The Home Girls Read Online Free Page B

home she straightened up and walked back, coming to a halt at the fence post and standing there looking down on the men whose faces were tipped up like eggs towards her.
    She stared long at them.
    â€œWhat have you done to my mannikin?” she said.
    They were silent.
    â€œMy beautiful, beautiful mannikin?” she said slightly shaking her head.
    â€œAccidents happen,” said a foreman a small and shrivelled man who wet his lips and looked at the boss for approval in making his statement.
    Mrs Torrens walked like a trapeze artist along the fence top to reach the other post.
    She swooped once or twice to the left and the right and when she settled herself on the post she lifted her chin and adjusted her hat.
    The foreman encouraged by the success of his earlier remark wet his lips again.
    â€œGo home to your kiddies, Mrs Torrens,” he said. “They need you at home.”
    He considered this well worth repeating in the hotel after work.
    Mrs Torrens stared dreamily down on the men giving her head another little shake.
    â€œMy beautiful, beautiful mannikin,” she said.
    Then she put out both arms and almost ran to the other post laughing a little when she reached there safely.
    Someone had lit the primus stove and the shrill whistle of the boiling kettle broke the silence causing everyone except Mrs Torrens to start.
    She merely lowered herself and jumped lightly onto the timber picking her way down until she reached the ground. She shook the sawdust from her old sandshoes as if they were expensive and elegant footwear.
    Then she looked about her moving pieces of timber with her foot until she found a shortish piece she could easily grip.
    She then walked into the office and swung it back and forth among the things on the table sending the primus like a flaming ball bowling across the floor and pieces of china flying everywhere.
    The men were galvanized into action beating at the blaze with bags jumping out of the way of the stream of boiling water and trying vainly to save the cups and avoid contact with the timber wielded by Mrs Torrens.
    After a while she threw her weapon among the debris and stalked off walking lightly casually through the mill gate and up the hill to where the Torrens house was. The little Torrenses home from school for midday dinner stood about with tragic expressions. Mrs Torrens broke into a brilliant smile.
    â€œAll of us will be Dadda’s right hand now!” she called. “Dadda will have six right hands!”
    She went ahead of them into the house.
    â€œMy beautiful, beautiful mannikin,” she said.
    It may seem strange but that, the most violent of all the rages of Mrs Torrens, was not generally discussed in Tantello.
    Mill wives standing on verandahs and at windows saw her walk the fence and saw she spoke but the husbands evaded the questions on what was said.
    Some repeated her words but kept them inside their throats in the darkness of their bedrooms and seizing their wives for lovemaking held onto the vision of Mrs Torrens with her still face under her black hat and her strong thighs moving under her black dress as she walked the fence.
    Even Thomas Cleary couldn’t be persuaded to repeat what Mrs Torrens said.
    Young Thomas tried from the kitchen floor where he was doing his homework.
    â€œWhat did Rager say, Dad?” said young Thomas. “What was she saying when she walked the fence top?”
    â€œDon’t you get ideas about walking the fence top,” said Mrs Cleary from the table where she was sullenly making Thomas senior’s lunch for the morrow. “Don’t you go copying that crazy woman!”
    Thomas senior jerked his head up and opened his mouth but closed it before a denial escaped his lips.
    â€œGo on Dad! You musta heard Rager!” said young Thomas.
    But Thomas senior staring into the scarlet stove fire saw only the flaming red of Mrs Torrens’s hair and when a coal broke it seemed like the petals of