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CHAPTER
43
Kirsty knocked at the front door of the homestead, wishing she’d had a lot more sleep and some alone time on the drive up to practise what she wanted to say to Joe.
Nobody answered, but she could hear woofing from out back of the house. Was Gus back? Joe would be happy.
She smiled a little. Perhaps Amy had staged a rescue, and uncle and niece had driven to Sydney with mud on their cheeks and crowns of hibiscus wrapped around their hair.
‘Nobody home. Let’s go,’ said a tight voice behind her.
She turned and looked at Terri. ‘Are you okay, Mum?’
‘Sure, fine, yes.’ Her mother bit her lip. ‘Actually, maybe not.’ Terri’s voice had developed a wobble and she was looking pale beneath the make-up she’d applied before dawn that morning in the truck stop south of Inverell, where they’d stopped for a sleep and a shower. ‘It’s harder coming back than I’d thought. I was so young the last time I was here. Young and full of myself and I didn’t care about much, to be honest.’
Kirsty tucked her hand into her mother’s arm. ‘We all think like that when we’re young, Mum.’
‘Not you, honey. You always cared about everything.’
That wasn’t totally true. She’d alwaysworriedabout everything, which was different. Worrying about everything made you stop yourself from caring. It had taken her a long time to work that out.
‘Come on, I don’t think anyone’s home, but let’s go check out the stable in case he’s out back. I left things badly … it’d be easier to talk to him here alone than bumping into him at the muster tomorrow, surrounded by the matchmakers of Clarence.’
‘What do you mean, matchmakers?’
Keeping her hand in her mother’s arm, Kirsty filled her in on Joe’s tragic hero status as they made their way around the house, and how the committee members had plans to rectify his loveless life. She noticed the grass of the honeymoon paddock seemed greener, the old ironbark fences prettier; and the red dirt and gravel track crunched in a familiar way under her boots. Magnificent clouds rolled above the distant ranges, and she felt ridiculously pleased to be back.
She was also being ridiculously sentimental. She’d been gone less than a week, for heaven’s sake, not a year.
Not a lifetime, like her mother had. ‘Does it seem familiar?’ she said.
Her mother looked around. ‘The house, yes, although I didn’t spend much time there. Trevor’s mother was kind of disapproving, always bustling over to the caravan in her apron and asking me if I’d eaten enough fruit, or if my parents knew what I was up to.’
Kirsty smiled. ‘Just what a rebellious nineteen-year-old wants to hear, right?’
Terri let out a short laugh. ‘Right.’
They turned the corner at the water tank and an ecstatic bundle of apricot fur began leaping up and down inside the dog run next to the chooks. ‘Hello, Gussy!’ she called. ‘Joe must be out,’ she said to her mum. ‘He only locks the dog up when he’s not here.’
A white sedan was parked just beyond the stable, and she could see a pair of red thongs on the steps of Mount Barney. Guests, perhaps?
‘You can see the cottages from here, Mum,’ she said, as she slipped her hand into the latch of the dog run and let the big hairy beast loose. ‘That’s the one I stayed in over there, the old railway station I told you about.’
‘It’s all so pretty,’ said Terri. ‘And yes, so are you.’ Gus had sat on his haunches right in front of her, in his typical pat-me-or-trip-over-me welcome.
‘I’ll just check in the stable,’ said Kirsty. ‘If Joe’s not there, then we’ll have to go visit the plane uninvited.’ Which wouldn’t be the first time, after all.
She left her mum inspecting the chooks and ducked through Dobbin’s half-door into the stable. The workshop was messier than usual, and wood offcuts were spilled around the drop saw as though Joe had been cutting in a hurry with no time to clean up. She spared a glance at the whiteboard, which had been scrubbed clean of reno jobs and covered with farmwork chores.Clear out weeds under the southern macadamia crop; Check stakes on the avo seedling; Buy horse feed; Call Hogey about the tractor gears.
Those she could understand … typical busy farmer’s day. The notes in the corner were a little odd, though.AGB sell short at 1.06. CIX put option expires 30 days. KLO average price holding steady? Do risk assessment.
What? Was this horse betting jargon, perhaps? Was this how Joe had gambled away his home?
She was tempted to scrub the notes off with her finger; if he was gambling again, then the pressure on her to get the Wirraway into the safe hands of the museum had just ramped up.
Carol’s dastardly plan was all they had; that, and tomorrow’s promised front page ofThe Northern Starwith their article on rescuing a local war hero’s plane.
She was heading for the door when she spied a dog-eared book with dozens of Post-it notes sticking out from its pages. The title made her frown …The Bondi Beach Investor: How to Trade Shares and Make a Profit. But the author’s name made her freeze.
