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Authors: Elisabeth Rose
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friends.”
Tom placed his hand on her arm. “Calm down. I’m sure they love him.”
Primrose dragged in a breath of rapidly heating air. She flashed him a sort of smile, conscious of the pressure on her skin, his touch warm, firm. Loving Mojo wasn’t enough. Parents owed their children more.
“I guess so. I don’t know them.” A tiny squeeze and his fingers slid away to brush a fly from her hair. “Kurt thinks he’s a genius.”
A weak laugh covered the unexpected flutter of nerves caused by the casually intimate gestures, the unsmiling intensity of his scrutiny.
“Compared to Kurt he probably is.” Tom walked down the steps leading to the yard. His ute waited by the gate with heat waves rippling from the white surface. “You can’t expect everything to be laid on for you. It’s not a holiday resort. It’s a give and take system they work under.”
“I give and they take, so far.”
“Nothing keeping you here.” The patronising mildness of his tone infuriated her.
“You’d be pleased if I left soon, wouldn’t you? You and Mojo.” The sun beat down on their heads, cooking her brain.
“What do you care what I think? And Mojo is seven. He’s a child. But seeing as you’ve asked. No, I don’t think you’ll last long. You’re not the least bit interested in fitting in. I don’t know what miracles you expected from them here, but from my experience personal problems follow you around no matter where you are. And until you admit to yourself your attitude may be the cause, you’re stuck with them.”
“But I came here to sort myself out!” Primrose cried. “I know I need to change.”
“Fine! Good luck. But leave me out of it.”
Tom turned on his heel and reached the ute in a couple of long strides. Primrose watched with a curious, hollow ache in her chest as he swung around and accelerated away, leaving a cloud of white dust hanging in the air. Disappointment? Uncertainty? Definite regret for the violently accusing way she’d spoken to him despite a lingering feeling something was being hidden. He had every right to be angry. She’d gone about it all wrong and made another impulsive attack.
Sammy the sheep peeped around the corner but she glared at him so fiercely he didn’t dare venture further.
Why had Tom come over?
Chapter Four
Primrose trailed miserably back inside when Tom roared away. He was the only person she’d made any sort of connection with apart from Nirupam and Nirupam was in the slow, peaceful, self-centred world of late pregnancy. Danny disappeared early every day to work outdoors. They’d never talked easily and he showed no inclination to start now.
Mojo had been replaced in the kitchen by Nirupam when Primrose went to clear the tea mugs.
“Was that Tom?” She held a piece of cloth and had a selection of half moon shaped silver earrings spread before her for polishing.
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“I don’t know.” Primrose sat down and examined the jewellery. Beautiful.
She’d first met Nirupam at Mum’s bedside in the Emergency Department. She’d brought Mum in with a blinding headache which indicated the aneurysm the doctors realised too late. It was all over in ten hours. Danny only just made it in time, not that Mum knew.
First impressions of Danny’s girlfriend weren’t strong. A slim, calm girl in a loose white cotton dress, her pale, almost translucent skin dotted with light freckles. The light brown hair was still long and still hung straight from a centre parting. She and Danny had come into the ward holding hands and looking with anxious faces at the occupant of each bed they passed. Danny obviously adored Nirupam and vice versa. She remembered envying him. Envied the support his oddly named girlfriend gave without actually saying or doing much beyond being there.
Afterward, the following week, came the funeral and the accompanying legalities. There wasn’t much to fight over even if they had been so inclined. Then, a
Tom placed his hand on her arm. “Calm down. I’m sure they love him.”
Primrose dragged in a breath of rapidly heating air. She flashed him a sort of smile, conscious of the pressure on her skin, his touch warm, firm. Loving Mojo wasn’t enough. Parents owed their children more.
“I guess so. I don’t know them.” A tiny squeeze and his fingers slid away to brush a fly from her hair. “Kurt thinks he’s a genius.”
A weak laugh covered the unexpected flutter of nerves caused by the casually intimate gestures, the unsmiling intensity of his scrutiny.
“Compared to Kurt he probably is.” Tom walked down the steps leading to the yard. His ute waited by the gate with heat waves rippling from the white surface. “You can’t expect everything to be laid on for you. It’s not a holiday resort. It’s a give and take system they work under.”
“I give and they take, so far.”
“Nothing keeping you here.” The patronising mildness of his tone infuriated her.
“You’d be pleased if I left soon, wouldn’t you? You and Mojo.” The sun beat down on their heads, cooking her brain.
“What do you care what I think? And Mojo is seven. He’s a child. But seeing as you’ve asked. No, I don’t think you’ll last long. You’re not the least bit interested in fitting in. I don’t know what miracles you expected from them here, but from my experience personal problems follow you around no matter where you are. And until you admit to yourself your attitude may be the cause, you’re stuck with them.”
“But I came here to sort myself out!” Primrose cried. “I know I need to change.”
“Fine! Good luck. But leave me out of it.”
Tom turned on his heel and reached the ute in a couple of long strides. Primrose watched with a curious, hollow ache in her chest as he swung around and accelerated away, leaving a cloud of white dust hanging in the air. Disappointment? Uncertainty? Definite regret for the violently accusing way she’d spoken to him despite a lingering feeling something was being hidden. He had every right to be angry. She’d gone about it all wrong and made another impulsive attack.
Sammy the sheep peeped around the corner but she glared at him so fiercely he didn’t dare venture further.
Why had Tom come over?
Chapter Four
Primrose trailed miserably back inside when Tom roared away. He was the only person she’d made any sort of connection with apart from Nirupam and Nirupam was in the slow, peaceful, self-centred world of late pregnancy. Danny disappeared early every day to work outdoors. They’d never talked easily and he showed no inclination to start now.
Mojo had been replaced in the kitchen by Nirupam when Primrose went to clear the tea mugs.
“Was that Tom?” She held a piece of cloth and had a selection of half moon shaped silver earrings spread before her for polishing.
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“I don’t know.” Primrose sat down and examined the jewellery. Beautiful.
She’d first met Nirupam at Mum’s bedside in the Emergency Department. She’d brought Mum in with a blinding headache which indicated the aneurysm the doctors realised too late. It was all over in ten hours. Danny only just made it in time, not that Mum knew.
First impressions of Danny’s girlfriend weren’t strong. A slim, calm girl in a loose white cotton dress, her pale, almost translucent skin dotted with light freckles. The light brown hair was still long and still hung straight from a centre parting. She and Danny had come into the ward holding hands and looking with anxious faces at the occupant of each bed they passed. Danny obviously adored Nirupam and vice versa. She remembered envying him. Envied the support his oddly named girlfriend gave without actually saying or doing much beyond being there.
Afterward, the following week, came the funeral and the accompanying legalities. There wasn’t much to fight over even if they had been so inclined. Then, a
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