Isabel Frame, Oamaru Gardens
“On the second afternoon of the Picton holiday, the phone
rang, and June answered it, and heard through the static and crackle, that it
was ‘Picton calling’. Dad was at work, and Bruddie was out. Aunty
Grace was calling from Picton. Then there was an invisible commotion in the
kitchen, like static leaked from the telephone: Isabel, swimming in Picton
Harbour, had collapsed and was drowned. There was to be an inquest, after which
Mother would bring Isabel home by train.
There was no use even supposing that there had been a
mistake: Isabel drowned. It was almost ten years since Myrtle’s death, and this
new blow, like a double lightning strike, burned away our thinking and feeling
– what was there to think about, to feel?
The phone rang again. It was Dad: he’d heard the news and
was coming home. Bruddie was coming home too. The news was everywhere: Family
tragedy of ten years ago repeated. Oamaru girl drowned.
Some called her ‘girl’, some called her ‘woman’. Isabel May Frame
in her twenty-first year."