feel at once too constricting and too empty. The light on the answering machine would blink insistently at her. Her parents could even ring again, and she mightnât be able to resist answering.
An Indian family â people of all ages, including a couple of toddlers â came into the park and spread out picnic rugs. They carried several pots wrapped in teatowels, and picnic baskets. The oldest woman unwrapped the pots and ladled rice and curry onto plates. Another poured steaming tea from a thermos and handed the cups round. The children were given soft drink. The men sat to one side of the picnic rugs and talked and smoked.
Then they ate, laughing and talking all the while, and the toddlers staggered about and collapsed onto their bottoms on the ground when their legs gave way. Whenever one came within their orbit, one or other of the women would press rice into its willing mouth with her fingers.
Emily saw a single figure enter the path at the far side of the park. She knew from the rangy look of him, the bare feet and the matted hair, that it was the lonely boy whose eyes Martin had noticed were so blue. He walked along the path until he came level with the Indian family, stopped and stared at them for a moment, and then walked on with his steady, purposeless trudge. The family did not notice him (as indeed they had not noticed Emily), and Emily wondered if the lonely boy had been there at all, or if sheâd imagined it. And she wondered if she was there either, she seemed so nebulous, the world swirling around her as if nothing existed at all, least of all Emily herself.
11
The caravan where theyâd lived was high in the hills, and had views of the surrounding countryside; it was like living in an eagleâs nest.
There they had lived in a sort of idyllic dream â had cooked outside on a campfire, and lain under the stars at night when the van became too hot. When Emily and the baby came out of hospital they returned there â both insisted on it, though Mattâs mother had wanted them to come and stay with her for a while.
The place, which to Emily had previously felt like paradise, was now too bleak and uncomfortable. They shared a bath with Kevin, the man who owned the property â it was an old enamel tub in the open, attached to the back of his house. Nappies had to be washed by hand in Kevinâs laundry tub, also in the open air. Everything was a struggle. Emily felt that they were too exposed to the elements. The sun was too hot and relentless, the wind too windy, the nights black.
Matt had been eager to do as much as he could to help. He did all the washing and cooking. He woke the moment the baby cried at night, and gave her to Emily to feed. But she found breastfeeding difficult. The baby hunted for the nipple so frantically, moving her head rapidly from side to side, it was as though she was really fighting to get away from it. And then sheâd cry, and Emily would cry. By the time the baby managed to latch on to feed they were both exhausted.
They spent a week living in the van. In that time, Emily felt that they were isolated and alone. Perched up there above the world didnât feel like paradise. It felt like exile. She was alone with the baby in a hostile, unforgiving world.
It had been a relief to stay with Mattâs mother. Julie had come to visit, saw at once how impossible it was with a baby, and insisted they come to live with her.
Her place was on the side of a mountain covered with rainforest; the only sounds were the cries of whipbirds, or the soft booming coo of native pigeons.
They had a whole huge bedroom and the use of the rest of the house. There was a washing machine and a proper kitchen; things that Emily had once taken for granted. When sheâd first met Matt, sheâd thought the place where he lived was strange after the suburban brick house sheâd been raised in, because it had been built out of second-hand materials, but it
An Indian family â people of all ages, including a couple of toddlers â came into the park and spread out picnic rugs. They carried several pots wrapped in teatowels, and picnic baskets. The oldest woman unwrapped the pots and ladled rice and curry onto plates. Another poured steaming tea from a thermos and handed the cups round. The children were given soft drink. The men sat to one side of the picnic rugs and talked and smoked.
Then they ate, laughing and talking all the while, and the toddlers staggered about and collapsed onto their bottoms on the ground when their legs gave way. Whenever one came within their orbit, one or other of the women would press rice into its willing mouth with her fingers.
Emily saw a single figure enter the path at the far side of the park. She knew from the rangy look of him, the bare feet and the matted hair, that it was the lonely boy whose eyes Martin had noticed were so blue. He walked along the path until he came level with the Indian family, stopped and stared at them for a moment, and then walked on with his steady, purposeless trudge. The family did not notice him (as indeed they had not noticed Emily), and Emily wondered if the lonely boy had been there at all, or if sheâd imagined it. And she wondered if she was there either, she seemed so nebulous, the world swirling around her as if nothing existed at all, least of all Emily herself.
11
The caravan where theyâd lived was high in the hills, and had views of the surrounding countryside; it was like living in an eagleâs nest.
There they had lived in a sort of idyllic dream â had cooked outside on a campfire, and lain under the stars at night when the van became too hot. When Emily and the baby came out of hospital they returned there â both insisted on it, though Mattâs mother had wanted them to come and stay with her for a while.
The place, which to Emily had previously felt like paradise, was now too bleak and uncomfortable. They shared a bath with Kevin, the man who owned the property â it was an old enamel tub in the open, attached to the back of his house. Nappies had to be washed by hand in Kevinâs laundry tub, also in the open air. Everything was a struggle. Emily felt that they were too exposed to the elements. The sun was too hot and relentless, the wind too windy, the nights black.
Matt had been eager to do as much as he could to help. He did all the washing and cooking. He woke the moment the baby cried at night, and gave her to Emily to feed. But she found breastfeeding difficult. The baby hunted for the nipple so frantically, moving her head rapidly from side to side, it was as though she was really fighting to get away from it. And then sheâd cry, and Emily would cry. By the time the baby managed to latch on to feed they were both exhausted.
They spent a week living in the van. In that time, Emily felt that they were isolated and alone. Perched up there above the world didnât feel like paradise. It felt like exile. She was alone with the baby in a hostile, unforgiving world.
It had been a relief to stay with Mattâs mother. Julie had come to visit, saw at once how impossible it was with a baby, and insisted they come to live with her.
Her place was on the side of a mountain covered with rainforest; the only sounds were the cries of whipbirds, or the soft booming coo of native pigeons.
They had a whole huge bedroom and the use of the rest of the house. There was a washing machine and a proper kitchen; things that Emily had once taken for granted. When sheâd first met Matt, sheâd thought the place where he lived was strange after the suburban brick house sheâd been raised in, because it had been built out of second-hand materials, but it
Similar Books
