That Book Your Mad Ancestor Wrote - Plot & Excerpts
Strathgower, central Victoria, 1953 ‘They must have been pigeons,’ said Lillian Heap, one of the older girls, affirming the logical explanation. The careless set of her body – a well-furnished, freckled woman’s body in the fawn school uniform – declared against other possibilities. To the short and stocky girl with recently-cut black hair who stood, equally fawn, on the dry grass bordering the tennis court she said, ‘Are you coming, Joan? Or are you going to stay and wait for the flying saucers to land?’ It was a generous invitation to be the sort of person who had friends. It would have taken great courage of conviction to explain why it had to be refused. Joan Walker, who had been the only one to see them, hid a frown under the covered racquet she shaded her eyes with as she continued to look searchingly overhead, willing their return. It was the third week of March and still hot. The sky had reached the stage where it looked sick and tired of its glorious state; the blue was very thin around the edges.
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