“I’ve been talking to Dad about it.” Bree turned to her mother, her look defiant. “I know you don’t want a tennis court but I think it would be fun to have one again. A while back I called over to see how the Halbots maintained theirs.”

Kate was the only one who remembered the time when the tennis court had been the focus of any spare weekends at the Kings’ and they were only vague memories, fed by old photos of Granny and Pa holding wooden tennis racquets, standing on the black tar court with neighbours. Her dad had been in some photos and so had the Halbots. By the time she’d turned four the only thing the tennis court was good for was riding her three-wheeler bike and even then she had to dodge the weeds pushing up through the widening cracks. The black tar had been ripped up years ago and now the space was overgrown and the fence that surrounded it was falling down in places.

“It’s a lot of work when you don’t play tennis,” Kate said.

“I played a bit last summer and I really enjoyed it.”

“Owen’s an excellent pick-up for the team,” Jack said.

“Oh, so that’s why you took up tennis.” Laura made exaggerated winks across the table at Bree.

“Jack and Owen both play number one for their teams.” Bree smiled at Jack. “It’s a toss-up each time to see who’ll win.”

“I think I’d better take up tennis then,” Laura said. “Sounds like there’s lots of talent.”

“We have no need for a tennis court here.” Natalie sat her knife and fork in the centre of her empty plate. Her words fell like a wet blanket, ending the discussion.

“Will you be able to give me a trim while I’m home, Laura?” Kate thought it best to change the subject.

“Sure.”

“Are you a hairdresser?” Jack asked.

“Yep.” Laura grinned at him. “If you need a haircut let me know.”

“Or a colour,” Bree said.

“Careful what you get yourself into, Jack,” Milt warned.

Jack dragged his fingers through his hair. “My sisters never have the same hair colour for long and I don’t remember what their original colour was any more.” He turned to Laura. “But they’ve never had rainbow stripes. Does it still feel like hair?”

“Of course.” Laura tilted her head towards him. “Touch it and see.”

He picked up a small lock, rubbed it between his fingers and let it go.

“It’s only colour,” Laura said. “Just the same as your sisters, only a different colour I assume.”

Milt gave a snort. “I can’t imagine Jack’s sisters dying their hair like a rainbow.”

“Perhaps Laura’s trying to tell us something.” Bree had a mischievous look on her face.