Finton Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

babysitting anymore.” Finton complained bitterly, since he was in love with how Morgan sometimes made fudge for the boys, swore violently when she lost at poker, and let them stay up late when their parents were gone to the Saturday night dances and political rallies. Nanny Moon agreed with Elsie, however, remarking how the Battenhatch girl sometimes stared off into space and talked to herself. “With a mother like that? It just goes to show,” Elsie said.
    â€œAll they’ve got comin’ in is Morgan’s babysitting and Miss Bridie’s welfare cheques,” Tom argued, but to no avail. Ultimately, he gave in to the nagging and banned Morgan from babysitting at the Moon house. Still, there were plenty of other places in Darwin for her to find work. Gradually, however, word had spread of Morgan’s exploits, and there was a rumour going around that she’d been caught in bed with one of the boys she was supposed to be looking after.
    The other rumour was that, when she was eighteen, Morgan had thrown a rope over an exposed beam in her bedroom, stood on a chair and put a noose around her neck. Even bending her legs, of course, the ceiling was too low, and her mother had caught her before she could kill herself, throwing her arms around Morgan’s legs and thereby saving her from “an eternity in purgatory.” Instead, Morgan was sent to the psychiatric ward at St. Clare’s in the hopes that she could be cured of the darkness tormenting her soul.
    One cold night in early September of ’69, there came a thunderous pounding upon the front door. Finton was parked on the floor, hugging a pillow and watching Gilligan’s Island , thinking he would never want to leave any island that had both an exotic Ginger and a pretty Mary Ann. He heard mumbling from the porch: “Morgan home from the mental—Miss Bridie—fire, Tom.”
    As if on cue, a mournful siren’s wail pierced the night. Finton dashed to the kitchen and climbed onto the kitchen counter to peer out the window. He was just in time to watch the sleek, red truck, glistening in the moonlight between gathering dark clouds, its blood light flashing as it pulled in front of the ghostly residence.
    Tom cursed under his breath, wondering aloud what that “bloodofabitch” was after doing now. He slipped his feet into his shoes and tied them rapidly. “I’ll go have a look, Else.”
    Finton hopped off the counter in his bare feet. “I’m goin’ too!”
    â€œNearly bedtime for you. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.” Tom popped a cigarette between his lips, a frightened look in his cobalt eyes that made Finton all the more eager. Both of his brothers were out—likely down at the fire. So Finton feigned sleepiness, went to bed, and waited for the telltale creaking of his mother opening and closing the front door. Careful not to make the floorboards squeak outside Nanny Moon’s bedroom door, which was always barred tight when she was praying, he crept out into the night air.
    Even from his own front step, he could see that the blaze had painted the sky a lurid orange-blue. It was like stepping inside the hell of his nightmares. Flames seeped like liquid from the eaves of Miss Bridie’s house. Orange sparks spattered upward and twirled about like fireflies before settling mischievously among black branches. Suddenly, Finton was terrified: it had been a warm, dry Indian summer up until that day, and the fire would spread quickly to the trees and houses on Moon’s Lane.
    He galloped down the lane, feeling as if he were entering the screen of a colour television like he’d seen on display at Sam’s Stereo. About a hundred Darwinians had congregated before the burning house while, all around them, treetops blazed and the velvet stream that flowed between Moon’s Lane and the Battenhatch estate glowed silent orange and blue. Red parking lights