Read Online The Road Back by Di Morrissey - Free Book Online Page A

things. My mum isn’t like that. Says she’s modern. She’s not sentimental. And she’s a minimalist.’
    â€˜Less to dust, I expect,’ said Susan briskly.
    â€˜But I like that everything is always the same in your house. I feel safe here. Is that a funny thing to say? I don’t mean like safe from violence or anything, just well, warm,’ said Megan.
    â€˜Cosy?’
    â€˜Maybe that’s the word,’ replied Megan.
    Susan stood and leaned over to kiss the top of her granddaughter’s head. ‘My bedtime. Yours too?’
    â€˜I’m bushed,’ said Chris. ‘That drive is always longer than you think.’
    â€˜I might read a bit. G’night, Bunny, night, Dad.’
    â€˜Night, darling. Love you. I’m so happy you’re here.’ Susan hugged Megan.
    â€˜Me too.’
    After kissing his daughter good night, Chris walked to the guest room, which had been his boyhood bedroom. His mother had left a few reminders of his time there and they made him smile. His cub scout shirt with his hard-earned badges was framed and hung beside a collage of boyhood photos. A tennis trophy and a certificate for winning first prize in a short story competition sat on the dressing table beside a clumsy ceramic vase he’d made in a much-loathed pottery class. At least it doesn’t leak , thought Chris, admiring the fragrant rosebuds his mother had placed in it. He picked up a framed certificate. He must have been about Megan’s age when he’d written that short story. He’d been pretty chuffed about winning. He had always loved writing, and journalism had been a way of earning money by doing what he loved. He put the certificate down. Wouldn’t make money out of short stories these days , he reflected. Still. It’s nice to be home , he thought and he smiled to himself.
    *
    Within a day of their arrival, it was known that Chris Baxter was home and his childhood friends began to contact him. Alex Starr rang and made arrangements to meet for a drink, as did Duncan Newman, while Shaun French walked straight in the Baxters’ back door as he’d always done.
    â€˜G’day, Mrs B. I hear Chris is home. Is he staying through Christmas?’
    â€˜Hey, hey, Frenchy. I am indeed staying for the festive season.’ Chris strode into the room and clapped his old friend on the shoulder. Frenchy was a short, compact man but his personality always made him seem bigger than he actually was. ‘So what are you up to these days?’ asked Chris.
    â€˜Helping Dad run the farm. He’s a bit past getting up every morning to do the milking, but he’s right into breeding. Artificial insemination and all that. Producing better milkers. Karen’s up to her elbows experimenting in cheese making. You like haloumi, Mrs B? I’ll bring you some next time.’
    â€˜Thanks very much, Shaun. And how are your children?’
    â€˜Going great guns, thanks, Mrs B. Both in high school now. Shame they don’t have you teaching them. They’re missing out on the best. How old’s your girl now, mate?’
    â€˜Megan is fourteen. Interesting times,’ remarked Chris. ‘She’s about somewhere.’
    â€˜I needed a couple of things from the supermarket, so I asked her to pop down there for me. She won’t be long, and then we’re off to Coffs Harbour,’ said Susan.
    â€˜Is it too early for a beer? Fancy a stroll to the pub?’ asked Chris.
    â€˜Sounds good to me. Bet you’re glad to be out of the rat race in Sydney. Though I s’pose it’s nothing compared to Yankee land.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t say that,’ said Chris. ‘They both have their pluses and minuses.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t live anywhere else but here. God’s own country and we plan to keep it that way,’ said Shaun as the two of them walked out the door.
    *
    Chris whistled as he helped unload the bags and