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What thehell?
Gambler’s support 101: raffles, cow pad lotto,anythingwas a no-no. Kirsty elbowed her way forward and arrived beside her mother just in time to snatch the bunch of raffle tickets from her hand.
‘How could you?’ she hissed, and she wasn’t sure who she was hissing to: Terri, who should know better, or Joe.
‘Excuse me?’
‘We don’t want these.’ She shoved the tickets back at him, ignoring the shushing noises she was getting from the people around them.
He looked confused, as well he might, because this was her problem, not his. Terri’s and her problem. And—shit—he had no idea that the woman he’d just sold tickets to was her gambling-addict mother.
She was overreacting again. She was getting emotional and ragged in the chest. Again. But this had nothing to do with her long-ago broken arm, and no-one was manhandling her … thiswas her, upset now, in this moment, because her mother had let herself down.
He pulled two twenty-dollar notes from his bucket. ‘Your money,’ he said, handing it over. ‘I’m sorry if there’s a problem here.’
Terri looked at Kirsty. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I was just so excited at the fundraising idea and I wanted to help, and then the tickets were right there, and … I know. I didn’t think.’
‘Give the money as a donation, Mum. You don’t need the tickets.’
‘Mum?’ said Joey. ‘This is your mum?’
‘If you’ve finished upstaging me, Joey Miles, then we’ll get on with this presentation, shall we?’ Thelma’s voice cut through the room and Joey’s eyes left hers after a searching look.
‘The stage is yours, Thelma,’ he said.
Now wasn’t the time to say anything, not with a hundred pairs of eyes on them and finalists’ names being read out. She grabbed her mother’s hand and hauled her out of the marquee. The raindrops had turned into full on rain and the crowd had thinned. Whoever wasn’t watching the awards had either gone home or retired to the bar.
She was glad of it. She didn’t need an audience, and the rain on her face was masking the tears. They stood in a puddle, huddled together, her mother’s hand still in hers. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I’m sorry I embarrassed you like that, in front of everyone.’
‘Don’t be sorry, pet. You’re right, I am the last person on the planet who should be buying raffle tickets, but I wanted to support you. I know how much you’ve got your heart set on rescuing this plane.’
Kirsty closed her eyes. ‘Risking money to win big on something isn’t supporting me, Mum. It’s a game of chance, and there’s always more losers than winners.’
‘No, pet, that’s not what I meant. Here … look at this.’
She frowned down at the torn stub her mother still held in her hand. ‘I don’t need a meat tray, or a wheelbarrow full of grog, or whatever it is they—’
Oh. Her eyes zeroed in on the small print spanning the bottom of the ticket.Funds raised to be split between the Save the Platypus Habitat Fund and the Clarence Museum & Historical Society’s current project: transportation of local WWII hero’s vintage plane to the Wacol Military Museum.
Her heart gave a thump in her chest that felt as momentous as thunder. Clarence was doing this for her? But … was the plane hers? Was the bank no longer a threat? And—her heart gave a rapid thud—Joeymusthave known what was written on the tickets he had printed. He must have approved it!
A growl of thunder made itself heard above the applause ringing out of the marquee and a skittering of hail danced across the roof. Of course it was hailing. She needed a moment to think, so the sky had decided to fall in. A lot, it seemed, had changed in the few days she’d been away.
Holy hell. She had a terrible thought.
‘Mum, when we left the old cowshed yesterday, can you remember if I closed the door?’
Her mum shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t notice.’
The Wirraway. If the hail was pounding in from the west—from the direction of the Nightcap Ranges—it’d damage the beautiful artwork Daisy had just finished restoring. She couldn’t let that happen, not now, when theDoreen Annewas so close to being saved.
‘I’m going to check. If I don’t come back and you need to leave, Ken will give you a ride to the hotel motel.’
‘But, pet, the weather! It’s too stormy to go driving now.’
