Page 43 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

AN ENDONE

Though in a state of exhaustion, sleep was impossible for Mia.

She tossed and turned. The room was too hot and then too cold.

There was no air, but opening the window caused her to shiver.

Finally, giving up on sleep, she lay quietly in bed.

There was a lot to think about: blood tests and scans in Sydney; he had known about this for months; it was terminal; he had stopped further treatment.

Leo was old, but he wasn’t an old man. He was too young to die.

At seven, she pulled back the covers and made her way to the kitchen.

Because there was nothing like a good cup of coffee to start the day, she focused on making the perfect cappuccino and finished with a feather motif in the froth.

Unfortunately, the rich, evocative scent didn’t help her melancholy.

Grief had robbed this small pleasure. As she brought the cup to her lips, her phone rang.

It was her brother. She put her coffee down and answered Jamie’s call.

‘Remember when they went to France for the school holidays? And left the three of us at home,’ he said.

‘Yes, I remember. ’

‘And you cooked enough spaghetti Bolognese for a month. You stood on a chair at the stove with a tea towel tied around your waist. God, you were tiny.’

With her coffee, Mia walked down the hallway. She opened the front door and sat on the stoop. Snood followed, tucking his head under her arm, and they gazed at the river below.

‘You wore kitchen gloves for a week. What was that all about?’

‘I was cleaning the house. Someone had to.’

‘You got that latex rash between your fingers and Richard took you to the chemist.’

‘It still flares up when I think about it. Remember, we used to pretend they were kidnapped by Power Rangers.’ She sipped her coffee.

‘Or leprechauns, and one time it was pirates. We invented elaborate stories about where they were. Had an entire vocabulary about their escapades. We were terrific liars.’

‘In the early days, we had a babysitter. The woman from the agency. Marlene? Marilyn?’

‘Maryanne. She was nice. I wonder what happened to her. I’m surprised no one suspected the truth. But we lived in a big house, and they were rich. It was the perfect disguise.’

‘I remember being alone for a night. You were away somewhere – I have no idea where Richard was – but I was petrified. I slept in the cupboard.’ Finishing her coffee, Mia put her cup to one side and patted her dog.

‘I’m so sorry. We’ve been through some stuff. Makes you wonder.’

Mia considered the town below. The streetlights had just switched off and the odd car was making its way over the bridge. ‘What does it make you wonder – specifically?’ she asked .

‘If I were to spell it out. The parental neglect I experienced has affected my adult relationships. I'm in therapy, and it turns out I have some unconventional ideas on love.’

‘What ideas?’ Mia’s heart rate was rising. ‘Specifically, what ideas?’

‘Because we had absent parents, I don’t trust that someone will be there tomorrow.

Also, I associate love with neglect – not too much, just a little – that’s my default.

It’s what I recognise as love. In the past, happy, healthy relationships haven’t fulfilled me.

I’m drawn to people who mistreat me. I’ll give you one guess where it started. ’

‘That’s a big burden to place on two parents who love you.’

‘It is. Mia, what I’m trying to say is that we grew up under the same roof.’

‘I went to boarding school.’

‘Yes. That wasn’t fun for you. But living at home wasn’t any better. I’m not saying neglect is your default, but think about it.’

She had already thought about it. For the last three years, she had thought about it.

None of this was a revelation to her. Her parents didn’t understand, or if they did, they continued to ignore the damage they had caused their children.

With no peace treaty forthcoming, Mia had not forgiven them and probably never would.

A complicated mix of loyalty and heart-aching regret for not having a better childhood replaced the deep-seated anger she once felt toward them.

‘You’re smart. Did you know that?’ she said.

‘My high school ATAR was ninety-four.’

A pause.

‘Go on, say it,’ he said.

‘Ninety-eight point seven. ’

‘And you studied wool , for Christ’s sake.’

‘It’s Textiles. I have a Masters in Textiles. I just happen to sell wool.’

‘The Tom Roberts goes to auction at the end of the month. Thought I might make a bid – just for fun.’

‘You should do that. Uncle Leo has a terminal brain tumour.’

‘Shit! I’ll send him an email.’ He paused. ‘Mia, life is short. I need to get on with it.’

They ended the call.

Jamie was right. Life was short and she needed to pull herself together.

To do this, she required all the armoury her toolkit had to offer.

First, her best foot soldier needed a walk.

Snood’s lead was hanging by the front door.

She pulled a long jacket over her pyjamas and walked down the path.

