

THE TILLERMAN'S GIFT

By C J Brown

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 C J Brown

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

Thank you to my family for their encouragement and editing of my writing (although I accept full responsibility for any enduring errors).

THE TILLERMAN'S GIFT

PROLOGUE

December 1900: Somewhere off the far north coast of the Colony of New South Wales

The storm continued to rage as the heavy turbines of the _SS Halfpenny_ gradually wound down to a dull drone.

Captain William McIntyre smoothed his beard and knocked loudly on the door of the Governor's cabin.

"Enter."

McIntyre opened the door and, removing his hat, stepped inside. He held an ornate silver tray covered by a matching domed lid. The Governor of Queensland sat at the polished rosewood desk reading over his speech. The heavily embroidered velvet and linen curtains were drawn around the large, four-poster, parcel-gilt, mahogany bed.

"Your Excellency, the winds are strong and the waves high. We are taking shelter in a bay until it is safe to resume our journey."

"Thank you for keeping me informed, Captain. For how long will we be delayed?"

"I expect the storm to last only two, maybe three hours at most, Excellency."

"Good. I have no wish to be late to Melbourne for the Federation Ceremony and we..." he glanced fleetingly at the drawn curtains, "... we would rather not have to cut short our shopping days in Sydney."

A loud sneeze sounded behind the curtain.

"I trust Her Ladyship is not unwell," the Captain frowned.

"A simple allergy, Captain. We believe it may be the cats."

"The cats, Your Lordship?"

"Yes, the cats. Her Ladyship is allergic to cats. I wonder, Captain, do you think it would be asking too much to ... shall we say cull the clowder?"

The captain looked blankly at the governor.

"Cull the clowder, My Lord?"

"Yes, minify the moggies, so to speak. Clear the clutter. Lighten the litter."

The captain looked increasingly confused and stroked his chin as though it might somehow help him to understand the governor's meaning.

"He means get rid of some of those damned cats, Captain!" The shrill, nasally voice took Captain McIntyre by surprise. He had not, until that moment, heard Her Ladyship speak. More kindly-disposed folk described her as aloof. Others thought she was rather stuck-up.

"The cats, Your Lordship?"

"Yes, Captain McIntyre, the cats."

"But ...but, Your Lordship," the Captain stammered, "the cats ...catch the rats."

"Captain, I have seen no rats."

"My Lordship, that would be because the cats catch the rats."

"Indeed ... yes, and a fine job they do." Another ear-piercing sneeze and the captain thought the heavy bed curtains ballooned out at least ten inches. He winced and pressed a protective forefinger to his ear.

"Our journey..." the Governor looked sideways towards the source of the unpleasant noise, "would be considerably more agreeable for all concerned."

The captain nodded sympathetically. He turned to leave then stopped, realizing why he had come to the cabin in the first place. "I beg your pardon, Your Excellency, I almost forgot. The cook has prepared a sweet treat for you and her ladyship. He recommends it as a suitable accompaniment to a hot cup of tea."

The governor motioned to the side table and the captain set the silver tray down, removed the lid and revealed a most unusual sight.

"Simple sponge cake, My Lord, with a layer of chocolate icing. The cook has sprinkled a little coconut to remind her ladyship of home."

The governor's eyes widened. "My dear, come, look at this!"

After another sneeze, the governor's wife parted the curtain, nodded perfunctory acknowledgement of the captain and walked over to the side table.

"How delightful!" Lady Mary Lamington forced a thin smile. "It almost certainly is snowing in Scotland at the moment. Please pass my thanks on to the pastry cook."

"Certainly, Your Ladyship. And I shall look into the cat situation as soon as possible."

"As soon as possible, Captain?"

"Um, that is to say, _immediately_ , Ma'am."

With that the captain took his leave and went in search of the cabin boy.

The heavy rain drilled into Flynn's face and arms as he held the first cat by the scruff of the neck and dangled her over the side of the ship.

"That one...And that one too!" the captain had ordered a few minutes earlier, pointing at the forlorn and mangy creatures sheltering under the lifeboat. "They're nothing but fur, fleas and flatworms, those two. Toss 'em over, boy!"

"Sorry, girl. Captain's orders. In you go and good luck. Maybe you'll be better at catchin' fish than rats."

Flynn watched the bedraggled form splash into the water and disappear only to resurface a few seconds later. He did the same with the second. "Maybe you can get the sharks before they get you."

The scrawny unfortunates, selected for being the least proficient rodent hunters on board, clung to each other as wave after wave swamped them and forced them below the surging waters. But each time they kept resurfacing.

Flynn felt a pang of pity as the cats clawed at the side of the iron vessel and looked up at him as though pleading for forgiveness for their unknown transgressions.

"I s'pose it's only fair to give you a fightin' chance," he said out loud and, looking around the deck, he found a small, wooden crate under a canvas. He ran back to the side of the ship and threw it into the water. To Flynn it was a piece of rubbish, a small pine box that would not be missed and would in all likelihood fail to hold together for more than a few minutes. To the cats it was a life raft that would provide the possibility of survival, if only for a short time.

