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Once the clean-up was done, it was time to serve dinner. Grateful she’d put the chicken and vegetables in the crockpot before heading to work, she ladled out the thick casserole onto the plates.
‘Tea’s ready. Edward, Gabby.’
The two eleven-year-olds jostled in the doorway and Becca had to laugh. Twins were supposed to be like two halves of a whole but these two were poles apart. Although shorter than his sister by a hand span, Edward was the eldest by several minutes and never let his taller, lankier sister forget it.
Apart from his natural older brother dominance, he was the quiet one of the two, studious and a little shy. Gabby lived up to her name, usually talkative and sociable, a leader in her small clique but still competing on a level field with her brother academically.
They were different in colouring too, Edward with the same dark mahogany hair and golden-brown eyes of his mother, while Gabby, with her brilliant blue eyes and bright red mop curling over her ears, bore no resemblance to anyone in her family.
Dan’s blonde hair had a gingery tinge but there was no blood relationship, so it didn’t count. With a twinge of anxiety, she looked over at Dan, wondering how he’d react to Morgan’s return. He’d never mentioned his former friend in all the years since the accident. She wasn’t sure if he remembered him.
He did remember some things. He talked about the horse at the Maiden place and going blackberrying on the ridge behind the Cavanaugh homestead. She had to drag him out of the creek where the Durand’s property joined up with the national park a couple of times a month, mostly during the summer. Usually muddy and fully clothed and disappointed about not catching any yabbies.
He finished the chicken and she handed him a spoon to eat the gravy. Only a few more weeks and the responsibility would end. The department had promised when they finished building the new supported accommodation at Bialga that there’d be a place for Dan. It was only a few blocks from the recycling depot and would save him the half hour bus trip each way. All his friends lived in the neighbouring town and there were more opportunities to socialise in the larger centre.
The opening to speak to Gabby came at the sink once Dan had vanished into his room to watch television. Edward took himself to the bedroom he shared with his sister to snatch some quiet time with his model making. They took it in turns to do the drying and Becca was grateful for the privacy the task gave her with each of the children. She was lucky to have her work at the clinic, but it meant less time in the evenings at home.
‘What’s it about, Gabby?’
‘What’s what about?’
So, it was going to be a battle. ‘Something’s bothering you. You’ve been sour on and off all evening.’
‘There’s nothing you can do about it.’
Becca seriously wondered if the china would survive as the plates rattled onto the shelf. Whatever had her daughter so worked up must be more serious than usual.
With a faint sigh she placed the heavy stoneware bowl on the rack. ‘How about you tell me, and we’ll see if we can find a solution.’
‘You can’t. It’s for the working bee on next Saturday. They want all the fathers to go. They plan to redo all the gardens. You couldn’t move one of those old sleepers they’ve got around the edges.’
Which was a massive understatement all things considered. Becca remembered the note coming home from the school. She planned to go, even if she made sandwiches and brewed tea and coffee for the workers. But it was the father thing bugging Gabby. Over the past year, more and more she’d displayed resentment when school functions required the presence of a father. Not that they were the only single parent family in town. Becca knew of several, including a single dad she remembered from school. People had tried to match them up.
Studying her daughter’s face, with the distinctive blue eyes above the overly long nose, Becca had a momentary qualm. But she had no options. Her path had been laid out for her nearly twelve years ago when she’d been forced into a choice that was no choice at all. Morgan’s return had only made it more imperative.
Everything had changed the night of the accident. They’d all been supposed to go to a party but it had turned into a blazing row instead, the moment Dan had left with his friends. She’d tried to explain, but she couldn’t tell him everything. Not knowing Dan would be back and would take it out on her in his usual way. It hadn’t mattered. Morgan preferred to believe Dan. They’d faced each other like bitter enemies for minutes that seemed like hours, until Morgan turned away dismissively, thrusting her away when she’d clung. She’d washed his touch from her skin fiercely, as if she could wash away the accusations. Washing away the tears, because she wouldn’t, couldn’t let Morgan know how his words had hurt.
