Tangled Yarns: Flashback

the race.

The bull lowered its head in full charge and hooked at Lawrence's back with its horns. The sharp tips caught at his clothing and he was tossed into the air. He went right over the animal's head and glanced off the bull's back like a rag doll, landing on the ground face first. He was hurt.

Now the boys were yelling at the bull, trying to distract it. They waved their arms and shouted.

Lawrence got to his feet and went round the back of the bull as it turned. He stumbled towards the gate, as shooting pains, like hot knives, jabbed at his shoulders. The bull wheeled, looking for him, and charged again, this time hurling him sideways. This time Lawrence felt his right arm bend at a crazy angle underneath, and his neck seemed to crack in two.

"Help!" he called.

The boys on the gate jumped up and down yelling "Yah! Yah!" and the bull ran at them, smashing his head against the boards. But this gave Lawrence time to crawl to the fence and slip through the lower wires. He fell into the grass on the other side and shut his eyes.

When he opened them again he was in a bedroom. He could smell flowers, and medicine, and he knew there were people standing nearby because he saw them moving. When he tried to turn his head to look, nothing happened.

And someone came closer and began to wipe his face with a warm cloth that smelled of soap. He saw the hand on the cloth. It was a woman's hand, soft, gentle, with two rings on two fingers. Engagement and marriage. It was a working hand, with lines and scratches and strength. His mother's.

"Don't worry," she was saying, "Its all right now. You'll soon be well again."

Lawrence had lain there for a week before he was able to move without too much pain. Then he had managed to sit up, and then to stand beside the bed, and finally, to walk to another part of the room. It had been as close to dying as he had ever been.

His mother cared for him ceaselessly. She brought him things to eat. She read to him. She gave him paper and crayons. Lawrence had never known such care and attention.

And then one afternoon, as he was sitting with his mother on the verandah, and she was spinning a fleece to make a jersey, she told him about something which had happened to her, when she was a girl.