CHAPTER 1

_Saturday June 29_ th _0930 hours - Highway A1, Afghanistan_

Given the size of the country and the great distances he often travelled Ahmed Khan considered the highway drive from Jalalabad to Kabul to be relatively short and safe. The business he had conducted in Pakistan had come to a successful conclusion and although the weapons would not be available for another two weeks he was exceptionally pleased with the quality of the product. He was relieved also - relieved that he was able to convince the arms dealer to give him a considerable discount in return for a guarantee of further business in the future. It was inconvenient that the previous supplier was out of circulation indefinitely due to the annoying diligence of United Nations investigators. The man he had just met in Pakistan, on the other hand, was a newcomer to this dangerous game and was as yet unknown to the western authorities.

As usual, crossing the border into Pakistan and then back again into Afghanistan had been easy enough. He was always surprised as how little money the border guards were willing to accept in return for allowing the gold Mercedes G-500 virtually unchallenged passage. Of course it had to be American dollars. Any other currency and the price would double. Still cheap, he reckoned.

"Drive carefully, Abdul. This road has many twists and turns." Removing his thick-framed glasses, Khan allowed himself a brief moment to rest. The cool air streaming from the vent washed over his face as he absent-mindedly played with the silver key that hung around his neck.

Outside it was already a searing thirty-nine degrees. Half a kilometre away and at a vantage point above this section of road, Major Rob Harris wiped the sweat from his eyes as he spoke urgently into his VHF radio.

"Zero Alpha, we have eyes on the target. We are good to go. Catch or kill? Please confirm. Catch or kill?"

The commanding officer on the other end of the line had given the kill order the previous day but the politics of these decisions changed quickly, sometimes hourly, but always unpredictably. Harris had been instructed to gain confirmation of the order immediately prior to executing it.

To Harris's left, the Carl-Gustaf M3 rested comfortably on Corporal Paul Chan's shoulder.

"Zero Alpha, window is closing fast, sir. Twenty seconds." Still no reply.

"Confirm. Catch or kill?" Harris shouted again. The radio crackled an indistinct reply. At this range the difference for Chan between catch and kill was less than one degree. But he was, at least by his even-if-I-say-so-myself reckoning, the best the Australian Army had to offer. A call of _capture_ would see one shell cause the car to stop and a second take out a front tyre. A call of _kill_ would see one shell smash through the driver's bullet proof window and a second blow-up the engine, destroying the vehicle and its occupants.

"Zero Alpha, come in! Ten seconds, sir... Sir I need a call, now!"

"Dammit!" Harris gritted his teeth. He turned to Chan. "Capture! Capture!"

The missile blew open a crater thirty metres in front of the speeding car. The Mercedes screeched to a spinning stop.

Private Len Smith shoved another 84 millimetre missile into the breach of Chan's weapon and slapped him on the shoulder. "Go!"

With the car at a standstill the second shot would be a cinch. The front passenger tyre exploded forcing the car to roll one complete turn eventually coming to rest on its remaining wheels in gravel off to the far side of the road. Regaining his senses, Abdul tried without success to restart the engine. He looked around to see Khan bleeding profusely from a deep wound caused by his head having smashed against the reinforced steel window frame. His broken spectacles hung from one ear.

"Get me out of here, you fool!" Khan screamed.

"The engine is dead! We are not going anywhere. We will have to run for it. We might make it to the cover of those trees." He was looking at a thick grove of white poplars about fifty metres north of the car.

"If you step out of this car you are a dead man."

"If we stay here we are both dead men."

"If they wanted us dead, then we would be dead by now." Ahmed Khan leaned forward, vomited on the floor and passed out.

Harris lowered his binoculars. "Well done, Corporal. You just might be as good as you say you are after all."

"If you say so, sir. Pack it up, Smithy." Private Smith took the rocket launcher and handed Chan his F88 assault rifle.

The Afghan security forces had set up road blocks ten kilometres away in both directions from the assault site so the possibility of another vehicle straying innocently into the target zone was minimal.

"Now we wait," Harris sighed. "In this heat it shouldn't be long. At least I hope not. These camouflage uniforms might make us invisible, but if we melt away to nothing then we won't need to be."

At that moment the radio crackled back to life. "Amber 21, come in!" The voice of Lieutenant Colonel Frank Elliott sounded urgent.

"Amber 21. Go ahead."

"Can you confirm the capture?"

Harris breathed a heavy sigh of relief but tried to inject some urgency into his voice. "But, Sir, my orders were to kill." He winked at Chan. "Your transmission broke up. I couldn't make out your last message, sir."

"Dammit! The situation changed. We wanted him alive."

Chan gave the major a look that said _you're braver than I am stirring the boss like that._

"Don't worry, sir," Harris continued, deciding not to push his luck too far, "Capture confirmed. We're just waiting for the oven to heat up. Amber 21 over."

Without air conditioning, the temperature inside the car was rising rapidly. Barely ten minutes after the assault, the driver's door opened just enough to allow Abdul to hold up his arm and wave his white handkerchief.

"Major, we've got movement. Should we give the signal?"

"Not yet, Smithy. That's the driver. Let him get out, but keep him in your sights. If he tries to run take him out. Khan is probably in the back seat. I want to see his hands before we move in."

