember it ever being like this. She had led him to her bedroom and pleaded for him to stay. But, in his frame of mind, he was in no mood and really didn’t want to see any more of her.

  But now, waltzing along the well-worn track through the pines, out over the floodway, then the pans, past the tailings and then to the ruins, something in the back of his mind was nagging him. A voice that sounded somewhat familiar, the voice of his mother. Not loud, but stern, Not harsh, but pointed. Not unwelcome, but concerning.

  “Go back!”

  He tried to ignore it. But some things cannot be ignored. If it was his mother, he never ignored it. She had such a way about her. Impossible to ignore.

  So, when he was almost there, at the mines, he swung around on his heels and headed right back again. He went in through the back door and peered around the kitchen doorway. Her father wasn’t there. He crept up the stairs and looked carefully down the passageway. No signs of him. He quietly stepped towards her room and opened the door slowly. Jane was lying on her bed, her face away from the doorway towards the window. She had not heard him enter.

  “Jane?” He saw her body grimace, like someone had slapped their hands together hard right next to her. He was now worried. He moved towards her bed and said much more softly, “Jane?”

  She pulled her left hand up to cover her face. “Go away.” When she said this, her voice sounded broken, like she had been crying.

  “Are you ok?” He was reminded again of the times people had stated the obvious and almost expected her to sit up and yell “No genius. Of course I’m not ok.” But she said nothing. He sat on her bed and placed one hand gently on her shoulder and pulled her over. She did not resist, allowing her hand to fall away from her face. What he saw them shocked him not because of the injury, but because of who he imagined might have caused it.

  He sat there on her bed, gently rubbing her shoulder as he listened to her tell him what happened. Every now and then she couldn’t talk, sobbing quietly instead. Her father had come home drunk. Nothing unusual about that. She was supposed to have his dinner ready, this, an eleven year old girl. He had become angry and had whacked the dishes away from the table. A ceramic mug had flung up and hit her in the face. “He had not meant to hurt me”, she had told Kipp, but the pain, the injury was deeper than a mere bruise. Kipp could tell she was hurting inside. She made it clear she did not blame her father, though Kipp had a different opinion. “He just misses her, that’s all.”

  Kipp did not know much of the details about what happened to her mother. He knew she had died a few years back, when she was little, after her family had moved in. But they were so secretive and Jane had not been allowed out much. Her father kept her home a lot. Maybe he was too protective, maybe he needed her. But that was no excuse to yell at her and certainly no excuse to be responsible for her current state.

  Sensing Kipp’s anger, Jane grabbed his arm and made him promise not to do anything. Kipp sat very quiet for some time, until Jane stopped crying. Before he left she made him promise again. He only nodded.

  It was late before Kipp finally got up and went to her door. Then he turned to her and smiled warmly. “Do you want to come with me tomorrow?” She smiled back weakly and then nodded. “You will need some more stuff though. Do you have a swag?”

  “Dad does, in the garage.”

  “Good. Leave the rest to me. Be ready early. We’re going to be gone for a couple of days.” He left her then and crept back down stairs. In the time he had been in her room, Jane’s father had come down stairs and was fast asleep in the lounge chair, a bottle of beer still in his hand, tilted over, with beer dribbling onto the floor. Kipp thought about tying him to the chair and calling the police, but remembered his promise. As he stood there, staring, he promised that one day he would do something about it, when he was big enough. But Jane’s father would have to wait. Instead, he would take her to his camp, as often as he could. He would put up with her childish jabbering. He would overlook her girlish ways. He would look after her. He would be, he thought, her brother, her friend.

  The next morning was Saturday and he convinced his gran and grumps that they should let him go for two nights camping. They rarely said no. But he had some trouble. Of course they had a list of things he had to do before he left and another one for when he came back. Great, he thought, this is going to take at least two hours. But he rushed through them like his dog Nip at training, eagerly anticipating a reward at the end, for doing everything he was asked.

  The previous night, before he went to bed, he typed up a contract he would read to Jane when they arrived at camp. He packed it with extra supplies, enough for two or three days. Then, later in the morning, still early, but much later than Kipp had wanted, he went next door and called out in a loud whisper to Jane. At first she did not appear. But after some groaning she was at her window.

  She took so long coming down, Kipp was worried she had either changed her mind, or her father had caught up with her. He wondered whether Jane’s father would even miss her, or would worry. He needn’t have. When Jane met him at the back door, she told him she had spent half the night making meals for her dad and had left a note, saying she was going to her friend’s house for a stay over.

