approached, her coat flapping, his eyes widened and nostrils flared. She managed to tie a rope to his head collar and turn him uphill, but he strained against her, trying to keep his rump into the wind.
At first she handled him gently, but as the cold and the rain beat into her face and he wouldn’t budge, she grew rougher and more insistent, dragging at his head. Exasperated, she leaned against his shoulder and tried to push him backwards. He took a step back, then another and they slowly progressed up the hill and out through the gate. Then the real trouble began.
Beyond the security of the paddock, the pony became even more skittish and uncertain, prancing and jostling and stepping on Mary’s feet. The wind was unbelievably strong and Mary clung to the rope, trying to use the pony as a shield as they laboured down the track towards the shed. The door had blown open and was slamming against the wall. At the sound, the pony propped, shied and snorted, wrenching the rope from her hands. Then he took off. Cursing, she followed him over the hill.
On the western side of the cape, the land fell away quickly, diving through grasses and scrub then arriving suddenly at the cliffs. Mary was worried the pony might not see the edge until too late. He could go over, scrabbling at the lip with his hooves. She ran down the slope after him, exposed to the full force of the gale. The rain was dense and sharp, driven by the wind. Further west, she saw the pony bounding across the slope. She tried to hurry towards him, but he disappeared into cloud. She paused, unsure whether he’d fallen or was just out of view.
Then she saw him again, trotting jerkily across the slope to the north, zigzagging among the scrub, head low. She followed him, clutching bushes to steady herself. He stopped at a high point where the vegetation grew dense. Quickly, she scrambled across, feet skating in the gravel. Suddenly her foot slid on loose rocks, caught for a moment then slid again. She grasped at a tussock but it whipped out of her fingers, and then she was sliding, slipping down a steep gully, too close to the edge.
She dug her fingers into the mud, and scraped at anything solid. Her fingers raked on stone. There was a scream in her throat. Then air, all around. And space. She thudded against dirt. Rock.
It ended in a thump and a crack as her leg folded. Air huffed out of her like closed gallows. Slipping in and out of awareness, she wondered whether she was warm or cold.
Eventually, she felt rainwater running inside her coat and realised she’d have to move and find a way up the cliff. It took forever to edge up the rock wall and then roll over and arrange herself in an awkward sitting position with her leg stretched in front of her. After heaving the leg into place, she slumped against the cliff with her coat tucked around her. Rain sluiced over her. She melded with the darkness all around.
Hours passed before Jack and the other keeper found her. They scrambled down ledges to reach her, and then carried her up to the cottage while she reeled in a fog of pain. Jack was needed on the cape; he couldn’t leave. So his brother, Sam, came from the farm and drove her to hospital in Hobart. It was a wretched journey: her leg throbbed, and despite blankets and hot water bottles, she couldn’t get warm.
At the hospital, they confined her to bed in traction until the leg straightened. Then they set it in plaster and sent her to her parents’ place to recover. She was furious and bereft. The pony was safely back in his usual paddock, but she was here, stranded away from her family. Her mother patted her arm, smiling maternally. You’ll be all right, dear. They’ll manage without you. But Mary knew they wouldn’t manage. Jack was useless in the kitchen and Jan was too young to shoulder the load. The head keeper’s wife wasn’t well, so it was too much to ask her to care for the children.
It was no surprise when Jack’s letter arrived.
Dear Mary,
I hope you are recovering well. It has been very difficult to manage both the light-station duties and the family on my own. I have decided that I must call on Rose to come and help us