Page 113 of The Side Road
‘You should do that. Uncle Leo has a terminal brain tumour.’
‘Shit! I’ll send him an email.’ He paused. ‘Mia, life is short. I need to get on with it.’
They ended the call.
Jamie was right. Life was short and she needed to pull herself together. To do this, she required all the armoury her toolkit had to offer. First, her best foot soldier needed a walk. Snood’s lead was hanging by the front door. She pulled a long jacket over her pyjamas and walked down the path. The dog followed. Fresh air and a stroll by the river would settle her mind.
The tennis ball was still in the basket by the front door, but Snood was content to amble and sniff the base of every tree they passed. His curious nature suited her pace. Heading east, they walked away from town. Berries were still covering the brambles. Late for the season, the vines grew in wild, tangled clumps. The bunnies were back, nibbling the fresh grass along the riverbank.
Mia thought about what Jamie had said. Specifically, the connection between the way her parents had loved her and her adult relationships. Her dating history wasn’t an impressive track record. Having dissected her accommodating behaviour, including her relationship with Alfie, too many times, she wasn’t going to do this again.
What did she want? There was that question again.
Love. Of course. But that was a deceptively simple answer. Did she want to get married and have a family…with Oliver? Breaking up with him hadn’t been her intention. All she wanted was to step back from the pain. Now, her actions seemed absurd. Sometimes navigating life and love were arduous tasks. Like trying to plot a difficult Fair Isle pattern blindfolded, while also riding a motorbike in the rain.
When Snood stopped to forage under a tree, she paused. Close to the bank, where the grass was lush, a large white rabbit was grazing amongst the smaller, native brown and grey bunnies. The animal wore a collar.
‘Buttons, is that you?’
Snood took off, lunging for the rabbits.
Mia, with a firm grip on the lead, skidded forward and her legs flew out from under her. Aware that she was falling backward, she threw her hands behind her, hoping to brace the fall. Off balance, her right hand took the full force of her body weight. Lying flat on the grass, she thought it could have been worse. She could have landed face-first.
Before their finalmeetings with specialists in Sydney, Leo and Blanche dropped in to see Tash and Oliver. Another of Blanche’s shoeboxes filled with photos had turned up at the back of their garage. After tipping the pictures onto the table, the four of them gathered around and discussed the names, dates, and places. They noted the old vehicles: the FJ Holden and the Ford Capri. Blanche drove a Morris Minor, and Leo once owned a Stag. Remember the Volkswagen Beetle? Blanche pointed out the clothes: flares, bell sleeves and tailored silhouettes. In the 1970s, the miniskirt was still fashionable, but jumpsuits and leather pants were gaining in popularity.
The sound of a ringing phone caused Blanche and Leo to look at Oliver.
‘It’s not me,’ he said, nodding to his phone resting on the table.
By the time Blanche found her phone at the bottom of her handbag, the caller had given up.
‘It’s Mia.’ Blanche tapped the call-back button.
‘Darling, it’s me—’ Blanche paused, listening. ‘In the hospital. What? Oh, darling! Yes. Yes. Of course. No, you’re not getting a taxi.’ Blanche paused again. ‘We’ll look after him.’ She ended the call. ‘Mia’s in the hospital. She broke her arm.’
‘Is she okay?’ Oliver asked.
‘No,’ Blanche said. ‘She thought it was a sprain and she lay awake all night in absolute agony.’
‘Was it the bike?’ Leo asked. ‘Did she come off?’
‘No. It wasn’t the bike. It was Buttons.’
As Mia walkedout of the emergency ward, she looked around for Blanche and Leo, but her gaze fell on Oliver. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. When he saw her, he lifted his head and sighed.
Mia started to cry. Raising her hand to wipe away her tears, a sharp pain shot through her arm, and she winced. Her forearm, encased in plaster, was broken in two places. It rested in a sling tied around her neck. Her head hurt. Her whole upper body ached, but the pain of her broken bones was unbearable.
In a moment, Oliver was by her side.
‘Hey, hey,’ he said. ‘It’s okay. You’re okay.’
She swallowed. ‘Why are you here?’
‘They have a doctor’s appointment in Sydney. I volunteered.’
‘You didn’t have to.’
‘I know a few things about broken bones.’
