 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, this reading by Lucy Burgoyne. At the Bay, by Catherine Mansfield. Chapter 1 Very early morning the sun was not yet risen and the whole of Crescent Bay was hidden under a white sea mist. The big bush covered hills at the back west mothered. You could not see where they ended and the paddocks and bungalows began. The sandy road was gone and the paddocks and the bungalows the other side of it. There were no white dunes covered with reddish grass beyond them. There was nothing to mark which was beach and where was the sea. A heavy dew had fallen. The grass was blue. Big drops hung on the bushes and just did not fall. The silvery fluffy toy toy was limped on its long stalks and all the merry golds and the pinks in the bungalow gardens were bowed to the earth with wetness. Drenched were the cold fuchsias, round pools of dew lay on the flat nasturtium lee. It looked as though the sea had beaten up softly in the darkness. As though one immense wave had come rippling how far. Perhaps if you had waked up in the middle of the night you might have seen a big fish flicking in at the window and gone again. Ha ha sounded the sleepy sea and from the bush there came the sound of little streams flowing. Quickly, lightly, slipping between the smooth stones gushing into ferny basins and out again. And there was the splashing of big drops on large leaves and something else. What was it? A faint stirring and shaking, the snapping of a twig and then such silence that it seemed someone was listening. Round the corner of Crescent Bay between piled up masses of broken rock a flock of sheep came pattering. They were huddled together, a small tossing woolly mass and their thin stick-like legs trotted along quickly as if the cold and the quiet had frightened them. Behind them an old sheepdog, his soaking paws covered with sand, ran along with his nose to the ground but carelessly as if thinking of something else. And then in the rocky gateway the shepherd himself appeared. There was a lean, upright old man in a freeze coat that was covered with a web of tiny drops, velvet trousers tied under the knee and a wide awake with a folded blue handkerchief round the brim. One hand was crammed into his belt, the other grasped a beautifully smooth yellow stick. As he walked, taking his time, he kept up a very soft light whistling, an eerie, far away fluting that sounded mournful and tender. The old dog cut an ancient caper or two and then drew up sharp, ashamed of his liberty, and walked a few dignified paces by his master's side. He ran forward in little pattering rushes. They began to fleet and ghostly flocks and herds answered them from under the sea. Baa, baa. For a time they seemed to be always on the same piece of ground. There ahead was stretched the sandy road with shallow puddles, the same soaking bushes showed on either side and the same shadowing palinks. Then something immense came into view, an enormous shock-haired giant with his arms stretched out. It was the big gum tree outside Mrs Stubbs' shop and as they passed by there was a strong whiff of eucalyptus. And now big spots of light gleamed in the mist. The ship had stopped whistling, he rubbed his red nose and wet beard on his wet sleeve and, screwing up his eyes, glanced in the direction of the sea. The sun was rising, it was marbles how quickly the mist thinned, sped away, dissolved from the shallow plain, rolled up from the bush and was gone as if in a hurry to escape. Big twists and curls jostled and shouldered each other as the silvery beams broadened. The far away sky, a bright, pure blue, was reflected in the puddles and the drops swimming along the telegraph poles flashed into points of light. Now the leaping, glittering sea was so bright it made one's eyes ache to look at it. The ship had drew a pipe, the bowl as small as an acorn, out of his breast pocket, tumbled for a chunk of speckled tobacco, peered off a few shavings and stuffed the bowl. He was a grave, fine-looking old man. As he lit up and the blue smoke reached his head, the dove, watching, looked proud of him. Bah, bah! The sheep spread out into a fan. They were just clear at the summer colony before the first sleeper turned over and lifted a drowsy head. Their cries sounded in the dreams of little children who lifted their arms to drag down to cuddle the darling little woolly lambs asleep. Then the first inhabitant appeared. It was the Burnell's cat, Flory, sitting on the gatepost, far too early as usual, looking for their milk girl. When she saw the old sheepdog, she sprung up quickly, arched her back, drew in her tabby head and seemed to give a little fastidious shiver. Ah, what a coarse revolting creature, said Flory. But the old sheepdog, not looking up, waggle past, flinging out his legs from side to side. Only one of his ears twitched to prove that he saw and thought her a silly young female. The breeze of morning lifted in the bush and the smell of leaves and wet black earth mingled with the sharp smell of the sea. Myriads of birds were singing. A goldfinch flew over the shepherd's head and perching on the tip top of a spray. It turned to the sun, ruffling its small breast furthers and now they had passed the fisherman's hut, passed the charred looking little wall where Leela the milk girl lived with her old gran. The sheep strayed over a yellow swamp and wagged the sheepdog, padded after, rounded them up and headed them for the steeper, narrower, rocky paths that led out a crescent bay and towards daylight cove. Bah, bah, thanked the cry came as they rocked along the fast, drying road. The shepherd put away his pipe, dropping it into his breast pocket so that the little bowl hung over and straight away the soft airy whistling began again. Wagg ran out along a ledge of rock after something that smelled and ran back again disgusted, then pushing, nudging, hurrying the sheep round at the bend and the shepherd followed after out of sight. End of chapter one. Chapter two. A few moments later the back door of one of the bungalows opened and a figure in a broad stripe bathing suit flung down the paddock, cleared the style, rushed through the tattered grass into the hollow, staggered up the little sandy hillock and raced for dear life over the big, poorer stones, over the cold, wet pebbles onto the hard sand that gleamed like oil. Splished, sploshed, splished, sploshed, the water bubble ground his legs as Stanley Burnell waded out exulting. First man in as usual, he'd beaten them all again and he swept down to south his head and neck. How, brother, all how? The mighty one, a velvety bass voice came booming over the water. Great Scott, damnation, take it! Stanley lifted up to see a dark head bobbing far out and an arm lifted. It was Jonathan Trout there before him. Glorious morning sung the voice. Yes, very fine, said Stanley briefly. Why the Dickens didn't the fellow stick to his part of the sea? Why should he become barging over to this exact spot? Stanley gave a kick, a lunge and struck out, swimming over arm. But Jonathan was a match for him. Up he came, his black hair sleek, on his forehead, his short beard sleek. I had an extraordinary dream last night, he shouted. What was the matter with the man? This mania for conversation irritated Stanley beyond words. And it was always the same, always some people about a dream he'd had, or some cranky idea he'd got hold of, or some rot he'd been reading. Stanley turned over on his back and kicked with his legs till he was a living waterspout. But even then, I dreamed I was hanging over a terrifically high cliff shouting to someone below. He could be thought Stanley. He could stick no more of it. He stopped splashing. Look here, trout. He said, I'm in rather a hurry this morning. You're what? Jonathan was so surprised, or pretended to be, that he sunk under the water, then reappeared again blowing. All I mean is, said Stanley, I've no time to fill about. I want to get this over. I'm in a hurry. I've worked to do this morning, see? Jonathan was gone before Stanley had finished. Past friend, said the bass voice gently. And he slid away through the water with scarcely a ripple, but cursed the fellow. He'd ruined Stanley's bath. What an unpractical idiot the man was. Stanley struck out to sea again, and then as quickly swum in again, away he rushed up the beach. He felt cheated. Jonathan stayed a little longer in the water. He floated, gently moving his hands like fins, and letting the sea rock his long, skinny body. It was curious, but in spite of everything, he was fond of Stanley Bernal. True, he had a fendish desire to tease him sometimes, to poke fun at him. But, at