Benworden Read online

  “I’ll just check my diary, darling,” she replied.

  Talbert began fidgeting as he listened to the crackling of pages coming from the other end of the phone.

  “Second, ah third, here we are. Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I have a big business dinner that evening and there’s just no way out of it.”

  Talbert’s mother hadn’t been able to attend functions before and he always felt that at some stage he would begin to become immune to it, but like all the other times this hurt just as much, if not more.

  “It’s ok, Mum, I understand. Work’s important”, while thinking that he wasn’t.

  His mother had picked up a different tone in his voice this time, one she had never noticed before and one that overwhelmed her with guilt. Normally she would feel that he understood but this time was very different. “I’m so sorry, Talbert, you know I would be there if I could. You know I want to be there for you, don’t you?”

  “Sure Mum, I know that. It’s ok.”

  Trying to compensate the only way she knew how, his mother said she would put money in his account as a reward for his achievement and asked if he could get some snap shots of the evening so she could brag to her friends and colleagues about her champion son. She had said all this to cheer him up but it had worked in quite the opposite way. Talbert thought to himself, “Sure, brag to your friends, but who can I share my achievements with?”

  Talbert was feeling a little low and said, “Look Mum, don’t mean to rush you but I have training tonight and I don’t want to be late to the first one.”

  He didn’t really have training but Talbert knew if he continued the conversation he may say something that he would regret later and he loved his mother too much to hurt her.

  “Ok, love you,” she replied.

  “Love you too,” he said and quickly hung up.

  Unbeknown to Talbert, Mr Neals was standing around the corner from the lockers and had overheard the whole conversation Talbert was having with his mother. Mr Neals felt terrible for him – he had always seen a lot of potential in Talbert, not just as a student but as a person as well. He knew Talbert had gone out of his way time and time again to help fellow students whenever they needed him. I think in reality Mr Neals saw many of his own characteristics in him and tried to encourage those positive traits as much as he possibly could.

  Mr Neals wasn’t one to spend his time listening to others’ conversations but on bending down to pick up some papers he had dropped, he could hear Talbert’s voice around the corner and it wasn’t the cheerful one he was used to.

  Mr Neals waited for the right moment to round the corner and as he did he saw Talbert with his head down and his left hand flat against the locker.

  “Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”

  Talbert slowly raised his eyes while tilting his head just enough to see Mr Neals’ face. Talbert produced a small grin out of respect for Mr Neals knowing his teacher had always found genuine quality time for him, and no matter what he was feeling or going through he would do the same for Mr Neals.

  “Hi Mr Neals, how are you going?”

  “I’m doing fine, Talbert, but I hear you’re doing better. Congratulations on making the big team, mate. Well done.”

  “Thanks Mr Neals,” Talbert replied as his small grin turned into a smile and his head lifted slightly higher.

  “Tell me something,” said Mr Neals with a more serious tone in his voice. “Hmm, this is a little awkward and I would assume your mother is probably attending, but I’m at loose ends on the singlet presentation night and back home I always attended these nights for the local side, and I miss that a lot. So I was wondering if I could come along as a guest. I mean, I understand if you say no, but hey, no harm in asking I always say.”

  Talbert’s face lit up and although he was feeling excited about someone being there for him, he attempted to show his maturity and remained calm and dignified.

  “Sure. If you’re at loose ends and all that, of course you’re welcome. It’s definitely no fun having nothing to do on a Friday night, that’s for sure.”

  “Are you sure I won’t be imposing?”

  “Not at all. In fact, Mum just called and said she can’t make it so it’ll be nice to have you along.”

  “Great! It’s a deal then. Anyway, got to keep going. I’ll catch you later, Talbert.”

  “Yeah, see you Mr Neals.”

  Mr Neals strutted off with a huge grin. He always felt good when he made a positive impression in students’ lives. Even though Talbert was still disappointed at his mother declining the invitation, his spirits had lifted knowing that he would have someone other than one of the other player’s parents sitting at his table.

  “There is nothing lonelier than going to a presentation night on your own,” he thought to himself. And this time he didn’t have to.

  Talbert headed back to Benworden, signed in and went up to his room to change. Over summer the boarders were allowed to have additional time to go shopping or, as many of the more athletic kids would do, go hiking. Talbert would do neither but he would nevertheless stock up his backpack and tell the supervisors he was on his way out. On seeing his pack they would automatically assume that he was off on a hike, but in reality when he was feeling a little down he would head for the enormous old oak tree at the rear left side of the boarding house.

  The oak tree grew on the far side of a nine-foot-high brick fence with the only entrance being the arched, black cast-iron gates. Even if you felt your chances were good for climbing the six-foot high gates you still had another three feet of brick wall over the top of them. Without a key to get through the gates it seemed an impossible task to scale the old oak, but this was a challenge to Talbert. From the moment he had arrived at Benworden he had been sitting up of an evening figuring out ways of achieving this goal so that he could have his very own private place where he could sit and contemplate life without having to worry about others for a short time.