Slowly the driver's door opened fully. Abdul swung his legs out and stood. He held his right arm high above his head waving the cloth. He pressed his left hand to the back of his head. He stood there for a full minute expecting the assailants to reveal themselves. Then, realising what they must be waiting for, he took a slow step towards the back door. Keeping his please-don't-shoot-me cloth high, he reached out with his left hand and opened the door. Still making sure he made no sudden moves, Abdul leaned into the car and dragged Khan's limp body out onto the ground. He then lay face-down beside him and held both of his hands behind his head.

Harris spoke into his radio again. "Amber Three Zero. We're good to go. Let's pick up the package."

With that, the M113 APC roared out from the thick grove of trees a mere thirty metres from where the men lay on the hot gravel. In less than two minutes the Mercedes was a burning wreck and the two Taliban operatives were handcuffed, secured inside the armoured personnel carrier and on the way to the Australian base hospital.

CHAPTER 2

_Sunday June 30_ th _\- Sydney_

The sound of gunfire is deafening. Thud! Thud! Thud! Bullets from invisible guns ricochet off rocks and slam into sand. It is impossible to see the shooters. They blend in so well with the hills that they seem to be one with their surroundings. All the soldiers can do for the present is bunker down behind any small cover they can find and hope and pray that they live to see another day.

Captain Peter Katz screams into his two-way radio: Backup! We need backup!

There is no backup! comes a crackling reply. You're the only one left! The radio goes dead. Katz slowly lifts his head and peers around the rock that lies between him and death.

They've gone. His mates have all gone! They were just there and now they've gone. The voice was right. He is the only one left. It's hopeless.

Without another thought, Katz stands in full view of the hidden enemy, raises his F88 to his shoulder and aimlessly empties the magazine into the hills. His gun finally falls silent and he drops it onto the ground. Five figures appear as if by magic from the hills. Each has an AK-47 trained on Katz.

" _You have fought bravely," says one. "But now it is finished."_

Bang!

The loud noise of a window slamming shut from a sudden burst of wind and an ear-piercing scream woke Mia with a start. She and her grandmother arrived at Alison's bedroom at the same time.

"Mum, wake up!" Mia grabbed her mother's shoulders and shook her.

"I'll fetch a glass of water," said Tess hurrying off to the kitchen.

Despite the winter temperature, Alison's pyjamas and sheets were wet with sweat.

"It's okay, Mum," soothed Mia. "It's just one of your dreams. Sshh... It'll be alright."

Alison opened her eyes and looked around. Mia knew what her mother had been dreaming. The same thing she had dreamt most nights for the first twelve months after that phone call from Canberra.

" _Ms Turner? Ms Alison Turner? It's Major General Geoff Bowden, here. I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time......."_

Now, nearly two years later, Mia still remembered watching her mother's face turn from smiling and rosy-cheeked to sullen and deathly pale as the voice on the phone reported Captain Peter Thomas Katz as MIA – Missing in Action.

The term _Missing in Action_ certainly wasn't new to her. "Mia is MIA," her mother and grandmother used joke when she conveniently disappeared at washing-up time or skipped some other chore. Even her teachers would use it good-naturedly if she were late for class or for athletics training.

That stopped after the phone call. Her friends and teachers knew that she and her family needed no reminding of the pain of their loss.

Initially Mia understood this expression literally. _Missing – that's alright, he'll turn up sometime. Just like when the neighbour's cat, went missing and turned up three weeks later, fit and well, but badly in need of a good brushing and lots of attention._

It wasn't until she had overheard her mother and grandmother talking about it late one night that she knew MIA had another possible, and even much more likely, meaning. Her grandmother's house was an old, double-story place with lots of timber joints that creaked. _Like me,_ Tess often joked. The staircase was particularly prone to complaining about being walked on. Mia had quickly learned how to negotiate the stairs to avoid the sleep-disturbing squeaking of tread against riser. As she tiptoed towards the kitchen she heard the hushed conversation and the soft sobbing.

"I know, it's hard, darling," her grandmother soothed as she placed a comforting hand on her daughter's arm. "Let me top up your tea."

"I don't want more tea, Mum." Alison fondled the ring on her left hand. "And I don't want more calls from the army saying how they haven't given up and telling me to stay positive. I just want him back. Why can't they find him? Afghanistan isn't exactly a jungle – it's not Vietnam."

The reference to Vietnam bought a pained look to Tess's face.

"I'm sorry," Alison apologised, "but there is nowhere to hide where he is and the thought of him lying in a hole in the desert covered with sand. It's not right. It's not how it should be. I want him back. Back here with us. With me."

"Nowhere to hide? Ali, those mountains are full of caves."

"Yes and each one of them is probably home to a terrorist cell. What's he going to do? Sit still and pretend he's a rock!" Alison knew there was no logic to her words as she wavered between accepting that he was dead and hoping beyond all hope that he was alive, hiding until he was rescued or until the war was over. Alison's tears flowed freely and her soft sobbing grew louder.

Tess moved closer to Alison and put her arms around her. In her mind she pictured the dry desolation of an Afghanistan desert. "Maybe it's time to move on," she said softly. Then, picturing the hot, wet jungle of Vietnam she softly added, "Maybe it's time we both moved on."

Mia crept back upstairs, buried herself in her blanket and quietly cried herself to sleep.

