Skins by Sarah Hay

when they were bad they were easier to bear. After they left England, Mary had been ill. They were all seasick but she was the worst, and even after she had recovered it was as though with all that heaving and retching she had vomited a part of herself into the sea. Their mother too seemed to have lost what life she had had in her. They had reacted to their new land like plants brought from England with root systems too weak to penetrate the hard soil. In the beginning it was Dorothea who had worked alongside Jem and their father to clear a small area of land so they could erect a tent.
    When Matthew wanted Mary for his wife, Dorothea had been disturbed by her sister’s lack of interest in what was happening to her. Looking back, though, she realised that their father probably wouldn’t have allowed Mary to refuse him anyway. Dorothea hadn’t wanted her sister to marry. She had watched Matthew one day when he came to visit. He couldn’t see her because she was hanging the washing on the line that ran from the corner of the hut to the bush. He came upon her brother William who was kneeling at the front door step. The boy had carefully spread out his rock collection, lining up the small smooth oval ones and placing the colours together. As Matthew stepped he looked down and with one quick action kicked all the rocks off into the dirt. Dorothea knew too that something had happened between Jem and Matthew. Jem was only sixteen but he was solid and strong. Whatever it was, Matthew was quiet when he was around Jem.
    Dorothea looked sideways at Mary and saw her own fear reflected in her eyes. As the sky darkened, the colours in the bay grew more intense and the smell of smoke and eucalyptus grew stronger. But the air was moist and suddenly there was no wind. Orange and yellow clouds edged the shadowy sky and brought with them thunder that rumbled through her and heightened her feeling of nervous anticipation. Then there were flashes of light, and foam and rumpled water as wind gusts tore across the bay. It was black as night as the ash sucked up by the storm wiped out the light. Then it rained. Black rain. Mary ran before her and they were running through spray that rose from the rock.
    Church lit a lamp. They were sticky with moisture and fine dirt but at least they were sheltered. Church looked at them strangely for their bodies were outlined by wet hair and clothes. They couldn’t find anything to wipe themselves with, so when Church left the room they lifted their skirts and wiped their faces with their undergarments. The fire threw out a golden glow and softened the edge of their fear.

    Dorothea swept the floor with a branch she found by the door. It was hard to see into the corners and she startled a long black lizard with white markings. She gasped and Mary, who had been resting her head on her arms, jumped and lifted her feet off the ground as it shot into the other room. Dorothea stared after it and then continued to sweep, making patterns in the dirt. She reached the back wall and a ledge that ran about a foot below the ceiling where there were large cone and conch shells covered in dust and spiders’ webs. Just inside the lip of the largest one was etched the figure of a naked woman. When she looked more closely she realised it was half woman, half seal.
    Heavy footsteps crunched on the other side of the wall. The women looked at each other. Lighter footsteps followed. Men’s voices murmured. Matthew and the boy burst into the hut. Like a dog, the boy shook his black curls.
    â€˜Brrr,’ he growled.
    â€˜Christ! Wouldn’t want to be at sea,’ said Matthew.
    Dorothea looked up. She thought it was so like him that somehow he wasn’t with the rest of them.
    â€˜You were lucky I didn’t tell them where you were.’
    He ignored her and held out a canvas bundle in front of him. The boy, in a kangaroo-skin jacket, pushed beside him and laid his bundle on the