Winter Read Free Page A

so lonely as that little bed sitting in the bare cold room. I brought in my bag and started unpacking. That helped a little, to see my familiar belongings. The worst thing was that there was no bedding. I’d planned to get some from Sylvia, but with all the tension at teatime I hadn’t got around to it, and no way in the world was I going back for it now.
    I didn’t even have a pillow, but I rolled up my PJs and used them. Then I went through the house turning the lights out again. Back in my bedroom I got a parka and my tracky-daks, and put those on over my clothes, then stretched out on the mattress.
    It wasn’t very comfortable. I got the feeling I’d be pretty cold by morning. I’d brought a book with me, The Butcher Boy , and I’d read half of it on the train, but I couldn’t be bothered reading any more now. And I had my Discman, but I’d flattened the batteries on the train playing Lena Horne over and over.
    I didn’t really want to play any more CDs though. I wanted to feel . . . something. Whatever was waiting for me in the homestead, whatever was waiting to be felt. I wanted to experience that. I got up again and turned off the last light, and groped my way back to bed.
    It was kind of early but I didn’t care. There was nothing else to do. And I was pretty tired from the train journey.
    Most of all though, I was hoping something powerful would happen, in the dark of my own room, back in my own home for the first time in twelve years.
    I lay there trembling with emotion and exhaustion. I guess only two or three minutes passed. I was still calming down, getting my head together, getting my head back in touch with my body.
    From out of the night came a loud knocking. It thundered through the empty house. It was like a bolt of lightning running down my back. I felt like my spine had fused, and I wouldn’t be able to move. Even when I heard the voice it took a few moments to realise who it was.
    â€˜Winter! Are you there?’
    â€˜Yeah, yeah, hang on.’
    I got the light on again and padded to the door on cold feet.
    Ralph was standing there with a pile of bedding. ‘I thought you might need these.’
    â€˜Oh, thanks. Thanks heaps.’ I think he wanted to bring them in but I took them from him. ‘That’s really nice of you,’ I said, glad he had given me a chance to show that I wasn’t always the super-bitch from hell.
    â€˜Oh well. Can’t have you sleeping on a bare mattress. Now that the nights are getting a bit cooler.’
    â€˜Yeah, I’ve got about three layers of clothes on. But these’ll be much better.’
    Neither of us knew where to go from there.
    â€˜Well,’ Ralph finally said. ‘We’ll have a chat in the morning maybe. Sort things out a bit.’
    â€˜Yeah, sure. Sounds good.’
    â€˜And just come up for breakfast any time you feel like it.’
    â€˜Oh, yeah, OK.’
    It was a relief to spread the sheets and doona out, to have a proper pillow, to be able to snuggle under the covers and feel the warmth gradually smother me.
    I closed my eyes. As I did I felt the familiar prickling in the corner of each eye. How many times had I gone to sleep like this? How many times had I cried myself to sleep at the Robinsons’? At least this time I wasn’t crying from frustration. This time was different. I just felt exhausted. It was like I’d come to the end of a long journey. I’d gone through so much to be here. I’m sure the Robinsons would think it was a pretty bad joke to hear me say that. ‘We’re the ones who’ve been through the hard time. That little miss has made our lives hell.’
    But they never knew about those nights I went to sleep with my pillow damp from the silent tears. They never knew about the misery of feeling so far from home, alone among strangers. They never knew how I hungered to be back at Warriewood.
    And now I was home. I