been kidnapped, but the inspector had explained that the callers would then advance occult theories instead. He had given me an odd look then, as if he expected me to offer my own theory, but I had none.
I looked out at the park and summoned up a picture in my mind of Rose holding Mama’s hand as they walked home from the pantomime. She would have been chattering about the performance, no doubt asking questions that would have called from Mama the irritated little cough she always developed when she was asked too many questions. Eventually, she would have snapped at Rose, but then what? In some way that I could not conceive, Rose and Mama had gone into the park together or one after the other. It seemed most likely that Rose would have gone first, Mama following unwillingly. But what happened then to make Mama lie down, and what of Rose? Tests had shown that no footprints had been obscured, deliberately or by chance, nor had Rose’s prints leading to the body been false. The evidence of the footprints showed quite clearly that mother and daughter had entered the park, whether alone or together, and that Mama had lain down of her own volition and died, though no one could determine the cause of death, since it had been a mild night and there was not a mark upon her.
Of cold, I thought, but what had become of Rose?
Nothing, my mind told me. She entered the winter park and she is still there.
Two days later, Inspector Grey called again and asked the servant who answered the door if I would come out to the yard to speak with him. It was odd that he did not come inside, but I took my parasol, for the sun blazed down, and went out. To my considerable surprise, the policeman was standing under the jacaranda tree with one of the velvet nomads.
‘This is Nullah,’ said Inspector Grey. ‘He is a native tracker who works for us sometimes. I brought him to look at the place where your sister disappeared. I thought you would like to hear what he has to say.’ He nodded at the velvet man, who was watching me closely.
‘I am Willow,’ I told him and I held out my hand.
Nullah took my hand in his own enormous warm grasp, and seemed to weigh it more than shake it. Then he smiled at me with the very same familiarity as the song walker in Dusty Town had done long ago. He released my hand, and said something to the inspector.
‘He wants me to tell you he greets you as an equal and invites you to walk about the land with him,’ said the policeman. ‘It is an unusual compliment because Nullah is considered a leader among his people, a spirit guide.’
‘Please ask him whether he saw anything that will help us find Rose.’
But the policeman shook his head. ‘You misunderstand. I brought Nullah here to look at the footprints, but as soon as he set eyes on the park he stopped and said there was no point because the land there will not sing to him. He would have to learn to hear it and that would take many years.’ The velvet man said something, and the policeman nodded and said, ‘He asks now why I summoned him when I have you to guide me.’
‘Tell him that he is mistaken about me. I am not a guide.’
The velvet man seemed to understand and shook his head. He spoke at length to the policeman, who asked several questions and was answered before turning back to me.
‘He says the park is not part of his land. It is a place where another land is pushing through. He says he cannot walk there because he has no link to that place, but that you do. He says he can feel it.’ The inspector shook his head, looking suddenly younger in his puzzlement. ‘Maybe I am misinterpreting. Maybe he is just trying to tell me that he thinks you will be able to discover what happened to your sister.’
The velvet nomad spoke again, a few words, looking at me.
‘He asks if you love your sister,’ the policeman said, then he answered without waiting for me to speak. The nomad nodded, pointed to me and then pointed towards the park.
‘I swore I would not go there,’ I said, and heard fear in my voice. The velvet man spoke again, his eyes holding mine. The