Michael Turnbull pressed his phone’s autodial for home the moment he hit the outskirts of Jacaranda Plains. He’d only been back in Sydney for a couple of weeks but it felt far longer than that and he was deeply glad to be back for the weekend.

It was a shame the day was almost over before he’d arrived, but knowing the main streets of many of the country towns he’d be passing through would be closed for Anzac Day parades during the morning, there was no point in making an early start.

“Does this mean you are in town, Michael?” his father’s voice over the in-car speaker made him smile. It was good to be home.

“Just coming through now. Anything you need?” he asked as a matter of course, not really expecting an answer in the affirmative at this time of day.

“Well, son, if you’re not too tired you might want to pop in at the school. Jemimah rang earlier saying that one of her kindy boys -- Julie Noake’s youngest - went missing after the Anzac day barbecue, and Jemimah was going to wait there until he’s found. Since we haven’t heard any more I’m assuming he hasn’t been.”

Michael blew out his breath as he looked out at the dark sky. “That’s not good -- I’ll go and see if there’s any news.”

“Good-o. Angie’s on her way into town for the social night -- Marlene’s organised a film at the community hall. If they end up organising a search party, it might be an idea to round up our people from there to help.”

“Sure -- and I’ll head straight to the school now. Give you another ring when I really head for home, okay?”

He disconnected the call after his father said goodbye, and frowned through the windscreen. He was already worried about Jemimah, without hearing this latest piece of news. When he’d asked after Jemimah on the phone last Friday night his Nan had been uncharacteristically sparse with details, merely saying Jemimah was finding things difficult at the moment, and that she was sure she’d appreciate his prayers. When he’d pressed for more information, Nan had changed the subject, leaving Michael with the sinking feeling that his grandmother, knowing how guilty he’d felt about what had happened with Jemimah on his last visit, was deliberately sparing him any more worry over her.

Hopefully his suspicions were wrong -- but it any case, he was glad to be back and would be very glad if there was anything he could do to help Jemimah out at the school.

A few fat drops of rain splattered onto his windscreen as he turned into the school yard, and parked his car beside Jemimah’s Datsun. Michael grabbed his jacket from the passenger seat, and shrugged himself into it as he walked around the side of the classroom building and into the quadrangle.

The wind was whipping up dust and leaves along with stinging pellets of cold rain and, with his head down and eyes shielded against a sudden gust, Michael was almost upon the red Ford Laser hatchback parked unexpectedly in the playground before he’d noticed it. He looked up to see Julie Noakes and her oldest son standing under the Infants’ classroom verandah. She’d been in Gabi’s year at school, but it crossed his mind that she looked many years older than Gabi now.

“Julie,” he called in greeting as he ran up the steps. “Any news?”

She nodded, jerkily, her thin lips pressed together tightly, “Yeah -- maybe. One of Kai’s mates finally admitted that they’d all been in the bush out the back of the school, but run off when they got scared by something. Beau wasn’t with them when they got out the bush so he’s probably still in there. I’m just waiting for Sarge to arrive, but his teacher’s gone to see if she can find him.”

“His teacher? Jemimah Parker?” He glanced over his shoulder at the rapidly blackening sky. “Jemimah’s gone looking for him in the bush? On her own?”

“Yeah, Sergeant Beavan told me to wait here for him, but Jemimah said she had a pretty good idea of the place the boys described, and wanted to try to find it before it got completely dark.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Just before you came. She said she was going to try to find a track that leads off the cross-country course.” Julie followed his gaze across the playground toward the ominous bush. “If you go after her now, you might still catch her.”

Michael didn’t wait for anything else, and was down the verandah steps in one stride. The rain was falling steadily as he ran across the concrete playground toward the sports field at the back of the school. When he was halfway across the field he glimpsed a slim figure in a long dress disappearing into the scrub.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted Jemimah’s name, relieved to see her turn back to him. As he approached her he saw that her face was drawn and pale, and her eyes were fixed on him anxiously as she ran to meet him.