"Here's some water for you, dear." Tess trotted back into the bedroom, looking particularly inelegant in her sheepskin boots and beanie.

"Thanks, Mum." Alison blinked the tears from her eyes. "Sorry for waking everybody."

"Don't worry about us," Mia reassured her. "We're alright."

Tess frowned as only a mother can. "You haven't had one of your nightmares for a while, Ali. Have you been taking your medication?"

"Yes, Mum. I have," replied Alison. "It's just that... things have been so busy lately...'

"And we're off on a holiday...perfect timing for everyone. So you tuck yourself back up and try to get a little more sleep. We have a big drive ahead of us."

Mia smiled to herself. Every now and then she was reminded that she wasn't the only child in the house. She had always admired her grandmother but never so much as now. She had problems with her heart but here she was fussing over her own daughter as though that were her only problem in the world.

Alison sipped her water.

"Actually, since we're all awake and it's already 4:30am, how about we start out early, beat the traffic."

Mia and Tess looked at each other and nodded their agreement.

"I'll put the kettle on," said Tess.

They had packed the station wagon the night before so that all they needed to do was have a quick breakfast before setting off for Clowder Bay.

By Tess's estimate they were in for a ten or twelve hour drive. They had decided to do the trip over two days, driving about six or seven hours on the first day before staying the night in a motel. Even though it was the beginning of the July school holiday break they had decided to take the risk of not booking a stop-over room ahead of time. This was mainly because they weren't really all that confident of how far they would go on the first day. Also Tess, with her ill-health, was beginning to lack a lot of the driving stamina she used enjoy.

"We'll play it by ear," Tess had said when planning for the trip a few months earlier. "We're not tied down to a schedule."

"Good idea, Nan," offered Mia, a little sarcastically, "That should cheer us up when we find ourselves sleeping in the car in the middle of nowhere. I bags the back seat!"

"Have a little faith, darling," Tess had replied. "Why don't you get out the roadmap and I'll put the kettle on."

Mia rolled her eyes. "Nan, I swear one day I'm going to hide your precious kettle, sit back and watch the chaos unfold."

"Hide the kettle? What a strange child you are, tormenting your old grandmother like that."

"Old! You're not old, Nan. Well, not _that_ old, for a granny that is."

"Anyway," continued Tess sounding unconcerned, "I have plenty of spare kettles hidden where you will never find them, missy. So go ahead and hide it."

_She's done it again,_ thought Mia. _Turned from teasee to teaser. Now I won't rest til I find all her hidden kettles! And she knows it!_

A final check that the grownups had their pills – Tess for her heart, Alison her sleeplessness, and an assortment of other lotions and potions to address every conceivable complaint and ailment - and they were off. By 8am they had left the city behind and were cruising north on the highway in Tess's big Chevrolet. Once on the open road it didn't take long for Mia, wrapped in her blanket on the back seat to get lost in her own thoughts leaving her mother to do her job of chatting incessantly to Tess to keep her alert behind the steering wheel.

Mia wondered if she would ever see her friends again. Her mother and grandmother sometimes spoke of wanting a _change._ At other times they spoke of wanting a _holiday_. And recently Tess had been speaking of wanting _closure_. So Mia didn't really know what to expect. But it occurred to her that she really didn't mind. She had said goodbye to her friends, just in case and, of course, they had made a fuss of her, but she wondered if she should be feeling sadder. She thought of her mother and how she was so down all the time. Of course she would be. Mia's father left them when Mia was only three years old. Mia wasn't sure if she remembered him or if it was just the photos she had seen that tricked her mind into thinking she remembered. Her mother had discovered that nearly all of their savings had disappeared from their joint bank account. It turned out Mia's father was a compulsive gambler. And not a successful one either. Alison tried to get him help but he either wouldn't or couldn't change. He always argued that the big win was just around the corner. When Mia's mother put what was left of their savings into an account that only she could access, he left, without a word. They eventually divorced and even though he had virtually stolen their life savings, the magistrate still thought he deserved a share of the little they had left. Even so, Mia's father continued to make occasional contact by phone to hassle Alison for more money. It would always end up with Alison in tears telling him that she had nothing left to give. He would become abusive and she would hang up.

Although Mia was excited at the time to be moving in with her grandmother, she didn't understand until she was older that it was because her father had left them with so much debt. They had to sell their home to pay back money to people they never knew.

Mia didn't even know her mother had a new boyfriend when, three years earlier, Alison introduced her and Tess to Peter. He was so tall and handsome in his officer's uniform that it was easy for an eleven-year-old to imagine that he had jumped out of the pages of an action-hero comic book. And while she was most impressed with the rows of multi-coloured ribbons displayed on his jacket, she was really won over when he handed her a copy of the latest, just-released Harry Potter book. And he somehow knew what chocolates were on top of Nan's list. He quickly found a place in their hearts and became a regular visitor. He was also quite a talented and entertaining amateur magician. Even Mia, as clever as she was, could not work out some of his tricks. How could he pull a whole red handkerchief out of Nan's ear? How could he snort a strand of cooked spaghetti up his left nostril and pull it out of his right one? How did he turn a scrunched up tissue into a twenty-dollar note? Although this last one didn't bother Mia so much - she figured that since it was her tissue it was now her money. Peter was, they all agreed, a lot of fun to have around. That is until his regiment was deployed to Afghanistan. That was two years ago.

