“I can do it.” Bree looked begrudgingly at her dad but he ducked away, making a big show of inspecting the doorframe.
“I’m happy to help.”
At least Kate was smiling again. Bree knew how difficult this pregnancy was for her. She could relate to her lack of enthusiasm for a baby. Being a mother wasn’t how Bree saw her future either. Parenthood wasn’t something she’d discussed with Owen. She had no idea what his feelings were on the subject of children. They weren’t at the stage of making any kind of commitment but now she wondered when the right time was to broach such an important topic.
Kate and Sean had gone into it in detail when their likelihood of becoming parents naturally had been almost zero. They’d been firm in their decision to ignore IVF and have a childless future. Discovering she was pregnant must have been a huge shock for Kate. Working together on the farm paperwork would be a useful distraction, like working together on the tennis court had been this morning.
“Okay, thanks,” Bree said. “I’ll change out of these wet things first.”
The den door opened and Laura came out. As soon as she saw her dad her hands went to her hips. “Haven’t you put that door back yet? I need to start dinner and you’re making a racket and letting all the warm air out.” She went into the kitchen. “It’s Granny roast night you know.”
Milt muttered something under his breath.
“I’d forgotten Granny would be here tonight.” Kate had come back down the passage. She had that guarded look again. “I don’t want to tell her about the baby. You know how much she adores them. I’m not ready for that.”
“Whatever you say, love.” Milt patted her shoulder. “We’ll leave it to you.”
“Your lunch is still here, Bree.” Laura came back to the door carrying a plate with a sandwich covered in plastic wrap. They all turned to look at her.
“What?” she said.
“Remember to keep your mouth shut about the baby when Granny comes,” Bree said.
“I told you I can keep a secret.” Laura shoved the plate at Bree and strode back into the kitchen.
“Thanks.” Bree’s stomach gave a welcome growl. She was hungry.
Laura had the roast on and the vegetables ready to go. She was planning dessert but so far nothing appealed and it was hard to concentrate with her dad muttering and mumbling between intermittent hammering. He’d stopped for the moment and was inspecting the inside of the doorframe. She flicked idly through the pile of cookbooks she’d spread out on the table in front of her. She was tired of being responsible for meals: organising the meat, the fresh fruit and vegetables, cooking every night, cleaning up the inevitable mess that seemed to come from her every attempt. This wasn’t why she’d given up hairdressing and come home. Although she was still no closer to resolving what the future looked like, she knew it wasn’t being a full-time cook for the family.
“How’s it going, love?”
She hadn’t heard her dad come up beside her.
“I’m trying to find something for dessert but I’m fed-up. I don’t know how Mum does it. She makes it look so easy.”
Milt sat down beside her. “Years of experience. And she does enjoy cooking.”
“So do I. But not day after day, night after night, trying to come up with something interesting.” Laura put her head in her hands and groaned. “What am I going to do?”
“Are we still talking about dinner or something else?”
Laura groaned again. “My life is a mess.”
“Not from where I’m sitting.”
She looked up, tugged at her hair. “You’ve seen my hair, my tattoo.”
“Yes, I have. You’re braver than me on both counts.”
“Stupider, you mean.”
“I don’t think that’s a word.” He grinned. “That’s all superficial stuff anyway. You said the hair would wash out and you were right, it’s fading already. I guess you’re stuck with the tat, although I believe there’re ways to have them removed if that’s what you want. But they’re not the sum of who you are, love. You’re bright, creative and talented in so many ways.”
He was studying her with such love in his look it brought a lump to her throat. “I’ve thrown in a perfectly good job and now I’ve got nothing.”
“Don’t ever say that.” He put a hand on her shoulder, gripped it firmly. “You’ve worked hard to learn a trade and you’re good at it. It’s not as if you’ve lost those skills just because you’ve left where you work. There are plenty of other salons. I never liked that bloke you worked for. You can do better.”
“You don’t really know him.” She’d never realised her dad had given her job a lot of thought, let alone taken any notice of Gareth.
“We called in to visit you a few times and I got his measure. The way he spoke to his staff wasn’t right, as if you all belonged to him. He was a bully, Laura.”
“You never said.”
“I knew you’d work it out eventually.” His phone rang. He took it from his pocket. “Hello, Phil.” He nodded. “Right, okay, thanks. I’ll come and check it out.” He ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket. “Sheep on the highway. Phil from across the road thinks they could be ours. I’d better go and check. Will you be okay?”
“I’ll find something to cook.”
“I meant about the bigger picture. You can take as long as you want to decide what you want to do. You might even get something local to tide you over but don’t give up on your chosen career yet. You’ve got a world of talent and not every salon has a Gareth. Maybe there’d be a way to start your own business. We gave Kate money towards her house and we’d be happy for your share to be put towards a business if you came up with a plan. I’m sure your mum would agree.”
Tears brimmed in Laura’s eyes.
“Don’t worry if it’s not something you’d want to do though.” Milt gave her a concerned look.
“I’d just never thought about my own business.”
