Free Siddon Rock by Glenda Guest Page A

into the folds of skin on his belly. Allison stood straighter to confront the image but the surface of the mirror fluttered like water under a teasing breeze. From the disturbance emerged the imageof a tall, thin woman with straw-coloured hair framing a white mask. The woman raised her arms to the mask, and Allison peered closer to see her face; but when the mask was down, there was no face to see.
    In the dark Alistair cried ribbons of make-up into his immaculate bed.

    From the shadows of the war memorial Nell watched Allison walk up the street and pause briefly before she made her perfect turn. As she did, all the light in the street gathered around Meakins’ Haberdashery and Ladies’ & Men’s Apparel and Nell could see movement in the display window. The strange light pulsed across the street to where Nell sat, and further to the edge of the railway station-yard. The restive dingoes either side of her whimpered so that Nell put her hand on their heads to reassure them.
    As Allison drew closer to the shop the light changed to a throbbing beat and the steps of the war memorial moved beneath the woman and the dogs, becoming broader and wider. A spray of water misted the air, even though there were no clouds in the sky. The dingoes howled in protest at the alteration of their world. Let’s go home, fellas , Nell said to the dogs. That Alistair’s dreamin’ something we don’t wanna know about. But the dingoes had already fled to the safety of Nell’s hut in the ancient creek-bed.

    Kelpie Crush was always the last to leave the bar. Every night he closed and bolted the doors, picked up glasses, washed them and left them to drain dry. He wiped the bar and threw the towels into the wash-house behind the kitchen. When all was ready for the next day, he would take the key to the Strangers’ Room from his pocket and fit it into the lock.

    A week or so after he had started at the pub Kelpie Crush spoke to Bluey Redall. I collect things and they should be away where they can’t get damaged, he said. The Strangers’ Room’s not used at all – too dark for anything, with no windows. If I cleaned it up, d’you think I could use it?
    Bluey Redall, anxious to keep such a deft and already popular barman happy, said, Seeing no bloody strangers ever come to Siddon Rock anyway, you may’s well use the room. Then, remembering that he knew nothing about this bloke except that he was a good barman, added, And don’t go lighting any bloody fires in there either.
    Kelpie Crush seemed to be liked right from the start. Sinclair Johnson, the owner of the District Examiner & Journal , who always propped at the street window of the bar so he could keep an eye on the comings and goings in the town, asked the new barman what his name was.
    Robert, never called Bob.
    Sinclair Johnson looked at the barman’s wiry body, dusty-brown colouring and slicked-down hair. You look like a bloody sheep-dog. A kelpie , he said. Should be out thererounding up bloody sheep. And so Robert Crush became known as Kelpie at the pub, and then through the town, until his original name was forgotten.
    The pub regulars also agreed, but out of range of Kelpie’s hearing, that it was quite off-putting to talk to the man at times because a bloke didn’t know if he was being looked at with the blue eye or the gingery-brown one. Most felt that it was better to stand slightly on the side of the brown eye, which seemed to be less confrontational than the other.
    Kelpie blended well with the town. He played hockey on Saturday, where his darting turns of speed and low-lying attacks placed him in the forward line; and football on Sunday. He got to know Harry Best quite well after the little talk about starting a cub scouts pack. Well enough, anyway, to play poker each Tuesday evening with Harry, Sinclair Johnson and Abe Simmons. He joked with the three men that between them they controlled the town –