Season of Hate Read Online Free Page A

slapped him on the back. He was shorter than us with black spiky hair and large full lips that looked like someone had hit him in the mouth with a hot frypan. He'd lost a front tooth since we saw him last. We were all so pleased to be together again.
    While Mrs Figgins told Dad how thrilled she was at having a doctor in the town again, in breathless whispers we filled Barry in on our brush with death at the hands of Miss Bridget. Then the three of us raced through questions and answers, catching up on everything we'd done since we saw each other last Christmas holidays.
    Once Dad finished passing the time of day with Barry's mum, we bombarded him with relentless arguments as to why we couldn't walk to school together, just the three of us boys, as Barry's mum lets him walk to school alone, and Barry could show us around and after all, it was just up the road, and he could get to his practice earlier. He finally gave in to our whining pleas by the time he'd shown us across the Casuarina Street crossing. We were already on our way as he called out.
    "And watch yourselves crossing the tracks. Look both ways. And come home together, all of you, straight after school. Alright?" Doug and I waved back as Dad turned toward home to get the car and drive to the surgery. It was only a ten minute walk from home, but Dad needed the car in case he had a home visit or got an urgent call-out.
    We went past Poppie's motor shop on the opposite side of the road, now owned by the Girotti family from Sydney, but originally from Calabria. They were at the start of a younger wave of residents moving into our town and its surrounds. Usually immigrants, but also some city folk, or people from other nearby smaller towns who could see the post war growth potential.

Chapter Three

    Inside the school gates, we stood out with our navy shorts and blue shirts against their grey uniforms. The children gathered around us like thirsty dogs around a summer puddle – all yapping at once, saying "g'day" and wanting to know all about us.
    "What are youse doin' here?" one of the older boys from fifth class demanded. He was tall and solid for his age, the size of a small man, with Brylcreemed hair and a split lip.
    "That's Steve Wood," Barry mumbled through the corner of his mouth.
    "I've seen him 'round on holidays," Doug whispered back.
    "You know Doug and his brother Pat, from Sydney."
    "We don't like city people," Steve declared, pushing his finger into Doug's chest. "Y've got tickets on yerselves. Think yer smarter."
    We didn't have a chance of a reply, before he pushed Doug backwards. A mate of Steve's had got down behind Doug on all fours and Doug went crashing over him. Laughter broke out everywhere. I was trying to help him up, when he pulled his arm away and launched himself at Steve. Even though he was physically outmatched, that didn't stop Doug. He kicked him in the shins. It soon progressed into an all-out wrestle on the ground between the two of them.
    "Fight, fight, fight," was chanted around the crowd of eager onlookers. I was trying to pull Doug away, while he was fully intent on finishing his opponent off. Punches were flying but few finding their mark. Steve managed to land one on the right side of Doug's nose, after Doug had ripped the pocket from Steve's shirt.
    At this stage, the girls had joined ringside and there were cheers of encouragement from the rest of the boys. A good few were on Doug's side, I might add. I yelled at Barry to help me pull them apart. Raymond arrived at school at that precise moment and raced to grab Steve's arm. As we were scrambling about, the crowd mysteriously went quiet and parted as swiftly as Moses had parted the Red Sea. Storming toward us was this tall, slender nun, with strange rimless, blue-lensed spectacles. She went straight over to Steve.
    "Get my cane and wait for me outside the classroom. And wash that grease out of your hair while you're at it," she directed with cool control.
    "He started it," Steve