Free The White Earth by Andrew McGahan Page B

warm, and the smell of age and rot assailed William’s nostrils. Then his uncle’s voice came, disembodied in the dark.
    ‘Don’t waste what time you have here, Will. You’re no use to me if you just hide away in the House.’
    The torch was switched on, dazzling, and thrust into William’s hand. His uncle limped up the stairs, the sway of his robe casting great winged shadows ahead of him. On the landing, the little door in the partition was wide open. His uncle bent to go through, then paused, glanced back down.
    ‘Explore. See what there is to see out there. But remember, you’re not to go beyond this door. There’s nothing up here for you.’
    The old man pulled the door shut behind him, and for a moment William heard his slow footsteps climbing higher. Then they receded, and William was left to grope his way back to his bedroom.

Chapter Eight
    N EXT MORNING IT WAS HARD TO BELIEVE THAT THERE HAD EVER been stars in the heavens, let alone streaks of fire. William gazed out from the front porch and the sky was a crisp blue, the winter sun shining brightly. Had he really stood with the old man, over there by the pool, and talked in the darkness? It all seemed so different now. But there was one thing he remembered clearly. His uncle had told him not to hide away in the House. And it was true, the time had come to venture further afield. The fine weather demanded it, and the whole station was waiting.
    He said nothing to his mother. There was no need. Now that the unpacking was finally complete, she spent most of her afternoons on the couch, watching the shadowy TV screen or sleeping, and he was under instruction not to bother her. She wouldn’t even notice he was gone. At least she seemed less irritable, ever since the doctor’s visit. He waited until she had settled down after lunch,then slipped quietly into the hallways. On the way he caught a glimpse of Mrs Griffith gliding through a doorway ahead of him, silent and shrouded in black, and for an instant the night of stars rushed back. But then William was through the front doors and out into the day.
    He turned left from the porch, crossed the garden and came to the eastern wall. The stonework had tumbled outwards in several places, and he climbed over into the grass beyond. Pausing there, he looked up at the knot of gum trees on the hilltop. They would be his first target. He began striding upwards, although the grass was deeper than it looked, brown and brittle tussocks that came up to his waist. He thought of snakes suddenly. And what about the cattle? He couldn’t see any, but what if there were bulls in these paddocks? Would they charge at him? He pushed on towards the trees. But when he reached them, he saw that what he’d thought was the top of the hill was actually only a subsidiary rise. Beyond it was another broad grassy crest.
    Looking back, William realised he was already quite high. The House was below him now, and he could see right across its swayback roof. It was an ugly perspective. Some of the chimneys had collapsed, littering bricks across the slate tiles, and in places the tiles themselves were missing, patched over with sheets of tin held down by rocks. Under this tattered brim, the House looked squat and fat. But he could also see more of the lower hill from here. At its foot wound the line of a creek, and clustered beside the creek was a motley collection of sheds and silos and stockyards — the working heart of the station. A tractor was parked out in the sun, a man in overalls half immersed in its engine. The distant sound of something being hammered wafted up from below.
    The scene reminded William a little of his own farm, but he didn’t think he could ever go down there to ask for rides on the tractor, or to investigate the sheds, as he’d done with his father. It wouldn’t be the same. For a moment a cold sensation of loss swept through him. He turned and stomped on through the grass. The brow of the hill flattened out, then at