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You know” whispered Julie. “Grandad said it’s OK. Like not to worry,” advised Tammi seriously. “He and Grandma talked to me about it last year when I asked them. She’s very ill, but explained everything. So did he. It’s funny hearing it from a man, but he’s very very old, so I guess he’s quite experienced. I mean he said the thing, you know, gets huge but it’s beautiful to see and touch. Grandma agreed.”“You seen one? I mean a boy’s thing?” asked Julie. “I haven’t.” “Only Grandad’s one day when I was ill and he didn’t know I was home and he went across the landing without anything on,” Tammi shrieked, than hushed quickly, realising she was in public. A few people glanced at the two girls in the corner, then ignored them again. “Wow! Cool! Your Grandad’s. Mr Cowl’s. What was it like?” asked Julie leaning forward to hint at a confidential reply. “OK!” replied Tammi. “Like a soft sausage, hanging against his leg. His belly hangs down a bit. It looked kind of cuddly nice somehow. Not at. The scene struck Anne with a weird familiarity, almost a poignancy. She slowed and pulled over to watch a farmer loading the bales onto a huge trailer. They were the big round bales, and he had a tractor with two prongs that speared underneath and lifted. Anne got out of her car for a stretch while she watched the guy at work. He was an old man. He waved with a big smile and she waved back. An old woman arrived on a four-wheeler, to bring him something to eat and drink. She also waved over and smiled. Past a small grove of trees there was a cluster of broken down timber buildings that struck Anne with the same weird sense of pathos. There was a gate to an overgrown driveway. It looked like it may have once been a little farm, but there was no house. As Anne rolled on past the gate, she saw that it had a heavy chain wound around it with a big rusty padlock. There may well have been a house once. There was something she couldn’t quite see that looked like foundations poking up through.
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