The Curse Of Grandma Maple 4k514r

First published in Melbourne in 2019 Copyright © Jac Tomlins 2019 Cover illustration by Matt Glover Cover design by Carlie Jennings Text design and illustrations by Carlie Jennings Edited by Naomi Murphy and Carlie Jennings All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, by any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN 978-0-6487272-1-7 jactomlins.com

For Sarah, Corin, Scout and Cully – my rainbow family – with love beyond measure.

And for all the other rainbow families out there.

chapter 1

Two secrets

E pic!” said Connor to his sister, Sam, as they stared across the huge, sparkling lake. “Do you really think they’ll let us go by ourselves?” said Sam, shoving her hands deep into the pocket of her hoodie. “They’d better,” said Connor. “We’re not kids anymore – don’t need babysitting.” “Yeah, but you know … Uncle David?” “Yeah: We’ll see. Not promising anything.” He shook his head. “And it’s not like Mum and Mama are totally convinced.” “I know, and Mama actually wants to come with us. Not happening.” Connor clambered up a rock and looked over the water and the vast stretch of pine trees beyond. He was desperate to do this trip and he’d spent months emailing plans back and forth with his cousins Nick and Ella in Toronto. Canoeing was what Canadians did, like Australians and surfing. You loaded up your stuff and paddled off into nowhere, and this summer they were going out alone. No adults – just the four of them and the great Canadian wilderness. He’d almost managed to persuade his mums – with conditions – but Uncle David said he still wasn’t sure and kept banging on about all the dangers: bears and poisonous plants and stuff. But that was just to put them off and Connor wouldn’t have a bar of it. Connor was sure. Well, he was mostly sure. ‘That Business Last Summer’ – as his mums called it – still bothered him sometimes. But he was mostly over that; really, he was. He knew they could do it. He just

had to get his uncle to agree, and his mums. “Check out the cottage?” said Connor to his sister, before turning and racing back through the trees, Sam close on his heels. They flung open the door of the old, wooden summerhouse – it wasn’t really a cottage at all, more like an old weatherboard you’d find down the beach – but that’s what Canadians called it. Inside, the ancient walls were sloped and uneven, barely holding the roof up, and the old stone chimney looked like it would collapse if you coughed too hard. And there was stuff everywhere: paddles, kerosene lanterns, bear bells … Connor peered at the faded, black and white pictures that lined the walls – family groups in formal, stuffy clothes and kids by the lake with heavy, wooden canoes. “Reckon we must be related to half these guys,” he said. “Distantly related, I hope,” said Sam, looking at the dusty old-fashioned portraits. His great, great – Connor was never sure how many – grandfather had built the cottage on the edge of the Ketchecom township decades ago, and a few generations had lived there permanently before it had become a holiday cottage. His gran knew all the family history going way back and loved to share it. Connor and Sam had visited once before, years ago when they were little; they didn’t much about it. But Connor did watching the older kids across the lake setting out in their canoes for overnight camps, and he’d wanted to do that ever since. “Where’re Nick and Ella?” asked Sam, surfing a wobbly floorboard in the middle of the room. Their cousins and Uncle David had come up a few days earlier so that Nick could get in some extra canoe practice. Aunty Louise had driven up that afternoon to them, stopping at the airport to collect Connor and Sam and their mums on her way through. They’d been at the cottage for less than half an hour. They would have arrived sooner, but Aunty Lou had insisted on a quick stop in Rokeby, the local town, to pick up supplies. “They’re heading this way,” said Connor, peering through the front window at the lake, and pointing to his cousins in the distance. “Been out to the island by the look of it.”

“Do you think he ed?” said Sam. “He’d better’ve,” said Connor. Before their mums would even think about letting them out by themselves, Nick had to his ORCKA certificate with the Ontario Recreational Canoeing and Kayaking Association. That meant he not only had to paddle really well, but he also had to know all about safety and navigation. Sam had done a bit of paddling at camp back home – only the basics, but she assured Connor he’d be able to pick it up quickly. It had been agreed that Connor and Sam would do a crash course in their first few weeks; then, if Uncle David thought they were ready, the adults would have a four-way conference to discuss whether they could make the unaccompanied trip. Connor liked his Uncle David a lot, but he was strict about all this stuff. Plus, Nick had said in his messages that his dad was being really annoying lately, and that was not going to help their chances of going out alone. “Don’t suppose you much, eh?” said their mum, Sal, pushing through the front door with a huge box of groceries. She paused a moment, looking around the room. “There’s such a lot of history in this cottage,” she said, “and I love that I get to share that with you two now.” “Aw! Isn’t that sweet, Sam? Mum’s ing when she used to come here in the olden days.” Their other mum, Jen, stumbled through the door, a pack on each shoulder and a sleeping bag stuffed under each arm. She dumped them by the fireplace and grabbed Connor and Sam, flinging her arms around their shoulders. “This is going to be soooo much fun. I can’t wait!” “Yeah, but just , Mama,” said Connor, “you are not actually doing this trip. It’s just the four of us. It’s a kids’ trip.” “I know, I know. But a girl can dream can’t she? Now where are my gorgeous nephew and niece?”

A few minutes later, Nick, Ella and Uncle David burst through the door and fell

into the room. Literally. Nick caught his toe on the edge of a floorboard, Ella came down on top of him, and Uncle David ended up sprawled halfway across them both. “Hi guys,” said Connor, “great entrance – been practising that?” “Yeah, funny,” said his older cousin, hauling himself up. “You’re bigger in real life,” Connor said, looking at them both. They each had bright red hair, dark brown eyes and a face full of freckles. They were a set, his cousins and uncle; exactly the same but in different sizes, like those Russian dolls. But then, everyone said how much he and Sam looked alike – same blue eyes and brown hair, kind of skinny and shorter than average – quality not quantity, his mums said. The Canadian cousins were the oldest and youngest, with Connor and Sam in the middle. “Hey Connor,” said Ella, hopping from one foot to the other. “We’re going out by ourselves and we’re going to look for otters and go swimming and build fires and –” “Er … maybe!” said Connor, glancing at his uncle. “Great to see you both,” said Uncle David, giving them a huge hug. “Let’s not worry about that now, eh? Look at you two. You’ve grown, too. Funny that. So great to have you here.” “Thanks Uncle David. Reckon the extra height will help with the paddling.” Uncle David smiled and ruffled Connor’s hair. “We’ll see, eh, Uncle David?” said Sam, with a completely straight face. “Not promising anything?” “Yes, Sam. Thank you,” he said, wrestling her into a hug. “Something like that.” “I’ve been practising,” said Sam, “at camp.” “Glad to hear it. And how are my two favourite sisters-in-law?” said Uncle David, stepping over packs and bags to give Jen and Sal a hug. “Good flight?”

“Twenty-three hours up close and personal?” said Sal. “But very happy to be here, and I made Jen sit in the back on the drive up so Lou and I could catch up on all the family dramas.” Uncle David laughed. “Yeah, no shortage of those with your parents!” he said. “They’ll be here tomorrow and they can’t wait to see you all. Come on, Lou’s just unpacking stuff into the boathouse and has put me on coffee duty. Let me get that organised and we can worry about all this gear later.”

T he four cousins spread themselves on the overstuffed couches in the lounge room, Connor stifling a yawn. “So I got my ORCKA certificate,” announced Nick. “Awesome,” said Connor. It put them one step closer to actually going on this trip. He knew there was loads to learn; all the strokes, the rescue stuff and the dangers: hypothermia, snake bites, Uncle David’s bears, even. He wasn’t worried about picking it up. It wasn’t exactly rocket science – oar in, paddle, oar out. It was just, well … That Business Last Summer. It had freaked him out; before then he’d always been completely okay in the water – confident, no problems – but now he wasn’t so sure. Anyway, at least no one here knew about it – Sam, of course, and both his mums; they were all there when it happened – but not his cousins or his uncle and aunt – and that was how he wanted it. And it was really different here – no waves or rips, just a nice, calm lake. Easy. Nothing to worry about. Of course, Uncle David could still shut the whole thing down. “So, has your dad said –” Connor began. “His dad hasn’t said anything,” said Uncle David, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of drinks. “We’ve got a lot of work to do before I’m letting you four out on that lake by yourselves. You know that.” “But Dad, you said –” “I said there’s work to do, Nick. Let’s just leave it at that, okay.”

“But you –” “Nick! Stop! Okay? Just stop,” said Uncle David, setting down the tray. He took a deep breath. “Who’s for pink lemonade?” There was an uncomfortable silence and Nick’s freckled face flushed crimson. He stared at his shoes determinedly. “Ah, pink lemonade!” said Connor, a bit too brightly. “I that – made from pink lemons, isn’t it Uncle!?” Pink lemonade was a weird Canadian thing, and when Connor was little, his Uncle David had tried to persuade him that the lemons grew pink in Canada because they didn’t get enough sun to go yellow. Why Canadians liked their lemonade pink when everyone else in the world liked it the normal colour, he had no idea, but it didn’t matter – it tasted great. “Absolutely, buddy. And there’s a bumper crop of pink lemons this year! Now, why don’t you guys take your drinks down to the lake before your jetlag kicks in and you fall asleep?”

A s Uncle David had predicted, they struggled to stay awake. It was a massive journey from Australia to Canada, and although they had made a pact with their mums to stay up until it got dark, Connor and Sam found it easier said than done. They skimmed a few stones across the lake, caught up with their cousins, then headed back to the cottage for dinner. Afterwards, while they all sat on the couches chatting, the sky outside finally darkened and Aunty Lou turned the lamps on. Connor squinted at the sudden brightness and caught Nick’s eye. “The little Aussies are a bit tired,” Nick announced to the adults, smiling at his cousins. “Me and Ell will take them up.” Connor rolled his eyes, but decided to ignore it. They said goodnight and followed Nick and Ella through the old downstairs playroom, with its halfcollapsed bookcases, and up the ladder to the attic. There was a big, square landing at the top of the ladder, with two rooms going off each side, and more stuff – boxes of dog-eared photos, old newspapers, and

some moth-eaten pennants. There was a stack of baseball bats and hockey sticks in the corner, and a bookcase with dusty board games and a chess set. Connor had forgotten how ancient the cottage was, like it really did belong to a different time. “Get good wi-fi, then?” he said to his cousin. “Yeah, right,” laughed Nick. “What is all this stuff?” asked Sam, picking up a Boy’s Own Annual. “Looks like it comes from another century, which, come to think of it, it probably does.” “Been around forever,” said Nick. “Got moved up here when Grandpa renovated.” “It’s like a time warp,” said Connor, “like those old-fashioned stories Mum used to read us when we were little.” “And if we get really bored,” said Sam, flicking through the pages of the annual, “we can build a go-kart or make a bow and arrow.” “Or just hang out with the wildlife,” said Connor, pointing to Sam’s feet. Sam looked down at the bearskin rug beneath her and jumped back, a full head of yellowing teeth and glass eyes staring right back up at her. “Eew! That is completely gross,” she said. “They don’t still shoot them, do they?” “Yeah, of course,” said Nick. “Beginning of every summer – to keep the numbers down. I’ve arranged with my dad for us to go on a bear hunt next week.” “Yeah, funny,” said Sam. “No,” Nick said, grinning. “That one’s been around forever and it’s illegal now. You don’t see bears around here much anyway, unless …” “Unless what?” Sam demanded. “Unless spring’s late and there’re no berries; then they head south, looking for food.” “And let me guess, spring was late this year?” Sam said.

“Well, only a bit,” Nick said. “You have way more scary animals in Australia, anyway,” said Ella, hopping back and forth over the bear’s head. “Sharks and crocodiles and those spiders that crawl across the ceiling and drop down onto your head and inject poison into your neck.” “Seriously, Ell?” said Nick, staring at his sister. “Yeah, well, maybe,” said Sam, “but not in the middle of Melbourne. Though, when you come to stay and we take you camping in the bush …” “You’re in here, Connor,” said Ella, cartwheeling to the door of one of the four rooms that came off the landing. “You’re just above the – I mean …” Ella stopped mid-sentence, threw a glance at her brother, which Connor was pretty sure he wasn’t meant to see, and then said, “I mean, you look out over the lake.” “Above the what?” said Sam and Connor together. “Oh, nothing,” said Nick. “Come on. Let’s … let’s get your gear into your rooms.” Connor stepped into his room. And then out again. He looked down through the attic entrance and then across to his room. “That’s weird. What are we above? Is there another room, like, off the playroom? It looks like there is, but there’s no door downstairs.” Nick looked uncomfortable. “Oh … yeah. There is, actually,” he said. Ella was about to say something, but Nick shot her a look. “It’s … a storeroom,” Nick said, still staring at Ella, who nodded. “Well, how do you get in there?” asked Connor. “We … we don’t go in there much. Anyway, forget about that! Look up. See what Grandpa did last summer.” Nick flicked the light switch so that the landing fell dark, and Connor tried to catch Sam’s eye, but she was already craning her neck upwards. Grandpa had

put a huge sloping skylight between the rafters, and everywhere you looked you could see a mass of twinkling stars. “That’s so cool!” said Sam. “It’s like your own planetarium!” “See that?” said Nick, pointing into the darkness, “that’s the Big Dipper, like a cup with a handle? Sometimes it’s called the Plough, too. If you draw a line between the two bottom stars there, and follow it straight up, you hit Polaris. See, the really bright one? That’s the North Star. You can work out where you are if you’re lost at night, and the dipper moves around so you can use it as a clock – actually tell the time, if you know what you’re looking for.” Connor nudged Sam in the darkness. They could barely pick out the Southern Cross on a good day at home. “You been Googling this stuff or something?” Connor asked. “Nah. Mom told me,” Nick replied. “She said she and Aunty Sal used to lie on the dock at night and pick out the constellations when they were our age.”

T he rooms were nice, Connor thought – a pine bed in each, with a thick quilt and a small chest of drawers with a bedside light. Plain and basic, but he wasn’t planning on spending too much time there. He grabbed some pyjamas from the top of his pack, changed quickly and buried himself under the quilt. He was exhausted and he knew they had a huge day ahead of them tomorrow. If they were going to persuade Uncle David to let them go out by themselves, they’d have to put in a bit of effort – or at least look like it. Now they were here and he’d seen the lake again, he was even more desperate to go out by themselves – despite The Business Last Summer. In fact, maybe it was because of The Business Last Summer that he needed to do this so badly. As he lay in the darkness, consumed by thoughts of the lake, something else was niggling at him, too. Connor tapped lightly on the thin partition wall separating his room from Sam’s. “You asleep?” he whispered. “Almost,” mumbled Sam. “What? Why?” “All that stuff about the ‘storeroom’. Not. Did you see the odd looks Nick and

Ella were giving one another? Nick was trying to pretend nothing was going on, but Ell looked like she had the world’s biggest secret and was just dying to let it out. I think there’s some secret about that room, Sam. What do you think? Sam?” “Think I’m asleep, Con,” mumbled Sam through the wall. “Think any secrets are going to have to wait ’til morning.”

chapter 2

Feel the fear

Y um!” Connor said to Sam as they stepped into the lounge. The pile of pancakes in the middle of the dining table looked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and next to it there was a huge jug of maple syrup, and bowls of fresh blueberries and sliced peaches. His cousins, mums, aunt and uncle were already sat around the table, eating and chatting. “Do you have breakfast like this every morning?” asked Sam, grabbing a plate. “No, not quite,” laughed Aunty Lou. “It’s a holiday breakfast, and Nick’s got big plans for you today so you're going to need it.” “Beats Vegemite on toast any day,” said Connor, forking three pancakes from the top of the stack. “Hey, great Australian tradition,” said Jen. “Don’t knock it!” “I do think you need to be born there though, hon,” said Sal, “to appreciate Vegemite’s particular qualities. Some people – not me of course – might say it tastes absolutely disgusting.” “Really? Perhaps I can refer you to that wonderful Canadian culinary invention, poutine,” Jen suggested. “Okay, okay. Point taken,” laughed Sal. “What’s poutine?” Sam asked. “Hot chips, topped with cheese curds and covered in brown gravy. Wanna try it, kids?” Jen offered. “Yeah, nah, thanks,” said Connor.

“Yes, that’s all very interesting Aunties,” interrupted Nick, “but I think we should finish breakfast and get onto the water – run through some basic safety stuff and work on a few strokes.” He was off – Connor thought, as he bit into his pancake – on a roll, organising everyone. His cousin was in the Scouts and it kind of, well, suited him – uniforms and giving orders and all that. Connor helped himself to more blueberries and watched Nick explain the plan for the day, for the week, for the whole summer. As Nick spoke, he sat up straight in his chair, chest out and head back like he was Number One Top Eagle Scout or whatever they called them. Connor had seen him like that on FaceTime, but it was even more full-on in real life. It was Nick In Charge and you could spot it a mile away. It wasn’t that his cousin was bossy and a bit annoying sometimes, it was just that, well, his cousin was bossy and a bit annoying sometimes. A long, loud, “Yoohoo!” floated in from outside. “Anyone for soccer, or aren’t you youngsters quite up for that yet?” Gran said as she appeared in the doorway, a brand new soccer ball tucked under her arm. “Thought we’d have a match after breakfast,” she said, drop-kicking the ball across the room and out the open back door. Gran was small and wiry and about eighty not out, but apparently could still pull off a decent volley when she wanted to. She wasn’t like other grans. “Oh look at you two, bigger and more beautiful every year!” she said, giving Connor and Sam a huge hug. “And your two fabulous moms! Aren’t you lucky? And aren’t I lucky? All the Hardings in one place.” “Hi Mom,” said Sal, ing the group hug. “Lovely to see you, too. So good to be back at the cottage again.” “Gidday Grace,” said Jen, “we’ve been looking forward to this for ages.” Grandpa struggled through the door, carrying a stack of orange plastic cones and wearing a look that said, Nothing to do with me, ask your Grandmother. “Connor! Sam! Look at you two! Bigger and more beautiful every year!” he said.

“That’s right, Grandpa,” said Sam, “and all the Hardings in one place!” “Can I take those cones, Grandpa?” said Connor, stepping forward to help. “I’ll chuck them in the storeroom, shall I?” Grandpa paused and looked from Connor to Gran and back again. “Er … No … you’re okay there, son. Thanks. I’ll, er … not the storeroom. We’ll, um … worry about them later.” “Yes, yes,” said Gran, “we need them now, anyway. Storeroom’s … full. Boxes. Things. Stored things.” Everyone fell silent. Gran’s gaze dropped to her hands, which she clasped and unclasped. Grandpa busied himself with arranging the cones. Aunty Lou coughed. “How about five-a-side, Australia versus Canada?” Gran finally asked, picking up the soccer ball. Connor was itching to ask what was going on, but seeing Gran’s obvious discomfort, he knew now wasn’t the time. “We’re going canoeing, Gran,” he said instead. “Oh, of course, The Big Expedition. When are you off?” “Well, it’s not definite yet,” said Connor, looking at his uncle. “But David,” she said, turning to her son-in-law, “they’re all so sensible and good and reliable. You’ll let them go, surely?” “Grace,” he said in a tone. “You’re right. None of my business. Shan’t interfere. Won’t say another word about how responsible they are, and how capable Nick is on the water. Not. One. Word.” Gran pulled an imaginary zip across her mouth and winked at her grandchildren. Connor and Sam really missed her between trips and visits – she was way more fun than your average gran and she was always on their side. She had a way of getting around people, and Connor knew she’d be quietly working on Uncle David.

“We’ll save that soccer game for later, then,” said Gran. “How about I make the coffee,” said Jen, “and you guys can catch up?”

C onnor and Sam waited by the dock, kicking at the blanket of pine needles. The bush was so different from Australia, Connor thought. It wasn’t even called ‘bush’ – it was ‘woods’ or ‘forest’ – and the trees were all bright green and pointy. And there was water everywhere – no drought or water restrictions here! Uncle David had told him that in Ontario alone there were half a million lakes, and the biggest one in the country, Lake Superior, was bigger than the whole of Tasmania. The canoes were already tethered to the dock, gently thudding against the old grey boards. “You ready guys?” yelled Nick, bounding up from the boathouse with Ella, their arms full of life jackets and paddles. “We’ll practise going in a straight line to start and then head over to Heron Island.” Connor recognised The Serious Tone in his cousin’s voice. “Uh oh!” he whispered to Sam, “It’s Mr Canoe Instructor. Seriously? Paddling in a straight line?” “It’s actually harder than it sounds,” Sam whispered back. “Okay, listen up,” said Nick. “First thing – correct entry.” Connor couldn’t believe Nick was actually going to give them a lesson on how to get in – he thought he could probably handle that by himself. He really didn’t want to pick a fight with Nick on the first day, but man, he was annoying. “First thing you need to –” said Nick. Connor crouched by the dock and pulled the canoe close. Like, how many ways can there be to get into a canoe? He grabbed the edge and swung one foot in, the canoe tipping slightly towards him. He leant over, stretching his hand towards the other edge and the canoe tipped back. He stood in the middle trying to straighten up, but the canoe shifted back and forth quicker than he expected and

the more he tried to balance, the more it wobbled from one side to the other. Before he even had time to think, the back of his legs caught the edge of the seat and he fell bum first into the lake. Connor could just hear Nick as he fell – “… got to make sure you balance your weight really carefully or –” When Connor came up spluttering a few seconds later, his sister and cousins were doubled over laughing. “Or you can forget all that,” said Nick, “and use the Down Under method demonstrated for you by Mr Connor Harding, where you throw yourself in the direction of your canoe and hope for the best.” “Yeah, yeah. Very funny,” said Connor, running his fingers through his hair and flicking the water out. “Sorry, Con,” said Sam. “You all right? Shouldn’t laugh, but …” “Hey, Con, that was really funny,” said Ella. “Can you do it again?” Connor swam to the dock and climbed out. “Whatever,” he said, glancing up towards the cottage. It was bad enough showing himself up in front of his cousins; he really hoped his uncle hadn’t been watching, too. “It’s okay,” said Nick. “Everybody does that at least once each summer. Just … be more careful getting in next time, all right?” “Yeah, yeah,” said Connor with a sigh. It wasn’t a great start to his canoeing career, Connor thought. He did generally like to impress and so far he wasn’t even coming close. Second time around was better, at least. And Sam just slid into the front seat like she’d done it a hundred times before. “The guy at the stern – that’s the back – is in control of direction, okay?” said Nick from the back of the canoe he shared with Ella. “Drop your paddle in, pull and twist, see? It’s called the J-stroke. You use it to go in a straight line. Okay. Got that?” “Yup. Got that,” said Connor, resisting the temptation to J-stroke his cousin with his paddle.

“Cool. Follow us to the island,” yelled Nick, as he skimmed across the water in a perfect straight line. Connor dug his paddle in, pulled and twisted – and ended up facing the opposite direction to where they were headed. “Damn it!” he muttered under his breath. He shoved the paddle in again, spun the canoe around and lurched forward, vaguely in the direction of Heron Island, but it was more like a slow, wobbly zigzag than anything you might describe as ‘straight’. It shouldn’t be this hard, he thought, as he plunged his paddle in again: pull and twist, pull and twist. There was no way Uncle David was letting them go out on their own if he couldn’t even paddle in a straight line! “Maybe … a bit more gently?” said Sam hesitantly from the front. Connor concentrated hard: in, pull, twist, in, pull, twist. Gently! And little by little the zigzags stretched out, the wobble began to settle, and they started to glide – well, glide-ish – in a straight – well, straight-ish line. Enough to get them there, anyway. “Good job, Con,” said Sam, as they finally hit the island. “Yeah, not bad for a beginner,” said Nick from the shore. Connor rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

I t was a perfect day, blue and sunny, and they ate lunch on a warm, flat rock – barbecue chicken, blueberries and iced tea. You could see right back to the cottage from where they sat. Connor wished he had some binoculars so he could see it all more clearly. “See that clump of spruce trees?” Nick asked, gesturing across the island. “Christmas trees to you. In the old days, the fur trappers made beds out of them – the branches are bendy and the needles are really soft. And that’s a balsam fir next to them; they’re pretty common, too. They’ve got a really sticky gum and the Iroquois used to spread it over cuts as a kind of antiseptic.” Sam and Connor exchanged glances.

“So bro,” said Sam, smirking, “tell our cousins all about the trees back home.” “Well … we’ve got gum trees,” said Connor, “and, er, they smell nice, and there are different sorts. Oh, and you shouldn’t camp under one of them because the branches can break off suddenly and land on your tent … But I’m not sure which one.” “Nice one, Con,” said Sam, as they all fell about laughing. “Look,” said Ella, pointing, “a great blue heron. See? At the top of that jack pine. It’s got long, dangly legs and its head is kind of like an ‘S’.” The heron swooped down onto the shore and waded through the shallows, stopping and starting and peering into the marshy undergrowth. “He’s looking for frogs or mice, even a little muskrat,” said Ella. “He’ll go real still, then pounce.” Sure enough, they watched as the heron froze, then lunged into the mud. “He got him!” said Ella, laughing. “A big, fat bullfrog, I bet.” Connor grabbed another chicken drumstick. Everyone was relaxed after the slightly difficult start to the day, and he wasn’t sure when he’d get another opportunity as good as this. “Sooooo,” he said, looking directly at Nick, “what’s the story with the ‘storeroom’?” Nick shuffled awkwardly, looking at Connor and then at Sam. “Well, Mom made us promise we wouldn’t tell you,” Nick said. “She thought you might freak out or something.” “Oh! So there is a deep, dark secret then?” Sam said. “Cool! Come on. What is it? Don’t worry, we’ll tell Aunty Lou we made you say.” Connor and Sam stared expectantly at Nick, but it was Ella who couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “It’s the Curse of Grandma Maple!” she blurted. “The curse of who? ” asked Connor, turning to his younger cousin. “Look, it’s about Grandma Maple,” said Nick. “She was our great, great – I

don’t know how many – grandmother and … well, she died in that room. It’s kind of a long story, but there’s supposed to be this curse, which nobody really believes, but the room’s always been boarded up. There are big bookcases in front of the door – you can’t even see it. Ella and I only found out about it last year.” “Someone died in there?” said Sam, looking as freaked out as her aunt had feared. “And there’s a curse?” “Yeah, I know; it’s kind of creepy,” Nick said, “but it was a long time ago. And, like I say, nobody really believes in it, anyway.” “But then why board up the room?” Sam asked. Nick just shrugged. “So there’s a door down there, behind the bookcase?” Connor asked. “Yeah. Bit dumb, I know. Mom and Dad just wanted to open the room up, clear it out and forget the whole thing, but Gran is still kind of superstitious about it, and she worries, so they blocked it off.” “So … like, how did she die in there?” Sam asked, staring wide-eyed at her cousins. “It’s a mystery!” said Ella. “Ell’s right: nobody really knows,” Nick said. “It is a bit of a mystery. Great Grandpa found her, but they never really discovered exactly what happened. There was … blood – on the arms of the chair – and they say she looked, well … funny, but like I said, it’s a long story. Gran can tell you the whole thing.” “Funny? ” said Sam, “like, how funny? I’m guessing not funny like, ha ha, that just made me laugh; more funny like, seriously weird?” “Well … weird funny. Yeah, maybe,” Nick agreed. “How come they don’t know how she died? Wouldn’t it be obvious?” Connor asked. “And, like, they had doctors in those days, didn’t they?”

“I don’t know,” said Nick. “Happened years ago. You’d have to ask Gran. Come on, let’s pack up and paddle around the island.” It was mysterious, Connor thought, as he packed away the lunch boxes and loaded up the canoe. And Sam was right: if they didn’t believe in the curse, at least a bit, why go to all the trouble of blocking access to the room? Superstition was a funny thing, he supposed; made people do stuff they wouldn’t usually do.

S o,” said Sam, as she paddled away from the island with a perfect J-stroke, “there was blood on the arms of the chair and our poor dead granny looked a bit funny? ” “Yeah, I know,” said Connor, from the bow. “It’s weird, hey?” “It’s not weird, Con. It’s creepy! Like, seriously creepy. And what do they mean, ‘there’s a curse’?” “Yeah. And what is the curse?” Connor wondered aloud. “Like, do you drop dead or something if you go into the room?” “All I know is, suddenly, there’s a traumatised dead rellie, a dark family secret and a mysterious curse to think about,” said Sam as she pushed her paddle confidently through the water. “And I was worried about bears!”

chapter 3

A death in the family

T he dining table was spread with kebabs and lattice fries – huge, square chips shaped like a backyard fence and about as big. Connor piled up his plate – he was starving after all that paddling and the family soccer match – then sat down between his gran and grandpa and wondered about Grandma Maple. He didn’t want to get Nick and Ella in trouble, but he really wanted to hear the story from Gran. There was no other way really: he’d just have to come out with it. “So Gran,” he said, grabbing another kebab, “what’s the story with old Grandma Maple?” A sudden silence hit the room, kebabs suspended in mid-air, chips waiting by open mouths. Uh oh! So not such a good idea, after all. “Don’t think that’s any of your business, sweetheart,” said Sal, with a serious glare. “We just noticed,” said Sam quickly, “that something was odd with the rooms in the attic and we asked Nick about it. We made him tell us, he wasn’t going to, honest.” Gran looked white all of a sudden. She stared at Connor, then Sal, then Connor again. “Er … well, love. Um … it’s just that …” “Uh oh!” mumbled Connor to himself. He really didn’t want to upset his gran, and it looked like he might have misjudged this one. “Sorry, Gran,” he said. “Mum’s right. It’s none of my business.” “No, no, Connor, love, it’s okay,” said Gran, catching her breath. “You just took me by surprise there for a moment.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have –” “It’s fine, Connor, honestly. And you’re both older now. But it’s a bit of a long story, so let’s finish dinner and then I’ll fill you in on some family history.” “If you’re sure,” Connor said. “I am,” she sighed. “Talking about these things takes the power out of them, doesn’t it? I’ve actually been thinking lately that it’s about time I put this whole silly thing to rest.” Connor looked unconvinced. “You’ll be doing me a favour, so stop worrying and get stuck in to that enormous pile of food on your plate,” Gran said with finality.

