The Dressmaker: A Novel by Rosalie Ham

Author:Rosalie Ham [Ham, Rosalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2015-08-11T04:00:00+00:00

Beyond Windswept Crest the neat, cut stubble stretched to the horizon, like a new coir mat. On the Beaumont property, cattle stood stomach-deep in the low, grey stubble, which was the remains of last season’s crop. There was a green oasis that was the homestead, surrounded by gums, its roof red against the bright sky. Parked cars glittered in the sun and small striped marquees stood in front of the green island. In one paddock a horse skipped stiffly around at the end of a rope held by a small figure in a red coat – Lesley demonstrating dressage. People stood about on the mowed paddock that fell away to the Dungatar creek, which was lined with grey drowned gums. William was explaining to Bobby and Reg the new developments. ‘We had Ed McSwiney build a new yard and stables for the equestrian. The tennis court is under renovation and we’ve a new irrigation system dug for the gardens, the poultry and so on – and of course you’re all here to try out the new croquet lawn and I believe Mother is going to announce a new project when she awards the various prizes for the cakes . . .’ The smile fell from William’s face and his voice trailed away, ‘. . . and I have plans for the agricultural side of things, when I get the machinery . . .’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered away.

Scotty Pullit said, ‘That’s why we’re here, to pay for it all.’

‘Nice lawn,’ said Bobby. The footballers looked at the croquet field and smiled.

Muriel passed along the stalls collecting the profits, bundling them into a brown paper bag. She limped over to Trudy with her canvas stool beneath her arm. She unfolded it, kicked off her dusty white sandals and plopped down beside her daughter, who lay in her deckchair on the homestead veranda. Trudy looked about her nervously. Lipstick sat on the ends of each hair of Muriel’s pale moustache, like tiny redhead matches. She needed a tint and a perm and her feet were dry and cracked, like big long warts.

‘I have some new relatives here today, from Toorak,’ said Gertrude.

‘Elsbeth’s cousin Una?’ said Muriel.

‘You didn’t introduce yourself!’

‘We actually met a long time ago, Gert –’

‘Trudy, my name is Trudy I keep telling you.’

‘They don’t live in Toorak, they live next door – Prahran.’ Muriel stood abruptly, took up her stool and tossed the paper bag onto Trudy’s lap. ‘I ought to know, I’m South Yarra born and bred.’ Muriel limped away with her sandals swinging in her hand and her skirt stuck between her buttocks. She watched the ground pass between her feet. ‘My own daughter has turned into the sort of person I moved here to avoid.’

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