bottom, he was sorry for the fellow. There was something pathetic in his determination to make a job of everything. You couldn't help feeling he'd be caught out one day, and then what an almighty cropper he'd come. At that moment, an immense wave lifted Jonathan, rode past him, and broke along the beach with a joyful sound. What a beauty! And now there came another. That was the way to live, carelessly, recklessly, spending oneself. He got onto his feet and began to wade towards the shore, pressing his toes into the firm, wrinkled sand, to take things easy, not to fight against the ebb and flow of life, but to give way to it. That was what was needed. It was this tension that was all wrong, to live, to live, and the perfect morning, so fresh and fair, basking in the light as though laughing at its own beauty, seemed to whisper, why not? But now he was out of the water. Jonathan turned blue with cold. He ached all over. It was as though someone was ringing the blood out of him, and stalking up the beach, shivering, all his muscles tight, he too felt his babe was foiled. He'd stayed in too long. End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Beryl was alone in the living room when Stanley appeared, wearing a blue surge suit, a stick collar, and a spotted tie. He looked almost uncannily clean and brushed. He was going to town for the day. Dropping into his chair, he pulled out his watch and put it beside his plate. I've just got 25 minutes, he said. You might go and see if porridge is ready, Beryl. Mother's just gone for it, said Beryl. He sat down at the table and poured out his tea. Thanks, Stanley took a sip. Hello, he said in an astonished voice. You've forgotten the sugar. Oh, sorry. But even then, Beryl didn't help him. She pushed the basin across. What did this mean? As Stanley helped himself, his blue eyes widened. They seemed to quiver. He showed a quick glance at his sister-in-law and leaned back. Long is there, he asked carelessly, fingering his collar. Beryl's head was bent. She turned her plate in her fingers. Nothing said her light voice. Then she too looked up and smiled at Stanley. Why should there be? Oh, no reason at all, as far as I know. I thought she seemed rather... At that moment, the door opened and the three little girls appeared, each carrying a porridge plate. They were dressed alike in blue jerseys and knickers. Their brown legs were bare, and each had her hair plaited and pinned up in what was called a horse's tail. Behind them came Mrs Fairfield with the train. Carefully, children, she warned, but they were taking the very greatest care. They loved being allowed to carry things. Have you said good morning to your father? Yes, Grandma. They settled themselves on the bench opposite Stanley and Beryl. Good morning, Stanley. Old Mrs Fairfield gave him his plate. Morning, Mother, how's the boy? Splendid. He only woke up once last night. What a perfect morning. The old woman paused, her hand on the loaf of bread to gaze out at the open door into the garden. The sea sounded. Through the wide open windows, she turned the sun onto the yellow varnish walls and bare floor. Everything on the table flashed and glittered. In the middle, there was an old salad bowl filled with yellow and red nasturtiums. She smiled, and a looker deep content shone in her eyes. You might cut me a slice of that bread, Mother, said Stanley. I've only twelve and a half minutes before the coach passes. Has anyone given my shoes to the servant girl? Yes, they're ready for you. Mrs Fairfield was quite unruffled. Oh, Casire, why are you such a messy child? cried Beryl, despairingly. Me, Aunt Beryl, Casire stared at her. What had she done now? She had only dug a river down the middle of her porridge, filled it, and was eating the banks away. But she did that every single morning, and no one had said a word up till now. Why can't you eat your food properly, like Isabelle and Lottie? How unfair grown-ups are. But Lottie always makes a floating island. Don't you, Lottie? I don't, said Isabelle, smartly. I just sprinkle mine with sugar and put on the milk and finish it. Only babies play with their food. Stanley pushed back his chair and got up. Would you get me those shoes, Mother? And Beryl, if you finished, I wish you'd cut down to the gate and stop the coach. Run into your mother, Isabelle, and ask her where my bowl of hats been put. Wait a minute. Have you children been playing with my stick? No, Father. But I put it here. Stanley began to bluster. I remember distinctly putting it in this corner. Now, who's had it? There's no time to lose. Look sharp. The stick's got to be found. Even Alice, the servant girl, was drawn into the chase. You haven't been using it to poke the kitchen fire with by any chance. Stanley dashed into the bedroom where Linda was lying. Most extraordinary thing. I can't keep a single possession to myself. They've made away with my stick now. Stick, dear? What stick? Linda's vagueness on these occasions could not be real, Stanley decided. Would nobody sympathise with him? Coach. Coach Stanley. Beryl's voice cried from the gate. Stanley waved his arm to Linda. No time to say goodbye, he cried. And he meant that as punishment to her. He snatched his bowler hat, dashed out of the house and swung down the garden path. Yes, the coach was there waiting. And Beryl, leaning over the open gate, was laughing up at somebody or other, just as if nothing had happened. The heartlessness of women. The way they took it for granted, it was your job to slave away for them while they didn't even take the trouble to see that your walking stick wasn't lost. Kelly trailed his whip across the horses. Goodbye Stanley, called Beryl, sweetly and gaily. It was easy enough to say goodbye. And there she stood, idle, shading her eyes with a hand. The worst of it was Stanley had to shout goodbye too for the sake of appearances. Then he saw her turn, give a little skip and run back to the house. She was glad to be rid of him. Yes, she was thankful. Into the living room she ran and called. He's gone. Linda cried from her room. Beryl, has Stanley gone? Old Mrs. Fairfield appeared, carrying the boy in his little flannel coatie. Gone, gone. Oh, the relief, the difference it made to have the man out of the house. Their very voices were changed as they called to one another. They sounded warm and loving and as if they shared a secret. Beryl went over to the table. Have another cup of tea, mother. It's still hot. She wanted somehow to celebrate the fact that they could do what they liked now. There was no man to deserve them. The whole perfect day was theirs. No, thank you, child, said old Mrs. Fairfield. But the way, at that moment, she tossed the boy up and said, a goose, goose, gaga. To him meant that she felt the same. The little girls ran into the paddocks like chickens let out of a coop. Even Alice, the servant girl, washing up the dishes in the kitchen, caught the infection and used the precious tank water in a perfectly reckless fashion. Oh, these men, she said, and she plunged the teapot into the bowl and held it under the water. Even after it had stopped bubbling, as if it, too, was a man and drowning was too good for them. End of Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Wait for me, Isabel. Kazia, wait for me. There was poor little Lottie left behind again, because she found it so fearfully hard to get over the style by herself. When she stood on the first step, her knees began to wobble. She grasped the post. Then you had to put one leg over, but which leg? She never could decide. And when she did finally put one leg over, with a sort of a stab of despair, then the feeling was awful. She was half in the paddock still and half in the tusslegrass. She crunched the post desperately and lifted up her voice. Wait for me. No, don't you wait for her, Kazia, said, Isabel. She's such a little silly. She's making a fuss. Come on, and she tugged Kazia's jersey. You can use my bucket if you come with me, she said kindly. It's bigger than yours, but Kazia couldn't leave Lottie all by herself. She ran back to her. By this time, Lottie was very red in the face and breathing heavily. Here, put your other foot over, said Kazia. Where? Lottie looked down at Kazia, as if from a mountain height. Lotties, Kazia patted the place. Oh, there, do you mean? Lottie gave a deep sigh and put the second foot over. Now, sort of turn round and sit down and slide, said Kazia. But there's nothing to sit down on, Kazia, said Lottie. She managed it at last and once it was over, she shook herself and began to bean. I'm getting better at climbing over sails, aren't I, Kazia? Lotties was a very