Stillwater Creek Read Free

eyes that were from fatigue rather than the dust that lay everywhere. Tears could not now be far off. After the long day it was no wonder that she was becoming a little excitable and in a way Ilona was glad of it after her calmness in recent months. ‘There is nothing here,’ she said gently. ‘Only a few old spider webs.’ She contemplated the high toilet cistern that was connected to the wall by metalbrackets and skeins of dusty webs. ‘In the morning I’ll brush all those down, but not now. I’m too tired and so are you.’ She pulled the chain and water gushed into the pan and swirled away. ‘That will frighten away any insects,’ she said more confidently than she felt. ‘And now you must have your bath.’
    When Zidra had at last fallen asleep in her narrow bed, Ilona put on a warm jacket and took a cup of tea out on to the rickety verandah. The dark shapes of overgrown shrubs defined the lower boundary of the backyard and, below this, the smooth water of the lagoon palely reflected the new moon. Although she couldn’t see the breakers, she could hear their regular pounding. Perhaps one day that sound might become an irritation, or maybe it would always be as soothing as it was now, when she was able at last to leave behind the anxiety of yet another journey that had ended. It was a far easier ending to the journey this time. Everything had seemed less difficult once she had seen the inside of the cottage and its outlook, and observed Zidra’s joy at the prospect of the garden.
    She would wait a few days before advertising piano lessons. After retrieving her notebook, she stared at the figures written in it: one hundred and sixty pounds, three shillings and ninepence was all that was left. Provided she was frugal, this was probably sufficient to live on for a while. It had come from her piano teaching. There had been none of Oleksii’s money left after the funeral expenses had been paid.
    She remembered how affronted Oleksii had initially been by her decision to give piano lessons after they’d settled in Homebush. Before the war she’d done nothing but practise the piano and take exams, for her father hadn’t wanted her to earn a living either, but those days were long gone. Oleksii had clearly forgotten that she’d worked in Bradford when they’dfirst met. Eventually she’d persuaded him that she would be unhappy if she didn’t teach but it hadn’t been easy. On no account was the money she earned to be used to supplement his meagre earnings at the biscuit factory, he’d said, insisting she open a bank account in her own name.
    Until she’d started teaching the piano in that dreary western Sydney suburb in which there was hardly a tree to be seen, she’d felt lonely and alienated. It was because her English was so poor and she had so little to do. In Bradford she’d mainly spoken Latvian, surrounded as she was by other refugees, and she seemed always to be working or caring for Zidra or sleeping, with no time left for music or for improving her English. It was their hope, when she and Oleksii left England five years ago, that they would have more spare time in Sydney. And for her there had been more time. Too much time, until Oleksii had bought the second-hand upright piano.
    After beginning to play again, she’d been surprised to discover that little had been forgotten, although her fingers were clumsy and stiff, and a part of her that she’d thought was dead began to send forth tender new shoots. That was when she’d hit upon the idea of teaching the piano. Once Oleksii was persuaded, she’d begun to teach and her English began to improve too. Oleksii’s death had changed this fragile equilibrium. Soon afterwards she’d decided that Zidra should grow up somewhere else, somewhere sheltered, a small town rather than a big city. When the McIntyres had mentioned their vacant cottage,