Page 27 of Queenslander
She raised an eyebrow.
“You are winning at life,” Nev repeated. “You just can’t see it yet.”
It was noon when Nev dropped her and the dogs off at the donga park in Tinaroo. The clinic had been cold and bright. A doctor in watermelon-patterned scrubs had fiddled with her swollen wrist, pushing and pulling bones back where they were supposed to be. Now it was in a black cast elbow to thumb and throbbed in a way that made it hard to think.
Nev walked up the front step of Ronnie’s rectangular aluminum trailer. The cardboard door swung inwards. “Pound a glass of water, watch footy and eat something that doesn’t appear through a window and come in a bag. No work on the farm today.”
“I’ll see how I feel later.”
“Tomorrow I’ll line you out with projects around the house.”
Her truck, which she had left at Upsend Downs, had already been parked in front of her donga.
Small town magic.
8
DAINTY
FOUR YEARS EARLIER
If Nev didn’t go, Reg would harass her about it later, so she made an appearance at the party. He did that for Ron’s birthday every December, invited all his relatives, friends, and coworkers from the fire station. Two matching gold foil balloons tied to the front veranda. Ron was still only twenty-two, the age Nev had been when she graduated school, moved to full-time war photography and effectively became an adult.
Ron didn’t have graduation ceremonies, so it was less clear when she was supposed to grow up. Maybe her family would coddle her and keep her eternally young, free of responsibilities. Nev caught herself. That thought wasn’t fair. Rainbow was a responsibility. Could have been. Should have been.
Behind the purple Madonna house hid a tropical North Queensland paradise—a large pool, several shopbuildings, sheds full of off-road vehicles, a vegetable patch, archery targets, charred fire pit, a badminton net, and a playground, none of it visible from the road.
She found Reg at the barbeque flipping bratwurst and burgers.
His face lit up when he saw her. “How ya goin’?” He tapped his half-empty stubby of Carlton Mid against her full one. Behind him, Ron and her cousins played touch rugby on the lawn. Judging by the misty look in his eyes, this wasn’t his first stubby. “Blaise is a Christian. It’s her deal. Have to respect the wife’s deal. Never question another man’s religion, politics, or sports club, right? Anyway. I never understood the Prodigal Son story.”
Be nice,Nev warned herself.He’s a sentimental drunk.
He flipped a row of prawns on the top rack with his tongs. “You’re lucky you don’t have kids.”
She took back every good thing she had thought about him.
He peered downish at her.
It was her turn to say something.You’re an arsehole. Why did Blaise marry you again?“Christ, Reg. Don’t ever tell someone that, you insensitive bastard.”
He wasn’t listening. “Thanks for taking a chance on her. It means the world to me. She’s my world.”
“Don’t mention it. She’s a good worker.” Her irritation faded when she looked over at the lawn and saw Ron sprinting with a rugby ball, chased and tackled to the ground, laughing hard.
“She wants to be like you when she grows up.”
Bloody hell...Cue the panic. “You’re kidding.”
Reg laughed. “She looks up to you. You’re her role model.”
“Bullshit. I know for a fact you are.” Nev was no good at this conversation. Is this how he talked to his mates? Was this him including her in normal male bonding around the barbie? Maybe all the Madonnas were over-sharers? Was he buttering her up for bad news? Or was it a warning to be more careful?
The following morning, Nev sat at her desk as Ron leaned across her to see the new STAFF shirts on the computer screen. Ron sipped a Fanta. “What about that long-sleeve neon yellow one that says quick-dry?”
“It would turn brown immediately. We haven’t had dark shirts in a few years. How about brown?”
“A light color would be cooler.”
