Chapter Forty-Two
CHAPTER
42
I’m adjusting my hat when my phone rings. Phoenix shies at the sound and I bring him back to a walk.
‘How’s my saddler girl?’
‘Hey, James.’
‘Kit Thorsen.’ He whistles. ‘ Quite the catch, Mac.’
‘He’s not … we’re not …’ A kangaroo bounds across the track and two more follow. Besides pricking his ears, Phoenix ignores them. ‘What did you see?’
‘You, Kit, Clementine. It was all over the socials.’
‘I had no idea my mother would be there.’
‘From what I’ve heard, she’s been on Kit’s tail for weeks.’
‘I knew she’d invited him to the party.’
‘Does the promise live up to the reality?’
‘What?’
‘His body, Mac.’
‘Don’t.’ There must be something in my voice that warns James off, because he’s suddenly contrite.
‘It didn’t work out?’
I sent him a text as soon as I got back to the saddlery. I’m home. He sent a text back. Thank you. K.
‘My mother, James.’ A cockatoo cackles and others call out. Phoenix flicks a fly from his rump with his tail. ‘How did you know about her and Kit?’
‘According to her agent’s EA, she’s using your connection to Kit, through the documentary, to get not only to him, but Astrid.’
‘Why would Mum do that?’
‘Astrid is the next big thing—she can pick and choose her projects and actors. Working with Astrid could only be good for Clementine.’
‘Why would her agent’s EA tell you this? You didn’t sleep with her, did you?’
‘No comment.’ A car honks in the background. ‘How is Gordon?’
‘Fine when I spoke to him this morning.’
The reins in my hands aren’t the reins that my grandfather stitched, they’re the reins I stitched for myself. I don’t want to hurt Grandpa by asking questions about Dad, but hiding from the truth has the potential to hurt both of us. I also have the documentary to think about.
And then there’s Kit.
***
Immediately I sit, Grandpa repeats the question he asked last night. ‘What’s going on with Kit?’
‘The specialist is happy with his eye. He won’t need further treatment.’
‘You talked to him this morning?’
I push the plate closer. ‘You should eat, Grandpa.’
‘How did he sound?’
‘I sent a text.’
After harrumphing a little, Grandpa picks up a fork. ‘If I never saw another “soft and light meal”, I’d be a happy man. Give me a juicy beef rib any day.’
‘I’m not sure they’d come at that.’
He winks. ‘I’m not sure I’d have the breath to eat it.’
‘How about you eat your pudding while we chat?’
‘Deal.’ He places his spoon in the bowl of caramel custard before setting it aside. ‘Who’s going first?’
‘I have a few questions about Dad, but I don’t want to bring back unhappy memories.’
‘I don’t know where my head was at, to be honest, when I stored his things under the house.’
‘You didn’t want the reminders.’
‘I had less faith than you, Mackenzie, that he didn’t kill himself. From time to time …’ He lines up his knife and fork. ‘I’m ashamed to say I was angry.’
‘Storing his film was an excellent way to preserve it.’
‘There you go again, protecting me when I should’ve known better.’ He shifts position, smiles affectionately. ‘What did you want to know?’
‘A man came to the saddlery last week, Angelo Galo.’
‘You’re pulling my leg?’ Grandpa sounds incredulous. ‘Little Angelo?’
‘He’s not little any more. You remember him?’
‘He was a mate of Sam’s from school days. Primary and high school.’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘I haven’t seen him in years. He went into mining, no surprise in that, but he didn’t stay long in Summerfield. Where’d he end up?’
‘Queensland, but he said he’s still got friends here.’
‘Angelo, Lucas and Sam stuck together like glue, the three amigos they called themselves. Sam would’ve been the first to find his own way, leaving school early. Three amigos became two.’
‘I knew they were at school together, but …’ I puff out a breath. ‘Lucas Mereweather? You’re saying he was Dad’s friend too?’
‘You’ve never thought much of Lucas, but he’s always had a lot of drive. Smart as a tack—the others teased him about that. Always coming the top of the class. Unlike Samuel and Angelo, he went to university and got his degree.’
‘Dad didn’t like him.’
‘Sam was for the environment, Lucas was for mining, and Angelo went the same way. So, what did Angelo want?’
‘The documentary is primarily about the rehabilitation of the mine, but you’re an important part of Summerfield’s history, and Dad’s interest in the environment is important too. It was Dad he came to talk about.’
‘I won’t have you selling yourself short, Mackenzie. You’ve got your drawings.’
I push his pudding across the tray. ‘You promised.’
He winces but picks up the spoon.
‘Angelo said he used to talk to you on the verandah.’
‘Just like me, he liked a chat.’
I consider my words. ‘You said after Dad moved away, there were two amigos left, Angelo and Lucas. What was it like when Dad came back? Were they ever friends again?’
When Grandpa coughs, I jump to my feet. I hold out his cup but he waves away my hand.
I rub his back. ‘Should I get the nurse?’
‘No need for that.’ His voice is soft and shaky.
‘I won’t ask any more questions.’
He looks suspiciously at the caramel pudding before leaning back against his pillows. ‘I haven’t answered the last one yet.’
‘I don’t—’
He shushes me. ‘Lucas and Sam had their differences—for reasons as clear as the nose on your face. But they were close friends as boys, they had history. It hurt them both when they fell out.’
‘Lucas didn’t come to Dad’s funeral, did he? Were you upset about that?’
‘We manage grief in different ways, but Lucas never came to see me, not before the funeral or after.’ He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again they’re even sadder than they were. ‘To be honest, I was more disappointed for Lucas’s sake than my own. Sam was gone. I thought Lucas would’ve seen past what had kept him and Sam apart. I thought it’d be healing to think about the good times.’
‘Angelo came to the funeral.’
‘Trussed up like a turkey in a black suit and tie.’ Grandpa puts a tiny amount of pudding on his spoon, concentration fierce as he swallows. ‘He was doing well in business by then, mine operations, I think it was. Doing even better than Lucas, I heard.’
‘Angelo told me he was in town to visit his mates. Do you think one of them would have been Lucas?’
Grandpa puts down the spoon, shakes his head firmly. ‘It’s clear to see why Lucas and your dad didn’t get on, and Angelo and your dad for that matter, but after Sam died, from what I could see, Lucas and Angelo kept their distance too.’
When Grandpa’s eyes flutter closed, I clear the tray away. And by the time I turn back to him, he’s asleep. I pat his mouth clean, kiss the top of his head.
‘Thanks for your help, Grandpa.’ I smooth the sheets. ‘I’ll take it from here.’