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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

‘It’s okay,’ Leon said. ‘We’re done. I’m just heading out.’ Miki took his payment, her brother watching like a hawk guarding prey. It was unsettling. Leon pocketed his change and smiled at her as if nothing was out of the ordinary. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you another time.’ Poor kid. Her brother didn’t cut her much slack.

He ate his fish and chips on a bench seat further down the street, surprised to discover Miki had given him two pieces of fish when he’d only paid for one. He couldn’t work out when she’d added the extra. Hadn’t he been watching her batter the fish? He was sure he’d seen her every move.

While he was eating, Max came down the street with Rosie, whose belly seemed even bigger today. The kid tied the dog outside the takeaway, went inside and came out with a bulging bag of lollies. Leon waved, but Max didn’t see him—he was too busy plunging a hand in the bag to pull out a sweet.

Two other boys arrived while Max was untying the dog: a skinny kid like Max, and an older boy with a pimply face. When the bigger boy tapped Max on the shoulder, Max gave him a handful of lollies. Then Max high-fived the smaller boy and took off up the street with the dog.

Something about Max’s rapid departure made Leon think he didn’t like the big boy. Looking at his smug face, Leon decided he didn’t like him either.

5

5

The old people’s home where Grandpa lived was down by the water, a fifteen-minute drive from Leon’s new town. It was an imposing building that overlooked the wide silver stretch of the river: a view probably wasted on a good portion of its inhabitants. Leon felt bad that he hadn’t visited in years, but he hated the place. It was the smell. When he opened the door, there it was: the stench of disinfectant, musty clothes and sour skin, exactly the same as last time. He hated the decor too—it tried hard to be cheery but was fake and depressing, just one step away from a hospital.

In the foyer, he realised he’d forgotten the way to Grandpa’s room, so he had to ask at reception. The woman behind the desk was plump and middle-aged. Her name tag read Maryanne, and she was all red-lipstick smiles as she led him down the corridor. Leon ran a hand along the railing, which was there to help shipwrecked oldies who’d lost their sea legs. The walls were white, and it was deathly quiet. Was anyone alive in here? Maybe they were sleeping. Maybe it was that time of day.

Maryanne pointed out Grandpa’s room, then retreated, her dimples deepening. ‘He’ll be so happy to see you.’