He broke the news to Mia's mother on the anniversary of their first date. "Everything will be fine," he assured Alison. "I come from an army family. We're all still alive and well. I've been to Afghanistan twice before. Six months and I'll be back annoying you all again. That is, I mean, unless you find someone else you prefer in the meantime."

"Someone else?" Alison raised her eyebrows. "Peter Katz, it's taken me too long to find you to give you up in six months. But, if you're not back in seven, well...."

"I was hoping you felt like that. But just in case, I've bought a little insurance."

"Insurance? What do you mean?"

Peter took a small box from his pocket. "Will this help you to not forget me too soon?"

Alison held her breath as she carefully untied the white ribbon and opened the lid.

"Oh my goodness!" she gulped. "I didn't think they made diamonds this big."

"Yes?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes," Alison smiled.

As he said goodbye a fortnight later Alison presented Peter with her own piece of insurance; a smaller, silver version of Tess's promise key.

Peter looked closely and read Alison's name engraved in tiny letters on the key's bow.

"Just like your mother's. I thought you didn't like the idea of a promise key," Peter said, removing the chain from around his neck.

"Only because she can't let go of it even after forty years," Alison replied. "But this one is different."

Peter added the key to the two aluminium tags that already swung on his neck chain. Each was etched with his service number, his name and his blood group. He didn't explain to Alison that, in the event of his death, one tag would be removed from his body and the other placed inside his mouth. _Some things you don't need to think about._

"Now you have to come back," Alison whispered as she replaced the chain around Peter's neck. "You have my key."

They deliberately avoided watching or listening to any news about the war, although all of a sudden the other side of the world didn't seem so far away. Mia busied herself with school work and sports, Tess took on some extra teaching days at the high school and Alison tried to pretend her work as Catering Manager at the International Conference Centre was all important. Of course, it wasn't. The only thing that mattered was the life that lay ahead for them once Peter returned.

But that phone call from Canberra had changed everything. Alison's boss was understanding and patient, but eventually Alison had to concede that she was not up to the job and resigned. A few days a week, making coffee and waiting on tables at a friend's café was all she could manage.

Mia's teachers were concerned about her falling grades. Of course, in Mia's case, falling grades just meant that she was achieving an _above average_ standard instead of _well-above_.

Only Tess, up until her heart forced her to stop working, continued as before, burying herself in marking and lesson preparation.

"War does that to families..." she said cryptically one evening as though suddenly putting words to her private thoughts. Alison and Mia looked at her expecting more. They knew a little bit about Alison's father, Mia's grandfather, but Tess rarely spoke of him. They didn't even know what he looked like. Tess had no photos. The only material reminder of the man she so deeply loved was the key, she called it her _promise key_ , that had, for as long as Alison could remember, hung on her mother's bed post every night and went into her handbag whenever she left the house. The key had been passed on to Tess by the Army after Alison's father had been killed during the Vietnam War. Apart from his civilian clothing, it was, they had informed her, all he had taken with him into the army. If he did have any personal items on him when he died, the messenger had added with as much tact as the facts allowed, they would have been destroyed in the explosion that took his life on April 25th 1975. Since Tess was listed in their records as _Next of Kin_ the key became hers.

_T &CM 72_ was engraved into the key's triangular bow. As she ran her finger over the engraving Tess remembered Fudge's promise, the promise that, when he returned from the war in 1972, they would become Theresa and Charles McFudgen.

"War does that to families...and history repeats itself." Tess's words hung in the air as she stood and moved into the lounge room. After throwing another log into the fireplace she reclined in her favourite chair and stared silently into the dancing flames.

CHAPTER 3

October 1969

Tess Newell ran along Beach Road, scattering stray cats and apologising to the many people who got hit with her wildly swinging schoolbag that, through sheer weight of books, was transformed into a dangerous weapon. She swung open the Post Office door and let it slam behind her. The bell rang loudly and the _Open_ sign bounced, turned 180 degrees and now showed _Closed_.

"Whoa, slow down!" called the postmaster walking from behind the counter and over to the door to rearrange the sign. "What's the big hurry? And, while we're at it, _Good afternoon._ "

"Oh hi, Dad. I'm late and I promised Fudge I'd give him a hand this afternoon."

"What about your homework? You have that exam on Friday. You said yourself if you did well in this one you had a good chance of being dux of the graduating class."

"I have, I did. I studied all afternoon. Our Maths teacher went home sick and we had free time."

"And of course helping that dropout fix old cars is going to ensure good grades and a place at university isn't it? Doesn't it mean anything to you, Theresa? You have the chance to be one of the few students from Clowder Bay to go to university in the city. The whole world will be at your feet. You could meet a medical student and marry a doctor or maybe even a lawyer. You have such potential."

Tess wished she had sneaked in through the back door and upstairs to their flat above the post office. Too bad she had left her key at home that morning. She made a mental note to get a spare one cut and to hide it somewhere out the back where her father would never find it. Maybe in the peg basket.

