by Joy Dettman
‘I didn’t say it to upset you, or embarrass you. That’s the last thing I ever want to do, Stell, but – ’ Her head was down. Her hands played with the glass. ‘Christ. Where do I go from here?’
The old town clock began its slow count to twelve. An eerie sound, that last long call of the night. They stood listening, their eyes turned to the window.
‘It’s very late, Steve. I had no idea.’
‘Yeah. That’s sort of the point I’ve been trying to get to. It’s getting pretty late for both of us.’ His next words came quickly, but his eyes did not leave the window. ‘Templeton’s shed has never been closed in its life, love.’
She flinched, backed away. He took the glass from her hand and he drank the water, because his throat was dry and because it was something to do with his hands. He licked his lips and tried again. ‘I reckon I’ll put a cement floor in there for you at the weekend. Young Glen will help me. He’s always looking for extra money. With ready-mix we’ll have it done in a day.’
Silence. Only the bowed head, shaking, shaking, denying. Only a night-bird calling from the jacaranda.
‘And . . . and I’ll say this once, then it’s up to you. I won’t mention it again.’ His hand gestured to her lost waistline and she turned her back, but he caught her hand, held it. ‘I’m a whiz at growing things, Stell, and so are you. I reckon that if we pooled our talent, we could grow things the way they were meant to grow. We’d give them plenty of TLC and plenty of room to grow as straight and true as those jacarandas out there.’
She shook her head.
In silence, he watched tears creep from beneath her closed lids. He watched them trickle down her nose. He watched them shaken away, and when he could stand it no longer, his large hands cupped her face and he kissed her wet cheek.
‘I’ve loved you since I was six years old, Stell.’
She shook her head.
‘No more shaking that head at me. I reckon I’ve been letting you get away with that for a bit too long.’ He kissed her again, but this time he found the corner of her lips.
‘So. So, the way I see it, Stell. We do the cementing at the weekend, then on Monday we take off to Sydney and give the old town something new to talk about for a while, eh?’
Screenings was in the bookshops the following November, Stella Templeton-Smith proudly emblazoned on the cover – in blue.
MORE BESTSELLING FICTION AVAILABLE FROM PAN MACMILLAN
Joy Dettman
Mallawindy
Ann Burton was born on a river bank the night her father tried to burn their house down.
Six years later her sister Liza disappears while they are staying at their uncle’s property. What Ann sees that day robs her of her memory and her speech.
A stroke of unexpected humanity releases Ann from her world of silence, and she escapes her anguished childhood, finding love and a new life away from Mallawindy. But there is no escape from the Burton family and its dark secrets. Ann must return to Mallawindy and confront the past if she is ever to be set free.
‘We ride the crests and troughs of the Burtons’ 30-year history with open mouths and saucer eyes . . . Dettman is an adept storyteller’
THE AGE
‘A highly competent and confident debut novel’
SUNDAY TELEGRAPH
‘A compelling story, well told . . . it holds promise of further enthralling fiction from its author’
CANBERRA TIMES
‘A stunning debut; a rich and engrossing read; a tale of page-turning suspense and mystery; a postmortem of family ties; all this and more, Mallawindy will grab you hook, line and sinker’
QUEENSLAND TIMES