Sunday morning, still early. Nina took her time waking up. The events of the previous day, both terrible and wonderful, milled about her mind, and her fingers were drawn to the unfamiliar feel of the ring on her finger. Ric’s promise ring from long ago, kept for all these years. She’d slipped it on before falling asleep.
Jinx nosed into the room and rested his silky head beside her pillow. She stroked his soft ears. ‘Hello, Jinxy.’ He jumped onto the bed and laid his warm body against her. The phone rang. Ric? She fumbled to answer it.
‘Nina, darling, have you heard about Eva?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Margie just told me. It came as quite a shock down at Pemberley. Everyone expected a stroke to carry her off, but in the end it was her heart. It should have lasted, apparently. Eva saw a specialist last week and he said her heart was in good shape.’ Mum sighed. ‘Just goes to show, you never know when your time’s up.’
Mum’s words rang in her ears. It should have lasted. Had losing Billabong broken Eva’s heart? Or had it merely given her permission to slip away? What sort of life was it anyway, shut up in Pemberley like that, without hope? Except that up until recently she’d had hope, hadn’t she – however forlorn.
‘Nina?’ Her mother’s voice sounded anxious. ‘Nina, can you still hear me?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Your father had a word to Trevor at the bank and it looks like the sale’s off. Have you heard?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Such a terrible business. How are you holding up?’ Nina didn’t know how to answer that question, but thankfully a response didn’t seem to be required. ‘Dad’s got Kevin in to run the shop. We’re coming to see you.’
Nina opened her mouth to say, ‘There’s no need. I’m fine.’ But that would be a lie. She wasn’t fine. She was hollow with grief.
‘Thank you.’
‘Good-o.’ Mum sounded pleased, and rather relieved, that their impromptu visit was going to be welcome. ‘And don’t worry,’ she said. ‘We’ll bring tea.’
Another call. Ric? No, Lockie. Nina switched off her phone.
‘But I wanted to surprise Poppi with breakfast in bed.’
‘Well, you should have got up earlier.’ Ric placed the bowl of cereal in front of Sophie. She ate a spoonful and then heaped on more sugar. ‘Want more rice bubbles on your sugar?’ She made a face. He poured a bowl for himself.
‘Can we make Poppi dinner instead then?’
Ric nodded but his mind was elsewhere, down at the evening river with Nina. For years he’d lived with the fantasy of her naked in his arms, ready and willing beside him. He’d dreamed of her earthy scent, the taste of her mouth, the smooth-as-silk feel of her hair. The fantasy had ended more than one relationship. Last night that dream was made flesh. Everything had seemed so perfect, but in the light of day he wasn’t so certain. Where did things stand between them? What about Lockie? He tried to call Nina, but her phone was switched off.
‘Can we give him a party?’ Sophie began searching through the pantry. ‘Can we make Poppi a cake?’
‘I suppose,’ he said. ‘Maybe Nina knows a good recipe. I’ll ask her, okay?’
Sophie nodded. ‘What will we give him for presents?’
‘I’ve got some cigars put away.’
Sophie screwed up her nose. ‘Smoking’s bad for you. We shouldn’t encourage him. What am I going to give him?’
‘Socks.’
‘I’m not giving him socks. That’s boring.’
‘Well, that’s all I’ve got.’ Ric hadn’t realised that Sophie would take Max’s birthday quite so seriously.
‘We have to have more presents.’
Ric grasped for an idea. What did they do for cheap homemade presents when he was a kid? Mum had been great at that. ‘We’ll make him a placemat with his name on it.’
Sophie considered the suggestion with a poker face. ‘What else?’
‘Ah . . . you could decorate a plate as well.’
‘I guess . . . what else?’
‘A card? You could make him a crazy card. And we’ve got plenty of eggs. Paint some hard-boiled eggs, and we’ll give them to him in a little basket. You could make one out of paper.’
‘Dad, that’s Easter.’
‘Oh, yeah.’
‘What are you going to give him? Grown-ups don’t make their own birthday presents. They buy them from the shop.’
‘I’ll think of something.’ He was squirming a little under his daughter’s interrogation.
‘There’s a bottle of whisky in your room,’ she said. ‘You could give him that. Do we have any wrapping paper?’
‘I don’t think so.’ How did Sophie know about that? He supposed he could sacrifice it to keep her happy.