He shrugged. “Why not? You’d need to present me a decent plan if I was going to invest money in it but I’m sure you’re capable. Kate’s good at that sort of thing. You should talk it over with her.” He patted his stomach as he stood up. “And don’t worry about dessert. We don’t need it. Your mum only cooks it sometimes.”
Laura dragged her thoughts from her own worries to her mum. “Is she all right, Dad?”
He’d begun to move away but he stopped, turned back. “Last I heard, yes. She misses us but she was in need of some time away.”
“I miss her too.” Laura sucked in her lip, fighting back tears again.
“I know, love.” He came back, brushed a kiss across her forehead. “We all miss her but sometimes you need to give the ones you love some space.”
Laura’s heart lurched. Her dad had the same sort of look after Pa had died, sad and lost. “She’s coming back soon though, isn’t she?”
“I hope so but I’m not sure what her timeline is yet. And don’t worry about the food. I appreciate what you’ve done and so do your sisters.” He lifted his hand in a wave. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
She listened as he let himself out the back door then she started flicking through cookbooks again. A wave of cool air drifted across the kitchen. The door was still off its hinges. She wasn’t sure what she was going to make for dessert or how she was going to keep the kitchen warm for dinner but at least her dad had given her something to hope for. Even though her mum wasn’t here he was on her side and that was a comforting feeling.
Bree shifted her plate to sit on top of the empty mugs so she could check out the pile of papers underneath. She’d munched on the sandwiches while she and Kate had worked their way through accounts and invoices, diaries and notes, sorting through three months of paperwork. Outside the rain continued to fall. They’d had to turn on the overhead lights and the desk lamp to be able to read. The dining room was freezing and they’d huddled in front of a small heater blowing warmth around their feet.
K
ate sat back from a paperclipped pile of invoices, blew on her hands and rubbed them together. “If this got done every week it wouldn’t be so bad.” She picked up the next pile of papers, bank statements they’d just printed.
“I know.” Bree sighed. “Mum usually does it more often but with everything that’s been going on lately…”
“It’s freezing in here and the light’s terrible. I don’t know how Mum stands it.”
“There’s the desk in the kitchen. We talked about moving the computer there when we got wireless. I don’t know why we didn’t. Something to do with cables.”
Kate didn’t look as if she was listening. She kept sifting through the pages in front of her, the pile of bank statements. She paused to look closer then moved on.
“There shouldn’t be any surprises though,” Bree said. “Everything matches up, doesn’t it?”
Kate stopped, looked at a page, went back to another.
“What are you looking at?” Bree asked.
“Well, I’m wondering why Granny is getting two monthly payments.”
“Where?” Bree reached for the statements and Kate handed them over, tapping the top of the page with her finger.
Bree glanced at the entries. On the first day of the month there was a transfer to their grandmother’s new account. “That’s Granny’s living allowance. That account was set up after Pa died.” She looked further along the dates. A few days later a larger amount was transferred to an account in Pa’s name. She lifted the pages until she came to the start of the previous month and saw the same entries.
“So unless the bank has a direct line to heaven I’m assuming that’s a joint account that Granny can access.” Kate tapped the page with her finger again.
Bree looked at her sister. “You think she’s double dipping?”
Kate shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m only guessing, but the amount going to the old account is slightly larger so it was probably Granny and Pa’s joint allowance. Maybe when the new account was set up they overlooked stopping payments to the old one.”
“Hell.” Bree sifted through the papers. “That’s probably been going on for…” She glanced up at the calendar. “Nearly a year. That’s a lot of money.”
“Maybe it’s just sitting there.”
“You think Granny’s forgotten it.”
“Or she doesn’t know the account’s still open.”
“Mum pays most of her accounts.”
“I see that. Talk about double dipping. The farm pays for everything and she gets an allowance.”
“She buys her own food and clothes. She’d have the hairdresser, gifts.” Bree stopped at that. Her grandmother had always been generous with her gift-giving but since Pa had died she only gave cards for birthdays and they’d all got chocolates last Christmas. Bree had assumed she’d decided to cut back and keep it simple.
“Wish I had her budget.” Kate was staring at the bank statements again.
“Statements are all online these days and I doubt she looks at them. She may have assumed one account was closed when the other was opened.” Bree tugged open the drawer beneath the computer, forcing them both back in their chairs.
“What are you doing?”
“Mum would have set up the account for Granny.” Bree reached in and felt around at the back of the drawer. “She keeps a little book with usernames and passwords.”
“Surely not for bank accounts?” Kate looked horrified.
“Not hers, but I wonder if she might have written down Granny’s in case she had to access it.”
Bree tugged out the little book. It was slim and well worn. Her mother had jotted down the usernames and passwords for every online shop, business and rewards program she’d ever subscribed to. Bree began to flip through the pages of notes in her mother’s neat print with the occasional hardly legible entry in between. Her dad used the little book as well but she could see nothing that looked like it referred to Granny. She flicked to the back and there it was, her grandmother’s new account details. She kept looking and found other entries: Mum’s share portfolio, Dad’s share portfolio, and then finally jammed between the password for Nespresso and one for Myer was the details of Granny and Pa’s joint account. She turned to Kate.
