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Pulling herself together, she gathered the children’s books and slid them into their backpacks. ‘Quickly, kids, we should get home before it gets dark.’ She sent a meaning look at Grace as the children clattered their way down the back steps. ‘We need to talk. About the twins coming here.’
‘No hurry. I mean, there’s no reason why Morgan would come here during clinic hours.’
Becca stared at the older woman. Did she want Morgan to find out? It had been twelve years of not acknowledging their true role, even if some people who remembered Morgan might have guessed.
Maybe she wanted the secrecy to end. Becca was long over it, but she’d given her word, so it was up to Grace to make the next move. Every now and then, the fear of turning into Grace woke Becca in a cold sweat. Yet how could she avoid it? The woman was the ultimate in respectable and Becca had spent too many years trying to gain her approval.
Evading Grace’s worried gaze, she bade them goodnight, surprised when Ned guided her out to the front verandah. His face under the thick head of pure white hair was flushed, showing up the scarring where his fair skin had been treated for skin cancers. He’d given Morgan his colouring, only the long aristocratic nose coming from Grace’s side of the family. The older woman’s hair was still determinedly blonde, in a short streaky bob framing her narrow face with the faded brown eyes and thin lips.
Becca hesitated at the top step, staring across at the neighbouring property soon to house Morgan Cavanaugh. Too close for comfort.
‘Seriously, Becca, don’t let it get to you. Morgan is always fair.’
The silence hung in the air as Becca held her tongue, conscious of the children retrieving their bikes from the side of the house. Ned cleared his throat, his natural shyness showing in the mottled flush on his cheeks.
‘I’m not sure exactly what went on between the two of you. But it was more than twelve years ago. You’d be a fool to hang onto a grudge for all that time.’
‘No grudges on my part, Ned. You know I’ve always been grateful for the help you and Grace have been with the kids. You’re the closest thing to grandparents they have after all.’
Sensing the irony in her statement, Ned didn’t argue. ‘We appreciate your sacrifices too, Becca. Don’t ever doubt it.’
Shrugging, she mounted the bike as the two children waved and yelled out their farewells.
‘Bye, Grandpa Ned, see you tomorrow.’
‘See you tomorrow, billy lids. Bye, Becca.’
Reluctantly she smiled, seeing his worried face ease. ‘See you tomorrow, Ned. And thanks for the reassurance.’
The winter sky still shone dusky blue as they made their way down the driveway and turned away from the town. The air seemed hazy, as if a car had recently stirred up the dust of the unpaved road. Instinctively, she searched out the Maiden place next door, seeing lights come on in the old homestead. Morgan was home.
Apparently, he didn’t want to live with his parents. Grace had plenty to say on the subject, but it was interesting to note she didn’t manage to overrule Morgan. There was no sign of a car, but he could easily have parked out of sight in one of the old sheds behind the house.
They must have missed him on his way home by minutes. With the two driveways so close, he could have seen her and the children easily, despite the encroaching winter twilight. Not sure if she were glad or sorry, she turned away from the road, down the rough, gravel-strewn track that served as a driveway.
Compared to the other properties across the road, the old fibro building with the battered, rust speckled roof was quite a comedown. She’d have liked to do more but keeping the mortgage under control took all her spare money. Grace had suggested she sell it and rent in town. Or further afield. It had been a tempting thought, especially once she had her qualifications.
A kelpie-cross barked enthusiastically from under the house and ran out to the length of the chain, ready to greet the children. Edward went to pat the panting dog, releasing her from the chain. Kirsty had been given to both the children but was his by proxy. Gabby yanked her backpack off the bike and tramped into the house with a pout that didn’t bode well.
Grabbing her own bag from the carrier, Becca followed her daughter inside, puzzled about what brought on the moodiness in the usually equable girl. Her initial plan to deal with it straight up was halted when a crash came from the kitchen. Dumping the bag in the hall, she made her way to the back of the house.
The kitchen seemed empty at first, but a scuffling noise from the other side of the old red and white Laminex table alerted her to the source of the breakage.
‘Hi, Dan. What’s the problem?’
The man scrambled up, a good head taller than Becca and carrying extra weight on his midriff.
‘I dropped the bickie barrel. I’m sorry, Bec.’
His hand swiped across his upper lip and automatically she handed him a tissue. It was pointless trying to remonstrate. He couldn’t help his clumsiness. Tomorrow she’d buy a plastic container to replace the old china one dating from her childhood.
‘Don’t worry about it, Dan. I can cook some more tonight while you watch TV.’
Carefully steering him away from the shattered china and crushed biscuits, she sat him down at the table. ‘What did you do at work today?’
‘We sorted heaps of stuff. Gordon found a stack of old Bee Gee’s records to put in the shop.’
He rambled on, listing the different items the charity run recycling depot had brought to light while Becca cleaned up the mess. At least Dan enjoyed working with his mates at the facility, which offered supervised employment opportunities to people with an intellectual disability.
