Page 124 of Outback Secrets

Chapter Thirty-five

‘Now that’s a sight I never expected to see,’ Tilley said as she entered the farmhouse kitchen just after midday on Christmas Eve, delivering a big box of fresh vegetables for tomorrow’s lunch.

Henri looked up from where she was sitting at the table knitting, keeping her mother company while she made the pavlova base, jelly for the trifle and her own version of mince pies. She poked her tongue out at her big sister.

‘Henrietta has quite a talent for knitting, actually,’ their mum said, smiling across at her. ‘She picked it up very fast.’

That wasn’t completely true, but she appreciated the praise nevertheless and she had been knitting pretty much nonstop since she’d started. While it didn’t completely quieten her thoughts or ease her pain, it was surprisingly therapeutic. After making two dishtowels and a scarf, she’d stumbled across an organisation online that collected knitted pouches for orphaned wild animals and mittens for koalas hurt in bushfires. It felt good to be knitting for a purpose besides her own distraction.

Tilley came across and squeezed Henri’s shoulder. ‘I’m impressed, little sis. And how are you feeling?’

‘Fine,’ Henri lied as she finished another row. ‘I’m not using my crutches as much anymore.’

They all knew Tilley hadn’t been asking about her ankle.

‘Matilda, do you have time for a cup of tea?’ their mum asked, wiping her hands on her navy CWA apron.

Tilley glanced at her smart watch. ‘Probably not—we’re inundated with deliveries today and I promised James I’d help the courier get through them this arvo—but a quick one won’t hurt. Have you got any cake to go with it? I haven’t had a chance to eat all day.’

Of course there was cake—their mother practically had a different cake for every day of the year.

Tilley all but collapsed into a seat next to Henri and sighed when her mum poured the tea and placed a china cup in front of her. ‘Ah, there’s just something about tea that soothes the soul,’ she said as she lifted the cup to take a sip.

Henri reached for her can of Diet Coke. ‘Where’s Macy?’

‘Liarna’s mum has taken them to the pool. There’s a big inflatable, Christmas carols and games there today. I tell you, that girl has a better social life than me.’

Henri and her mother chuckled in agreement.

‘So, Mum, do you still want me to cook the potato bake at home tomorrow morning before we come over?’ Tilley asked.

She nodded. ‘Yes, please. There won’t be any room in our oven with the two turkeys and all the roast veggies.’

‘Why do we need potato bake?’ Henri said, reaching across the table to take a slice of carrot and chocolate cake. ‘Aren’t we having roast potatoes?’

‘Yes,’ sighed Tilley, ‘but Macy doesn’t like roast potatoes, so we decided on another option.’

‘Okay then.’ Whatever. Henri was pretty certain that when they were kids, you ate what you were given or went hungry, whether you liked the texture or not, but she didn’t want to sound like she was a hundred years old by stating that. It was no skin off her nose anyway.

As her mother and sister went through the Christmas menu for what had to be the billionth time—you’d be forgiven for thinking Prince Harry and Megs were coming—Henri refocused her attention on her knitting.

‘It’s Sexy Rexy,’ Tilley said about ten minutes later.

‘What’s Sexy Rexy?’

Tilley sighed in frustration. ‘The mysterious benefactor, Mum! Keep up.’

Henri hadn’t really been listening to the conversation, but now her head snapped up. ‘Sexy Rexy is the mysterious benefactor?’

‘Am I speaking another language?’ Tilley laughed. ‘That’s what I keep saying. I was in the café this morning and everyone was talking about it. Somehow, through all Logan’s research, he worked out that all roads led to Sexy Rexy. And apparently the old drunk came right out and admitted it in the pub last night.’

‘Where on earth did Rex Carter get the money for all that stuff? Did he have a rich relative die or something? It doesn’t make sense. The man buys all his clothes from the op shop, and have you seen his house?’ Their mother screwed up her nose. ‘I wouldn’t let one of the dogs live there.’

Tilley shrugged. ‘Well, apparently he won the lottery a while back—ten million or something. And I guess he just isn’t too fussed about material things or luxury himself.’

‘Why would you buy lottery tickets and then not treat yourself if you came into big cash?’ her mum asked. ‘As much as I love Bunyip Bay, if I came into millions, I’d buy myself one of those mansions overlooking the beach in Cottesloe. The least I’d do is totally renovate this place.’

‘I guess he gets a thrill from helping others,’ Tilley surmised. ‘And maybe his house is a palace on the inside. I don’t think anyone ever visits him.’