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'G'day Sean, you want to work the bellows?' the Smithy inquired. Sean skipped away from Bill and was soon pumping at the bellows. 'G'day Digger, you'd be Bill, wouldn't cha?' 'Yeah. How'd y' know?' 'Sean loves to tell me about his big brother in the war. Sounds like yer winning it on yer own. He's a terrific kid, comes here all the time. He babbles on about yer.' Bill stayed and watched the activity around the blacksmith shop for about an hour, occasionally, helping with a horse while Sean worked the bellows. When it was time to go, the smithy gave Sean two-bob. He smiled, showed to it Bill then put it in his pocket. Sean showed Bill how to get into the house the back way and he noticed an old beat up motorbike in the yard. Kate and Elaine were bandaging David, Bill's younger brother, as he sat at the kitchen table. 'What happened?' asked Bill. 'He fell off his motorbike,' said Kate. David tried to get up. Kate pushed him down again. 'Don't move,' Kate said. 'I was comin' back to see y'. I was goin' down the dirt road from Farrell Flat and I saw a snake crossin' the road. I didn't want to run over it cause it might come up and bite me, so I tried to go round it. The bike slid down and I hit the road in a cloud o' dust. I'm OK. Jus' lost some skin. It looks worser than it is.' 'How's the bike?' asked Bill. 'She's right. Just scratched the tank.' 'How old are you?' 'Fifteen,' said David. 'I thought you couldn't get a licence until you were sixteen.' "I told 'em I was sixteen,' said David. Bill just shook his head. Peter Kelly, another brother, entered the kitchen, he was twenty years old, not as tall as Bill, but he had the same rugged handsome appearance with fair hair combed back from his eyes and his sleeve folded back from his missing right arm, severed after a train accident when he was a child. He grabbed Bill excitedly. 'Bill,' he shouted. 'Pete.' 'Got ya a beer,' said Peter as he handed his brother the bottle. 'Knock the top off so you'll know you're home to a decent drop,' Bill gulped the beer straight from the bottle.
Continued On Next Page (Home from the War, Page 3) ... AUTHOR: Reece Pocock TAGS: Short stories war family BOOKMARK: Digg it | Add to Del.ICIO | Add to FARK ACTIONS: Comment Save Print Register free acount |
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