The Aloe Read Free Page B

from here” – piped the children. Houses were to be seen – little houses – they counted three – but not their house. The storeman knew – He had made the journey twice before that day – At last he raised his whip and pointed. “That’s one of your paddocks belonging,” he said “and the next and the next” – over the edge of the last paddock pushed tree boughs and bushes from an immense garden –
    A corrugated iron fence painted white held back the garden from the road – In the middle there was a gap – the iron gates were open wide – They clanked through up a drive cutting through the garden like a whip lash, looping suddenly an island of green and behind the island out of sight until you came upon it was the house. It was long and low built with a pillared verandah and balcony running all the way round – shallow steps led to the door – The soft white bulk of it lay stretched upon the green garden like a sleeping beast – and now one and now another of the windows leaped into light – Some one was walking through the empty rooms carrying a lighted candle. From a window downstairs the light of a fire flickered – a strange beautiful excitement seemed to stream from the house in quivering ripples. Over its roofs, the verandah poles, the window sashes, the moon swung her lantern.
    “Ooh” Kezia flung out her arms- The Grandmother had appeared on the top step – she carried a little lamp – she was smiling. “Has this house got a name” – asked Kezia fluttering for the last time out of the storeman’s hands.
    “Yes,” said the Grandmother, “it is called Tarana.” “Tarana” she repeated and put her hands upon the big glass door knob.
    “Stay where you are one moment children.” The Grandmother turned to the storeman. “Fred – these things can be unloaded and left on the verandah for the night. Pat will help you” – She turned and called into the hollow hall – “Pat are you there” – “I am ” came a voice, and the Irish handy man squeaked in new boots over the bare boards. But Lottie staggered over the verandah like a bird fallen out of a nest – she stood still for a moment her eyes closed – if she leaned – she fell asleep. She could not walk another step – “Kezia” said the Grandmother “can I trust you to carry the lamp.” “Yes, my Grandma” – The old woman knelt and gave the bright breathing thing into her hands and then she raised herself and caught up Lottie. “This way” – Through a square hall filled with furniture bales and hundreds of parrots (but the parrots were only on the wallpaper) down a narrow passage where the parrots persisted on either side walked Kezia with her lamp.
    “You are to have some supper before you go to bed” said the Grandmother putting down Lottie to open the dining room door – “Be very quiet,” she warned – “poor little mother has got such a headache.”
    Linda Burnell lay before a crackling fire in a long cane chair her feet on a hassock a plaid rug over her knees – Burnell and Beryl sat at a table in the middle of the room eating a dish of fried chops and drinking tea out of a brown china teapot – Over the back of her Mother’s chair leaned Isabel – She had a white comb in her fingers and in a gentle absorbed way she was combing back the curls from her Mother’s forehead – Outside the pool of lamp and firelight the room stretched dark and bare to the hollow windows – “Are those the children – “Mrs Burnell did not even open her eyes – her voice was tired and trembling – “Have either of them been maimed for life.” “No dear – perfectly safe and sound.”
    “Put down that lamp Kezia,” said Aunt Beryl “or we shall have the house on fire before we’re out of the packing cases. More tea – Stan?” “Well you might just give me five-eighths of a cup,” said Burnell, leaning across the table – “Have another chop Beryl – Tip top meat isn’t it. First rate First