Free The White Earth by Andrew McGahan Page A

any monsters down here in the foothills,’ he said.‘But I’ve seen packs of wild dogs around here, and the bodies of sheep and cattle, torn apart. Sometimes they used to come down to the House on clear nights like this, howling at the moon like wolves, always one big dog in the lead and the others slinking behind. It was a horrible sound they made, and sad too. We shot as many we could. And then there were feral cats, big and mean, squealing in the night, just like the sound of a baby crying. People who didn’t know better nearly went mad searching out in the bush for abandoned children. But there were never very many people in these hills. There was no gold to find here, no timber to cut. Just scrub and grass.’
    He paused, drew in a breath of the cold air.
    ‘I’ll tell you something. Maybe a dozen people have owned this property before me. The land has been cleared and grazed for almost one hundred and fifty years. There have been cattle and sheep here, dogs and cats and foxes and hares and a hundred other creatures that don’t belong. Foreign weeds too, lantana and blackberry and worse. You’d think there would be nothing left of what used to be here before they came. But I’ve walked this property from one end to the other, year after year. And there are still places where I don’t think a foot has ever set down apart from my own. Places where nothing has changed. But you need the eyes for it. You have to be able to see. Not everyone can.’
    William looked away from the hill. Out on the southern horizon a light had detached itself from the small galaxy that was Powell, and was moving north, a vehicle driving along the Lansdowne road. It was still many miles away, but such was the clarity of the night William could see the two headlights, and a fringe of smaller yellow lights above them. A truck headed who knew where, its driver hunched hollow-eyed over the wheel. William thought of his bedroom back at his old home, and the sound of trucks passing by on the road late at night, like thunder in his dreams.
    ‘How long have you been here now?’ his uncle asked.
    ‘Ten days.’
    ‘Long enough. Forget about your little farm. Tell me what you’ve seen here .’
    William searched for an answer. He was failing the examination, whatever it was. And he could feel sleep stealing over him again, sullen and irresistible.‘The House,’ he said.
    ‘Ah.’ The old man turned and faced the building — the broken-back roof slumped against the sky, the ivy-covered walls black in the starlight.‘Mrs Griffith tells me you’re not impressed.’
    William could hear the taint of mockery.
    ‘She’s lived here all her life, you know. Ever since she was a little girl, no older than you are now. She was a maid here once. Owners and managers have come and gone, but not her, she always stayed. In the end, in fact, she was the only one left. For a long time she had this place all to herself. So she’s not fond of intruders. She doesn’t even like me. She was furious when I moved in. I’m sure she’s sworn to outlive me, just so she’ll be alone here again.’
    Suddenly he crouched down at William’s side.
    ‘But you now…She’ll be worried about you. She can’t outlive a boy.’ The white face hovered close for a moment, a cryptic blur.‘What do you think?’
    William shivered. He didn’t even understand the question. Above him, the meteors had died and the faintest hint of dawn was paling the east. From far off he could hear the drone of an engine. It was the truck, plunging on into the night. It was the most desolate, lonely sound imaginable.
    ‘Time will tell, I suppose.’ The eagerness in the old man’s voice had faded. He climbed stiffly to his feet. ‘I’ve kept you long enough. You should go back to bed.’
    Instantly, sleep came sweeping over William. He followed his uncle numbly, back around the pool and through the garden, to the doorway yawning black to swallow them. Inside it felt airless, almost