‘I’ll be back when I can,’ Jack promised.

Many Yarra Valley residents, like Leanne, were reluctant to head to the city, despite knowing they’d be safe there, because they also knew police would close roads if fire approached. Once that happened, who knew when they’d be allowed back home? They hovered around radios and air-conditioners until puffs of smoke from still-distant fires blew in a premature sunset. By the time the first flames licked over the horizon, it would be too late to flee.

Fire loves hills: flames roll downhill, leisurely, then gather speed as they climb. Wind adds to both speed and intensity. In anticipation, I locked Jack’s windows and doors. I tugged down my thick cotton sleeves and tucked my jeans into heavy work boots usually kept for winter. Hopefully, Caleb had rejoined the volunteers in town.

The radio whispered calming messages. Politicians argued about a carbon tax and the future of coal. Fires were a long way off. Forty kilometres.

Twenty.

But then, thirty. It made no sense.

Confused, I listened closely. There was no mention of Cronins Gully, the small town that lay between us and the flames, or of Linlithgow, the larger town waiting down the road. And Brunton itself might have been non-existent. There was no fire here yet. Any hint of smoke wafted to us along with news from other places. A cold change, promising relief, was expected before the afternoon ended.

Jack’s house seemed full with the sound of the phone not ringing, of not knowing.

Shortly after 4.30, smoke intensified, wafting upwards from the creek bed between Jack’s house and my own. Thick wind gusts choked the air with unbreathable particles. After the waiting, in one minute, we reached complete crisis. Getting closer, the white smoke became stained with grey and gradually darkened to black. A huge red cloud formed, attacking with a deafening roar.

Fire.

Rushing to protect windows from radiant heat, I closed fireproof screens. I kept just one window clear, to watch.

Where are you?

3

JUTURNA | Goddess of Pools, Wells and Springs

Her waters could cleanse and heal. In Juturna’s honour, flowers were tossed over bodies of water. Her iconography was mysterious, but she was sometimes depicted as a woman with a winged helmet.

In my best teacher’s voice, I called the Beckwith children into Jack’s sitting room. ‘We’ll wait for the front to pass.’ Speaking made this easier to believe. ‘Then we’ll go out with buckets and blankets…’

For once, Harmony obeyed. Leanne peered out of the small window beside me, her face white. Smoke broiled through the sky, no longer distant. Close, getting closer. Shooting through the smoke were ember sprays, the colour of molten gold, brightening further as they reached air. I heard the click and rattle of Jack’s sprinkler system coming to life, and watched as his precious water turned to steam. This was it.