Free Summer at Mount Hope by Rosalie Ham

‘Captain Swing?’
    â€˜Pipe down, Lilith,’ said Robert.
    â€˜No,’ said Phoeba, ‘do explain it, Lilith. Marius is interested.’
    Maude winced. She hated anyone mentioning Robert’s convict past.
    â€˜Well,’ said Lilith, leaning towards Marius, ‘my grandfather was part of the Captain Swing riots and they were transported from Europe to Van Diemen’s Land years ago for attacking threshing machines.’
    â€˜There’s no such thing as Captain Swing anymore,’ interrupted Robert and stuck his nose into his wine glass. ‘What do you think of this drop?’
    Marius sipped. ‘It’s strong, especially at the back of the throat.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Robert, ‘a noticeable flavour.’
    â€˜They destroyed machinery and burned crops,’ continued Lilith, defiantly, her voice rising.
    â€˜Why?’ asked Marius, but Lilith didn’t know why. She looked anxiously at Phoeba who said immediately, ‘Because some were being replaced by the machine and those left had to work to the demands of the machine.’
    â€˜And so, you see, machines can’t do everything, we still need people,’ Marius said, as if that settled the matter. But Phoeba wanted the conversation to continue – after all, Lilith was just getting warmed up. ‘You only need half as many people,’ said Phoeba, provocatively.
    â€˜Yes. That’s the point,’ he said.
    â€˜Could you pass me the potatoes, please Marius?’ said Lilith. Her eyes were brimming with jealousy and there was a desperate ring in her voice.
    Robert pulled his napkin from his collar. ‘Come, Marius,’ he said, ‘we’ll find a better bottle in my cellar, something more subtle.’
    Phoeba felt a slight dread: Lilith wouldn’t like this.
    â€˜Hand me the potatoes,’ snapped Lilith.
    Phoeba handed her the potatoes.
    â€˜Robert, you haven’t carved!’ cried Maude, but Marius had discarded his serviette.
    â€˜Ouch,’ yelled Lilith and the precious potato dish lid clattered onto the silver saltcellar and bounced onto the butter dish, knocking the pert rose handle from its top and leaving a pale shallow crater. For a moment there was silence. Lilith blew on her fingertips and said in her most wounded voice, ‘Phoeba! The dish was so hot!’
    Robert chucked his napkin at her and it landed on her head, covering her face. ‘You dropped it.’
    Lilith whipped the serviette down and wrapped it around her scalded hand.
    Marius gazed at her hurt, pretty face.
    â€˜It was just so heavy …’ she said, shakily.
    Tears welled in Maude’s eyes and she said weakly, ‘That was my mother’s tureen, Phoeba.’
    But Phoeba didn’t care. Marius Overton was completely captured by her irritating little sister: he was staring at her as if he had finally found something to interest him.
    At that moment, Aunt Margaret appeared in the doorway, her green eyes twinkling brilliantly and her fingers black with sketching charcoal. ‘Oh good, you haven’t started.’
    â€˜It’s just ended in ruins,’ said Maude, her face flushing red and sweat beading her top lip. She bustled from the room waving a serviette at her crimson throat.
    Aunt Margaret plonked down in Maude’s seat and held her empty wineglass out to Marius.
    He hesitated, transfixed by her startling appearance. The full glare of the midday sun was catching the greying hairs on both her chin and her top lip.
    â€˜You’d have to be the rich squatter,’ said Aunt Margaret, returning the scrutiny. ‘I’m the poor aunt.’ She wiggled her glass and Marius poured the last of the wine into it. Robert went for more. Eventually they ate.
    Aunt Margaret held court for the entire meal conducting a healthy discussion on the introduction of rabbits and the overgrazing of livestock which caused