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Contents (121)
  1. THE SILENCE
  2. Susan Allott
  3. Copyright
  4. Praise for The Silence:
  5. Dedication
  6. 1
  7. London, 1997
  8. 2
  9. Sydney, 1966
  10. 3
  11. Ivanhoe, New South Wales, 1966
  12. 4
  13. Sydney, 1967
  14. 5
  15. Sydney, 1967
  16. 6
  17. Sydney, 1997
  18. 7
  19. Sydney, 1967
  20. 8
  21. Sydney, 1967
  22. 9
  23. Sydney, 1967
  24. 10
  25. Sydney, 1967
  26. 11
  27. Sydney, 1997
  28. 12
  29. Sydney, 1967
  30. 13
  31. Sydney, 1967
  32. 14
  33. Sydney, 1997
  34. 15
  35. Sydney, 1967
  36. 16
  37. Sydney, 1967
  38. 17
  39. Leeds, 1967
  40. 18
  41. Sydney, 1967
  42. 19
  43. Sydney, 1997
  44. 20
  45. Sydney, 1967
  46. 21
  47. Ivanhoe, 1967
  48. 22
  49. Leeds, 1967
  50. 23
  51. Sydney, 1997
  52. 24
  53. Sydney, 1967
  54. 25
  55. Sydney, 1997
  56. 26
  57. Sydney, 1967
  58. 27
  59. Sydney, 1967
  60. 28
  61. Sydney, 1997
  62. 29
  63. Sydney, 1967
  64. 30
  65. Sydney, 1967
  66. 31
  67. New South Wales, 1997
  68. 32
  69. Sydney, 1967
  70. 33
  71. Sydney, 1967
  72. 34
  73. Sydney, 1997
  74. 35
  75. Sydney, 1967
  76. 36
  77. Sydney, 1967
  78. 37
  79. Sydney, 1997
  80. 38
  81. Sydney, 1967
  82. 39
  83. Leeds, 1967
  84. 40
  85. Sydney, 1967
  86. 41
  87. Sydney, 1997
  88. 42
  89. Sydney, 1967
  90. 43
  91. Victoria, 1967
  92. 44
  93. Sydney, 1997
  94. 45
  95. Victoria, 1967
  96. 46
  97. Sydney, 1967
  98. 47
  99. Sydney 1997
  100. 48
  101. Sydney, 1997
  102. 49
  103. Sydney, 1997
  104. 50
  105. Sydney, 1997
  106. 51
  107. Victoria, 1967
  108. 52
  109. New South Wales, 1997
  110. 53
  111. Leeds, 1967
  112. 54
  113. Sydney, 1997
  114. Author’s Note
  115. Notes
  116. A note about language
  117. Acknowledgements
  118. Questions for Reading Groups
  119. Erin Kelly interviews Susan Allott
  120. About the Author
  121. About the Publisher

He stays where he is when she walks away.

53

Leeds, 1967

Grandma slapped the top of the TV with the palm of her hand. Stripes were moving sideways across the screen, left to right. She slapped it again, harder, and a picture appeared: the Blue Peter ship. Grandma stepped away from the set and the stripes came back, moving up towards the top of the screen in a great rush.

‘God in Heaven!’ Grandma gave the TV a final whack, harder than before. The stripes thickened and slowed, and the picture blinked into clarity, this time with sound. ‘Look at that!’ Grandma did a dance on the rug with her arms in the air. ‘I’ve got the magic touch,’ she said. ‘Did you see that?’

Isla sat forward on the couch. It was her favourite presenter, John Noakes, the one with the nice face who made her think of Daddy. He said he was going to make a luxury dog basket out of a washing-up bowl. From the hallway her mum was calling, asking for help with her suitcase.

Grandma sat down next to Isla on the couch. ‘It’s a shame we don’t have a dog,’ she said.

John Noakes had put the washing-up bowl on a piece of foam and was drawing around the edge of the bowl with a marker pen. Mummy was shouting again from the bottom of the stairs. She was packing to go back to Australia. They were leaving later today to go home.

‘I’d better give her a hand,’ Grandma said. ‘Don’t touch the set, d’you hear? It’ll explode one of these days and we don’t want you going up in smoke.’

Isla nodded, her eyes on the TV. John was putting the foam into the bottom of the washing-up bowl to make padding for the dog basket.

‘Have you tried sitting on it?’ Grandma said, talking to Mummy in the hallway. She shut the door behind her and in the same moment the stripes reappeared across the TV screen, rushing downwards this time.

Isla stood. From the hall she heard Grandma saying I wish you wouldn’t go. Isla moved closer to the TV, willing it to work. She was going to miss the best part, where he showed you how to finish off the dog basket using a length of elastic and a stretch of material.

He’s no good, Grandma said. Haven’t I told you he’s a bad ’un.

Isla summoned her strength, lifted her arm high and brought her palm down hard and flat on the top of the set, as she had seen Grandma do. The stripes widened temporarily, but the picture did not come back. Her hand stung.

Mummy and Grandma were talking more quietly now. Isla raised her arm again and lowered it with greater force than before, delivering an almighty smack to the wooden frame. Her whole arm was throbbing now. She clutched it and watched as the screen went blank, apart from a tiny white dot in the centre. A high-pitched noise grew from somewhere at the back of the set, getting louder and higher as the seconds passed.