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Back The Orchardist's Daughter Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. PRAISE
  3. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  4. DEDICATION
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. PART I SEEDS
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. PART II GERMINATION
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. PART III GROWTH
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. PART IV UNDERSTOREY
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. EPILOGUE
  57. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Leon didn’t have a jersey anymore—his was covered with blood and saliva. For the past fifteen minutes he’d been bare-chested and now his sweat had dried cold. He offered to take a spell on the interchange bench, but that went down like a lead balloon.

Toby pointed a finger at him. ‘You’re on, Parkie, whether you like it or not. Someone give him a jersey,’ he yelled at the bench. One of the younger blokes, recently back from injury, did as he was told—a jersey came over the fence.

They took a quick jog round the field to warm up, and then it was on. But the team was more shaken than they’d realised, and there was desperation in their play that didn’t help their game. Leon had stiffened during the break and couldn’t find his pace, and Toby was out for revenge and kept giving away free kicks. The other team took advantage and started kicking goals.

In the end, the opposition won by three points, a total injustice. Leon’s team came off dejected and sore. They were in the dressing-rooms when word came through that Mooney had a nasty concussion but should be okay—he’d had a brain scan and they’d ruled out anything more serious. But it was a sombre team that trailed from the field and headed home instead of the pub. It didn’t seem right to drown their sorrows without Mooney.

Leon was limping across the oval to his car when Toby rocked up beside him. The big man looked rattled. ‘Everything okay?’ Leon asked, stopping.

Toby ran a hand over his bald head and shuffled awkwardly. ‘Hey, Parkie. Thanks for helping with Mooney today.’

‘No worries. I hope he’s all right. It was a shit tackle. That guy ought to be suspended. Robbo should put in a report.’

‘Good point. I reckon he should.’

Leon adjusted his bag on his shoulder, wondering what Toby wanted.

‘Mooney was a bastard to you today,’ Toby said. ‘It was good of you to help.’

‘Not a problem.’

‘Nah, he was a prick. I wouldn’t have helped him if I was you. You’re a bloody hero.’

Leon didn’t see himself as a hero. He’d assisted Mooney out of a sense of duty, but it was really Liz and the kids that needed help. He felt a twinge of guilt—he ought to have done something about that by now, given he’d known about Mooney’s domestic antics for some time.

But Toby was grinning. ‘Reckon you’d help a leper,’ he said.

Leon smiled. ‘Yep. I reckon I would.’

Toby reached out and grabbed his hand in a solid shake. ‘Fuck off then, Parkie. You’re a better man than I am.’

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