Elsa Goody, Bushranger by Darry Fraser

Author:Darry Fraser
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mira
Published: 2020-05-08T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Nine

Elsa could feel the flutter on her lashes. What was that? She was asleep, wasn’t she? And yet, it was a breath … It was someone, or something was breathing, steady and low. Close to her face.

No light had crept under her eyelids. No sounds had pricked her ears. Frozen in place, not daring to move, she tried desperately to remember where she was. Rosemary. Lavender. Oh yes. Ezekiel Jones’s house.

She made a noise. If it was some animal, a dog perhaps, staring down at her, maybe it would scurry away.

‘Oh good,’ a child’s voice said. ‘Pa said not to wake you, but I brung you some tea.’ It was a lispy whisper. ‘I didn’t wake you, did I? I’ll get in trouble ’cos I’m not allowed to be in here.’

A child’s voice. Elsa cranked open one eye and found she was face-to-face with a young boy whose big brown eyes were studying her. He had a tin cup in one hand, steam was rising from it. ‘No, you didn’t wake me,’ she said, her whisper as quiet as his. The moment her eyes had opened, her foot began to throb.

‘Then you better hurry up and drink the tea. I have to go to school.’ He stayed close, reached out, and stroked her cheek with his other hand. ‘You’re real.’

‘I am real,’ she said and struggled to sit up, tangled as she was in the quilt.

‘Will you be here when we come back from school?’ he asked, still very close to her face.

There was no mistaking whose child this was. He was Ezekiel Jones’s son, that was very clear. The boy was as alike to his father as peas in a pod, right down to the line of his jaw, the colour of his eyes, even the tilt of his head. The resemblance was strong to Nebo Jones, as well, but there was no mistaking whose child he was. But there was another dimension there. Not all Ezekiel. The boy’s mother would have made her mark on him, possibly the deep dimple in one cheek.

The boy’s mother. The female voice she’d heard murmur last night. No doubt Elsa would meet her soon. So better be quick to put those stupid thoughts from last night out of your stupid head. She squeezed her scratchy, dry eyes shut and open again. Barely made any difference.

‘Will you be here?’ he repeated, insistent.

Elsa couldn’t see herself leaving today. ‘Today I should be here. Tomorrow I might have to go.’

‘What’s your name?’ He still whispered and thrust the cup at her.

‘Elsa,’ she said and took the cup before the contents landed in her lap. ‘What’s yours?’

Nose to her nose, ‘Jonty,’ he said.

‘Pleased to meet you, Jonty.’

An older woman peeked around the open door. ‘There you are, Jonty Jones. Did you wake the lady?’

‘He didn’t wake me,’ Elsa said in a rush. Goodness, Mr Jones’s wife looks much older than I expected. She put down the tea and swung her legs off the cot. The throbbing foot didn’t let up.

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