12

now we have all the words. x and i do our exercises together. she is working on super hard spelling. as many ys in syzygy as in twyndyllyng. i have found a book that sometimes has a lovely picture covers one page. i n i f l o r a. i am also trying letters and numbers. 1 + 1 = 1. our little idiot, dad. dont rub so hard youll put a. apparently if i dont get them in order before christmas, zwart piet will me. otherwise i get a kitten.

yes those long summer nights sleeping with cat or monkey are already a memory. the days advance. sometimes cat sometimes monkey depends what side comes up. x also takes me for walks in the park i intuit to be opportunities for escape her iron grip alone is causing me to miss. i would know where to go. the scrub not the dunghills i think. i am not sprung from a rockcleft even. bedroch. she takes me to a place where there are lots of people, the knees of their pants shiny. the smell. mother would say, they have a smell. they are pressing in around the doorway where a poster has been glued up on the wall of atlas on the edge of a cliff. inside there is a marionette the size of a man made of beaten scraps of metal and a boy already as tall as x is waving his hands in front of it. the breast and arms were of silver! his belly and thighs of brass. his legs of iron, his feet part of iron and part of clay. none of the men holding their hats around us spoke. eyes like plates. and a stone descended! an awful cushion whizzed down on a wire and the chord around the metal mans head went slack he crashed to the floor as the brown bundle flew into the wings. someone else. it was a family outfit. applause. they clapped so long x put my bonnet on again and we left. she said it was so i would know how to make the difference later.

no ice cream. but we go to a movie maybe. i like the ones with the show at the beginning. they would go out of fashion pretty soon. i can remember actors with boot polish on their faces come trooping out with a girl in a curly blond wig and a blue sash who falls spread eagle on a spring mattress she am dead! lordy, she am gone tuh heaven! someone two seats down starts making noises in her throat and her friend says put your hanky in your mouth.

walking home along the harbour we pass fewer people like us now the weather has turned but its busy enough half the way along the waterfront and stunning to look at, especially when the wind is up and theres not a soul to be seen you have it all to yourself and the gulls skimming over the gun metal waves and you can pretend. we dont go by mrs macquaries chair anymore since that figure in a ragged coat flapped out of nowhere in front of me and i made quite a scene according to x. they should block up those caves said mr harwood.

listless, i play with the bottles on mothers dressing table. a cretonne frock lying dishevelled on the bed, her necklaces strung over the mirror post. the apartment is very quiet. just the sound of x studying or doing the laundry. nothing from the street but the occasional plea from a passing vendor, charivari for pins and needles. the body is without horizon. o the things you get up to when you are out of your head with boredom. all deeds promiscuously done at all something. pluribus unum. havent caught me yet. incredibly perhaps the vagina strikes me as an optimal hiding place. no. unum. non omnis. o manibus. x has also taken over the greater part of the cooking. i help and so tasted of the ordeal of service. pass me that bowl. take it away. pass me that tellus again. actually you can put whatever you want in the bowl shell only throw it back in your face. with x the mot dordre in the kitchen is go canzicrans. one evening she tells me to help her with the fruit cake but five minutes dont go by before she is chasing me back into the living room her hands covered in flour. blind with fear i slam into the back of mr georges chair and almost lose my raisins.

chew chick!

mr george hollers, which is not exactly out of character. x is standing panting in the doorway brushing off her hands on the apron. quelle deconfiture! mr george eyes her admiringly. she certainly has the air of an ecoliere rolled out of the rue du fouarre plutot quune eleve dhenrietta town. je perds mon italien. and what did you do when you werent reading for the sisters.

i rang the bell.

ill watch her now, thank you, said mother, and x went back to the cake.

mr george winked. a fine. what do you pastors say. uncomeatable i am sure. how is your brother the flying farm mouse. i havent seen him here for weeks.

mothers fingers fell over my hair. well. planning his escape as always.

constance is managing a nest for him in town.

its only necessary. the dear is incapable of giving any amount of attention to that sort of thing. try to figure to yourself by what means the mere idea of upholstery might hope to enter the mind of someone who doesnt think of keeping his feet on the ground longer than the next week.

my wife has the eloquence of firsthand experience. her brother is running up more than one kind of debt.

i dont want you to think hes driving me. hes selfless is the problem. he simply hasnt the presence of mind. hed give it all away had he the slightest usucapionary notion. hell worry my father into his grave.

mr george had been preparing to leave. he has a certain chic, the pilot. i find it in excellent taste. today the aeroplane is the real measure of grandeur. they lift the vanes from the old ships, alors que le leviathan ne peut pas prendre la mer. a man like that will be many things to many people, never you fear. balzac as a child was forbidden to regard himself in the mirror. he kept a dog called mouche. so long in there! i hope you are taking the little one to visit i heard him whisper to mother in the corridor. one must respect that sort of attachment at her age. her playfellow. ah childhood is an anaesthetic. only after comes the pain and the sense of loss. the old story books. when did you first realise the pages were going to yellow in your lifetime. au revoir mr rose.

