33

BACK IN the front bar, I’d started to ring Kylie to arrange a visit to the farm, but Brophy took the phone out of my hand and placed it on the pool table.

‘I didn’t drive all this way to have cake with your sister. I came to see you.’

It was one of the nicest things he’d ever said to me. Warmth radiated from my chest. Hope survived, love would triumph. We would be okay. I put the phone in my bag and beamed.

‘Besides,’ he said, ‘families are weird. I don’t understand the compulsion to meet them.’ He had a point, but it was blunt. And only two weeks ago he’d been saying himself he wanted to meet Delia.

‘So, what’s the plan? I have to get out of Woolburn, so maybe we could drive somewhere, find a nice bed and breakfast, tell Marigold to take a long walk.’

‘Can’t stay in Woolburn, eh? You’re on one of your missions, aren’t you?’

‘I … Wow, how did you guess?’

‘I can tell. Your energy levels go up, you’re focussed. You’re happier.’

He knew me well. This person was a sensitive, empathic human being, capable of deep insight. What if, instead of separation, there was a chance for restoration?

There was the problem of Morrie Swindon’s Holden. We decided I’d drive it back, with Brophy and Marigold following me in the van. My memory was hazy, but by sheer luck, I found the way to the farm where Morrie and Loretta were hiding Ben.

When we came to the gate and grid, Brophy jumped out and opened the gate.

Morrie was sitting outside the house, with Nigel the Alaskan Malamute lying down beside him. He had a cigarette in his mouth, held a steaming mug in one hand, and was gently pulling on one of Nigel’s ears with the other. Near where the dog’s head rested on his knee, he had a long dark object balanced across his lap. As the van drew up near the house, he whistled, and the dog jumped down from the veranda. Morrie moved the object, a double-barrelled shotgun, and rested it against the house, and came down the steps to take the keys from me.

‘What happened to the mirror?’ Ben asked, coming outside with Loretta.

‘Shane-fucking-Farquhar. He broke it off with a crowbar. What’s left is in the glovebox with a couple of fifties. Should cover the repair costs.’

‘Farquhar shoulda paid for it,’ Ben said.

‘You ask him. I never want to ever speak to him again.’

‘But why’d he do it?’

‘To intimidate me. He told me to find those papers you signed. He wanted me to tell Kylie that I support the idea of a cattle partnership with him. To sell it to her as a great idea.’

Morrie lit a cigarette with a plastic lighter, blew smoke, amusement shining in his eyes.

‘What does that mean?’ Ben looked confused. ‘Has Kylie changed her mind again?’

Loretta grabbed Ben by the shoulders. ‘This changes nothing,’ she said to him.

‘What’s all this?’ I asked.

Loretta pointed her finger at me. ‘What did you say to him? To Farquhar?’

‘I … I said no, of course.’

Ben looked at Loretta. She nodded. ‘I have the papers,’ Loretta said. ‘I took them with me when I left your flat that night.’

‘And why would you do that?’ I asked, though I was fairly certain why.

She ran inside the house, and left Ben to weather my glare.

He looked at his feet, coughed. ‘Because … because I’ve changed my mind.’

Loretta returned and held up a wad of papers. She took Morrie’s lighter. ‘Ben’s going to sue Kylie for control of the Hardy family trust. We’ll take control of the farm.’

Even Brophy and Marigold laughed.

‘Ben’s not on a solid legal footing to be suing anyone, being an escaped criminal,’ I said.

‘We’ve had advice from a lawyer. We have a very good case.’

‘We? Loretta, that’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think? You don’t have any claim to the farm.’

Ben put his arm around her. ‘She’s Mrs Hardy now.’

Morrie chuckled and puffed his cigarette.

‘Congratulations,’ said Marigold.

‘It was a beautiful ceremony,’ Ben said. ‘Morrie did the service, since he’s a registered celebrant And Loretta’s dress — wow — you should have seen her.’

I had my doubts about Morrie’s bona fides. Loretta’s, too. ‘Well.’ It was all I could say.

Loretta flicked the lighter and held the flame under the papers, waving the flaming sheets in the wind. Pieces of smoking paper broke off and drifted away. When it was fully alight, she dropped the flaming mass on the dirt.

Morrie dropped his cigarette at his feet and stepped on it.