The trip home was over before she knew it. Living next door to work had its advantages. Rebecca stepped back inside to find Sarge sitting at the fireplace, lazily watching the embers. The dog turned its head and acknowledged Rebecca with a low, friendly bark and padded across the room to get a scratch on the back of her head.
“What’cha been up to girl? Watching soaps?”
Sarge just looked up, urging the hand that still rested on her neck to continue scratching.
“Not talking, I guess. How abouts a walk down the back yard. I didn’t even consider you might have wanted a toilet break.”
Rebecca headed for the door and before she had even made it halfway down the hall, Sarge had rushed past her and was standing whimpering at the back door.
It was still cool outside and as the two of them stepped down onto the grass, Sarge took off to find some privacy. Rebecca just stood and drew a deep breath of the cool air into her lungs. She noticed the grass was beginning to look a bit long and knew she would have to get the old mower going and make a start on tidying at least part of the backyard on the weekend or it would become unmanageable. She wandered further down the yard, which was more like a paddock. There were three more sheds back down there and one of them she remembered had the garden tools and mower. She was sure it was the small one with the roof painted green. The other two sheds had just always been there, and she could not recollect ever being in them. That, she decided, would be a mystery to solve tomorrow. A vague memory of Pop talking about Nan’s kiln and pottery gear came to mind, but she could not be sure.
Sarge came bounding back across the yard and went straight up the steps and sat at the door. Rebecca raised her eyebrows at the dog.
“You, young lady have become soft. Too comfortable in front of that fire aren’t you.”
With Sarge curled back up in front of the fire, Rebecca began to prepare for dinner, turning on the television to catch the early news. She stopped peeling carrots when she heard mention of a fire at nearby Willow Tree. Overnight the Bowling Club had burnt to the ground. Vision showed firemen trying to contain a massive blaze but by morning only a charred pile of remnants were left. Police were investigating.
“My god. That place went up. That’ll keep Uncle Paul busy.”, then back to preparing dinner.
The night fell quickly, as it always did in winter. The sky had cleared, with only patchy cloud breaking a chilly, but star filled sky. Rebecca stopped to gaze up at it as she retrieved another load of wood for the fire. She knew that no one in the city would ever see the milky way like this, a splash of blazing white, dotted across the heavens. Sarge sat and watched her from inside, smartly staying within the warmth of the house, until Rebecca came back inside and closed the back door.
Dinner and dishes were done, the fire was roaring and soon it would die down to the slow burning embers that would keep the house warm all night.
‘Time’, Rebecca thought, ‘to open that Diary.’ She grabbed it from the kitchen table and found the sweet spot on the old couch, or more precisely the only remaining sweet spot. Sarge had claimed one end of the couch.
“Where to start girl. Beginning? Or open anywhere?”
After a moment of thought she closed her eyes and found a page somewhere near the middle, opened it up and let the words take her back to her mother.
‘OMG. He thinks he’s good at soccer. Cute in those shorty shorts but can’t kick straight. Lucky Paul picks up on his weaknesses. But still his eyes are just mesmerising. They won the game but only just. No thanks to David. Narromine plays dirty (so do we but I’m biased). Celebratory drinks at the coach’s place and then late-night drive back to the share house in Tamworth. Paul spent most of night talking to Meg. GOOD. Stop him giving me and David a hard time.’
Rebecca looked at a clipping from the newspaper that had been stuck into the Diary and folded over. It was a soccer team holding up a trophy, the only time they had ever won. She could make out her Dad and Uncle Paul. None of the other faces looked familiar, but then she saw the coach. It was a young and fit Cameron Nash, according to the list of names below the photo, better known to everyone as Nashy.
“See Nashy, get off the smokes and beer and you could be back to this.” She knew Nashy couldn’t hear but it was good to break the silence, even if it was with her own voice.
“How about some music Sarge?”
Sarge opened her eyes and looked down over her long snout at Rebecca, which Rebecca decided to take as approval. She walked to the kitchen and turned on the radio. It was partway through some song she had never heard before and she thought it sounded like rubbish, so she turned the dial slightly to the left and immediately stopped when Van Morrison started up with ‘Brown Eyed Girl’.
“That’s more like it.”
She thumbed through some more pages, finding herself looking at the pictures, more than reading anything, but something caught her eye on a page in the back half of the diary. Something that made her stop and look closer.
‘I’m scared, but what the hell do I do. He could hurt someone. But I need to tell someone. Do I tell David? Do I just hope he goes away? David would go crazy and I don’t think he would end up on the winning side. Is it my fault? I didn’t lead him on, did I? I should have made it clear years ago at that end of year footie do. Wish they’d never won that shield. More trouble than it's worth.
I have to tell David. I have to.'
“What the hell? Was someone on dad’s soccer team giving mum a hard time? Stalking her maybe.” Rebecca checked the date on the entry and turned back a page trying to find more information, and then remembered the photo of all the players that had been in the winning team. She flicked back until she found it and started reading the names and as she lifted the page, the aged glue must have finally given out and the clipping fell to the floor.
And then the lights went out.