Chapter 3: The Godstone
The yard at the Fa’afili’i-Cooper’s cottage was buzzing with activity. Maggie was visiting her friend Bidge, whose dad had been gone for some weeks, and together they had retreated to the safety of the Moreton Bay Fig tree in the corner of the yard, to watch proceedings from the lowest branch.
A patterned cloth shaded a long trestle table next to the house, and the yard was full of bustling women, many of the same proportions as Rose Fa’afili’i-Cooper. They were dressed in brightly coloured clothing and were piling the trestle table with plates of sweets and savouries. Maggie was particularly fascinated by an enormous woman in a blue floral dress who was seated at the end of the table, leaning on her elbow next to a plate neatly stacked with a pyramid of sausage rolls.
Where Rose carried her weight like a battleship, with surprising power and grace, this woman was more like a supertanker, her enormous girth straining towards its waterline and her movements ponderous and lethargic. With a look of intense satisfaction she popped a sausage roll into her mouth whole and swallowed it down with barely a wobble of her jaw.
“Rose, girl, these rolls are jus’ divine. Where you learn to make’em like dis? I jus’ gotta get the recipe, or I’ll die, they so goood.” With that, she smiled and devoured another two rolls in quick succession.
Mrs Fa’afili’i-Cooper frowned, “Delilah, you gonna burst one day, you eat so quick. Anyhow, we s’pose to practice first, then eat.”
Then raising her voice and fluttering her hands for attention she called the women to order and soon had them in a rough semicircle around the table.
“As I went down to the river to pray …..”
First one group of singers began, then another came in over the top, and another beneath, till there was a rich harmony of voices filling the afternoon air. As they entered into the song, the ladies began to sway with the music, moving their feet to the rhythm and some clapping slowly on the offbeats.
“O Sisters, let’s go down, let’s go down, come on down …”
As the chorus repeated, some of the singers started to improvise and call in echo to the main body. Then Mrs Fa’afili’i-Cooper took centre stage and began to stamp her foot and clap vigorously till the tempo of the choir increased and they built up towards a finale which seemed to pull Maggie’s limbs in all directions.
“And who shall wear the starry crown, Good Lord show me the way …”
The song finished with laughs and sighs of appreciation, and the women began to chatter amongst themselves as they caught their breath.
Just then, Maggie sensed a movement out of the corner of her eye. She shifted on the branch and saw the head of a dog poking out from beneath a shrub by the side of the house. It was the same smoky blue-grey dog she’d seen at the park and again it was staring directly at her.
Maggie’s gaze was trapped, and she felt a curious crawling in the pit of her stomach. There was something strange about those eyes, they had odd colours, and they didn’t feel properly dog-like, yet somewhere deep inside her Maggie knew them. She was just reaching for Bidge’s arm to get her attention when suddenly there was a commotion by the trestle table.
A voice cried, “Rose, come quick, something wrong with Delilah!”
The fat lady in the blue dress had turned beetroot red and was clutching at her throat, her eyes bulging. Bidge’s mum pushed her way through the group of women, shouting orders as she went,
“She’s choking. Somebody call a ambulance. Paola, girl, you help me.”
With that, she swung around behind Delilah, grabbed her under the armpits, and with the help of a tall young woman, hoisted her to her feet. She then tried vainly to encircle Delilah’s chest, but succeeded only in losing her arms under the weight of Delilah’s massive breasts, so in frustration began to slap her on the back.