Tess didn't give Albert Newell time to object further. She hurried upstairs, changed into jeans, t-shirt and sandshoes before running back downstairs.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll be home in time to make dinner."

"Well," he grumbled, "since you're going that way you might as well check if there's any mail for him."

Tess went behind the counter and looked at the pigeon-holed wall that separated the public area from the sorting room. She took a handful of envelopes from the compartment labelled M.

Matthews, Malvin... there, Mr C J McFudgen!

The envelope was imprinted with the Australian Coat of Arms. _Now why would the government be writing to Fudge? Maybe he forgot to pay some tax. He doesn't really pay a lot of attention to the finances of the business that his father left him. Maybe I should help him more with the money side of things instead of getting involved with what's going on under the bonnet._

Folding the letter and pushing it into the hip pocket of her jeans, Tess hurried from the post office, drew in a delicious, deep breath as she passed the fish and chip shop next door and ran north along the road towards the Clowder Bay Garage and Workshop.

Timothy Reynolds was in the process of shutting down the fuel pumps for the day when Tess reached the garage. He gave a wide smile and smoothed back his thick, blonde hair.

"Hi, Tess."

Tess looked at the exceptionally tall service station attendant and wondered again why he wasn't playing basketball with the national team. "Hi, Shorty. Fudge in?" She didn't have to ask, of course. She knew he would be where he always was.

"Yep, in the workshop. Where else?" Despite his size, Shorty was one of the shyest boys Tess knew and it seemed to her that he always wanted to say more than he did. But she couldn't for the life of her think what it might be.

"Well, I'd better get back to work, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess." Shorty watched Tess disappear quickly around the side of the building.

When Tess puffed her way into the big shed beside the service station, Charlie McFudgen was just a pair of legs protruding from beneath his brand new 1969 HB Torana. A cat that had laid temporary claim to the workshop sat curled up on the car roof. The car's radio was blasting at full volume. The Rolling Stones' _You Can't Always Get What You Want_ was causing the small vehicle to vibrate to the music.

"Just about finished swapping over the muffler," Fudge shouted as he recognised the legs that appeared at the doorway. "Holdens are good, but way too quiet!"

"Fudge, you really have to make sure you pay your bills or you'll end up in a lot of trouble." Tess's best impression of a cranky parent really wasn't that impressive at all.

She heard a laugh come from beneath the dusty Holden utility. "Okay, Mum?" he joked.

"It's not funny. Now the government is after you. What'll happen if you lose this business and go to jail?"

"Well for one thing," he slid himself out from his hiding place, smiling broadly through a handsome, oil-smeared face, "I won't have to listen to your twenty-four-hour-a-day nagging."

He stood to his full height just as Tess launched herself off the ground into his arms. "I've missed you today." She combed her fingers through his copper curls, brushing off imaginary fluff. "I can't stay long. Dad's in a bad mood and I have to cook him a good dinner to cheer him up. I'll save you some if you like and bring it over tomorrow after school."

"Oh don't worry about me," he said creasing his forehead, "I'll eat scraps again, I don't mind."

Tess smiled. She knew Fudge was a better cook than she was and never skipped a meal.

"Now what's this about me going to jail?"

Tess reached into her back pocket and retrieved the important-looking letter.

"Oh, a letter from the government. The Prime Minister probably wants me to hot up his limo."

Fudge walked over to the sink and washed his greasy hands. "Let's see what all the fuss is about, Miss Tess Noodle." Tess smiled. Three years earlier when, in particularly awkward circumstances, they had first met on the beach, the popular Charles "Fudge" McFudgen, with his ears full of sand and sea water, had mistakenly thought, or maybe just pretended, that Tess had introduced herself as _Tess Noodle_.

"Newell," she corrected, handing him the envelope, "If you can't even say your girlfriend's name properly what hope have you of running a business."

Tess reached into the car and turned down the radio as Fudge tore open the envelope, extracted the letter and read it aloud. As he proceeded his voice slowly lost all traces of humour and Tess felt sick.

CHAPTER 4

Mia jolted upright in the back seat of the car as a loud noise hauled her unkindly out of her peaceful sleep.

They had pulled into a service station for some fuel and morning tea. Looking out of the right-side window Mia saw a black-clad figure starting up his motorcycle. The rider looked at their car in a way that made Alison and Mia feel uncomfortable.

"What's he staring at?" asked Mia rhetorically.

"Looks like we're in bikie territory. Don't flash your cash, Mum," advised Alison. "And, Mia, don't make eye contact."

After a minute the rider gave his black Harley Davidson another guttural rev and roared off.

The day's journey proceeded uneventfully and at 5pm they reached the small town of Banksville and, unanimously deciding that they had gone far enough for one day, started to look for a motel.

The red _No Vacancy_ sign flashed on and off outside the Highway Hideout. A little farther down the road Rita's Retreat was similarly unaccommodating. Bill and Betty's Bed and Breakfast, on the other hand, was only too happy to accept the three travel-weary guests and offer them a room for the night and full use of their facilities.

"There's a lovely restaurant about a kilometre down the road," advised Bill helpfully, "and we serve breakfast between 6:30 and 8am."

Bill handed Alison the key to the room. "We only have one other guest booked in tonight and he's not here yet so there shouldn't be any arguments over the sauna or pingpong table," he joked.