hopeful nature. The pink and the blue sunbonnet followed Isabelle's bright red sunbonnet up that sliding slipping hill. At the top, they paused to decide where to go and to have good stare at who was there already. Seen from behind, standing against the skyline, gesticulating largely, with their spades, they looked like minute puzzle explorers. The whole family of Samuel Joseph was there already for Lady Help, who sat on a camp stool and kept order with a whistle that she wore tied round her neck and a small cane with which she directed operations. The Samuel Josephs never played by themselves or managed their own game. If they did, it ended in the boys pouring water down the girls' necks, or the girls trying to put little black crabs into the boys' pockets. So Mrs. Samuel Josephs drew up what she called a program every morning to keep them abused and out of bisteria. It was all competitions, all races, all round games. Everything began with a piercing blast of the Lady Help's whistle and ended with another. There were even prizes, large rather dirty parcels which the Lady Help, with her sour little smile, drew out of a bulging string kit. The Samuel Josephs fought fearfully prizes and cheated and pinched one another's arms. They were all expert pinchers. The only time the Bernal children ever played with them, Khaziah had got a prize. And when she undid three bits of paper she found a very small rusty buttonhook. She couldn't understand why they made such a fuss. But they never played with the Samuel Josephs, now or even went to their parties. The Samuel Josephs were always giving children's parties at the bay and there was always the same food. A big wash hand basin, a very brown fruit salad, buns cut into four and a wash hand jug full of something the Lady Help called Lemon Deer. And you went away in the evening with half the frill torn off your frock or something spilled all down the front of your open work pinafore. Leaving the Samuel Josephs leaping like savages on their lawn no, they were too awful. On the other side of the beach, close down to the water two little boys their knickers rolled up, twinkled like spiders. One was digging the other patted in and out of the water, filling a small bucket. They were the trout boys Pip and Rags. The Pip were so busy digging and Rags were so busy helping that they didn't see their little cousins until they were quite close. Look, said Pip, look what I've discovered. And he showed them an old wet, squash looking boot. The three girls stared. Whatever are you going to do with it? Asked Khaziah. Keep it, of course. Pip was very scornful. It's a fine sea. Yes, Khaziah saw that. All the same, there's a lot of things buried in the sand, explained Pip. They get chucked up from the rags. Treasure. Why, you might find. But why does Rags have to keep on pouring water in r-slotting? Oh, that's to moisten it, said Pip to make the work a bit easier. Keep it up, Rags. And a good little Rags ran up and down pouring in the water that turned brown like cocoa. Here, shall I show you what I found yesterday? Said Pip mysteriously. And he stuck his fade into the sand. Promised not to tell. They promised. So crossed my heart, straight dink him. The little girl said it. Pip took something out of his pocket, rubbed it a long time on the front of his jersey, then breathed on it and rubbed it again. Now turn round, he ordered. They turned round. All looked the same way. Keep still now. And his hand opened. He held up to the light something that flashed, that winked, that was the most lovely green. The Nemeral said Pip solemnly. Is it really Pip? Even Isabelle was impressed. The lovely green thing seemed to dance in Pip's fingers. Aunt Beryl had a Nemeral ring, but it was a very small one. This one was as big as a star. And far more beautiful. End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 As the morning lengthened, whole parties appeared over the sand and came down on the beach to bathe. It was understood that at 11 o'clock the women and children of the summer colony had the sea to themselves. First the women undress pulled on their bathing dresses and covered their heads in hideous caps like sponge bags. Then the children were unbuttoned. The beach was drawn with little heaps of clothes and shoes. The big summer hats with stones on them to keep them from blowing away looked like immense shells. It was strange that even the sea seemed to sound differently when all those leaping laughing figures ran into the waves. Old Mrs Fairfield in a lilac cotton dress and a black hat tied under the chin gathered her little brood and got them ready. The little trout boys with their shirts over their heads and away the fives bed. While their grandmas sat with one hand in her knitting bag, ready to draw out the ball of wool when she was satisfied they were safely in. The firm compact little girls were not half so brave as the tender delicate looking little boys pipping rags, shivering crouching down, slapping the water never hesitated. But Isabelle who could swim 12 strokes and Kazia who could nearly swim eight only followed on the strict understanding they were not to be splashed. As for Lottie she didn't follow at all she liked to be left to go in her own way please and that way was to sit down at the edge of the water, her legs straight her knees pressed together and to make vague motions with her arms as if she expected to be wafted out to sea but when a bigger wave than usual an old whiskery one came lolliping along in her direction she scrambled to her feet with a face of horror and flew up the beach again. Here mother, keep those for me will you? Two rings and a thin gold chain were dropped into Mrs Fairfield's lap. Yes dear, but aren't you going to bathe here? No Beryl draw she sounded vague. I'm undressing father along I'm going to bathe with Mrs Harry Kember. Very well that Mrs Fairfield's lips set. She disapproved at Mrs Harry Kember Beryl knew it. Poor old mother she smiled as she skimmed over the stones poor old mother oh what a joy what bliss it was to be young you look very pleased said Mrs Harry Kember she sat hunched up on the stones her arms round her knees smoking it's such a lovely day said Beryl smiling down at her oh my dear Mrs Harry Kember's voice sounded as though she knew better than that. But her voice always sounded as though she knew something better about you than you did yourself. She was a long, strange looking woman with narrow hands and feet. Her face too was long and narrow and exhausted looking. Even her fair curl fringe looked burnt out and withered. She was the only woman at the bay who smoked and she smoked incessantly keeping the cigarette between her lips while she talked and only taking it out when the ash was so long you could not understand why it did not fall. When she was not playing bridge she played bridge every day of her life. She spent her time lying in the full glare of the sun. She could stand any amount of it she never had enough all the same it did not seem to warm her parched, withered, cold she lay stretched on the stones like a piece of tossed up through foot. The women at the bay thought she was very, very fast. Her lack of vanity her slang, the way she treated men as though she was one of them and the fact that she didn't care toughens about her house and called the servant girl Gladys. Gladys was disgraceful standing on the random steps Mrs Kember would call in her indifferent tired voice I say, Gladys you might heed me a handkerchief if I've got one will you and Gladys a red bow in her hair instead of a cap and white shoes came running with an impudent smile it was an absolute scandal. True she had no children and her husband here the voices were also raised they became fervent how can he have married her how can he, how can he it must have been money of course, but even then Mrs Kember's husband was at least 10 years younger than she was and so incredibly handsome that he looked like a mask or a most perfect illustration in an American novel rather than a man black hair, dark blue eyes red lips a slow sleepy smile a fine tennis player a perfect dancer and with all a mystery Harry Kember was like a man walking in his sleep men couldn't stand him they couldn't get a word out of the chap he ignored his wife just as she ignored him how did he live of course there were stories but such stories they simply couldn't be told the women he'd been seen with the places he'd been seen in but nothing was ever certain, nothing definite some of the women at the bay privately thought he'd commit a murder one day yes even while they talked to Mrs Kember and took in the awful concoction she was wearing they