Free One Sunday by Joy Dettman

–’
    â€˜Nothing was said about what happened?’
    â€˜No, Lizzie. I thought it sounded like an accident, though. Has been injured sounds like an accident to me.’
    â€˜Yeeees,’ Lizzie said thoughtfully, raising herself up on her pillow. ‘If it’s something internal, they don’t say, “has been injured”. Not a word about this, Jessie. Not to anyone. If this gets out before it’s supposed to, Squire will know where it came from and he’ll have my job this time. Hunter didn’t say anything else?’
    â€˜No. Or if he did I didn’t hear him. Doctor Hunter knew I was on the line, Lizzie. He knew it.’
    â€˜He didn’t know,’ Lizzie scoffed, ‘not for certain. He’s just a tricky old coot, and he always was. I would have ignored him. If you get off while they’re still talking, then they hear it, which I’ve told you before. Just stay on it and don’t breathe.’ She turned her back to her sister, inserted her dentures and settled them in with her tongue.
    â€˜I wonder what happened to her.’
    â€˜Whatever happened, it must have happened earlier on, because I placed a call to Squire’s around three-forty but they didn’t wake up. I had to call for the ambulance at quarter to five, but Sister Hunter told me to clear the line, then she waited until I did. I’ve been up and down all night, Lizzie, and I’m worn out. Then the ambulance woke me again. It’s a wonder it didn’t wake you. That bell rang all the way through town, then it seemed to turn around and come back, or that’s what it sounded like to me.’
    â€˜You should have woken me.’
    â€˜You told me last night that if you got to sleep, I was to make any connections and not to wake you even if a space man from Mars wanted to be connected up to the Prime Minister.’
    â€˜What time was this?’
    â€˜After midnight.’
    â€˜The ambulance, girl. What time did it get here?’
    â€˜Oh, just after five-thirty, and it didn’t leave until a few minutes ago.’
    â€˜Tell me exactly what Hunter said.’
    â€˜I told you. All he said was, he was the bearer of bad news, and “Your daughter has been injured”. That’s all I heard. It must have been something serious or they wouldn’t have got the ambulance across.’
    Attempting to wring more information from too little frustrated Miss Lizzie. She sat smoothing the thin greying hair from her brow with one hand while seeking her glasses with the other. Perhaps somehow they would enable her to glean more information. ‘She’s had some sort of an accident by the sound of things.’
    â€˜Yes, Lizzie. And as if those Squires haven’t had enough trouble these last years. They’ve had nothing but trouble since they lost young Freddy. And Arthur’s wife, leaving him as she did, and taking his son with her. Mr and Mrs Squire doted on Jennifer and that little boy.’
    Lizzie had ongoing problems with Nicholas Squire. She’d almost, though not quite, given up listening in to his calls. Without further comment, she pushed the sheet back and rolled a pair of tree-stump legs free of the bed.
    From the waist up Miss Lizzie was not a large woman, but something had gone wrong in utero. She had hips and thighs designed for an overweight woodcutter, which curved absurdly into a female waist and average upper proportions. Her lower regions, usually concealed by the high counter of the post office, drew many glances when she came out into the open.
    â€˜Pass my wrapper, Jessie, then make us a cup of tea. I won’t be doing any more sleeping now. Something should be done about those young larrikins running around the streets until all hours of the night.’
    â€˜You said last night that someone was going to do themselves an injury. Did you have one of your funny feelings, Lizzie?’
    They sat together in the