“It’s here.” She minimised the spreadsheet on the computer screen and brought up the internet browser.
“You’re not going to log into Granny’s account?”
“Why not? She won’t know and at least we’ll be able to see if the money’s still there or not.”
Bree opened the shortcut to their online banking page and typed in the number and password for Granny and Pa’s joint account.
The screen opened up and they both leaned forward.
“It’s empty,” Kate said.
Bree opened the transaction history. It only showed the last month, the money going in and then the money going out. Beside her Kate gasped. The transfer out went to an account in the name of C L Daly.
“Aunty Connie.” Kate’s voice was a whisper.
Bree extended the dates for the transaction history to include the last year and there it all was in black and white. Each month a payment had gone in and had accumulated untouched until three months ago when the whole amount had been transferred to C L Daly. Since then, a few days after the money was paid in it was transferred to Connie’s account.
“How could Mum and Dad have missed this?” Kate asked.
“Maybe they haven’t missed it. Maybe they know about it.” Bree tried to remember what they’d overheard her dad and Granny talking about last Sunday morning when they’d all listened outside the kitchen door. “Granny was talking to Dad about Connie wanting more from the property.”
“Well, these bank transfers look like she’s getting it.”
They looked at each other. “We could stop the payments,” Bree said.
“Not without talking to Dad first. There might be some explanation we don’t know about.”
They both stood up. Their afternoon at the computer had been punctuated by banging and sawing and the occasional burst of swearing but it had gone quiet out in the passage now. The kitchen door was still lying prone against the wall as they walked past. The tantalising smell of roast pork wafted out to greet them. Bree glanced at Kate but she didn’t seem bothered by it. Laura was alone in the kitchen, bending over the open door of the combustion fire.
“Where’s Dad?” Bree asked.
Laura’s face and jumper were streaked with blotches of white flour. “He got a call from the neighbours across the highway. There were some sheep out so he’s gone to investigate.” She frowned. “I thought he’d be back by now. It’s nearly dinnertime. Granny should be here soon too.”
As if Laura had conjured her up, Olive’s call reached them from the back door.
She stopped in the empty frame of the kitchen door. “What’s going on here?”
“Dad’s trying to fix the door so it stays closed,” Laura said.
Olive harrumphed. “His father didn’t have any luck either. That door has always had a mind of its own.” She strode into the kitchen. “Is he going to put it back tonight? Hard to keep the heat in here with no door.”
“He’s gone to check on some sheep.”
Once more Olive harrumphed. Bree studied her closely, trying to imagine her sweet, sensible granny doing something as underhanded as siphoning off money to Connie.
“How much rain have we had here? It’s been steady all afternoon in town.”
“Close to an inch last time I checked,” Bree said. “If it keeps up it might be another day or so before we can start seeding.”
“Very good,” Olive said decisively as if Bree was responsible for the rain that had fallen. “What are you cooking, Laura?” Olive moved over to inspect Laura’s mess spread along the benchtops.
“I was going to make lemon dumplings but we don’t have any lemons so I’ve changed it to golden syrup dumplings.”
“Oh, I used to make them a lot. Easy way to f
eed a family.” Olive looked proudly at Laura. “I haven’t had them for years.”
“Well, you haven’t tried them yet. They might not be any good.”
Olive tickled Laura under the chin. “If I can make them anyone can.”
Bree heard the back door open, waited for the bang but it didn’t come and then her dad appeared in the doorway. “Hello.”
“Thank goodness you’re back,” Laura said. “The roast’s nearly ready to carve.”
“I’ll wash up and be in.” He went out then came back and stood in the empty doorframe. “Sorry about the door. I’ll fix it tomorrow.”
Olive gave another soft harrumph before she busied herself setting the table.
Milt’s phone rang. He glanced at it, stabbed at the screen and put it to his ear. “Hello, Natalie.” Behind him four women all stopped what they were doing and listened.
When Milt answered within seconds of Natalie pressing call she shifted anxiously in her seat, feeling even more guilty for her long silence. She’d hardly given her family a thought for days. Earlier the wind had dropped to a gentle breeze as Rosie had predicted. They’d had a successful fishing expedition and now Natalie sat in the shade of the cabin verandah, fresh from a shower and wearing the dress she’d bought in Broome. It was a change from a week of nothing but bathers, shorts and t-shirts. The Model Wife sat on the table beside her. She’d found it again when she’d searched her all-but-empty case for a pair of earrings.
She’d picked it up, sat it on her lap, trying to resist the urge to open it but couldn’t help herself. It was her past, part of her Before Anomaly life but also an heirloom, even if a desecrated one, and she’d made it into a record of so many happy times. Eventually she succumbed and slowly turned the pages, reading the chapter headings, the words that had been scribbled in laughter and in anger over the years. She’d paused at the photo of the house – not just a house, her home, her family’s home – then stopped at the career page where she’d stuck her individual school staff photo. It was dated 1999, the same year Laura started school. Natalie had smiled at her hair – it had been longer then and she remembered she’d had it styled the day before the photo so it was all fluffed out around her face. How young she looked.
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