saw her stretched as she lay on the beach but cold, bloody and still with a cigarette stuck in the corner of her mouth Mrs Kember rose, yawned unsnapped her belt buckle and tugged at the tape of her flowers and Beryl stepped out of her skirt and shed her jersey and stood up in her short white petticoat and her camisole with ribbon bows on the shoulders Mercy on us said Mrs Harry Kember what a beauty you are don't, said Beryl softly but drawing off one stocking and then the other she felt a little beauty my dear, why not said Mrs Harry Kember stamping on her own petticoat really, her underclothes a pair of blue cotton knickers and a linen bodice that reminded one somehow of a pillowcase and you don't wear stays do you she touched Beryl's waist and Beryl sprung away with a small affected cry then, never she said firmly lucky little creature sighed Mrs Kember unfastening her own Beryl turned her back and begun the complicated movements of someone who is trying to take off her clothes and to pull on her bathing dress all at the one and the same time oh, my dear, don't mind me said Mrs Harry Kember why be shy I shan't eat you I shan't be shocked like those other ninnies and she gave her strange neighing laugh and grimace at the other women but Beryl was shy she never undressed in front of anybody was that silly Mrs Harry Kember made her feel it was silly even something to be ashamed of why be shy indeed quickly at her friend standing so boldly in her torn shimmy and lightning a fresh cigarette and a quick bold evil feeling started up in her breast laughing recklessly she drew on the limp sandy feeling bathing dress that was not quite dry and fastened the twisted buttons that's better said Mrs Harry Kember they began to go down the beach together really, it's a sin for you to wear clothes my dear somebody's got to tell you someday the water was quite warm it was the marvellous transparent blue flecked with silver but the sand at the bottom looked gold when you kicked with your toes there rose a little puff of gold dust now the waves just reached her breast Beryl stood her arms outstretched gazing out and as each wave came she gave the slightest little jump so that it seemed it was the wave which lifted her so gently I believe in pretty girls having good time said Mrs Harry Kember why not, don't you make a mistake my dear enjoy yourself and suddenly she turned turtle disappeared and swung away quickly quickly like a rat then she flicked round and began swimming back she was going to say something else Beryl felt that she was being poisoned by this cold woman but she longed to hear but oh how strange how horrible as Mrs Harry Kember came up close she looked in her black waterproof bathing cap with her sleepy face lifted above the water just her chin touching like a horrible caricature of her husband End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 In a steamer chair under a manuka tree that grew in the middle of the front grass patch Linda Bernal dreamed the morning away she did nothing she looked up at the dark, close dry leaves of the manuka at the chinks of blue between and now and again a tiny yellowish flower dropped on her pretty, yes if you held one of those flowers on the palm of your hand and looked at it closely it was an exquisite small thing each pale yellow petal shone as if each was the careful work of a loving hand the tiny tongue in the centre gave it the shape of a bell and when you turned it over the outside was a deep bronze colour but as soon as they flowered they fell and were scattered you brushed them off your frock as you talked the horrid little things called in ones hair why then flower at all who takes the trouble or the joy to make all these things that are wasted wasted it was uncanny on the grass beside her lying between two pillows was the boy sound asleep he lay his head turned away from his mother his fine dark hair looked more like a shadow than like real hair but his ear was a bright deep coral Linda clasped her hands above her head and crossed her feet it was very pleasant to know that all these bungalows were empty that everybody was down on the beach out of sight out of hearing she had the garden to herself she was alone dazzling white the Piketty shone the golden eyed merry gold glitter the nasturtiums read the brand of poles in green and gold flame only one had time to look at these flowers long enough time to get over the sense of novelty and strangeness time to know them but as soon as one paused to part the petals to discover the underside of the leaf along came life and one was swept away and lying in her cane chair Linda felt so light she felt like a leaf along came life like a wind and she was seized and shaken she had to go oh dear would it always be so was there no escape now she sat on the veranda of their Tasmanian home leaning against her father's knee and he promised as soon as you and I are old enough Leni will cut off somewhere we'll escape two boys together I have a fancy I'd like to sail up a river in China I saw that river very wide covered with little rafts and boats she saw the yellow hats of the boatmen and she heard their high thin voices as they called yes papa but just then a very broad young man with bright ginger hair walked slowly past their house and slowly, solemnly even uncovered Linda's father pulled her ear teasingly in the way he had his bow he whispered oh papa fancy being married to Stanley Bernal well she was married to him and what was more she loved him not the Stanley whom everyone saw not the everyday one but a timid sensitive innocent Stanley who knelt down every night to say his prayers and who longed to be good Stanley was simple if he believed in people for instance it was with his whole heart he could not be disloyal he could not tell a lie and how terribly he suffered if he thought anyone she was not being dead straight dead sincere with him this is too subtle for me he flung out the words but his open, quivering, distraught look was like the look of a trapped beast but the trouble was here Linda felt almost inclined to laugh though heaven knows it was no laughing matter she saw her Stanley so seldom there were glimpses moments breathing spaces of calm but all the rest of the time it was like living in a house that couldn't be cured of the habit of catching on fire on a ship that got wrecked every day and it was always Stanley who was in the thick of the danger her whole time was spent in rescuing him and restoring him and calming him down and listening to his story and what was left of her time was spent in the dread of having children Linda frown she sat up quickly in her steamer chair and clasped her ankles yes that was her real grudge against life that was what she could not understand that was the question she asked and asked and listened in vain for the answer it was all very well to say it was the common lot of women to bear children it wasn't true she for one could prove that wrong she was broken, made weak her courage was gone through childbearing and what made it doubly hard to bear was she did not love her children it was useless pretending even if she had had the strength she never would have nursed and played with the little girls you know it was as though a cold breath had chilled her through and through on each of those awful journeys she had no warmth left to give them as to the boy well thank heaven mother had taken him he was mothers or barrels or anybody who wanted him she had hardly held him in her arms she was so indifferent about him that as he lay there Linda glanced down she had turned over he lay facing her and he was no longer asleep his dark blue baby eyes were open he looked as though he was peeping at his mother and suddenly his face dimpled it broke into a wide toothless smile a perfect beam no less I'm here that happy smile seemed to say why don't you like me there was something so quaint so unexpected about that smile that Linda smiled herself but she checked herself and said to the boy coldly I don't like babies don't like babies the boy couldn't believe it don't like me he waved his arms foolishly at his mother Linda dropped off the chair onto the grass why do you keep on smiling she said severely if you knew what I was thinking about Linda's eyes slyly and rolled his head on the pillow he didn't believe a word she said we know all about that smile the boy Linda was so astonished at the confidence of this little creature ah no be sincere that was not what she felt it was something far different it was something so new so the tears danced in her eyes she breathed in a small whisper to the boy hello my funny but by now the boy had forgotten his