Listen. The Skeleton Woman is restless. Her bony feet are tapping on the earth. Secrets are about to be revealed. The Skeleton Woman is the keeper of secrets. Some are kept for an hour or so, a couple of days perhaps, weeks, others are kept for years and years before she decides their time has come. Revelations come by whichever means appeals to her. Tappitty tap. Out of a clear blue sky the voice of a dead woman is heard. Now we know what really happened to the man who betrayed her, the mystery of the separated children is unravelled. Tappitty tap. The little man shivers inside as he hears the sound of the Skeleton Woman tap-dancing. As it becomes louder he hears her tell the world what he did. Tappitty tap. That child, older now, says I was lying, I was lying, I can't stand it any longer, I was lying. And those who believed the woman was guilty have to face the ugliness of their own eagerness to believe the worst simply because she was different. Tappitty tap. The skeleton of a man is discovered beneath some pipes where no one thought to look. Tappitty tap. Sometimes it seems that the bigger the secret the longer the Skeleton Woman keeps it hidden. The decision about timing is always hers. And that's her biggest secret of all. She never lets on when your secret will fly. You'll never know until you hear that sound. Tappitty tap ... tappitty tap.

From a reading by Ada Anthony of Peter Paul Pearl's novel, The Man Who Loved Rain.
Dowse Art Museum, Lower Hutt,
March 1990.