Page 4 of The Side Road
‘The poor girl. We need to get to her as fast as we can.’
‘To the Batmobile,’ Mia said.
‘Ha ha.’ Leo smiled.
‘Explain it to me again,’ Mia said. ‘Who lives in the parsonage?’
2
THE PARSONAGE
As Oliver climbedout of the taxi, the sun dipped behind the row of liquid amber trees that lined the street. The sweet gums, blazing scarlet and orange, cast long shadows over the road. Underneath their broad branches, a carpet of autumn leaves had gathered. In this light, his hometown looked deceptively charming.
In the mid-west region of New South Wales, and set on the Cudgegong River, in the heart of wine and olive country, Eagle Nest was a cornucopia of scenic lookouts, wine tasting tours, historical buildings, and heritage walks. The surrounding fertile landscape signalled pastoral abundance, but the picturesque countryside masked decades of hard work by the grape growers and farming communities. Before European settlement, the place would have looked very different.
The taxi sat outside an old red brick building. The sign on the front lawn, erected decades ago by the historical society, said, ‘The Parsonage 1888’.
Staring out the window of the taxi, the driver asked, ‘Is that place really a parsonage?’
‘Many years ago,’ Oliver replied. ‘Now, it’s just a house. Mate, if you could pop the boot.’
A tall, broad man with steady brown eyes and rivers of dark curls, Oliver slipped on his leather jacket. Three days ago, he was four thousand kilometres away, and the temperature in the Kimberley was 39 degrees. In Eagle Nest, it was 20 degrees. The trip home had been exhausting – three flights with two lengthy delays. His joints ached. He needed a shower and a shave.
After collecting his luggage from the boot, he stacked his suitcases, one on top of the other. He slung his laptop satchel over one shoulder and looped his suit bag over his finger. As he shuffled up the path toward the old house, he half expected to see Elsie at the window, keeping tabs on the neighbours.
The screen door flew open, and twelve-year-old Tash stepped onto the porch. With her dark hair standing on end, rosy cheeks, and wearing socks without shoes, she looked wild and windswept. To his weary eyes, she was still a beautiful sight. His heart rate quickened. He hadn't seen her in six weeks.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Tash dropped her gaze and scowled. Her expression might have startled a lesser man, but Oliver stifled a laugh. After setting down his bags, he gave her a little backwards wave. ‘Come here,’ he said.
She uncrossed her arms and marched down the path toward him.
As Oliver reached out to embrace her, she slapped his hands away. ‘I called you. I called like twenty times. Why didn’t you answer your phone? What’s the point of having a phone if you don’t answer it?’
‘Honey, I spoke to you three times this morning. When I called later, Blanche told me you were asleep. I got here as fast as Qantas can fly. Now, give me a bloody hug.’ He pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her.
She rested the side of her face on his chest. ‘Sorry,’ she sniffed. ‘I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.’
‘I’ve missed you more.’ He smoothed down her messy hair and kissed the top of her head.
After rubbing her nose back and forth across his jacket, she sniffed his shirt. ‘You smell like Lynx.’
‘I can live with that.’
She wiped her eyes and then she sighed. ‘Did they get the Tiger Cub started?’
‘They did. It’s on the truck with the other bikes. Vickie and Allen send their love. Are you okay?’
‘No. It’s been horrible.’ Again, she buried her face in his chest. ‘You weren’t here. You said everything was going to be okay, but it wasn’t. Nan died. She died in her sleep.’ Tash began to cry, the tears catching in her throat.
Oliver closed his eyes. They remained huddled together, neither moving. The rhythm of their breaths and heartbeats, the only sound in the cool evening air. Life was unpredictable. People died. It happened. It was inevitable. Elsie was only seventy-five and in good health. He never expected her to die. Two days ago, when Tash found her, Oliver had received a full description of the corpse from his daughter: White as a ghost. Cold as a wet mop. Like she was half frozen, but not like she’d been in the freezer. She was still soft, sort of like wax. He had placed Tash on hold to call an ambulance. His second call was to Blanche and Leo.
‘Honey, I’m so sorry this happened,’ he said.
Tash pulled away and considered her father. ‘It’s not yourfault,’ she said. ‘We made this decision together. I wanted to be here.’
With his thumb, he wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘I have one job, and that’s looking after you. I might have dropped the ball on this plan. Sorry.’
‘You’re forgiven.’