mother he was serious again something pink, something soft waved in front of him he made a grab at it and it immediately disappeared but when he lay back another like the first appeared this time he determined to catch it he made a tremendous effort and rolled right over end of chapter 6 chapter 7 the tide was out the beach was deserted lazily flopped the warm sea the sun beat down beat down hot and fiery on the fine sand baking the grey and blue and black and white foam pebbles it sucked up the little drop of water that lay in the hollow of the curved shells it bleached the pink convolfulus that threaded through and through the sand hills they seemed to move but the small sand hoppers they were never still over there on the weed hung rocks that looked at low tide like shady beasts coming down to the water to drink the sunlight seemed to spin like a silver coin dropped into each of the small rock pools they danced, they quithered and my new ripples layed the poorer shores looking down, bending over with pink and blue houses clustered on the shores and oh, the vast mountainous country behind those houses the ravines, the passes the dangerous creeks and fearful tracks that lead to the water's edge underneath waved the sea forests pink thread-like trees velvet animals and orange berries spotted weeds now a stone on the bottom moved rocked and there was a glimpse of a black feeler now a thread-like creature wavered by and was lost something was happening to the pink waving trees they were changing to a cold moon-like blue and now they sounded the faintest plot who made that sound? what was going on down there and how strong, how damp the seaweed smelt in the hot sun the green blinds were drawn in the bungalows of the summer colony over the verandahs the paddock flung over the fences there were exhausted-looking bathing dresses and rough striped towels each back window seemed to have a pair of sand shoes on the sill and some lumps of rock or a bucket or a collection of power shells the bush quivered in a haze of heat the sandy road was empty except for the trout's dog, Snooker who lay stretched in the very middle of it his blue eye was turned up his legs stuck out stiffly and he gave an occasional desperate sounding puff as much as to say he had decided to make an end of it and was only waiting for some kind card to come along what are you looking at, my grandma? why do you keep stopping and sort of staring at the wall? because I and her grandmother were taking their siesta together the little girl wearing only her short draws and her underbonness her arms and legs bare lay on one of the puffed up pillows of her grandma's bed and the old woman in a white ruffled dressing gown sat in a rocker at the window with a long piece of pink knitting in her lap this room that they shared like the other rooms of the bungalow was of light furnished wood and the floor was bare the furniture was of the shabbiest the simplest dressing table, for instance was a packing case in a sprig mausoleum petticoat and the mirror above was very strange it was as though a little piece of forked lightning was imprisoned in it on the table they stood a jar of sea pinks pressed so tightly together they looked more like a velvet pin cushion and a special shell which Kazaia had given her grandma for a pin tray and another, even more special which she had thought would make a very nice place for a watch to curl up in tell me grandma, said Kazaia the old woman sigh whipped the wall twice round her finger and drew the bone needle through she was casting on I was thinking of your Uncle William darling, she said quietly my Australian Uncle William said Kazaia she had another the one I never saw that was the one well, what happened to him Kazaia knew perfectly well but she wanted to be told again he went to the mines and he got a sunstroke there and died said old Mrs Fairfield Kazaia blinked and considered the picture again a little man fallen over like a tin soldier by the side of a big black hole does it make you sad Kazaia, she hated her grandma to be sad it was the old woman's turn to consider did it make her sad to look back, back to stare down the years as Kazaia had seen her doing to look after them as the woman does long after they were out of sight did it make her sad no, life was like that no Kazaia she lifted one bare arm and began to draw things in the air why did Uncle William have to die he wasn't old Mrs Fairfield began counting the stitches in threes it just happened she said in an adorable voice does everybody have to die asked Kazaia everybody me, Kazaia sounded fearfully incredulous but grandma Kazaia waved her leg and waggled the toes they felt sandy what if I just won't the old woman sighed again and drew a long thread from the ball we're not asked Kazaia she said sadly it happens to all of us sooner or later Kazaia lay still thinking this over she didn't want to die it meant she would have to leave here everywhere forever her grandma she rolled over quickly grandma she said in a startled voice what my pet you're not to die Kazaia was very decided ah Kazaia her grandma looked up and smiled and shook her head don't let's talk about it but you're not too promise me you won't ever do it grandma pleaded Kazaia the old woman went on knitting promise me say never but still her grandma was silent Kazaia rolled off her bed she couldn't bear it any longer and lightly she leapt onto her grandma's knees clasped her hands around the old woman's throat and began kissing her under the chin behind the ear say never say never she gasped between the kisses and then she began very softly and lightly to tickle her grandma Kazaia the old woman dropped her knitting she swung back in the rocker she began to tickle Kazaia say never say never while they lay there laughing in each other's arms come that's enough my squirrel that's enough my wild pony said old Mrs Fairfield setting her cap straight pick up my knitting both of them had forgotten what the nether was about End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 the sun was still full on the garden when the back door of the burnel shut with a bang and a very gay figure walked down the path to the gate it was Alice the servant girl dressed for her afternoon out she wore a white cotton dress with such large red spots on it and so many that they made her shut her white shoes and a leghorn turned up under the brim with poppies of course she wore gloves white ones stained at the fastenings with iron mould and in one hand she carried a very dashed looking sunshade which she referred to as a perichel in a window fanning her freshly washed hair thought she had never seen such a guy if Alice had only blackened her face with a piece of cork before she started out the picture would have been complete and where did a girl like that go to in a place like this the heart shaped Fijian fan beats mournfully at that lovely bright main she suppose Alice had picked up some horrible common lurrican into the bush together pity to have made herself so conspicuous they'd have hard work to hide with Alice in that rig out but no Beryl was unfair Alice was going to tea with Mrs Stubbs who'd send her an invite by the little boy who called for orders she had taken ever such a liking to Mrs Stubbs ever since the first time she went to the shop to get something for her mosquitoes her heart, Mrs Stubbs had clapped her hands to her side I'd never seen anyone so eaten you might have been attacked by cannonballs Alice did wish there'd been a bit of life on the road though made her feel so queer having nobody behind her made her feel all weak in the spine she couldn't believe that someone wasn't watching her and yet it was silly to turn around it gave you away her gloves hummed to herself and said to the distant gumtree she don't belong now but that was hardly company Mrs Stubbs's shop was perched on a little hillock just off the road it had two big windows for eyes a broad rander for a hat and the sign on the roof scrawled Mrs Stubbs's was like a little card stuck rakishly in the hat crown on the rander there hung a string of bathing dresses clinging together as though they'd just been rescued from the sea rather than waiting to go in and beside them there hung a cluster of sand shoes so extraordinarily mixed that to get at one pair you had to tear apart and forcibly separate at least 50 even then it was the rarest thing to find the left that belonged to the right so many people had lost patience and gone off two that fitted and one that was a little too big Mrs Stubbs prided herself on keeping something of everything the two windows arranged in the form of a precarious pyramid were