Season of Hate by Michael Costello

right.
    "Fratern-ize. F-r-a-t-e-r-n-i-z-e," he spelt out, with that upward finish.
    "But what does it mean?" I asked.
    "I'm not here to give no English lesson. Ask yer gran. Now go and take them preserves with ya."
    "Is it okay if we collect a few of the ones that've fallen on the ground?" asked Doug.
    "Didn't you hear me? There's no mulberries for you lot 'til you come to yer senses. I'm sorry, but we've um had a meetin', and well um, we're not prepared to turn our beautiful town into a Mission, for the likes of that black boy you lot are so keen on and the rest of 'em."
    "You'd like Johnny if you met him. He's really friendly, and …"
    "Pat, I can't stand here all day listenin' … Look um, it was decided at the meetin'. I'm not s'pose to even be talkin' to youse." Mr Elliott seemed a bit rattled. "Oh for goodness sake, stop lookin' at me you two with them big eyes. Go on, ya can fill two buckets, but no more." Doug and I wasted no time picking up the fallen fruit and putting it in the buckets.
    "Not them ones, the better ones from the tree. But be quick about it. I don't want no one seein' me fraternisin'." We filled the buckets. Mr Elliott added a few handfuls to the top. "Now go before anyone sees ya. And um, thank yer gran for the preserves. Much appreciated."
    We raced back to the house without dropping a single berry. Johnny was raking the leaves on our front lawn as we got back.
    "Here Johnny, have some mulberries. There's heaps," I offered.
    "Heaps," Doug restated. Johnny took a few then got back to the raking.
    "What are we gonna tell Nan?" I whispered, as we went up the front steps.
    "She doesn't have to know. It'll only get her upset. We delivered the preserves and got the mulberries – simple."
    Doug was always able to see through a potential problem and find a simple solution. We convinced Nan to let us give the fruit a rinse, so that she wouldn't see the dirtier ones on the bottom – problem solved.
    I looked up Dad's thick dictionary secretly that night, but was none the wiser as to what we did that could have got Mr Elliott so upset. He seemed angry that we were mixing with Johnny. The first meaning of 'fraternize', for they did indeed spell it with an 'ize' back then, indicated that we must have associated in a fraternal or friendly way, which was fair enough. It was the second definition of the word that must have riled Mr Elliott and the people at his meeting – the fact that we 'associated intimately with citizens of an enemy or conquered country'. Johnny wasn't our enemy, and yet I recalled Dad telling us at the Reserve that they were the first inhabitants of this country and that the white man took the land for themselves. Trying to work out what was what confused my young brain, but I kept it there at the back of my mind. We dropped the buckets back over the Elliott's front fence when Mr Elliott wasn't about.
    Nan made three thick mulberry pies and still had fruit left over for jam. While Doug went off to Barry's place to play, Nan gave me one of the pies covered in a tea towel to take next door for Miss Bridget and Miss Kitty. I went the right way around this time, through their front gate and not the swinging palings. I banged on the front screen door and waited. Miss Bridget was off cleaning for the Patterson's still, so Miss Kitty came up the hallway.
    "It's me Miss Kitty, Pat. Nan baked this mulberry pie for you."
    "Oh isn't that nice of her. Please come in." I hesitated a bit, but as she held the screen door back, I looked at her smiling face and continued. Her hair was pulled tightly back off her face and pinned in a bun at the nape of her neck.
    I placed the pie on the kitchen table then she removed and folded up the tea towel for me to return.
    "Oh my, isn't it a beauty? Please, take a seat. Would you like some homemade ginger beer? My father's recipe." I agreed with a nod. On the table was a plate of veal and the ingredients to crumb it. I looked around the kitchen. The higher kitchen