Free Wrath by Anne Davies Page A

head start, and I heard her laughing and running behind me, both of us keen to be fossicking around the river for a couple of hours.
    At that time of the year, it wasn’t so much a river as a stream, but it never completely dried up, although some years it was just a series of disconnected ponds. Huge old river gums thrust branches from one side to almost half-way across to the other, and we had climbed up and sat in the crooks of their splotched old arms. The bees were buzzing, and we lazily slapped at tiny ants that tickled our bare legs and arms as they dashed about. Neither of us said much. It felt so good there, and it wasn’t till the sun had started sliding down behind the trees and turning their silvery trunks a dull pink and cool breezes were turning chilly that we slid down and headed for home.
    It was quiet in the house. Usually Mum would be clattering around in the kitchen and getting tea ready at this time, but there was nothing. The door banged behind us, and we trailed down the dim passage. Mum and Dad were sitting at opposite ends of the table. Mum looked away as we walked in, but I saw that her face was red as though she’d been crying. She didn’t look sad, though—just determined, her lips pressed tightly together.
    Dad’s face, on the other hand was white, and his eyes were sunken. I’d only seen him look like that once before. I guess it was when I was about eight, and he’d been called out to an accident at the crossroads on the way to Ellendale. He’d been gone a long time, and when he’d come back home, he’d had that same look on his face. He’d gone straight to his and Mum’s bedroom, and we’d eaten tea alone.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with Dad?” I’d asked Mum.
    â€œIt was a bad accident, Luca. Maybe one of them didn’t stop to give way to the other one or they’d been drinking, but it seems like the driver of one car and the passenger of the other were killed.” Her voice had shaken a little. “That passenger was Daisy Farrell. You know, Mrs Farrell’s daughter who works in the chemist shop.”
    â€œBut she’s only young!” I’d protested. Young people weren’t meant to die! I’d tried to picture Daisy, and though I must have seen her heaps of times, all I could think of was her long, blonde hair and the way she laughed.
    â€œI know. She was only seventeen. It’s terrible.” Mum’s voice had cracked, and she’d put her face in her hands. “Poor Mr and Mrs Farrell. Dad went there to get the cars off the road so they wouldn’t cause any more accidents. Just leave him be tonight.”
    That’s how his face looked now. His hands were flat on the table—those blunt, square fingers always with a bit of black grease around the nails no matter how much he scrubbed them—and as Mum turned back towards us, I saw those hands tremble.
    â€œSit down, kids,” Mum said quietly. We slid onto our chairs, and she took a deep breath. “Dad and I have been talking, and he’s going to be going away.”
    â€œHe always goes away,” Katy said, her brow crinkled. “He has to drive the trucks.”
    Mum swallowed. “No, more than that, Katy. Dad isn’t going to live here anymore.”
    I felt panic rising in my chest. I had my friends, school, running and Katy, but nothing was as important as having Dad here. Without him, we’d just grind to a halt like a car running out of petrol.
    â€œBut Dad,” I protested, but he’d turned away from me.
    â€œYou’re horrible, Dad!” Katy burst out. “You just like being away from us!” She ran to her room, slamming the door. I wished she hadn’t done that. She was just making things worse.
    â€œBut where would you live?” I whispered.
    He turned and looked at me. “I don’t know, mate. I don’t know anything. But it’s what your mother wants, and