“The thing is,” she said, staring straight ahead, “we’ve had a rough time of it, Adam and me. We’ve been trying to start a family for years now, and despite spending a small goddamn fortune on IVF, we’re yet to stay pregnant more than a few months. The other day, when you mentioned a school, I don’t know, I just flipped out a bit, you know? Like, I didn’t want to be reminded of what we didn’t have. You probably think I’m an awful person.”
“No, no—God no,” Skye said. “I totally understand.”
“Sounds like you’ve really been through it,” Joy added. “Poor little chook. Bobby and me, we tried. Never got very far, mind you. If you ever want to talk—”
“Thanks.” Victoria shook her head. “But let’s just drop it. I’ll only get all maudlin on you both.”
Beyond the windows, the landscape was a blur. A journey that should have taken fifteen minutes took less than ten, and Skye winced as they rounded the corner up to the hillside and almost collided with two people dragging suitcases. Victoria pulled up outside her house at an angle, dust pluming around the truck. Skye hopped out, followed by Joy, the two of them staring after Victoria as she stalked away without a word.
“Crikey,” Joy said. “I wouldn’t want to be in Adam’s thongs tonight.”
Skye wheeled around.
“Adam wears thongs?”
“Yeah, on his feet, you ’nana.”
“Thongs, as in knickers made mostly of string?”
Joy untangled her sunglasses from her frizzy hair.
“As in flip-flops or whatever you bloody Brits call them.”
“Oh…” Skye said, the word vibrating over a laugh. “That makes far more sense.”
“Listen,” Joy said as Skye struggled to control her mirth. “I need a piddle. Beers back at yours in ten?”
“Mine is full of paint fumes,” Skye replied. “I’ll come to you.”
She watched Joy walk across the hillside, her laughter draining away as thoughts of Andreas intruded. There was no sign of his truck, though she hadn’t expected there to be. Disappointment was fast becoming her companion, pushing its way to the front, ahead of the fear and anxiety that had plagued her for so many months. She glanced up at the ferocious sun, but the sky offered no answers.
A movement caught her attention. It was Tigri emerging from the side of the house and sidling toward her. The cat rubbed his slim body against her leg, mewling with the unique indignance that only cats could muster.
“You daft animal,” she said affectionately, stooping to stroke him. Tigri writhed for a moment, then he froze, yellow eyes fixed on a point in the near distance, fur rising as he arched his back.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, toppling backward as the cat bolted, his claws catching her ankles on his way.
Skye winced, dabbing at the scratches. Blood smeared her fingertips.
She looked up, squinting into the distance.
Not one figure, but two.
A mananda woman.
Her breath caught.
No.
It couldn’t be.
Thirty-nine
Mum?
Skye wasn’t sure if she’d said it aloud or if the word had simply echoed through her, breaking loose as her world slanted. Her limbs turned leaden, heavy with shock. She wanted to run, but her body wouldn’t respond. All she could do was stare, mouth slack, as her mother and Martyn walked toward her.
They didn’t belong here. Not in this place. Inherplace.