  The other interesting thing beyond the fence was the old smithy’s work shop. All the borders and students of the school were told about it and how dangerous the aged building was. They were also told that if they somehow got through the gate or over the fence it would mean immediate expulsion and no one wanted to take that risk. Knowing what their parents had gone through to get them accepted into the school, they knew that getting expelled was not an option.

  When it came to a challenge like this one, getting caught never came into Talbert’s thoughts. On top of this, while all the students had been told not to step one foot on the other side of the fence, no one had ever said anything about sitting in a tree. So technically he didn’t see that he would be doing anything wrong.

  One large limb loomed out and over the fence and Talbert had devised a way of using this to his advantage. On arrival, he slipped his backpack from his shoulders and placed it upright between his legs. Talbert opened the pack and pulled out some fishing line with a heavy sinker tied to one end of it. The line was approximately twenty feet in length and at the other end he had tied thirty feet of nylon rope normally used in mountain climbing. Talbert threw the weight over the limb of the oak and waited for it to fall back to the ground. He then pulled on the nylon line until the rope went over the limb and back down to him. Now it was just a matter of grabbing both sides of the rope and manoeuvring it down the limb towards the fence. Once in position Talbert tied one end of the rope around his body and used the other to scale his way up to the limb above, and as he neared the top he pushed off the wall with his feet and hurled them upward like a pole-vaulter while at the same time still pulling hard on the rope with his hands. This would land Talbert on top of the fence just under the limb where he could take the rope from his waist, haul it up and place it in his backpack. Getting on top of the limb took very little effort compared to scaling the wall; it was just a matter of standing upright on top of it and heaving himself onto the limb. He knew when he got on the limb he could work his way around to the far
side of the tree so he wouldn’t be noticed by prying eyes.

  Talbert worked his way around to the other side of this massive oak and felt as though he had travelled back in time. He could see a cobblestone courtyard with the old smithy’s workshop at the end of it. Brick walls enclosed this piece of history and a horse-drawn buggy from yesteryear stood weathered and worn in the corner next to the workshop, almost like it was waiting for the old smithy to reappear and work his magic as he had in the past.

  Talbert had brought history books about the gold-rush days of Ballarat and had made himself comfortable by leaning his backpack against the trunk of the tree as a cushion. He didn’t feel like reading today, though, because all he could think about was the day’s events and how it had gone from an ecstatic high after getting selected for the team, to an all-time low when his mother told him she couldn’t make it, and then to Mr Neals’ request which came as a total surprise.

  As Talbert began to drift deeper and deeper into thought he was suddenly startled back to reality by the sound of metal on metal and then the old cast iron gates creaking open behind him. This was soon followed by footsteps on the cobblestones below. It was Greg Collins and he was scurrying towards the smithy’s workshop. Talbert kept as quiet as possible as he leant further out on the limb to get a better view.

  Greg stopped just outside the workshop and his head jerked first to the left and then back to the right. Talbert could see that he was watching to make sure he wasn’t being followed and once Greg thought no one was around, he felt around the window frame of the smithy’s workshop. Talbert heard a click and the brick panel below the window opened inwards. He could see there was just enough room for a large person to crawl through or for a small person to waddle through like a duck. As Greg disappeared through the gap the brick panel closed behind him. Talbert was so excited the hairs on the back of his neck were tingling and he scrambled for his pack in such a panic he almost fell from the tree. After regaining his balance he pulled his rope from the pack and scaled down as quickly as he could and raced like the wind to the old shop and stable.

  On reaching the building he immediately began to feel around the sides of the window and found a tiny button midway down the left side of the frame. Talbert’s hands were shaking when he pushed on the button and his heart raced even more as the panel opened and he crawled through into the unknown.

  Once inside he looked around and felt a little disappointed. He had envisaged a secret hideaway, neat, clean with lots of club room type of stuff in it, but this seemed as it should be: dust, cobwebs and the old smithy’s tools. Then he thought about Greg and where he could be. There was no sign of him.

  Talbert began scanning more thoroughly now and noticed a lever on the wall beside him. It looked like it was old yet there was writing above and below it that read open at the bottom and close above it. The writing was too modern for its time and Talbert had figured out that the lever must open another panel which would lead somewhere else.

  He thought to himself, “So that’s where he went.”

  As he pulled down on the lever his heart began to palpitate and he started to feel like one of the pioneers and adventurers he had so often read about. What Talbert was unaware of was that the lever had two purposes: one was to shut the entrance from where he had come and the other was to open a trapdoor within the floor. Talbert felt a vibration beneath his feet and he leapt backward towards the window. It was only his sporting reflexes that saved him from falling down into the abyss that lay below the trapdoor. Looking down into the opening, he saw some timber steps, and he cautiously began his descent into the darkness. Once he had reached the dirt floor below he could see the faint light of a torch heading away from him. Talbert figured it had to be Greg and every instinct in his body was telling him to follow.

  The sunlight from the windows lit up another lever with the same instructions as the one in the room above, and next to it was a small cabinet filled with torches and batteries of all sizes. At this point he knew that if he turned a torch on he could be discovered, but for safety’s sake he decided to take a large one with him on his journey into the unknown.