I t all started,” said Gran, “with potatoes. Or, rather, a nasty little fungus that ate its way through the entire Irish potato crop of 1845.” Connor still felt pretty awkward, but Gran was now determined to tell them the story, so he decided he’d just listen quietly and save all his questions for another time. He grabbed his drink, settled back on the couch and stretched his legs across Sam’s knees. “Dream on brother,” she said, as she pushed them to the floor. “Fields of healthy spuds turned black and rotten, and for most people, potatoes were the main food, so when the crop failed there was nothing left to eat. Lots of people got sick and died, but some managed to scrape together enough money to buy a age to what they called the New World. Most sailed to America, but some came to Canada, and a few went to Australia – Australia was the toughest because it was so far away. “They were all squashed pretty tightly onto those boats and, because they were so sick already, disease spread quickly. They called them coffin ships because so many people died, but a few precious souls made it and started new lives. Anyway, in 1851 Mary and Michael O’Connor –”

“Oh, like me.” “Yes, like you, Connor. Mary and Michael set sail from Dublin for a new life in Canada. If people survived the journey, the government gave them a hundred acres of land to farm, which they could eventually buy. This land, where we sit today, is part of the original hundred acres belonging to the O’Connors – the rest has been sold off over the years. They grew crops, caught trout and bass in the surrounding lakes and shot deer in the forest. They missed their home, but they had a new life and a family: eight children in all.” “Eight!” exclaimed Sam. “Only six survived to adulthood,” Gran explained. “The girls got married and had children, and one of the boys was a bit of a black sheep; they called him The Bad’un.” “Did he kill someone?” said Ella, “or maybe he –” “No, Ella, he didn’t kill anyone,” said Gran, “just got himself into a bit of trouble.” “So are those photos on the wall the O’Connors?” Connor asked. “Yes, they’re your great, great, great, great grandparents and some of their children.” “So what have the O’Connors got to do with Grandma Maple?” “Well, the O’Connors changed their name – their children were Canadian, after all. Mary O’Connor is Grandma Maple.” “The maple leaf’s on your flag, right?” asked Sam. “Exactly,” said Gran. “Nothing more Canadian than the maple leaf.” Uncle David emerged from the kitchen with a plate of flat, oval doughnuts coated with sugar and cinnamon. “Beaver tails, anyone?” he offered. “Wow,” said Connor, smiling at his uncle and grabbing one in each hand. “Mums,” he said, “think you could up your game on the food front? These are

awesome.” “That’s why they invented bakeries, darling, so The Mums don’t have to,” said Jen. “Anyway,” said Sal, “Mom, tell the kids what happened next.” “One day, many years later, when your great, great, great, great grandparents were both quite old, Grandma Maple fell and hurt her hip – it was the start of summer and she’d ventured out for a walk. Grandpa Maple settled her in a chair and made her comfortable. She was quite happy sitting in that room and looking out onto the lake and the cottage across the way. There was a little girl who used to play there and Grandma Maple was fond of watching her. “Grandpa Maple walked into Rokeby to the apothecary – that’s like a pharmacy – to get her something for the pain. He arrived home a few hours later, nobody knows exactly when, to find Mary dead, in exactly the place that he’d left her. The story goes that her fingernails were red and bloodied where she’d scraped them against the arms of the heavy wooden chair, and she looked like she’d seen a ghost.” Gran paused and lifted her iced tea to her lips with a slightly shaky hand, while everyone sat, waiting. “So, there you have it,” she said briskly, “no one really knows what happened.” “Gran! ” said Sam. “But what killed her? And what’s the curse? And what happened to Grandpa Maple?” Gran sighed deeply and put down her glass. “Well, okay; there is a little more,” she itted. “When Grandpa Maple found Mary, he sent one of the neighbouring children to Rokeby to fetch the local constable and the doctor. Nothing had been stolen or upset in the cottage and there was no sign that anyone else had been there. But the fingernails and the blood … and the look of terror on her face!” Gran shook her head, looking down at her clasped hands. After a moment, she went on. “The doctor agreed that her expression was really quite shocking, but still, they had absolutely no way of knowing what had happened. They thought most likely she’d had a heart attack, but it was impossible to say what might have caused it.

“For a long time after that, Grandpa Maple couldn’t bear to go near the room. Not just because Grandma Maple had died there, but because nobody could say for sure what had actually killed her. “A few weeks later, an old tinker selling pots and pans knocked on Grandpa Maple’s door. He had a dog, a skinny little thing, who was sniffing around outside and chewing plants in Grandma Maple’s garden, which upset Grandpa Maple – Mary had loved her garden. But Grandpa Maple took pity on them, invited them into the kitchen and gave them some food. The dog wandered off, poking his nose in this and that, and before Grandpa Maple realised, the dog had nudged open the door of the room and was sitting in Grandma Maple’s chair, howling! “Grandpa Maple was a bit taken aback, but he shooed the dog out, took him back to the tinker fellow and the visitors went on their way. Now, that would have been that, except for something that happened a few weeks later.” Gran paused again, taking another long sip of her tea. “What!? ” they all said together. “A few weeks later, Grandpa Maple had to go into town to pick up some supplies and he saw the old tinker fellow walking up the street toward him. The tinker touched his hat and Grandpa Maple smiled and looked around for the dog. ‘Lost the poor fella,’ said the tinker, ‘that very night. Howled all the way home then lay down with a look of terror in his eyes and died’.” Ella was on the edge of her seat, eyes popping out as she stammered, “S-so whatever was in the room killed the dog, too, because the dog sat in the chair and –” “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation,” interrupted Sal. “It was a long time ago and no one really knows.” “Yes, your aunt is probably right, Ella, and you really shouldn’t take any notice of the ramblings of an old lady. But there was just one other thing –” “Somebody else died?” asked Ella, somehow both horrified and eager. “Nobody else died. It was just, well – nothing grew. For a long time afterwards,

the cottage garden was barren. Things withered and died and the family started to speak of a curse. Grandma Maple had loved that garden and it seems they thought she was sending a message from beyond the grave – nothing can thrive here; not anymore.” Everyone was silent and still for a moment. Connor felt the hair at the back of his neck prickle. “People were very superstitious in the old days,” said Sal, with a glare at her mother. “They thought all sorts of strange things, most of which could be explained without recourse to messages from the dead.” “Yes, of course,” said Gran. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation. I’m just not sure … exactly what it is.” The room fell silent. Connor felt bad about getting Gran to tell that story – he could see it still really bothered her. Although he was keen to prepare for their trip, there’d still be time in the evenings, he thought. Maybe he could make it up to her; maybe he could try to find out what really happened in that boarded-up room. Connor stood up, not quite sure what to do next. Then he heard his cousin clear his throat. Nick had been hovering by the door for most of Gran’s story, and Connor suspected that his cousin had plans; plans that didn’t involve hanging out in the cottage, eating more beaver tails and reminiscing. “Guys,” Nick said into the lingering silence, “we’ve still got two hours of light. Let’s get on the water, eh? I want to show you the cross bow draw. If you do it right, it can save your life.” “And if you do it wrong?” asked Connor. “You drown!” “Oh … kay then,” said Connor, standing up and catching Sam’s eye, “cross bow draw it is.”

I n half an hour they were kitted out, on the lake, and heading towards Heron

Island. “You use the cross bow draw to get clear of rapids or rocks real quick,” said Nick. “See that log sticking up? You’re going to back up and come at it real fast. When I say, you do a cross bow draw – exactly when I say, okay – or you’ll hit the log and tip.” Connor knelt low in the bow and gripped his paddle. This was all a bit more … serious than he’d planned and he really didn’t like the sound of this next activity – the hitting and tipping bits anyway – especially not right out here in the deepest part of the lake, a long way from the shore. “You okay, Con?” asked Sam quietly. No, actually, he wasn’t okay and Sam knew it. He really, really, didn’t want to do this today, but there was no way he could back out now. His mum had this saying that was really annoying: Feel the fear and face it. It was like, just because something was scary, that wasn’t a good reason not to do it. Actually, Connor had always thought it was a really good reason, but in the Harding house, it didn’t cut it. The thing was, when you’d heard it as many times as they had, it started to rub off. “Yeah, I’m cool,” Connor said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do it!” They lined up facing the log and Connor dug his paddle in, pushing hard against the water as they picked up speed. He could see the log getting nearer and nearer and could just see Nick and Ella, paddles poised, on the other side. As they got closer he wanted to slow up – they were heading smack bang into it – but he kept paddling, harder and harder, and the log was almost on top of them when he heard Nick’s shout: “Now! Cross bow draw! Now!” Connor dropped his paddle in and hauled it around the bow and, as the canoe turned, the stern clipped the edge of the log and they lifted high out of the water and Connor thought they were going in for sure. Panic shot through him and in that split second he saw himself plunging into the darkness of the lake and heading down into the depths of the water. But the canoe slapped down onto the surface, and they drifted into smooth clear water and stopped. Dead. “Wow!” said Sam, “that was close!”

“Yeah,” said Connor, catching his breath and letting his panic drift away with the waves. He was okay. They hadn’t tipped. He hadn’t drowned and, well, actually, it was kind of cool. “Thought you guys were going in for sure,” came an unfamiliar voice from behind. Connor and Sam spun around to see a girl paddling alongside them. “Hi, I’m Cara,” she said, “from the cottage at Sandy Point. You guys are from the bay aren’t you?” “Yeah, me and my brother are staying with our cousins,” said Sam. “You talk funny,” said Cara. “Are you from away?” “Australia.” “Cool! You got kangaroos there?” “Yeah, right pain,” Connor said. “Eat all the veggies in the garden.” Cara looked at Connor for a long time, then smiled. “You here for the summer?” she asked. “Yes. We’re trying to persuade my uncle to let us go on a trip by ourselves,” said Sam. “That’d be cool,” said Cara. “Mom doesn’t let me go onto Squall Lake by myself – thinks the weather’s too unpredictable. I’m only allowed as far as here.” “Well, our cousin’s the expert,” said Sam, throwing a hand in the direction of Nick and Ella’s canoe. “He’s got it all organised.” “Sounds great,” said Cara, pushing off. “Maybe I’ll see you guys around. Good luck with your trip and watch out for the bears – they eat all the veggies in the garden, you know.” Connor couldn’t help himself. He laughed out loud and gave Cara a wave.

“Shall we head back, too?” said Sam, shielding her eyes from the dipping sun. Connor looked back towards the cottage, then at the log. “We could, or … cross bow draw?” “Again?” “Again.”

Chapter 4

A really bad idea

C onnor had perfected his J-stroke – well, not quite perfected, but it was good enough, he’d decided. Sam could paddle along a knife-edge and he reckoned she could stern most of the trip anyway. They’d been on the lake straight after breakfast every day, practising their strokes and going further from the cottage each time. It was fun and all, but Connor was done practising and was ready to go – pack the gear, buy food and say goodbye. Well, that was, until he looked out the window. Water dripped down the windowpanes, and the branches of the giant maple tree just outside thrashed against the roof. “Great day for learning about the weather,” said Sal, dropping a pile of maps and books onto the breakfast table. “Uncle David’s gone into Rokeby for supplies, so you’ve got The Mums today.” There was a t groan from Sam and Connor. “But it’s, like, years since you’ve been paddling,” said Connor. “True, my love, but I did grow up here,” Sal reminded him, “and I still know a thing or two about this weather.” “And if you’re not going to let me come,” said Jen, unpacking a box of comes, “the least you can do is let me help with the preparation. Or, if you prefer, I could tag along as backup, just in case. I wouldn’t mind, honestly.” “No, Aunty Jen. Thank you for the kind offer,” said Nick, “but we’re good. We’d love to spend the day with you and Aunty Sal learning about the weather, wouldn’t we, guys?”

“Uh … yes,” said Sam. “Ella and I were just saying exactly that. What a great day for learning about the weather with The Mums.” Ella laughed. “Good,” said Sal, handing them each a com. “If you have a day like this,” she said, nodding towards the window, “you’ll need to be prepared.” Connor was really not happy with this plan. It had occurred to him that if everyone was going to be inside today, he and Sam could be outside, seeing if they could get into Grandma Maple’s room. He’d rather be doing anything, in fact, than talking about weather, but he was trying to persuade The Mums he was up to this, so maybe he should at least pretend to be interested. “So, where’s west?” asked Sal, suddenly. Sam flung her arm out in the direction of the beach before Connor had even realised the question had been asked. How could she possibly know that? Connor wondered. “Yup,” said Nick. “Good.” said Sal. “Connor, how else could you tell where west is, if you didn’t have a com?” “Er … ask Sam? Or Nick?” Sal rolled her eyes. “Yes, very funny, Connor. And if you were on your own?” “Er … oh yeah, the sun. It rises in the east,” he said, looking in the opposite direction to the beach. “Well, that’s if it isn’t raining and you can see the sun.” “Exactly,” said Sal. “Most of our weather here comes from the west and if the wind changes it means rain’s on the way.” “When the wind is from the west, it brings the weather we like best. When the wind is from the east, it brings the weather we like least,” chanted Ella. “Exactly right, Ella. Our lake has a bit of a reputation for these storms,” said Sal, “and if you’re out there when a summer storm hits, trust me, you’re in big

trouble.” And, as if to confirm what Sal was saying, a sudden swoosh of rain rattled the windows. Connor looked out and could see the whitecaps tossing around the edge of the lake. Before he could stop himself, he thought about That Business Last Summer with the rip, and that huge wave and … then he reminded himself it wasn’t the ocean. He’d be on a lake and lakes don’t have huge waves that appear from nowhere and dump you, or rips that catch you unawares and sweep you out well beyond the breakers. Lakes are flat, he reminded himself, and those little splashes out there couldn’t knock you out of a huge, heavy canoe, could they? No. Course not. He needed to stop worrying, and start focusing on finding west – though he really wasn’t sure how on earth that would be helpful.

R ain’s stopping,” said Connor, later in the day, as he watched the clouds through the attic skylight. He glanced over to Sam, who was buried in a book. “What do you reckon, Sam, check it out?” Sam peered at him over the top of her page. “Check what out, Con?” “You know.” “Bad idea, Con.” “Come on, Sam, you know you want to.” “Want to what?” said Nick, appearing at the top of the attic ladder with Ella behind. “Oh nothing,” said Connor. “Connor’s got an idea,” said Sam. “Not one of his best.” Connor glared at Sam. He hadn’t planned on telling Nick yet – he wasn’t sure how he’d take it, but it was too late now. “I … I want to check out Grandma Maple’s room,” Connor said. “No dramas. Just have a look through the window. It’ll be dark soon and your mum and dad will be catching up with The Mums and you know what they’re like once they

all get started.” Connor didn’t want to seem like he was asking for Nick’s permission. He wasn’t. But he didn’t want to start a fight over it, either. “Only if it won’t get you into trouble with your dad,” he added as an afterthought. Ella was jumping up and down. “Oh yeah! Nick, can we? Can we? That would be so fun!” Connor looked at Nick, who wasn’t saying anything. He’d put him on the spot. If Uncle David caught them, he would blame Nick, and The Mums wouldn’t be too impressed, either. There was a good chance they’d use it as an excuse not to let them go. “Actually, Con,” said Sam, before Nick could answer, “I just want … to finish my book.” Nick smiled at Sam – she was giving him an out. “If I’m grounded for the whole summer,” he said, “you guys are hanging out in this attic with me. Okay?” “No worries,” said Connor, slapping Nick on the back. “Thanks.” “So what are we looking for, exactly?” said Sam. “I don’t know. Like, some clue to how she could have died,” said Connor. “Maybe there was an escaped convict,” said Ella, “who tried to rob her and then put a cushion over her head and –” “Bit unlikely, I think, Ell,” said Connor. “They didn’t own much and Gran said nothing was stolen.” “What about a rattlesnake?” said Nick. “Lots of them around here – could have scared her.” “Or a bear?” added Sam. “I know!” said Ella, hopping up and down. “It could have been Old Yellow Top!”

“Old who?” said Connor. “It’s a Sasquatch,” said Nick. “You know, Bigfoot? A kind of prehistoric walking ape. Our local one has a shaggy, light-coloured mane, hence the name.” “So, it’s like a myth – a story, like the Loch Ness Monster?” said Sam. “They don’t know that for sure,” said Ella. “There’s a scientist who’s got plaster casts of his footprints, and some of our forests are so old, and they’re really far away, and that’s where people have seen them. I’m right, aren’t I Nick? That’s all true.” Nick breathed out a long sigh. “Yeah, Ella, actually, that is all true. There have been recorded sightings, especially in the early 1900s, when there were fewer people around in this area.” “So, like, in Grandma’s Maple’s day, maybe,” said Sam. “Yeah, maybe,” said Nick. “And,” said Ella, dropping her voice to a whisper and glancing down the ladder before continuing, “there are some people who say that the Sasquatch has special powers, and can control your mind. There’s this couple I read about online who said they saw one in the woods, and it was like it froze them with its mind. They couldn’t move or anything. Lots of people have said it’s happened to them, too. They call it ‘the dread’, because it’s so petrifying …” They all went quiet. Connor shivered. He got up and walked over to the edge of the attic and looked out through the skylight. “Gran said that Grandpa Maple put Great Granny in that room because she liked looking out the window at the cottage … and some kid across the way. So, what if she saw something – something … terrifying?” “So terrifying it scared her to death?” said Sam. A silence filled the room. No one wanted to go there – something so terrifying in the woods surrounding the cottage that just the sight of it could kill you! “Old Yellow Top would scare her to death,” said Ella, matter-of-factly.

No, thought Connor, there had to be perfectly good, sensible reason why Grandma Maple nearly tore her own fingernails off trying to get out of that chair. They just had to figure it out.

Chapter 5

What Grandma saw

N ick had insisted they venture out after dark. “Better to wait until everyone’s gone to bed,” he said. “The rain’s not going to hold off for long, and as soon as it starts again, they’ll wonder why we’ve not come in.” Much as he hated to think of being in that creepy room in the dark, Connor had to it, Nick was right. So they waited, and when – long after dinner and board games – the house was finally quiet, they gathered at the top of the attic ladder. Uncle David and Aunty Lou’s bedroom was on the other side of the lounge room, next to their mums’. Theoretically, they should be able to go out the back door, sneak around the side and check out Grandma Maple’s room without disturbing anyone. Theoretically. “Okay,” said Connor, just before they descended, “grab a torch and no talking. One squeak out of you, Ell, and I’ll chuck you in a barrel and dump you in the lake, okay?” “But what if we find –” “Ella! I’m serious. If your dad catches us he’ll kill us!” Downstairs, Connor pushed open the back door, which let out a loud, rustyhinged creeeak! He froze. “What do you reckon?” he whispered to Nick behind him. “Just do it! Quick!” He gave the door a good, hard shove and stepped out into the clearing, the others

following tightly behind. No sound from inside – so far so good. The rain was still dripping from the trees and the ground was slippery underfoot. He’d go flying if he wasn’t careful and that would definitely give the adults a heads up. He edged carefully along the back of the cottage, stepping on a huge twig that sent a great crack! echoing around. He stopped dead. “Hope your dad didn’t hear that,” Connor whispered to Nick. “Ears like a bat, my dad.” “Great. You didn’t want to mention that before?” “Hey! This was your idea, ?” “Shush, you two,” hissed Sam from behind. “No more talking. Come on!” They edged carefully towards Grandma Maple’s room and Connor shone his torch up and down the outside. Nick poked at a few boards around the window and Ella pushed the ones lower down – the paint was pretty flaky and the wood was rotten in parts, but they weren’t budging. “Here,” whispered Sam, from around the side, “I’ve got it.” Connor shone the light as Sam squeezed the tips of her fingers between two boards and slowly eased them apart. “One more should do it,” whispered Nick. Sam shifted another board and stepped back from the wall. There was now a forty-centimetre gash in the weatherboard – big enough for anyone who wanted to climb in. They all stood still, staring. “Okay, Con,” whispered Sam finally, “this was your idea – in you go.” Connor shifted from one foot to the other. “Yeah …” he said, “it was, but … well, maybe you were right, Sam. Maybe it is a bad idea.” “You’re not scared are you, Connor?” said Ella. “Because it’s not like if you go

in there you’re going to die or anything. Not like Grandma and the dog. You’ll be okay because –” “Ella. Barrel. Lake,” Connor said, sternly. In the darkness, he could sense three pairs of eyes staring at him. Yes, it had been his idea, and in the light of day, it had seemed like a good one. But now, in this moment, he wasn’t so sure. Then again, they’d come this far. “All right!” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m going in.” He leant over the boards, eased himself through the gap and crawled into the room. Sam, Ella and Nick followed closely behind him. It was small inside, especially with Grandma’s heavy, old wooden chair right in the middle, facing the window – exactly as Gran had described. Connor flashed his torch over it. It’s just a chair, he told himself. Except that when he looked at it, his skin crawled and he could feel his heart thudding. There was too much dust on the arms to show any scratch marks, and the thought of touching the chair – even to reveal its secrets – made his stomach drop. He turned his torch to the rest of the room. It looked a lot older than the main cottage – the walls were sloping and the floor had sunk into the mud leaving a big gap where the wind blew in. “Not creepy at all,” said Sam. “Just an old room,” said Connor. “It’s fine. Really. Just fine.” “Yeah, so you said, bro.” “So what are we looking for, then?” whispered Nick, “A small jar marked poison? A blood-covered dagger under the chair?” “Yeah, funny,” said Connor. “I just want to get a feel for the place – imagine what it would have been like.” “Well, she died sitting in that chair, Con,” said Sam, inclining her head towards it, “so if you really want to know what it would have been like, why don’t you have a little sit down?” Connor looked at Sam, at Nick, at Ella; and they all stared back.

“She’s right, Connor,” said Nick. “Isn’t that what we’re here for?” “Er … yeah,” said Connor. He did want to get an idea of what you could see from the chair – of what Grandma Maple might have seen, and the window was pretty small, so you really had to sit in the chair to get a proper sense of it. He wasn’t scared, it was just … dark! That was it! “Thing is, guys, there’s no point doing it tonight – too dark! Won’t be able to see a –” Bang! The front screen door hit the frame. They all heard it and froze. Someone was coming. A look of panic flashed over Nick’s face. “Dad!” he mouthed, too scared even to whisper. Nick gestured frantically at the torch Connor was holding – in his panic, he’d not noticed the others all turning theirs off. Connor pressed the button and the room went black. They all stood, frozen in the darkness, listening to the rain dripping from the leaves, and their own heavy, anxious breathing. “Really not creepy now,” Sam whispered after a moment, breaking the silence. “Okay. We’ve got to go. Quick!” said Connor. “Nick, you go first. Then Ella. Drop down and commando crawl to the end, then run around the back and through the door.” “But what about you –” Ella started. “Just go. We’ll be right behind you,” Connor insisted. And his cousins disappeared through the gap in the boards. A beam of light flashed through the trees and Connor and Sam held their breath and stood absolutely still. If Nick and Ella could crawl around to the side without being spotted, they should be okay, Connor thought. And then, well, if Connor and Sam got caught, it would be pretty embarrassing, and they’d feel like they’d let The Mums down big time, but at least Nick wouldn’t be involved. “Go? Stay?” whispered Sam. She sounded properly scared, Connor realised. Like she really, really didn’t want to get caught. And come to think of it, neither did he. “Stay,” mouthed Connor. He chanced a peep through the window, then whispered, “Give them a sec to get back in and maybe Uncle David will go back inside, too.”

They could hear Uncle David squelching through the leaves – coming closer, stopping, and coming closer again. They stood absolutely still, away from the window; like in the musical statues game they’d played as kids. The sound of Uncle David’s footsteps changed, becoming more like a crunch than a squelch. “Going to the beach,” Connor whispered. “Go?” breathed Sam. Uncle David might only be gone a few seconds – they had one chance. “Go,” Connor nodded sharply. Sam ducked through first. “Be right behind you,” Connor whispered. He followed Sam through the gap and shuffled the boards back into place. As the last one slotted in, he heard Sam’s urgent whisper, “He’s coming up from the beach. Run! Now!” Connor bolted down the side to where Sam was crouched. The back door was only a few metres away, but they were right in Uncle David’s line of sight, and if he looked up or flashed his torch in their direction, he’d see them. Sam was still crouched on her knees, ready to spring – Uncle David’s torch was getting brighter, and every second he was getting closer. “Go!” Connor whispered and they sprang up and raced the few metres to the door. Sam yanked it open and shot through; Connor followed, closing the door as quickly and quietly as possible behind him. They dashed across the playroom, bolted up the ladder and without so much as a nod goodnight, disappeared into their rooms. As he swung his own door quietly shut, Connor noted his cousins’ already closed bedroom doors across the landing. They’d made it! Connor jumped into bed and lay with his quilt pulled up to his chin, desperately trying to breathe as quietly as he could. He was certain Sam was doing the same on the other side of their shared wall. Moments later, Connor heard the back door open and Uncle David’s footsteps as he crossed the playroom floor. Then, more footsteps on the ladder and across the attic landing.

“Nick,” Uncle David hissed, tapping on the bedroom door. No answer. “Nick. It’s Dad.” “Dad?” said Nick, in his best I’m-asleep-and-why-are-you-waking-me-up? voice. “You okay, son?” “Yeah, what is it Dad? I was asleep.” “Sorry, son. Thought I heard something. Probably just the wind. Raccoons, maybe. Go back to sleep.” Connor lay there rigid, silent, waiting for the sound of Uncle David’s footsteps to disappear. It was a while before he felt safe to breathe out loud, let alone speak. Finally, Sam tapped on the partition. “Connor,” she said. “What?” he whispered back. “That was your absolutely worst idea so far.” “You think?” said Connor, smiling to himself and pulling his quilt around his shoulders. “Wait ’til you hear my next one!”

Chapter 6

Ways to die:#1

U ncle David had A Big Day planned. Connor and Sam had been up early helping set the breakfast table and generally making themselves as useful as possible, while Nick and Ella had been helping Aunty Lou – much to her surprise – chop and stack firewood. Uncle David handed Connor a huge plate of fresh blueberry muffins, straight out of the oven. “On the table, please Connor. Then I think we’re ready to eat.” “They look great, Uncle David. Hey Mum, check these out. New breakfast idea – homemade blueberry muffins?” “In your dreams, sweetheart,” said Sal. Connor shuffled the plates around and plonked the muffins in the middle of the table as everyone sat down. There had been no mention of the previous evening and, although he really wanted to know if Uncle David suspected anything, it was probably safer just to let him think they’d all been asleep. Now it was morning, Connor couldn’t quite understand why he’d been so scared, but at least they’d got into the room, and now he was even more confident his theory was right – something Grandma Maple had seen had killed her. Sasquatch maybe? Intruder possibly? Or something else completely? As soon as he got a chance he’d start looking through the old boxes lying around. He was sure the answer was in the cottage somewhere, that there were clues buried in all that stuff. And, for the time being at least, it looked like they’d got away with their investigations last night. No one was suspicious. “Anybody hear anything last night as you were going off to sleep?” asked Jen, pouring herself a coffee.

“Er … like what?” said Connor, spluttering into his muffin. Nick, Sam and Ella gave each other a quick glance across the table and then focused squarely on their breakfast. “Just creaks and bangs,” said Sal. “And Mama thought she heard footsteps, maybe. You didn’t go out again?” “No … No, we didn’t. We didn’t hear anything, did we guys?” Connor said. “No. Definitely not. No, didn’t hear a thing. Definitely not footsteps,” Nick agreed. Sal looked around the table at the four cousins and smiled. “Something you want to share, guys?” “No! We’re good, aren’t we?” said Connor. They all nodded in unison. “Because you’re acting a –” “What are we doing today Uncle David?” asked Sam quickly, before her mum could get to the end of her sentence. “Well, today I’m going to take you through canoe-over-canoe rescue, Sam. It’s the most important thing you’ll learn on this trip.” “That’s great,” said Connor, trying to appear engaged and enthusiastic. “What is it, exactly?” “You’ll see, Connor. But if you’re going to have any chance of going out by yourselves, you need to master it.” “Yes, that’s important, David,” said Jen. “Do you need a hand with that? I’m very happy to help with –” “No. Thanks Mama,” interrupted Connor. “I think Uncle David’s got this one.”

