Free Yesterday's Dust by Joy Dettman Page B

that she could read a word without her glasses. It would be niceto keep, though.
    â€˜Do you Nicholas Thomas Smith, take Bronwyn . . .’ At least that was in English. As was Nick’s reply.
    â€˜Just call me the last of the good Samaritans,’ he said.
    There was laughter, and half of the guests continued to giggle. When Bronwyn handed the priest a bull’s nose ring instead of the wedding ring and said, ‘Put it through his nose, please,’ everybody roared with laughter.
    â€˜What a terrible thing to say. Neither one of them has got one ounce of respect for the church,’ Ellie whispered to Johnny.
    He had his metal crutches on the floor beneath her feet. He’d dropped the crowbar on his foot this morning and broken a smallbone. Mr Fletcher had driven him down to the hospital. What a time for it to happen.
    And Jack . . .
    Not that Ellie thought for one minute thatit was his body they’d found. Not for one minute did she believe it. Not today. Of course it wasn’t Jack. Who on earth would do such a thing? Lord only knew what she’d been thinking of last night. She’d let her imagination run away with her, that’s all. And Bessy – it was almost as if she’d been pleased about it.
    Yesterday. It had started out bad and everything that could have gone wrong hadgone wrong after Bessy came down with her news about finding that body. The little brindle heifer had miscarried in the late afternoon and Ellie was petrified that she might lose more calves. One year they’d lost six.
    It wasn’t Jack’s body. It couldn’t be.
    And that pill Bessy had made her swallow last night, and when she rarely even swallowed an aspro. She couldn’t remember getting into herbed. Couldn’t remember getting into her nightgown. All she could remember was Bessy drying her hair with the dryer, and making a tangled mess of it, then the cup of tea Benjie had made and the tiny little pill that didn’t look as if it could harm a fly. The next thing she knew it was fourteen hours later, her bladder bursting and Mr Fletcher at her door telling her he’d left Johnny at the Daree hospitalwith a broken foot. Minutes later, Bronwyn and Annie had turned up and she hadn’t even had breakfast or a shower.
    And now the rain. What a day for a wedding.
    Poor Jack. He should have been here to see Bronwyn. From the rear she did look like an angel.
    But what if it was him?
    She shook her head, shook the thought away. She wouldn’t think about him. She would not. Not today. As if he’d mix withcriminals. As if anyone would . . .
    Buried out near Charlie Owen’s property. As Bessy had said,everyone knew about Vera Owen and Jack. Charlie Owen had split Jack’s head open one night, and everyone knew he’d been threatening to kill him.
    She looked up, swallowed and tried to force her mind back to the Latin. She glanced at Johnny. He’d know what the priest was talking about. She peered athis book, saw a picture of a bell and turned her page to catch up with his. He was listening to the Latin, his mouth moving, saying the words too.
    My goodness. Fancy being able to talk a different language. Her son. How proud she was of him. How wonderful it would be if he decided to go back to the church. He might one day. Her son, her own beautiful boy, a priest! Wouldn’t it have been lovelyif he could have done the wedding?
    Ellie had wanted him to give the bride away, him being the eldest, but Bronwyn refused point-blank – like she’d refused to let Ellie wear her overcoat.
    â€˜Benjie will give me away,’ she’d said. ‘He was the nearest thing I ever had to a father.’
    The mouth on that girl! Lord only knew how she’d given birth to either of her daughters. Both of them were so determined.Just as well they had been girls and not boys or they would have turned into second Jacks. Benjie had more gentleness in his little fingernail