And Natalie’s teaching wage had put food on the table, but she said nothing, instead swallowing the bitter seeds of jealousy that she’d never had cause to taste before. Olive straightened the cup on its saucer. A log shifted in the fire with a thud and a crackle of sparks. Where do we go from here? Natalie wondered.

The phone rang and she leaped up to answer it.

“Hi, Nat, how are you?”

Natalie pressed the phone to her ear, relieved to hear the cheerful tone of her sister’s voice. She moved out into the corridor where the sounds of the movie playing from the den made better background noise than the tense rumbling voice of her husband talking to his mother.

“Fine, Bron.” She’d said it again. Fine seemed to be the only word in her vocabulary when it came to describing how she felt. “How are things there?”

Her sister, her husband and their four children lived in Victor Harbor. Natalie and Bronwyn’s parents had bought their retirement home a few blocks away. They’d all been together last Christmas for a day but there’d only been brief phone calls since.

“Not so good.”

Natalie’s heart skipped a beat. “What’s happened?”

“Mum’s had a fall. Nothing broken, thankfully, but she’s a bit battered and bruised.”

Natalie pressed her back against the wall. She wasn’t close to her parents. As a young woman she’d always pushed their boundaries, tested the strength of their love and sometimes found it came up wanting. They’d been disappointed when she’d chosen teacher training over nursing, sad when she’d broken off with her previous long-term boyfriend for her whirlwind romance with Milt, and surprised when that had been followed by marriage; upsets that they’d never fully recovered from. Not long after the wedding they’d moved interstate for her dad’s work and even though they were now back in South Australia they only caught up a few times a year.

“Did she trip?”

“She’s not sure but she thinks so. She was in the street and the pavers are a bit up and down. The doctor wants to keep her in hospital overnight, perhaps two nights, and run some tests. Dad’s not a hundred per cent either. Still recovering from pneumonia.”

Natalie put a hand to her head. “When did he have that?”

“A week or so ago. Didn’t we tell you?”

“No.” Natalie tried to recall the last time she’d rung her parents or they’d rung her. She vaguely remembered her mother saying her dad wasn’t feeling the best. How long ago had that been?

“He spent a couple of days in hospital. He’s doing okay now, just not fully back to his old self.”

“Things have been busy here. I should have been in touch.” Natalie’s excuse sounded lame even to herself.