“Has Beau been found?” Jemimah seemed oblivious to the rain, and if she was surprised to see Michael there, she didn’t show it.

He shook his head. “No, I just spoke to Julie, she told me you were going to search for Beau on your own. Sgt Beavan is on his way; he’ll set up a proper search. It’ll be completely dark in minutes -- if we go into the bush now we’d be lucky to find our way out again once the light’s gone. We could spend all night wandering around in circles.”

Jemimah gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Tell me about it. But this is my only chance of finding the clearing where the boys were -- the turnoff is less than halfway along the track but I don’t know that I’d recognise it in the dark. I’m sorry, Michael, there’s not time to talk about it. I’ve got to go now.”

Michael started to reply that they didn’t even have any torches with them, but Jemimah had already turned and run back into the bush. He pushed his dripping hair back from his eyes and sprinted after her.

“I’m coming with you then!” he called after her, and followed her through an opening between two tall gum trees marked by white symbols painted on their trunks, signalling the start of the cross-country course he’d run so many times when he’d been a pupil at the school there. As the wet bushland swallowed him whole its distinctive smell hit him like a physical force -- so invigorating, alive and real after the streets of Sydney. Even this close to town though, he recognised behind its beauty the veiled threats that it was anything but tame.

His long strides caught up with Jemimah quickly. “What were you thinking, Jemimah, coming in here on your own at dusk?”

The folly they were embarking on struck him so forcibly he considered grabbing her arm and making her stop -- but the haunted look on her face as she looked up at him kept him from doing it.

“There was no-one else,” she replied between snatched breaths, “and I’ve got to get to Beau before it’s dark.”

“But Beau mightn’t even be in here!”

“If he’s not -- that’s great. But if he is ...” Jemimah nearly slipped over on the wet track, but caught herself, and gathered up the long skirt of her dress with one hand as she ran on. “Don’t you know? You didn’t hear what happened to me ... what I saw in there?”

Michael had put out his hand toward her when he saw her slipping, but she’d barely faltered and her pace had not slackened. He was now having to work hard just to keep up with her. “No -- I haven’t heard anything. What happened?”

“I got caught in here, by a storm. On a night just like this. I got lost. I thought I’d found shelter ... in a clearing. But there was a yowie---“

“What?” he asked incredulously, his stomach twisting even as he shouted the single word. Hadn’t he and Angie been teasing her about the Yowie that night they’d played cards? Had she taken his joke seriously? An anguished groan rose to his God. What more harm had he done this poor girl?

“A yowie!” Jemimah shouted back, her voice bitter. “Oh, yes! I know. I’ve heard it all. There’s no such thing.” She ran several more metres before continuing, “Except that I know what I saw. Taller than any man I’ve ever seen. Covered in hair. Even its face. It had fangs and--” her voice broke off with what sounded like a sob, “and it was so horrifying ... that I ran all night ... to get away from it.”

Michael was struggling to keep up with her now, a stitch growing in his side and all the muscles in his legs protesting but his heart burned within him at her words. “Jemimah! I can’t believe -”

“I don’t care! I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore!” She shot Michael a glance over her shoulder, her hurt expression at odds with the defiance in her voice but, as she did so, caught her foot on a tree root. Her smooth soled shoes skidded on the wet ground as she tried to regain her balance, but this time she went down.

She was already scrambling to her feet when Michael reached out his hand to her.

“Jemimah! Wait! You misunderstood me,” Michael held on to her arm as she tried to pull away from him and resume her frantic dash. “I was trying to say ... that I can’t believe you coming back in here ... after seeing ... whatever it was. That you still came back in.”

The bitterness seemed to drain out of her as she stared back at him. “Then you understand ... why I have to get to Beau?”

He nodded. Whatever had really happened, Jemimah was fully convinced that she’d seen a yowie in there, and he could now understand her fear and urgency to find the lost boy.

“But I’m sorry -- I don’t think I can run anymore.” He released her arm and bent forward with his hands on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath. “And you -- your shoes weren’t made for running. Especially in this mud. Next time you go down you might break something and be no help to Beau at all.”