cramped so tight piled so high that it seemed only a conduro could prevent them from toppling over in the left hand corner of one window glued to the pane by four gelatin lozenges there was nothing from time in Moriola notice lost handsome gold brooch solid gold on or near beach reward offered Alice pressed open the door the bell jangle, the red search curtains parted and Mrs Stubbs appeared with her broad smile and the long bacon knife in her hand she looked like a friendly brigade Alice was welcomed so warmly that she found it quite difficult for her to look like a generous they consisted of persistent little coughs and hems pulls at her gloves tweaks at her skirt and a curious difficulty in seeing what was set before her or understanding what was said tea was laid on the parlor table hand sardines a whole pound of butter and such a large Johnny cake that it looked like an advertisement she called so loudly that it was useless to try to talk above it Alice sat down on the edge of a basket chair while Mrs Stubbs pumped the stove still high suddenly Mrs Stubbs whipped the cushion off a chair and disclosed a large brown paper parcel I just had some new photos taken my dear she shouted cheerfully to Alice tell me what you think of them in a very dainty, refined way Alice wet her finger and put the tissue back from the first one life how many there were there were three dozen at least and she held it up to the light Mrs Stubbs sat in an armchair leaning very much to one side there was a look of mild astonishment on her large face and well there might be so though the armchair stood on a carpet to the left of it miraculously skirting the carpet border there was a dashing waterfall on her right through the grecian pillar with a giant fern tree on either side of it and in the background towered a gourd mountain pale with snow it is a nice style isn't it shouted Mrs Stubbs and Alice had just screamed sweetly when the roaring of the primer stove died down fizzled out, ceased and she said pretty frightening draw up your chair my dear said Mrs Stubbs beginning to pour out yes she said thoughtfully as she handed the tea but I don't care about the size I'm having an enlargement all very well for Christmas cards but I never was the one for small photos myself you get no comfort out of them to say the truth I find them disartening Alice quite saw what she meant that was what my poor dear husband was always saying he couldn't stand anything small gave him the creeps and strange as it may seem my dear here Mrs Stubbs creaked and seemed to expand herself at the memory it was Dropsy that carried him off at the last many of the time they drawn one and a half pints from him at the hospital it seemed like a judgement Alice burned to know exactly what was drawn from him she ventured I suppose it was water that Mrs Stubbs fixed Alice with her eyes and replied meaning it was liquid my dear liquid Alice jumped away from the word like a cat and came back to it nosing and wearing that's him said Mrs Stubbs and she pointed dramatically to the life size head and shoulders of a burly man that made you think of a curl of cold mutting fat just below in silver letters on a red cardboard ground were the words be not afraid it is I it's ever such a fine face said Alice faintly the pale blue bow on the top of Mrs Stubbs' fair frizzy hair quivered she arched her plump neck what a neck she had it was bright pink where it begun and then it changed to warm apricot and that faded to the color of a brown egg and then to deep creamy all the same my dear she said surprisingly freedoms best her soft fat chuckle sounded like a poo freedoms best said Mrs Stubbs again freedom Alice gave a loud silly little titter she felt awkward her mind flew back to her own kitchen ever so queer she wanted to be back and it again End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 a strange company assembled in the Burnell's wash house after tea round the table they sat a bull a rooster a donkey that kept forgetting it was a donkey a sheep and a bee the wash house was the perfect place for such a meeting because they could make as much noise as they liked and nobody ever interrupted it was a small tin shed standing apart from the bungalow against the wall there was a deep trough and in the corner a copper with a basket of clothes pigs on top of it the little window spun over with cobwebs had a piece of a candle and a mousetrap on the dusty sill there were clothes lines crisscrossed overhead and hanging from a pig on the wall a very big a huge rusty horseshoe was in the middle with a form at either side you can't be a bee cause I a bee's not an animal it's an insect oh but I do want to be a bee frightfully well cause I a tiny bee all yellow furry with striped legs she drew her legs up under her and leaned over the table she felt she was a bee an insect must be an animal she said stoutly fish I'm a bull I'm a bull cried Pip and he gave such a tremendous bellow how did he make that noise that lotty looked quite alarmed I'll be a sheep set rags a whole lot of sheep went past this morning how do you know dad heard them bah he sounded like the little lamb that trots behind and seems to wait to be carried cock-a-doodle-doo shrilled Isabelle with her red cheeks and bright eyes like a rooster what'll I be? lotty asked everybody and she sat there smiling waiting for them to decide for her it had to be an easy one be a donkey lotty it was cause I always suggestion he or you can't forget that he or said lotty solemnly when do I have to say it I'll explain I'll explain said the bull all be quiet all listen and he waited for him look here lotty he turned up a card it's got two spots on it see now if you put that card in the middle and somebody else has won with two spots as well you say he or and the card's yours my lotty was round eyed to keep nose silly just for the game see just while we're playing it's very cross with her oh lotty you are a little silly said the proud Brewster lotty looked at both of them then she hung her head I don't want to play she whispered the others glanced at one another like conspirators all of them knew what that meant she would go away and be discovered somewhere standing with her pinny thrown over her head in a corner or against a wall or even behind a chair lotty it's quite easy said Kazia and Isabelle repentant said exactly like a grown up watch me lotty and you'll soon learn cheer up lotty said Pip there I know what I'll do I'll give you the first one it's mine really but I'll give it to you here you are and he slammed the card down in front of lotty lotty revived at that but now she was in another difficulty I haven't got a hand here she said I want one badly too here lotty you can use mine rags dipped into his sailor blouse and brought up a very wet looking one knotted together be very careful he warned her only use the corner don't undo it I've got a little starfish inside I'm going to try and tame oh come on you girls said the bull and mine you're not to look at your cards you've got to keep your hand under the table till I say go smack went the cards around the table they tried with all their might to see but Pip was too quick for them it was very exciting sitting there in the wash house it was all they could do not to burst into a little chorus of animals before Pip had finished dealing now lotty you begin timidly lotty stretched out a hand took the top card off her pack and had a good look at it it was plain she was counting the spots and put it down no lotty you can't do that you mustn't look first you must turn it the other way over but then everybody will see it at the same time as me said lotty the game proceeded move the bull was terrible he charged over the table and seemed to eat the cards up bizz said the bee cockadoodle do Isabel stood up in excitement and moved her elbows like wings Baa little rags put down the king of diamonds and lotty put down the one they called the king of Spain she had hardly any cards left why don't you call out lotty I've forgotten what I am said the donkey woefully well change be a dog instead bow well oh yes that's much easier lotty smiled again but when she and Casire both had one casire waited on purpose the others made signs to lotty and pointed lotty turned very red she looked bewildered and at last she said wait a minute they were in the very thick of it when the bull stopped them holding up his hand what's that noise what do you mean shut up listen they were a mouse still I thought I heard a sort of knocking said the bull what was it like asked the sheep faintly no answer the bee gave a shutter whatever did we shut the door for she said softly oh why