T he four cousins were in their canoes, life jackets zipped to the chin and paddles in hand as Uncle David emerged from the cottage. The sky was bright blue and cloudless, with no hint of yesterday’s weather. The lake was glistening and still, and Connor, for one, was grateful; if they were going in the water today – and he strongly suspected they were – at least everything was calm. “What I’m going to teach you today,” said Uncle David seriously, “could save your life. You mess this up and you drown, simple as that.” Man! He was worse than Nick, thought Connor. They were just going to paddle across a lake for a couple of days and, like, how could you drown in a calm, flat lake with no waves or rips? “There are lots of ways to tip a canoe,” continued his uncle. “You lean suddenly, a barrel shifts, you hit a log, you broadside. Trust me, it’s easy.” “Broadside?” whispered Connor. “When a wave hits you side on,” Sam whispered back. “So, Connor, Sam, what do you do if you end up in the water?” “Er … grab one end of the canoe and sort of swim it to the bank?” suggested Connor. “Yes, but if you’re in the middle of the lake?” “You need to turn it the right way up and get back in,” said Sam, “but I don’t know how you do that without all the water getting in.” “Absolutely right, Sam, and I’ll show you how,” said Uncle David. “When I give the order, Sam, Connor, you tip and Nick and Ella, you rescue.” “Okay,” Sam and Connor said together, trying to sound more confident than they really were. “Once you’re in the water,” continued Uncle David, “Connor, you swim to the end of your canoe and pull it around until it’s perpendicular to Nick’s. Then you push down and lift the bow over Nick’s gunwales. With me?”

“Yup,” said Sam, quick as a flash, while Connor was still trying to what perpendicular meant and what gunwales were. “Once your canoe is back in the water, you line it up parallel to Nick’s and climb back in. Questions?” Sam shook her head in that decided, determined way she had, while Connor wondered if he could ask what on earth his uncle had been going on about for the last five minutes, but he thought better of it. “No questions, Uncle David,” he said. “Let’s do it!” As soon as they were out of earshot Connor leant forward to Sam and whispered, “Perpendicular? ” “Like a ‘T’,” she whispered. “Oh yeah. Gunwale?” “Edge of the boat, here,” she said, tapping on the wood. “And, er … did you get all that stuff about which end we’re doing what?” “I got it, Con,” said Sam, “It’s cool.” “On my word, tip! ” yelled Uncle David from the dock. Connor knelt in the stern of the canoe and took a deep breath. He had to it this canoeing business was proving a bit more difficult than he’d expected. “It’s just a lake, ?” said Sam from the bow. “You’ll be fine.” Connor didn’t feel fine, and what’s more, that really annoying feel the fear and face it thing was spinning around his head again. He dropped his paddle into the canoe, took a deep breath and grabbed the gunwales. “One, two, three. Over we go!” He was surprised how easily they tipped – a slight lean to one side and the water ran over the edge and they both slipped effortlessly into the lake. He felt the cold water rush between his chest and life jacket, and a few seconds later he was

upright and bobbing around in the water looking for Sam. “All right?” Sam called, hanging onto the upturned canoe. Connor thought he’d had more fun falling off his skateboard, but yeah, he nodded; he was all right. “Point the bow towards Nick’s canoe – like a ‘T’, ,” yelled Sam. He grabbed the back of the canoe and swam it around into position. “That’s good,” shouted Nick. “Now you’ve just got to lift.” Connor looked for a handhold, some way of hauling himself up onto the upturned canoe, but there wasn’t really anything. He lifted his arms and hugged the top, trying to raise himself up from the water, but it was slippery and he lost his hold and came down with a huge splash. He tried again, this time gripping with his fingertips, but the canoe kept shifting and he was too low in the water to get up. He could see Uncle David out of the corner of his eye, and could hear the silence from his cousins. This wasn’t the plan, he thought to himself, as he jumped and slipped once more. He felt his face start to redden and his throat go dry. He launched himself up again, slid straight back down and started to feel panic creeping in. He thought how angry Nick would be if he stuffed this up, and how disappointed Ella would feel, and how it would ruin the whole summer. “Con,” said Sam quietly, “take a breath. It’s just like a boogie board only higher.” She was right, he thought. He could slide onto his board anytime – easily – and this wasn’t that different. He spread his hands firmly on either side of the canoe, kicked his legs and launched himself up. He heard the suction break with a big satisfying slurp! and felt the bow lift smoothly onto his cousins’ canoe. “Good job, Con,” shouted Nick. “Now swim around and hold us steady.” Nick and Ella hauled the canoe up over theirs, balanced it across the gunwales, and watched the water run out. They flipped it over, lowered it back onto the water, and held it tight alongside theirs. Connor and Sam jerked themselves up

and flopped in. “You did it!” said Ella. “Thought you weren’t going to for a –” A quick prod from Nick’s paddle cut her short. “Well done guys,” said Nick, clearly relieved. “Nice work.”

C onnor lost track of how many times he and Sam sank into that water and hauled themselves out again, but by the end of the day, they’d nailed canoe-overcanoe rescue . He hung his life jacket up in the boathouse and flung his arm casually around Sam’s shoulder as they walked back up towards the cottage with Nick and Ella. It had been a bad start to the day, but they’d got there in the end, and it felt good. “All right?” Connor said to Sam. “Yeah, all right,” said Sam, smiling, and draping her other arm around Ella. “Nailed it,” said Nick. “Thanks, mate,” said Connor. “Dad’s got to say yes now. He’s got no more excuses.”

H ow’d you go, guys?” said The Mums together, as the cousins piled into the lounge room and headed straight for the dining table. “There’s iced tea and your Uncle David’s famous homemade choc chip cookies,” said Aunty Lou. “Help yourselves.” “They did great,” said Uncle David. “Worked hard. Focused. Didn’t give up.” “So we can go then, Dad?” said Nick. “You said if they mastered canoe-overcanoe rescue we could go.” “That’s not actually what I said, Nick.”

“That’s what I heard. Loud and clear this morning. You going back on that now?” “Nick, I was about to say –” “Yeah, I know, let’s leave it for now, we’ll see?” Uh-oh, thought Connor, this was exactly what they didn’t need right now. Uncle David was just coming around and Nick had to wind him up like that. Man! He was so annoying sometimes! “No Nick, That’s not –” “Okay,” interrupted Aunty Lou. “Big day. Everyone’s tired. Kids, grab a plate and a drink and go –” Bang! The front door crashed against its frame as Nick slammed it behind him and stomped off into the woods. “… go hang out in the attic … and let’s just give Nick some time to cool off, shall we? And would you like to go for a walk too, darling?” Aunty Lou said, smiling at her husband. So much for no more excuses, thought Connor, as they headed through the playroom to the attic. Nick might just have given Uncle David another one.

Chapter 7

Searching for Grandma

T he general consensus next morning was that a break from the lake would be good for everybody and the cousins could do something else for the day. Connor thought it would actually be good for Nick and Uncle David to spend some time apart – them arguing all the time wasn’t going to help anything. Plus, they’d been on the lake every day since they arrived and Connor was itching to look for clues to Grandma Maple’s death. After breakfast, the adults settled themselves on the dock and started ‘catching up’. Connor never really worked out what they were ‘catching up’ about exactly, or why in fact they could ‘catch up’ for days on end, but never actually get ‘caught up’. Grandpa was the only one who seemed to find it as boring as they did – he disappeared into the woods with tools and bundles of wood. He was up to something, but nobody knew what. Anyway, Connor had a plan for the day. He left his sister and cousins in the cottage and bounded down to the dock. “Mum,” he said. “Can I borrow your laptop?” “Laptop? No! You’re not playing games at the cottage, sweetheart,” said Sal. “And besides, the internet’s hopeless.” “No. Not for games. For research.” “Research?” Jen asked. “Yeah, research. I want to find out some stuff about Grandma Maple.” Sal and Jen exchanged proud smiles and Connor squirmed. “Okay,” said Sal, “that’s fine. It’s in the back room – you know, where Aunty

Lou has her office.”

A few minutes later, Connor was sitting at Aunty Lou’s desk with Sam and his cousins hovering behind him. “We need to find out when Grandma Maple died,” Connor announced. “I think that could give us some clues to how she died.” “Try, like … Births and Deaths Ontario,” said Sam. “Yup. They record all that stuff going way back,” said Nick. “There!” said Sam, as Connor tapped away and scrolled down. “Registrations of Death – Grandma should be in there somewhere.” They waited for the page to load – and waited and waited – and when it finally appeared, Connor read aloud, “Death registrations are indexed for each year and a unique identifying number is assigned to each registration … What!?” he exclaimed. “What does that mean? What if we don’t know the year?” “Any luck?” said Sal, poking her head around the office door. “No. Just annoying. What else can we search?” “Well, you could do a different sort of search. How do you think people found out about these things before Google?” “Like in the olden days when you were little, Mum?” said Connor, smirking. His mum smiled and rolled her eyes. “What do they generally do with dead people?” “I know,” said Ella, excitedly. “They burn them and then they sweep up all the bits and put them in a jar over the fireplace, or they float them down the river or take their heart and kidneys and stuff and –” “Ella! Sweetie,” interrupted Sal. “What have you been watching?” “Churches,” said Sam. “They bury people in graves in churchyards, or at least

that’s what they did in Grandma Maple’s day.” “Exactly,” said Sal. “Thank you, Sam.” “There’s a church over in Rokeby – an old one,” said Nick. “If we’re not paddling today, we could go over and check it out.”

R okeby was a twenty-minute drive from the cottage. It was old and cutesy; it bordered a lake and looked totally different from anywhere in Australia. They parked by the small supermarket where all the cottage people went for supplies, and the four cousins and the two mums walked alongside the lake towards the church. Outside, there was an old, lopsided sign that said Rokeby Parish Church , which looked like it had been there since Grandma Maple’s day. “Why don’t you go in and see if you can find out where they keep the parish records?” said Jen. “We might see if we can find a coffee. Come find us when you’re done.” The four cousins walked through the ancient graveyard and hesitated in the small stone porch at the entrance to the church. “This is your mystery, Connor,” said Nick. “In you go.” Connor eased open the huge, creaky front door and they all filed in. Giant wooden beams formed a triangular roof above them all the way to the dark wooden altar at the back of the church. A woman was gathering hymn books at the end of a pew and looked up as they entered. “Hello,” she said. “Young visitors. I don’t get them very often. I’m Lauren, the minister here. How can I help?” “Er … Hello,” said Connor, in his best talking-to-the-principal voice, “we’re trying to find the grave of our great, great, great, great grandmother. We think it might be here somewhere, but we’re not sure. She –” he stopped himself. He really didn’t need to tell her about the bloodied fingernails, the look of terror, the dead dog and the curse – she might get the wrong impression. “She lived over in Ketchecom and died in her house there.”

“Hmm, she might be in our records,” said Lauren, popping the hymn books down. “Do you know when she died?” “No,” said Connor. “That’s the problem. We know it was sometime in the summer, after 1900, but that’s all we’ve got.” “Well,” she said, “I think your best bet is to start with the Parish Records. Have you got a few hours to spare?” She led them to the far side wall of the church, took out a big, heavy brass key and opened up a large cupboard. The inside was lined with dusty leather-bound books. “These records start at 1900 and go all the way up to the mid-nineties. Took the Parish Council a while to discover computers,” she said. “All the deaths in Rokeby and surrounding parishes are recorded here. First entry is the date, see,” she explained, opening a book in front of them and pointing, “the year, month and day – then the name of the person and the place of burial. Some of these people were buried in Rokeby – usually if they were local – but these records cover half a dozen parishes. Even if you do find her, she may not be buried here. There are a dozen old, small, gravesites scattered about Cavendish County. I suggest you grab a book each, find yourself a spot on the floor and start looking.” “Thanks,” said Connor. “You’re welcome. But they are quite old and some of them are a little fragile, so please be careful. I’ll pop in and out to check on you. If you need me, I’ll be in my office,” Lauren pointed to a door near the front of the church. “Good luck,” she smiled, then went back to her pew, picked up the hymn books and made her way up to the office. Connor grabbed the first four books and ed them around. The pages were covered in scrawly black ink that was barely legible. “We’re looking for Mary O’Connor,” he said. “Let’s hope she didn’t live ’til she was a hundred or we’ll be here all week.” “But didn’t Gran say she changed her name?” said Sam. “Yeah, you’re right,” said Connor, “She did. So we’re looking for Mary O’Connor or Mary Maple.”

They sat down on the floorboards near the altar and started trawling through the entries, page after page of names, some of which were indecipherable. “Can’t work out half of these,” said Nick. “What if it’s here and we miss it?” “We won’t,” said Connor, not feeling anywhere near as confident as he was trying to sound. “We’ll find it – we will.” It took them the best part of an hour to get through 1900–1904. The church was hot and airless and they were all struggling to stay awake. Ella was almost asleep over her book and Nick was rubbing his eyes. Connor looked at Nick and Sam slouched on the floor. “Yeah, I know,” he said, “we could be out there on the lake rather than stuck in here, but I reckon we’re close. Next lot of books?” “Sure, Con,” said Nick and Sam together. “ them over.” They got quicker, skimming down the lists and flipping over the pages and it was Nick who spotted something first. “Hey guys, check this out,” he said, pointing halfway down the page in front of him. “Does that say O’Connor or what?” Connor and Sam leant over his shoulder and tried to decipher the big, loopy handwriting. “That’s definitely an ‘M’ in the first name,” said Connor, “but it’s a bit long for ‘Mary’.” “It says Margaret,” said Sam. “Sorry. And that does say ‘Connor’, but not ‘O’Connor’. I don’t think it’s her.” “We must be getting close, though,” said Connor. “She was born in 1832 and we’re up to 1912, so she was eighty already. I thought they didn’t live as long in those days?” He handed the next two books to Nick and Sam. Connor knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep them cooped up in here all day, but he didn’t want to give up yet, not when he thought they were so close. Another half hour ed and Nick closed his book and groaned. “Well, she didn’t die in 1913,” he said, “but if I

don’t get out of this room soon, I’m going to die.” “All right,” said Connor. “Let’s just finish this lot and we’ll go, I promise.” “She didn’t die in 1914 either,” said Ella, clo her book. “And I’m hungry.” “That’s because she died in 1915,” said Sam, with an air of triumph. “July 1st, 1915 to be exact.” “Good job, Sam!” said Connor, grabbing the book from Sam’s lap. “There it is: 1915, July, 1st, Mary Agnes Maple, formerly O’Connor, buried: Cavendish County. Awesome. We’ve got a date. That’s a start, at least. Let’s check with the minister where she’s buried.” They slid the other books back into the cupboard, grabbed their stuff and headed to the front of the church. “Any luck?” Lauren asked as they gathered at her office door. “Yes, thanks. She’s here,” said Connor, showing her the open book. “Is there a Cavendish County graveyard?” “No. I’m sorry,” she said. “That just means she’s buried somewhere in the county – not here – and, like I said, there are a lot of small churchyards all over this area.” “Oh well, at least we have a date now,” said Connor, trying to disguise his disappointment. “It might help Gran some other stuff.” “Well, what I ,” said Nick, with a long, heavy sigh, “is that breakfast was a very long time ago. Hey Ell, let’s go find The Aunties!”

B ack at the cottage, they sat on the deck eating blueberries and told Gran what they had discovered. “We know when she died – the exact day,” said Connor, “and we know she’s buried around here somewhere, but we need to know more, about the family.”

“Well Connor, my love, it’s all a bit fuzzy,” said Gran. “But let’s see … four girls and two boys made it to adulthood. John, who was the eldest son, inherited the land and property, and Robert, the second son, was The Bad’un. He was a bit of a layabout and a drinker, and the story goes that he courted young Christina Cartwright from the cottage over the way. She was a good girl, and it looked like they might be married and he’d straighten himself out, but one day he upped and disappeared and was never seen again.” Grandpa wandered past them, a saw in one hand and a hammer in the other. “Beautiful day for it,” he waved, heading off into the woods. “What is he doing?” asked Sam. “Little project,” said Gran. “So where did he go?” asked Connor. “The Bad’un?” “No one knows where he ended up and for a very long time he really wasn’t spoken of at all. You see, a while later – about nine months to be exact – poor Christina had a baby girl, Daisy. She had no husband and that was terribly shameful in those days. Somehow, though – maybe a friend or neighbour took pity on them and helped them out – Christina managed to raise a healthy daughter, and Daisy grew into a fine young woman who eventually married and had a daughter of her own.” “So what about the others?” asked Connor. “Any old family grudges? Maybe Robert was in a hurry to inherit?” “I don’t think so, and there were the four girls as well, .” Gran paused and took a sip of her iced tea. “I’m very happy to tell you all this, love,” she said, “but I’m not sure where it gets you. I know the family all lived locally, either around Rokeby or Deerhorn, and I’m sure they all kept up with Grandma Maple, but I really don’t think there were any murderers among them.” “Probably not,” said Connor, “but we don’t know that for sure, do we, Gran?”

Chapter 8

Uncle David decides

T he next morning, while they were all sitting around the table after another holiday breakfast, Uncle David just came out with it. “So where are you thinking,” he said, “for your trip?” Nick nearly fell off his chair. “But I thought …” “Yeah, maybe you should stop thinking so much and listen more. If you’d let me finish my sentence the other day, I’d have told you I thought you were close to ready. Close, not ready, but let’s hear what you’ve got planned and we’ll take it from there.” Connor and Nick grabbed the map and raced back to the table faster than a summer storm on Squall Lake. Ella and Sam moved their chairs in close, while The Mums and Aunty Lou cleared away the breakfast things and made space for Nick to spread the map over the table. “First,” said Nick, “we need to get the weather forecast for the next week.” “Good thinking,” said Uncle David, nodding. “We’ll paddle past Heron Island to Sandy Flats and Black Bear,” he said, pointing it all out on the map, “then around Rocky Ridge and up through Otter’s Channel –” “Otter’s Channel’s full of rapids –” interrupted Uncle David, “and I don’t want you running any rapids.” “Yes, but the water’s pretty high at the moment – I checked – so there are no real rapids. We’ll hardly notice them.”

“Oh … kay,” said Uncle David, hesitantly. “Then what?” “We could camp the first night at the bottom of the channel and I could call from Bertram’s Cottage to let you know we’re okay.” “Yup. No cell coverage here, so that’s a good idea,” Uncle David nodded. “Day two, we paddle all the way across Ketchecom Lake into Loon Lake and explore the inlets.” “You’ll need to portage,” interrupted Uncle David again. “These guys have never done that.” “Yeah, I thought of that,” said Nick. “But we’ll have time that first night to practise, and I reckon they’ll be fine.” Connor and Sam nodded and tried to look fine about portaging, even though neither of them had the faintest idea what it was. “Yeah. No problem. Absolutely fine,” nodded Connor. “Big Gull Marina,” continued Nick, “is on the west side – second night, I can call you from there.” “You’ve really thought this through, Nick,” his dad said. “I’ll give you that.” Connor thought it was going well – better than he’d expected, in fact – but the sticking point was still to come. They’d known coming into this conversation that there was a problem; they’d talked it through and decided to stick with their plan anyway, but Nick didn’t think his dad was going to like it. “Third day, we head back, paddle down Little Loon River into Safe Haven and Squall and camp on Black Bear Island –” “No phone on Black Bear Island,” cut in Uncle David. “No,” said Nick. “But … it’ll be our last night, and we’ll be really close, just across the water and I thought …” Nick paused and took a deep breath. Connor and Sam could feel the tension in the room rise. No phone meant there was no way of making with home on their last night and that was the sticking

point. “I thought,” continued Nick, hesitantly, “maybe … you know, we could just not call. It’s just one night, and we’ll be home the next day and we can take care of ourselves –” “I know you think you can, Nick,” said Uncle David, “but lots of things can go wrong and I need to know you’re okay every day. And it’s not just about you and Ella; I have to think of Connor and Sam, too.” “But nothing’s going to go wrong, Dad. Why should it? We’ll be careful, I promise.” “I know you’re careful, son, but the lake is … dangerous. There are so many ways you could get hurt and –” “Look, Dad,” said Nick, standing up. “We can handle it.” “I know you think you can handle anything, but … I’m sorry. You’re still … well, you’re still … young.” It was as if Uncle David knew that was the worst possible thing he could say, but he just couldn’t stop himself saying it anyway. The room fell silent. Nick looked squarely at his dad. “I’m not a kid any more, Dad. Haven’t you noticed?” “Nick, please. Calm down.” This was not going well, thought Connor. He wanted to take Nick out for a minute, get him to take a few deep breaths. If Nick lost it now, that was it; they’d have no chance. The Mums had been coming in and out, pretending to tidy up. He reckoned they’d be on the kids’ side. He and Sam had always had much more freedom than other kids their age – ‘free-range parenting’, The Mums called it – but they wouldn’t override Uncle David, not when they could see how responsible he felt for everyone’s safety on the water. “Dad,” said Nick, almost pleading, “I ed my ORCKA certificate. I got Connor and Sam paddling brilliantly. We’re all good swimmers. We all know the rules.” “I know,” said Uncle David, “I know all that’s true, and I know you don’t want

to hear this, but when you’re older you will understand.” Why did adults always come up with that one? Connor wondered. There was no arguing with it; you couldn’t be older than you were! It felt like Uncle David had just been looking for an excuse all along and now he’d found one. “Fine, Dad. Whatever!” shouted Nick, and he flung open the door and stomped out of the cottage. “Have it your way. You always do,” he snarled over his shoulder. The room was suddenly silent. Connor and Sam looked at each other, wondering whether they should stay and try to smooth things over with Uncle David, or go after Nick. Uncle David was standing by the table, running his fingers through his hair, and there were all sorts of looks ing between Gran and Grandpa, The Mums and Aunty Lou. Sam gestured to Connor and they grabbed Ella and shuffled quietly out of the room. They found Nick sitting on the dock throwing stones into the lake. “Man! He’s so annoying!” he said. “I just can’t believe it. After everything … I’m sorry, guys. I messed up.” “No,” said Connor. “I can’t bear all that you’ll understand when you’re older stuff.” “Not your fault,” said Sam. “Your dad’s scared. I think he wants to let us go, but he can’t. The Mums have this thing, this really annoying saying: Feel the fear and face it. It’s like, sometimes stuff in life is scary, but you just have to do it anyway, otherwise you get stuck and you never do anything. But it goes for adults, too. They get scared as well, but about different stuff, and that’s why they don’t want kids to walk to school on their own anymore, or go to the city on the tram, or whatever. Mama says they didn’t worry so much when she was a kid, but they do now.” Sam sat down next to her cousin and gave him a shove. “Your dad’s just not as brave as you, Nick,” she said. Nick smiled weakly and shoved Sam back. “Yeah, whatever. Better think of something else to do for the next couple of weeks. Maybe we can solve Con’s mystery and find a good curse for my dad.”

“Can’t we ask him again?” said Ella, who had been standing silently on the dock. “Ask him really nicely? Or get The Aunties to talk to him? I bet they’d let us go.” Nick stood and walked over to his sister. “No, buddy,” he said, stooping down slightly and dropping a hand gently onto her shoulder. “And I’m really, really sorry you won’t get to go this time, but we will one day, I promise.” “S’okay,” said Ella, shrugging her shoulders. Nick shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the edge of the dock. The screen door of the cottage banged and they all looked up. Uncle David was heading their way. They stood in silence, waiting. “Can I have a word, Nick?” asked Uncle David. “Whatever,” said Nick, looking out across the lake. “I’ve been talking to your mom and Aunty Jen and Sal and it seems everyone thinks, well … that I’ve been –unreasonable, I think was the word used,” he sighed. “And maybe – maybe I have. I blame free-range parenting myself, but the fact is I’ve had a re-think: permission is granted for your trip – with a few conditions – but we can talk about those later.” Ella shot to her feet and hugged her dad, and Sam and Connor smiled. “Thanks Uncle David,” said Sam. “We’ll be really careful, I promise.” “I know you will, Sam.” They all turned to look at Nick, who was still staring at the lake. “Nick?” said Uncle David. Nick turned around slowly and looked at his dad. “Cool. Yeah … Thanks, Dad,” he said. “So when can we leave?” said Sam, “We should go online and get those weather forecasts and we’ll need to work out food and go shopping in Rokeby, won’t we?”

“Yes, Sam. Three or four days, depending on the weather?” Uncle David suggested. “I’ll leave you to it.”

T hey waited until Uncle David was back inside the cottage. “You did it!” said Connor, grabbing Nick in a headlock and almost pushing him to the ground. “You did it!” “Whoa!” said Nick, shaking his cousin off. “Yeah, we did it. And I bet The Aunties had a quiet word, too. I really didn’t think he was going to let us go after all that –” “Well, he did,” said Sam, “and we’re going! Let’s get those weather reports and start packing!” Connor walked back up to the cottage behind his cousins. What was that other annoying saying his mums had, Be careful what you wish for? He’d been wishing for this trip for years, and now it had come true. He wanted to do it, he really did, but whenever he thought about last summer, he felt sick – actually sick – like he was going to vomit. And feeling like he was going to vomit wasn’t even the worst part; feeling like he might panic, or freeze, or freak out, or just stuff up and let everybody down – that was the worst part.

chapter 9

Belly buttons and s'mores

N ick had wanted to leave the day after they got permission, but the adults had other ideas. The cousins spent a few days working out their menus, making detailed lists, and paddling around the lake for last-minute extra practice. The Mums insisted on a swimming test and set up a course around the buoys. Nick could have done it ten times and still not have been out of breath and little Ella was surprisingly good – but they did spend most of their summer in the lake. Sam was steady and calm and competent and Connor tried to be all of those things and failed. But he did get around the course without freaking out; it was flat, no waves, no rip – as long as he ed that once they were out on the lake by themselves, he’d be fine. The day came, finally, and they assembled in the boathouse. Nick, chest out, head back, stood in front of a wall of shelves lined with equipment – camping pots and pans, plastic boxes, ropes, tarps, bailers and a ton of other stuff. “Come closer,” he said, pinning a piece of paper to the wall. Connor caught Sam’s eye and smirked. “This is The List. We take everything that’s on it and nothing that isn’t. Got that? Weight and space are really important.”

“So, do we, like, get a bag each for our stuff?” asked Sam. “Sort of,” said Nick. “You get a stuff sack.” “Stuff sack?” “That’s the little bag with a drawstring that your sleeping bag is squished in,” explained Ella. “It’s waterproof, so you don’t have to worry if you capsize.” If they capsized, Connor thought, dry clothes would be the least of his worries. Nick grabbed a small black plastic bin bag from the shelf and lined one of the stuff sacks. He picked up a sleeping bag and shoved it into the sack, squeezing out all the air with his fists so it was wedged in as tight as possible. It left a space about the size of a soccer ball. “You have to fit everything in there except your shoes,” he said, holding it up for Connor and Sam to see. “You’re kidding,” said Sam. “There’s no way – that’s less than I take to school most days.” “Yup. Then we stick all four sacks in this big green pack with the camping gear, and all the food and cooking stuff goes in this blue barrel. Water bottles, snacks, sunscreen, maps, and any other stuff we need while we paddle goes in the two small daypacks. Got it?” “Aye, aye, Captain!” said Connor. If Nick noticed the sarcasm, he chose to ignore it. “Good. Connor, grab the tent and check the poles and pegs. Sam, check all the flashlights, batteries and the first aid kit. Ella, get the cooking stuff: pots, plates, mugs. I’ll sort the stove and fuel bottles.” There was a flurry of activity as everyone followed Nick’s orders. Connor’s head was buzzing; they’d spent so long talking about this trip and now it looked like they were actually going to do it, and that meant navigating by themselves – he still felt pretty useless with a com – and he was half asleep the day they did forecasting. And what if there was a storm or an accident? He reckoned he was okay doing canoe-over-canoe by the cottage, but he wasn’t so sure about doing it in a storm. But then, he did have Sam as backup.

“Okay, guys, listen up,” said Nick. “You’ve got to carry everything, , so you don’t want any extra weight. It means we have to be really careful measuring out all the food. Dad did a big shop for us, but we have to sort it into days. It’s tricky, but fortunately my little sister is an expert. Ella?” Ella handed them each a printed chart and they lined up in front of a long trestle table piled high with a small mountain of food.

“Looks gooood!” said Sam, “but what are belly buttons and s’mores, exactly?” “And bannock?” asked Connor, “and gorp? ” “I’ll explain all that after,” said Ella. “The thing about the food is that you’ve got to take enough, but you just can’t keep adding stuff, because you have to carry it all. You have to work out how much each person will eat, then throw in a bit extra for emergencies and that’s it. It’s hard at first, but Nick and I have done it a few times now.” For the next few hours, the cousins measured out milk powder and juice crystals and spooned them into bags; they estimated out how much avocado and salami each person would eat at each meal and divided them into portions; and they squashed the bagels and muesli bars so they were almost flat and took up less room. “Man! I’m looking forward to this trip,” said Connor, loading the bags into the barrel. “Maybe we could just paddle over to Heron Island for four days and eat!” They all laughed. “Great job,” said Nick. “Nice one, Ella. Last thing to do is put your personal gear into your stuff sack, and the stuff sack into the green pack. Then we’re done.”

D oesn’t really take that long to pack,” said Sam, looking at the tiny pile of clothes on the attic floor, “when it all has to fit into something the size of a lunch box.” “Good,” said Connor, “’cos there’s something I want to do before we go.” Sam looked up from her clothes and stared squarely at her brother. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a dead granny, would it?” she said.