Jemimah stood still, considering, her chest heaving from running. She was wearing only a light cardigan over her long dress, but both were soaked through from the rain and moulded to her body.

Michael looked away quickly and stripped off his water-repellent jacket, and draped it around her shoulders. “Here, put this on.”

Jemimah shrugged her arms into it without seeming to notice, and looked up at the darkening sky. “It shouldn’t be too far. And the rain’s easing.”

She turned and headed back along the track. Not quite running, Michael noted gratefully, but still moving at a fast pace. Every few steps she looked back over her shoulder, her eyes darting and intense.

“Don’t worry -- I’m still with you!” he called back after the third or fourth time she did that, thinking she was reassuring herself he was still there.

It surprised a slight smile from her. “I know. It’s just I found the track after I doubled back. I don’t know what it looks like from this direction.” He followed her for another several minutes before she stopped and turned around to face him, shaking her head.

“I’ve missed it. This is already much further than I came that night, and I couldn’t find it.” She raised her hands to her face in an unconscious gesture of despair. “And it’s all my fault.”

“How is it your fault?”

“Everything is! I thought if I reported what I’d seen, and made them warn the parents I’d keep the children safe ... but it’s just made them curious. I should never have said anything to anyone. It didn’t help anyone. It’s only made everything far, far worse.”

“Hey.” Michael caught her by the shoulder. “God knows where Beau is, okay? Don’t forget He is still sovereign over all of this, over everything that’s happened. Let’s pray and then head back the way we’ve come. We’re still on the marked track, we’ve lost nothing by trying.”

Jemimah nodded and bowed her head as Michael briefly prayed for Beau, and for God’s help in finding him.

“Thank you,” she murmured as he finished, and then looked up at him, the driven expression that had been in her eyes before seeming to have faded to despair. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She began retracing their steps back along the track, and then stopped and looked up at him as though suddenly struck by a thought.

“Why are you here? Why aren’t you in Sydney?”

“Being a public holiday I thought I’d come home for the weekend. I was just coming in through town when ---“

“Your Dad knows you’re coming?”

Michael couldn’t help smiling at the concern on her face. “Yes -- I’ll only make the mistake of an unannounced visit once. It was when I rang Dad to say I was in town that he told me about your message about Beau, so I said I’d check in to see if you needed any help.”

“Thank you,” she said, starting off again along the track at a more reasonable walking pace. “I am very grateful not to be in here alone again. But Beau is all alone -- and if it finds him ...”

The apprehension in her voice was unmistakable, but Michael was at a loss to account for what really could have happened in the bush. The unfortunate incident on his last visit home was still fresh in his mind, and it was easy to believe that having become lost in the dark Jemimah had become similarly overwrought. But how could he reassure her that even if Beau was lost in the bush he’d be in danger from nothing more than exposure - without at the same time siding against her with the rest of her detractors?

“Jemimah? Would you mind telling me about what happened? Exactly what you saw?”

Her sigh came from somewhere down deep. Then, as though reluctantly, she related her encounter with what she seemed convinced was a yowie -- from the moment she stepped into the clearing to when she was picked up by Sgt Beavan the following morning.

“Don’t worry, Michael, I know how ridiculous it all sounds. I don’t even want to believe me,” she said when she finished. “This last week I’ve been trying to convince myself I must have only imagined the whole thing -- that I am going crazy. I’ve been terrified of being alone, or of being in the dark in case I imagined something else ... but with Beau out here somewhere, I can’t pretend that it didn’t happen. It wasn’t just a trick of the light, because I smelled the yowie and heard it too.” Jemimah wrapped her arms tightly across her chest. “It’s seems stupid to put it in words -- but it was something alive. I felt its presence; I knew it saw me, and weighed me up as though it knew exactly who I was.”

Michael still had no idea what she had seen -- nor how to respond to her tale without causing her more hurt. So he said the one thing he could say truthfully from his heart, “I still think you’re pretty amazing to come back in here after what you’ve been through.”