  Then they were off. The bruise on Jane’s face had grown darker and larger, but the swelling had gone down and the red in her bloodshot eye had gone. They wasted no time. Kipp didn’t even take the time to ask her what she was bringing, but noticed the small bag she had with her, which wasn’t much larger than a hand bag. They went to the garage and opened the door and Kipp grabbed the swag and a deck chair.

  Kipp always almost ran the entire way to the camp site and he was usually there within an hour at the slowest. But with Jane, they could only walk and it took much longer. Nip wasn’t happy about it. Being a cattle dog, he loved to run. Kipp had to call him back a couple of times, telling him off and then commanding him to walk, something Nip did not like to do. Nip shot a glance up at Jane and she thought she read an expression on his face that made her feel unwelcome. Kipp didn’t notice.

  “Why did you name him Nip?” she asked, trying to make the dog feel more at ease.

  “When he was little he had a habit of biting everything. The cat, the sheep, the pigs, even the horses. It didn’t matter the size or how dangerous another animal, he always had a go at it. Once,” he explained, “there was a brown snake in the yard and Nip went right up to it and grabbed it around the neck. I had to hit the snake hard with a pole to kill it before it bit him. After that, Nip sat proudly panting next to the dead snake, as if he had killed it all by himself. So we called him Nip from then on.”

  At the camp site, everything was as it was the last time they were there. Kipp checked the site, almost expecting things to have been moved. He was glad they weren’t. “Have you eaten yet?”

  “No. No time.”

  He cracked open a can of baked beans and tinned fruit and served it up on tin plates. He opened a can of spam for Nip. He didn’t know whether Jane ate beans and he didn’t think to ask. When she ate it all without complaining, he was pleased.

  When they
had finished breakfast, Kipp got out his contract.

  “What’s that?” Jane asked.

  “It’s a contract.”

  “What for?”

  “For you of course.”

  Jane was about to ask another question when Kipp interrupted, reading from the contract.

  Camping Contract between Kipp and Jane

  When at camp, obey all of Kipp’s rules. Don’t ask stupid questions or complain.

  When at camp, eat what Kipp eats. Don’t complain or you will miss out on eating at all.

  When hiking, wear sensible shoes.

  He stopped to check to see what shoes Jane had brought. She held up a pair of boots and grinned.

  “They’ll have to do,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  When exploring, always wait for Kipp first. It’s dangerous in the mines and usually not a place for girls or anyone inexperienced at exploring.

  “You really like your lists, don’t you,” she interrupted. Kipp ignored her.

  Never interrupt Kipp when he is reading from one of his lists.

  “It doesn’t say that. You made that up.”

  Kipp got out a pen and wrote it down on the bottom of the page. Now it does.

  “So now you’re making up rules as you go along?”

  “My camp, my space, my spot, my rules, got it?” he said, frowning. This is going to be more difficult than I imagined, he thought.

  When at camp you have to do your fair share of collecting sticks and wood, cleaning up and cooking.

  “What about washing and ironing and shopping, are they there too?” she added, teasing him. Kipp was going to tell her off but realized it was actually quite funny.

  “Funny!” he said and then checked his list.

  Kipp decided not to read the rest. He gave his pen to Jane and stared at her blankly. She took the pen.

  “You’re kidding right?”

  At the bottom of the page, there was a dotted line, right below her name, Jane.

  “It’s Janine Prescott. Janine, Andrea Prescott. The only people who call me Jane are my dad and relatives,” she explained in a much more serious tone than she had intended. Kipp chuckled. “Why are you laughing?”

  “Well, it’s funny. I mean, I’ve only ever heard you be called Jane. I didn’t even know your middle name. I knew you were a Prescott, everyone does.”

  She didn’t let him finish. She took the pen and wrote her full name next to Jane and then signed it in beautiful handwriting.

  “Wow!” said Kipp. “I’ve only ever seen writing like that in a book.” He was smiling when he said this but stopped smiling when he saw a tear in her eye.

  “Andrea was my mother’s name.”

  Kipp carefully folded the contract and put it away. Then he started packing up the empty tin cans and plates. “We can’t leave these lying around. The foxes will sniff them out and we don’t want one of those things hanging around at night.”

