‘They’re off to the Brindabella mountains,’ Marty said, scooping Bella up onto his shoulders.

‘That’s me. I’m Brinda-Bella. I’m a mountain. Can we go there?’

If only he could keep Bella like this forever. Loving, uncomplicated, trusting. Every evening when he walked in the door, she raced down the hallway to greet him. Tory had been like that once. She’d loved their bushwalks and camping trips at age five and eight and ten—dad and daughter, out in the wilderness. But now, at sixteen, she called herself Victoria and barely spoke to him. His ex-wife stoked the hatred, Marty was sure of it. Would Victoria really come to Canberra for the Father’s Day weekend? ‘Can we go to Brinda-Bella mountain, Dadda?’ Bella asked again. ‘Can we go for my birfday?’

Victoria, his ex-wife, Lexie—they’d all stopped believing in him. But to Bella, he was still the hero, the one who could make dreams come true.

‘Absolutely, my little explorer. I’ll take you there.’

Marty finished writing up the boy’s two-year development check, sighed and reached for the file on his next patient. Maybe he could take Bella to the Brindabellas this Sunday?

3 LEXIE

3

LEXIE

MY FINGERS WERE SHAKING TOO MUCH TO LIFT THE CHILD LOCK ON the playgroup gate. Come on, you can do this. I pulled it again and the lock clicked. Seven steps to the footpath. My black boots thudded on the concrete. At the corner, I turned right, striding past the pharmacy and the bakery. The little strip of shops was busy, with most of the car spaces filled. What if Bella needs the toilet? She has to have help with her cast. What if she’s choking on grapes? What if one of the twins hits her with a wooden block?

Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine … I hadn’t realised I was counting the seconds.

Outside the bakery, two weather-beaten farmers slapped each other on the back in what passed as a hug for that generation of men. Everyone knew everyone here. Apart from me, of course. But I did recognise a few of the locals. Through the bakery window I spotted the young schoolteacher waiting for a takeaway coffee while four elderly women ate Danish pastries at a table. Our neighbour was pinning a message to the community noticeboard outside—she was still worried that her new chickens weren’t safe in their little shed. A mother from the Tuesday playgroup was pushing a guy in a wheelchair—her husband or her brother?