‘So, it’s true?’ she said, smirking. Her parents stopped their conversation and turned towards them.

‘Keep your voice down,’ Mal whispered.

‘You and Becky?’

‘How the hell did you find out?’

She looked at her brother sympathetically. ‘I think you’ve been away too long. Nothing happens around here without everyone knowing about it. Besides, I work in gossip central.’

Elle only just refrained from laughing at Malcolm’s worried expression. ‘I’m kidding … it’s not all over town. Lilly said she saw you two having a drink the other night … I was just pulling your chain.’ But now she realised maybe it had been something after all. ‘Is it serious?’

‘No,’ he said, a little too quickly. ‘We’ve just been catching up while I was in town.’ Becky Sloan had been in her brother’s year at school and the two had been an item for a short time before he moved away to university. Her parents hadn’t been thrilled about the union. Becky had a bit of a reputation for going through boyfriends, and in a small town, that was usually enough to start a rumour or two. But Elle always thought she was nice enough. Maybe a little rough around the edges in a small-town kind of way, but she seemed happy and friendly whenever Elle ran into her.

Elle never did understand how the two of them had ended up together, though. They seemed complete opposites. Her brother had always been a science nerd, while Becky seemed to gravitate to the sportier guys—the footy players and cricketers. Yet they’d been crazy about each other for those few months, before Mal had left town.

‘I thought she was engaged to some guy who worked for the mines up north?’ she said quietly.

‘What? Oh. Yeah, I don’t know. We just caught up for a drink … as mates.’

She narrowed her eyes a little at that but was cut off from interrogating him further when Mr Bartholomew came to the door and waved them into his office.

‘Thank you all for coming. My sincere condolences for your loss,’ he said, eyeing them with a solemn look before clearing his throat and shuffling the papers he picked up from his desk. ‘Shall we get started?’ he asked, looking up and over his glasses at her parents briefly before continuing. ‘This is the last will and testament of Iona Kinnaird, revised on the first of August this year,’ he read, and Elle felt the familiar heaviness descend on her once more. She hated when the finality of it all hit her in the face like this. Her mind flickered briefly to the previous evening, but she pushed the thought away firmly as the solicitor read her gran’s words.

‘My belongings are to be divided among the family as they see fit, with exception of the special items that have been marked with individual’s names.’