Later, when he cooled down, she thought he’d see things differently. But first came the accident and there hadn’t been a later. He’d avoided her at Brittany’s funeral. The anger and disillusionment on his face had almost broken her heart. But it had taken his cold disdain afterwards to shatter it completely. At least her heart had stopped aching then. All that was left of it, an empty void and a tightness that sometimes woke her up breathless at night.
He’d gone back to Brisbane instead of staying for Christmas like usual. When she’d visited the homestead, Grace told her they planned on staying at the Gold Coast for the holidays. He’d changed his mobile number and her emails vanished into the ether.
The death of her mother shortly before the birth of the twins hadn’t stirred any feelings. Except perhaps a small amount of relief there would be no more pain for Emmy Bujold. She had known far too much suffering in her relatively short life. She’d been thirty-five, only six years older than Becca’s age now. Three years older than Morgan.
Eventually she’d rung Grace from the hospital in Brisbane after the twin’s premature birth. They’d struck the deal outside the paediatric intensive care unit after Grace had inspected the children. She’d acknowledged Morgan’s paternity without argument. Expecting a denial, Becca had agreed to her conditions without real thought for the future, grateful only that Gabby and Edward would be safe and cared for. She’d already accepted Morgan wasn’t going to be a part of their lives for the foreseeable future, so Grace’s conditions hadn’t seemed so difficult.
She’d given him her heart when she’d been just sixteen, perhaps long before, adoring him from the fringes of the neighbourhood clique. In return he treated her gently, not yelling at her like the other kids did when she followed them on their private excursions. He’d taught her to ride and let her drive the old ute around the property occasionally. She’d been too short at first so he’d had to do the pedals with her sitting on his lap doing the steering. As time passed, they’d spent hours together at his home, watching movies and talking books. Outside, he’d more or less ignored her in favour of his friends and his occasional short-lived girlfriends, until he went to boarding school, presumably finding distraction with the city girls.
When he came home for the holidays not long after she’d turned sixteen, he suddenly seemed to notice her as a girl. Teasing her, paying her small attentions and compliments. Still busy with his studies, he only came home occasionally, but he kept in touch by email and text. They talked about the future, compared ambitions and found them compatible, Morgan planning to be a doctor and Becca would be training as a registered nurse. Together they dreamed of travelling the world, using their skills in third world countries. Implicit in all was the suggestion they’d be man and wife.
It hadn’t been easy, nourishing a relationship on emails and phone calls and irregular visits. No wonder when they came together after months apart, they’d been unable to control the passion that flared between them. A weekend of loving exploration ending too quickly with his return to Brisbane. There’d been one more weekend they’d spent together and then she’d not seen him again until the fatal night when her heart had taken such a beating.
Only the birth of her children had mended it. In part, anyway. Part of it had gone forever, along with her youthful confidence and what little had remained of her trust in men. Morgan had been the one man she’d trusted. The one man she’d believed she could be herself with. To show her affectionate side. Which had worked against her in the end. He’d thought she was like that with other men. With Dan.
Becca shuddered, remembering the day Dan had caught her throwing up and asked if she was pregnant. She’d denied it but he’d realised she’d slept with Morgan. He’d been livid, his jealousy of Morgan fuelled to violence by his substance abuse, not being careful to keep his blows to places hidden by her clothes. She’d known at that moment she’d have to do something. Keeping her ailing mother free of stress wasn’t worth the risk when she had her baby to consider. Without Dan’s mother helping care for her mum, Becca could see her chances of finishing school dwindling to nothing but the cost was too high.
Then the accident happened and it all changed. Everything changed.
Now, confronted by her eleven-year-old daughter, the confidence she’d struggled so hard to rebuild wavered. She wondered whether the quieter Edward had the same fears and insecurities. Whether he felt short-changed by their situation. It wasn’t easy for any of them, living with Dan’s foibles. The house was tiny, with three smallish bedrooms, kitchen, bathroom and long narrow lounge room that was actually a closed in verandah.
