She boiled the kettle and made a coffee to appease him, approaching his room with a shiver of fear. He was at his desk, papers spread before him, Father’s black leather folder to one side. As she came in, he snapped the folder shut. ‘What do you want?’

‘I made this for you.’ She offered the coffee.

He ignored her and picked up a coloured brochure, waving it about. ‘I’m thinking about buying a boat.’

Stunned, Miki stood with the mug held out in her hand. ‘What for?’ Kurt had never been into boats.

‘To go boating.’

‘But we never go boating.’

‘We will when we have a boat.’

What about the farm they were saving for, their future escape from the shop? It would never eventuate if Kurt kept spending their money. ‘How much will it cost?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know … I want a good one, maybe twenty thousand.’

Knots tangled in her stomach. She couldn’t hold back. ‘What about our farm?’

‘What farm?’

‘The one we’re saving to buy.’

Kurt shrugged as if he’d forgotten it. ‘A farm is a big investment. Saving that much money takes time.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What are you going to do with that coffee?’

She set the mug on the desk, trying to still her tremoring hand. Her eyes were drawn to the brochure with its glossy picture of a gleaming white boat. ‘Where will we go boating?’

‘On the river.’

‘Will we stop going to the forest?’

‘I don’t know. Too many people hanging round there right now.’

‘But I like the forest.’

‘You’ll like the water too. Now get lost. Too many questions.’

On the cusp of crying, Miki withdrew to her room. What was Kurt doing? First the new ute and now a boat. Where was he getting the money? Had he taken out a loan? She’d heard the women discussing finances over coffees in the shop. They’d said you could be in debt and keep borrowing if you could convince someone to lend you more money. Was that what Kurt was doing? Why wouldn’t he include her in decisions? She was eighteen now. Would he ever give her a chance?

Dejected, she slumped onto her bed. What could she do? Her brother controlled everything and told her nothing. And now he might force her away from the forest. The thought brought forth tears, and she dashed them away with her sleeve. She must not let him destroy her. Staying internally strong was her one small triumph.

She lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, and gradually her breathing slowed and her angst eased. It was best to think about other things, like the fact her tree had made it onto the news—another type of victory. It changed the status of her secret forest forever, but if this was required to save the tree, it was worth it. Her sacrifice was everyone’s gain.