CHAPTER 10

Only one way to find out #1

C onnor pointed towards the piles of stuff lining the wall of the attic landing. “I had a bit of a look in here yesterday,” he said, dragging two old cardboard boxes into the middle of the landing. “There’s loads of stuff in here – papers, photos, documents – all ancient. Thought we could have a proper look through them.” “Sure,” said Sam, rolling her eyes. “What exactly are we looking for?” “Well, Grandma Maple died on July 1st 1915,” Connor said, “so anything that happened around that time – some event, an accident – and anything about the family – there were four daughters and two sons.” “So, a letter that says, Dear Granny, hand over the family silver now or you’re cactus?” “Yeah, something like that,” laughed Connor. “Or a newspaper article about a convicted murderer escaped from Rokeby jail?” “Okay. I get the point. Let’s just see what’s here, yeah?” said Connor, reaching into one of the boxes. “I’ll start with these bundles.” Sam sat down next to a box and peered inside. “I’ll look through these photos, if you like. There’s a bunch of old albums.”

I t was a good half an hour before they looked up. “Never really thought about it before,” said Sam, dropping the last album back into its box, “but there’s four generations between us and Grandma Maple. We could be related to half of Rokeby.”

“That’s a bit scary,” laughed Connor, arranging stacks of papers around himself on the floor. “It is. So what’ve you got?” “I’ve got a batch of letters from some guy called Stephen to his girlfriend, May – his sweetheart he calls her – looks like he was fighting in the war. And then there’s a letter from a Captain Berry to her saying how Stephen died in action and they were sending all her letters back.” “Oh. That’s sad,” said Sam. “Very sad, but doesn’t help us,” said Connor, dropping the letters back in the box. “There’s a marriage certificate for Mary and Michael O’Connor, but it’s so scrawly you can hardly read it.” “A death certificate?” interrupted Sam. “For Grandma Maple?” “Yeah, no. Thought of that, but can’t see one.” Connor picked up another small pile of papers. “There’s some stuff from the Cavendish County House of Industry, whatever that was.” “Maybe it was like a workhouse,” said Sam. “You know, where you went when you were really poor and had nowhere to go. They had them in England, and I think in Australia, too.” “Maybe that’s where The Bad’un ended up,” said Connor. “Probably,” Sam agreed, peering into the box in front of Connor. “What’s this?” she asked, holding up a brown, cylindrical leather case. It was about the size of her hand, with a clasp to fasten the lid, and a thin leather strap attached. “No idea. Check what’s inside,” suggested Connor. Sam slipped the clasp open and prised off the lid. “Empty,” she said, tipping the case upside-down to demonstrate. “Probably used to carry gunpowder,” Connor joked. “Or poison.”

“Or maple syrup.” They both laughed. Sam dropped the case back in the box. “Well,” she said, standing up and stretching her arms above her head, “all I found were lots of soldiers and loggers, some shopkeepers and a schoolteacher, and it looks like they hunted and paddled and had picnics and went to church, but I don’t think they murdered anybody.” “Yeah, you’re probably right,” said Connor. “Wait – what about this?” Sam said, reaching for a small black book wedged in the side of the box. “A diary?!” Connor leaned forward as Sam flipped the book open to the middle. Drawings. Loads of drawings … of the cottage, flowers, trees, the lake. He rocked back onto his heels, deflated. “Sorry, Con,” said Sam, still flipping through the pages. “But look.” She held the book out to him, open to the first page. Connor took the book. There, in scrawly, old-fashioned handwriting, he read Mary Maple. “Grandma Maple? She drew all these?” “Looks like it,” Sam said. “Wow. We should give it to Gran. She’d love to have it.” “Yeah, definitely. But it still –” “Doesn’t help us,” Connor finished, setting the book aside. Ella appeared at the top of the ladder. “Hi guys,” she said. “What you doing?” “Trying to find out what was going on around here when Grandma Maple died,” said Connor. “When was it again?” Ella asked, climbing into the attic. “July 1st, 1915,” Sam replied. “Oh. Canada Day, you mean?”

“What?” asked Sam and Connor. “Canada Day. You know … Hang on. Back in a sec.” Ella disappeared down the attic ladder and returned a minute later proudly carrying a tattered old pennant flag. “See,” she said, pointing at the date printed on the flag. “Look at the date. July 1st. That’s Canada Day, when Canada became a country – we did it at school. Don’t you have Australia Day?” “Yeah, we do,” said Connor, “January 26th. It’s when the first Europeans arrived. Bit controversial – some people think ‘Invasion Day’ is more accurate.” “But back to Canada Day,” prompted Sam. “So, stuff always happens on that day, right?” said Ella. “It’s a holiday. Would’ve been the same in Grandma Maple’s time. There’d have been a fair or fireworks or something …” “Smart thinking, Ella,” said Connor, making his way over to the stack of newspapers against the wall. He heaved a pile into his arms and brought them back to Sam and Ella, plonking them on the floor between them. “What’s this?” asked Sam. “The Rokeby Independent,” Connor said, grabbing the rest of the papers. “Loads of them. Published weekly. Different dates here, from what I can see, but we might be lucky.” Connor fetched another armload and dropped it next to the first, and they each grabbed a batch and started flicking through. The pages were big and awkward, and covered in columns of dense, tiny text that you could barely read. There didn’t seem to be any order to them, or any obvious reason that these, and not others, had been kept. “Maybe they just picked up a copy each time they went to town,” said Sam. “Hey, here’s something,” said Ella, leaning over the pile to pick up a paper. “Town comes out for Dominion Day – that’s what they used to call it.”

“Check the date,” said Connor. “Oh, 1927, no good. But look, here’s another one: 1917 – getting closer. Maybe they kept them because it was a special day – you know, like a souvenir.” “Aah! Here it is,” said Sam, “Rokeby Celebrates Dominion Day – July, 1915.” “Sick!” said Connor. “What’s it say? Read it!” Sam spread the paper out on the floor and started to read. “The people of Rokeby did their town proud this Dominion Day, turning out in large numbers to celebrate the Confederation of our Great Nation despite the threat of inclement weather. The Mayor, Mr Jason MacSheen, after an eventful journey, arrived just in time to open the Grand Fair. Our esteemed Mayor spoke proudly of the townspeople and especially of our brave young men who are defending our freedom in far off lands –” “Let’s have it,” said Connor, grabbing the paper from Sam. “What else does it say?” He flicked through the pages, skimming the headlines. “Archibald Campbell won the caber toss and Matthew Ford won the greasy pole event – whatever they are. The annual Sandy Flats Paddle and Safe Haven Sailing Race were postponed until next month … The mayor’s daughter, Lucy, took out first prize for the three-legged race and the wheelbarrow race. Best Fruit Jam went to Eva Hayes and Best Victoria Sponge to Cassie Nichols.” “Sounds like a crazy day,” said Sam, “full of murderers itching to bump off poor old Granny.” “Yeah, yeah,” said Connor, flipping the page and running his fingers down the columns. “Cavendish Brass Band performed … a sizeable donation was made to the War Relief and Charity Fund … blah, blah.” Sam grabbed it back and flicked through the last few pages. “No escaped convicts, I’m afraid, Connor, but – hang on,” she went quiet suddenly, then looked up at Connor and Ella with wide eyes. “What?” they said together. “Pre-Cambrian shield man seen by two prospectors,” Sam read out, her voice

barely more than a whisper. “What’s a –” Connor started, but Sam waved him quiet and continued to read. “Mr C. Jennings and Mr N. Murphy claim they have seen the ‘Pre-Cambrian shield man’ while working on their mining claims north of the Tory Hill mine, near Baderum. This is the second time in seventeen years that the hairy ape-like creature, nicknamed ‘Old Yellow Top’ because of its light-coloured mane, has been seen in the district,” Sam paused and looked up, her face pale. “No way,” said Connor. “There’s more: The two prospectors said they were taking soil samples when they spotted what looked like a bear picking in a blueberry patch. Mr Jennings, who threw a stone at the creature, said, ‘It kind of stood up and growled at us, then ran away. It was sure like no bear I have ever seen. Its head was kind of yellow and the rest of it was black, all covered with hair.’ And Mr Murphy added, ‘Not much scares me, I can tell you, but I was right shaking in my boots at the sight of him.’ The first report of the creature was made in September 1906, by a group of men in the same area.” They were all silent. Connor felt his hair standing on end. “So, there was a Sasquatch sighting the week Grandma Maple died,” he said quietly, not quite wanting to believe it. “It could have been, you know, like, a hoax,” Sam suggested, without conviction. “Do you really think Grandma Maple saw Old Yellow Top?” Ella asked, excitedly. “And that he paralysed her in the chair with his mind?” “No,” said Connor firmly. “Definitely not. A psychic Sasquatch is even more ridiculous than an ancient curse. And besides, that wouldn’t explain the tinker’s dog.” Ella looked disappointed. “Maybe the dog caught rabies from Old Yellow Top?” she offered. “I don’t think so, Ell,” Connor said, with more confidence than he felt. “I do

think Grandma Maple saw something that scared her to death, but not a giant, imaginary beast with mind-control powers.” “The thing is,” said Sam, piling the newspapers back into the box, “if your theory is right, then we need to know what she could see from her chair, and the only way to find that out is –” “Yeah, I know,” interrupted Connor. “I know,” he repeated quietly. He stood up and stared at all the stuff. Maybe it was crazy to think he could find out what had happened so long ago, and what did it really matter, anyway? But Connor knew his Gran still worried about the curse, and he felt responsible for stirring it all up again. If nothing else, there was a perfectly good room down there that nobody used. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if he could lay the mystery to rest? They’d come so far: they had the date of Grandma Maple’s death, and they knew her grave was somewhere close by – even if they didn’t know exactly where. No, he thought, he wasn’t ready to give up, even if that meant he’d have to – well, sit in the … “It’s not like you’ll die,” said Ella. “I mean, if you sit in the chair. Well, I’m pretty sure you won’t.” “Thanks Ell,” said Connor, smiling at his cousin. “That’s very reassuring.” But luckily, they were going on expedition tomorrow so he was off the hook. For the time being, at least.

CHAPTER 11

Ways to die #2

T hey were Good to Go. Packed. Checked. Double Checked. Uncle David had announced he wanted everybody in the cottage for A Final Briefing after dinner. They all assembled around the dining table: the four cousins, The Mums, Aunty Lou, Gran and Grandpa and Uncle David. “Okay,” Uncle David said, “give me one danger you might face on this trip.” “Dangerous like dead, or dangerous like, hurt real bad?” asked Ella, who clearly had a long list in her head. “Nothing fatal, Ella, just something your cousins might not have thought about.” “Poison ivy – do they have that in Australia? Leaves of three, let it be,” chanted Ella. “Good, Ella. They don’t. Poison ivy,” said Uncle David, “causes a painful, itchy rash that can turn into nasty blisters.” “Nice,” said Sam. “Anything else that can kill us? Sorry, cause serious injury?” “Black nightshade – that’ll kill you!” Ella announced. “The berries look really tasty, and if you eat them, they’re sweet, and a big handful will paralyse you, then kill you!” “Thanks Ella, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen black nightshade in these parts,” said Uncle David. Ella was ready to protest, but Uncle David moved on, “Still, Ella’s right: don’t eat anything from a plant unless you’re certain you know what it is. Okay, we’ve covered plants. Anything else? Connor?”

“Snakes?” asked Connor. “Nothing like you get in Australia,” said Uncle David, “but we’ve got a few rattlesnakes, and water snakes are quite common –” “Water snakes have four rows of teeth,” interrupted Ella, “and when they bite, they rip into your flesh and inject you with this stuff and you slowly bleed to death.” “Well, not quite, but thank you, Ella,” said Uncle David, shaking his head. “And bears?” said Sam. “You need to be careful, certainly, but bears will actually be scared of you. If you see one, make as much noise as possible – bang a pot lid, shout, jump up and down – and they’ll wander off.” “And what if they don’t … wander off?” asked Sam. “What if they hang around – invite themselves for dinner?” Uncle David smiled. “They won’t. They’re looking for food, and as long as you’re really careful, you’ll be fine. Pick up all your scraps, dump the dishwater away from your site, and never keep food in your tent – unless you want a latenight visitor.” “Cool,” said Nick, who’d been fidgeting the whole time, and was clearly done with this conversation. “All right, Dad? Done here?” “Just the basic rules, okay: life jackets at all times, no rapids, no racing, keep an eye on the weather, and look after Ella for me. Now, before you go, I think The Aunties have something for you.” Sal and Jen grabbed four packages from behind the couch and brought them over to the table. “For you, Nick,” said Jen, sliding a small square box across the table, “as First in Charge.” Nick smiled. He clearly liked that, First in Charge. He picked up the box, cradled it in his hand and opened the wrapping. Inside was an old-fashioned wooden box

with a brass clasp on the lid. He flipped it open. “Awesome, Aunty Jen,” he said, breaking into a huge smile. “Thanks so much.” “Well, don’t keep us all in suspense,” said Aunty Lou. “What is it?” “It’s a proper com – like, an old-fashioned one – it’s brass and it’s got a sight that lifts up for taking bearings,” Nick said. “Glad you like it, Nick,” said Jen. “To be honest, I wanted to keep it myself, but that got vetoed. And we just want you to know we’re completely confident you’ll guide everyone safely back home.” “Thanks, Aunties. I will. I promise.” Ella was trying not to bounce up and down in her seat, and failing. “Here you go, sweetheart,” said Sal. Ella grabbed her present, tore off the wrapping and held it up for everyone to see. It was a top-of-the-range headlamp, with multiple settings, including an emergency flash. She slipped it over her head, switched it on and tested the emergency setting on the assembled group. “Yup. That works,” said Sal, shielding her eyes. “And if you do bump into Old Yellow Top, you’ll scare the life out of him with that.” “Thanks, Aunty Sal and Aunty Jen. I love it.” “You’re very welcome, hon. Just keep it on once it gets dark and everyone will know where you are.” “Your turn Sam – you can stop nicking mine, now,” said Jen, sliding a small, neat package in her direction. “Thanks Mama,” Sam said, peeling away the wrapping to reveal a brown leather pouch and a bright red Swiss Army Knife. “Epic! And it’s a Huntsman,” she said. “They’re the best. Thanks Mum. Thanks Mama. I’ve wanted one of these for ages.” “You’re welcome, sweetheart. And if you think the boys can be trusted, you can

let them look at it now and again,” said Sal. “Last but not least, Connor,” said Jen, sliding his present across the table. Connor grabbed the package. It was squarish, solid. “Thanks The Mums,” he said, tearing off the paper. He flicked open the black case inside, and pulled out a pair of fully waterproof, adjustable binoculars. “Perfect! Thanks Mama. Thanks Mum. They’re awesome.” “No worries,” said Jen. “They’re small – compact, but with high magnification. Apart from bear spotting, we thought they might come in handy for The Great Unsolved Family Mystery.” She grinned.

T hey said goodnight, grabbed their presents and headed up to the attic. Ella took herself straight to bed. Nick grabbed The List and went through it one more time. “We’ve got everything, I know,” he said, “but … you know?” “Yeah, we know,” said Connor and Sam, smiling. “We’ll be fine,” Nick said. “I know Dad goes on all the time, you know, about it being wilderness and every year someone gets into trouble – lost or hurt or killed, even – and I know that’s really annoying, but it’s actually true. But it’s not going be us, right?” “Right,” said Connor and Sam. “I’ve checked the forecast – clear for the next few days, and possible showers after that. It’s like your mom just said, I’m First in Charge, kind of like the leader, aren’t I? I have to make sure we all get back okay.” “We will,” said Sam. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to go wrong.”

C onnor put his new binoculars on his bedside table and climbed into bed. At home, he tried not to think about things that worried him at night – darkness

always made them seem worse – but for some reason he couldn’t help it tonight. He tapped on the wall. “Still awake, Sam?” “Yeah, what?” “Do you … everything? You know, all that rescue stuff, and the navigating and that?” “Yeah, I think so.” “Good, ’cos I don’t. Think I should have paid more attention.” “Bit late now, Con. We’ll be fine – there’s four of us, .” “Yeah. I know. You’re right. We’ll be fine. I’m not worried. Really. I’m not.”

CHAPTER 12

Alone at last

T here’s dew on the grass,” said Ella, as Nick and Connor lowered the barrel into the first canoe. “And that means … ?” asked Sam, ing two paddles and a bailer over to Connor. “When the grass is dry in the morning light, look for rain before the night. When the dew is on the morning grass, rain will never come to ,” chanted Ella. “Means it’s going to be a good day – dry, sunny,” said Nick, grabbing the big pack and wrestling it into the second canoe. It seemed like ages ago, Connor thought, that he and Nick had come up with the idea of going on a trip by themselves. The Mums were pretty open to it from the start, but they still needed a little convincing. It was Uncle David who really wasn’t keen, and Connor couldn’t quite believe they’d actually managed to bring him around. They’d wave goodbye to everyone and not see them for four adultfree days – and out there in the wilderness, too. They’d gone over everything a million times. They’d practised all the techniques and knew all the safety stuff. Connor didn’t want to be scared anymore; he wanted to be confident in the water again, like he was before last summer. But even with all of that niggling at the back of his mind, he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing right now. “Look at them,” whispered Nick to Connor and Sam, nodding at the line of adults hovering outside the cottage. “They’re all kind of … twitchy and nervous.” He shook his head. “I know,” said Sam. “Do you think they’ll be okay?”

“I’m worried about them,” said Connor. “I don’t think they’ll make it through the four days.” He grinned. “Maybe we should get them to call us each day,” said Sam, “just to let us know they’re all right.” “Come on,” said Nick, laughing. “That’s everything loaded up. Let’s go say goodbye and get the hugging and kissing over.” I t didn’t take long to put some distance between them and the cottage. Finally, finally, they were past Heron Island and out of Uncle David’s range. The water was perfectly still and the sun was just starting to warm up. They paddled slowly, sending huge, circular ripples across the lake. Ella spotted a blue jay taking off across the water and they watched an otter slide and splash at the water’s edge. As they reached the end of Maple Bank, Nick beckoned Connor and Sam over and they linked canoes. He ed around the bag of gorp. “Why’s it called gorp?” Sam asked, taking a handful of the mixture. “It stands for good old raisins and peanuts,” Ella explained, reaching for the bag. Connor tossed a huge handful into his mouth. “But this has M&Ms and pretzels,” he mumbled, spraying Nick with M&M-coloured spittle. “Yeah, it’s evolved. Unlike your table manners,” said Nick. “Fair point,” said Connor, smiling and wiping his mouth. “Sorry.” Nick took the bag back and sealed it. They floated in silence for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the tsick-a-dee-dee song of the chickadee. It was as if they couldn’t quite believe they were out by themselves and they needed a few minutes to take it all in. “Hey, there’s a canoe,” said Sam suddenly, pointing towards Sandy Flats. “Isn’t that Cara?” Connor pulled out his binoculars and looked. “Yeah, she’s coming over.” A few minutes later, Cara paddled up alongside them and grabbed the gunwale of Connor and Sam’s canoe. “So, you managed to persuade your uncle to let you

go out on your own.” “Yeah, four days – no adults,” said Connor. “Awesome. You going up through the channel?” “The what?” said Connor, looking blankly at Cara. “Otter’s Channel into Ketchecom,” she explained. “Yeah,” said Nick, “this afternoon.” “If you can run them, the rapids are really cool, like, seriously fast. I did it with my mom.” “Yeah?” said Nick, sitting up and taking notice. “Keep to the left as you go through,” said Cara. “There’s a couple of big rocks and a whirlpool about halfway down, and there’s a fallen maple at the bottom. You’ll need a real quick cross bow draw to stay clear.” “Cool,” said Nick. “We’ll check it out. Thanks.” “Are you guys still around at Labour Day?” Cara asked. “Yeah, it’s just before you go,” explained Nick to Connor and Sam. “Labour Day is like the official end of summer – when everyone closes up their cottages.” “We’re having a Labour Day picnic,” said Cara, “and we’re inviting everyone around the lake. They used to do it in the old days and we’re kind of reinventing it. You should come.” Cara pushed away from Connor and Sam’s canoe and turned back towards the bay. “Don’t drown in the rapids,” she said, smiling. “You’ll get me into trouble.” “We’ll try not to,” said Connor. “Be very annoying. See you at the picnic; thanks for the invite.”

A s they pushed apart, Sam said, “Wasn’t one of your dad’s rules not –”

“Running rapids?” interrupted Nick. “Yeah, I know, but … these might not be … rapids exactly. They might just be … ripples.” “Ripples? ” said Sam, raising her eyebrows. “Yeah,” said Nick, “Not quite … rapids.” “Oh, because your dad never said anything not running ripples, did he?” “Exactly,” said Nick. “Some rapids are really safe and some –” “Aren’t?” finished Sam. Nick smiled. “Race you to Black Bear Island?” he said, gripping his paddle across his chest. “Any time,” said Sam, plunging her paddle into the water and taking off. As Connor ed in, he couldn’t help wondering how many of Uncle David’s rules they were going to break on Day One …

W ell? What’s the verdict, then?” said Sam, as they stood on the bank looking down through Otter’s Channel. “Rapids or ripples?” “Cara was right; they’re awesome!” said Nick, clambering onto a boulder for a better view. “And you can see those rocks she was talking about, but … we should be able to stay clear of them.” Connor, Sam and Ella climbed up and stood next to Nick. He had his Mr Canoe Instructor face on again, eyes darting from the bank to the rocks, and back again. “Soooo,” asked Connor, eventually. “What are we actually looking at? What’s the problem with rapids, exactly?” “You can die in them – that’s the problem,” said Nick. Connor caught Sam’s eye, but said nothing. “Rapids don’t look much from the bank, but trust me,” continued Nick, “when you’re on the water, they are way, way bigger.”

Great, thought Connor. Just when he was beginning to feel like he might actually get through this trip without drowning, his cousin has to go all life-and-death on him. He hadn’t really thought about rapids before, but now he’d seen them, well, they were kind of like waves. Actually, a lot like waves. They jumped down from the boulder and trekked further into the channel. Nick took a good long look at the whirlpool and the banks on either side. “Problem is, if you hit a rapid at the wrong angle,” he said, “you’ll tip and there’s no canoeover-canoe rescue in this sort of water.” “You can get stuck under your canoe,” said Ella, “or you can hit your head on a rock and get knocked out, or you can get sucked into the whirlpool, and there was this kid once who got his foot caught and he couldn’t get free and –” “Yeah, I get it, thanks Ell,” interrupted Connor. “We’re walking around then,” said Sam. “Well … we don’t have to,” said Nick. “Nick! Ella just described ten different ways you can die running rapids,” said Sam. “It’s crazy. Why would you risk it?” “Because it’s fun, Sam,” said Nick, “and looking at these rapids, I think they’re okay.” Connor shoved his hands deep in his pockets and kicked at the rock. “Look, honestly,” said Nick, “these are okay. They’re really good. We can run them. I promise they’re fine. I’m not going to kill us on our first day, am I?” Connor felt sick. He wanted to run them, of course he did, but his cousin had just given him a long list of ways you could drown doing this, and he knew what almost drowning felt like; he wasn’t keen to try it again. He wanted to say no, that it was a crazy idea, that there were a million good reasons not to, but that stupid feel the fear and face it thing was buzzing around his head again. Just once he’d like to feel the fear and not face it. Be a nice change – but it wasn’t going to be today. He caught Sam’s eye. “I don’t think we should do it,” said Sam.

“Ah, come on,” said Nick. “Don’t go all chicken on me, now.” “No, really. It’s not safe. I don’t want to do it.” Connor shuffled his feet and let out a long, deep breath. “We’ll do it,” he said. “We can’t if Sam doesn’t –” “Sam does. Sam does want to do it,” said Connor. “She’s not saying that because she’s scared.” “Why? I don’t get it.” Connor paused. He had hoped to get through this trip without telling his cousins about what happened last summer. The last thing he wanted was Nick feeling sorry for him. And he didn’t want him to stop doing stuff because he thought Connor would be scared. But he had to say something – it wasn’t fair on Sam. “We do want to do it, both of us,” said Connor. “Sam’s just … well she’s … It’s not her who’s scared. It’s … me.” “What? ” said Nick, completely confused. “Why?” “Something … happened, last summer. But can we maybe talk about it later?” asked Connor. “I’m okay to do the rapids, honest. And I’ll tell you about the other stuff tonight, yeah?” “Oh … kay,” said Nick, looking at Sam. “You all right with this?” “If Connor’s okay, I’m okay,” said Sam. “All right then,” said Nick. “If you’re both cool with it, let’s run some rapids. But if it comes up with my dad, we say ripples, okay? Nobody says the word rapids. We floated down some nice, gentle ripples.”

chapter 13

Ripples, not rapids

F ifteen minutes later, they were in their canoes at the top of Otter’s Channel, Connor at the stern and Sam at the bow, her paddle wedged into a boulder to stop them being swept away. Nick was holding fast to a low, overhanging branch. Beyond them, the water roared, its surface white and choppy. Connor realised he hadn’t been in such wild water since last summer. “As soon as I let go,” Nick yelled, “we’re going to disappear – see how fast it is already! Keep low and try to follow the flow of the rapids.” “Got it!” yelled Sam. “You’re not going to tip – but if you do, hang on to a rock or a branch and try to get to the bank. Follow where we go, as long as we don’t tip, which we won’t, but if we do, don’t follow us! And don’t forget the cross bow draw at the end.” “Yup. Got all that,” shouted Sam, leaning back against the pull of the current. And then Nick let go of the overhanging branch and Connor and Sam watched them take off into the middle of the channel and speed through the water towards the rapids. “Look how far they are already, and they’re hardly paddling,” said Sam. “I see them,” said Connor, his throat suddenly tight. “You ready?” “You sure you’re all –” “Too late now,” yelled Connor, catching his breath and kneeling low into the canoe. Feel the fear and face it. Feel the fear and face it. He swallowed hard.

“Let’s do it!” They plunged their paddles into the water and took off. Connor felt his stomach drop like it did on a roller-coaster and he had to gulp the air and catch his breath. In an instant they were swept up by the current and whooshed towards the centre of the channel. Connor struggled with his J-stroke – it seemed like the water was deciding where they went, not him. “Got no control,” he yelled to Sam. “S’okay,” Sam shouted back. “Neither have I!” A sudden swell lifted the stern and Connor shot up and swung around and came down with a huge splash. The bow spun left, then right, lifting and sinking with the water. Connor crouched low in the canoe and tried to keep his balance. It took all his self-control to concentrate on the water, on his paddling, on where they were going. As long as he stayed focused, didn’t think about … other stuff, he’d be fine. They ran two, three, four tumbling rapids. Connor gripped his paddle tightly and kept plunging in and out. He lifted his eyes for a second and caught sight of Nick and Ella in the calmer waters beyond the whirlpool. They’d made it that far without tipping, at least. “Rocks!” shouted Sam, suddenly. “Right side!” Connor looked up – three huge boulders stuck out of the water right in their path. “Left! Con,” shouted Sam. “Left!” Connor sunk his paddle into the water and pushed out with all his strength. The rocks were only metres away, and getting closer and closer, and he pushed harder and harder. Sam was paddling for her life and screaming, “Left, Con! Left!” but the rocks were almost on top of them and there was nowhere to go. Connor pushed until his muscles felt like they were going to pop and suddenly the canoe found a wave of smooth water that turned sharply away from the rocks and back into the centre of the channel. “Took your time!” Sam yelled.

“Sorry, Sam, didn’t mean to worry –” “Whirlpool!” shouted Sam. “Whirlpool straight ahead!” Connor looked up again and saw the water swirling around in a huge circle and disappearing down the middle like a giant plughole. For a second he imagined the nose of the canoe stuck in that hole and him and Sam spinning around and around and – “Don’t want to hurry you, Con,” shouted Sam, “But –” “Draw on your left,” shouted Connor. “Draw! Now!” Sam plunged her paddle in hard and Connor pushed out on the right and, exactly as Nick said, they caught the edge of the whirlpool and spun gently into clear water. Barely seconds later, the current picked up again and the canoe started to rush forward. The second half was different; Connor could see it more clearly now. The channel was narrower, the banks were raised on either side and there were no rocks. It was a giant chute, just like a water slide. All they had to do was sit tight and let the current take them. “Awesome!” shouted Sam. They didn’t need to paddle, but they did anyway and they shot faster and faster and Connor could feel the water splashing over his arms and the wind hitting his cheeks. Wow! This is epic, he thought. Totally epic! They hit a line of bends in the channel and the canoe shot into a curve and high onto the bank. They threw their paddles into the canoe and grabbed the gunwales with both hands. In a split second they were in the middle of the channel again and heading up the opposite bank, the water rushing over the edges and splashing around their feet. They shot from one side to another and back again, swinging so hard they could barely breathe. All of a sudden, Connor saw the chute opening out and caught a flash of Nick and Ella’s red canoe. They’d made it! And then he saw it – the huge fallen maple lying across the bottom of the channel – and they were heading straight for it.

“Sam!” Connor screamed at the top of his voice, “Cross bow draw!” He could see Sam scrambling around the bottom of the canoe for her paddle. There was about a two-metre gap between the bank and the tree on the left-hand side, but they needed to move quickly if they had any chance of slipping through it. Connor grabbed his paddle and drew frantically on the left-hand side. “Cross bow draw, Sam! Now!” he yelled. He watched Sam lean over the gunwale, bury her paddle in the water and haul it round the bow. The canoe swung sharply to the left and a small offshoot branch from the fallen tree caught Sam in the face. She fell back off her seat, her arms flailing and her legs sprawling in the air, but they missed the fallen maple. Connor shoved the branch away with his paddle and they floated through the gap into the still, calm waters of the pool beyond. “Unreal!” said Connor, as they slowly came to a stop. “Awesome! Totally awesome,” said Sam, climbing back onto her seat and brushing the leaves off her life jacket. Nick and Ella paddled alongside and grabbed their canoe. “Like that, then?” said Nick, laughing. “Awesome!” said Sam. “It just kept getting faster; you didn’t have to paddle or anything. Man! If your dad knew what we’d just done he’d go ballistic.” “Yeah, well he won’t know,” said Nick. “And we’re all fine, aren’t we? Nobody drowned, though you did cut your cross bow draw a bit fine, Sam.” “Didn’t want Connor getting too relaxed,” smiled Sam. “Are there more, Nick?” said Ella, turning in her seat. “Can we run some more?” “I think that’s enough for one day, Ell,” said Nick. “The little Aussies aren’t used to this, . They’re going to need a day to recover!” Connor smiled at his cousin and grabbed his paddle. “See that island over there,” he said, pointing directly ahead into Lake Ketchecom.

