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View From The Barn
Why don t you and Clancy go fishing my dad said.
The five of us Uncle Ted Aunt Bessie Clancy dad and me were finishing our afternoon tea in the farmhouse kitchen after unloading the fourth load of hay for the day. The new corrugated iron shed was a quarter full of hay and that was all there was room for. The rest was taken up with the farm machinery. The few horses dad still kept were in the old split log barn which had seen better days. But dad said that horses would soon be a thing of the past and the old barn roof was too low for the machinery he had on order but it would take the rest of the hay.
Sure I replied looking across the check tablecloth at Clancy. Sure Dad I added sourly.
James Bunning and his sister Mary had come by in the morning to ask me to a tennis party the coming Sunday and my dad had said no before I had a chance to say anything. Sorry James. But Clancy is only here for the few weeks of the holidays and I need him for the hay cutting.
It wasn t true and I knew the real reason why I was being kept away from the Bunning s house. And it rankled that he didn t trust me. After all I was 19 now and going to university in Sydney and I felt I was an adult. But I didn t think to cross him. My brother and I had been brought up strictly and I knew what Rob s death had meant to dad.
Do you want to go to Chittaway Bay or the mouth of the Creek? I asked Clancy politely. Read more