  She helped him eagerly and then he got out his map he had spent many days drawing. It was a remarkably accurate map of all the mines, including shafts, tunnels, crevices, open cuts, with all the old buildings and ruins marked and labeled. Jane was impressed. Then he rolled up his swag and put everything into an alcove tucked neatly into the base of the chasm wall. Jane rolled hers up too, but it wasn’t as neat as his. “Hmmmm.” He said. “Well, come on,” he added impatiently, strapping on his hiking boots. We’ve got a lot of exploring to do. I’ll show you around.”

  Nip anticipated this and was already a way off in front, seemingly knowing exactly where they were heading first. He barked and then ran a few paces, stopping and barking again as if to say, “Well come on then, we haven’t got all day.” When Jane barked back at him he cocked his head to the side, pricking up his ears. Then he bounded off into the shadows at the narrow part of the chasm and disappeared.

  Kipp followed him, with Jane not far behind. In the distance there was the sound of something like motorbikes. But it was so far off, Kipp did not think anything of it. It didn’t enter either of their heads that the bikes were heading their way.

  interlogue

  The Adventure Begins

  The old man paused briefly to check to see if the two children were listening. The girl beamed up at him, her lollipop almost finished. She had stopped licking it when he stopped telling his story. The boy too had stopped. His eyes were glazed over as he looked out across the paddocks. Out in the distance you could just see the chimney stack pocking up above the Aleppo Pines.

  It was now midday. There was the sound of cattle, goats, chickens and horses around them. But way off in the distance there was another sound. A much less natural sound. An incessant buzzing, like a swarm of angry bees. Hearing the motorbikes brought troubling thoughts to the old man’s heart and he wasn’t sure how to continue his story.

  “Was someone coming?” asked the girl suddenly.

  “Someone,” he answered absentmindedly.

  “Yes, you mentioned motorbikes. Who were they and why were they coming?” added the lad, eagerly.

  “Oh, yes, yes, of course. This part of the story is where the excitement and the real adventure begins. You see, Kipp was not tall, was not physically strong, but he was fit and he could climb like a monkey and swing like one too. What he lacked in strength, he more than made up for in wits and intelligence…”

  chapter 5: the out-of-towners

  Jane had never been inside a mine. In fact, she had never even been inside a cave. She had read The Adventures of Huckleberry Fin once and recalled the Indian that almost killed Becky in that story. If not for the wits and cunning of Fin, Becky would surely have been hurt or even killed. Jane wondered if ghosts or criminals hid in the dark, deep in the mines and shivered when she thought about the possibility.

  But for all her reservations, she trusted Kipp. He had led her through a wire grate and down a rope ladder to an opening to an old tunnel lined at the top and both sides with very old timbers, that creaked and groaned under the weight of the earth above them. He had with him a torch light with a shiny metal casing.

  “How is it powered?” she asked.

  “What the torch? Have you not seen one before?”

  “No, well yes, but only at the movies.”

  “Well, this is a brand new one and the batteries last about two hours.”

  “Only two?” she said rather nervously.

  “Don’t worry. I have a backup.”

  “What, you mean back up bat—”

  “Sshhhh!” Kipp interrupted her, holding up a finger to his lips. “It echoes in here. You only need to whisper.”

  Jane followed Kipp down the tunnel, which zigzagged a few times before they came to two tunnels one heading left and the other diverting off to the right. Kipp then pulled a red handkerchief from his pocket and stuck it under a small stone so that most of it was still visible. Then with a piece of chalk, he marked an arrow back in the direction they came from. “I normally don’t need to do this, because I know the way, but if you ever find yourself in tunnels, always mark the way back out.” Jane suddenly felt more at ease, trusting that Kipp knew exactly what he was doing. Her fear from earlier was now replaced with a thirst for adventure.

  “How far?” She whispered. Her voice was returned to her, but met her ears as a soft imitation. Again she felt a shiver. She imagined there might well be another person in the tunnel, such was the clarity of the voice, her voice, whispered back to her as perfectly as the vision of her own reflection in a mirror.

  “Not long.” Kipp whispered back. He was not lying. After only a few hundred feet they were at a large opening. Then, Kipp turned to Jane and placed a gentle hand on one shoulder, as if to reassure her. “Watch this.” Without warning, he turned off his torch and Jane’s first instinct was to squeal. She held a hand to her mouth. Then she pulled it back again and realized she could not even see the hand in front of her face. Kipp grabbed her free hand and held it tight. “Wait for it.”