The Book of Emmett Read Online Free

made in the air”.
    â€˜And he wanted us to love words too. When Rob and I were kids he got us to define words. We tried so hard to get them right.’ Here her voice rocks unevenly and tears slip from her eyes. She tries to push them back in but it doesn’t work, so she clears her throat, takes a sip of water and ploughs on. ‘He taught us to spit properly, none of that dribbling. He said, “If you’re going to spit, make it straight and fast.” We are all excellent spitters,’ she says to an unexpected wave of laughter which she reads through, head down, galloping like a riding school pony in sight of the home gate.
    â€˜And he taught the boys to shake hands like men. He said, “Look people straight in the eye and then one shake and release – hand fully into the palm, none of this fingertip bullshit.”’ Again laughter falls softly about her and startles her, making her look up so she loses her place and for a moment the thudding of her heart is all there is. She finds the place again and races on.
    â€˜He told me reading was the best way to understand the world, no bloody doubts about that. He believed writing was the greatest art form. Though he thought dancing was an art too and that Rudolf Nureyev was as great an artist as the footballer Alex Jesaulenko. He loved anything written by Hemingway, Steinbeck, Tolkein, by Henry Lawson, or by his beloved Banjo Paterson, and his favourite music was by Tchaikovsky and Beethoven.
    â€˜He was a man who loved to feel things strongly. I want you to hear this simple little song by Cat Stevens because I remember listening to it by the old radiogram in the front room one day when Dad walked in and I thought he’d yell at me and tell me to get out, but he said the music was nice. This is ‘The Wind’ by Cat Stevens. Also the other choice, the 1812 Overture, would probably take up a bit too much time.’
    When she comes back to the wooden seat, Anne clasps Louisa’s hand in her own knotty hands. Louisa knows this is clearly the worst speech she’s ever given but by now it doesn’t even matter. There is a wrenching going on within her. Some kind of old pain is finding its way out right there in the little chapel at Gilberts and while she’s shuddering with grief, she is also honestly beyond caring. That her children won’t see it is the only thing that matters.
    Beside her Jessie is sobbing steadily, her shoulders rocking. The tissues in her hand are a mesh of snot and tears. She barely raises her head. Peter doesn’t want to speak. Says he can’t think of anything that hasn’t been said. The odd tear slides down his face as he sits with an arm around Jess.
    Outside the hot north wind pounds the ragged little funeral parlour and whips under the overpass. The palm tree out the front stoops before the wind and sheds papery fronds that curl on the hot concrete. Eva Cassidy is singing ‘Fields of Gold’ as Louisa and Rob and Peter and Jessie carry Emmett’s coffin down the length of the chapel, and the music gives them strength.
    Apparently there are those who believe that women shouldn’t carry coffins. Well, thinks Louisa, here they bloody do. She looks across at her sister and is glad at last that there’s another woman in the family. They feel each other supporting their father and now that the load is shared, he seems a lighter man.
    Turning right with the coffin isn’t easy. There’s some mild straining and the sweat flows. Outside, the silver hearse shaped like a bullet is ready to take Emmett away. They wait for the back to open and then in a slipping moment the coffin is lowered and swallowed by the wide mouth of the shining vehicle and then the door comes down and Emmett Brown is stowed away forever.
    Outside Rob slips his sunglasses back on and waits for Anne to emerge. He studies the sky intensely. Notes that the dust storm is edging closer. A blotchy