Поющие в терновнике

           Ateachman’sstandinthegreatshedwasacircleofflooringmuchlighterincolorthantherest,thespotwherefiftyyearsofshearershadstooddrippingtheirbleachingsweatintothewoodoftheboard.

           Therewasstillgrassfromthefloodlongago,butitwasthinningominously.Dayafterdaytheskieswereovercastandthelightdull,butitneverrained.Thewindhowledsadlyacrossthepaddocks,spinningdriftingbrownsheetsofdustbeforeitlikerain,tormentingthemindwithimagesofwater.Somuchlikerainitlooked,thatraggedlyblowingdust.

           Thechildrendevelopedchilblainsontheirfingers,triednottosmilewithcrackedlips,hadtopeeltheirsocksawayfrombleedingheelsandshins.Itwasquiteimpossibletokeepwarminthefaceofthatbitterhighwind,especiallywhenthehouseshadbeendesignedtocatcheverystraypuffofair,notkeepitout.Goingtobedinicybedrooms,gettingupinicybedrooms,waitingpatientlyforMumtosparealittlehotwaterfromthegreatkettleonthehobsothatwashingwasnotateeth-chattering,painfulordeal.

           OnedaysmallHalstartedtocoughandwheeze,andrapidlygrewworse.Feemixedupaglueyhotpoulticeofcharcoalandspreaditonhislaboringlittlechest,butitseemedtogivehimnorelief.Atfirstshewasnotundulyworried,butasthedaydrewonhebegantodeterioratesoquicklyshenolongerhadanyideawhattodo,andMeggiesatbyhissidewringingherhands,prayingawordlessstreamofOurFathersandHailMarys.