it.â
âItâll be alright.â
âDonât be silly.â
Dorothea took her arm and laid it on the table. Maryâs wrist was hot. She dipped a rag in hot water and bathed the sore, wiping away the yellow crust. Mary winced. Dorothea shook her head. Neither of them noticed Mooney. When Mary looked up she saw her staring at her hand. Their eyes met and Mooney backed away. Dorothea smelt her musky campfire smell and turned around, noticing briefly the brownish mud in her hair and the chalky markings on the back of her arms and legs. She kept cleaning Maryâs hand.
Then Mooney returned from the fire and held out her hand. In the middle of her palm was a grey greasy substance. She gestured with her other hand.
âSheâs saying rub it on,â said Dorothea.
Mary pulled her arm away and glared at Mooney who quickly cast her eyes to the floor and backed away. Dorothea stared after her.
âYou should try it.â
âWhat?â
âWell it could work. They must have their own remedies. How do they survive in the bush?â
âThey donât. Theyâre dying all the time.â
But Dorothea had got up from the table and was standing over Mooney, watching her rub the salve into her own skin.
âA little bit,â she said, holding her thumb and forefinger together.
Mooney froze for a moment and then held out her finger. Dorothea scraped some of it from her skin and returned to her seat at the table. She put her finger under her nose. It smelt of smoke and animal fat.
âI ainât having it,â said Mary shaking her head. She held her hands out in front of her as though to push Dorothea away.
âJust try it.â
âI donât need to.â Mary stood up, moving out from behind the table. âAnd I donât need you always telling me what to do!â
Dorothea stared after her. She was surprised for she hadnât heard Mary speak like that for a long time. She was pleased in a way for it showed she cared about something. But there was something else in her voice beside the frustration that Dorothea knew they both felt. It was hostility. Was it towards her? The sun cast rectangular light on the floor and lit bits of fluff in the air as they floated, some gently downwards, others spiralling dramatically. She turned away, her eyes now unaccustomed to the gloom. Mooney had become a formless shape by the fire.
Jansenâs bulk filled the doorway, his two men behind him. They scraped the dirt with their feet and roughly pushed the chairs away from the table. She knew he wouldnât have entered had Anderson been there. She ignored them.
âMake us a tea, my lovely.â
The other two smiled sickly. From the corner of her eye she noticed Mooney slip outside.
âGet it yourself ⦠Anyway, what are you doing here? If Anderson sees you, heâll have you.â
Jansen moved his thick forearm across the table, sliding it back and forth.
âAye. He wonât be back for a while and we got important things to discuss.â
Dorothea raised her eyebrows.
âSo ⦠get us a cup of tea.â
She got up from the table and poured tea into three cups.
âSo what are you up to then?â
Jansen looked across the table at the other two men.
âPerfect weather for sailing.â
âThereâs no wind,â said Dorothea as she pushed a cup towards him.
âAye âtis changing ⦠itâll be from the east by morning.â
His face was raw and his lower lip black from bleeding blisters. He brought the tea up to his mouth but before he swallowed he cleared his throat and spat sideways onto the floor. Light shone through the gaps in the wall and striped their faces. They drained the contents of their cups. Black creased knuckles, yellowed and broken nails.
âAre you leaving?â she asked.
He studied her and wiped the whiskers above his mouth with his hand. She thought there had probably
âItâll be alright.â
âDonât be silly.â
Dorothea took her arm and laid it on the table. Maryâs wrist was hot. She dipped a rag in hot water and bathed the sore, wiping away the yellow crust. Mary winced. Dorothea shook her head. Neither of them noticed Mooney. When Mary looked up she saw her staring at her hand. Their eyes met and Mooney backed away. Dorothea smelt her musky campfire smell and turned around, noticing briefly the brownish mud in her hair and the chalky markings on the back of her arms and legs. She kept cleaning Maryâs hand.
Then Mooney returned from the fire and held out her hand. In the middle of her palm was a grey greasy substance. She gestured with her other hand.
âSheâs saying rub it on,â said Dorothea.
Mary pulled her arm away and glared at Mooney who quickly cast her eyes to the floor and backed away. Dorothea stared after her.
âYou should try it.â
âWhat?â
âWell it could work. They must have their own remedies. How do they survive in the bush?â
âThey donât. Theyâre dying all the time.â
But Dorothea had got up from the table and was standing over Mooney, watching her rub the salve into her own skin.
âA little bit,â she said, holding her thumb and forefinger together.
Mooney froze for a moment and then held out her finger. Dorothea scraped some of it from her skin and returned to her seat at the table. She put her finger under her nose. It smelt of smoke and animal fat.
âI ainât having it,â said Mary shaking her head. She held her hands out in front of her as though to push Dorothea away.
âJust try it.â
âI donât need to.â Mary stood up, moving out from behind the table. âAnd I donât need you always telling me what to do!â
Dorothea stared after her. She was surprised for she hadnât heard Mary speak like that for a long time. She was pleased in a way for it showed she cared about something. But there was something else in her voice beside the frustration that Dorothea knew they both felt. It was hostility. Was it towards her? The sun cast rectangular light on the floor and lit bits of fluff in the air as they floated, some gently downwards, others spiralling dramatically. She turned away, her eyes now unaccustomed to the gloom. Mooney had become a formless shape by the fire.
Jansenâs bulk filled the doorway, his two men behind him. They scraped the dirt with their feet and roughly pushed the chairs away from the table. She knew he wouldnât have entered had Anderson been there. She ignored them.
âMake us a tea, my lovely.â
The other two smiled sickly. From the corner of her eye she noticed Mooney slip outside.
âGet it yourself ⦠Anyway, what are you doing here? If Anderson sees you, heâll have you.â
Jansen moved his thick forearm across the table, sliding it back and forth.
âAye. He wonât be back for a while and we got important things to discuss.â
Dorothea raised her eyebrows.
âSo ⦠get us a cup of tea.â
She got up from the table and poured tea into three cups.
âSo what are you up to then?â
Jansen looked across the table at the other two men.
âPerfect weather for sailing.â
âThereâs no wind,â said Dorothea as she pushed a cup towards him.
âAye âtis changing ⦠itâll be from the east by morning.â
His face was raw and his lower lip black from bleeding blisters. He brought the tea up to his mouth but before he swallowed he cleared his throat and spat sideways onto the floor. Light shone through the gaps in the wall and striped their faces. They drained the contents of their cups. Black creased knuckles, yellowed and broken nails.
âAre you leaving?â she asked.
He studied her and wiped the whiskers above his mouth with his hand. She thought there had probably
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