Mrs Peachum

Every afternoon he flings the front door wide, drops his bag in the hall. Tea, Bea! And she rings her silver bell.

He pours milk into the fine china, strains the tea, and hands her the cup. The skin of her strong hands is spotted purple; wide fingers with thickly ridged nails clasp the saucer. Her legs won't stand anymore but her hands never shake. When we were little we always took sticks into the paddocks to scare the magpies. I was terrified I'd hit one. First time I saw Sarsfield I thought he was a magpie. He was playing Peachum, the Beggar King. I saw him on stage and it was like the roof got torn off the building. She takes a sip of tea. He wasn't interested at first. Sarsfield always wavered between men and women. Federico pretends to study the rug. Love and sex. She waves her hand in the air. page 102 The thing was he couldn't really sing, but he was a terrific liar and people like to believe things, don't they my love.

Outside a protea taps the windowpane. The bedroom walls light up. Bea puts her cup down on the bedside table. Shift my legs will you darling. He pulls her bedspread covers back. Bea's swollen legs stick out below her white hem. Puffy ankles and veins clumped together in thick knots, root-bound round the bone. They seem to want to grow above the skin. He gently lifts her right leg up and bends her knee, holds it and moves the ankle round in slow circles. When both legs are stretched he moves over to the window sill, breaks a leaf off a large aloe plant and rubs the cool stretchy fluid over her ankles. He replaces the covers and takes the now cold tea from her hand. Bea's eyes are closed but she's singing,

You're sometimes glad to pull your panties down,
there are times when you'd be mad to tell him no,
once you've met him
you won't forget him,
so never ever let him go.