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ROSEMARY DOBSONThe SistersFrom a Series: "Untold Lives""Aunts" Nell and Bess, friends of the family,Legendary peoplers of the north-west plains,Kept the vast holding that came down to themWith four wild station-hands to fence and shearAnd drench and round up, and truck into town.A timber homestead by a spreading lakeWith water-birds and willows, and two largeAnd laden orange-trees. Such oranges!My cousin and I went there to stay - but when?Bess cooked and cleaned and separated milkMinded the animals and garden-plots.And Nell - she drove the hands; and drove the trucksAnd drove the Land-Rover, and soldered parts,And scrubbed the weather-board verandah floors.She took us jolting off to hunt wild pig,Great feral animals, enormous beastsThat thundered at the truck. Nell stopped,Took out her rifle, aimed, and shot one dead.It twitched and kicked. I saw its small red eyes,The coarse sharp bristles down its swollen side.With Bert and Heck Nell tied the carcass upAnd dragged and loaded it, blood on her hands."Don't look" my cousin said. We all drove home.Bess spread the tea under the willow's shadeOn grass beside the lake. The orangesHung in the sky. And Nell appearedAlong the front verandah, pail in hand."Nell, here's your tea." Her sister shook her headAnd knelt to scrub those front verandah boards.We watched her wring her cloth. And painfullyWith roughened hands and brush she scrubbed and scrubbedAgain the well-scoured boards of yesterday.What was this painful expiation for?This wilful self-subduing on her knees?The image still disturbs my memoryOf lake and water-birds and orange trees.WESTERLY, No.2, JUNE, 1989 5