Zeny Giles


Kathleen stands on the verandah and looks out. It is after four and the cars come one after another, turning from Maitland Road and moving past her house in an endless stream. She can feel their vibration as she leans against the doorway. Now they have stopped. The gates will be down at Clyde Street. She can see the impatience on the faces, the irritation as the cars bank up. AU those men going home, tired after work, needing to be cosseted and fed. She wishes she could put her arms around them all to give them comfort. The cars begin to move. She can see their relief - their anxiousness to be home.



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