Love in the Mill BY ROWLEY HABIB The evening's light was drawing in when Currani and his sister neared the turn off into the mill. A few stars were twinkling dimly in the darkening skies. A quietness had come over the village. It brought a feeling of peace within the boy. It always did. These clear Autumn evenings, with the dim light around about and night hanging heavily overhead ready to gather everything into her bosom. Currani somehow thought of the changing of lights as players taking their turns on a stage. Now it was nearly Night's turn. He could imagine it as a man leaning forward behind the curtains, impatient, yet not wanting to overstep his turn. For surely the days and nights were like a well trained troupe of actors. And Evening was Currani's favourite. Noises seemed to magnify in the quietness all round. Someone was chopping wood outside the Walters house. A dog was barking on a hill a little way to the right. It sounded like the Walters' dog away off, passed the trees another faint barking could be heard in answer. The two dogs were having their evening chat now that the noises of the mill had stopped. Someone came out onto the verandah and a high voice was heard growling at the dog. Currani recognised Margaret's voice and screwed up his face. The dog stopped barking and a door to the house banged shut. The two children turned in under the trees, and began strolling along the banks of the mill pond and past a row of huts. Some of the doors were open and the dim reddish-yellow lights of the lamps were seen flickering over the walls and at the windows. A radio was playing in one of the huts. A man was sitting on the wash bench outside his door. Smoke curled up around his face as he drew thoughtfully on his pipe. It was quite dark now. The children did not notice him until he grunted while shifting his position. Then they turned to him and Tootie said, “Uh Hullo Mitch”. The man took his pipe from his mouth and peered out into the failing light. “Oh hullo girly”, he said when at last he recognised the two children. “Going to take a look at the pond?” The children answered “yes” together and stood waiting for the old man to talk to them. Mitchell stood slowly from the bench and began rubbing his hands together.

FIFTH OF A SERIES OF SHORT STORIES BY MAORI AUTHORS “Ah lovely evening, lovely evening”, he sighed, and looked about him, taking in the night. Then he drew up his shoulders and as they fell he let out his breath noisily. “Ahh-! Ahh! well”, he said after a short pause and began rubbing his hands together again. “I think I'll come for a walk with you myself,” and he cupped the back of Currani's head in his hand. The three walked on past the remaining huts Illustration by the author.