‘You’re not very good at birthdays, are you?’ she said. ‘It’s lucky you’ve got me. I’ll colour in some newspaper with my school textas. We’ll use that.’ Boots sounded on the verandah. ‘Shh, it’s Poppi. Don’t let him hear.’
Max came in, smiling broadly. ‘Mickey’s done a hell of a job on that cotton. I’ve checked everything west of the main channel. The whole crop’s turning yellow.’
‘That’s good then,’ said Ric.
Sophie kicked him under the table. ‘Wish him a happy birthday,’ she whispered.
He didn’t know why, but he was embarrassed to say it. His daughter’s critical glare was motivation enough, though. ‘Happy birthday, Dad.’
‘Thank you, my boy, thank you,’ said Max, with an expansive smile.
Sophie piped in with her own ‘happy birthday’, and Max planted a kiss on her glowing cheek. ‘With you and your dad here like this? I can’t remember a happier birthday.’
‘I’m making you a cake,’ she said.
He held her at arm’s length and opened his eyes wide, feigning disbelief. ‘You want to spoil your Poppi, eh? Is that it? Well, I’ll try not to be too late home then.’
‘Where are you going?’ She sounded a little deflated. ‘Can I come?’
Max looked at Ric, eyes alight with pride. ‘Always with the questions, this little one. She’s bright like a star.’ He turned his attention back to Sophie. ‘My friends, they’re shouting me lunch at the hotel in town. Just a few old men, drinking and swapping stories. No fun for a little princess. And after that, maybe I’ll go fishing.’
Sophie looked like she was about to argue, and then apparently thought better of it. ‘It is your birthday, Poppi. You should do whatever you want.’
‘You’re a good girl,’ he said. ‘As nice and sweet as can be.’
Sophie beamed. ‘Will you do my plaits before you go, Poppi?’ Max nodded. ‘I’ll just go tell Odette about the cake.’
‘Coffee?’ asked Ric, shooting his father an amused smile as Sophie left. As sweet as can be? Was Dad talking about the same Sophie who’d kicked a classmate in the shins last Friday? But her behaviour had generally improved, and the phone calls from the school were becoming less frequent.
‘Ricardo, today I’m truly a happy man. And Sophie? She’ll soon be truly happy as well.’
‘Why?’ Ric handed him his coffee. ‘What’s up?’
‘That little horse she wants so much? It may not be too far away.’ Max tapped the side of his head. ‘I’ve got a plan to win us some money.’
‘Gambling’s not a plan,’ said Ric. ‘It’s wishful thinking.’
‘No, no. Not gambling. If this plan doesn’t work out, I lose nothing but my time.’
‘Well, are you going to tell me?’
‘A man must have his secrets, yes?’
‘Fair enough.’ Ric smiled. ‘Good luck to you, then.’
Max sipped his coffee. ‘Do something for me, Ricardo.’
‘It’s your birthday. What choice do I have?’
‘Go check the eastern fields after breakfast. Look for green patches Mickey might have missed, will you? And mark them on this map.’ He handed Ric a rough-drawn plan of Donnalee. ‘I’ll help Sophie make that cake before heading into town. That way, maybe I’ll be able to eat it.’
Ric grinned. ‘Righto.’
Max clapped him on the back, before settling into a chair. ‘A nice pan di spagna, with maybe a little cream and cherry liqueur.’ He took a gulp of coffee. ‘Haven’t had a birthday cake in years. It’ll be kind of nice.’
Max looked so happy, so content. A childhood memory came knocking, of another birthday. A memory locked away until now, of when their family was solid and strong, and Max had been his hero. Of him and his sisters, gathered round this same table, while Dad lit sparklers on a cake. Mum bringing plates into the kitchen, and Max claiming a triumphant birthday kiss while her hands were full. Her half-hearted protest and blush of pleasure. He’d adored his father back then, and something of that feeling was on him now. ‘I want to say thanks, Dad . . . You’ve been great with Sophie, a big help.’
Max waved away his comment. ‘You don’t need my help, Ricardo. You’re a fine father, much better than I was.’
Ric felt a rush of love for the old man. Freedom sometimes meant that you simply had nothing left to lose. Here at Donnalee, with Max and Sophie . . . and yes, with Nina. Here, he was a willing captive.