After the Earthquake (2)
On a table by the bed, there was a vase full of green leaves and large open milky flowers that gave out a strong smell.
'Magnolias,' said Mrs Blakiston gently, her head on one side. She loved flowers. 'Beautiful,' she added.
'I picked them from the garden,' said Miss Duncaster. 'Mother planted the tree when I was born. It has grown up with me. I felt she'd like to have the flowers beside her now.' 'Yes,' said Mrs Blakiston, 'yes, Annie, of course.'
Walter turned away to look at a box made of dark shiny wood on the floor by the window.
'That belonged to my father,' explained Miss Duncaster. 'He was a doctor, you know - the first doctor in this town. All his doctor's things are in that box.'
'Did he come from England?' asked Walter.
'A long time ago, in a sailing ship, with my mother. Mother missed England all her life, but she didn't go back, even when father died.'
At that moment, Walter noticed old Mrs Duncaster's hand on the side of the bed, lying just under the edge of the sheet. The hand held a book with something in gold on the cover. 'What's that?' he asked.
'My mother's Bible,' said Miss Duncaster.
'No, I meant the gold thing on the cover-'
'Oh, that's my mother's family crest. Yes, that meant a lot to her.' Miss Duncaster sighed, then added, to Walter's mother: 'She came from a very old, important English family, you know. I never knew any of them, of course. They meant nothing to me.' She pulled the sheet over the dead hand and straightened the magnolias in their vase. 'I'm a colonial,' she said. 'My life is here, in this country.'
Soon they went downstairs. 'Walter and I must go home now, Annie,' said Mrs Blakiston.
'You have been so kind,' said Miss Duncaster. She looked around the room for something to give them. 'Wait now and I'll cut you some magnolias from the garden.'
The big magnolia tree grew at the back of the house. Its dark leaves shone in the sun, and the white flowers were like sea birds high up in the branches. While Mrs Blakiston and Walter stood and watched, Miss Duncaster jumped up to reach the branches. She pulled them down and broke off the creamy flowers, careful not to damage them.
'They go brown so easily,' she explained. She laughed, her face pink and untidy, as she gave the flowers to Walter. 'He's surprised that I can jump so high,' she said to Mrs Blakiston, laughing again, this time at the boy's face.
'I only jump up like that when I'm really really happy,' said Walter. 'Don't I, Mum? I can jump damn high.'
'What did I hear you say, Walter?'
He had learnt the bad word from his father. 'I can jump as high as the sky,' he said softly.
They walked round to the front of the house. While Mrs Blakiston went to get the gig, Walter waited with Miss Duncaster. He looked around and saw that the brown riding horse was no longer tied to the verandah.
'Where's the horse gone?' he asked.
'What a funny boy you are,' said Miss Duncaster. 'What horse?'
Walter pointed with the magnolias that he was holding. 'It was over by the verandah,' he said. 'We saw it.'
Miss Duncaster bent down and hit him on the arm with her open hand. 'You're damaging the flowers,' she said in a quick, angry voice. 'There was no horse.'
Mrs Blakiston drove up with the gig. 'Come on, Walter. Say goodbye nicely to Miss Duncaster.'
On the way home with his mother Walter said, 'I didn't ask too many questions, did I?'
'No, I don't think so,' said his mother, but she did not sound very sure.
'Then why did she hit me?'
'I don t believe she did. It's just one of your stories.'
That evening, when Mr Blakiston came in from the farm for his tea, he saw the big bowl of magnolias in the middle of the table.
'Not ours are they?' he asked.
'No.' His wife told him of their morning visit to the Duncaster's and of Mrs Duncaster's death in the earthquake. While she talked, she picked up pieces of the china vase that had broken in the earthquake and put them together with glue. Walter, his own meal finished, watched her and listened to her talking.
'Of course, it's terrible for Annie, alone in that old house,' he heard her say to his father, 'but she seemed very brave about it.'
Brave? Mr Blakiston said. 'She's probably damn pleased about it. For ten years and more, she's been shut in that house taking care of that old woman. She'll have a chance to marry now.'
'I don t think she's the kind of woman who gets married.'
'Don't you believe it. I hear more than you do,' said Mr Blakiston.
'Does Joe Sleaver ride a dark brown horse?' Walter asked suddenly.
Mr Blakiston looked surprised. He took his pipe from between his lips and studied it before he answered. 'Yes,' he said, 'I think he does.'
Walter, warned Mrs Blakiston, 'you remember what I said to you today, about not asking questions, don't you?'
'I only meant-' began Walter, and stopped.
'What's this about? What are you two talking about?' said Mr Blakiston. 'Why shouldn't Joe Sleaver ride a brown horse if he wants to?'
'Walter thinks that he saw a dark brown horse tied to the Duncaster's' verandah this morning,' explained his mother.
'I did see it,' cried Walter. 'Mum saw it too!'
His father and mother looked at each other. Then, with his pipe in his mouth, Mr Blakiston reached forward and picked up a piece of the china vase. 'Well,' he said, smiling as he spoke, 'well, we don't have earthquakes every night.'
'I did see the horse,' Walter said again. Why did his parents want to stop him finding things out? All older people were the same. 'I did see the horse.'
'Of course, you saw the damn horse!' said his father suddenly. 'Be quiet about it, that's all.' To his wife he said, more quietly, 'I was thinking yesterday, you know, I shall probably never go back to the Old Country. It's too far away now, too long ago.'
- THE END -
