Read Online The Untold by Courtney Collins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Courtney Collins
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at the sides of his old chair.
He was panting.
Be good and make an old man a cup of tea
, he said.
She made a weak pot of tea for him, thinking she did not want to keep him awake, and she set the pot in front of him with a mug.
He said,
Whereâs yours?
And:
Keep an old man company. Pour one for yourself.
Jessie poured herself a small amount and sat cross-legged again in front of the fire grate.
The old man narrowed his eyes at her and the effect was menacing, although she suspected that his sight was fading and this was the only way he could focus.
Where did you ride today?
asked Jessie.
Itâs me who should be asking the questions
, said the old man.
Go ahead, then,
she said, and she hoped he was shortsighted after all, because she could feel the effects of her anger already playing out on her face.
Where have you come from?
said the old man, sitting forward on his chair.
Sydney originally
, she said.
Just passing through. Just another woman down on her luck is all.
She sipped the tea and kept her eyes downcast.
Down on your luck, eh? Yes, it seems you are
, said the old man.
No use in dwelling
, she said, and she stood up.
Iâm heading out the back to get more wood.
She grabbed the old womanâs coat from the back of the door and she heard the old man call out something after her, but she did not care to hear it. It was a relief to step away from the house, to make her way across the yard and through the dark to the woodshed.
The woodshed was neatly stacked with kindling and short stumps of wood that the old man spent his days chopping and piling. She stamped heavily on the ground in the old womanâs boots to give warning to snakes or spiders that she was entering their premises.
Standing at the entrance, she heard Jack Brownâs voice, as clearly as if he were standing behind her:
If not now, then when?
Was this the time to escape?
As she moved into the shed and collected wood she answered herself:
Girl, you wonât survive long in the mountains without a knife and a gun.
With wood stacked up to her chin, she moved back down to the house. She could see the old man through the window, watching her.
That night, as the old man had warned, a storm did break and it brought down trees. Jessie lay awake, listening to the trees falling and splitting and the strange bracketing sound of one tree catching another.
And then she slept, fitful with dreams. When she woke in the morning, there was only one that she remembered.
Septimus, her father, was sinking down and down.
Jessie could see his whole life floating up. There were womenswimming around him, their eyes beaming light, a three-legged dog, a clock he kept time with, trees they had hidden behind in the woods, all floating up around him like leaves in a cup. Her brothers and sister appeared one by one, phosphorescent creatures.
Septimus tried to reach out to them, tried to take their hands, but they looked horrified by him and they beat their arms and legs to get away from him. And the women, with their bright eyes and billowing silks, tied their skirts into knots so he could not get hold of them.
But my mother had been there all along, swimming beside him, offering her small hand.
Jessie?
Dad.
My darling
, he said.
Now is not your time to die. You are free. Now go!
J ack Brown rode on to the Seven Sisters. He rode beneath the tin sign that hung from a beam nailed to two wooden posts. The breeze was behind it and the sign made a sound like a single bird cawing across the paddock.
It read: *7 S ISTERS. B ATHS & S HOWS D AILY*
Jack Brown kept his horse at a quick stride, moving along the sweep of ochre-colored road until the Seven Sisters was in view. It was a two-storey house with a huge center window that was lit up with colored lights. The lights dangled from a sign that said OPEN ALL DAY ALL NIGHT . This day there were twenty or so saddled horses lined up in front of the house, their necks straining into a drinking
He was panting.
Be good and make an old man a cup of tea
, he said.
She made a weak pot of tea for him, thinking she did not want to keep him awake, and she set the pot in front of him with a mug.
He said,
Whereâs yours?
And:
Keep an old man company. Pour one for yourself.
Jessie poured herself a small amount and sat cross-legged again in front of the fire grate.
The old man narrowed his eyes at her and the effect was menacing, although she suspected that his sight was fading and this was the only way he could focus.
Where did you ride today?
asked Jessie.
Itâs me who should be asking the questions
, said the old man.
Go ahead, then,
she said, and she hoped he was shortsighted after all, because she could feel the effects of her anger already playing out on her face.
Where have you come from?
said the old man, sitting forward on his chair.
Sydney originally
, she said.
Just passing through. Just another woman down on her luck is all.
She sipped the tea and kept her eyes downcast.
Down on your luck, eh? Yes, it seems you are
, said the old man.
No use in dwelling
, she said, and she stood up.
Iâm heading out the back to get more wood.
She grabbed the old womanâs coat from the back of the door and she heard the old man call out something after her, but she did not care to hear it. It was a relief to step away from the house, to make her way across the yard and through the dark to the woodshed.
The woodshed was neatly stacked with kindling and short stumps of wood that the old man spent his days chopping and piling. She stamped heavily on the ground in the old womanâs boots to give warning to snakes or spiders that she was entering their premises.
Standing at the entrance, she heard Jack Brownâs voice, as clearly as if he were standing behind her:
If not now, then when?
Was this the time to escape?
As she moved into the shed and collected wood she answered herself:
Girl, you wonât survive long in the mountains without a knife and a gun.
With wood stacked up to her chin, she moved back down to the house. She could see the old man through the window, watching her.
That night, as the old man had warned, a storm did break and it brought down trees. Jessie lay awake, listening to the trees falling and splitting and the strange bracketing sound of one tree catching another.
And then she slept, fitful with dreams. When she woke in the morning, there was only one that she remembered.
Septimus, her father, was sinking down and down.
Jessie could see his whole life floating up. There were womenswimming around him, their eyes beaming light, a three-legged dog, a clock he kept time with, trees they had hidden behind in the woods, all floating up around him like leaves in a cup. Her brothers and sister appeared one by one, phosphorescent creatures.
Septimus tried to reach out to them, tried to take their hands, but they looked horrified by him and they beat their arms and legs to get away from him. And the women, with their bright eyes and billowing silks, tied their skirts into knots so he could not get hold of them.
But my mother had been there all along, swimming beside him, offering her small hand.
Jessie?
Dad.
My darling
, he said.
Now is not your time to die. You are free. Now go!
J ack Brown rode on to the Seven Sisters. He rode beneath the tin sign that hung from a beam nailed to two wooden posts. The breeze was behind it and the sign made a sound like a single bird cawing across the paddock.
It read: *7 S ISTERS. B ATHS & S HOWS D AILY*
Jack Brown kept his horse at a quick stride, moving along the sweep of ochre-colored road until the Seven Sisters was in view. It was a two-storey house with a huge center window that was lit up with colored lights. The lights dangled from a sign that said OPEN ALL DAY ALL NIGHT . This day there were twenty or so saddled horses lined up in front of the house, their necks straining into a drinking
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