‘So, talk to me, Spence. You flew?’
‘I flew. This arvo.’
Leon breathed out heavily. ‘Details— now. And don’t hold back. I can take it.’
Spencer tried, but there was no way to break it gently. ‘I wasn’t disappointed, put it that way.’
‘No. How could you be.’ Leon punched the pillow and then pretended to give Spencer a left-right to the jaw before falling back on the bed.
‘Did you get a turn on any of the controls—the throttle?’
‘Nah—it doesn’t actually have a throttle, ’cos it doesn’t have an engine, don’t forget.’
‘Yeah ... right. Of course.’
‘Dinner!’ Mum called from the kitchen. ‘Go wash your hands, kids.’
Spencer got up and pushed down his jeans so they covered his ankles. ‘Dad wants to take me over the Stirling Ranges next time.’
‘Next time? Is this gunna be a regular gig, is it? What: Stirling Ranges this week, the moon the next?’
‘Boys, it’s gnocchi! It’s ready!’
‘Man, you get well looked after in this house,’ Leon mumbled.
‘Do you wanna stay for dinner, Leon? I’m sure Mum wouldn’t mind.’
‘Nah, no thanks. I’ll reheat last night’s gruel, it’s okay.’
As they walked to the front door, Spencer said, ‘Did you get the twin flick missiles on the Falcon done?’
‘Yep. And the minifigs. Gotta get started on the interior now. It’s got a detachable cockpit cover. Come by before school tomorrow and we can work on it if you want.’
‘Definitely,’ said Spencer. ‘I’ll see you at eight.’
‘You should skate over. Good practice, Spence. Bye Mrs Gray.’
‘See you, Leon. See you soon. Ask your mum if you can stay for dinner next time, okay? We can run you home afterwards.’
‘Oh, okay ... sounds good. Thanks.’
And Spencer turned towards the smells of dinner, part of him still flying over a patchwork earth, his ears roaring with sky and silence, his skin almost fizzy with adrenalin from the day.
At dinner, Pippa was dark. Spencer looked to Mum for an explanation, and she just shook her head, indicating that silence was the best option.
‘I’m not hungry,’ Pippa said, putting down her fork. ‘Can I get down?’
‘What’s the matter, Pips?’ Spencer couldn’t help himself.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Nothing.’
‘Doesn’t look like noth_____’
‘Spencer, just leave her.’
‘It’s not fair, Mum! Why does he get to go flying with Dad? I’ve been wanting to go with Dad for ages. For ever!’
‘It’s an age thing, sis.’
‘Well, I’m old enough!’
‘Pippa, stop it,’ Mum said, putting her hands flat on the table. ‘You know how this works. It’s the rule. It’s always been the rule. No, well, actually, the rule used to be thirteen, that’s how old we said you’d have to be before you could go up with Dad, but you two hassled us so much we brought it back a year, to twelve. But it’s twelve, and no earlier. You’ll be allowed to go up in the Drifter when you’re t-w-e-l-v-e. I know it doesn’t seem fair now, but when you’re older you’ll see that it is. Now go and have your bath.’
‘I don’t want to have a stupid bath!’
‘Well off to bed with you then!’
‘I don’t want to go to BED YET!’
Mum stood up. ‘Pippa Gray, hop in the bath or shower right now before I chuck you in!’
When her eyes welled up, Spencer said, ‘Do you want me to take you, sis? We can put some lavender oil in the tub if you like.’
Pippa nodded her wet face. Mum started to clean up from dinner. Between the loud chank chank of plates, Spencer was sure he could hear her mumbling something about ‘the bloody Drifter’.