The Mackenzies had moved to the North Shore, to the house which still occasionally embarrassed Nora. She felt as though she ought to apologize for success. But there was the bird-watching. Most week-ends they went off to the bush, to the Mountains or somewhere. She felt happier in humbler circumstances. In time she had got used to the tape recorder which they took along. She made herself look upon it as a necessity rather than ostentation.

Eileen was dying for a cigarette.

‘May I smoke, Arch?’

‘We’re amongst friends, aren’t we?’

Eileen did not answer that. And Arch fetched the ash-tray they kept handy for those who needed it.

Nora in the kitchen dropped the beans. Everybody heard, but Arch asked Jum for a few tips on investments, as he always did when Nora happened to be out of the room. Nora had some idea that the Stock Exchange was immoral.

Then Nora brought the dish of little, pale tinned peas.

‘Ah! Pet–ty pwah!’said Jum.

He formed his full, and rather greasy lips into a funnel through which the little rounded syllables poured most impressively.

Nora forgot her embarrassment. She envied Jum his courage in foreign languages. Although there were her lessons in Italian, she would never have dared utter in public.

Can you bear crêpes Suzette?’ Nora had to apologize.

‘Lovely, darling.’ Eileen smiled.

She would have swallowed a tiger. But was, au fond, at her gloomiest.

What was the betting Nora would drop the crêpes Suzette? It was those long, trembly hands, on which the turquoise ring looked too small and innocent. The Mackenzies were still in the semi-precious bracket in the days when they became engaged.

‘How’s the old bird-watching?’

Jum had to force himself, but after all he had drunk their wine.

Arch Mackenzie sat deeper in his chair, almost completely at his ease.

‘Got some new tapes,’ he said. ‘We’ll play them later. Went up to Kurrajong on Sunday, and got the bell-birds. I’ll play you the lyre-bird, too. That was Mount Wilson.’

‘Didn’t we hear the lyre-bird last time?’ Eileen asked.

Arch said:

‘Yes.’

Deliberately.

‘But wouldn’t you like to hear it again? It’s something of a collector’s piece.’

Nora said they’d be more comfortable drinking their coffee in the lounge.

Then Arch fetched the tape recorder. He set it up on the Queen Anne walnut piecrust. It certainly was an impressive machine.

‘I’ll play you the lyre-bird.’

‘The pièce de résistance? Don’t you think we should keep it?’

‘He can never wait for the lyre-bird.’

Nora had grown almost complacent. She sat holding her coffee, smiling faintly through the steam. The children she had never had with Arch were about to enter.

‘Delicious coffee,’ Eileen said.

She had finished her filter-tips. She had never felt drearier.

The tape machine had begun to snuffle. There was quite an unusual amount of crackle. Perhaps it was the bush. Yes, that was it. The bush!

‘Well, it’s really quite remarkable how you people have the patience,’ Eileen Wheeler had to say.