Their room was large and had a queen-sized bed and a pull-out sofa bed.

"The sofa's mine!" exclaimed Mia diving on the plush cushions. "You two can put up with each other's snoring and morning breath."

"Mia," admonished Tess, "You can't have first dibs on everything. Maybe I'd like the sofa bed. Or maybe your mother would."

"Oh, sorry, Nan. Would you like the sofa-bed?"

"Well, no... but that's not the point..."

"Great, then I bags the sofa-bed."

Tess and Alison looked at each other.

"Can't live with her..," sighed Tess.

"Can't live without her..," sighed Alison.

By the time they had showered and changed they were well and truly ready to eat and decided to walk to the restaurant recommended by Bill. It was a cool night and despite a scattering of dark clouds bruising the evening sky the dome above them shone like a billion Christmas lights.

Mia looked up. "Wow! You don't see that in the city."

They stood on the footpath outside the B&B marvelling at the celestial display until a loud noise returned them to earth. The bike had turned into the driveway and come to a stop outside the reception.

Mia's eyed widened. "Is that the same...?"

"Yes it is," replied Nan. "1984 Softail. Beautiful machine. There wouldn't be many of them in Australia."

Her grandmother's knowledge of cars and motorbikes had always fascinated Mia. It didn't seem to go with her career as an English teacher.

"Don't worry about the bike," Alison said warily. "He still looks creepy."

The rider apparently didn't know he was being watched as he dismounted and walked over to Tess's car.

"Nan, he's going to steal your car!"

"And what's he going to do with it? Hide it in his saddle bag?"

The rider walked around the car, gave one of the tyres a kick, removed his helmet and disappeared into the office.

A few minutes later he came out and unstrapped his panniers before disappearing back inside.

"Nice-looking fellow," observed Tess.

A minute later a light went on upstairs.

"Oh no! He's in the room next to ours!" Alison sounded alarmed.

"Maybe he's an axe-murderer," gasped Mia. "This could really put a dampener on our holiday."

"My goodness, girls, get a grip."

"Well, Nan, don't blame us if we wake up dead in the morning to find your car gone. Good luck having a cup of tea without your head!"

"Maybe we should leave and go somewhere else," suggested Alison.

"Ali, don't be silly. We've already paid, and besides, this might be the only vacancy in town. We were lucky to find it."

"You have an interesting definition of lucky, Nan."

"I'm starving. Are you two coming?" Tess was already striding towards the centre of Banksville.

A thin strip of yellow light shone out beneath their neighbour's door as Tess, Alison and Mia tiptoed into their own room after a very filling dinner at an Italian restaurant. They very quietly dressed for bed and before long Tess was snoring her way into a deep sleep.

It was almost midnight when Mia whispered in the darkness, "Mum?"

"Yes."

"Can I come over?"

"Yes please."

Mia crept out from beneath her warm blanket and quietly slipped in between her mother and grandmother.

The black softail had already left by the time they all woke the next morning.

With a little encouragement from the manual choke the blue station wagon roared to life. Tess turned onto the highway towards Clowder Bay, Tess's home town, the place she had left when still a teenager and, in the forty or so years since, had never revisited.

"Too many memories" she would say. So Alison was taken aback when they were talking about places they might go for their holiday and Tess had said, "Maybe it's time I went home, faced my ghosts. Who knows, I might even find some answers."

"Answers to what, Mum?"

"Answers to what happened to him over there. Answers to why you've grown up without a father. Answers to why he stopped writing long before he died ..." Her voice trailed off.

Now, as they headed north, to where they hoped these answers could be found, none of them knew just how much their lives were about to change.

CHAPTER 5

It was mid-afternoon Monday when Tess, Alison and Mia turned into Beach Road, Clowder Bay's picturesque main street. The town was set against a hill. The only structures to their right were a large surf club, a sprawling caravan park and a playground that separated the road from the kilometres of golden sand that swept northwards in a long, lazy curve. Blue, clear water stretched out to the horizon. To their left were apartment blocks, shops and cafes. The hill was dotted with houses each maximising its views with verandas and large glass windows. Tess slowed to allow a family to cross to the beach. Parents struggled with towels, buckets and spades while children trailed behind, intent faces buried in cones, melted ice-cream running through fingers and dripping off elbows.

"This place is bigger than I thought it would be," remarked Alison.

"There it is!" Mia pointed to a two-level building just ahead on the left. "Cool, in the middle of everything and right opposite the main beach. Great spot!"

"A lot of this wasn't here when I was a child," Tess reminisced. "I would have known all the people in town once."

"And if you didn't know them, Nan. I bet they knew you."

Tess chuckled. "We lived further on a little, above the Post Office.

Tess and Mia started to unload their luggage while Alison went inside the Seaview Apartments and rang the bell on the desk to summon the manager.

"Mrs Turner, good to see you. How was your trip?" asked Mr Foley entering the office from a back door. They exchanged pleasantries and Mr Foley handed Alison three keys. "Adjoining apartments with a connecting door," he beamed, "just like you asked, and both with ocean views. Actually," he lowered his voice, "it will be good to have nice folks like you in that apartment after the last lot. Couple of druggies, they were. Played music all night and got up to some silly stuff. One of them came downstairs in his underpants saying how he'd just seen a giraffe walk past the window. He wanted to know how much for a ride? I called the police. They found some pills in the room and took the boys away.