The dog followed. Fresh air and a stroll by the river would settle her mind.

The tennis ball was still in the basket by the front door, but Snood was content to amble and sniff the base of every tree they passed.

His curious nature suited her pace. Heading east, they walked away from town.

Berries were still covering the brambles.

Late for the season, the vines grew in wild, tangled clumps.

The bunnies were back, nibbling the fresh grass along the riverbank.

Mia thought about what Jamie had said. Specifically, the connection between the way her parents had loved her and her adult relationships.

Her dating history wasn’t an impressive track record.

Having dissected her accommodating behaviour, including her relationship with Alfie, too many times, she wasn’t going to do this again.

What did she want? There was that question again.

Love. Of course. But that was a deceptively simple answer.

Did she want to get married and have a family…

with Ol iver? Breaking up with him hadn’t been her intention.

All she wanted was to step back from the pain.

Now, her actions seemed absurd. Sometimes navigating life and love were arduous tasks.

Like trying to plot a difficult Fair Isle pattern blindfolded, while also riding a motorbike in the rain.

When Snood stopped to forage under a tree, she paused. Close to the bank, where the grass was lush, a large white rabbit was grazing amongst the smaller, native brown and grey bunnies. The animal wore a collar.

‘Buttons, is that you?’

Snood took off, lunging for the rabbits.

Mia, with a firm grip on the lead, skidded forward and her legs flew out from under her.

Aware that she was falling backward, she threw her hands behind her, hoping to brace the fall.

Off balance, her right hand took the full force of her body weight.

Lying flat on the grass, she thought it could have been worse. She could have landed face-first.

Before their final meetings with specialists in Sydney, Leo and Blanche dropped in to see Tash and Oliver.

Another of Blanche’s shoeboxes filled with photos had turned up at the back of their garage.

After tipping the pictures onto the table, the four of them gathered around and discussed the names, dates, and places.

They noted the old vehicles: the FJ Holden and the Ford Capri.

Blanche drove a Morris Minor, and Leo once owned a Stag.

Remember the Volkswagen Beetle? Blanche pointed out the clothes: flares, bell sleeves and tailored silhouettes.

In the 1970s, the miniskirt was still fashionable, but jumpsuits and leather pants were gaining in popularity.

The sound of a ringing phone caused Blanche and Leo to look at Oliver .

‘It’s not me,’ he said, nodding to his phone resting on the table.

By the time Blanche found her phone at the bottom of her handbag, the caller had given up.

‘It’s Mia.’ Blanche tapped the call-back button.

‘Darling, it’s me—’ Blanche paused, listening. ‘In the hospital. What? Oh, darling! Yes. Yes. Of course. No, you’re not getting a taxi.’ Blanche paused again. ‘We’ll look after him.’ She ended the call. ‘Mia’s in the hospital. She broke her arm.’

‘Is she okay?’ Oliver asked.

‘No,’ Blanche said. ‘She thought it was a sprain and she lay awake all night in absolute agony.’

‘Was it the bike?’ Leo asked. ‘Did she come off?’

‘No. It wasn’t the bike. It was Buttons.’

As Mia walked out of the emergency ward, she looked around for Blanche and Leo, but her gaze fell on Oliver. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. When he saw her, he lifted his head and sighed.

Mia started to cry. Raising her hand to wipe away her tears, a sharp pain shot through her arm, and she winced.

Her forearm, encased in plaster, was broken in two places.

It rested in a sling tied around her neck.

Her head hurt. Her whole upper body ached, but the pain of her broken bones was unbearable.

In a moment, Oliver was by her side.

‘Hey, hey,’ he said. ‘It’s okay. You’re okay.’

She swallowed. ‘Why are you here?’

‘They have a doctor’s appointment in Sydney. I volunteered.’

‘You didn’t have to. ’

‘I know a few things about broken bones.’

‘Okay, I have a script.’ Her hands were shaking. ‘For painkillers.’

He took the paper from her. ‘Wait here.’

Oliver disappeared into the pharmacy. He returned a few minutes later with a shopping bag.

‘Snood,’ she asked. ‘He’s been home alone all day.’

‘Tash and Mary have him. They’ve taken him to the park.’

‘Okay, that’s good. Thank you.’

‘How’s the pain?’

‘Honestly, it’s terrible. All they’ve given me so far is strong paracetamol. I hope there are some extra heavy-duty painkillers in that bag.’

He guided her to the exit.