“No need. Everything’s under control. Once the meat’s cooked Dad can carve and Kate can help me serve. I’m just making an apple sauce.” She waved her hand towards a pot that was steaming hard on the stove.

“Don’t let it catch,” Olive said.

“Oh no.” Laura whisked the pot from the stove and somehow the force of it flung the lid to one side, touching her hand. She jerked the pot forward and boiling liquid slopped down her front. She wasn’t wearing an apron and the hot apple soaked straight through her jumper.

“Get that top off quick,” Olive commanded.

Laura ripped it over her head and behind her there was a collective gasp.

“Hell’s teeth! Laura, is that a tattoo?”

She cringed at her dad’s bellow and turned slowly, hugging her bunched jumper to her chest. Olive whipped a tablecloth from a drawer and draped it around her shoulders.

Milt pushed back from his chair. “What in the blazes would you do that to yourself for?”

Her two sisters remained silent, Kate wide-eyed and Bree with a smug look on her face.

“Let’s deal with this first.” Olive waved a hand towards Laura’s midriff. “Did you burn yourself?”

Laura shook her head. “It barely soaked through.” She looked down at a red patch stinging on her wrist. “Only steam on my arm, I think.”

“That’s just as bad. Come here to the sink and run it under cold water.”

“A bloody tattoo,” her father muttered behind her. “The world’s gone mad.”

Beside her Kate cleaned up the splattered apple sauce and Olive saved what was left in the saucepan.

“Worse things happen up creeks without paddles,” she said.

Kate made a funny noise in her throat and gave Laura a grin behind Olive’s back. “A tattoo!” she mouthed.

“So what made you get a tattoo, little sis?” Bree had retrieved a thick work shirt from the laundry and put it on the bench beside Laura.

Laura turned off the tap and patted her hand dry. She glanced at Bree who was leaning on the bench beside her. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Christ!”

“Milton, I’ll not put up with you blaspheming,” Granny said. “Make yourself useful and carve this meat.”

He glowered at his mother a moment, opened his mouth, closed it, then took a deep breath and did as she asked.

Bree and Laura shuffled away from the activity and Laura picked up the shirt, letting the tablecloth fall away.

“What is it anyway?” Bree peered at her shoulder.

“A moth.” Laura grimaced. It had been Kyle’s idea. He had flames tattooed up one arm and he’d joked about her being a moth to a flame. She’d thought it funny at the time but the next day, sore and sorry, she’d hated it. Hadn’t even told Spritzi about it.