BY PATRICK WHITE

Fiction

Happy Valley

The Living And The Dead

The Aunt’s Story

The Tree Of Man

Voss

Riders In The Chariot

The Burnt Ones

The Solid Mandala

The Vivisector

The Eye Of The Storm

The Cockatoos

A Fringe Of Leaves

The Twyborn Affair

Three Uneasy Pieces

Memoirs Of Many In One

(Editor)

Autobiography

Flaws In The Glass

OI KAYMENOI . . .
the burnt ones (the poor unfortunates)

Acknowledgements

My thanks to the following magazines in which stories have appeared: Australian Letters for ‘Willy-Wagtails by Moonlight’, ‘Miss Slattery and her Demon Lover’, and ‘The Woman who wasn’t Allowed to Keep Cats’; Overland for ‘Clay’; Quadrant for ‘The Letters’; Meanjin for ‘Being Kind to Titina’ and ‘Down at the Dump’; the London Magazine for ‘A Cheery Soul’, ‘Clay’, ‘The Evening at Sissy Kamara’s’, and ‘Miss Slattery and her Demon Lover’.

P.W.

Dead Roses

1

Val Tulloch liked to look at her husband while he was reading, and not exactly chat – a word dangerously close to chatter – she liked to think of it, rather, as speaking her thoughts. She spoke them, too, with appropriate softness. Sometimes she wondered whether she irritated Gil by doing so, but she had never asked, because she did not want to find out for certain.

Now she was going over the house-party she had arranged for the Island that Christmas, speculating again on the desirability of those she had invited, and Gil Tulloch was frowning slightly as he read. His wife was of the opinion that a frown suited his otherwise flawless face, giving it authority.

Val was saying: ‘The Furfields are always good value. Helen doesn’t jib at the washing-up, and Doug is so handy in the boat. We’re so used to them, darling, don’t you think? It’s restful. Though I can’t say I’ll ever take to Marcus. Bashing up poor little Jeremy. But after all, that’s life, and Jeremy had better find out.’

Gil Tulloch, who was giving Tristram Shandy another go, increased his slightly authoritative frown.

‘And Mollie Aspinall – certainly one has to take some trouble with Mollie, one has to listen to her – but she does love children.’

If she had been all like this, all the time, Gil Tulloch could not have put up with his wife, but here and now Val’s social speculations were hardly more boring than the battle with Sterne.

‘And Barry Flegg.’

‘Why did you invite Barry?’ Gil Tulloch asked, reading.

‘To balance Mollie Aspinal.’

‘Isn’t Mollie a bit leathery, a bit long in the tooth for Barry?’

‘But she’s grateful just for the smell of a man.’

Val Tulloch was so pleased, she laughed. Shortly before their discussion she had begun to accept the presence of their fifth and unexpected child. She was still dazed, but very happy.

Her husband turned the page, and waited. He could skim books professionally. And really did enjoy his wife.

‘No,’ said Val, sitting forward, her face growing dark with purpose. ‘I’ll tell you why I asked Barry. I’ve invited Anthea Scudamore.’