  Talbert pulled the lever and the trapdoor shut, leaving him in the pitch dark. All he could see was the fading light of Greg’s torch further up the tunnel so he set off after him. It was no easy feat following from a distance in the dark, often stumbling and tripping as he went, but he was determined to find out what Greg was up to. Talbert used his open hand on the side wall to guide himself along the tunnel. This made it harder to keep up the pace and the light up ahead was getting dimmer. Out in front Greg was nearing a bend and as he went around it Talbert moved to the centre of the tunnel to try and catch a glimpse of Greg’s light again.

  Unbeknown to Talbert, this was the worst possible moment to attempt this move for he was about to find the same drop shaft that Tim Tovey, the founder of the tunnel, had almost fallen down all those years before.

  Talbert began picking up his pace when all of a sudden he felt himself hurtling downward, and out of sheer desperation he threw his hands forward trying to grab hold of anything that would stop the momentum of his fall. He finally caught hold of the old dangling rope that was attached to the hoist at the top and came to a sudden halt. Talbert hung on grimly as his heart raced like a stampede of wild horses. He had no idea what lay below him but he knew he had fallen a fair distance and his arms felt like they had been jerked from their sockets.

  Once he had calmed himself down he remembered what his gym instructor in junior school had taught him about how to rest safely when scaling a rope, so he entwined the rope around his leg to give his aching arms and hands a rest. He then removed the torch from his backpack and shone it down the shaft to the floor below. He could see it wasn’t far to the ground but looking up he could now confirm that his fall had been further than he initially thought. Talbert felt he wasn’t ready to scale the rope back up to the top. He wanted to give his arms a chance to recover, so he began his descent to the bottom knowing he could rest up for a while and contemplate the job he had ahead of him once he regained his strength. As he approached the floor below his hands were too weak to maintain their grip and he slipped from the rope, falling a short way to the dirt below.

  Talbert had had the wind knocked out of him so he lay there for a few moments trying to regain his composure. His torch landed just out of his reach and was lighting up the wall on the other side. He rolled over towards the torch and was about to grab it when he put his hand on what seemed to be a smooth rounded boulder with holes in it. Talbert used the rock to help hoist himself to his knees and once upright he grabbed the torch and pointed it towards the rock – he then let out a scream like a teenage girl at a pop idol concert.

  He quickly jumped to his feet when he realised he had been poking his fingers into the eye sockets of a skull that had a body connected to it, and began jumping up and down with his arms and legs flapping in different directions. This was followed by a swatting motion like someone who suffers from arachnophobia trying to rid his body of a dozen crawling spiders.

  Talbert murmured to himself, “Calm down you fool! Some adventurer you turned out to be. It’s dead. It can’t hurt you!”

  His heartbeat slowed and the shaking was now under control. He began imagining himself as a hero in a Hollywood movie who had just made a great discovery in a cave after a trek through a remote jungle. This was another new adventure and he wasn’t going to miss it for the world.

  Like a member of a crime scene investigation team, Talbert knelt and moved his torch up and down the corpse and thought to himself, “Mmm, by the look of this poor fellow’s clothes he seems to have been here for some time.” All of the history books that Talbert had read in the past were finally starting to pay off. He identified the clothing on the body as Chinese, dating back to gold rush times around the mid- to late- 1800s. The blue pants and top were distinctive of the Chinese style from those days.

  “Hmm, fascinating,” said Talber
t, while scratching his head and continuing to scan the light over the clothing. He suddenly stopped moving the torch and began focusing around the vicinity of the corpse’s chest. At that moment a cold chill ran up his spine as if someone had tipped freezing water down the back of his shirt. Right in the top centre of the jacket were two distinct circular holes.

  “Bullet holes, and straight to the chest. Whoever did this was definitely out for the kill,” he thought to himself. “Yes I see,” Talbert said. “This is definitely a homicide. Colt 45, I imagine,” speaking out loud as if he were surrounded by the whole CSI team.

  He then began to reach inside the jacket searching for any concealed piece of evidence that would lead to the identity of the victim.

  “Bingo!” he cried on finding a large silk and cotton wallet with official looking papers stored inside. He carefully opened the wallet and then unfolded the documents, only to find they had all been written in Chinese.

  “Just as I thought,” said Talbert with a small grin rising from one corner of his mouth. “Definitely Chinese.”

  As he moved the beam further down he noticed one arm was straight and the other bent as if it had just been removed from the jacket pocket.

  “Hmm,” he hummed, while rifling around inside the pocket. Then like a magician who had just found a rabbit in a hat he pulled out an old pencil and paper. Unlike the other documents it was in English and it was easy to see that it was a very shaky hand that had written it. The words on the note read: “Found gold. Shot by Sid Thomas.”

  Talbert thought to himself, “Whoever this Chinese guy was, he was smart. Not only did he hang on long enough to get his murderer’s name on the paper but with his last dying effort he got the note back in his pocket to make sure it was preserved for whoever found him.”

  Scooping up the note and the Chinese documents, Talbert grabbed an old self-sealing lunch bag from his backpack and placed the two documents in it and then neatly stored them in a side pocket of the pack.