Read Online The Break by Deb Fitzpatrick - Free Book Online

thought.
    Plop! The water broke and they saw a marron on the line. Jarrad started whooping and jumping up and down. His dad came over.
    â€˜What is it, what is it!?’ Jarrad squawked.
    â€˜A little marron,’ Dad said. ‘You’ve jagged him. Shame. And it’s just out of season.’
    Jarrad’s face fell. ‘What, can’t I keep it?’
    â€˜Sorry, mate. There’s not enough of these little buggers
in
season, as it is.’
    â€˜But it’s only one.’
    â€˜Yeah, but if we put him back, there’ll be heaps more next summer, enough for everyone, then. Otherwise they’ll die out.’
    Sam turned back to his own line, relieved. It wouldn’t look good. Jarrad didn’t even know how to fish. He felt a bit guilty.
    â€˜Here. Use my line. I’ll wait for Dad to bait this one up again.’ Then he said a little louder, ‘Maybe we need some barbecued chook for this one, Dad, what do you reckon?’
    â€˜Oh-ho, Sam. You’re asking for it.’
    His mum rolled her eyes. ‘Having a little trouble there are you, boys?’
    â€˜Nothing to worry about here, Mum,’ Sam chirped. He turned, grinning. The sun was going down in streaks, making her stripey like a zebra. Nanna Pip was surrounded by gold powder as she watched them from her chair. The jarrahs reached up either side of the river, and Sam felt their grand presence, saw how the trees mapped the direction of the water across the land as it moved out towards the ocean, where it mixed warm and yellow at the rivermouth.

5
    The woman looked Rosie and Cray up and down, raised her eyebrows and said, ‘Yes?’ as they stood in the small office waiting for someone to acknowledge their presence.
    Rosie suddenly wished she’d worn her work clothes rather than shirt and jeans; the woman wore shoulder pads like a weapon, despite the eighties being long gone. The office was quiet, and a secretary hid behind a computer monitor.
    With Cray standing beside her, Rosie gathered herself, raised her own eyebrows in return and said, firmly but politely, ‘We’re looking for a place to rent. Long-term. Under one-fifty a week.’
    â€˜
Under
one-fifty …’
    Rosie shifted her feet on the slate floor. Yes,
under
. ‘It doesn’t have to be in the middle of town, we’re not worried about that.’
    â€˜Are you working?’
    Rosie’s heart sank. Her eyes faltered, but she held the woman’s look. She couldn’t think of the right thing to say to that.
    Cray’s voice came into the silence. ‘We’re not, yet. But if it gives you any peace of mind, we have plenty of savings and good references from our last place.’ Cray passed her an envelope containing a glowing reference from their Freo landlords, and gave her a moment to peruse it.
    â€˜Do you have anything you can show us?’ he said.
    The woman shuffled through a few folders on her desk, pulled out a couple.
    â€˜Yes, yes, I do. The car’s out the back. Come through.’
    Rosie and Cray shared a look as they let her take the lead.The first place they drew up to was a Tuscan-style townhouse, complete with black metal balcony; one of three.
Salmon pink
, Rosie thought.
It’s an abomination.
The one next door was
peach
. She couldn’t hide her disappointment, a quiet ‘oh’ coming out as they parked next to the meticulously patterned brick driveway.
    Twenty metres further up the road, at the end of the culde-sac, was the edge of the forest, with its camouflage greens and hidden sounds. Deep in there, the forest wrapped itself around the river. You could walk straight into it from the end of the road, there wasn’t a fence or a sign, just the tip of a brown path.
    â€˜A lovely place, really smart inside, very presentable. It’s brand new.’
    Rosie didn’t want to go in, knew they weren’t interested, but before they could say anything, the