Out of Alice Read Online Free Page A

and took off at a run.
    Sam stayed behind to walk soberly back beside his mother, whose hand came to rest on his shoulder. ‘Okay?’ she asked softly.
    â€˜A bit tired.’ Quickly he added, ‘I’m okay, Mum. It was just a long walk.’
    â€˜Early night, then, I think.’ She spoke lightly but Sara saw the strain in her face, a look she would come to associate with Sam’s down periods when his energy levels were low or his appetite off. Of course the worry must be constant for her, so far from the ambulance service and hospitals. Sam’s illness would be a tremendous burden for any family, she thought compassionately, but how much more so for one way out here?

4
    At the house Beth glanced at the lengthening shadows. ‘Dinner won’t be long. But there’s time enough to shower or unpack if you want to.’
    Sara did both. Her room opened onto a side verandah and contained all she would need. There was, she was glad to see, a ceiling fan, and a bed with a white coverlet and two pillows, patterned drapes at the French doors, a dressing table and a narrow wardrobe. A bulky roll on top of it proved to be an old-fashioned hooked rug – for use in winter, she deduced. Slipping off her shoes, Sara lay down to test the mattress; she yawned, settling her head onto the pillow. It had been a long day. Moments later she had drifted off, to wake to a persistent knocking and Becky’s voice calling that dinner was ready.
    It was still warm although the sun had set while she slept. Night enfolded the homestead with a blackness Sara had never experienced before, and somewhere out in it a diesel engine thudded monotonously. They would eat in the dining room.
    â€˜To celebrate your arrival,’ Beth explained, ‘and to prove we can be civilised.’
    Becky, plainly pleased with the novelty of it, had set out linen placemats and had begged to use the good plates as well. ‘
I
did the table,’ she told Sara proudly.
    â€˜And you made a lovely job of it,’ Sara responded.
    The little girl beamed.
    The men arrived, heads wet from recent showering. Jack hoisted an eyebrow at his niece, who was fussing with paper napkins. ‘What’s all this, then, Squirt? Putting on the dog for Sara?’
    Becky giggled. ‘It’s a party, Uncle Jack.’
    â€˜You’ll be giving her ideas. Next thing she’ll want a rise in pay.’ But he winked at Sara as he spoke and she smiled back, amused by his relentless cheerfulness. He’d shaved and scrubbed his nails and, now that his hat was off and she could see his face properly, he wasn’t bad looking. The white stripe across his forehead where his hat habitually rested was startling at first, but Beth’s husband had it too.
    Len Calshot looked older than his wife, a rangy six-footer with sun-damaged skin and big freckled hands. His hair, a lighter brown than Beth’s, was thinning, and there was a bloodhound droop to his cheeks, which, with his dark eyes, gave him a mournful look that vanished when he smiled. He welcomed Sara in a low voice, then settled himself before the casserole dish to serve out the meal, passing each plate as it was filled to Beth, who added mashed potatoes.
    Jack was seated across from Sara. Once they were all eating she asked, ‘Have you found whatever it was you wanted for the thing you were repairing?’
    He grinned. ‘That’s one way of putting it. Yeah, I did. So what do you think of the place, Sara?’
    â€˜Leave her be, Jack,’ Beth admonished. ‘Don’t put her on the spot like that.’
    â€˜Actually I like it. It’s so peaceful. You’ve a comfortable home, Beth. Is it very old?’
    â€˜Oh, yes. Eighty-odd years since this house was built. Len’s fourth generation, you know. We upgraded the homestead when we got married: put in the coldroom and the gas stove, built the bathroom. The old bathroom was outside under the