Read Online Mahalia by Joanne Horniman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Joanne Horniman
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took Mahalia to visit Otis. He really wanted Charmian to fuss over Mahalia for a while, and look after her for him, and she did.
âHowâs my baby girl?â said Charmian. âNot feelinâ too well, eh?â She rubbed Mahaliaâs chest with baby eucalyptus rub that she kept for her grandchildren. Mahaliaâs grizzles subsided; she arched her back and stuck her tummy out, squirming with pleasure as Charmianâs plump hands continued to massage her chest.
âYour Auntie Charmianâll make you better.â
Otis tossed a cap onto his head and grinned at Matt. He squinted into the mirror in the hallway and changed the angle of it, flashing his eyes at his own reflection. Otis had thinned down lately; he went running with his father and rode his bike around just for the exercise. There were hollows in his cheeks that hadnât been there before.
âYouâre starting to look sharp,â said Matt. âYou after someone or something?â
âLetâs go for a walk,â said Otis, giving Matt a smile that told him he wasnât going to let on. âWonât be long, Auntie!â he called, and they let themselves out the front door.
âMy life is shit at the moment,â said Matt. âEver since Emmy left . . .â He shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing his jeans werenât stiff with grime. I have to go to the laundromat, have to get things together, have to stop wasting my time, get a job, write to Emmy; got to make it all WORK !
The night dog, Voucher, came along the street and ran up to Matt, tail wagging. âHey,â laughed Otis. âThis dog knows you! Where you live, eh, where you live?â he asked the dog. Otis had a way with dogs; he swore they talked to him.
Elizaâs ad for the room had said friendly household . And Eliza was friendly. She picked Mahalia up and crooned to her, and told Matt to help himself from the veggie garden that sheâd also mentioned in the ad.
The veggie garden was a raised bed in the middle of a concrete space at the back of the building, and contained mostly herbs, plus a few frilly lettuces and a single tomato plant.
After a long day at the Con, Eliza dumped her bag on the kitchen table and waltzed on her bare feet out to her plot, where she squatted and weeded and watered until dark. She had a compost heap in the corner that she cared for as tenderly as the garden itself.
But, friendly as she was, Eliza wasnât often at home. Matt felt at times that he and Mahalia inhabited the entire dark building on their own. The shadows sometimes spooked him. It was tedious looking after a baby, and he thought of Emmy, often. He thought of her mouth as it was when he first met her: generous and smiling. He refused images of her as she had become after Mahalia was born, when her forehead creased into a frown and she didnât smile much at all. But memories were relentless, and sometimes he just had to get out of the house, so he walked, not really caring where. The movement made him feel better.
One day, late in the afternoon, he found himself at the place where Eliza was a student. It was a former high school in the centre of town, two tall ramshackle brick buildings in an asphalt car park. Fig trees and camphor laurels provided shelter, so Matt sat on a seat underneath them. Graffiti on a wall of the building asked the passer-by to SUBVERT THE DOMINANT PARADIGM. It also said EJACAYSHUN FOR ALL, NOT JUST THE RICHÃ, and WHY SO MANY POOR? Mahalia chewed on her fist and grizzled; she was getting her top front teeth.
Young people dressed in glitzy ragbag clothes, clothes like Elizaâs, greeted each other and bounded up and down the stairs. With their coloured hair and jewellery they made Matt feel dun-coloured. They were as casual as birds, but they had purpose.
Crows gathered in the fig trees and squabbled, dropping fruits to the ground. Their voices were harsh and lonely. Matt looked up to the
âHowâs my baby girl?â said Charmian. âNot feelinâ too well, eh?â She rubbed Mahaliaâs chest with baby eucalyptus rub that she kept for her grandchildren. Mahaliaâs grizzles subsided; she arched her back and stuck her tummy out, squirming with pleasure as Charmianâs plump hands continued to massage her chest.
âYour Auntie Charmianâll make you better.â
Otis tossed a cap onto his head and grinned at Matt. He squinted into the mirror in the hallway and changed the angle of it, flashing his eyes at his own reflection. Otis had thinned down lately; he went running with his father and rode his bike around just for the exercise. There were hollows in his cheeks that hadnât been there before.
âYouâre starting to look sharp,â said Matt. âYou after someone or something?â
âLetâs go for a walk,â said Otis, giving Matt a smile that told him he wasnât going to let on. âWonât be long, Auntie!â he called, and they let themselves out the front door.
âMy life is shit at the moment,â said Matt. âEver since Emmy left . . .â He shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing his jeans werenât stiff with grime. I have to go to the laundromat, have to get things together, have to stop wasting my time, get a job, write to Emmy; got to make it all WORK !
The night dog, Voucher, came along the street and ran up to Matt, tail wagging. âHey,â laughed Otis. âThis dog knows you! Where you live, eh, where you live?â he asked the dog. Otis had a way with dogs; he swore they talked to him.
Elizaâs ad for the room had said friendly household . And Eliza was friendly. She picked Mahalia up and crooned to her, and told Matt to help himself from the veggie garden that sheâd also mentioned in the ad.
The veggie garden was a raised bed in the middle of a concrete space at the back of the building, and contained mostly herbs, plus a few frilly lettuces and a single tomato plant.
After a long day at the Con, Eliza dumped her bag on the kitchen table and waltzed on her bare feet out to her plot, where she squatted and weeded and watered until dark. She had a compost heap in the corner that she cared for as tenderly as the garden itself.
But, friendly as she was, Eliza wasnât often at home. Matt felt at times that he and Mahalia inhabited the entire dark building on their own. The shadows sometimes spooked him. It was tedious looking after a baby, and he thought of Emmy, often. He thought of her mouth as it was when he first met her: generous and smiling. He refused images of her as she had become after Mahalia was born, when her forehead creased into a frown and she didnât smile much at all. But memories were relentless, and sometimes he just had to get out of the house, so he walked, not really caring where. The movement made him feel better.
One day, late in the afternoon, he found himself at the place where Eliza was a student. It was a former high school in the centre of town, two tall ramshackle brick buildings in an asphalt car park. Fig trees and camphor laurels provided shelter, so Matt sat on a seat underneath them. Graffiti on a wall of the building asked the passer-by to SUBVERT THE DOMINANT PARADIGM. It also said EJACAYSHUN FOR ALL, NOT JUST THE RICHÃ, and WHY SO MANY POOR? Mahalia chewed on her fist and grizzled; she was getting her top front teeth.
Young people dressed in glitzy ragbag clothes, clothes like Elizaâs, greeted each other and bounded up and down the stairs. With their coloured hair and jewellery they made Matt feel dun-coloured. They were as casual as birds, but they had purpose.
Crows gathered in the fig trees and squabbled, dropping fruits to the ground. Their voices were harsh and lonely. Matt looked up to the
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