“Yeah,” said Nick. “Race you!”

Chapter 14

Things that go crack! in the night

T here were actually three islands separated by marshy narrows. Nick and Ella steered a path through purple and green waterlilies. “The Ojibway people call these lilies stars fallen in the water,” said Ella. “Look like it, don’t they? And they used to eat the root – like a potato – and grind the seeds for flour.” “Don’t think I know as much as you, Ell, about Australian plants and stuff,” said Sam. “Me neither,” said Connor. “Not a clue.” For the first time since they’d left the cottage, they were really on their own. They’d seen a couple of daytrippers when they first set out, but now that they’d ed into Lake Ketchecom, apart from Cara, they hadn’t seen anyone all day. Before long, the sun started to drop and there was a slight chill in the air. “It’s getting late,” said Nick, angling towards the shore. “Let’s head over to the site now.” Connor grabbed his binoculars and checked the shoreline for the campsite. “Small clearing to the left,” he said. “Flat, with some stones like a fireplace.” “That’d be it. Let’s go.”

T hey hauled their canoes up the beach and stepped onto a smooth slab of pink granite. A soft blanket of pine needles covered a shady area big enough for at least four or five tents.

“Is this just, like, one site?” said Sam, standing in the middle and looking around. “Yeah,” said Nick. “It’s not like a camping ground – each site’s just for one group.” “There’s no one else here,” said Sam. “It’s awesome. Even in the National Parks at home you get other people.” “Nick!” said Ella, skirting the site, “there’s blueberries, tons of them. Can I go pick some?” “Sure, Ell. Let’s just unload first.” Ella grabbed the daypacks and water bottles and stacked the life jackets and paddles, while Connor and Sam emptied the big green pack, put up the tent and unrolled the sleeping bags. Nick got the pots and stove out of the barrel and set aside the Day 1 food bag. “We need water,” he said. “Can you drink the lake water?” asked Sam. “At home, we mostly take our own water, or sometimes there’s a tank.” “You can, but you have to treat it,” Nick said. He grabbed a collapsible water bottle and two small containers from the barrel. “You paddle out a bit, away from the shore where there’s no reeds and stuff, and you put your water bottle in the lake face down and then tip it once it’s underneath the water – that way you don’t get any of the scum from the surface. Then you pour it into the big container, add the treatment pills, and leave it for five minutes. Then it’s safe to drink.” “Yeah, but would you want to?” asked Connor, looking suspicious. “That’s what juice crystals are for,” said Nick, grabbing his paddle. “It’s disgusting without them. We’ll do dinner when I get back, yeah?” “Sure,” said Sam. “Want to show me those blueberry bushes Ell?”

C onnor picked up the map and clambered onto a high, rocky mound above the site. He grabbed his binoculars and looked out towards the islands they’d just explored. It was amazing how much you could see, he thought, far beyond the Ketchecom Islands. Now, if Grandma Maple had had these … but he wasn’t even sure binoculars had been invented in 1915. He could see from the map there was a clear line of sight from Grandma Maple’s room to Heron Island and the start of Maple Bank, but the line to Black Bear and Sandy Flats was obscured by land. The only things she could have seen were water and trees, unless … Connor tried to dismiss the thought. But the forests out here were ancient and remote, and well – it was easy to see why people had dreamed up the Sasquatch. There was something about being so alone in the woods that made you feel not … entirely alone. Connor pressed the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the shoreline to his left, following the narrow beach up to the end of Otter’s Channel. It was a long way off, and the sun was pretty low, but he thought he saw another canoe coming around the point at the top of the channel. It looked like a single paddler – a daytripper probably, or maybe Cara, checking that they hadn’t drowned in the rapids. He adjusted the lenses and looked again, but it had disappeared. Strange. There wasn’t really anywhere it could go, he thought – unless it had pulled into the bank under some trees. He sat down on the warm rock and looked out across the darkening water. He stayed there for a long time, watching the light change on the water as the sun descended. He could hear Ella and Sam talking as they gathered blueberries in the forest below. If he were home now, he’d be on his computer, playing some game with his mates. It was funny how he could spend hours doing that and would get really annoyed if The Mums told him to take a break, but here he hadn’t thought about his computer for days. It felt good, actually. No need to share that with the The Mums, though. Finally, after the sun had dipped behind the trees and the rock beneath him had grown cold, he stood up and took one last look across the lake. A flash of movement in the distant woods caught his eye. It was getting darker and the light was hazy, but he thought he could make out something slowly picking its way through the trees. And whatever it was, it was big. Bigger than a bear. Connor felt his skin prickle. He lifted his binoculars to his eyes for a closer look, but he’d lost it. He lowered the binoculars, squinting at where he had seen the …

whatever it was. Then he checked again. Where did it go? “See much through those?” Connor jumped and looked down to the water, where Nick was paddling back to shore. “Yeah, they’re powerful,” Connor replied, doing his best to keep his voice even. “You took your time.” “Yeah,” said Nick. “It was nice on the water. Went for a quick paddle.” Connor nodded. He looked back to the woods. “It’s so quiet out here. Are there any other campsites or houses between us and the channel?” “Nope. This is it,” said Nick, grabbing the water container from the canoe. “Come on. I’m starving. Let’s cook dinner.”

S o, no Loch Ness Monster, Con?” asked Sam, as she blew on her mug of vegetable soup. Dusk had fallen, the sky had turned a fiery orange and the four cousins were huddled around the campfire. “There’s no such thing as a Loch Ness Monster,” said Ella. “That’s just silly. Everybody knows that’s made up. Not like the Sasquatch, where there’s actual scientific evidence, like the footprints and the sightings.” “Well …” said Connor, through a mouthful of chicken roll. “Well what?” said Sam. “Did you see something, Con?” said Ella. “Did you see the Sasquatch? Did you really?” Sam went very still and looked at Connor, waiting for his reply. To be honest, Connor thought, he wasn’t sure what he’d seen, and no point scaring them all just before bed. “No. Definitely no Sasquatch,” said Connor, wiping his mouth with the back of

his hand. “But something did kill Grandma Maple and the dog,” said Ella. “Gran said the dog had been sniffing around the garden,” said Sam. “What about poison ivy?” “Doesn’t affect animals,” said Nick. “A snake?” said Ella. “Unlikely,” Nick replied. “Maybe it was just old?” said Sam. “No,” said Connor, “Gran said the dog was young.” “Well, I don’t know about the dog,” said Ella, getting bored with the conversation, “but I do know it’s going to be a nice day tomorrow.” “You checked the forecast on your secret laptop?” asked Sam. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” said Ella, pointing up through the trees. “That means it’ll be sunny in the morning.” They finished off their dinner and Nick headed over to Bertram’s Cottage to call his dad while the others cleaned up. “I’ll go dump the dishwater,” said Ella, grabbing the bowl. “Dad says a hundred metres, you know, ’cos of the bears.” “Why don’t you make it two?” said Sam. “Just to be sure.”

N ick and Ella returned at the same time and hunkered down beside the fire. “Your dad freaking out yet?” asked Connor. “Didn’t speak to him. Mom answered. She … don’t know … sounded a bit weird. Just worried, I guess. I said we’d call again tomorrow.”

Odd, thought Connor, wondering if there was a particular reason Aunty Lou was worried. He figured if they were in any actual danger, she’d have said something. Or she’d have just turned up and carted them straight home. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. Nick grabbed some bananas and a slab of chocolate from the barrel and they sat in a circle, the fire flickering brightly as darkness finally spread over the camp. “Hey Sam, can I borrow your knife?” asked Nick. “No chance,” said Sam. “Can I borrow your bananas?” Nick laughed and handed them over. Mum had showed them how to do this one camping trip when they were little and now it was family tradition. Sam sliced down the middle of each banana, broke off squares of chocolate from the slab and pushed them into the cut. Then she squeezed the skins back together and dropped them on the glowing coals. “See that big ‘W’,” said Nick, pointing up to a group of stars. “It’s Cassiopeia. You can pretty much always see it, because it never sets below the horizon. The Inuit think it’s a staircase connecting the earth to the sky.” “The Inuit?” said Sam, “that’s like, native Canadians?” “Yeah. People used to call them Eskimos, but not now. They’re First Peoples – because, like, they were here first.” “Like Indigenous Australians,” said Sam, turning the bananas with a stick. When the skins looked like they were starting to blacken, Sam shoved them to the edge of the fire and let them cool for a minute. “Good to go, campers,” she said, picking one up by its stalk and balancing it in her lap. The others followed suit and, grabbing a spoon each, scooped out the hot, melted, chocolatey banana and ate. In complete silence. “Awesome,” said Nick finally, licking his spoon clean. “Nice one. Thanks, Sam.” “Welcome,” said Sam, stretching her legs and looking out across the water.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to teach us how to portal, or whatever?” she asked. “Portage,” Nick said. “And I’m too stuffed to even think about it. Don’t worry, there’s not much to teach. We’ll show you tomorrow. You’ll pick it up.” “Literally,” Ella added, laughing with her brother. “I don’t get it,” Sam frowned. “Little joke – don’t worry. Bathroom trip, anyone?” said Nick. Connor smiled. He loved how Canadians never said the word toilet; it was like they were embarrassed or something. They always said bathroom, even if they were in the middle of the wilderness and there really wasn’t a bathroom for miles. “There’s a bathroom about fifty metres back,” said Nick, catching Connor’s smirk, “or whatever you call it … ” “The camping variety is called a glory box or long drop where we come from,” said Connor. “Same idea.” “Ell, put Aunty Sal’s headlamp on and keep it on, like she said. Dad really will kill me if I lose you!”

W ithin half an hour, they had all been to the bathroom and everything was packed up and tidied away. They lay in the tent listening to the water lapping against the shore and the breeze rustling through the ferns. A long, mournful cry echoed across the water. Connor sat bolt upright. “What’s that?” he asked. “Creepy!” said Sam. “Ell, those Sasquatch sightings you read about,” said Connor, “… anybody ever hear them?” “Someone did record them, way back,” Ella said. “It’s on YouTube. It’s called

the Sasquatch Sierra Sounds. They make all of these weird sounds – screeches and whistles and howls. It’s scary as.” “It’s a loon,” interrupted Nick, “not a Sasquatch.” “A loon?” Sam asked. “A type of duck. Sorry to disappoint you. You know, like on our dollar coin, the loonie. They’re like a symbol of the Canadian wilderness. Like your kangaroo?” “Do the kangaroos really eat all the veggies in your garden, Connor?” asked Ella. “No,” laughed Connor. “I was just joking. But you should see those koalas –” Crack! They all heard it and they all went quiet. The sudden snapping of a branch and a … shuffling? They froze in their sleeping bags. “Soooo,” whispered Sam, after a few seconds. “I’m guessing that wasn’t a loon?” “No, not a loon,” said Nick. “Not a chipmunk, either?” “Not a chipmunk.” “Probably bigger than a chipmunk?” said Sam. “Yeah,” said Nick, slowly, “definitely bigger than a chipmunk.” “As big as say, for example, just thinking of any old animal … a bear?!” “No. Definitely not a bear,” said Nick. “Definitely not.” “How do you know?” said Sam. “Why not a bear?” “Because … because bears don’t sound like that.”

“Oh, right … bears sound like … ?” “Just not like that. Seriously, it’s most likely … a raccoon, or maybe a beaver.” Connor sat in his sleeping bag, every muscle tensed. Whatever it was sounded big. He thought about the thing he’d seen lumbering through the woods. “It could be a Sasquatch,” whispered Ella, as if reading Connor’s mind. “I doubt it,” said Nick. “But you don’t know for sure,” Ella said. “No one does.” “She’s right,” said Connor. “No one knows for sure.” They were silent for a moment, listening for more sounds of … they didn’t know what. “Even if Sasquatches do exist,” said Sam quietly, her voice quavering slightly, “no one has ever said they’ve been hurt by one, have they? Just scared by them. So that’s … reassuring?” “Guys,” interrupted Nick, “Maybe it’s a raccoon! And it’s stopped now anyway, so just calm down and go to sleep, okay?” Connor couldn’t help noticing, despite his insistence that there was nothing to worry about, Nick kept his voice low. They lay back down and tried not to think too much about what had made the shuffling noises and caused branches to crack just beyond their tent. Connor’s whole body was rigid, listening for sounds that were no longer there. It would’ve been hard to hear anything anyway, over the rapid thump, thump, thump of his heart. Nick was probably right, Connor thought, just a raccoon. After all, only a few hundred people, including a number of scientists, had reported Sasquatch sightings in the last century. As compared to thousands of raccoon sightings. Plus, in an age of smartphones and CCTV, there was still no verified proof that the Sasquatch existed. Yeah, Connor thought, trying to relax a little. Definitely a raccoon.

chapter 15

Bad memories

H ey guys, wake up!” said Nick. “I’ve got an idea.” “Go away,” groaned Connor, turning his back on Nick and pulling his sleeping bag over his head. He’d had almost no sleep, what with spending the night listening for unwelcome visitors. “Up! Now! Shorts and T-shirt will do. I’ll meet you by the canoes.” “Seriously?” said Connor. “I only just went to sleep!” “Yeah, seriously! Get up! Come on!” Sam, Connor and Ella dragged themselves out of the tent, pulled on their life jackets, and piled into a single canoe, Nick at the stern, Ella at the bow and Connor and Sam in between with their legs dangling over the gunwales. Nick and Ella paddled while their cousins slowly woke up. Ella was right about the weather again, Connor thought. It was a beautiful day, calm and clear. Felt like they’d been away for ages, but this was only their first morning. “There’s a whirlpool and a line of cascades over there,” said Nick, pointing with his paddle. “I spotted them last night when I was getting water.” “Yeah, so?” mumbled Connor. The water was swirling and choppy all of a sudden and they could see a line of cascades between the two islands ahead. The canoe was swinging from side to side and with the four of them, it was really low in the water, but Nick still kept paddling, creeping closer and closer to the cascades.

“Grab that rock, Ell,” yelled Nick, “and hold on tight.” Nick threw his paddle into the canoe, leant over the gunwales and wedged the stern between two rocks. “Okay, guys,” he said, “this is where you get off.” Ella was smiling, but Sam and Connor looked blank. “Body surfing!” explained Nick, “well, except there’s no surf! Drop over the side and just go, you won’t need to swim. It’s an awesome spot for it, fast and no rocks and it’ll take you real close to our site. Get in, Ell, and show them.” Ella dropped her paddle and slipped over the gunwales. In seconds she was spinning and bouncing through the white water and all Connor and Sam could see was a small face with a huge smile. “I’m in,” said Sam, slipping over the gunwales. “Worth getting up early after all,” she yelled, as the water carried her away. “You up for it, Con?” said Nick. “Or –” “Or what?” “Nothing.” Maybe he wasn’t going to be able to keep this secret to himself after all, thought Connor, and Nick half-knew anyway. “Look,” Connor said, “something happened last summer … at the beach, all right?” “Whatever. You don’t have to –” “No, it’s okay. I’m over it, but … we were down the beach and I was on my boogie board and I went out a bit too far …” Connor recalled that morning. The sky was a crystal clear blue, a light breeze swept along the beach, and the waves were perfect. He was in the water and on his board before Sam and The Mums had even found a spot to spread their towels.

He caught four, five, six great waves in a row and cruised into the beach, smooth and easy. He thought he’d paddle out further, get beyond the breakers, and have a really long run into shore. He was fine getting out there, but then he realised the wind had picked up and when he looked back, Sam and The Mums were suddenly much further away than he expected. As he started to paddle back, he realised he wasn’t actually moving forward. Sideways maybe, but definitely not towards the beach. And then he realised: he was caught in a rip. The water’s pull was strong and it was taking him out further, and he couldn’t swim against it, and he knew he shouldn’t try anyway, and he felt panicked and scared and The Mums and Sam seemed miles away. His memories of what happened next were vague and jumbled. He ed the waves crashing over him; the tightness in his chest; struggling to breathe. Gulping water as he tried to cling to his board, his arms and legs heavy and weak. It took longer and longer to get air. He felt like his lungs were going to explode. He tried to keep an arm in the air so he could be seen from shore, but there was so much water in his face, and all his energy was spent and … and then he saw a flash of red and yellow, and then it disappeared, and he spun around searching, and next thing a surf lifesaver was coming straight at him, and he … “So … what happened?” asked Nick tentatively. “Sorry,” said Connor, realising he’d completely spaced out. Slowly, he told Nick the whole story of the rescue, and even a little bit about the worry that had dogged him since that day; then he waited for his cousin to say something smart or patronising. “Wow!” said Nick. “I’d have been terrified. Like, a lake’s flat, right? But waves, I’ve seen them on YouTube and man! They’re pretty scary. But you stayed calm, you didn’t swim against the rip, and you ed to stick your arm in the air so someone could see you. I don’t know why you’re worried about a whirlpool and a few cascades.” Connor smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure whether it was because Nick had only seen waves on YouTube, or whether it was because his cousin had surprised him. No smart remarks, no smug comments. Almost complimentary, in fact.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re right,” said Connor. “It is really different here and that helps.” “So, do you … want to do this, then?” “Yeah,” said Connor. “I do. Totally.” Connor looked at the swirling water and tightened his life jacket. He was feeling better about it – he wasn’t making that up – but he still wasn’t sure if he was actually better, really over it. There was only one way to find out: he edged over the gunwale and slipped into the water. It wasn’t that cold, not after the first few seconds anyway, Connor thought as the current carried him off. The pull of the water was strong and a bit too familiar; he felt panic start to rise as he was swept along. But he took a few deep breaths and reminded himself to go with the flow. He drifted along, spread-eagled on his back, and watched the high, wispy clouds drift across the sky. And it felt okay. Actually, it felt better than okay. He swirled through the water, ducking in and out of eddies and whirlpools, and bobbing up and down. He could hear Ella and Sam whooping and laughing ahead of him – maybe he really was over it and not just pretending after all, he thought, as the current picked him up and spun him around. Gradually, the water started to even out, the ripples flattened and he drifted gently towards the shore. “Fun, eh?” shouted Nick, paddling to catch up. “Awesome,” said Connor. “Want to climb in or swim ba –” Nick stopped short. He was looking towards the shore and his expression had changed; something had caught his eye. Connor and Sam watched as his smile disappeared and his face started to redden. “Swim back, guys,” he said. “I need to …” He didn’t finish his sentence, just dug his paddle in hard and headed towards the shore.

chapter 16

An unexpected visitor

C onnor, Sam and Ella waded through the shallows and out of the water, their clothes dripping onto the gravelly beach. The canoe was there, but there was no sign of Nick. “Where is he?” asked Connor, shaking his head and looking around. “Don’t know,” said Sam, “but he saw something he didn’t like.” “Maybe he got scared and hid in the woods,” said Ella. “He wasn’t scared, Ell,” said Connor, gently. “He was angry.” They heard a shout from the trees and spun round. In the next second, Nick emerged, shaking his head and stomping through the ferns. He walked over to the tent, yanked out the pegs and flung them to the ground. “Hey! What’s going on?” asked Connor. “We’re going home!” Nick shouted. “What?” said Connor. “No way! Why?” “Ask him,” said Nick, gesturing angrily behind. Connor looked up, confused, and saw Uncle David stepping out from the trees. What? That didn’t make sense. Uncle David was at home, back at the cottage. Or he was meant to be. “Guys,” said Uncle David, rather sheepishly. “Hi. I, er … just came to check you’re okay.”

“You haven’t come to check we’re okay,” shouted Nick, turning to his dad. “You’ve been following us!” Ah! The disappearing paddler at the top of Otter’s Channel, thought Connor. And their ‘raccoon’. Okay, so not a Sasquatch after all. Good to know. And thanks Uncle David for scaring the life out of me, Connor thought. He was not impressed. There was plenty of stuff to worry about already; they didn’t need any extra. “We had a deal!” shouted Nick. “This was our trip, on our own! You agreed and you … you broke your word!” “Look, Nick, it’s … not like that,” spluttered his dad. “I needed to know you were okay. I just thought I’d keep an eye –” “We called you! That’s how you knew we were okay. That was the deal! But you weren’t even there, were you? You were already following us. That’s why Mom was so weird on the phone.” “Look, son, if you hadn’t been up so early, you wouldn’t even have known I –” “And that would make it all right, would it, Dad?” yelled Nick, his face scarlet with rage. “As long as we didn’t know, that would be okay?” “No, that’s not what I meant.” Connor, Sam and Ella stood transfixed. They really didn’t want to be there, but it wasn’t like they could just go off into another room – there was nowhere else to go. Sam pulled Ella close and put her arm around her shoulders and Connor stared at the ground. “Look,” said Uncle David to Nick, “Why don’t we sit down and –” “I’m not a little kid anymore, Dad,” said Nick, “but you don’t seem to have noticed that.” He threw up his arms, turned and stormed into the woods. The rest of them stood silently until Uncle David finally spoke. “I’m sorry, guys,” he said. “This was never meant to happen.” “Nick’s really good at all this stuff,” said Connor. Part of him didn’t actually like

to it that, but he knew it was true. “He’s always really careful, you know; he wouldn’t do anything stupid. We wouldn’t let him, anyway.” “Yes,” said Uncle David, “I know that’s true, Connor. It’s just that …” Uncle David shrugged. “Are we in trouble, Dad?” asked Ella, quietly. “Do we have to go home?” “Come here, sweetheart,” said Uncle David, lifting her up into a hug. “You don’t have to go home and you’re not in trouble. I might be, though. I’m not too popular back at the cottage right now, either, I can tell you. You’ve got a whole trip to do, sweetheart. You enjoy it.” Uncle David stared off into the trees and Connor could tell he was trying to decide what to do next. Nick wasn’t coming back anytime soon, Connor felt sure of that, and he really didn’t think Uncle David traipsing off into the woods to look for him was a good idea. Luckily, Uncle David thought that, too. “I’m going to head off and leave you guys to it,” said Uncle David. “Tell Nick … No, I’ll tell him myself. Finish your trip, guys, and I’ll see you at home.” And with that, he turned and disappeared into the trees. Sam, Connor and Ella stood, watching and waiting. “Shall we go find Nick?” asked Ella. “He’ll come when he’s ready,” said Connor. “Let’s pack up the tent and get breakfast ready.”

T he three of them were sitting and eating huge bowls of honey-coated granola and hot milk when Nick finally reappeared. “Breakfast?” said Connor, hesitantly, handing him a bowl. “Thanks,” said Nick, taking the bowl and sitting down next to Ella. “You all right, Ell?” “Yeah,” said Ella. “Dad said he’s the one in trouble – with Mom and that – not

us.” Nick looked at his cousins. “He said to finish the trip and that everything was okay,” said Connor. “That’s all.” There was a long silence, interrupted only by the sound of Nick’s spoon attacking his granola. “Thanks, Con,” he said, handing over his bowl when he was done. “I’ll just go to the bathroom and then we’ll head off, eh?” “Sure,” said Connor. “No worries.” By the time Nick returned, he no longer looked like he wanted to punch the nearest thing in sight. “All right?” said Sam. “Yeah,” said Nick. “We’ve wasted enough time, let’s clean up these bowls, pack away the stove and get going.” “So, paddle up the lake and do this portage thing?” said Connor. “Yeah, just a nice short portage,” said Nick, a curious smile spreading across his face.

chapter 17

So not a holiday

I t was an impressive paddle, if Connor said so himself – fast and smooth – and they covered a lot of distance. Ella spotted a turkey vulture soaring above the trees, and they watched a flock of Canada geese squawking overhead. Nick saw the bright yellow portage sign by a clearing and they pulled into the shore. “So portaging?” asked Connor, as they hauled the canoes up the bank. “You never did get around to explaining it.” “A lot of the lakes are connected, right?” said Nick, unzipping his life jacket, “but not all of them. Sometimes, you have to get out of one lake and walk through the forest to the other lake, and the easiest way to do that is to put the canoe on your head.” “Yeah, very funny,” said Connor. “It’s hard to see where you’re going, ’cos mostly you can just see your feet. Plus, you’ve got to carry the pack and the barrel and paddles as well.” Connor looked at Sam – was he for real? “But … don’t they weigh a ton?” asked Connor. “Half a ton, maybe,” laughed Nick. Nick wrapped his and Ella’s life jackets around the struts at the bow and stern of the canoe. “Padding for your shoulders,” he explained. He threaded their paddles under the canoe’s struts, then lifted the huge pack onto his back while Ella slid a daypack onto her shoulders.

“Watch and learn, my friends,” said Nick, with a grim smile. Nick and Ella lined themselves up on the same side of their canoe – Nick at the stern, Ella at the bow – and reached across so that they each had a hand on either gunwale. Then, in one swift move, they lifted the canoe up and over so that they ended up underneath it, padding on their shoulders, their heads completely hidden inside. “You’re for real?!” laughed Connor. “How far?” “About 250 metres. You’ve got to be careful, right?” said Nick, his voice echoing inside the canoe. “There’s rocks and tree roots along here and you don’t want to trip.” “No?” said Connor. “You mean I don’t want thirty kilos of fibreglass falling on me from a great height?” “Secret’s not to stop and start,” shouted Nick. “Makes it worse! Just load up like us and we’ll see you at the end!” In a few moments, Sam had organised the other daypack and paddles and Connor had strapped the barrel to his back. This was all a bit harder than he’d imagined, and he really wasn’t sure he could actually do it, but he wasn’t about to show himself up in front of his cousins. “Ready, Sam?” he said, positioning himself at the stern. “You got the bow?” “Yup,” said Sam. “Got it.” “Hey, Nick!” Connor shouted after his cousin, “you want to race!?”

T he first fifty metres weren’t too bad – actually less painful than Connor expected. The really tricky bit was watching your feet and where you were going at the same time, and he couldn’t see that far ahead because Sam and the bow got in the way. Connor manoeuvred slowly around a bend in the track and down a slight dip. So far, so good, he thought. “Okay Sam?” he yelled.

“Yeah … haven’t had this much fun since end-of-year exams!” The track suddenly started to climb and there were rocks and boulders everywhere. Connor stepped carefully around each one, the weight of the canoe tipping down and crushing his shoulders. He was starting to feel the muscles in his calves as he climbed. Then the track dropped sharply and Connor tensed his arms and gripped the gunwales tightly, making sure everything – himself included – didn’t go hurtling forward. His neck was stiff and it felt like someone was poking him with a sharp stick. If he could just put his arms down for a minute, or if the barrel would stop digging into his back, or if the path would stay flat … He had no idea how far ahead Nick and Ella were, and he really didn’t want to stop, but the pain shooting through his neck was getting worse by the second. “Stopping,” he shouted to Sam. “Yup,” said Sam. “You okay?” “Not really.” “Me neither.” “My shoulders!” “Much further, do you – ?” They heard a rustling ahead, though they couldn’t actually see anything. “Okay, guys?” called Nick. “Yeah. Fine,” said Connor. “Just checking out the view – didn’t want to miss anything.” “I think we’re about halfway,” yelled Nick. “Keep going yeah?!” “Yeah, totally,” yelled Connor, “Sam?” “Yup. Totally. Loving it, Con. Let’s go.” The next hundred metres was rough and uneven, and they stumbled over

boulders and roots at every step. Connor felt like someone had hit him across the back with a cricket bat and his legs were shaking. It took every ounce of effort and concentration to keep putting one foot in front of the other and to stay upright. How did he get himself into this? He was supposed to be on holiday – that thing where you relax and chill out – and he was dying here! He stepped over a root, caught his toe on a rock and stumbled. He felt himself lurch forward, the weight on his shoulders unbearable. In a split second he saw himself crushed between the rock and the barrel and Sam pinned to the ground by the canoe. His arms and legs were jelly, but somehow, by some miracle, he managed to stay upright, to stumble onto flat ground, barrel and canoe intact. “Whoa. Con, you okay?” came a desperate call from up front. “Yeah,” breathed Connor, barely able to speak. “Can see the lake,” mumbled Sam. They dragged themselves the last twenty metres and fell to their knees at the water’s edge, dropping the canoe onto the beach with a huge clumsy thud! They lay, spread-eagled on the sand next to Nick and Ella, panting and exhausted. It was a while before anyone spoke. Connor sat up first, stretched his neck and rubbed his shoulders. “Don’t know what all the fuss was about,” he said. “Easy as!” Nick laughed. “You did well, guys,” he said, sitting up and bending his neck from side to side. “I always forget what a killer that is.” Sam rolled over and groaned. “This is so not a holiday,” she said. “Next time, you lot are portaging me.” “Hey,” said Ella, who was already back on her feet. “Look through there, guys, through the trees. Look!” “Not now, Ell,” said Nick. “But look! Con. Look! She could be in there!” “What are you on about, Ell?” said Nick. “Who could be in there?”

