‘I don’t forget them, or what they wanted—what we all want.’
‘Take care, Edward. Please take care. You’re a reckless man.’
Edward hugged Matthew and kissed Gran again. ‘Take care yourself, Sarah, and don’t you worry about me.’
But long after he’d gone, Gran sat looking at the kitchen door that had closed behind him.
‘Oh, Matthew,’ she said. ‘The old Greeks thought man was “master of ageless earth … lord of all things living … hunting the savage beast … taming the mountain monarch … teaching the wild horse … the wind-swift motion of brain”.
‘Edward could do all those things and yet in some ways he is powerless. I wish he understood that. He’d be safer.’ And the hand which she reached to him to fondle his shoulder felt heavy, as if she were leaning on it.
The man was visiting Mother again. Gran had retired to her room to rest. Matthew decided to see old Peter, who ignored his arrival. He was sketching a piece of plant with thick pudgy leaves and a tiny yellow flower. It was like a human with grossly fat arms and legs and a minuscule face.
‘It’s ugly,’ Matthew said, thinking of the marigolds orange as light stripped from the edges of the sun.
‘It’s not.’ Peter went on drawing.
‘It’s flower is too small and I don’t like it.’
‘Nobody asked you to like it or dislike it. If you’ve come here to argue and set up your own opinions then go away again.’
Matthew grinned. Old Peter was always like this. You could say your thoughts to him and he’d say his back and both were like flat stones, quite without mystery.
‘Edward has gone away to Mildura.’
‘It’ll be hot there.’
‘Will it?’
‘It’s always hot in Mildura.’
‘He’s gone to change things.’
‘Young fool.’
‘Gran says people can do anything. She said that one day people will make glass that doesn’t break.’
‘And what use will that be to them?’
‘I thought … It’s exciting to be able to make things.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Won’t it be useful then?’
‘It might. You can’t tell with people, though. Things that start useful don’t stay that way. Now animals, they don’t make anything except homes and they stay out of trouble.’
‘Not always. I’ve seen a lizard lose its tail and the cat catch a bird and a fox killed one of our hens.’
‘Clever today, aren’t you?’ Peter said, stroking shape into another leaf.
‘Why do you draw plants?’
‘So people won’t forget them.’
‘Why would they do that? They’re always growing somewhere.’
‘Not always. Once there were plants that aren’t here now. Probably someone put a house or a shop on them—a house or shop with your unbreakable glass windows.’
‘But they haven’t been invented yet.’
‘They will be. And there’ll be fewer plants. The Aborigines who lived here once didn’t have houses or shops. They made shelters from the trees and bushes. They knew something.’
‘Haven’t all people lived like us?’
‘No. Don’t they teach you anything at school?’
‘We learn about English people but I think they live the same way we do. I think even Sir Francis Drake lived in a house with windows.’
‘Drake! That murderous scoundrel.’
‘Was he?’
‘Was he? He was a pirate.’
‘Like Long John Silver?’
‘Pretty much the same, but he was a pirate for the rich people. And rich people are a whole heap of trouble. They want more than they should have.’
‘Edward talks about rich people and little people who have to creep about on the ground.’
‘Like my creatures, likely to get trodden on.’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘And he wants to change that?’
‘I think so.’
‘Poor young fool.’
And Peter returned to his sketching, shaking his head.
‘Mr Werther,’ Matthew said as they walked along the street beside the house with the high wall, ‘Mr Werther, Edward has gone away to Mildura.’
‘It will be hot there, yes?’
‘Yes, I think so. Old Peter says it is always hot there.’
‘And what is he doing in Mildura?’
‘Changing things.’
Mr Werther smiled. ‘He enjoys that, eh?’
‘Yes,’ Matthew said, remembering how Edward had caught the boys who tormented Mr Werther. One day after school Matthew had seen Edward lounging against the wall, one shoulder propped against the rough stone, hands hunched into his pockets. When the boys called “Fat Fritz” and threw stones over the wall, Edward grabbed them by the back of their shirt collars, one in each hand, and lifted them off the ground so that their feet dangled on the ends of their legs. Then he ran them into the street while their arms flopped helplessly and their faces grew red and frightened.
‘Cowards, bullies, nasty, nasty little bastards!’ he said, and he shook them back and forth before dropping them on the ground. They fell loose jointed and limp like those bed-ridden and wobbling from weakness.
‘Grr,’ he said as they scrambled up. ‘Grr. Get home.’ And they ran. Edward had dusted his hands and grinned. ‘All fixed,’ he said. ‘No more trouble from them.’
Mr Werther had held out his hand. ‘You are kind, my friend, very kind. That is two times you have rescued me.’
‘Edward is wonderful.’ Matthew looked up at Edward and held his hand tightly.
‘A loyal friend, like you, my little Schubertianer. But Mr Kingsley …’
‘Yes, Mr Werther? And the name’s Edward.’
‘Edward then. Impetuous is,’ he hesitated, ‘impetuous is dangerous. They will not love you, those scallywags.’
‘I don’t want them to love me, just behave decently.’
‘Teaching people to be decent is a problem, yes? How to do it?’
‘I’ll leave you to teach them, Mr Werther. Teaching is a bit slow for me.
‘But you teach Matthew well and he’s lucky.’ And he had ruffled Matthew’s hair and strode off.
Now Mr Werther wanted to know Edward’s news. ‘And what is Edward changing in Mildura, eh?’
‘I don’t know, but Gran is worried.’
‘Your Gran is worried?’
‘Yes. I think she is afraid, Mr Werther.’
‘Afraid? Your brave Gran afraid?’
‘I think it’s about a man, the same man who was unkind to you at Rundles.’
‘What does he have to do with your Gran?’
‘He comes to see Mother.’
‘Ah, yes. I see. Of course.’
‘I wish Edward could pick him up by his tight collar and run him down the path and throw him out the gate
