Black Diamonds by Kim Kelly Read Free Book Online Page A

have been to the native Aborigines and the first explorers, long since passed through, inexorable Progress on their tail. The shape of the valley itself is really quite beautiful: it looks like two ancient women lying down around a campfire. Their rounded breasts and thighs encircle devastation as if caressing it; they are melancholy and serene at once. More melancholy today, I think. There is still a tightness in my chest but I’m made tranquil looking at them. Beyond are hills and more hills, their steep crags and boulders plain brown now in the high sun. Beyond them are the mountains, which are indeed very Blue, dark and hazy shapes that from this vantage seem to encircle too, folding and rolling away forever. Like the sea. And I am homesick again for the home I no longer have.
    I’m also not wearing a hat and I can feel the sun searing the skin off my nose. What else can I manage to make a debacle of today?
    We ride slowly, very slowly, back, and I try to shade my face with my hand as we go. Hopeless. Still, I take the long way round the edge of town before turning up again to our eyrie by the slagheap. My dull but insistent hysteria returns as we near the house. But it’s all right. I’m only halfway up the road when I see the Austin pull out of the drive and putter down the other side of the hill. He’s gone, then.
    When I go inside I tell Polly I’m not feeling well and there’s no fib in it this time. I flop down on my bed and fall straight to sleep.
    Father wakes me, gently rubbing my shoulder, asking me if I want dinner. He thinks I’m exhausted from tending the sick last night. And the rest, I think blearily as he’s smiling at me. I tell him that I’m famished and he says,’ Good girl.’ He winces as he stands; he’s done his back in, poor thing, and I’m not surprised. I stretch and stare into the dusky gloom as he leaves and I tell him I’ll be down in a minute.
    I am famished too; I realise I haven’t eaten all day, and I’m at the table in a blink, devouring plates and bowls without drawing breath. When Polly has deigned to clear the carnage, Father pours himself a port and leans back in his chair, regarding me thoughtfully. He’s been unusually quiet and conservative tonight; I imagine he’s exhausted by his benevolence. Then as he lights his pipe he says to me: ‘There’s something I want you to do tomorrow, Francy.’
    Joy brims: something to do! What?
    â€˜It’s time, I think, you took more of a part in things …’
    Yes?
    â€˜You’ve not been out in the world much and …’
    He’s sending me abroad?
    â€˜God knows the world is a tangle of a place. You must know something of its realities, Francy, and it’s my fault that I’ve let you run a bit wild, follow your own mind, without better guidance …’
    Where is this going? He doesn’t seem soused, either. His eyes are bright and serious as he puffs on the pipe.
    â€˜I suppose I thought as long as you were safe and happy then there was no need. But there is a need. I can’t have you stay my little girl forever. One day you’ll marry …’
    What? Oh … he’s got someone in mind? He sees the confusion on my face and puts up a gentling hand.
    â€˜But more important, one day you’ll inherit whatever I have at the end, and that may be considerable. May not be!’ He laughs, then resumes the sombre tone: ‘I want you to be wise enough to know what to do with it, whether you marry or not.’
    â€˜That’s very modern of you, Father,’ I interrupt, intrigue turning to caution. ‘But what is it exactly you want me to do tomorrow?’
    â€˜Oh yes,’ he says, smiling, as if come back into himself, and I must say that although Father is peculiar, this solemnity is more peculiar than anything. And then: ‘I want you to go to the Ackermans’ tomorrow and give them the