Within the dunes, the scent of salt and the only peppermint leaves of our country, there you can sleep. You hear the many heartbeats among the rippling grasses, the many whispering voices, and your own is somewhere among them.
Harriette’s camp.
‘Oh, people pass through you know, sometimes.’
And, ‘If you would be quiet and stay still enough, relax, they are still here you know.’
Jack wasn’t so sure.
‘Topsy,’ said Harriette, ‘should be with us here now. All of us should be, even that Ern if he could remember who he is, who we are.’
They lived easily. Jack loaded the old cart with rabbits, swapped things, sold skins and carcasses where he could. Harriette might go into Gebalup on the horse. She tied it up and walked through neglected streets. The wind skipped and spun on vacant blocks, slapped at the houses shedding iron warping boards. Some of the buildings leaned, and fell to the ground very slowly, one corner at a time, as if dropping to their knees first.