Free Home Before Sundown by Barbara Hannay Page B

Bella and I were planning to ring you today. Sorry, we should have rung last night, but we were stonkered. Still adjusting to time zones. We wanted to thank you for that delicious dinner you left for us. It was wonderful. Thank you so much.’
    â€˜My pleasure.’
    â€˜Bella’s not here at the moment, but I’m sure she’ll want to call you, too. You’ll have to come over some time and bring that handsome new husband of yours.’
    â€˜Thanks, Liz. Mac and I would love to see you.’
    â€˜I should warn you, though – our cooking’s nowhere near your standard.’
    â€˜Well, I can’t play the piano.’ Zoe’s voice bubbled with laughter.
    â€˜You sound very happy, dear.’
    â€˜I am, Liz. Happier than I could ever believe.’
    Liz suppressed a wry smile.
    â€˜By the way,’ Zoe said. ‘Mac asked me to let you know he’s seen to the firebreaks along your boundary and ours.’
    â€˜Oh, that’s very good of him. Please pass on our thanks. I’ll tell Bella when she gets back. She’s focusing on firebreaks first off as well. We’re praying for rain, of course.’
    â€˜I don’t like our chances. There’s no sign of a wet season yet in the forecasts.’
    They chatted a little more about Peter’s health and about Zoe’s parents, who were old friends of Liz’s, and eventually, they said goodbye. Liz hung up and went outside to let the chooks out and found herself marvelling again at Zoe’s unmistakable happiness.
    She’d known Zoe’s mother, Claire, since their days at the Con and she’d seen young Zoe often during her visits to Brisbane over the years. She’d watched the girl grow from a bright toddler into a bubbly teenager and then into a lovely, determined young woman. Zoe had always been lively and fun.
    But there was definitely something extra now. Without even seeing her, Liz could hear it in her voice.
    True love?
    Liz had long ago given up any belief in lasting romantic love. It was a phenomenon she’d certainly never experienced, beyond her music.
    Her lovers had been charming, even passionate men, but conveniently temporary. It was the way she wanted her life. Her sense of real happiness, of self-worth, came not from lovers but from the concert stage and the affection and admiration she drew from her audiences.
    Now, however, she only had to hear the warm certainty in Zoe’s voice and the tiniest sting of envy entered her heart. She shrugged it aside. She’d known from the start that coming home was dangerous. Her perspective was bound to be warped by an overdose of nostalgia.

10.
    Bella glared at the obstinate old grader, wiped her sweaty face on her shirtsleeve and glared at it again.
    Her day had not started well. The machinery shed was already stinking hot, even though she’d thrown all the doors open, and now the damn grader wouldn’t start. She pressed the starter button again and listened without much hope while the motor strained, trying . . . trying . . . to kick over.
    To her surprise, it gave a loud phut this time – the sound that usually preceded a diesel motor chugging to life – but then the bloody thing sputtered and stopped again.
    Heap of shit .
    The grader was an old thing her dad had bought second-hand from the council to use on roads and firebreaks, but Bella didn’t have a clue how to fix it. If it had a petrol motor, she could have checked the spark plugs, at least, but a diesel motor didn’t have spark plugs. She’d hit a brick wall.
    Thoroughly annoyed, she stabbed the starter one more time. Stabbed it hard, angrily. And – what the hell – stabbed it again.
    It gave a sick click and . . . died.
    Silence filled the shed.
    She’d flattened the battery.
    Bella let out a groan of pure frustration. Of all the things on the property to break down, this grader had to be the one