“Grandma Maple! I bet Grandma Maple’s in there!” Connor, Sam and Nick sat bolt upright and followed the direction of Ella’s gaze. About fifty metres from where they sat was a line of gravestones, lopsided, moss-covered – barely visible, in fact – but definitely gravestones. And beyond the gravestones was what looked like a crumbling, old stone chapel, nestled in small clearing of pines. “She’s right,” said Nick, standing up. “It’s an old graveyard, and probably the closest one to the cottage.” “Creepy?” said Sam. “Or just me?” “Definitely creepy,” said Connor. “Check it out then?” “Yup.” The four cousins scrambled through the trees and picked their way over mosscovered rocks towards the graves. “It’s like they’ve been buried again by a hundred years of weeds and grass,” said Sam. If there had ever been a fence around the church and cemetery, nothing of it remained; they found themselves suddenly standing among the old graves. Ella crouched down by one of the headstones and rubbed at the inscription. “It’s really hard to see,” she said. “It’s all covered with moss and stuff.” “Just look for a date, Ell, or a name,” said Connor, leaning over her shoulder. “Look at this one,” said Nick, kneeling down in front of a large, stone cross. “It’s a First World War memorial for 1915–16. We must be close.” Sam and Ella picked their way along a small section of path that wasn’t completely overgrown. “Hey Ell, check that out,” said Sam, pointing towards a clearer area just ahead of

them. “Looks a bit, sort of … tidy. And are those flowers? I mean … bought flowers?” Ella dog-legged around a couple of graves until she stood directly in front of the headstone and the cleared, well-tended grave Sam had spotted. She looked at the inscription, then looked up at the others, who had followed. Connor didn’t need to ask. He could tell from the look on Ella’s face. They had found Grandma Maple, and from the look of the recent bunch of flowers on her grave, someone else had found her, too.

chapter 18

Camp MasterChef

W hat is that?” asked Sam, peering over Ella’s shoulder. “It’s the best,” said Nick. “Yeah, well, I guessed that from the fact there’s a whole block of chocolate in there,” said Sam. “It’s chocolate fondue,” announced Ella proudly. “You put the chocolate and evaporative milk in the pot and melt it together and then you dip stuff in it.” “Stuff?” asked Sam. “These,” said Ella, handing Sam a bag of apples and oranges. “Cut them up and me those sponge cookies.” After the excitement of discovering Grandma Maple, they had found a clearing by the water’s edge, eaten a huge lunch of pita bread with avocado and salami, then swum in the clear, still waters of Loon Lake. Ella had fired up the stove and emptied the contents of a number of plastic bags into the pot. The four cousins sat in a circle as Ella gave the fondue a final stir and placed it carefully on the ground in front of them. They took turns scooping the chocolate with the apple and orange slices and the sponge fingers. “Deadly,” said Sam, licking the chocolate from her thumb and forefinger. “Really, Ell – that is the best dessert I’ve ever tasted.” “Yum,” said Connor, shoving a huge blob of chocolate-covered sponge into his mouth and grabbing a handful of fruit. “Great job, Ell.” It took a good twenty minutes for the cousins to finish the pot, and by the time

they’d scraped the bottom clean they were all rolling on the ground, clutching their stomachs and groaning. They stretched out on the pine needles and closed their eyes; there was no way they were going anywhere in a hurry. “So,” said Connor, after a few minutes, “we’re not the only ones interested in Grandma Maple, then.” “Yeah,” said Sam. “And that is creepy.” “Let’s say there was no bear or snake or murderer – sorry Ell,” said Connor. “Our best theory so far is that she saw something that frightened her so much she had a heart attack.” “But it’s not like you can see much from that room,” said Nick. “I know. That’s the problem. If anything really serious had happened – like an accident, or somebody dying or something – Gran would know about it, or it would have been in the Rokeby Independent. But the only slightly interesting thing that happened in the week Grandma Maple died was that a couple of guys said they saw a Sasquatch.” “You don’t really think Grandma Maple saw Old Yellow Top, do you?” asked Sam. “No.” Connor paused. “I don’t know. But we’ve got that, or we’ve got a curse. Which do you prefer?” “Funny, but neither of those are working for me,” said Sam. “Well, at least I know a way I can rule one of them out …” said Connor. “You mean? You’re not going to … actually sit in that chair?” said Ella, jumping up and down like it was Christmas morning. “The actual chair, that, like, our actual great grandma died in?” But before Connor could answer, Nick was on his feet. “We need to get going,” he said. “Still a few hours to our site on the other side of Loon Lake. Can you pack up while I check the map and take a bearing?” “Yup,” said Sam, grabbing the pot and spoons.

“Should be pretty quiet tonight,” said Nick, looking out across the water. “No visitors this time, at least.” He scowled slightly, but left it at that.

Y ou mean we have this whole island to ourselves, just us?” said Sam, dragging the canoe up the bank. The water had been calm and they’d had an easy afternoon’s paddling around the inlets of Loon Lake. “We’re on our own, that’s for sure,” said Connor, scouring the shoreline with his binoculars. “I mean properly, this time. There’s one small tent over on the mainland, but that’s all.” They unloaded the canoes, set up the tent and headed off to explore a bit, walking along a rough track that skirted the edge of the island. Nick led them up a giant slab of pink granite that jutted out over the water, and they perched on the edge, looking out across the lake. “See this stuff we’re sitting on?” said Nick, pointing to a dark, brittle lichen on the rock. “It’s elephant moss. When it gets wet, it goes green and softens up and you can eat it, like a kind of lettuce.” “Yum,” said Sam. “Salad tonight anyone?” “You can boil the heads of fiddle fern, too – they’re like a kind of asparagus – and bull rushes – the bit under the water – like sweet potato. And you can make tea out of cedar tree needles.” “You’re not getting any ideas, are you Nick?” said Sam, suspiciously. “What’s for dinner?” “Pizza,” said Nick. “And I’m starving. Come on, let’s go back. You can build the pizza oven, Sam.” “I can?” “Yeah. I’ll tell you how, then I’ll paddle over to the marina and call Dad. Should be a fun conversation.”

Connor raised an eyebrow at Sam, who grimaced in reply, but said nothing as they slid down the rock and headed back to the campsite.

S am scoured the shoreline for some flat rocks and hauled them over to the fire pit where Connor and Ella were unpacking bags of flour and vegetables. She laid out the rocks to form three sides of a square and built a small fire inside, carefully fanning the flame until it had properly taken. Once the fire was really going, she balanced another large, flat rock over the top to make the oven. “Nice one, Sam,” said Connor, hunkering down next to Ella, who was scooping butter into a bag of flour. “So what is this ‘bannock’ stuff, Ell?” “It’s flour and butter and other stuff all mixed up and you can use it for different things.” Ella poured a cup of water into the bag, sealed it back up, and squeezed it in her palms, like a giant stress ball. When all the mixture had turned into one big lump of dough, she opened the bag and dropped it onto the lid of the barrel. “Can you chop the veggies, Con, while I make the bases?” “Sure. Maybe my sister will lend me her very cool new knife to do that,” said Connor, smiling at Sam. “Hmm?” said Sam, pulling the knife out of her pocket. “Your very cool sister might let you use her very cool knife this one time.” “Thanks, very cool sister,” said Connor, grabbing the knife, and lining up the capsicum and mushrooms. Ella divided the dough into four chunks and flattened them on the lid of the barrel with her fist. “ me that pot lid, Sam,” she said. She turned the lid upside down, transferred a pizza base onto it and covered it with the vegetables, salami and cheese. “It’s ready, Sam.” Sam slid the pizza carefully into the makeshift oven and watched as the salami started to curl and the cheese sizzled. “That’s awesome!” she said.

As it cooked, they watched the loons gathering in pairs on the water, and Nick heading back across the lake. The sky was pale and grey in the fading light. “I think it’s done,” said Sam, a few minutes later, sliding the pizza out and cutting it into four slices. “Perfect timing,” said Connor, waving to Nick as he pulled his canoe onto the beach. “It’s like MasterChef over here.” Nick ed them and they each grabbed a slice of pizza and bit into the hot, melted cheese and spicy salami. “Wow,” said Sam, “our very own wood-fired pizza.” Ella reloaded the pot lid and Sam slid it into the oven. “Did you get through to your dad?” asked Connor, angling his mouth to get as much pizza in as he could. “Yeah. Marina was quiet,” said Nick, “and no problem to use the phone. Spoke to Mom and everything’s fine. We didn’t talk about … you know. She just asked if we were okay and said she’d see us the day after tomorrow. Aunty Jen says if we need anything at all, she can paddle over. Happy to help, she says,” he added with a laugh. Sam and Connor rolled their eyes. “Points for trying, I guess,” said Sam. “I said ‘thank you, but no thank you’. Oh, and Grandpa has a surprise for us, but no clues,” Nick said. “Next pizza ready?” By the time they’d finished all four pizzas, the sky was dark and a huge moon was climbing from the horizon, spreading a silvery light over the water. Ella set to work on dessert, sprinkling the lid of the barrel with flour and throwing another bag of bannock dough onto the middle. She rolled it roughly with a water bottle, spread it with butter, then sprinkled a small bag of cinnamon, sugar and sultanas over the top. “You roll it into a long, thin sausage-shape,” she said. “Then cut it into slices and

turn them on their side.” She placed each segment carefully into a pan sizzling with melted butter, flipped them over and in a few minutes they were brown and crispy and the campsite smelt like a bakery. She forked them onto plates and ed them around. Steam wafted from the sweet, sticky dough. “What are these called?” asked Connor, breathing it in. “Belly buttons,” Ella replied. “Ew, gross. Well, they smell a lot better than actual belly buttons,” Connor laughed. The four cousins pulled the belly buttons apart and bit into them. “Wow! Again,” said Sam. “We need to upgrade our camp food. The Mums are really going to have to lift their ga –” But before she could finish her sentence, out of the night came a loud, bloodcurdling scream.

chapter 19

Ways to die #3

T hey froze, looked towards the shore, at each other, and then back to the shore. There was a long silence, finally broken by Sam. “Now that definitely wasn’t a raccoon,” she said quietly. Connor couldn’t help thinking about the Sasquatch sounds Ella had mentioned. And whether that could have been one of them. “Quiet!” said Nick, trying to focus on where the sound had come from. “Sounded like –” Then it hit them again – a long, high-pitched, terrifying scream. Connor shuddered. “It’s a woman,” said Nick. “A woman, screaming.” “What could be so scary that someone would scream like that?” Sam asked, trying to steady the tremble in her voice. They stared across the lake to the shore of the mainland. It was dark now, and though the moon shone across the water, the trees were shadowy and black. They sat around the fire, absolutely still, as if they were somehow rooted to the ground like the trees around them. A few seconds ed and they heard a different sound, a whistle blowing: pip, pip, pip, peep, peep, peep, pip, pip, pip. Nick shot to his feet. “SOS!” he said. “That’s morse code for SOS – Save our Souls! Someone’s in trouble.” In the next few seconds a million things ran through Connor’s head. They had to do something, but what? They were on their own, they had no phone, no way of

getting help. They could paddle across, maybe, but it was pitch black and they didn’t know what was over there and – Pip, pip, pip, peep, peep, peep, pip, pip, pip! “What’s … going on?” whispered Sam. “I don’t know … maybe –” said Nick, and at that moment they heard a third sound, a sound that told them exactly what was going on: the crashing together of cooking pots. “Bears! ” said Sam, hardly able to breathe the word. “Yes,” whispered Nick, slowly. “Bears.” “What do we do now?” Connor asked, desperately trying to what they’d learnt back at the cottage. He’d always thought his uncle was so full-on about all the safety stuff and he hadn’t really taken much notice, hadn’t really worried. Until now. “What do we do, Nick?” he repeated. “Just stop … let me think a minute,” said Nick. Connor knew they had to do something – they couldn’t just sit there and listen while someone was in danger and there was a bear just across the water. But what? Try to make . How? Go for help? Where? He could see Nick in the firelight, head bowed, hands over his face like he was desperately trying to recall something. Then, suddenly, he stood up, shoulders back, chin out. Connor could never have imagined that he’d be this happy to see Mr Canoe Instructor. “What would my dad do?” Nick asked, and before anyone could answer he’d grabbed a stick and was spreading the embers of the fire. “Get more branches, dry leaves, whatever you can find, and build up the fire. Quick!” Nick ran down towards the beach and scrambled up the rocks by the water’s edge. He stood atop a giant boulder – about two metres high – cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted as loudly and as clearly as he could: “People on

the shore, are you okay?” The response was not what they wanted: more frantic whistles and crashing pot lids. Sam and Ella grabbed piles of dry leaves and branches and Connor loaded them up on the fire. After a few minutes, the banging stopped and Nick tried again: “People on the shore, are you okay?” “We’re okay,” came a man’s voice. “Saw a bear. Gave us a fright!” “Can we help?” shouted Nick, though no one had the vaguest idea how they might help. “No. Thanks,” a shout came back. “Okay now. Bear just more persistent than usual – think he’s wandered off.” Connor breathed a sigh of relief. He really didn’t fancy meeting a bear. Easy to joke about back at the cottage, but in real life … “Wandered off,” said Sam. “Wandered off … where, do you think?” Oh crap! He hadn’t thought of that. Nick scrambled down the rock and sprinted back over to the fire. “Okay, guys, listen up. We’ve got to clear up this food, now! Get the pots washed, leave them out, and put everything else in the barrel and stash the barrel up the beach as far away as possible. Get your life jackets on, grab your paddles and flashlights and carry the canoes down to the water’s edge –” “Nick,” interrupted Connor, his head still spinning with the echoes of the scream, “bears … can they … ? They can’t … ? Can they… ?” “Swim?” said Nick, finishing his sentence. “Oh yes, they can swim.” “But what if … what if it swims over here?” asked Ella. Nick crouched down by his sister and put a hand on each shoulder. “ what Dad always says? They’re more frightened of us, yeah? We just make a big, loud noise and it’ll scare him off.”

“But what if it goes into the woods and … ?” Nick took a deep breath. Connor and Sam both knew he was trying to convince himself as much as his sister. “If we have to,” he said, “we’ll get in the canoes and paddle over to the mainland, but it won’t come to that, I promise.” And, as if to test that promise, the sound of crashing pots and blowing whistles swept across the lake once again. “Grab your life jackets and put them on,” Nick instructed. “Won’t be time for that if we have to get on the water.” They all strapped themselves in and stood on the beach, waiting for Nick’s next instruction. “Connor,” said Nick, squinting into the dark along the shoreline, “climb up that rock and watch the opposite shore with your binoculars. Fifty metres left and fifty right, and let me know if … if you see anything. Don’t take your eyes off that shore for a second! Come on, Sam, Ell, quick!” Connor scrambled onto the rock and trained his binoculars on the opposite shore, while Nick, Sam and Ella cleared the food and scrubbed the pots. They scoured the site for crumbs and anything that might have been dropped without them noticing, then loaded everything into the barrel and Nick disappeared along the shoreline for several minutes, stowing the barrel safely away from the tent. “Okay,” Nick panted, when he reappeared in the clearing. “Not much else we can do now, except watch and wait. We’ll take turns keeping a lookout okay, Con?” The next hour was long. The screams, the pot banging, the whistle-blowing all stopped, and while they all knew that meant the people opposite had scared the bear off, they couldn’t help wondering where they had scared it off to. If it wasn’t across the way anymore, where had it gone? They kept the fire blazing at twice its usual size. Every now and again, they heard a crackle or a grunt from the woods – never sure whether it was something to worry about – and Nick would grab a flaming stick and wave it into the trees. But mostly, they sat in silence, listening, and Connor sat on the rock, watching. He couldn’t see much; the moon lit the water and the pale banks of the lake, but

beyond, the forest was dense and dark. “Can’t do this all night,” said Sam, “can we?” She looked at Nick, then the water, then Nick again. “If there’s no sign of him for a while it means he’s gone,” said Nick. “All our food’s in the barrel and there’s nothing to attract him here. I’ll swap with Connor in a –” “Hey!” Connor shouted, from his lookout post. “Nick, come quick!” Nick, Sam and Ella bounded up the boulder to Connor, who had one hand on the binoculars, one hand pointing to the water. “I heard a splash,” he said. “There’s something there, but it’s really dark and a long way off.” He handed Nick the binoculars. “Tell me it’s a beaver or an otter,” he said, quietly. Nick grabbed the binoculars while the other three squinted into the darkness. There was a long silence, the only sound a faint rustle of leaves and the water lapping at the beach. “Is it … ?” whispered Connor. Nick wiped the binoculars with his shirt, adjusted the focus and stared out across the lake again. Connor could feel his heart beating against his chest, feel the tiny hairs prickling the back of his neck. “Nick?” he said. “It’s a bear,” said Nick. For a second, no one spoke or moved. Connor saw Ella shuffle closer to Sam and quietly slip her hand into hers, but everyone knew Ella wasn’t the only one who was scared. “Sam, Ella, grab the pots and start banging,” said Nick. “Connor, get two paddles and hit them together as hard as you can. I’ll get some sticks from the fire.” In less than a minute they were on the beach, jumping up and down and

swinging their arms. “Away! Go!” screamed Nick, waving two fiery branches in the air. The bear was about halfway across and they could all see it, a sleek, shiny head, bobbing up and down. “Keep going!” shouted Nick to the others, “He’ll see us soon and turn back!” Connor wasn’t convinced. The bear didn’t look like it was about to turn back; it looked like it was heading straight for them. And if it didn’t turn around, they only had one option: to race back to the site and paddle across to the shore in the darkness and hope it didn’t follow them. And if it did? He’d be the first to it he hadn’t paid much attention when Uncle David went through this, but he was pretty sure there was no answer to that question. If a bear actually followed you – didn’t turn and run like it was supposed to – you were in trouble. Even if it didn’t follow them and they managed to get safely to the other side, then what? The people on the site might be friendly enough, but they probably wouldn’t have space for an extra four people in their tent, and he really didn’t like the idea of sitting up all night under the stars waiting for a bear to come visiting. “We need to get closer,” whispered Nick to Connor, out of earshot of the others. “It’s risky – we need to scare him off, but we don’t want to make him mad – but I think it’s our best shot.” Nick’s voice trembled. Mr Canoe Instructor had well and truly disappeared and Connor realised his cousin was scared – like, truly, actually scared. And that thought – even more than the bear heading their way – made Connor feel sick with dread. “Whatever you say,” said Connor. Nick turned to the others and said, “Follow us, quick! Make as much noise as you can!” They followed Nick up the shore – Sam sticking close to Ella all the way – and banged and waved and shouted for their lives. The bear was getting closer and closer and Connor could see its eyes and nose glistening in the moonlight. He waved and shouted and … hoped. If it didn’t back off in the next few seconds, he thought, they’d have to run back to the canoes, jump in and just paddle like crazy. They were all banging and stomping and yelling at the top of their lungs, but it didn’t seem to be making any difference. The bear just kept coming and

coming. “It’s turning!” shouted Nick, suddenly. “See! It’s turning!” Connor carried on banging and shouting and waving his arms, but soon realised Nick was right. It was turning. “It’s going back,” he said, feeling more relieved than he had ever felt in his life. “It really is going back.” They watched the bear swim in a broad sweep back towards the other shore. They kept up the noise until they saw it lumber up the beach and disappear into the trees, but in the opposite direction from the other campers, Connor noted with relief. He peered through his binoculars and when they were absolutely confident it had gone, when there was no sign of it, they stopped banging and shouting. They stood on the beach, breathless and exhausted, staring at the spot across the water where the bear had finally disappeared. “Man! That was close!” said Connor. “I thought …” said Sam, but stopped short. She put her arm around Ella, and Connor put his arm around her, Nick ruffled Ella’s hair, and they all stood together for a moment, quietly catching their breath. “We’re okay,” said Nick finally. “We’re all okay. Let’s get back to the site.” They walked up the beach, still checking behind them every few seconds, just to make sure, and as they reached their tent they heard a familiar voice from afar: “People on the island, are you okay?!” “Yes, thanks!” shouted Nick. “Your bear came for a visit, but we scared it off. Think it headed away from you.” “Well done! Hope that’s it for tonight.” “We hope so, too!”

chapter 20

Race you!

T hey sat around the fire, relieved and exhausted, but not the least bit sleepy. Their heads were buzzing and the adrenaline was still pumping – and no one felt like going to bed. Nick said he thought they’d seen the last of the bear – for tonight at least – though they all knew it was going to be tough getting through to the morning. “Is he really gone, Nick?” asked Ella, quietly. “’Cos you know bears have these really strong curved claws that can tear right through your flesh and fracture a bone, and if they hit an artery –” “Yup. Enough, Ell. That is all true, but actually very uncommon, especially with black bears.” “So, do we still need our life jackets, just in case it –” “Ell, we’re okay, I promise,” Nick said, removing his vest. “Take it off. Just keep it close, but we’re okay now.” “Is that the first time you’ve seen one?” asked Connor, as he slipped his life jacket off. He missed its weight instantly; it had been oddly comforting, he realised. “That close, yeah,” said Nick. “Wasn’t as big as I thought,” said Sam, poking at the fire. “I mean –” “Oh, sorry,” said Nick, “small bear no good? You wanted a bigger one did you, Sam? I’ll see what I can do next time.” “I just meant –”

“I know,” laughed Nick. “Thing is, it was scary, but we just did exactly what Dad always said, and it worked. Man! That bear was, like, twenty metres away and coming for us, and we scared him off!” It was good to talk – to calm things down and let the adrenaline – and slowly they started to feel sleepy. “Shall we leave the fire going?” asked Connor. “I know we don’t normally, but …” “It’s pretty small now,” said Nick. “It’d be good to have light if …” He broke off his sentence and put his arm around Ella who was dead on her feet. “Come on Elly,” he said. “Let’s go to bed.”

I t wasn’t long before they were all lying in their sleeping bags, trying not to listen to the noises of the night. Ella was asleep in seconds, but Nick, Connor and Sam struggled to sleep. Every time they heard a twig snap, or a leaf rustle, one of them would sit up suddenly, and Nick would poke his head out the fly screen for a look around. It was a difficult night, long and uncomfortable and, mostly, they just lay there waiting desperately for the first signs of morning. When it came, they were cold with exhaustion, but daylight at least made them feel safer. It was a mild morning, with no dew, and they were up and packed in less than half an hour. Nick suggested they clear out quickly and have breakfast just before the portage into Little Loon River. He seemed pretty sure they wouldn’t be getting another visit from the bear, but still, as he said, no point hanging around to see. Ella, who was the only one who had actually slept, had a bit more enthusiasm for the day. “Red sky in the morning …” she said, to a collective groan; they really weren’t in the mood for Ella’s early morning weather jingles. “Yeah, whatever,” they said, grabbing their paddles and climbing into the canoes.

T hey stopped at the portage and cooked up four bowls of hot, creamy porridge. “Portage is much shorter than yesterday’s,” said Nick, checking the map and licking his spoon. “Then it’s an easy run down Little Loon River into Safe Haven –” “Safe Haven from what?” asked Sam. “From Squall Lake, I suppose,” said Nick. “Then we paddle past Sandy Flats and up to Black Bear Island.” “Called Black Bear Island because … ?” asked Sam. “We’ve been to Black Bear a million times and never seen a bear,” said Nick. “Too many cottages and boats around. The bear’s gone, the water’s calm and the sky’s clear. Nothing’s going to go wrong today, okay?” “If you say so,” said Sam, gathering up the dishes and checking the site for any wayward crumbs. “And I’ve got an idea,” said Nick, digging out a pair of goggles from his sack. He dashed along the shore, waded into the water and swam out until he was directly beneath a high, rocky overhang. Then, all of sudden, he disappeared under water. Sam and Connor watched … and waited … and waited … and just as they were starting to get worried, Nick emerged breathless and smiling. “Perfect,” he shouted from the water. “No rocks or logs or anything. Meet you at the top.” Connor, Sam and Ella packed up the rest of the gear and scrambled up the rocks to a flat overhang. “What do you reckon?” said Sam, peering over the edge, “three, four metres?” “Higher than our house, for sure,” said Connor. “You reckon it’s okay to jump?” Sam asked. “We’ve done it before,” said Ella. “Not this one, but with my dad. As long as you check for rocks before.”

Nick came bounding up the rock and peered over the edge of the overhang. “Whoa!” he said. “Looks higher from up here.” And before anyone had a chance to agree, he disappeared over the edge, swinging his arms and legs and crashing into the water with an almighty splash. “Epic!” he shouted, emerging from the water seconds later. “Jump!” Ella did a quick run-up and launched herself over the edge, leaving Connor and Sam hovering at the top. “You up for it?” said Sam. “It’s okay if you don’t –” “I do. I’m fine. You go. I’ll follow.” “See you down there,” said Sam, taking a running jump and disappearing below. Connor peered over the edge. It was pretty high and he could see it was deep, too. But he felt … okay. He pulled off his T-shirt, chucked it aside and launched himself into the air. “Nice one,” said Nick, as Connor surfaced, flicking the hair out of his eyes. “Again?” said Sam. “Again,” said Connor, with a grin. For the next half hour, they took turns jumping: arms tight by their sides to see if they could touch the bottom (they couldn’t); knees grasped to their chins to see who could make the biggest bomb (Nick, no surprises there); and, finally, all holding hands in a row to see if they could stay upright (not a chance). They could have stayed there all day, but it was mid-morning already, and before long Nick decided it was time to get going.

I t’s a beaver dam,” said Ella, as they paddled towards the low wall of sticks and branches dividing the river. “We’ll have to do a lift-over to get to the other side.” “So what is a beaver dam exactly?” asked Sam, as they paddled to a stop.