you are giving him a lot of your time, constance.

its just until he settles. you know hes been so distracted since his project for the americas fell through.

do you believe your parents are genuinely concerned.

hes always been like this, its traditional. you were very good at the glades by the way. dad was certainly trying hard with that stuff about your father.

hm. good thing we dont mix business anymore. bloody broad acres.

you know i saw a lovely living room set in grace brothers. we could do terribly with something a little smarter in here. these armchairs have had their day.

dad put up his hands. why dont you take the girls. your daughter misses you. you are making her jealous.

you mean it, she said, the whole set. i might see about curtains while im at it. and we must start replacing all the things that never arrived.

mother enlists x and i to trawl through the catalogues and the daily advertisements. snows continue to offer scores of remnants in silks. dress goods manchester and furnishing drapery silk remnants, crepe de chines, georgettes, plain and striped fuji, dress goods, checked and striped zephyr, plain and printed voiles, plain and printed marocains, plain toned crepes. a buyer of anything will call anywhere, ladies’ gentlemen’s left off clothing, old gold, artificial teeth, books, etc. write or phone m. morris, 248 elizabeth street, city. a buyer of left off clothing mr and mrs mitchell, 1397 bathurst st, city. reliable purchases, allow extreme value for any description ladies’ and gentlemen’s clothing, linen, furniture, trunks, artificial teeth, ladies changing for mourning, please note. letters, parcels attended. cretonnes and shadow tissues. a model store the house that keeps faith with the public. prices subject to market fluctuations. a harbour view from every window of every flat. three-valve sets, in cabinet, valves, loud speaker, and aerial, complete, £10. your old set as part payment. one goss straight-line two-roll newspaper printing press. please note our new telephone number. tooths tooths k.b. k.b. k.b. k.b. a true larger. a true larger. pigeon hose a modish jumper suit. johnsons wax electric floor polisher. organs need the help of a.m.s. bosistos parrot brand eucalyptus oil. lionel foxley burrows, 37, salesman, pleaded guilty to stealing 592 yards of army duck, 902 yards of sheeting, 220 yards of damask, 360 towels, a pair of blankets, 24 sheets, four suitcases, 40 pairs of riding breeches, 16 coats, 36 tunics, 10 pairs of trousers, and 48 shirts. the crown prayed no judgement. bone lace for a head. book lost, saturday, redfern. black and fawn long haired pom dog lost. reward. brooch, gold bar, opal near end, with chain and pin, lost, thursday. reward. black purse. containing notes and silver. pensioners money. brown pigskin wallet, containing notes, business cards, and private papers. lost. reward given. corella lost. £1 reward. detainers prosecuted. cranking handle. green raffia envelope bag, containing purse, beads, etc. inquiries would be made into the subjects of hydatids, snakebite, and infantile paralysis. said friese greene was at the bottom of it. returned from queensland, predicts a shortage of meat supplies, with consequent high prices. accompanied by hailstones as large as eggs, broke in singleton and goulburn yesterday. clear view screen for ocean liners.

no no no not them. dont know why he keeps them.

the patersons catalogue had a picture on the cover of fairies riding a magic carpet with the paterson store sitting between them. the grace brothers catalogue had coloured photos of the showroom floor. three and a half acres of furniture promised the lift boy, sweeping one hand out of the compartment as he discreetly accepted mothers penny in the other. thank you. she pushed us out before her, straightening her dress. now girls remember what to look for. it was pouring outside but it made the faintest sound inside, like distant drums, and the mere flickering of natural light above the partition walls, like refracted tinsel. mother spotted the furniture set for the living room behind a row of potted ferns and ran to put her name down in case it disappeared while x and i took the stairs to get a head start on the drapery.

it was in the mens department we ran into uncle jim. jim what are you doing here. why a man can look after his own underwear cant he. oh im sorry i didnt realise you were. excuse me, hullo. hullo there you little devil, whats that youve got round your neck. jim was dressed very smartly he was carrying an umbrella with a long amber handle, a whole lot more elegant than the rubber raincoats x and i had on. you know they have a portrait photographer here now, hes upstairs by the hairdresser i think. have you finished. i wouldnt mind a cup of tea, we could get something here.

no jim i. i still have a million things to get. ive just bought that grecian assembly on the first floor to the left as you go out towards bay street. it was the last one. have a look when you go out and tell me what you think. i dont say with your classics. as long as you dont want me to tell you if it matches anything. you will be in this evening wont you. jim nodded but only smiled and raised the umbrella a little as mother herded us through the glass cabinets. she was not the same woman. someone holding me harder. that night she and dad spent a long time shut up in their bedroom. it sounded like they did equal parts talking. x was at the wharf getting something for supper so there was no one around to turn the lights on when the sun went down again to make the keyhole madder and no one to look after me.