The Well by Elizabeth Jolley Page A

was loose and as if her clothes were bright and light and as if they moved too, easily with her own rhythm. She felt free of bitterness, jealousy and longing. She was free from anxiety; who minded now, at this moment, about drought or about floods. She forgot she was lame and had always to depend upon a stick.
    â€˜I don’t suppose you care for all this modern stuff.’ Mrs Borden’s voice, close to Hester, broke in upon the sweetest consolation.
    â€˜I don’t dislike it,’ Hester said.
    Their voices were lost in the beat of the music.
    â€˜You should bring Katherine to the dances in town,’ Mrs Borden bellowed with the drums. ‘Would make a late night for you,’ she shouted, ‘but you could always sleep in, especially now, you being a lady of leisure.’ Liking the phrase she repeated it, ‘A lady of leisure.’
    Hester, not attempting a reply, nodded again. A lady of leisure living on a dog leg, she reflected, the owner of a special deed drawn up by lawyers for Mr Borden and herself. Mr Borden was not a bad young man, quite fair minded, Hester admitted to herself, she was pleased with the agreement. You couldn’t eat land, she knew this, neither could you spend it. At the end of his life, even while he was dying, her father worried endlessly about the property. At least, Hester thought, she would not end her days, thank you very much, muttering curses because the rain clouds were thin. If there was a sour side to the pleasure of the agreement it must be accepted. She had not considered earlier how she would feel when the land spreading out towards the horizon was no longer hers. She had not bargained either with the thought that the wife of the new owner would start at once telling her what she ought to do. She tried to concentrate on the dancing.
    Katherine with her head thrust forward and down was moving jerkily, like a wooden doll, towards them, her eyes were empty of expression and her mouth was slightly open. She shook her shoulders and let her arms hang by her sides. She let the shoulder-shake slide to her hips. She moved to the right and to the left advancing steadily towards Hester and Mrs Borden. When the music stopped abruptly the dancers, as if frozen, stood still. Katherine had one leg forward and one back and both arms were raised and her head was lifted so that her hair was thrown back. Hester saw, with fondness, the beads of moisture on her upper lip. The music started again and the dancers, as if they had never stopped, went on dancing.
    Hester sat with a little smile in the corners of her mouth. Katherine was walking or rather prancing with a springing step the length of the dance floor and back. She turned her head and moved her shoulders as her favourite John Travolta moved his head and shoulders. Back and forth she stepped lightly and, when the music changed, she began again to dance. Hester knew that this was what Kathy always longed for.
    â€˜Kathy’s enjoying herself,’ Mrs Borden said. ‘It’s a pretty dress, Miss Harper, that Kathy’s got. I guess you made it together. But it’s too nave. Pardon me for saying so but the dress is too nave. I guess it’s the Peter Pan collar …’
    â€˜I’m sorry?’ Hester had not heard. ‘What did you say?’
    â€˜I said,’ Mrs Borden said, ‘and pardon me for having the courage of my new position,’ she laughed with considerable noise, ‘pardon me for saying this,’ she said, ‘that dress, Kathy’s not her age in it. It’s too nave, but.’
    â€˜Oh, I see, naïve,’ Hester understood. She was deeply hurt by the remark, painfully as if Kathy might have heard it too and been wounded. ‘It depends on what you want,’ she said, feeling that she must answer but not able to say what she really would have liked to say.
    People, it seemed to Hester as she followed Mrs Borden through the crowd to the supper room, did