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- Колин Маккалоу
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The
words
were
matter-of-fact
rather
than
comforting
.
Meggie
nodded
,
smiling
uncertainly
;
sometimes
she
wanted
so
badly
to
hear
her
mother
laugh
,
but
her
mother
never
did
.
She
sensed
that
they
shared
a
special
something
not
common
to
Daddy
and
the
boys
,
but
there
was
no
reaching
beyond
that
rigid
back
,
those
never
still
feet
.
Mum
would
nod
absently
and
flip
her
voluminous
skirts
expertly
from
stove
to
table
as
she
continued
working
,
working
,
working
.
What
none
of
the
children
save
Frank
could
realize
was
that
Fee
was
permanently
,
incurably
tired
.
There
was
so
much
to
be
done
,
hardly
any
money
to
do
it
with
,
not
enough
time
,
and
only
one
pair
of
hands
.
She
longed
for
the
day
when
Meggie
would
be
old
enough
to
help
;
already
the
child
did
simple
tasks
,
but
at
barely
four
years
of
age
it
could
n't
possibly
lighten
the
load
.
Six
children
,
and
only
one
of
them
,
the
youngest
at
that
,
a
girl
.
All
her
acquaintances
were
simultaneously
sympathetic
and
envious
,
but
that
did
n't
get
the
work
done
.
Her
sewing
basket
had
a
mountain
of
socks
in
it
still
undarned
,
her
knitting
needles
held
yet
another
sock
,
and
there
was
Hughie
growing
out
of
his
sweaters
and
Jack
not
ready
to
hand
his
down
.
*
*
*
Padraic
Cleary
was
to
home
the
week
of
Meggie
's
birthday
,
purely
by
chance
.
It
was
too
early
for
the
shearing
season
,
and
he
had
work
locally
,
plowing
and
planting
.
By
profession
he
was
a
shearer
of
sheep
,
a
seasonal
occupation
which
lasted
from
the
middle
of
summer
to
the
end
of
winter
,
after
which
came
lambing
.
Usually
he
managed
to
find
plenty
of
work
to
tide
him
over
spring
and
the
first
month
of
summer
;
helping
with
lambing
,
plowing
,
or
spelling
a
local
dairy
farmer
from
his
endless
twice-a-day
milking
.
Where
there
was
work
he
went
,
leaving
his
family
in
the
big
old
house
to
fend
for
themselves
;
not
as
harsh
an
action
as
it
seemed
.
Unless
one
was
lucky
enough
to
own
land
,
that
was
what
one
had
to
do
.
When
he
came
in
a
little
after
sunset
the
lamps
were
lit
,
and
shadows
played
flickering
games
around
the
high
ceiling
.
The
boys
were
clustered
on
the
back
veranda
playing
with
a
frog
,
except
for
Frank
;
Padraic
knew
where
he
was
,
because
he
could
hear
the
steady
clocking
of
an
axe
from
the
direction
of
the
woodheap
.
He
paused
on
the
veranda
only
long
enough
to
plant
a
kick
on
Jack
's
backside
and
clip
Bob
's
ear
.
"
Go
and
help
Frank
with
the
wood
,
you
lazy
little
scamps
.
And
it
had
better
be
done
before
Mum
has
tea
on
the
table
,
or
there
'll
be
skin
and
hair
flying
.
"
He
nodded
to
Fiona
,
busy
at
the
stove
;
he
did
not
kiss
or
embrace
her
,
for
he
regarded
displays
of
affection
between
husband
and
wife
as
something
suitable
only
for
the
bedroom
.
As
he
used
the
jack
to
haul
off
his
mud-caked
boots
,
Meggie
came
skipping
with
his
slippers
,
and
he
grinned
down
at
the
little
girl
with
the
curious
sense
of
wonder
he
always
knew
at
sight
of
her
.
She
was
so
pretty
,
such
beautiful
hair
;
he
picked
up
a
curl
and
pulled
it
out
straight
,
then
let
it
go
,
just
to
see
it
jiggle
and
bounce
as
it
settled
back
into
place
.
Picking
the
child
up
,
he
went
to
sit
in
the
only
comfortable
chair
the
kitchen
possessed
,
a
Windsor
chair
with
a
cushion
tied
to
its
seat
,
drawn
close
to
the
fire
.
Sighing
softly
,
he
sat
down
in
it
and
pulled
out
his
pipe
,
carelessly
tapping
out
the
spent
dottle
of
tobacco
in
its
bowl
onto
the
floor
.
Meggie
cuddled
down
on
his
lap
and
wound
her
arms
about
his
neck
,
her
cool
little
face
turned
up
to
his
as
she
played
her
nightly
game
of
watching
the
light
filter
through
his
short
stubble
of
golden
beard
.
"
How
are
you
,
Fee
?
"
Padraic
Cleary
asked
his
wife
.
"
All
right
,
Paddy
.
Did
you
get
the
lower
paddock
done
today
?
"
