Page 22

What a joke.

Believe me, there was nothing good about that hellhole, and not a fucking shepherd in sight.

“After South America,” I go on, thrusting the memories out of my mind, “I went to Spain. That’s where I was living before I flew back to Aust—before I came home,” I correct myself hastily.

The silence in the car is deafening.

I mentally kick myself. The one thing that definitely still feels like home is my unerring ability to upset my mother.

Be honest. There are other things that feel like home, too. Nice things.

Things I didn’t even know I’d missed, like the huge, brilliant Australian sky. The way the earth always smells wild anduntamed. The magnificence of every dawn and sunset. The complete silence of night here, beneath a diamond carpet of stars.

I pull up on the red dirt outside the old weatherboard farm house. Dad’s car isn’t here, so he’s still out in the paddocks somewhere.

Small mercies.I’m not ready to face a two-person inquisition.

Mum makes no move to get out of the car. “South America,” she says finally. “Goodness.”

There wasn’t a lot of goodness going on for me back then, Suze.

I suppress a smile. I used to call my mother Suze all the time when I was a kid, just to piss her off.

God, I was a brat.

It’s a wonder she and Dad let me back in the front door at all.

“Spain sounds lovely, though.” She gives me a rather hopeful look. “Did you like it?”

“Yes.” At least I can be honest about that much. “I was studying art at a college in Malaga, which I loved. And I had a really good friend, Darya. She’s married now. About to have a baby. She wanted me to be godmother, actually.”

My throat suddenly closes over, making it difficult to talk. I blink back tears.

I miss Darya so much.

And right now she’s having her baby without me.

Part of me wants to fly straight back to Spain, this moment, and never leave her side again. And part of me thinks it’s better for everyone there if they never hear from me again.

I open the door and step out, more to hide my face than any other reason.

“Abby.” Mum climbs slowly down from the utility. “Dinner is already in the slow cooker, and I’ve had a very busy day.There’s a cold bottle of chardonnay in the fridge. Why don’t you open it, and we can sit out on the veranda?”

Seriously?

I can hardly refuse, given that this is the first genuine conversation we’ve had since I came back. But nor do I have a good story prepared if she starts asking too many questions.

Why the fuck didn’t I think this through properly? Get ready for the inquisition?

My mind whirls frantically as I go into the kitchen for the bottle and two glasses. I’m still coming up blank when I join Mum in the wide wicker chairs out on the veranda.

The two border collie dogs slumped at her feet give me a disdainful look as I sit down. They both joined the household after I left it years ago. I’m just a visitor to them, even if they’ve slightly mellowed toward me after three months in their domain. Dad has the cattle dogs out working with him and Jamie, my brother, who lives in the smaller house two paddocks over from this one.

“You said youweregoing to be godmother to your friend’s baby,” Mum says as I hand her a glass of wine.

Wow. Suze didn’t skip a beat on that one.

“Do I take that as you won’t be godmother anymore?” She casts me a brief sideways look, then goes back to staring out at the brown, dry paddocks, shimmering in the late-afternoon heat haze.