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I remember that from the parson what used to come round school. We all kept saying it for weeks after.’
    ‘I suppose that’s all right,’ said Harriet.
    Jim shook his head in slow wonder, then lifted her other hand away. ‘I might as well get a good look, mightn’t I?’ He stroked her new pubic hairs with the top side of one finger, rather as if he was stroking the nose of an animal.
    ‘Real Siamese pussycat,’ he murmured. Somewhere round her pubic arch she felt a strange warm little quiver. Suddenly he twisted back the arm he was still holding. ‘You little bitch, you’re having me on. Aren’t you?’ She shook her head.
    ‘You bloody are. You liked that didn’t you? Eh?’
    ‘It was just that it felt like …’ she floundered for words. The closest she could come was the night before up in the tree. ‘It felt a bit like God,’ she offered, at last.
    He looked at her blankly. ‘You’re a queer one, aren’t you?’
    ‘Well it was like this, see, I was up here in this tree, this one alongside of us, last night … you won’t tell Dad, will you?’ She took his silence for assent. ‘Well, see, I reckon God spoke to me. It was good, it felt a bit like that.’
    ‘I reckon I better give you a bit of a feel and leave it at that, eh,’ he said uneasily.
    ‘You’re not going to feel bits of me, are you?’ She wasn’t sure why this seemed so important, but she knew it was necessary to check.
    ‘Oh, no. None of that stuff. Here, like this.’ He drew her hand onto one of his bumps. ‘Go on, hold onto it. That’s right.’
    Through the cloth of his trousers the bump felt very strange.
    ‘Jesus,’ said Jim again. His hand dropped hers. ‘I mean … he wept. Put your clothes on, kid.’
    ‘Thank you,’ she said, starting to shiver violently.
    ‘It’s all right, I won’t look,’ he said.
    ‘I wouldn’t think looking’d make much difference now,’ said Harriet.
    ‘You don’t want to be smart,’ said Jim. ‘That could get you into trouble. Being smart It’s not good for you. I mean, I could have got you, you know.’
    ‘My father might have come down,’ said Harriet, reprovingly, now that she was covered again.
    ‘Nah. I knew he was seeing the doctor about your ma. Knew he’d be up at the house while Doc was there.’
    ‘Is the doctor there?’
    ‘Yeah, didn’t you know?’
    ‘Why? Did he tell you?’
    ‘Haven’t they told you nothing?’
    ‘I’ve got to go,’ said Harriet. Her mother had never had the doctor to the house in all her life.
    She remembered the cups and plates and picked them up with awkward, hasty movements, trembling more violently than she had done when he touched her. Taking pity, he helped her gather the things and shoved them into her arms. For a moment they stood looking at each other, then she turned, stumbling as she started across the paddock with her load.
    ‘Remember,’ he called to her. ‘You just remember, fellas don’t like girls that are smart.’
    As she arrived at the house, a car was pulling away from the gate. There was a tired grey man at the wheel, wearing a collar and tie. She guessed it must be the doctor. She pushed the door of the kitchen open, and put down her load at the sink, then stalked towards the door of her mother’s bedroom, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.
    At the door of the lounge she stopped. There were voices in the bedroom. Neither Gerald nor Mary had heard her come in. The bedroom door slanted open. Gerald was sitting on the edge of the bed holding Mary’s hand. Harriet could see that at least she was alive.
    ‘You should have let him take you to the hospital,’ said Gerald.
    ‘There’s no point,’ Mary said. There was an edge of desolation in her voice.
    ‘I want to know you’re safe,’ Gerald said.
    ‘I am. I’m safe, it’s only rest now that I need. All that’s beyond saving is our baby. It’s gone.’
    ‘Yes, he’s gone,’ said Gerald.
    ‘He. You never give up hope, do you?’ As