“It’s like a food store,” explained Nick. “The beavers chew through the tree trunks and then swim them into position to make the dam. This is our lift-over, guys.” Connor groaned. His arms were still aching from this morning’s portage – he really didn’t want to have to get out and lug the canoe again. Plus, he was completely wiped from two days of non-stop paddling and no sleep. “Need a rest first?” Nick offered. Was that a smirk, or was it just … Nick? “Not me,” said Connor, quickly. Sam and Ella both said they were fine to go on, too. They paddled alongside the dam, stepped carefully out of their canoes and hauled them up and over the branches into the inlet that led to Squall Lake. “Should be a good, clear run to Black Bear,” said Nick, settling back into the canoe and picking up his paddle. “That water’s a bit choppy,” said Ella. “Wind’s changed. And it’s stronger, too –” “We need a decider,” interrupted Connor. “A what?” asked Nick. “A decider – for the fastest paddlers. We’re one-all on the races – you won Maple Bank to Black Bear and we won Otter’s Channel to the islands. Whoever gets to Black Bear first is the winner for the trip, yeah?” Connor would show Nick just how much energy he had. “Sure,” said Nick. “Hey, Ell, we’re racing okay? Canada versus the Aussies. Let’s go!” The four cousins dropped to their knees and dug their paddles in hard. They forgot all about the bear, about Uncle David, and focused on Black Bear Island ahead. As they emerged from the sheltered inlet, the wind picked up and swirled around

their heads and the still waters of Squall Lake quietly began to ripple into waves. Connor could see Nick paddling like his life depended on it, and he could tell Sam was going for it in the stern. Ella was yelling something at him, but the wind was really starting to howl, and he couldn’t hear a word. As Connor and Sam drew neck and neck with their cousins, Ella pointed into the air with her paddle. “There’s swallows,” she shouted at Connor. “Look!” “Nice try!” Connor yelled back. He wasn’t going to fall for that. “But Con!” yelled Ella, trying to make herself heard above the wind, “When the swallows fly high, the sun will be in the sky. When the swallows fly low, rain has not far to go.” “Not scared of a little rain, Ell,” panted Connor, paddling hard and pulling away from his cousins’ canoe. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a race to win!”

chapter 21

Squall Lake's summer surprise

T he two canoes sped through the bay that edged the east bank of Squall Lake, ing Maple Bank to the south and Rocky Ridge to the north. The water was getting more and more choppy, and the sky was clouding over quickly, but Nick and Connor were too focused on the race to really notice. The sting had gone out of the sun, and they paddled hard, overtaking each other, dropping back and overtaking again. Connor could just hear Ella shouting at Nick and sounding more and more frustrated. “It’s okay, we’re gaining on them,” yelled Nick. “No! ” shouted Ella, slapping her paddle on the water in frustration. “Look up there!” And then Connor saw it – a thick sheet of heavy rain coming right at them, and dark, swirling clouds above: one of Squall Lake’s infamous summer storms! Connor stopped paddling for a second and stared around the lake. When had that happened? Last time he’d looked, it was clear and sunny. And then his uncle’s voice popped into his head: If you’re out there when a summer storm hits, trust me, you’re in big trouble! Connor looked across at Nick, who had stopped paddling, too, and was staring into the distance. He looked worried, Connor thought, as the first drops of rain stung his face, and … maybe he should be. They were already beyond the shelter of the bay and the waves were starting to slap against the canoe. Connor did a quick check of their position – they were closer to Black Bear than Safe Haven, but not much. The way ahead was shorter, but more exposed, the way back, longer, but more sheltered – though not sheltered enough to protect them from

this. “What do you reckon?” he shouted across to Nick. Connor watched as Nick glanced forward, then back, making the same calculation that Connor had just done. “Forward!” Nick shouted, as the rain started to pour down. “Stick close and try to keep the bow pointing into the waves. You don’t want to broadside.” Connor turned to Sam. “Y’okay?” She gave him sharp nod and he turned back to the water, knelt low in the canoe and dug his paddle into the rippling water. It was hard with the wind and rain in his face and he had to squint to see. Man! That came quickly, he thought. He was already soaked through, and the water was sloshing around his knees in the bottom of the canoe. The waves picked up and hit them head on, and as each one rolled in, the canoes were scooped into the air and dropped down with a crash – up and down, up and down. With the wind hitting them hard, it was all they could do to keep the bow straight and the boat upright. If the waves kept coming from the same direction, Connor thought, and if they didn’t get any bigger, they might just be okay. Connor glanced up quickly to check their course. Black Bear Island was cloaked beneath a shelf of dark clouds, its mass barely visible beyond the dense sheet of rain. “Sam,” Connor said, “look! ” Connor glanced back at his sister, who stared at the storm, opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything. He could have kicked himself. What had they been thinking earlier? Nick always took a bearing when they crossed into a new lake, but the sky was clear after their lift-over, the fear of the night before had finally lifted and, well … he’d been too focused on trying to beat Nick. Connor dug his paddle in again, his face smarting against the biting rain. He didn’t want to believe it, but the waves were getting bigger by the minute and the wind was shifting, too. He realised it was taking all his and Sam’s strength and skill to keep them afloat. Nick and Ella were about eight or ten metres off and were being tossed around like a piece of driftwood – they were paddling hard,

too, but going around in circles. Connor could just hear Nick shouting at Ella to draw on her left, to bring them up closer to him and Sam. Slowly, with all of them drawing hard, they edged towards each other, but with the wind shifting it was impossible to get close enough to hook up. “You okay?” Nick shouted through the pelting rain. “No!” yelled Sam. “Keep the bow pointing into the waves. Be okay.” “Easier said than done,” shouted Sam. Connor wedged his knees in tightly, bowed his head against the pelting rain and paddled for his life. In normal conditions, he thought, they’d zip across the lake, no problem, but now, no matter how hard they paddled, the waves just tossed them back. He could still see the near side of Black Bear, but even with a clear line of sight it would take them all day to reach it in these conditions. Another wave crashed over his knees and though he really didn’t want to it it, he knew the lake was churning and tumbling as much as any ocean – as much as the ocean that nearly took him last summer. He tried to put that out of his mind and to concentrate on his paddling. He knew they had no chance of getting to Black Bear, but if they could just stay upright long enough for the worst of the storm to , and if the wind dropped and the waves settled, they might not end up in the lake. Nick and Ella weren’t that far away, but it was impossible to get closer. Connor turned to Sam, who was doing her best to keep the canoe upright, but the storm was getting worse. The waves were coming at them in every direction and the canoe was swinging around like a fairground ride. Every now and again, the water crashed over the bow and sloshed around the bottom of the canoe. Connor pushed the matted hair out of his eyes and yelled through the rain, “Sam, don’t worry about direction. Just keep us upright!” “I’m trying, Con!” she yelled. “Got no control!” “Try and get closer to Nick. Draw on your right!” “I’m trying,” yelled Sam, as she struggled to draw the canoe closer to their

cousins’. “But these waves!” The two canoes fought against the wind and waves, drifting back rather than moving forward. Connor was desperately trying to work out what they could do, but it wasn’t as if they had many options, and then something happened that made the decision for them. Just beyond Nick and Ella’s canoe, Connor saw a huge wave heading straight for them all. It was barely metres away and in the split second before it hit he yelled at the top of his voice, “Broadside! Wave coming broadside! Look out! ”

chapter 22

Face the fear

T here was nothing Connor and Sam could do. The wave lifted them, rolled them and tipped them into the lake. Connor’s life – or one horrible part of it – flashed before him, and as he sank into the water, he felt like he was going down and down and never coming up. Part of him knew he wasn’t in a rip, wasn’t going to be swept out to sea. Part of him knew he was wearing a life jacket and that his sister and cousins were close, but as he tumbled out of the canoe and into the dark, swirling waters it was difficult to hang on to any of that. As he came up, gasping for air, he saw a flash of the red canoe and Sam’s yellow life jacket, but the rain was so heavy and the waves so choppy they kept shifting in and out of sight. He tried to breathe, to calm himself, to push away the panic. Suddenly, he was aware of his name being called, and he spun around to see Sam yelling at him from across the water, “Con! You okay? Con!” “Yeah! … No!” he yelled. “The canoe!” she yelled. “Swim to the canoe!” Yes! The canoe, thought Connor. Of course: get to the canoe and hang on. But he was a good five or six metres away, and it was drifting, fast. He could see Sam forcing her way through the waves towards it and he knew he just had to stay calm and swim. He flung one arm in front of the other and kicked his legs, but a few seconds later, a wave picked him up and dumped him right back where he’d started. He bobbed up, searched around for the canoe again, and swam, but a wall of water washed across his face and left him coughing and spluttering for air. He could see Sam now, hanging onto the upturned stern. She was watching him, shouting to him, desperately urging him to swim closer. If he could just cover those few metres between them, he thought, he’d be all right. But the water was

swirling, and the more he struggled, the more he drifted back. He looked up and saw Sam’s face in the distance. Was she further away? Was he being swept back? He couldn’t tell, exactly, but in that instant there was one thing he was sure of: he was in trouble, big trouble. He could hear Sam yelling his name, but every time he tried to call out he swallowed mouthfuls of water. The rain was sweeping across in a vast curtain and the sky had turned black. Connor wasn’t sure how he was going to make it to that canoe. It didn’t seem like he’d been in the water long, but his arms were heavy and it was hard to breathe. And as the water rose and fell once more, he suddenly realised he couldn’t see the canoe. And he couldn’t see Sam. His head was spinning and he felt panic rising in his chest and squashing his lungs. All he could think of was that he’d been trying to get to that canoe, to hang on, to be safe, and now the canoe had disappeared and he couldn’t see Sam and he didn’t know what to do next. And then, suddenly, he heard his name again, closer than before, and he spun around and saw Sam a few metres away. She was swimming towards him with long, strong strokes that ate up the water between them. He tried to focus on his sister, to keep breathing, and to keep his face out of the waves. The next thing he knew Sam had grabbed the strap at the top of his life jacket and he was on his back, looking up at the black sky as she hauled him through the water. He knew he was being dragged, that Sam was pulling him through the storm and he wanted to help her, help himself, but it was as much as he could do to keep his head above the water and the water out of his lungs. Sam was going for it – he could feel that – she wasn’t stopping to breathe or rest or anything. He knew they only had one shot at this – that if they didn’t get to the canoe quickly, it would be swept away beyond their reach. He could feel Sam kicking and swinging her one free arm as the whitecaps crashed over them and the rain pelted down. A huge wave swept across them and he felt himself go down. His chest tightened – he had used up all his breath and he didn’t have any left to hold under water. As he came up he gasped at the air, sucking it in and filling his lungs. Another wave smothered his face and this time he thought he wasn’t going to make it – he couldn’t breathe, he needed air … and then he felt a sudden breeze on his face and a bump on the back of his head. The canoe! He had hit the canoe! Connor turned and flung his arms over the hull and Sam followed. He took a few deep breaths and slowly, as the seconds

ed, he realised he was going to be all right. The canoe was slippery and hard to hold onto, but he gripped tightly on the gunwales. He was safe. Sam was next to him, clinging to the hull and taking huge, gasping breaths, her whole body heaving. “All right?” yelled Connor. Sam nodded. She had no breath for words. Connor quickly scanned the lake, searching for his cousins. He spotted their canoe about seven or eight metres away, and saw Nick paddling like crazy in the stern. Connor looked to the bow, but there was no one there. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He looked back at Nick and saw a look of such fear on his face that he knew he wasn’t mistaken. Where was Ella!? She should have been in the bow, but she wasn’t. Where was Ella? “Sam,” said Connor, through deep breaths, “Look! No Ella! Must have gone in!” Sam was still struggling for breath and managed a desperate, “Oh no!” Connor looked at his sister and then out towards Nick and back at Sam. Sam had had it for sure. She’d used up every drop of energy rescuing him and the only thing she could do now was hang on to that canoe for dear life. Connor didn’t want to think about what he had to do next, but his cousin was in the water and Nick looked so scared, and Sam was exhausted … and Connor knew: it was down to him. He had to let go of the canoe. He had to leave Sam. He had to swim back into the dark, swirling waters of the storm. He had to help Nick rescue Ella: that was all there was to it. He turned to Sam. “You be all right?” he said. “Going to get Ell.” And, before he had time to think about what he was doing, before he had time to change his mind, he let go of the canoe and launched into the churning water.

chapter 23

Look after Ella for me!

C onnor summoned all his strength, forced his arms through the water and kicked his legs hard. With the rain still pelting against his face, it was difficult to see, but he focused on Nick and eventually got close enough to the canoe to see Ella in the water. She’d somehow made it to the canoe – or Nick had made it to her – and she was hanging off the stern. She looked weak and white and scared. Nick was leaning over and trying to haul her in, but Ella was a dead weight and no matter how hard Nick tried, he just couldn’t lift her. Suddenly, Uncle David’s words crashed into Connor’s head: Look after Ella for me! He was trying desperately to keep his face clear of the water as wave after wave broke over him. He tightened his stroke, pushing himself through the waves, and gradually edged towards his cousins’ canoe. He was close now, and with one final effort he swam the last two metres, reached out and touched the canoe. He pulled himself around the gunwales to the stern and put his hand on Ella’s shoulder. “Gidday Ell,” he said, breathing heavily. “Need some help?” Ella didn’t speak and didn’t smile and Connor realised she was very, very frightened. “It’s okay, Ell,” he said, putting his hand gently on her arm. “We’ll get you in.” Connor stared up at Nick, who was leaning over the stern. This was one time Connor would have been happy to see Mr Canoe Instructor, but all the confidence had drained from his cousin and he looked … well, he looked terrified. “You pull, I’ll lift,” Connor yelled up to him.

Nick bent lower and grabbed the shoulders of Ella’s life jacket. “It’s okay, Ell,” he said. “I’ve got you, I promise. It’s okay.” The canoe careened wildly from side to side in the buffeting waves, and Connor could tell it was taking all Nick’s effort to keep his balance as he gripped Ella. Connor put a hand either side of Ella’s waist, and on the count of three he lifted with all his might, and Nick pulled, and somehow – magically, it seemed to Connor – Ella flopped over the gunwales into the canoe. “Got you!” said Nick, helping her onto the seat. “Sit. You’re okay. You’re safe now.” Connor clung to the stern as the canoe thrashed around in the water. Ella’s paddle swept towards him on a wave, struck his shoulder and clattered against the side of the canoe. He grabbed it and ed it up to Nick. His lungs were burning and his arms felt like rubber. “Throw me the rope!” he shouted to Nick. Nick scrabbled around the canoe and threw down the dripping stern rope. “Is Sam okay?” he yelled. “Yeah,” shouted Connor, above the rain, “But we need to get over there!” “We’ll do canoe-over-canoe. Hang on!” Nick shouted. Mr Canoe Instructor was back. Connor gripped the rope at the back of Nick’s canoe and swam with one arm as Nick fought his way through the churning waves to Sam. Sam was still breathing heavily and clinging to the hull when they got there. “We’re going to do canoe-over-canoe!” Connor yelled, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Grab the gunwales and go around to Nick’s bow!” “Is Ell okay?” she shouted, as she lunged forward and grabbed Nick’s canoe. “Yeah, she’s okay.” Connor grabbed hold of his canoe. In the waves, it was much harder to line it up perpendicular to Nick and Ella’s, but he finally got it.

“Well done!” yelled Nick. “Do the lift and I’ll pull it over!” Connor grabbed the stern of his canoe while Nick struggled to stay in position. Connor knew he’d have to do this right first time – he’d had all the practice he was going to get. “Go!” shouted Nick through the pelting rain and Connor grabbed the hull and launched himself up in one swift move. The stern sank down and the bow popped up: they were over the gunwales! Connor swam around to Nick’s bow and he, Sam and Ella watched Nick desperately grabbing at the canoe, inching it across the gunwales with all the strength he had left. He managed, slowly, to haul it across and let the water run out. He flipped the canoe over and lowered it onto the lake, the two hulls crashing as the waves tossed them about. Connor grabbed the end of his canoe and brought it parallel with Nick’s. This bit had been easy when they’d done it during practice, he thought – all calm and still and they just hopped up – but both canoes were tipping wildly and getting back in wasn’t going to be easy. He hooked one arm over the gunwales of Nick’s canoe and one over the gunwales of his own and held them as steady as he could. “Sam!” he yelled, “Get in!” Sam positioned herself between the two canoes, one hand on each, and with every drop of energy she had left, launched herself up and into the canoe. Connor waited for a second, until there was a gap in the waves and the canoes were steady, and then he hauled himself up and crashed over the gunwales. Finally, they were all back in their canoes. They sat for a moment in silence. Connor checked to see if Ella was okay; she was so drained she looked almost blue, and as she crouched against the battering waves, Connor thought she seemed even smaller than usual. He looked around for a sign the storm was ing. Through the haze, he could make out Black Bear Island to his right, which was good, at least – though when he looked left he realised that the storm had swept them further out, towards

Heron Island. It was hard to tell which was closer. Maybe the rain was easing – maybe it wasn’t – and they still had the problem of their gear: the barrel would float forever, but not the daypack. If they could ride out the next fifteen minutes or so they might be okay; the islands, the shore, were both still a long way off, and he knew none of them had much fight left in them. “The gear!” shouted Nick, wearily. “I see the barrel, but not the daypack.” Connor scanned the lake, though it was hard to focus on anything with the canoe lurching up and down and the rain still pelting. “I see it!” he yelled. “Close to the barrel.” “Let’s get them,” shouted Nick. “Stick close.” It was still hard going, and even if the rain had eased slightly, the wind hadn’t. Their barrel and pack were bouncing on the waves, and the four cousins slowly fought their way towards them. Connor reckoned they had enough energy to get the gear, but after that, he wasn’t sure. It couldn’t last forever, he thought, desperately looking for some sign the storm was breaking. They reached the barrel and lined the canoes up either side. Connor grabbed the harness and hauled it on board. The pack was more difficult, heavier and awkward, and it took Nick pushing and Connor pulling to finally drag it over the gunwales. They’d done it, thought Connor. They’d got the four of them and all their stuff back in and they were safe … for the time being, at least. But they were weak and exhausted, and he wasn’t sure how they were going to make it to land. He leant over to hook up with Nick, but as he touched the gunwales, he felt a strange sensation in the bottom of the canoe – as if the hull was scraping against something, but how could that be? And then they stopped dead. Absolutely dead. They had run aground. Nick looked up and gave his cousins the biggest, broadest smile they had ever seen. “Sandy Flats,” he said. “We’ve run aground on Sandy Flats!”

chapter 24

Finding dry land

C onnor stepped out of the canoe and onto the sand, the water reaching just above his ankles. He looked over towards Black Bear Island, which glistened back at him, green and sparkling. Above the trees, a tiny patch of blue peeked through the clouds. “It’s clearing,” he said. Nick, Sam and Ella clambered out of the canoes and pulled them up the sand bar. “Rain’s lighter,” said Nick, “and the wind’s dropped already. We can wait here ’til it es, then head over. Everyone okay? Sam?” “Yeah, I’m okay. What about you, Ell?” The three older cousins looked at Ella, who was staring at her feet. Sam grabbed the daypack, pulled out a bag of gorp and held it out to Ella. “Bit soggy, but it’s okay,” she said. Ella grabbed a fistful of damp nuts and M&Ms. “You did really well out there, you know,” said Sam. “You okay?” “S’pose,” Ella mumbled, her eyes still on her feet.

I n less than fifteen minutes, the storm had ed and the lake was calm again, the sky clear and blue. The four cousins, soaked through and shivering, hovered by the canoes in silence. It was hard to know what to do. They didn’t want to get back into the canoes again, that was for sure, but now the storm had ed they really needed to get to Black Bear Island as quickly as possible.

“What do you reckon?” Connor said. “Go?” Nick and Sam nodded and Ella gave a barely perceptible shrug. Ella was looking completely wiped out; the quicker they changed into warm clothes and had a hot drink, the better. Nick clearly had the same idea. “Okay guys, listen up,” he said. “Let’s paddle over to Black Bear – the storm’s ed and it’s completely safe. We’ll stick close and take it slow.” Ella said nothing and Nick put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s going be okay, Elly” he said. “The lake’s calm and we’ll take it easy.” Nick took one last look at the sky. There was not a cloud in sight, and virtually no wind, but he grabbed his map and com and took a bearing anyway. They pushed the canoes off the sandbank and headed towards the island. It was a silent trip. They paddled steadily, carefully, keeping one eye on the weather the whole time. The storm had swept them way off course, and they had to backtrack towards where they’d tipped. Connor got his binoculars out of the sopping daypack and checked the sky in the distance. “It’s clear,” he said to Sam. “Storm’ll be miles away by now.” He turned and focused his binoculars on Maple Bank and Heron Island. “Hmm,” he said, quietly to himself. “Hmm what?” said Sam from the stern. “I reckon this is near where we tipped. You can see right through to the cottage – with the binoculars – from just here.” “Yeah, so?” asked Sam. “Well, that means you should be able to see right through to here from the cottage.” “You don’t think Uncle David saw us do you?” said Sam.

“No. He’d have had to have been looking through binoculars. And from the boathouse, or even the lounge room, Heron Island’s in the way. Besides, I think if he’d seen us, we’d know about it by now!” Connor hooked the binoculars onto his shorts and grabbed his paddle. “Actually,” he added, “I wasn’t thinking about Uncle David. I was wondering what someone else might have been able to see.”

T hey set up camp, changed into dry clothes and got a fire going and Nick dished up four huge bowls of pasta with bolognaise sauce and extra vegetables. It was just what they needed and, to everyone’s relief, Ella spooned her bowl clean. When they were all finished, Nick pulled out biscuits, marshmallows and chocolate chips from the bottom of the barrel. “Got your favourite dessert, Ell,” he said. “You want to help make s’mores?” Ella shrugged and shook her head. Everyone was quiet for a moment, then Sam asked, “S’mores?” “Short for I want some more,” explained Nick, threading a marshmallow onto a stick and balancing it above the hot coals. “Chocolate chips and melted marshmallow squashed between two Graham crackers. Awesome!” Over the next half hour, Nick made a dozen s’mores and Sam and Connor decided that the chocolate bananas and fondue were good, and the belly buttons were really good, but the s’mores might just be the best. Ella was looking a bit less pale, though she was still unusually quiet. “Come on Elly,” said Nick to his sister, after she’d managed to eat some dessert. “I’ll take you to bed.” Ella mumbled a quiet “goodnight” and slipped her hand into Nick’s.

T he three older cousins sat around the fire. It felt like they should talk about the day, but no one really knew where to start. “Think she’ll be okay?” asked Sam, finally. “She’s pretty tough,” said Nick, “but I’ve never seen her like this before.” “Maybe once we’re back at the cottage and your mum’s there,” said Sam. “Oh man! What are we going to tell my mom and dad?” said Nick, hitting the fire with his stick. “My paddling career’s over, that’s for sure!” “Can’t really not tell them, can we?” said Sam. “I mean, with Ella and everything. They’re going to know something’s up.” “Look,” said Connor, “I know your dad’s a pain sometimes, but you did okay out there. Yeah, we stuffed up; we were racing when we should have been concentrating, but you did everything you should have done.” He did more than that actually, Connor thought. He didn’t panic, and that was the most important thing. He kept calm and looked like he was in control – even if he was terrified – and that had helped Connor keep calm. And even though canoe-over-canoe rescue when they were getting half-drowned in a storm was really, really hard, they’d done it, and they were all okay. “Nick, honestly, you had that.” Nick lifted his head and looked right at his cousin. “Thanks,” he said. “You’re welcome,” said Connor. “We’ll tell your dad all that, too,” said Sam. “It’ll be okay.” “But I think the last race goes to the little Aussies, eh?” said Connor, raising an eyebrow. A hint of a smile ed over Nick’s face. The eerie call of a loon echoed across the lake and the three cousins stamped out the fire and crawled into the tent. Connor found it hard to sleep – he couldn’t stop going over it in his head. They’d all survived, and Ella would be fine, but … well, he wasn’t really feeling good about the whole thing. He didn’t know

what had happened out there; he must have panicked because of the rip last summer, and if it hadn’t been for Sam – well, who knows? “Sam,” he whispered, “you awake?” “Yeah.” “You know … today?” said Connor. “Ye-ah.” “Well, I … it was, well … Thanks.” “That’s okay,” said Sam. “It’s just that …” “Con, don’t beat yourself up,” said Sam. “You got Ella back in, . I was so wiped out and Nick couldn’t have done it without you.” “He’s right, Con,” said a sleepy Nick from the end of the tent. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t turned up when you did. Honest, I’d had it, too.”

chapter 25

Heading home

T hey’re all there,” said Connor, as they approached the cottage, “The Official Cottage Welcoming Committee.” The two canoes swung into the dock to big smiles and cries of “Welcome home! ” “Did I miss much?” said Jen. “I bet it was really boring and no fun at all?” “You look like you’re all still in one piece,” said Uncle David, grabbing Connor and Sam’s canoe and pulling it against the dock. “How did you go?” “Epic, Uncle David!” said Connor. “Best thing I’ve ever done.” “Hmm … epic?” said Sal, reaching down to steady the canoe. “That’s good!” said Uncle David. “Nick?” “Yeah it was … great, Dad, like Connor said … epic.” Nick grabbed his dad’s hand and stepped onto the dock. Ella jumped out of the canoe, rushed over to her mum and flung her arms around her. Everyone stopped for a second and stared, first at Ella and then at Nick. “So … something we should know about?” said Uncle David. “Yeah,” said Nick, looking his dad straight in the eye. “There is.”

I t was a difficult afternoon. Nick and his dad stayed on the dock while the others went up to the cottage. Sam and Connor sat on the couch and told the whole

story to The Mums, Gran and Grandpa and Aunty Lou. Ella said nothing. “Crikey!” said Sal. “I wanted you to have a wilderness experience, but that wasn’t quite what I had in mind.” “Well you’ve certainly all been through it,” said Aunty Lou, giving Ella a hug. “Sounds like the race business was pretty silly, but at least you did everything right after that.” “Well, I hope Uncle David sees –” Nick opened the door and cut Connor off. “My dad wants to talk to you both,” he said, with a grim look, “on the dock.” Connor felt sick – he didn’t want to make it any worse for Nick, but there was no point trying to cover it up or make excuses. He would just tell it how it was and hope for the best. “You’ll be okay,” said Jen, as Connor and Sam stood up. “Just tell him exactly what you told us.” Connor and Sam explained – one at a time – exactly what had happened and Uncle David nodded and asked questions. Connor waited for the lecture to start, for Uncle David to say how angry and disappointed he was, that it was the last time they’d be allowed out on their own – but he didn’t say anything at all, and that was worse. They headed back up to the cottage, where everyone was hovering, quiet and awkward. Aunty Lou broke the silence by announcing afternoon tea and handing around a tray of fresh chocolate chip muffins and a jug of pink lemonade, as they all found a seat in the lounge. The Mums gave Connor and Sam a reassuring smile, or at least Connor hoped that’s what it was, but Uncle David still hadn’t said anything, and Connor just couldn’t see how this was going to end any way but badly. Uncle David perched on the end of the couch. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” he said, shaking his head. “Guys, you

messed up! I’m sorry, but there’s just no other way to say it. You ignored everything you’d learnt about safety and weather and you missed all the warning signs when they were staring you in the face!” Connor caught Nick’s eye. He’d guessed right. No way was his uncle ever going to let him go paddling on his own again. No way he’d let him do his next ORCKA certificate. “You were racing, for heaven’s sake!” he continued. “Across open water in clearly unsettled weather. What were you thinking? ” The four cousins said nothing. There really wasn’t a good answer to that question, and they knew it was one of those questions adults ask that doesn’t really have an answer and you just get yourself in more trouble if you try to think one up. “But,” continued Uncle David, with a heavy sigh, “having said that, it sounds like you did a remarkable job of recovering. Nick, you kept your head and you didn’t panic. I know how hard it is to handle a canoe on your own in those conditions, just to keep afloat is tough enough, let alone rescue someone from the water and then execute a successful canoe-over-canoe rescue. You did well.” Nick looked up at his dad. None of them could quite believe what they were hearing. Was Connor hearing this right: did Uncle David just say, you did well? He wasn’t going to ground them all for the rest of the holiday, or tell them they could never set foot in a canoe again? “And you, Sam,” continued Uncle David, “thank God one of you was using your head. Hauling your brother though the water like that, in the middle of a raging storm, that was extraordinary. Really, Sam, you should be proud of yourself.” Sam nodded and buried her face in her pink lemonade. “And as for you, Mr Harding …” Connor felt sick as Uncle David said his name. He knew he’d panicked and Sam had risked herself to save him. So much for feel the fear and face it. Feel the fear and fail, more like. He’d let everybody down and they all knew it. “You had a nasty experience last summer,” said Uncle David.

Connor looked up, surprised. So they’d known all along. “I know you didn’t want us to know,” Uncle David continued, “but your moms thought we should, and they were right. That would have made yesterday especially hard for you, but you took your hand off that canoe and threw yourself into the water – even though you must have been terrified – and you got Ella back in safely. You might not see it this way, Connor, but you were very brave.” Connor took a deep breath and exhaled as if he was breathing out all the worry and panic and guilt of the last twenty-four hours. He saw his mum grab his mama’s hand and they both smiled at him, one of those embarrassing smiles, like when he got a good school report. But right now, he was pretty happy with that. “Thanks, Uncle David,” he said. “You’re welcome. And if you ever pull a stunt like that again, your canoeing days are over. Got it?” “Yes, Uncle.” “And as for you, young lady,” said Uncle David, ruffling Ella’s hair. “Looks to me like you were the only one paying attention. But nobody paid any attention to you. Next time I think I’ll put you in charge. What do you think, sweetheart?” “Red sky in the morning, sailor’s warning! ” said Ella. “That’s how I knew the weather would get worse. And the swallows, too, just before a storm they fly low to get the insects.” “That’s right, Ella. You guys all listening to this?” Ella flung her arms around her dad and relief spread through the room. It was okay. Ella was going to be okay. “So,” said Nick with a smile. “I’ve got some great ideas for our next trip.” Uncle David laughed. “Let’s get over this one first eh, Nick? But as I see it, there’s no way you’ll make a mistake like that again, and you’ve all proved you can keep your head in a crisis, and that you’ve got the skills to handle it.” “Thanks, Dad,” said Nick.

“And there’s one more thing that seems to have been overlooked in all this excitement … You guys weren’t the only ones who stuffed up.” The room suddenly went quiet and everyone stared at the floor. So much had happened in the last two days they’d all forgotten about Uncle David’s unscheduled visit. “I owe you all an apology – especially you, Nick,” he said. “I shouldn’t have followed you. You were absolutely right; we had a deal and I should have listened to your mother and stayed put. It’s just that, sometimes adults, you know … get scared too, in a different way.” “That’s cool, Dad,” said Nick, quietly. “We forgive you, Uncle David,” said Connor, “but if you ever pull a stunt like that again –” “Don’t push your luck, buddy,” said his uncle, with a hint of a smile. “Still a small matter of some rapids …” “Ah, yes,” Connor smiled. “Well more like ripples really, Uncle …” Sam interrupted before either of them could say anything else, “Now that’s all sorted,” she said, “who wants to hear how we almost got eaten by a bear!?”

chapter 26

Only one way to find out #2

I ’m going to wish I’d never asked,” said Sam, as they sat in the attic in their pyjamas, “but … what’s your idea?” “Well,” said Connor, “Grandma Maple saw something, right? Had a heart attack. Died.” “Yeah, okay.” said Sam. “And you can see Heron Island and Maple Bank from her room, but you can’t see Sandy Flats.” “So what?” said Sam. “I need to know exactly what you can see when you’re sitting in Grandma Maple’s chair.” “But what about the curse, Con?” said Ella. “And Grandma and the old tinker’s dog?” “Thing is, Ell,” said Connor, grinning, “after what we’ve been through these last few days, that curse doesn’t seem half so scary now.”

C onnor announced his intentions at breakfast the next day. There was an abrupt silence and for a moment he thought he’d misjudged it again. His mums looked across the table at each other and Sal glanced at Gran, and Uncle David looked at Aunty Lou, and eventually it was Grandpa who broke the silence. “Well, I for one think that’s an excellent idea, son,” he said. “And not a moment too soon, if I’m allowed to say.”

“Yes, yes, you are allowed to say,” said Gran, shaking her head. “I know it’s time. You go ahead, Connor.”

