Song for Emilia. Julia Osborne

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ hadn’t spoken, Prue said: ‘In class yesterday, I had to read Lady Macbeth’s part, where she says ...if she’d sworn to do it, she’d tear her baby’s mouth off her nipple and dash his brains out. Nipple! I had to read nipple. I bet all the kids were glad it was me and not them.’

      Sandra laughed, imagining Prue’s unaccustomed embarrassment. At least a bus trip to The Gap was something different. Her life had been strangely quiet since Aunt Meredith and Mister L’estrange fell in love.

      The bus emptied many of its passengers near the harbour-side beaches, then continued up the hill and along the road towards The Gap.

      At first they leaned their elbows on the fence. Beyond, the cliffs dropped down down and down to the rocks below. Sandra felt a creepy sensation knowing that this was a favourite place for sad, desperate people to jump to their deaths. Or be pushed. A year ago when they’d first visited The Gap together and leaned on the fence like today, Prue admitted to enjoying this feeling – the thrill of anticipation, imagining the leap ...

      ‘I’m climbing the fence,’ Prue said. ‘My favourite pozzy’s over there.’ She pointed southwards, to a narrow sandstone ledge beyond the ragged cliff-top grass and wind-beaten bushes.

      Projecting a short distance from the cliff face, it filled Sandra with horror. ‘Don’t,’ she pleaded. ‘It looks too dangerous.’

      ‘I’ve often done it.’ Prue slipped through the fence. ‘Be a sook if you want to.’ She walked along the cliff top, to sit on the stone ledge, feet hanging over the sea.

      Cross at the old accusation, Sandra followed her, hands and feet tingling with apprehension. Aunt Meredith would be appalled. As for her parents – their mother would have a heart attack. This thought gave her a false courage, and she sidled over to sit beside Prue. Far below the waves frothed dark and fathomless against the darker rocks. Perhaps it would seem less menacing when morning sunlight sparkled on the cliff face, lighting its colours. If she stared down into it long enough, would it would begin to beckon ...was that what people called vertigo?

      For a while they sat in silence, swinging their legs as they watched the swell gush in and out among the rocks.

      ‘What’s it like to jump off, do you think?’ Prue asked. ‘You’d have to be a bit mad, wouldn’t you?’

      Sandra contemplated the question. Aunt Meredith had described how her boyfriend William had been a bit mad when he came back from the Korean War, but he hadn’t meant to get run over. Auntie told her how William had nightmares, and walked the streets around Bronte half the night – till he got hit by a tram in the early dawn light. It was an accident, wasn’t it? She hated how her own questions bounced back at her.

      Before she could answer Prue, behind them, somewhere back on the road, they heard a voice call. It called again, urgent: ‘Hey, you! You girls!’

      Turning her head, Sandra saw a man hurrying across the road towards them, his voice more anxious with every step.

      ‘Come off that cliff, girls. Quickly and quietly now.’ He stood at the fence, hands on hips.

      He seemed so worried, Sandra said, ‘Something’s up. We’d better do as he says.’

      Prue gave a snort, but inched back from the edge, swinging her feet onto the grass. They climbed back through the fence, to stand regarding the man whose face showed immense relief.

      ‘What on earth—’ he began. ‘It’s sandstone, don’t you know? A soft stone. Where you were sitting, bold as brass enjoying the afternoon sun, the weather can eat out the stone underneath, wearing it away. Sometimes big chunks can suddenly fall into the sea.’ His face softened with relief. ‘Please, will you never, never do that again.’

      Sandra shivered as she understood what he meant. She looked back at the ledge where they’d sat, saw how the wind and weather had begun to wear a hollow beneath it. Maybe in years to come, or maybe tomorrow, that ledge would crack, tumbling broken rocks down into the sea.

      As they walked back to the bus stop, ‘How would he know?’ Prue scowled. ‘Silly old man.’

      ‘He lives over the road, so he’d know,’ Sandra replied. ‘Maybe he watches everything, to save people from jumping off The Gap. Anyway, I believe him.’

      ‘Maybe he thought we’d made a suicide pact,’ Prue said. ‘Hold hands. Jump off the cliff together.’

      Sandra glanced sideways at her sister. ‘You say such stupid things.’

      But later she worried, listening to the records Prue played in her bedroom, the portable turntable spinning songs of loss and anguish. Heartbreak Hotel ad infinitum.

      ♫

      

      Don and Angela returned to their comfortable armchairs after dinner. When Rawhide finished, the house relaxed in a mood of peace and quiet: a beautiful evening, warm enough for cicadas to sing. Tonight there wasn’t any argument about whose turn to wash or dry the dishes, and washing up done, Sandra and Prue went to their bedrooms to read or finish homework.

      Don breathed out a little cloud of smoke, tapping his pipe on the ashtray. ‘Since we moved to Sydney, we’ve spent all our holidays at home. I’ve been thinking maybe we should do something different.’

      ‘Now we live near the beach, it’s not as if—’

      ‘Angela, dear,’ Don said, ‘it hasn’t been easy for me. You know the new branch is a big workload, and it’ll get worse with decimal currency coming in ’66. I’d like to get out of the city at least for part of my holiday, breathe some bush air again for a week or so.’

      ‘What do you have in mind?’

      ‘We can drive down the coast, then go inland to Adaminaby and Lake Eucumbene. The whole Snowy hydro scheme will be fun to visit and an education for the girls. The lake must have filled by now. We can camp, or stay in cabins or a motel. How about it?’

      ‘I’ll leave it for you to investigate,’ Angela said. Really, she would rather stay at home. The garden needed attention – the new zucchinis might die in her absence. Disappointed at the thought, she agreed. ‘It sounds a very nice idea.’

      In her nightdress, Sandra came from the kitchen with a glass of milk. ‘What sounds a nice idea?’

      ‘Your father wants to take us on a holiday to Lake Eucumbene, before school goes back.’

      ‘Why do we want to go to some old lake out in the country? We can have our holiday at home,’ Sandra said, innocently echoing her mother’s opinion.

      ‘It’s a new lake,’ Don said. ‘Part of the grand Snowy Mountains scheme for hydro-electricity. You’ve heard how to make way for the dam, almost every building in Adaminaby, even a church, was moved by truck or picked apart and rebuilt brick by brick and stone by stone. Now the lake is famous, people can go fishing for trout—’

      ‘Dad, we don’t go fishing for trout, or anything, ever!’ Sandra heard herself whinge. ‘I’ve got things I want to do.’

      ‘Now now,’ Angela СКАЧАТЬ