Free Stone Castles by Trish Morey Page B

same stars twinkled down upon the earth.
    So many changes in all those years, she thought, as she drifted. So many changes.
    And yet so much stayed the same . . .
    Morning came with such a blast of sunshine through the open curtains that it was impossible for Pip to roll over and ignore it. There was no going back to sleep.
    So she rubbed her eyes against the glare and found her phone and some new messages from Carmen.
    How’s your gran?
    More importantly – how are you?
    The third one made her smile.
    So tell me about the wildlife
    Pip lay back against her pillows as she texted back. She knew exactly what kind of wildlife her flatmate was referring to.
    Gran’s holding.
    I’m fine.
    She bit her lip at the sudden flash of memory of a man in jeans and Blundstones but overrode that thought to text,
    And there’s a guy called Adam. A policeman.
    A reply came back almost instantaneously.
    Love a man in uniform!
    He pulled me over. Flashing lights, the lot.
    Lucky you! Cute?
    Pretty much.
    Jealous!
    Pip sent her back a smiley face and hauled herself from the bed. One night she’d treat herself to a spa, but for now the shower was hot and strong and Pip lifted her face into the stream and luxuriated in the flow. Daylight and hot showers had a wonderful way of putting things into perspective, she thought, letting the water sluice away the overblown concerns of the night. Luke was an inconvenience, that was all. She’d seen him once and she’d survived the experience and so she would again.
    Case closed.
    Now she’d slept and felt almost human again and it was a brand new day. And from now on there would be no more shocks, no more feeling sorry for herself and no more of those damned tears.
    She could hardly wait.
    It was still way too early to bother anyone else when she slipped away, although the morning sun already felt hot to her winter skin. And unlike the drive out, when she’d been battling fatigue, the drive back to the nursing home this morning was a pleasure. The rising sun turned the golden paddocks brazen and bold, and there were details she’d missed last night, details she’d forgotten about in her time away, like the clusters of paddy melons every now and then along the highway, and the callistemons with their brushes of vivid red. She smiled as a car passed her the other way, because she’d also forgotten about the country salute, the two fingers raised while the palm stayed on the steering wheel.
    By the time she reciprocated, the car was well past, but that didn’t matter. They wouldn’t think her rude as such. They’d have taken one look at the Audi and assumed she was some ignorant city chick.
    Which made her smile, because she kind of was.
    â€˜Morning Gran,’ she said a few minutes later when she arrived at the nursing home, kissing her papery brow before sliding into the seat alongside the bed. Aled Jones was singing ‘How Great Thou Art’ on the CD player and her gran’s eyes were closed, but there was that momentary twitch of the lips, that flicker of recognition that someone was there, and Pip smiled and gently put her fingers into her cool palm and chatted a while about the farm and Chloe and the dinner she’d had last night that had reminded her of dinners around their own kitchen table so many years ago. She reminisced about the treats Gran used to make for her and Trent – the butterfly cakes and thickly cut corned beef sandwiches they’d take out to the stone mounds with a flask of cordial to keep them fuelled for another day’s construction work hollowing out their hidey hole. And how, when he could slip away from his chores, Luke would join them. Sometimes they’d pretend they were deep inside a pirate ship and Luke was the captain. But more often than not the stone mounds would be their fortress, a stone castle where nobody could hurt them.
    And then, because that was suddenly dangerous territory, she