A Charm of Powerful Trouble Read Online Free PDF

clearly, as though a rat had gnawed at it. Then Stella picked up a raw cob of corn and chewed at that, too, keeping her eyes on Emma all the while. She put the cob of corn down, stuck her tongue out at Emma, and ran outside.
    Emma stood and rolled an egg around in the palms of her hands. She put it to her nose; it had an animal, earthy smell. ‘You can scrape the shit off them for me if you like!’ said Flora, coming through the kitchen with a basket of washing. She wore work boots and shorts today, her hair pulled off her face in a glossy ponytail. Emma had only ever seen her when she went out, dressed neatly in a miniskirt, her hair flowing down her back.
    Flora's place had the feeling that life was being lived there in exactly the way that she chose. Emma was shocked that she left packets of tampons lying around on the mantelpiece for any casual visitor to see. Later, she simply didn't see the chook droppings on the chairs on the verandah, or the squalor of the house. She saw, though, that an appearance of order could be made out of chaos with the judicious use of an iron before you went out, or a damp washer on a child's face.
    Emma loved Flora's clothes. As well as miniskirts and suede boots that came right up to her knees, she had a collection of old clothes that she slipped on from time to time to amuse herself, like a child dressing up. Emma particularly loved an old rose-red shawl with black hibiscus flowers embroidered on it, which Flora flung over her shoulders at the slightest hint of chill in the evening air, giving herself a sultry backwards glance in the mirror. She had a lush black velvet coat that came almost to the floor, and it was so dense and lustrous it was like the pelt of an animal. Flora mourned the fact that the climate was too hot to wear this coat often, but she pulled it on occasionally, and in this coat she appeared to Emma as momentarily dangerous. Flora's clothes were like other skins. In them, she became another person.
    One morning, late, Emma arrived to find Flora still in bed, and a young man, bare-chested, wandering around the kitchen making coffee. He brought a cup into the bedroom for Flora. ‘Would you like some coffee?’ he asked Emma, inclining his head towards her as he bent over the bed.
    â€˜No thank you,’ she said promptly, though she was almost speechless at his proximity She was perched on the end of the bed, where Flora had motioned for her to sit. Flora had pulled the sheet up to her neck but Emma could see she was naked underneath. Flora smiled at Emma's confusion and sipped her coffee.
    â€˜Emma, this is Frank. Frank, Emma.’
    Frank nodded at her and smiled. He had dark skin, and eyes that flashed when he looked at you, and glossy black hair to his shoulders. His chest was firm and muscled, glistening as if burnished. He could have been Greek, or Italian, Emma thought, though he had no accent. She had no experience of people from other places.
    â€˜Anyway,’ he said, after a few sips of coffee, ‘I'd better get going.’ He squeezed Flora on the thigh through the bedclothes and left the room. Emma could hear him laughing with Stella as he made his way out of the house; his laughter was long and loud and without restraint, punctuated by Stella's high-pitched giggles.
    When the house was quiet again, it seemed to echo with his absence. Flora reached down and plucked a red silk kimono from the floor. Emma tactfully averted her head while she put it on, though she knew Flora wouldn't have minded if she hadn't.
    She had brought her drawing things, and she sketched Flora lounging on her bed smoking a cigarette. She took a lot of care with the detail of the embroidered flowers on the front of the kimono, but was too shy to include the curve of Flora's breast which was just visible at the opening in the front, a curve that she knew she'd find even more challenging than that of her legs.
    Emma's deep natural reserve struggled against curiosity