Sonny & Tess by Nova Weetman

Author:Nova Weetman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Queensland Press
Published: 2025-05-28T22:30:13+00:00

‘Great,’ I say. ‘So, when will you be back?’

‘It’s a nine-month contract,’ he says slowly.

I open my mouth to say something and then can’t think of the words. I watch him balance the scraps of the apple core on the arm of the chair.

‘Nine months but maybe longer. You know how it goes, Sonny,’ says Dad.

I notice the silvery patches in his hair. He’s always seemed so strong and youthful that it’s strange to imagine him ageing. I wait for him to ask me to come.

‘It’s in the middle of nowhere,’ he continues. ‘Top of the country. You know, that pointy bit. Cape York Peninsula, but not near a town.’

‘But you’re not going, are you?’ I say. ‘I thought we were going to try and stay here for a bit.’

Dad nods and then says, ‘Yes, but I’ve found someone who’s keen to rent the house.’

‘What?’

‘It’s a really good job, Sonny. And there’s nothing in Melbourne for me.’

I leap to my feet because sitting down suddenly feels too closed off and hard. ‘I’m in Melbourne.’

‘Yes, but you can come with me. We’ll be living on the land, but not in a tent. There are some basic buildings for workers.’

I’ve spent time on site before. And I’m used to living rough. But nine months is a long time. And Dad’s nine months will probably stretch out to a year or more. When he’s working, he doesn’t have time for me.

‘Mum wants me in the UK for Easter. Have you told her?’

‘No. We don’t …’ He can’t even finish the sentence. Talk. They don’t talk. Not even about me. But if I’m living somewhere remote with Dad, then flying to England becomes more complicated because there won’t be an airport nearby and it will be even harder to organise.

‘So, when do you start?’

‘I’ve already started.’

‘Which means you’ve already decided?’

He tries to explain that it’s an extension of the job he’s been doing, and that this offer only came through a day or so ago, but then he moves on to talking about how vital the work is and, at that point, something cracks for me.

I interrupt him. ‘Dad, I’ve just started at a new school. And I like it.’

Dad leans forward so that he’s within reach, like he’s about to stretch out his arm and grab my knee, but he doesn’t. ‘You can stay until the end of the term, and then next year you can do School of the Air. You’re a smart kid. You’ll be fine.’

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