why had they shut the door while they were playing the day had faded the gorgeous sunset had blazed and died and now the quick dark came racing over the sea over the sand hills up the paddock you were frightened to look at the corners of the wash house and yet you had to look with all your might and somewhere far away Grandma was lighting a lamp the blinds were being pulled down the kitchen fire leapt in the tins on the mantelpiece it would be awful now said the bull if a spider was to fall from the ceiling onto the table wouldn't it spiders don't fall from ceilings yes they do our men told us she'd seen a spider as big as a saucer with long hairs on it like a gooseberry quickly all the little heads were jerked up all the little bodies drew together pressed together why doesn't somebody come and call us cried the rooster oh those grown ups laughing and snug sitting in the lamp light drinking out of cups they'd forgotten about them no not really forgotten that was what their smile meant they had decided to leave them there all by themselves suddenly Lottie gave such a piercing scream that all of them jumped off the forms all of them screamed too a face a face looking shrieked Lottie it was true it was real pressed against the window with a pale face black eyes and a black beard grandma mother somebody but they had not got to the door tumbling over one another before it opened for Uncle Jonathan he had come to take the little boys home end of chapter 9 chapter 10 he had meant to be there before but in the front garden he had come upon Linda walking up and down the grass stalking to pick off a dead pink or give a top heavy carnation something to lean against all to take a deep breath of something and then walking on again with a little air of remoteness over her white frock she wore a yellow pink fringe shawl from the Chinaman shop hello Jonathan called Linda and Jonathan whipped off his shabby Panama pressed it against his breast dropped on one knee and kissed Linda's hand greeting my fair one greeting my celestial peach blossom boom the bass voice gently where are the other noble dames barrels out playing bridge and mothers giving the boy his bath have you come to borrow something the trouts were forever running out of things and sending across to the burnels at the last moment but Jonathan only answered a little love, a little kindness and he walked by his sister-in-law's side Linda dropped into barrels hammock under the manuka tree and Jonathan stretched himself on the grass beside her pulled along stalk and began chewing it they knew each other well the voices of children cried from the other gardens a fisherman's light cart shook along a sandy road and from far away they heard a dog barking it was muffled as though the dog had its head in a sack if you listen you could just hear the soft swish of the sea at full tide sweeping the pebbles the sun was sinking and so you go back to the office on Monday do you Jonathan asked Linda on Monday the cage door opens on the victim for another 11 months and a week answered Jonathan Linda swung a little it must be awful she said slowly would you have me laugh my fair sister would you have me weep Linda was so accustomed to Jonathan's way of talking that she paid no attention to it I suppose she said vaguely one gets used to it one gets used to anything does one that mmm from underneath the ground I wonder how it's done brooded Jonathan I've never managed it looking at him as he lay there Linda thought again how attractive he was it was strange to think that he was only an ordinary clerk that Stanley earned twice as much money as he what was the matter with Jonathan he had no ambition she suppose that was it and yet one felt he was gifted exceptional a fond of music every spare penny he had went on books he was always full of new ideas schemes plans but nothing came of it all the new fire blazed in Jonathan you almost heard it roaring softly as he explained describe and dilated on the new thing but a moment later it had fallen in and there was nothing but ashes and Jonathan went about with a look like hunger in his black eyes at these times he exaggerated his observed manner of speaking and his son in church he was the leader of the choir with such a fearful dramatic intensity that the meanest him put on an unholy spindle it seems to me just as in the soul just as infernal to have to go to the office on Monday said Jonathan as it always has done and always will do to spend all the best years of one's life sitting on a stool from nine to five scratching in somebody's ledger it's a queer use to make of one's one and only life isn't it or do I fondly dream he rolled over on the grass and looked up at Linda tell me what is the difference between my life and that of an ordinary prisoner the only difference I can see is that I put myself in jail and nobody's ever going to let me out that's more intolerable situation than the other for if I'd been pushed in against my will kicking even once the door was locked or at any rate in five years or so I might have accepted the fact and began to take an interest in the flight of flies or counting the water steps along the passage with particular attention to variations of tread and so on but as it is I'm like an insect that's flown into a room of its own accord I dash against the walls dash against the windows flop against the ceiling do everything on God's earth in fact except fly out again and all the while I'm thinking like that moth or that butterfly or whatever it is the shortness of life the shortness of life and there's this vast dangerous garden waiting out there undiscovered, unexplored but if you feel like that why begun Linda quickly ah cry Jonathan and that ah was somehow almost exultant there you have me why, why indeed there's a maddening mysterious question why don't I fly out again there's the window or the door or whatever it was I came in by it's not hopelessly shut is it why don't I find it and be off answer me that little sister but he gave her no time to answer I'm exactly like that insect again for some reason Jonathan pours between the words it's not allowed it's forbidden it's against the insect lord to stop banging and flopping and crawling up the pain even for an instant why don't I leave the office why don't I seriously consider this moment for instance what it is that prevents me leaving it's not as though I'm tremendously tired of two boys to provide for but after all, they're boys I could cut off to sea or get a job up country or suddenly he smiled at Linda and said in a changed voice as if he were confiding a secret weak, weak no stamina, no anchor no guiding principle let us call it but then the dark velvety voice rolled out would you hear the story how it unfolds itself and they were silent the sun had set in the western sky there were great masses of crushed up rose colored clouds broad beams of light shone through the clouds and beyond them as if they would cover the whole sky overhead the blue faded it turned a pale gold and the bush outlined against it gleamed dark and brilliant like metal sometimes when those beams of light show in the sky they are very awful they remind you that up there sits Jehovah the jealous God the almighty whose eye is upon you ever watchful, never weary you remember that at his coming the whole earth will shape into one ruined graveyard the cold bright angels will drive you this way and that and there will be no time to explain what could be explained so simply but tonight it seemed to Linda there was something infinitely joyful and loving in those silver beams and now no sound came from the sea it breathed softly as if it would draw that tender geogical beauty into its own bosom it's all wrong it's all wrong came the shadowy voice of Jonathan it's not the scene, it's not the setting for three stools three desks, three pots and a wire blind Linda knew that he would never change but she said is it too late even now I'm old, I'm old in tone Jonathan he bent towards her he passed his hand over his head look his black hair was speckled all over with silver like the breast plumage of a black fowl Linda was surprised she had no idea that he was grey and yet as he stood up beside her inside and stretched she saw him for the first time not resolute, not gland, not careless but touched already with age he looked very tall on the darkening grass and the thought crossed her mind that she was like a weed Jonathan stooped again and kissed her fingers heaven reward those sweet patients lady mine, he murmured I must go, seek those heirs to my fame and fortune he was gone End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 light shone