Billy, sitting next to me in the courtyard of the hospital’s rehabilitation wing, pushes a brightly wrapped package into my hands.
‘Open it then!’
I shake the parcel. ‘Is it a jigsaw puzzle?’
‘Careful! You might break it.’
The side effects of the radiation Billy has had are gradually diminishing, he’s eating well, and with swimming and other physio treatments, his hip movement and leg strength are improving. I can’t help but share his excitement.
‘I need a new laptop. Is that what this is?’
He huffs a laugh. ‘You think I’m made of money?’
‘It was an outside chance.’
‘Speaking of money,’ he extends his leg, ‘I got a message from Beatrice Oldfield. If you can spare the time, she’s shouting us a weekend away.’
‘What?’
‘She’s getting a posse together for Elizabeth’s birthday and has invited a couple of old blokes—me and George Parsons—along.’ He smiles. ‘Beatrice was younger than me and George at school, but she and Elizabeth used to look up to my Catherine.’
‘Why am I included?’
‘Beatrice was worried about dragging me out of rehab and suggested you come too. Just for a bit of help if I need it. What do you think? It’s not for a while, first weekend in October.’ He looks at me hopefully. ‘You’d be on the guest list, all expenses paid. I don’t plan on being a burden.’
‘You could never be that.’
‘Trouble with George is, he’s older than me and it’s all he can do to get himself down the stairs.’
‘I’d be happy to help.’
‘Beatrice and Elizabeth have guests from interstate staying at their house, so Beatrice has booked us a room at a hotel in Denman.’
‘I’ll put it in the diary.’
‘Good on you.’
I hold up the present. ‘It’s not heavy enough to be a book.’
‘Open it up and you’ll see.’
I peel back the paper, turn the whitewashed timber picture frame around and …
‘Oh!’
Eeyore stares back. Not a photograph, but a water colour in soft pastel shades. Eeyore’s ears are up, fluffy and cream in the middle, spiky and grey at the edges. His eyes are bright, his expression imperious. A rounded rump, a bushel of hair at the end of his tail.
‘It’s lovely.’ My voice wobbles. ‘How …’
Billy grins from ear to ear. ‘You know how I tinkered with his shelter at your old place?’ He scratches his ear. ‘Waste of time that was, come to think of it, given what Farquhar did.’
‘With my smart phone. You should have seen your donkey, Prim, proud as punch under that bit of old corrugated iron. Anyway, Doc Sinclair gave me a hand sending the photo to my niece, Amy. You’ve met her, haven’t you? She’s at art school.’
‘She’s captured him brilliantly.’
‘She’s a good girl, that Amy. Reckon she’s got more talent in her little finger than I’ve got in my head.’
A little finger looped around a thumb. I wanted that. I wanted Blake. But how would he ever know that? When my eyes sting, I blink.
‘This has made my day.’
‘What went on in the rest of the day?’ Billy looks at me suspiciously. ‘Spill the beans.’
‘Something happened, and that led to … something else and—’
‘One bean at a time, then.’
I’m teary, but Billy waits patiently. ‘Rowena is head of HR at the zoo, and she organised a … surprise party. It … wasn’t a big deal, just staff from the zoo and a cake. I froze, Billy. I could barely say a word.’
He grimaces. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen you like that.’
I link my hands in my lap. ‘I accused Farquhar of doping his cattle last year, and ever since then, my … speech has got worse. The past few months have been particularly bad. And I’ve had flashbacks.’
‘You’ve had a lot on your plate, that’s for sure. You might need a bit of help, someone to talk to.’ He winces as he rubs his thigh. ‘How about your sisters?’
‘I don’t want to … worry them.’ I rewrap the picture. ‘Are you ready to head back now?’
When I position the walking frame in front of him, Billy pulls himself up on the handles, teetering as he gets his balance. ‘Forget the surprise party,’ he says gruffly. ‘I hate them too.’
I guide the walking frame towards the ramp and door. ‘You’re in pain, aren’t you?’
‘Tell me about the second bean.’
‘It doesn’t reflect … well on me.’
‘I’ll decide that.’
‘After Blake covered for me at the party, I told him I didn’t need him to rescue me. He was offended.’
Billy manoeuvres the frame up the ramp. His room is at the end of a linoleum corridor. ‘Were you stuttering when he rescued you?’
‘When I could get … words out, yes.’
‘Well then? What’s a decent bloke supposed to do?’
Excellent question. ‘A few weeks ago, I told him to keep his distance.’
‘In a romantic way? Is that what you mean?’
I blow out a breath. ‘I guess.’
‘And did he do what you asked?’
‘He did.’
‘So, what are you worried about?’
‘I’ve missed him.’
‘You know what they say on The Farmer Wants a Wife? “Communication is key.”’ Billy nods wisely. ‘Maybe it’s time to give it a go.’
‘I told him I didn’t need a … white knight.’
‘Nothing wrong with having someone at your back.’
‘I didn’t mean to hurt him.’
‘So why not do something about it?’ When two nurses walk towards us, Billy pulls over. ‘Next time you go to the Coach House, knock on his door and have a chat.’
When a nurse tells Billy his afternoon tea is waiting in his room, he mutters and grumbles.
‘I’d better get back to the cottage anyway.’
‘You got any more news on the cattle baron?’
‘Nothing I can tell you about right now.’
‘Still getting your evidence together?’
‘You could say that. But please don’t talk about it.’
Just like Nate did, he taps the side of his nose. ‘I’m no gasbag.’
When I hug Billy goodbye, he lets go of the walking frame to hug me back. ‘Thank you for the painting. Thank Amy too.’
‘No worries.’ He stands back. ‘But don’t forget what I said. Pop in for a chat with the Scots bloke.’
When I arrive at the Coach House, a white sedan is parked next to Blake’s four-wheel drive. It takes an hour to do my chores and at the end of the hour, the car is still there. I should be relieved I don’t have to talk to him.
But I’m not.