Family Baggage by Ilsa Evans

Author:Ilsa Evans
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQ Fiction

Chapter Fourteen

Friday afternoon

The one o’clock news came on as George turned onto the main highway that wound up the mountain towards Belgrave. She increased the volume. There had only been a few wins across the fire fronts, with indeed far more losses. A woman was interviewed who had spent two nights on a Gippsland beach, her town ablaze behind her. ‘We thought we were going to die,’ she said, her voice oddly flat. George supposed that it was the shock, and that soon enough her voice would shake as much as her hands were probably doing right now.

The sun beat through the driver’s window. George flicked the visor across and then turned the radio down and the air-conditioner up. The traffic slowed as they entered the single lane that wound through the picturesque township of Belgrave. The street was relatively empty, the weather too hot even for tourists. Puffing Billy tooted in the distance, a cloud of grey-white smoke curling up into the clear sky. George took a left at the roundabout, and then another left just past the library carpark. She coasted to a stop outside a neat weatherboard house with white sash windows.

Instead of getting out, George sat for a while, considering the logistics of the coming evening. She got out her mobile and sent a text to Leo. Are you planning on going out tonight? If so, could you ask Rhyll along? I’m staying at the house so she’s home alone – but I think she’s finding things tough atm. Needs company.

His answer came almost immediately. Not a problem.

Thanks, typed George. Then she followed it up quickly with: Please don’t tell her I asked you! The reply was an emoji with zipped lips. She smiled as she slipped her mobile back into her bag and got out of the car. The smile vanished as the afternoon sun enveloped her. It was like a sauna. She hurried down the gravelled pathway and knocked on the door. It was answered almost immediately.

‘Georgette!’ said Aunt Margaret, beaming. She was wearing a cotton frock covered with roses the size of cabbages. ‘I was so pleased to get your call! You hardly ever visit. I was just saying to Lesley the other day that the only time I get to see you girls nowadays are at the big events. Christmas, Easter, birthdays … come in, come in!’

George greeted her aunt and then stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind her. It was both cooler and darker inside, the curtains drawn and the air-conditioner humming. Aunt Margaret was already heading through the lounge room towards the kitchen.

‘Christenings, anniversaries, funerals of course.’

The walls were hung with photos of Lesley at every stage of her life. Most of which Aunt Margaret was still listing.

‘Graduations, engagements, weddings.’

She raised her voice with this last, just as they came into the more brightly lit country-style kitchen. To George’s surprise, Great-Aunt Astrid was sitting at the pine table, leaning forward on her cane. She had jerked to attention at Aunt Margaret’s raised voice.

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