Free Mallawindy by Joy Dettman Page B

special that was his. Sam and May might own the property, but they didn’t have Liza.
    May couldn’t have children, and Ellie knew her sister-in-law envied their fine family. She and Sam were always offering to have the boys to Narrawee for holidays. It would have been good for the boys to see how the other half lived, but Jack wouldn’t let them go. Then, when they got Annie and Liza down there for that month, Liza had disappeared. For a long time after, Ellie believed May had stolen her, had her hidden away somewhere.Perhaps she was in some school under another name.
    If only, Ellie thought. If only. If only I hadn’t got pregnant with Bronwyn. If only Jack had been at home when I had to go into hospital. If only Sam and May hadn’t turned up and offered to take the girls. If only Johnny hadn’t let them go. If only. If. If. If.
    Until Liza disappeared, Sam and May used to come to Mallawindy once or twice a year. They hadn’t been back since. Sam couldn’t forgive himself, May wrote. Couldn’t stand to be at Narrawee either. He lived in Melbourne now, in Toorak, and employed a couple to work the property at Narrawee.
    It wasn’t poor Sam’s fault. He had nothing to feel guilty about. It was all May’s fault. Ellie had never blamed Sam. He’d flown to Brisbane the day before Liza disappeared, then driven non-stop, night and day, all the way home. He was the one who’d found Annie, buried alive in the Narrawee cellar. It hadn’t been Sam’s fault. Poor Sam. He’d been over-generous with money since then. It probably helped ease his guilt.
    Sam was the image of Jack, in looks, but so different. A true gentleman. He never touched the drink. Melbourne seemed so far away – like another country. Maybe they did have Liza. Had her in some private school down there.
    Ellie shook her head and breathed deeply, attempting to still her memories, still her doubts. The police would have found out. Bob would have found out. She’d told him of her doubts. He was such a good kind man, and so handy around the farm, too. He’d helped Ben put up some new chook pens. He’d put new glass in a broken window. He’d even taken the lounge room door off and planed the bottom so it didn’t stick. Such a help.
    Jack never lifted a finger to help. Even in the first years he’d been worse than useless around the cows. The car accident might have frightened him. Maybe he’d changed. His hand hadn’t been raised against her in the first years of their marriage. Perhaps he could change. He probably wouldn’t come home anyway.
    Both Johnny and Annie took after Jack’s side, where Ben was pure Vevers. It had taken a long time for the blood of the two families to mix, but mix they had in Bronwyn, a wild urchin. At seven, she was an odd little mixture.
    â€˜Poor Jack,’ she said, only realising she had spoken her thoughts aloud when her children turned to her. ‘Just thinking out loud, loves,’ she explained. ‘Just thinking how much Annie is like her Dad, like he was that first time I saw him. Prince Charming on an old pushbike.’
    But Ann was on her feet, her chair fallen over, her eyes angry as her hands signed, close to her mother’s eyes. ‘No! Not like him. You said like you. Yes, I am like you. Not like him. I will not be like him.’
    â€˜Shush, love. Shush.’ Ellie’s hands reached out to still the flying fingers. ‘Let me just listen to the night. Do you know what it sounds like to me? Like a tired old boxer, waiting in his corner for the bell to ring for the next round.’
    Two days later Jack arrived home on the midday bus. He had to walk from town and he was hot and sore. He dodged around the dog, who sniffed at his shoes, recalling with difficulty the scent of this man.
    â€˜Shit!’ he screamed, stubbing his perennial corn on the splaying metal foot of the sewing machine. He hopped