Page 49 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

THE VELVETEEN RABBIT

The tears caught in Tash’s throat and her shoulders shook. It was a big, heartfelt cry that wracked her whole body. When Oliver wrapped his arms around her, she collapsed. He drew her in, pressing her cheek to his chest, and let her cry it out.

Eventually, her sobs subsided. With the heels of her hands, she dried her bloodshot eyes. ‘It’s not fair,’ she said.

‘I know,’ Oliver agreed.

‘Are we going to bury them next to one another?’ she asked. ‘That’s what Nan would have wanted.’

‘It’s not up to us.’

Tash had wanted to read The Velveteen Rabbit at Arthur’s funeral. ‘It’s the part where the Skin Horse and the Rabbit are talking about becoming real,’ she told her father. ‘You see, the boy’s uncle made the Skin Horse real.’

She picked up the book, which was on the kitchen table, and began to read.

‘“Real isn’t how you are made, said the Skin Horse. It’s a thing that happens to you.

When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real…

once you are Real you can’t become unreal again.

It lasts for always.’’’ A pleading look followed.

Another round of tears rolled down her cheeks.

Oliver blinked, fighting back the grief he felt for Arthur and the overwhelming emotion for his daughter. With a deep breath, he composed himself. What a roller coaster the last few days had been.

He wanted her to read the passage too, but it was out of his hands.

Arthur’s two children came out of the woodwork.

Peggy and Mark travelled to Eagle Nest from Blackbutt.

The town was two hours northeast of Brisbane, and they had driven down via the Newell Highway.

It had taken them twelve hours of shared driving to travel nine hundred kilometres.

‘It’s a bloody big country,’ Leo said.

Oliver thought a horse and cart might have been quicker.

That Arthur even had children was a surprise to him.

But he was the only one. Peggy and Mark knew everyone in town.

They greeted Blanche and Leo with polite disdain.

Flora also received an icy reception. When the introductions came his way, Oliver hovered over his daughter like a protective shadow. They wouldn’t dare.

The following day, Reverend Rebecca knocked on the parsonage’s back door. Seeing Oliver in the kitchen, she stepped inside.

‘We have a problem,’ she said, placing her handbag, a sturdy black satchel, on the table. ‘They’re burying Arthur in town.’

Oliver wasn’t sure why this was a problem. But when she asked him if he wanted tea, he nodded.

After filling the kettle, she placed it on the stove and adjusted the flame. She was a woman who knew her way around Elsie’s kitchen. Pointing to the overhead cupboards, she said, ‘Cups. Would you mind?’

He passed her the crockery.

‘It’s against his wishes.’ Reverend Rebecca plucked a manila folder out of her bag. She waved it in front of his face, then slapped it down on the table with a force that made Oliver reel.

‘I like a hard copy, always have. The will is right there.’ She pointed to the folder. ‘He wants to be up on the Bells Line of Road with Elsie.’

Oliver took a deep breath.

The kettle whistled. The reverend poured the tea.

‘I can hold them off for another twenty-four hours, but after that, it’s out of my hands.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ He pictured himself with Tash at the graveyard, swapping bodies. One hand holding the flashlight and the other resting on the shovel. The Citroen would make the perfect getaway car.

‘Your lawyers, Equity and Associates in Sydney. They don’t muck around. I thought a stern email might change the family’s mind. We could send them a copy of his last wishes, along with the will. Of course, the church has no money to pay.’ She stared at Oliver.

‘Okay, I’ll take care of it.’

Reverend Rebecca opened the folder and tapped her finger on the documents. Then she stepped back and once again looked expectantly at Oliver.

He looked expectantly back.

‘Don’t just stand there, get out your phone. Take a photo and write an email. Time is of the essence. ’

The following week, Arthur was laid to rest in the Bells Line of Road cemetery, next to Elsie.

Peggy and Mark were less accommodating than Oliver would have liked, and Tash didn’t get to read the passage from The Velveteen Rabbit .

If Arthur’s will had specified it, he could have made it happen.

But once the lawyers got involved, everyone was sticking to the script.

Only Peggy and Mark remained dry-eyed throughout the funeral service.

They stood tall, their faces reflecting an unwavering composure.

The large gathering, which showed the town’s palpable love for Arthur, astonished his children.

They were not a close family; that was obvious to everyone.

Oliver, thinking of his own father, wondered about unspoken words and missed opportunities.

A love strangled by distance and unresolved tension.

Then Mia reminded him that Arthur had had an affair that produced an illegitimate child. He stayed with his wife – their mother – but might not have loved her. The children grew up in the same house and they all lived under the one roof.

‘Riding a superbike around a racetrack is difficult,’ Mia said. ‘I understand that, but it might be easier than pretending to be happily married for decades when you aren’t.’