Chapters (48)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Also by Tricia Stringer
- Title Page
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- Excerpt
- One
In the distance Natalie could hear dogs barking, car doors slamming, engines starting. She surveyed the bombsite that was her kitchen and sunk to a chair. All she wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep for a week.
The screen door banged and Milt stuck his head in. “They’re on their way.”
Natalie turned towards him, unable to summon any words.
“She’ll be all right, Nat.”
She gave a weak nod. Her initial shock at seeing Bree’s bloodied jeans and the bandage around the top of her leg had dissipated. If Olive decreed it was nothing too serious Natalie didn’t need to worry. No matter what else might annoy her about her mother-in-law Natalie knew the girls’ safety was paramount. Olive was not a fusser but her lack of haste reassured Natalie that Bree’s injuries weren’t too terrible.
Milt took a small step into the kitchen. “Bloody hell.” With everyone else gone it was as if he’d noticed the state of the room for the first time. “Sorry to rush off. Will you be all right with this?”
Natalie nodded again. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
“I’ll get changed.”
“What about lunch?” she managed.
He gave one more look around the kitchen and settled his gaze on her, his lips turned up in a rueful smile. “I’m sure we’ll appreciate whatever you can rustle up.” And then he was gone.
In the silence that followed, the pieces of Natalie’s life shifted and swirled again. She gripped the table in case she was sucked down the plughole with them.
Eight
Eight
Bree hobbled from her quarters to the kitchen following the delicious smell of roasting meat. The slow-combustion fire warmed the room and Laura was the only inhabitant.
“Where’s Mum?”
“She’s gone to have a shower and get changed.” Laura turned back from the window. The golden light of late afternoon streamed around her, highlighting the halo of kaleidoscope hair flowing out over her shoulders. “Evidently we’re having Jack Halbot here for dinner.”
Bree glanced at the table. The good placemats sat in a pile at one end and a pot of freshly picked gerberas took centre place.
“I haven’t seen him since primary school,” Laura went on. “I don’t know why he suddenly got invited.”
Bree lowered herself to a chair. “Dad’s been helping him with sheep a bit lately.”
“It’s strange we’ve never socialised with the Halbots.”