Ghost River by Tony Birch

Author:Tony Birch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Queensland Press
Published: 2015-08-05T04:00:00+00:00

The steel gates guarding the mill hung from their hinges. The lock and chain on the gates had been broken so many times that whoever owned the mill had given up on the battle to keep the scavengers out. The scrap crews had weaselled their way in over the years, cutting through fences, smashing windows and stripping the mill of copper, brass and lead, as well as the porcelain toilets and sinks. Once they’d finished with the scrap they started on the timber. In the end all that was left of the mill were cavernous rooms, cobwebs and pigeons. Ren kicked the gate open. Sonny tried opening the sliding steel door into the main building. It was rusted to the frame and wouldn’t budge. He searched the yard for something strong enough to force the lock.

‘You find anything?’ Ren called from the loading dock.

‘Nothing.’

Sonny dragged a wooden pallet across the yard and stood it on its end against the wall, under a broken window. ‘Bunk me up.’

Ren cupped his hands together and Sonny used them as a stirrup. He balanced one foot on the pallet and the other on the ledge of the window. He thumped the frame of a shattered window with the side of his fist. It wouldn’t budge.

‘Take your jumper off, Ren. I’m gonna have to rest something on the bottom of the window so I don’t get cut on the jagged glass when I squeeze through.’

‘What about your own jumper?’

‘I can’t get mine off. I’m lucky to be holding on. Give me yours.’

Ren took his jumper off and threw it up to him. Sonny laid it across the bottom of the window, wriggled through and jumped into the mill. The door shifted and flung open. Sonny was holding Ren’s jumper in his hand. He snatched it from him and put it on. It was torn at the shoulder.

‘Well, done, Sonny. This is the only good jumper I got. How am I gonna explain this?’

‘Looks as if you’ve been attacked by Zorro.’ Sonny laughed. ‘Maybe you could sew it up and your mum won’t find out.’

Ren popped his head through the hole. ‘Sew it, my arse.’

‘Forget the jumper. You’ll be in more trouble for sneaking out of the house when you’re supposed to be sick in bed.’

The saw-tooth roof of the cotton mill was eighty, maybe a hundred feet above their heads. A steel stairway bolted into the brick wall zig-zagged towards the top. They made a racket climbing up and set the pigeons off. Hundreds of birds lifted from the steel rafters, flew in an arc and came together in the shape of a boomerang. The boys stopped on a landing and watched as the birds flew the length of the mill, turned and glided above their heads, close enough that Ren could feel the breeze of their wings. The birds turned again and flew to the far end of the mill. One by one they settled along the rafters.

A small wooden door sat at the top of the stairs.

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