in the windows of the bungalow two square patches of gold fell upon the pinks and the peaked merrygolds came out onto the veranda and sat on the top step her white paws close together her tail curled round she looked content as though she had been waiting for this moment all day thank goodness it's getting late said flurry, thank goodness the long day is over her green gauge of eyes opened presently they sound at the rumble of the coach the cracker callies with it came near enough for one to hear the men from town talking loudly together it stopped at the Bernel's gate Stanley was half way up the path before he saw Linda is that you darling yes Stanley, he leapt across the flower bed and seized her in his arms she was enfolded in that familiar eager strong embrace forgive me darling forgive me, stammered Stanley and he put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to him I'll give you, smiled Linda but whatever for good God, you can't have forgotten cried Stanley Bernel I've thought of nothing else all day I've had the hell of a day I made up my mind to dash out and telegraph and then I thought the wire mightn't reach you before I did I've been in torches Linda, but Stanley said Linda, what must I forgive you for Linda Stanley was very hurt did you realise you must have realised I went away without saying goodbye to you this morning I can't imagine how I can have done such a thing my confounded temper of course but well on his side and took her in his arms again I've suffered for it enough today what's that you've got in your hand ask Linda, new gloves let me see just a cheap pair of wash leather ones said Stanley humbly I noticed Belle was wearing some in the coach this morning so as I was passing the shop I dashed in and got myself a pair what are you smiling at you don't think it was wrong with me do you I'm the contrary darling said Linda I think it was most sensible she pulled one of the large pale gloves on her fingers and looked at her hand turning it this way and that she was still smiling Stanley wanted to say to you the whole time I bought them it was true that for some reason he couldn't say it let's go in said he end of chapter 11 chapter 12 why does one feel so different at night why is it so exciting to be awake when everybody else is asleep late it is very late and yet every moment you feel more and more wakeful as though you were slowly almost with every breath waking up into a new wonderful far more thrilling and exciting world than the daylight one and what is this queer sensation that you're a conspirator lightly stealthily you move about your room you take something off the dressing table and put it down again without a sound and everything even the bed post knows you responds shares your secret you're not very fond of your room by day you never think about it you're in and out the doors opens and slams the cupboard creak you sit down on the side of your bed change your shoes and dash out again a dive down to the glass two pins in your hair powder your nose and off again but now it's suddenly dear to you it's a darling little funny room it's yours oh what a joy it is to own things mine my own my very own forever no of course that had nothing to do with it that was all nonsense and rubbish but in spite of herself Ferrell saw so plainly two people standing in the middle of her room her arms were around his neck he held her and now he whispered my beauty my little beauty she jumped off her bed ran over to the window and kneeled on the window seat with her elbows on the sill but the beautiful night every bush, every leaf even the white palings even the stars were conspirators too so bright was the moon that the flowers were bright as by day the shadow of the nasturtiums exquisite lily like leaves and wide open flowers lay across the silvery veranda the manuka tree bent by the southerly winds was like a bird on one leg stretching out a wing but when Ferrell looked at the bush it seemed to her the bush was sad we are dumb trees reaching up in the night imploring we know not what said the sorrowful bush it is true when you are by yourself and you think about life it is always sad all that excitement and so on has a way of suddenly leaving you and it's as though in the silence somebody called your name and you heard your name for the first time Ferrell I'm Ferrell who wants me Ferrell let me come it is lonely living by oneself of course there are relations friends, heaps of them but that's not what she means she wants one who will find the Ferrell they none of them know who will expect her to be that Ferrell always she wants a lover take me away from all these other people my love let us go far away live our life all new all ours from the very beginning let us make our fire let us sit down to eat together let us have long talks at night and the thought was almost save me my love save me oh go on don't be a prude my dear you enjoy yourself while you're young that's my advice and a high rush of silly laughter join Mrs. Harry Kemper's loud you know you see it's so frightfully difficult when you've nobody you're so at the mercy of things you can't just be rude and you've always this horror of seeming inexperienced and stuffy like the other ninnies at the bay and and it's fascinating to know you power over people yes that is fascinating oh why oh why doesn't he come soon if I go on I thought beryl anything may happen to me but how do you know who is coming at all mocked a small voice within her but beryl dismissed it she couldn't be left other people perhaps but not she it wasn't possible to think that beryl fairfield never married that lovely fascinating girl do you remember beryl fairfield remember her as if I could forget her it was one summer at the bay that I saw her she was standing on the beach in a blue no pink muslin frock holding on a big cream no black straw hat but it's years ago now she's as lovely as ever more so if anything beryl smile bit her lip and gazed over the garden as she gazed she saw somebody a man leave the road step along the paddock beside their palings as if he was coming straight towards her her heart beat who was it who could it be it couldn't be a burglar certainly not a burglar but he was smoking and he strolled lightly beryl's heart leapt it seemed to turn right over and then to stop she recognized him good evening miss beryl said the voice softly good evening won't you come for a little walk a draw come for a walk at that time of the night couldn't everybody's in bed everybody's asleep oh said the voice lightly and a whiff of sweet smoke reached her what does everybody matter do come at such a fine night there's not a soul about beryl shook her head but already something stirred in her something reared its head the voice said frightened and mocked poor little girl not in the lease she said as she spoke that weird thing within her seemed to uncoil to grow suddenly tremendously strong she longed to go and just as if this was quite understood by the other the voice said gently and softly but finally come along beryl stepped over her low window crossed the veranda ran down the grass to the gate he was there before her that's right breathed the voice and it teased you're not frightened are you you're not frightened she was now she was here she was terrified and it seemed to her everything was different the moonlight stared and glittered the shadows were like bars of iron her hand was taken not in the lease she said lightly why should I be her hand was pulled gently tugged she held back no I'm not coming any further said beryl harry kemba didn't believe her come along we'll just go as far as that fuchsia bush come along the fuchsia bush was tall it fell over the fence in a shower there was a little pit of darkness beneath no really I don't want to said beryl for a moment harry kemba didn't answer then he came close to her turned to her smiled and said quickly don't be silly don't be silly his smile was something she'd never seen before was he drunk that bright blind terrifying smile froze her with horror what was she doing how had she got here the stern garden asked her as the gate pushed open and quick as a cat harry kemba came through and snatched her to him cold little devil cold little devil said the hateful voice but beryl was strong she slipped duck wrench free bar vile vile said she then why in god's name did you come stem at harry kemba nobody answered him end of chapter 12 chapter 13 a cloud small serene floated across the moon in that moment of darkness the sea sounded deep troubled then the cloud sailed away and the sound of the sea was a vague murmur so it waked out of a dark dream always still end of story