A fter breakfast, they all gathered outside the cottage next to Grandma Maple’s room. “So, if you are wrong,” said Nick, “and there is a curse and you do die, can I have your binoculars?” “Very funny,” said Connor, taking a deep breath and sliding through the gap in the boards. The cousins followed, while the adults hovered outside the window. “Okay,” Connor said, interlocking his fingers and stretching them out in front of him. “Let’s check out this chair.” He stepped closer and stood with his back to the window, facing the chair, then walked around each side and looked out towards the lake. Apart from being covered in dust, the chair looked old but sturdy and, Connor thought, unremarkable. “You sitting today, Con, or just browsing?” said Nick. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sitting,” said Connor. “Just give me a minute.” He walked around to the front of the chair, his back to the seat, and took a long, deep breath. “Are you sure, Con?” said Ella, who was back to her old self again. “Because you might not die straight away, it might not be like that. The curse might be like some slow, painful disease where your flesh gets eaten and your blood boils and –” “Ella! Stop. Just. Stop,” Connor said, holding a hand up against Ella’s protest. “But –” “Stop, Ell,” Nick agreed. “No flesh eating. No blood boiling.” Connor looked around at his sister and cousins, who were staring at him like they were about to watch a horror movie. “Someone bring popcorn?”

“Just do it, will you?” they chorused. “Okay!” he said, “I’m doing it,” and a second later, he lowered himself into Grandma Maple’s chair. No lightning bolt. No earthquake. He paused a moment and then slowly lowered his arms onto the armrests. It was strange, sitting there like that, just as Grandma Maple had before she died … but it was also, well, kind of … ordinary. “So, not dead yet?” said Jen, peering through the window. “Nup, not dead,” said Connor. “And no near-fatal injuries, either.” Poor Grandma Maple, thought Connor. This was her favourite spot, and he could see why – the view was spectacular. It would have been quiet and cool and peaceful – and then something terrible had happened. “Terminally ill, then?” said Sal, leaning on the window ledge. “Not dizzy, or faint, or sick?” “Nup, feel great,” said Connor, grabbing the binoculars from his belt and peering through the window. He could see the branches of the maple trees rustling in the wind, a heron swooping across the water, and a cloud or two floating across a clear blue sky. “I reckon I can see where we tipped, but not where we ran aground.” “So what?” said Nick. “I’ve got a theory,” said Connor, “but we need to find out what the weather was like the day Grandma Maple died.” “There was something about the weather in that report we read,” said Sam, “but I can’t .” “And Mum,” said Connor, “do you know when binoculars were invented?” “I may be old, Connor, but I’m not quite old enough for that,” Sal replied. “You might have to Google that one.”

H alf an hour later, the four cousins were back in the attic, bundles of old papers strewn across the floor. Their Google search had left them none the wiser – although they’d discovered that binoculars had been invented at the time of Grandma Maple’s death, it was unclear whether they would have been widely available. And even less certain whether they’d have found their way to rural Canada. “The answer’s here somewhere,” said Connor, kneeling to rummage through a box. “Find that report on the Dominion Day celebrations.” “It’s here,” said Sam, grabbing a copy of The Rokeby Independent. She opened it up and began reading: “The people of Rokeby did their town proud this Dominion Day, turning out in large numbers to celebrate the Confederation of our Great Nation despite the threat of inclement weather –” “Inclement weather, what does that mean?” asked Connor. “Bad weather, like, stormy,” Nick said. “I knew it!” said Connor. “I reckon the day Grandma Maple died, there was a storm – one of Squall Lake’s famous summer storms, just like the one we had – and someone ended up in trouble. Keep reading.” “The Mayor, Mr Jason MacSheen, after an eventful journey, arrived just in time to open the Grand Fair –” “He was late!” said Connor. “He was the mayor, he was meant to be opening the show and he arrived just in time, and he had an eventful journey. Something happened on the way, it must have … He would have been going by canoe, wouldn’t he? And he could have got caught in the storm, exactly like we did. Maybe he tipped and ran aground on Sandy Flats – we know that’s not hard to do when a storm picks up.” “And Grandma Maple could have seen him tipped and tossed about by the storm,” said Sam, “but she wouldn’t have seen him run aground, because you can’t see Sandy Flats from her chair.” “Exactly!” said Connor. “Do you think that would have been enough to kill her, though?” asked Nick.

“Seeing someone die?” Connor said. “Not being able to do anything about it? She was old, right? Sure it could.” “But there’s no way she would have been able to see that far,” said Sam. “I know. No binoculars. But it’s the only thing that makes sense,” said Connor, ignoring the tiny voice in his head reminding him there was one other possibility. “Everything else adds up.” “So, where does that leave us?” asked Nick. “Well, I’m not dead, so clearly there’s no curse – at least we know that for sure now.” “But, maybe …” said Ella. “I mean, the tinker’s dog didn’t die straight away. Maybe it takes a while to work.” “Thanks, Ell,” Connor smiled. “But I feel completely fine. The only thing I’m sick of is talking about this curse.” “What next, then?” asked Sam. Connor ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but if there wasn’t a curse, and if Grandma Maple couldn’t actually see what he thought she’d seen, there was only one answer. But how could he possibly tell them he was beginning to think that Grandma Maple really had been killed by … a Sasquatch?

chapter 27

Laying the curse to rest

T here’s a lot of dead rellies in here, Gran,” Connor said, dumping the second box of old photos they’d found onto the couch. After the Great Chair Sit In, Gran had asked Connor to bring down all the boxes so she could have a proper look through them. “Thank you, Connor,” she said, smiling. “Sam found letters and old papers and all sorts of stuff.” “That’s great, love,” she said, rummaging through the first box. “Haven’t looked at these photos in decades.” It felt good, Connor thought, to have done something that made his gran feel better, less worried. She could look through those photos and all that stuff now, without feeling anxious. Then he ed Grandma Maple’s book with the drawings. He should have given it to her before, but with everything going on he’d kind of forgotten. “Back in a sec, Gran,” he said, running out of the room. Connor grabbed the book and ran back down to Gran, who was nestled on the couch. He held it out to her. “Sam found this the first day we started looking for … clues. Sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner.” Gran took the book from Connor and opened the cover. “It’s Mary,” she said, flipping the pages, slowly. Her eyes were misty, but she was smiling.

“Yeah, she drew the garden, the cottage, everything.” “Oh, lovely,” said Gran. “Thank you, Connor. And thank Sam for me.” “Well, I’ll leave you to it, Gran,” said Connor, getting up and heading towards the door. “Sadly, I’m required in the boathouse for packing duties.” Connor had promised his mums he’d take a break from The Great Almost Solved Family Mystery and help with the packing up. They had a few days left, but The Mums were keen to get the boathouse tidied before they all got stuck into the house. “Yes, yes,” said Gran, gently setting the book aside and returning her attention to the box. Connor smiled and turned to leave, but as he pushed open the screen door, he heard Gran mutter something to herself and he stopped. He turned slowly towards her. “Gran,” he said, “what did you just say?” “Oh, I was just saying I haven’t seen this in decades. It’s been knocking around since I was a girl and we never did find its occupant. Look, it’s an old spyglass case …” Connor stared as his gran held up the brown leather, cylindrical case with the clasp and the strap, the one that he and Sam had laughed about containing poison. “You know, darling, a spyglass, like in the old pirate movies. They’ve been around forever. It’s what they used before binoc –” “Binoculars, Gran. Spyglasses were what they used before binoculars. And you’re holding an empty spyglass case which means …” Connor leapt forward, kissed his gran and grabbed the case. “Sam! Nick! Ella! I’ve got it!” he yelled, running out of the cottage towards the boathouse. “Look! I’ve got it!”

W ithin minutes, all four cousins were back in Grandma Maple’s room. Connor

was on his hands and knees, scouring the floor. “It’s got to be here somewhere,” he muttered. “Well, the floor slopes this way,” Sam pointed out, standing near the window and looking along the length of the wall. From his crouched position, Connor could see a small gap below the window where the floor had sagged away from the wall. He crawled over, slid his fingertips into the space and groped in the dirt. The stumps were completely rotten and the floor was being held up by mud, as far as he could tell. He lay flat on the floor, forcing his hand into the muddy gap. A moment later he pulled it out and there – cradled in his palm – was an ancient, rusted, mudcovered spyglass. “She must have dropped it when she died,” said Connor, “and it rolled to the edge of the floor, slipped through the gap and disappeared. Guys, I think we’ve finally worked out what killed Grandma Maple!” “So … not Old Yellow Top?” Ella asked, with a hint of disappointment. “Sorry Ell,” Connor said. “Nice work, Con,” said Nick. “We should clean that up and show it to Gran.”

T hat is … plausible,” said Gran, as Connor finished outlining his theory back at the cottage. She turned the newly-polished spyglass over in her palm and then held it up to her eye. “It’s certainly a much better explanation than a curse,” she said. “There’s more, Gran,” said Connor. “Read her the newspaper article, Sam.” Sam spread the paper on the floor and read out the story, pausing dramatically at the inclement weather part. Gran listened, nodding slowly, and when Sam finished, the room fell silent, the four cousins waiting for Gran to respond. “Well?” said Connor, a tiny bit frustrated that Gran hadn’t immediately declared the case closed. “It makes sense, doesn’t it, Gran?”

“Hang on,” said Sam. “There’s more in the next column: The annual Sandy Flats Paddle and Safe Haven Sailing Race were postponed until next month – and we know why now, because of the inclement weather, of course. But get this: The Mayor’s daughter, Lucy, took out first prize for the three-legged race – his daughter was with him! Grandma Maple would have seen her, too – she thought both of them had drowned!” “Now,” said Gran, looking directly at Connor, “I suppose that really could have killed her: Grandma Maple saw the mayor and his daughter get caught in the storm, tipped into the lake and apparently drowned. She tried desperately to get out of her chair to summon help, clutching and scratching at its arms as she tried to lift herself up, but she couldn’t because of her hip. She had a heart attack and died.” “Explains the bloodied nails and the look of horror,” said Connor. Gran nodded. “The spyglass would have dropped to the floor and rolled across to the wall and was overlooked – eventually forgotten or given up for lost.” “Exactly,” said Connor, feeling pretty chuffed with himself. “But there are still a few loose ends,” said Gran. “Who or what killed the tinker’s dog? And why was the garden barren? And what happened to the mayor and his daughter between the accident and arriving at the show? And who is putting flowers on Grandma Maple’s grave? Fill those gaps in for me, Connor, and you might have something.” There was a collective groan from Nick, Sam and Ella. “We’re not looking through more papers,” said Nick. “No way.” “I should hope not,” said Gran. “And anyway, Grandpa has something far more fun for you. He’s waiting outside. Go see!”

G randpa, it’s awesome!” said Ella, staring up into the tree. “Can we go up?” “Of course, sweetheart. Test it out for me.”

In the woods behind the cottage, Grandpa had built a tree house – a huge, Lshaped tree house on two levels with a ladder and a trapdoor and a balcony going all the way around. Ella climbed up first, the others following on her heels with Grandpa. “You can see the lake, and … even across to Black Bear,” said Nick. “When did you do all this, Grandpa?” “I got the frame up a while ago, and I’ve been doing a bit here and there while you’ve been busy,” said Grandpa. He knelt, and pulled a section of rope, attached to the trapdoor. “You can pull the trapdoor up from inside, in case anyone’s not welcome,” he said, his eyes sparkling, “and there’s a knotted rope ladder on the other side for emergency exits.” There was a box with torches and candles, some old books and games hidden away in a bench seat, and even a cool box filled with drinks and tin mugs. You could see for miles through the trees – all the other cottages and boathouses. “It’s really cool, Grandpa,” said Sam, wrapping an arm around Grandpa as they looked out at the view. “Yeah, amazing,” said Connor. “You’ve thought of everything. Wish we had it in our backyard.” Somehow the tree house, and all the work Grandpa had put into it, made him even sadder at the thought of leaving.

T he weather cooled and the next few days ed quickly. They hung out in the tree house and spent a lot of time plotting how they could get back for another trip – or how they could get Nick and Ella to Australia. The cottagers around the lake began the big winter pack-up. Connor and Sam would be packing up soon enough, then heading back to the city and flying home. Labour Day finally arrived, and everyone got ready for the farewell picnic at Cara’s cottage. Uncle David had been baking all morning and had loaded up the car with muffins, cookies and sugar-coated beaver tails. The adults drove around, while the cousins paddled. Cara’s cottage was just around the bay, and they could already hear voices drifting across the water. As they pushed off and rounded the dock, they saw a huge marquee and some picnic tables arranged along the shore and something – something big – floating in the lake.

“What is that?” asked Sam. “That, Sam,” said Nick, “is a whole bunch of fun. They must have hired it for the day.” “It looks like some kind of jumping castle,” said Connor, looking through his binoculars. “It’s a trampoline,” said Ella. “It’s like a huge inflatable. You can jump as high as you like, because you just land in the water. It’s so cool!” It didn’t take them long to canoe across the bay. Without even realising it, Connor and Sam had become efficient paddlers: smooth, synchronised and fast. They pulled their canoes up the bank as Cara came down to greet them. “Hi,” she said. “The adults are here already. Said you had a few adventures on your trip.” “You could say that,” said Connor, propping his paddle against a tree. “See the trampoline?” said Cara. “Yeah, awesome,” said Nick. “Let’s go. Your moms are already on it – they’re fun, eh?” “Are they?” said Connor, with a quizzical look. “News to us,” said Sam. A bunch of kids were already on the trampoline and The Mums were jumping up and down, creating massive waves, and all the kids were in hysterics. Connor smiled to himself. Yeah okay, The Mums could be fun. When they weren’t being annoying. He looked out over the water and thought about last summer – the rip, the waves … everything; but the usual feeling he got in his stomach wasn’t there. Instead, he felt … he wasn’t sure. He thought about the storm and about swimming over to Ella and lifting her safely into her canoe. And he ed the look on Nick’s face when Ella was safely aboard and his own feeling of relief. It was as

if rescuing Ella had somehow erased the rip – wiped it out. And then he realised what he felt, or rather, what he didn’t feel: he wasn’t scared anymore. Truly. Finally. “Hey guys,” he yelled, “race you to the trampoline!” For the next hour, the four cousins, Cara and The Mums messed around on the trampoline. They dived, bounced and bombed, and Sal made footholds with the palms of her hands so they could backflip into the water. Then they took turns to wrestle each other off the trampoline and all the kids ganged up on Jen and Sal and tried to pitch them over the side. “You look great in the water, Connor,” said Sal, as they dangled their legs over the edge of the trampoline and paused for a rest. “We were worried, you know, because of last summer. We thought it might have long-term consequences, but –” “I’m good, Mum,” interrupted Connor. “You’d think with everything that happened I’d never want to go in the water again, but it’s the opposite. I’m over it. Really this time.” “That’s great, Connor. You know I’ve always thought if you really put your mind to something you could –” “Yeah, I know,” said Connor. “I’m going to do surf lifesaving when we get home.” Sal smiled and nodded. “That is a great idea, Connor.” “Yeah,” said Connor. “So next time we go racing and tip, I can rescue everyone!”

T he four cousins eventually hauled themselves out of the lake, grabbed some food – buffalo wings, kebabs, salad and roast vegetables – and sat down at the picnic table with everyone else. Cara introduced her mum, Susan, and they chatted: about the neighbours, the new Cooper family across the bay, the old couple next door who’d been here forever.

“They used to have a Labour Day picnic every year in the old days,” explained Susan. “We thought it would be fun to get the tradition going again, you know, get all the cottage neighbours together.” “It’s a lovely idea,” said Aunty Lou. “Lots of the cottage families go way back.” “Yes, we discovered that recently. Amazing what you can find out once you start digging into the family history,” said Susan. Gran smiled. “My grandson has been doing a bit of that,” she said, nodding in Connor’s direction. “Really?” said Susan. “Well we found out all sorts of things. We can trace our family back quite a way. We’re quite a scandalous bunch; directly descended from an illegitimate child born around the turn of the century. The father disappeared – bit of a rogue by all s – but the mother and child managed to survive with the help of the father’s mother. We found some letters from her – fascinating stuff.” “And they lived in this cottage?” asked Aunty Lou. “Yes,” continued Susan. “We know the child grew up and married the local mayor, and they had a daughter. We even managed to track down the grandmother – she’s buried in an old graveyard on one of the islands across the way. If it wasn’t for her help, back in the day, Cara and I might not be around today.” “We put some flowers on her grave,” said Cara. Gran stopped eating, her fork suspended in mid-air. “Well, well, well,” she said, finally. “How about that!?” Susan looked up from her salad to find everyone staring at her intently. “What?” she said. “Did I say something wrong?” “Not at all,” said Gran, smiling to herself, “but my grandson might be able to shed some more light on that story.”

S o, the illegitimate child was the daughter of The Bad’un ; she was Grandma Maple’s granddaughter .” said Connor, recapping. The entire family was in the lounge room, sipping lemon iced tea and enjoying leftover beaver tails. The picnic had finally wound down; they had stayed to pack up and then invited Susan and Cara to the cottage to share the rest of their stories. As Connor spoke, he spread out the photos and newspapers related to The Mystery in front of Susan and Cara. “She would have known that, wouldn’t she, Gran?” Connor said. “She would have worked it out.” “Well, yes, she clearly did. Susan said she helped them.” Susan nodded, slowly. “And that’s why she liked to watch the cottage; she was watching her granddaughter,” Connor continued. “And so, fast forward a few years, the granddaughter grows up, marries the Mayor, Jason MacSheen, who has a daughter, Lucy, who travels to the Dominion Day Fair with him. And if it was Lucy in the canoe that tipped, then that would definitely be enough to kill Grandma: she thought she saw her great granddaughter drown.” “Well, I have to hand it to you, Connor,” said Gran, nodding, “that certainly all hangs together.” “Yeah,” Connor said. Despite the afternoon’s events, he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. “We nearly solved the whole thing, but not quite.” “What do you mean?” Cara asked. “The tinker’s dog,” said Connor and Sam together. “The tinker’s dog?” said Susan. Connor explained the missing link in the mystery. “Nothing we’ve found explains how the dog died,” he said finally. “Or why nothing would ever grow in Grandma Maple’s garden after she died,” said Sam.

“Mmm,” said Connor, nodding. Connor had been so focused on bringing Cara and Susan up to speed, he hadn’t noticed Gran flipping through the pages of Grandma Maple’s sketchbook. She sidled up to him on the couch and handed him the open book. “Take a look at this, darling,” she said. Connor took the book and glanced down at the open page. There was a sketch of a plant – looked a bit like a blueberry bush, but more … shrubby? Bigger leaves and not as tree-like as the blueberries he’d seen. He shook his head at Gran. “What is it?” he asked. “Well, unless I’m mistaken,” said Gran, “that’s black nightshade. Which means … ” “It was probably growing somewhere near the cottage!” Connor said. “You said that Grandpa Maple was upset that the dog had been chewing things in the garden – maybe it had eaten black nightshade!” “Told you it could kill you!” said Ella. “Yeah, you did,” said Connor, grinning at his cousin. “But what about the garden?” said Nick. Trust Nick. Connor shrugged. He looked down at the sketchbook in his hands, flipped through its pages of delicate, faithful drawings. Grandma Maple had clearly loved her garden. And Grandpa Maple had clearly loved her, to have kept all this stuff. It was a really sad story, when you thought about it – poor Grandpa Maple left alone, too sad and afraid to go into the room where his wife had died. Then suddenly something popped into his head. “It was Grandma Maple’s garden wasn’t it?” he said to Gran. Gran nodded. “Maybe, after she died, it just … didn’t get tended. Maybe, Grandpa couldn’t face watering or weeding it, and instead of a cursed, barren garden, maybe it was just an ordinary, untended garden that got caught up in the story.”

“Yes, you may be right there too, young man.” Gran nodded – a little sadly, Connor thought. The room was silent for a moment. “So, no messages from the dead after all,” said Sal, into the quiet. “Just a perfectly reasonable explanation. Who’d have thought?” Connor rolled his eyes, but Gran was smiling at him; it was worth a little flak from The Mums to make Gran smile. “Well done, guys. Can’t believe you worked all that out,” said Jen. “Good job.” “I don’t think there is a curse, Gran,” said Connor. “And I think it’s time to open up that room.” “I know you’re right,” said Gran, “it’s just sometimes old people get –” “Scared?” said Sam. “Yes, Sam, scared.” “Young people, too,” Connor said, smiling. He draped his arm around Gran’s shoulder. She looked at him and held the palm of her hand against his cheek, and because it was Gran, Connor let her. “Mum’s got a saying,” said Connor, “annoying, but comes in useful sometimes: feel the fear and face it.” A quiet chuckle ed between the adults, and Gran smiled at Aunty Lou. “Yes, Connor,” she said. “I am familiar with that saying and your aunt knows it, too. It’s been around for a while. Let’s just say it’s as old as … well, it’s as old as I am.”

chapter 28

Last piece of the puzzle

T hat’ll be our visitors,” said Connor, at the sound of a car crunching up the driveway. He’d asked Aunty Lou if Cara and Susan could come over again before he, Sam and The Mums left for the city. He’d had an idea. Sal opened the front door and invited them in. “Lovely to see you again,” she said. “Come in. Come in.” “Thanks,” said Susan, stepping inside the cottage. “Glad we could make it before you head off. Must be soon?” “Day after tomorrow,” said Jen. “But my son has had an idea, something he wants to do before we head off, and it involves the two of you.” Susan and Cara both looked intrigued. “It’s a good one, though” said Connor. “Really, you’ll like it.” “They’re not always good ones, are they bro?” said Sam. “Generally, your ideas end up with us in trouble.” “Not this one, I promise.” Uncle David emerged with drinks and blueberry muffins and the entire family sat around the dining table. “So, listen,” said Connor. “What we found out – what you told us, Susan – solved the mystery, but it also told us something else. Grandma Maple is Cara’s great, great, great, great grandmother, too, which makes us … well, I don’t know what it makes us, except related.” “That’s right, Connor,” said Susan, smiling at Cara. “It certainly does.”

“And the thing is, Cara is descended from the little girl who Grandma Maple thought she saw drown on the day she died. So I thought we could go back to the old churchyard and introduce Cara to Grandma Maple to, you know, put her mind at rest, show her that everything turned out okay.” “That’s a lovely idea, Connor,” said Susan. “Sure,” said Cara. “You up for it, Gran?” asked Connor. “Yes,” said Gran, with a smile, “I’m up for it! ”

T hey bought flowers from a roadside stall and found the trail through the woods to the old graveyard. Ella led the way, ducking in and out of the trees. “Ell seems to have bounced back,” said Connor to Nick and Sam, as they trudged along the track. “She’ll be doing her ORCKA certificate before you know it,” said Sam. “Yeah, and my dad said I can do the next level next summer. It’s really tough, and it’ll take me forever, but he’s going to take me out so I can start practising.” “That’s awesome,” said Connor. They reached the edge of the graveyard, stepping carefully over the unmarked graves until they reached Grandma Maple. They all gathered around – Gran and Grandpa, Uncle David and Aunty Lou, The Mums, Susan and Cara and the four cousins. Connor called for silence. “Well, Grandma Maple,” he said, looking down towards her grave and then up towards the sky, “wherever you are, and I hope you’re listening: we’ve cleared out your room and we hope you don’t mind. The thing is, your great granddaughter was okay. She didn’t die – well you probably know that now, being on the other side, but anyway, we’d like to introduce Cara. She’s kind of like our cousin and she’s related to that girl in the canoe who you thought died, but didn’t. So, you see, it all turned out okay, and we were

wondering … if we could please drop all the curse stuff? It worries Gran. Thanks.” And with that, he bent down and placed a bunch of pink peonies on Grandma Maple’s grave. “Very nicely done, Connor,” said Gran, with a smile. “I think we can safely say we have laid the curse to rest.”

T he adults had agreed to let the cousins and Cara spend their last night in the tree house. Sam was still in the attic finishing off her packing and Nick, Ella, Cara and Connor lay on their backs searching for the pole star. “Next time I do this, all the stars will be different,” said Connor. “Maybe you could come in the winter next time,” said Ella, “and we could go tobogganing and snow-shoeing and build a snow cave and sleep out.” “Yeah, that sounds –” Connor was cut off by Sam yelling as she ran down from the cottage. “I found it!” she said, climbing up the ladder. “You were right.” “Found what?” said Connor. “In The Rokeby Independent. I was packing the rest of those boxes away and I thought I’d just have one last look – we’d gone through all the papers before Grandma Maple’s death, but none after it. This one is from two months later. Listen.” Sam flopped down on the sleeping bags and angled the paper towards the light. “Mayor celebrates ten years of dutiful service,” she read. “Our esteemed Mayor, Mr Jason MacSheen, was guest of honour at a small gathering this week … blah blah … Deputy Mayor Wilding said that in all the time he had known Mayor MacSheen he had vigorously fulfilled his duties, and had never once missed a council engagement … This is the bit: He had come close recently, explained

Deputy Mayor Wilding, when he was caught in a summer storm on his way to the Dominion Day Celebrations. After pulling his daughter, Lucy, and their canoe to safety on Sandy Flats, Mayor MacSheen had gone home, changed and returned in time to open the fair.” “That’s awesome,” said Connor, snatching the paper from Sam’s hand. “Am I smart or what?” “What,” said Sam.

T here was a chill in the air as they settled into their sleeping bags and stared up at the stars. It had been a busy few days with all the packing, and they were tired, but no one was ready to sleep. They lay awake listening to the distant call of a loon and the breeze whistling through the trees. Suddenly, Sam sat bolt upright. “What was that?” she whispered. “Very funny, Sam,” said Connor, “but Uncle David’s already gone to –” “No. Listen, really,” said Sam. They held their breath. Everything was quiet – the water lapping on the shore, the leaves rustling in the trees. Then something – something made a noise: a grunt? A snort? An animal foraging in the undergrowth? It was impossible to tell. It wasn’t a chipmunk, and it didn’t sound much like a raccoon, and once you got bigger than a raccoon … Nick slid out of his sleeping bag, leant over the balcony and squinted into the darkness. “Ell,” he said, after a long pause, “did Grandpa put some tin mugs up here?” Sam, Connor, Cara and Ella shot up. “You’re joking!” whispered Sam, following Nick’s gaze. “Not joking,” said Nick. “Okay, guys, you know how it works. After three, bang, shout and scream for your lives! One, two, three …”

Author's note

A long time ago in a land faraway, I started writing this book. When the kids were young, we spent a number of summers at ‘the cottage’, Sarah’s parents’ lake house just north of Toronto. It’s a beautiful spot – a pristine lake edged with pink granite and bright green fir trees. They were fabulous holidays; long, sunny days spent exploring the lake and woods beyond, and evenings looking across the lake from the cottage. Sarah’s sister, Emma, and her brother-in-law, Andrew, and their three kids would us for weeks at a time, and I used to imagine what it would be like when all the kids were older and more independent. And that’s where Grandma Maple began; a story about a group of cousins who hang out together for an entire summer, ditch the grown-ups, and have an adventure. But I wanted Grandma Maple to be something else as well. Over the years, my kids (they’re teenagers now) have read a ton of books, but never one that represented their family – a rainbow family. There are some great preschool and picture books that include rainbow families, but beyond that it’s slim pickings. I wanted to write a book in which my kids, and other kids in rainbow families, saw themselves represented; not a book about rainbow families, but a book where the kids just happened to have two mums. The Curse of Grandma Maple is that book.

Acknowledgments

This has been a lovely, but long project and the draft manuscript has moved in and out of the bottom drawer a dozen times over the years. A few people read early drafts and were kind and careful enough in their that I kept going. Among them are Nicole Hayes, Lee FitzRoy and Anne Suslak. My nieces, Kassia and Lydia Tomlins, and their cousin Freya Laskowski-Cumming – who, at the time, were somewhat closer in age to my target audience – also gave it the general nod of approval. Thank you all; Grandma Maple certainly wouldn’t have made it out of that bottom drawer without your encouragement. My parents-in-law, Eva and Michael Nichols, have always been incredibly generous with the cottage and with so much more besides. Thank you for your unwavering along the way. You’ve both been very patient and your copies are now in the mail. Emma Nichols and Andrew Cooper, Sarah’s sister and brother-in-law, are integral to this story. How much fun have we had with you and the kids at the cottage over the years? Thank you both for providing so much of the material for this book and for being such excellent Subject Matter Experts. Noah, Ethan and Claire Cooper and Corin, Scout and Cully Nichols Tomlins – the cousins. If it hadn’t taken me quite so long to write, you might all have enjoyed reading Grandma Maple when you were supposed to, but I hope you still like it anyway. I reckon it’s pretty cool being the inspiration for a book. More recently, the book was helped over the line by the generosity of 188 people who donated to my crowd-funding campaign. You gave me time and space and a deadline, but more than that, you made Grandma Maple a true community project. Thank you all for helping to bring this rainbow book into the world. I wanted to self-publish Grandma Maple and for that I needed the editing and design dream team of Naomi Murphy and Carlie Jennings. What an absolute

delight it has been to work with you both. You have contributed so much to this book – your thorough, thoughtful and intelligent editing; your beautiful, whimsical chapter illustrations; and your fabulous cover design. I so wouldn’t have got there without you, and wouldn’t have had half as much fun. You took my story and turned it into a beautiful book. Thank you. Thank you also, Matt Glover, for the perfect cover illustration; for the four cousins desperate to get away, and the line-up of adults saying a lingering farewell. It makes me smile every time I look at it. And last, but never least, my ever gorgeous wife, Sarah. How many times have you read this manuscript, honey? I lost count a few years ago. Thank you for your patience and insight, and for your never-ending of one of my longest projects. Oh, and for removing all those wayward commas. Love you always.

About the author

Jac Tomlins has written books, chapters, articles, resources, and blogs for both the mainstream and queer press over the past 25 years. She has been an outspoken advocate for rainbow families and the LGBTIQ community since coming out in her first year of teaching many moons ago. This is her first work of fiction.