Read Online Currawalli Street by Christopher Morgan - Free Book Online

drops down next to her. Rose smiles at her. The clump she is holding breaks up under her thumb and leaves a large red worm lying on her palm, exposed and wriggling. She puts it back on the ground and covers it over with the dirt.
    Her daughter, Elizabeth, has never shown any interest in her garden. Rose knows that Elizabeth can live easily without Alfred and Rose but they can’t live without their daughter. And now that Elizabeth has fallen in love with a man up north, Rose also knows there is a chance that once she has returned from this trip she may not stay for long. All Rose can do about it is dig her garden and grow her flowers, so she works at the dirt with the fork, turning over each clump, working her way along the bed.
    â€˜Hello!’
    Kathleen and Rose know without looking that it is the reverend’s sister. Her voice is husky, with a night-time echo, and it makes Kathleen think of someone talking through a curl of perfumed smoke. When they turn they see her looking down at them from the fence.
    Rose invites her into the garden; as always, Janet walks with more confidence than she rightly should for a spinster in her twenties, looking after her reverend brother. Her auburn hair is set as if she is about to leave for the races; a Chinese shell pin holds a sweep of curls in place. Her dress makes her look broader in the shoulders than she really is and has the effect of highlighting her long and elegant neck. Her soft Italian shoes have clearly never been near freshly turned soil before; they were made more for dancing than walking. She steps onto the stone path and stands between the two married women, who are still on their knees. Looking at the foxgloves, she tells Rose that they are too good to pick. Then she bends and picks one.
    Kathleen stands up, dusting her knees; as she helps Rose to her feet, she asks after the reverend. Janet waves her hand as if she is dismissing the question and says that Thomas is always fine. Then she adds that he is relentless like a machine. Neither Kathleen nor Rose know what she might mean by this and their faces betray their confusion.
    Janet smiles to herself.
    Rose steals a look at Kathleen as Janet tries to explain. ‘It’s as if he turns it on at the start of the day and then turns it off at the end of the day. Like a machine.’
    â€˜Oh, I understand. Turns what on?’ Rose asks.
    â€˜His faith.’
    â€˜Ah,’ Kathleen and Rose say at the same time. Janet turns away from the two women for a moment to look down the street. They wander away from the foxgloves to the apricot tree. Janet mentions that she saw Johnny riding out of the street this morning, looking as if he was going on a long trip.
    â€˜Yes. I was just about to talk to Kathleen about it,’ says Rose. ‘He has gone on behalf of Alfred to find his wagons and see if they need any help.’
    Janet looks at her. ‘Alfred is still sick?’
    â€˜Yes. I think he’s worried that Elizabeth is not back by now. Not that he says anything. And you know how men get. Like a machine.’ The other two laugh.
    If ever there was a time for Rose to openly talk about her marriage, this would be that time. But she is not going to. She doesn’t even consider it, although she has spoken of it in her head plenty of times.
    At first, Alfred never worried about anything. He was so happy and content and always had fresh ideas in his head. Then about ten years ago he started to brood and mope around the house. He wouldn’t say what was wrong and he hasn’t offered any explanation since. Some men are good at hiding what they are thinking about. Some, like Alfred, aren’t.
    And marriages don’t need physical distance to separate. The house and the necessities that come with it may be shared but interests can go in opposite directions. More often than not these separations aren’t sudden; they grow and grow over the years as more things fall into the tiny