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Singing in the thorns
for
"
big
sister
"
Jean
Easthope
There
is
a
legend
about
a
bird
which
sings
just
once
in
its
life
,
more
sweetly
than
any
other
creature
on
the
face
of
the
earth
.
From
the
moment
it
leaves
the
nest
it
searches
for
a
thorn
tree
,
and
does
not
rest
until
it
has
found
one
.
Then
,
singing
among
the
savage
branches
,
it
impales
itself
upon
the
longest
,
sharpest
spine
.
And
,
dying
,
it
rises
above
its
own
agony
to
outcarol
the
lark
and
the
nightingale
.
One
superlative
song
,
existence
the
price
.
But
the
whole
world
stills
to
listen
,
and
God
in
His
heaven
smiles
.
For
the
best
is
only
bought
at
the
cost
of
great
pain
...
Or
so
says
the
legend
.
On
December
8th
,
1915
,
Meggie
Cleary
had
her
fourth
birthday
.
After
the
breakfast
dishes
were
put
away
her
mother
silently
thrust
a
brown
paper
parcel
into
her
arms
and
ordered
her
outside
.
So
Meggie
squatted
down
behind
the
gorse
bush
next
to
the
front
gate
and
tugged
impatiently
.
Her
fingers
were
clumsy
,
the
wrapping
heavy
;
it
smelled
faintly
of
the
Wahine
general
store
,
which
told
her
that
whatever
lay
inside
the
parcel
had
miraculously
been
bought
,
not
homemade
or
donated
.
Something
fine
and
mistily
gold
began
to
poke
through
a
corner
;
she
attacked
the
paper
faster
,
peeling
it
away
in
long
,
ragged
strips
.
"
Agnes
!
Oh
,
Agnes
!
"
she
said
lovingly
,
blinking
at
the
doll
lying
there
in
a
tattered
nest
.
A
miracle
indeed
.
Only
once
in
her
life
had
Meggie
been
into
Wahine
;
all
the
way
back
in
May
,
because
she
had
been
a
very
good
girl
.
So
perched
in
the
buggy
beside
her
mother
,
on
her
best
behavior
,
she
had
been
too
excited
to
see
or
remember
much
.
Except
for
Agnes
,
the
beautiful
'd
oll
sitting
on
the
store
counter
,
dressed
in
a
crinoline
of
pink
satin
with
cream
lace
frills
all
over
it
.
Right
then
and
there
in
her
mind
she
had
christened
it
Agnes
,
the
only
name
she
knew
elegant
enough
for
such
a
peerless
creature
.
Yet
over
the
ensuing
months
her
yearning
after
Agnes
contained
nothing
of
hope
;
Meggie
did
n't
own
a
doll
and
had
no
idea
little
girls
and
dolls
belonged
together
.
She
played
happily
with
the
whistles
and
slingshots
and
battered
soldiers
her
brothers
discarded
,
got
her
hands
dirty
and
her
boots
muddy
.
It
never
occurred
to
her
that
Agnes
was
to
play
with
.
Stroking
the
bright
pink
folds
of
the
dress
,
grander
than
any
she
had
ever
seen
on
a
human
woman
,
she
picked
Agnes
up
tenderly
.
The
doll
had
jointed
arms
and
legs
which
could
be
moved
anywhere
;
even
her
neck
and
tiny
,
shapely
waist
were
jointed
.
Her
golden
hair
was
exquisitely
dressed
in
a
high
pompadour
studded
with
pearls
,
her
pale
bosom
peeped
out
of
a
foaming
fichu
of
cream
lace
fastened
with
a
pearl
pin
.
The
finely
painted
bone
china
face
was
beautiful
,
left
unglazed
to
give
the
delicately
tinted
skin
a
natural
matte
texture
.
Astonishingly
lifelike
blue
eyes
shone
between
lashes
of
real
hair
,
their
irises
streaked
and
circled
with
a
darker
blue
;
fascinated
,
Meggie
discovered
that
when
Agnes
lay
back
far
enough
,
her
eyes
closed
.
High
on
one
faintly
flushed
cheek
she
had
a
black
beauty
mark
,
and
her
dusky
mouth
was
parted
slightly
to
show
tiny
white
teeth
.
Meggie
put
the
doll
gently
on
her
lap
,
crossed
her
feet
under
her
comfortably
,
and
sat
just
looking
.
She
was
still
sitting
behind
the
gorse
bush
when
Jack
and
Hughie
came
rustling
through
the
grass
where
it
was
too
close
to
the
fence
to
feel
a
scythe
.
Her
hair
was
the
typical
Cleary
beacon
,
all
the
Cleary
children
save
Frank
being
martyred
by
a
thatch
some
shade
of
red
;
Jack
nudged
his
brother
and
pointed
gleefully
.
They
separated
,
grinning
at
each
other
,
and
pretended
they
were
troopers
after
a
Maori
renegade
.
Meggie
would
not
have
heard
them
anyway
,
so
engrossed
was
she
in
Agnes
,
humming
softly
to
herself
.
"
What
's
that
you
've
got
,
Meggie
?
"
Jack
shouted
,
pouncing
.