“Thanks. That would be the only positive opinion of me in the whole of Jacaranda Plains.”

“I know you think no-one believes you -- but did you tell Sgt Bevan everything you told me? Did he search the bush?”

“Oh, no -- after I told him my whole story he was only interested in keeping the public safe from the one real threat. Me.” She shook her head from side to side as though trying to shake away unpleasant thoughts. “When I told him about the yowie after he found me he accused me of being on drugs and then collaborated with my principal’s theory that I was having a nervous breakdown or something. Linda wanted me to take a leave of absence but I suspect it was Sgt Beavan who spread the story around town that I was cracking under the pressure of problems at school. I admit it wasn’t helped by my insisting that the parents be warned to keep their children out of the bush. Half of my children’s parents are against me anyway -- they didn’t need much to prove to them I’m unfit for the job. Every day I dread a letter from Head Office ... telling me ...” here she broke off.

“Oh, Jem! I’m so sorry.”

Jemimah shrugged jerkily. “You know how frightened I was about coming out here to work in the first place -- and I never imagined for a moment that it could be this bad. And now I’ve lost Beau!”

“For all we know, he might have already been found --” Michael began but Jemimah suddenly clutched his arm.

“This is it! This is the fork I took!”

Now Jemimah was running again, but this time Michael didn’t try to stop her. He kept up, buoyed by her renewed confidence, until she inexplicably stopped and started back the way they’d just come.

“Is this not it?”

“Yes, it is. But this is what I did last time. I thought I was heading the wrong way and then I turned back, and came to another fork ...” she ran on in silence, concentrating. The light was so dim now, that the scrub around them was reduced to only shades of grey and dark shadows.

“Okay, this should be the last turn,” Jemimah darted into a small track on the right, “and then it’s just finding the clearing.”

They ran for some minutes, deeper into the bush, and with a sinking heart Michael knew he was now so disorientated by the many twists and turns that he no longer had any confidence he’d be able to lead them back to the main track. He had no fear of yowies -- or anything else in the bush, real or imagined -- but Jemimah did, and even if it meant a cold and uncomfortable night in the bush, he was grateful God had brought him there at just the right time so that Jemimah wouldn’t be lost and alone again.

His muscles were beginning to protest again, though, when Jemimah stopped abruptly.

“That’s the clearing.”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and he didn’t think he imagined her pressing closer against him. She took a deep and shuddering breath, but stayed rooted to the spot. Guessing Jemimah might be held back by fear, Michael was about to go ahead of her when she stepped determinedly through the trees.

She stopped again, just within the tree line, and Michael began to make out the edges of the clearing. Jemimah moved forward, tentatively.

“Beau,” she called out, her voice constricted, like someone who tries to call for help in a nightmare but can’t make any sound. “Beau -- it’s Miss Parker -- Beau, are you there?”

Her call had been barely more than a kitten’s mew, that no-one could have heard, but just as Michael cupped his hands around his mouth to repeat the call himself a child’s voice came back across the clearing: “Oh, Miss Parker! You found me!”

“Beau!” Jemimah sprinted toward the far side of the clearing. Grinning with relief, Michael followed close on her heels, now able to see the shadowy recess formed by boulders and a twisted tree from where the little boy’s voice had come.

“Oh, sweetheart! Are you okay?” Jemimah had crawled under the mouth of the overhanging rock, and Michael crouched beside her as she gathered a small boy into her arms.

“Yes... but I’ve hurt my leg and he thinks it might be broken and told me not to move. But it still hurts.”

Michael looked past Jemimah and saw that one of the boy’s legs was crudely splinted with rags and two stout branches.

“Who told you that?” Jemimah asked him, but before the little boy could answer Michael heard a sound not unlike a heavy footstep somewhere behind him.

He sprang to his feet, and peered intently into the gloomy clearing. He heard Jemimah’s sharply indrawn breath.

Whatever it was, she had heard it too.