teeth, Iâm worried my mother will marry Mr Titterton. Yesterday they read poetry together.â
âCompany for each other,â said Phoeba. âWe all need friends.â She glanced behind her but the bush was still and quiet.
âI saw them kissing.â
Phoeba laughed. âI ï¬nd that difï¬cult to picture.â
âShe acts like sheâs in love.â Henrietta inspected the twig, holding it just at the end of her nose.
âThen love must be blind, thatâs all I can say.â
Henrietta rubbed the twig up and down on a rock beside her, as if she was sharpening it. âWhat will happen to us if she marries old Tit?â
âYouâll have extra shirts to washââ
âIâm serious. What will happen to me and Hadley?â
âYou could always get married.â
âNo one will marry me. Iâve got a face like a puffed apple at a dance and anyway, Mother wonât let me. Sheâd have to do her own washing and who would tie her corset? Iâd worked out that sheâd be dead by the time I was thirty and then I can just live on at the farm with Hadley.â
âWhat if Hadley got married, Henri, then what would you do?â
âIâd still stay there. Itâs my home too.â
Phoeba took Henriettaâs hand, stopped her rubbing the stick up and down and made her friend look at her. âHadley wants to marry me.â
âHadleyâs always wanted to marry you.â
âI donât think I can marry him though.â
Henrietta looked at her, astounded. âHe didnât ask you, did he? Gee whiz, Phoeba. Thatâs perfect! We can all live at Elm Grove together. Mother and old Tit can retire to Geelong.â Then Henriettaâs hopes faded, like the thread of black smoke from a candle ï¬ame. Phoeba was not happy. She let go of Phoebaâs hand. So thatâs why Hadley had been working so hard these past days. Henrietta inspected the calluses on her palm.
âYou donât want to marry Hadleyââ
âItâs not Hadley, Henri, itâs ⦠I just donât think I want to get married. Itâs dangerous.â They were both thinking of Agnes Overton, young and privileged, writhing to death in a rich manâs snowy sheets sodden with her own blood and sweat.
âBabies donât kill all mothers,â said Henrietta. âMrs Jessop had seven.â
âAnd no teeth left.â Phoeba pictured herself standing by Hadley with her lips folded in to hide the gaps where her teeth had been. Even more unsavoury was the though of procreation with Hadley, with anyone without love. He had given her measles once, that was intimate enough.
âBathsheba, in the novel Iâm reading, has taken over her uncleâs farm,â said Phoeba. âLots of women work. Itâs not necessary to marry. Please donât let it come between us, Henri. Youâre my best friend ⦠Iâm sorry.â
But Henrietta looked away. Mr Titterton kissing her mother, and now this. It was all ruined, and theyâd been so happy before.
âMy mother married for security,â said Phoeba, âand itâs made her and Dad miserable. I think weâre meant to live a happy life.â
âYou would have made Hadley and me very happy,â murmured Henrietta.
The conversation was only making things worse. âAnyway, I said Iâd think about it.â
âDo whatever makes you happy,â said Henrietta.
But Phoeba was happy as she was: it was other people who urged her to change, to marry, to do the right thing.
Henrietta pointed off towards Geelong. âLook.â
And there, for the ï¬rst time, a very, very faint glow, like a bonï¬re that was thirty miles away, seeped into the sky to the south.
Friday, January 5, 1894
E arly morning brought the thresher team to the district. As she milked the goat, Phoeba watched it move along the lane,