Siddon Rock Read Free Page B

curved around the rock and away towards the interior.
    At the intersection of this road and the Two Mile Lakes Road, Fatman Aberline caught up with Macha, the growl of his motorbike loud in the silence of the surrounding bush. C’mon, Mach , he said. C’mon. Get on the back and I’ll take you home. C’mon, Mach. Let me help. Macha tramped on.
    Brigid Connor’s old Dodge truck laboured towards them with farm dogs hanging off the back, and stopped in front of Macha. Leaving Granna in the cab with her foot on the brake, Brigid strode towards her daughter with her arms wide for an embrace, but Macha appeared not to see her and continued her march, the rifle still held across her waist.
    Brigid ran back to the truck and drove it around in a noisy half-circle. Now its lights combined with that of the motorbike and made a clear path down the road, butMacha marched in the loose gravel at the verge. And so they continued, with Brigid driving the labouring truck behind her daughter, and Fatman Aberline riding at Macha’s side, and then ahead in frustration before returning to try again. C’mon, Mach. I’ll take you home. I’m sorry I laughed. Let me help.
    Granna leaned from the cab of the truck and shouted at Fatman, You. Young Aberline. Leave her alone and go on home. She don’t want you around right now. She slapped Brigid on the arm, Stop the truck. Let me down. She’s left something behind at wherever she’s been. She don’t need no-one yapping at her. And Granna walked in the gravel, interposed between Macha and the motorbike until Fatman Aberline gave up and turned back towards the town.
    I’ll go then , Brigid called over the yelping of the dogs. I’ll see you back at the house , and the truck rattled off, leaving just the scrunch of gravel under Macha’s boots and the smell of petrol floating in the startling silence.
    Granna and Macha walked on. Macha staggered occasionally, as if her invisible load was too much to bear. Granna took her arm in support, and then realised that they had been joined by a third person, who was humming gently as she walked, supporting Macha on the other side. She nodded to Nell. Singing in the dark keeps away the devils , she said.
    This ’un has hers inside , Nell said, and her humming became louder and more rhythmic. Granna started to sing old and familiar words. Hush little baby don’t you cry , she sang, you look much better when your eyes are dry. Nell’spitch changed slightly and added a deeper tone. And if that horse and cart falls down, you’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town.
    Granna found herself walking differently. Her body relaxed and her shoulders dropped and moved in a different rhythm. Her legs seemed to be longer and somehow more flexible as they stretched into deeper strides. She realised then that they were above the gravel road, lifted by their singing.
    The voices of the women rose and united as they turned into the home track holding the still-marching Macha between them. In the distance behind them a light shone from the windows of Sybil Barber’s house and reflected in the thick waters of the salt lake. Around them dust, dry bush smells and the sharp tang of newly ploughed paddocks blended to a pungent mix. Down the track they glided, over the sheep-grid at the house-paddock and across the hard dirt yard, still supporting Macha above the ground; then onto the wide verandah where the clamouring dogs went silent when they saw them.
    Through the back door into the kitchen they went, and down the hall to Macha’s room, as Brigid ran ahead to open the door. Nell and Granna stopped singing and lowered Macha to the floor where she marched on the spot. You can stop marching now , Granna said. At first Macha seemed not to have heard, but gradually her tempo slowed, and stopped, and she stood there clutching the rifle. The women stood close to steady her if she staggered; but Machamoved