Crow Country by Kate Constable Read Free Book Online Page B

half- hugged, half-shook her, and thrust her into the bathroom. ‘You’re filthy. Quick, have a shower. Only you could get covered in mud in the middle of a fifteen-year drought! What have you been doing, rolling in it?’
    Under the spray of warm water, Sadie looked down at herself and shivered. For a few hours, she’d left this body; she’d inhabited someone else’s body, someone else’s life.
    Already the events of the night were fading, dream-like, from her mind, but she clutched at the few facts she was certain of. Her father had been Clarry, her mother was Joan – no, Jean. Her own name had still been Sadie – hadn’t it? She was sure they’d called her Sadie . . . She’d had a little sister and two brothers: Betty and John and baby Philip.
    Ellie’s grandfather was called Clarry. And her father’s name was Phil.
    Sadie could dimly remember Grandpa Hazzard – a gaunt, kindly figure with teeth too big for his mouth. Nothing like the pudgy, solid infant who’d sat, dribbling and vaguely damp, on her lap.
    So the crow had sent her back into the past, to live one night in the history of her own family. But why?
    Your story.
    Sadie turned off the tap and pressed the towel to her face. Her head was still spinning.
    The football match was in Wycheproof, forty minutes drive away. As soon as she stepped out of the car, Ellie spotted a group from the Boort footy club and headed over, smiling and waving. Sadie trailed behind her. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone. She was relieved to see the Mortlocks on the far side of the oval, and Jules and the rest of the pool-playing gang over near the change rooms, a safe distance away.
    Sadie leaned against the fence and stared blankly as the game began, letting her mind drift, stray thoughts connecting and separating. There had been a Mortlock in her dream – or vision, or whatever it was. Gerald Mortlock. Sadie saw a sudden vivid image of his long, pale fingers toying with a black silk tobacco pouch.
    â€˜Hey.’
    She turned, startled, as Lachie Mortlock draped himself over the rail beside her.
    â€˜Hi.’ Sadie revised her decision not to talk to anyone; anyone didn’t include Lachie. She wished she’d worn her blue top, the one Mum said brought out the colour of her eyes. She poked her hair nervously behind her ear. ‘Jules and Nank and Fox are over there,’ she volunteered, out of some insane desire to be helpful. She could have kicked herself. She didn’t want him to go over there.
    â€˜Yeah, thanks, I know.’ Lachie directed a brooding glare at the middle of the ground where the tallest players were scrabbling for the ball. ‘Jules is all like, oh, poor Lachie !’ He put on a whiny voice. ‘ Aren’t you disappointed you had to play in the reserves this week? ’ He kicked at the fence. ‘She doesn’t get it, you know? I was lucky to get picked last week. Muz is back now, that’s the way it goes. You can’t whinge about it like a kid. And it’s not my fault we lost today. Boort reserves team is crap. Just like the seniors.’ He kicked the fence.
    Sadie kept quiet.
    Lachie heaved a sigh. ‘ Anyway . . . You going to give me that game of pool some time?’
    â€˜Um, yeah. Sure.’
    â€˜How about right now? Better than watching the Magpies get belted again.’
    â€˜Now ?’ squeaked Sadie. ‘But we’re in Wycheproof!’
    â€˜They have pool tables in Wycheproof, you know.’ The corners of Lachie’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. He had the bluest eyes. ‘But yeah, you’re right, they might not let us into the pub. Not you, anyway. How old are you?’
    â€˜Fourteen,’ said Sadie. ‘Practically.’ She was mortified.
    â€˜Yeah? Seriously?’ Lachie kicked the fence again; the whole length of wire vibrated. ‘BALL!’ he yelled without warning. ‘Oh,