Free While I Live by John Marsden Page B

as high as we were hoping for, but it’s a good price, and by selling to him you save all the costs of using a stock and station agent, and advertising.’
    I sat there feeling furious, and stubborn, as stubborn as a kid on a computer. I folded my arms and glared at him. ‘Mr Sayle, I don’t want to sell the place, or give up the leases. A couple of the paddocks are about the best in the district. Dad always said that. Those cattle were pretty poor when we got them and they’re fattening up nicely. Sure it’s going to be rough for a while but in the long run it’ll come together. I’m not being stupid about this. I know I can make it work.’
    He shook his head as he fingered his lips. ‘It’s a lovely idea,’ he said, ‘and I don’t blame you for feeling this way, when you’re still so emotional about what happened. But it’s simply not feasible. I’m sure you’ll come to see that eventually. My problem is what to do in the meantime. The longer you stay out there the more debt’s going to accumulate.’
    He went back to his folder, gave a heavy sigh, and picked up yet another piece of paper. ‘I see here that under your parents’ will, your guardian until you turn eighteen is . . . oh –’
    I already knew what he had just found out, that my guardian was Mrs Mackenzie. Showed how much homework he’d done.
    He went very red in the face. ‘Well, I’m not sure what the situation is for a minor who . . . I’ll have to talk to my colleagues. I imagine a court will say that . . . Who are your nearest relatives now?’
    ‘There’s my aunt, Mum’s sister, but she lives a thousand k’s away. They came to the funeral, but my uncle’s got cancer. And there’s my dad’s brother, Uncle Bob, but he married a Canadian lady and they live in Calgary now. He couldn’t get a flight for the funeral because of all the restrictions on the airports, but he’s rung a few times.’
    Mr Sayle pulled hard on his bottom lip. ‘It’s a very unusual situation,’ he said at last.
    ‘Why do you want to know anyway?’ I asked. ‘I don’t need a guardian.’
    He stared at me. I could almost hear the gears of his brain operating at maximum revs. Finally he said, ‘Legally of course you must have a guardian. But from my point of view it seems as though the only way to bring you to your senses is to have your guardian make the financial decisions on your behalf. An older person will see the force of my arguments.’
    ‘You mean,’ I said, taking a deep breath, ‘that my guardian could agree to have the property sold and I wouldn’t have a say in it?’
    ‘Well of course. Your guardian is in the role of a parent. Until you reach eighteen he or she makes all the decisions a parent would normally make for you.’
    I picked up Gavin from the library, where I’d left him under threat of instant death if he came looking for me again, but this time he was on a computer, so he’d been happy enough to let me go to Mr Sayle on my own. I was still speechless with rage when I tapped him on the shoulder and told him we were leaving. As I did I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflective glass in the window, and I could see the two angry red spots on my pale face.
    Even Gavin had the sense not to ask me anything until we were well clear of Wirrawee.
    Back home I headed for the phone. At times like this I needed friends, and I was lucky that one of my friends had a mother who was a lawyer.
    Fi’s mum has always been a good listener and she had plenty of opportunities to practise during this phone call. I guess I still hadn’t let loose with much in the way of emotions since my parents were killed. I hadn’t even cried. There were people around, visitors before the funeral and after the funeral, people at the funeral too, who seemed to be waiting for me to cry, who actually kept saying, ‘Go ahead and cry, Ellie, you’ll feel better,’ as though it were somehow incredibly important to them that I cry. They were