A Stone's Throw Away by Karly Lane

A Stone's Throw Away by Karly Lane

Author:Karly Lane [Karly Lane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2022-03-10T00:00:00+00:00


Eighteen

‘So tell me, what made you change your mind about doing the story?’ he asked later. They’d been talking nonstop for the best part of two hours.

‘I’m not doing a story,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I’m looking into the evidence.’

‘Yeah, yeah, we both know you’re doing a story. Might not be today, but you will.’

Pip rolled her eyes but answered his question. ‘I can’t stand injustice. I went to visit Bert and I caught a glimpse of what his life had been like all this time. It was terrible. He was a war hero—he’d been a POW and he came home broken. He gave up six years of his life for this country and they turned on him. After everything, they ridiculed and tormented him for seventy years.’ She shook her head.

‘You remind me of my mother,’ he said after a while.

This change in direction made her look up. ‘How so?’

‘She was always fighting for the underdog too.’

‘Was? Does that mean she’s passed?’

‘Yeah. A couple of years ago now.’

‘What was she like?’ Something about the way his face softened when he’d mentioned his mum made her curious.

‘She was a pocket-sized rocket—much like you,’ he said with a smile that seemed slightly bemused. ‘But with the fire of the Irish,’ he added, and his smile turned indulgent.

‘Your mother was Irish?’ she asked, surprised.

His grin told her he enjoyed revealing that little titbit. ‘Yep. She stood five foot tall if she were an inch and had long, flaming red hair.’

‘So you’re half Irish,’ she mused.

‘To be sure, to be sure,’ he said in a fair imitation of an Irish accent.

‘So what’s the other half?’ she said, reaching for her glass and taking a sip.

‘My dad was from Papunya up north, about two hundred and forty kilometres north-west of Alice Springs.’

‘How did they meet?’ She sensed the beginning of a good story.

‘Mum was a backpacker who worked her way up to Papunya. She was a teaching student back in Ireland and she volunteered at the mission near where my dad lived. The story goes she broke down one afternoon on the way back from picking up supplies, and this tall, dark, handsome ringer from a cattle station up the road came past and offered her a ride.’

‘So, you didn’t take after your dad then,’ she said, raising an eyebrow.

‘Fine, just for that, I won’t finish the story,’ he said, crossing his hands over his stomach where he sat on the floor of the lounge room, his long legs stretched out in front of him, but a ghost of a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth.

‘Okay, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I’ll refrain from any further comment.’

He sent her a righteous look but continued. ‘Mum, being a sensible woman, declined to get in the car with a stranger and kept walking. My dad, having been brought up never to leave a lady stranded, continued to drive by her side the entire ten kilometres back to the mission.’

‘Wow. Let me guess, after that,



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