Page 30 of Queenslander
Reg looked thoughtful. “She’s still protecting him, then. I think he’s older.” They were alone in the firehouse, but he glanced at the door behind her before he continued in a low voice. “I’m afraid it’s one of my mates.”
Shit...Now she felt sorry for him. That must be a nightmare, not knowing who he could trust. She felt a pang of guilt that he didn’t know about the break in, but it wasn’t her story to tell, and it wasn’t any of his business. Maybe he was trying to trick her into spilling the beans with a fake heart-to-heart.
Reg frowned and swore under his breath. “This isn’t an interrogation, mate. Why is your guard up all the time? Who did this to you?”
It was a fair question, but the answer wasn’t a person.
Reg continued. “I reckon we’re two angels on her shoulder. On the other shoulder there’s demons, but I don’t know who they are. I think there’s another bad influence out there, maybe the baby daddy. Someone worse than Maude.”
Who could possibly be worse than Maude?
When he put it like that, he was probably right. Weird for him to say that to his daughter’s boss over a cup of tea on a Tuesday afternoon. Reg was a bit of a drama hound, come to think of it. Nev snorted.
He got up and washed his mug, set it to dry in the rack next to the sink. “What would we talk about if Brum had her shit together?”
Good question. “Footy, obviously.” Nev washed her mug. Her conscience pricked her again. It was generous of him to accept a stranger into their lives and make her feel like she belonged.
She set her mug in the drying rack and wiped her hands on a towel. Reg watched. She wondered what he thought about her.
She jammed her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “How old are you?”
He blinked, then broke into a wide grin. “Forty-five.” She could believe that. He was lucky he still had a full head of hair. “How about you?”
“Guess.”
He chuckled. “I was taught never to guess a lady’s age.”
“I’m forty-six.”
He looked surprised.
Nev put her hat on. “Thanks for the tea. In the future, don’t talk to me about Ron.”I’m not a member of the family and I’m not your friend.
“You came to me, remember.” His expression softened. “I’ll see what I can do.”
10
GOLDEN TICKET
Mosquitos swarmed Ronnie at dusk as light spilled out Reg’s front door onto the raised veranda with the timber pillars and arched dollhouse trim. Cast in a sling, she awkwardly pulled open the screen door with the hand that was carrying a bag of ice and stepped inside. “Oi, Da! I got the ice for the esky!” Ceiling fans pulled a cross breeze through the drafty house, competing with the sports radio in the kitchen and the game on the telly.
Nonna had cooked spaghetti bolognaise and chicken parmesan.
Ronnie used the hand that wasn’t in a cast to put the ice in the cooler, then bent to hug her grandmother and give her a peck on the cheek. “Ooo, spag bol and chicken parmi, my favorite!”
“What happened to your arm?” Nonna asked, visibly concerned.
“Skateboarding accident.”
Nonna and Blaise winced in sympathy. Orphaned baby wallabies in the family room made rattling sounds when they licked their water bottles. Reg frowned across the dining room table. “Nev dropped by the firehouse.”
Ronnie pulled out a chair with the hand that wasn’t in a cast and sat down slowly. The table was silent. In the family room wallaby water bottles rattled.
“Are you all right?” Nonna asked.
“Yeah,” Ronnie lied. Inside the cast, her wrist throbbed.
“You need to be more careful,” Reg warned.
