The First Week Read Free Page B

‘How dare you. How dare you blame Brian!’
    Michelle flinched, but Marian’s anger ebbed as quickly as it had come and she turned away, not caring.
    Before Michelle could speak there was a howl from outside. Both women ran.
    Tara had fallen into the dusty sword ferns at the edge of the verandah and was holding her head in both hands and making a high pitched drone. ‘Nananananana.’
    â€˜What happened,’ Michelle demanded, grabbing at her.
    â€˜Bit me,’ the child cried.
    Michelle whirled around. ‘The dog,’ she said, ‘that bloody dog.’
    Jeb cowered behind Marian, tail down.
    â€˜Bullshit,’ Marian said.
    She squatted down by Tara. ‘He was only trying to lick you. Remember? Like last time.’
    He wants to make friends, she thought of adding, but speaking seemed such an effort. For a moment panic seized her. Was she having a stroke? But even that thought sank away as she stood up, steadying herself with one hand on the verandah post.
    Michelle checked Tara over and pulled her to her feet.
    â€˜We’ll go,’ she said, mouth tight. ‘No point trying to help here.’
    â€˜No,’ Marian said. She knew she shouldn’t let them go like that, but she couldn’t find the energy. All she wanted was sleep.
    How could this happen? Why hadn’t she known something was wrong?
    Charlie hadn’t rung for … how long? Weeks. A month or more.
    When he first went to the city Marian rang him every week, making conversation, telling him news, asking how he was getting on. Her own first time away from home was vivid in her memory, how lost she’d been.
    If Charlie felt like that, he wasn’t letting on. Okay , he’d say. Yeah. Or sometimes, in a burst of words, Mum, stop worry­ing! I’m fine.
    He started out boarding with a sister of Evie’s, did well in his exams, came home and helped with the harvest, and announced that he’d found his own place.
    In the long midnight hours Marian told herself he’d be all right. He was a clever boy and he’d manage.
    Brian was bracing. Don’t hassle him. What can happen? He’s too busy with his head in a book to get into trouble.
    Marian bit back the list of dangers. Drugs, drink, cars.
    Lucky Brian had fixed the ute. It meant she could take the Astra and be comfortable.
    Maybe she should get Brian to come after all. But there was the farm. One of them had to stay, him or her. And these days it was Brian who did the bulk of the work.
    Anyway he wouldn’t care about seeing Charlie, wouldn’t have anything to say.
    They were friends when they were little.
    Michelle disliked Charlie. That didn’t help.
    Marian stood at the gate of the chook yard. What was she doing?
    That’s right. Fill the hopper. Check the water.
    The second gate, into the veggie garden, scraped against the soil. The hinge needed fixing. But not now. Now there was only time for watering. If she gave everything a good soak, it would be all right for a day or so. The lettuces might suffer though. She knelt down, knees straining, and touched the leaves. The green against the brown soil, rich with compost, gave her no pleasure today. Pushing herself upright she hung on to the tap while a wave of humming darkness engulfed her. She breathed in and out slowly and turned on the tap.
    The house. What did she need to do about the house? The kitchen?
    The sink was still piled high with the good china. She slid a stack of plates into the lukewarm water, then thought of something else. Tins of meat so that Brian could feed Jeb. Forgetting about the dishes Marian wandered over to the table and started a note to Brian.
    Jeb. Chooks. Lettuce seedlings. What else? The point of the pencil pressed into the paper, but her hand was paralysed. There must be other things. If it doesn’t rain , she wrote carefully. They always said that, for luck, to try and outwit fate.
    Oh God! The tap was still running