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
“Anyway, Nat, I know you’re working but I wondered if you could possibly come down and help for a few days.”
“When?” Natalie’s mind went into overdrive trying to think how she could manage a trip to Victor Harbor.
“Monday.”
“As in this week?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, I know you’ve got lots on your plate. It’s just that I’ve promised the twins’ teacher I’ll go on camp with them and we leave on Monday for three days. Mum will need collecting from hospital. I’m not sure Dad should be driving and they’ll need help with meals and getting around. Dad’s got a check-up on Tuesday. I can take over as soon as I get back.”
“Hell’s teeth, Mum.” Milt’s voice rumbled loudly from the kitchen behind Natalie, above the sounds of her daughters, well, two of them at least, singing along to ABBA music in the den.
“Move over, Laura.” Bree’s complaint was louder than the music.
Natalie put a hand over her free ear and moved further along the passage. Bronwyn’s now ten-year-old twins had been a surprise addition to the family when their older brother and sister were six and eight. Bronwyn had a busy time helping her husband run a small business, looking after four children, all still at school, as well as helping their ageing parents when needed.
“Of course I’ll come,” Natalie said, her mind still turning over the implications of her promise. At least she knew Paul would organise cover for her class. “I’ll drive down tomorrow.”
Putting a few hundred kilometres between her and home might be just what she needed to put herself back together again.
Eleven
Eleven
Bree leaned on the back fence, her arms folded across her chest against the cold morning air, her injured leg propped out in front of her. A chilly easterly wind blew. It made an eerie sound in the gum trees by the dog kennels and turned her ears and nose numb. Her sisters and her dad were nearby but no-one spoke. They’d all come out to wave off her mum as she left for her trip to Victor Harbor and, as the sound of her car faded, her family faded with it. They all milled around the back gate as if they were rudderless.
Milt took a position in front of them and clasped his large hands together as if he was about to say his prayers.
“You girls will have to step up while your mother’s away.” He eyeballed each of his daughters.
“That’s a given,” Bree said.