"Anyway, I've had the cleaners give it a good going-over. I hope you enjoy your stay."

The trio spent the afternoon walking around the shops and strolling on the beach. While most beach-goers played, lay on the sand or splashed in the shallows, a few brave souls swam farther out under the watchful eye of the lone lifeguard.

"It's easy to pick the ones from Melbourne," joked Alison. "Now, who's for a drink and a piece of cake?"

Alison had asked Mr Foley if he could recommend a good coffee shop. "That depends," he had replied thoughtfully. "Do you know good coffee from bad?"

"I certainly do."

"Well, in that case you're out of luck. There's not a decent coffee in town. That's one thing Clowder Bay can't boast, good coffee. That should be our council slogan," he went on, " _Clowder Bay – Golden Beaches, Great Restaurants, Lousy Coffee!"_

"What about tea?" Tess asked hopefully.

"Well, Rufus jiggles a pretty good teabag. He's about four doors up."

So it was without great confidence that they took their seats at a small table on the footpath outside Rufus' Café. They had low expectations and Rufus easily achieved them.

"Do you have any mouthwash back in your room?" Tess asked of Alison as they walked towards their hotel.

"It was pretty terrible, wasn't it? You had the right idea, Mia. We should have had a milkshake as well. I'm pretty sure my cappuccino was a made from a premixed sachet. Some of the powder was still floating on top."

"You two can have your nanna-naps," announced Mia. "I think I'll go back to the beach."

"Okay. Be careful, and don't go too far," advised her mother. "We'll see you back at the hotel."

Mia walked ankle deep in the cold water watching from a distance as a group of kids, three boys and two girls about her own age, set up a game of beach volleyball. They marked the court boundaries with orange nylon cord and anchored the posts with sandbags.

"Me and Mitch against Ruby and Toby," called the tall girl who clearly saw herself as the leader.

"But what about me, Savannah?" objected the odd-boy-out.

"Oh, Jimmy, even if you do make contact, you always hit the ball out. Besides, you need two players to make a team. I have Mitch, Ruby has Toby, and you have... oh, nobody. You can keep score and fetch the ball if it takes off."

"But I helped set up the court."

"Yes, thanks for that. We appreciate it. Okay, we'll serve first."

"No, I want to play," insisted Jimmy taking up a position in the centre of the court directly under the net. "Who made you the boss anyway, Savannah?"

Savannah glared at Jimmy, clearly not pleased with this unexpected challenge to her authority. "Boss? I never said I was the boss. Go ahead and ask the others if they want you to play."

Jimmy knew that would be a useless waste of time. They always did whatever Savannah wanted.

"Oh, what's the point," Jimmy shrugged. He walked off kicking sand into the air.

"See ya, Jimmy," laughed Savannah. "Give me the ball, Toby. I'm serving."

The scene reminded Mia of the bullies at her school. _They're everywhere_ , she thought. Mia had experienced her share of teasing. It usually came in the form of being excluded from games or whispered comments as she walked past a group of kids who tried to make themselves feel big by making others feel small. It wasn't her fault that she was good at just about everything. She never boasted about getting a top mark in an assignment. If she won a race, which was just about every time she ran, she always congratulated the other competitors. " _Thanks_ ," she would say. " _I wouldn't have won if you didn't push me so hard. You're really good_." Mia did have a small group of friends that supported each other but since Peter's disappearance she had retreated from them a little and, although they were still close, she often preferred to be by herself at playtimes. Fortunately she loved reading and the library was always open during lunch breaks.

"Hi. You here on a holiday?" Mia didn't realise that she had been so lost in her thoughts. Jimmy was standing beside her.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Are you here on a holiday?" asked Jimmy again.

"Yes, we just arrived today. We're staying across the road."

"I'm Jimmy. My friends are over there."

"I'm Mia. How come you're not playing with them? Don't you like volleyball?" Mia wondered what Jimmy would say.

"No. It's not my game really. You get your mouth and pants full of sand, still lose the point and spend most of the time chasing the ball down the beach. It's stupid!"

Mia smiled. "So they won't let you play, hey."

Jimmy gave Mia a quizzical look. "You heard?"

Mia picked up a shell and threw it into the surf.

Jimmy's eyes lit up. "Hey, what say you and I make a team and join in?"

Mia felt a shiver go through her body. "Oh ... I don't think. Sorry." She had withdrawn so much from her friends that she hadn't really played with other kids for a long time. That's why she loved her running so much; it was just her. "From what I heard, I don't think that girl would agree."

"Yeah, you're probably right. She is sort of in charge. Or so she thinks."

"She's only in charge if you let her be." Mia surprised herself. _Who am I, the girl who hides away in the library, to be giving advice on bullies?_

Jimmy looked thoughtful. Then, emboldened by this brave-talking newcomer, agreed. "You know, you're right. So let's do it. She won't let us play but I'd like to see the look on her face when you ask."

Mia realised this exchange was not going the way she had intended and all of a sudden it looked like she was going to have to interact with a group of kids she hadn't ever met.

"Me? I'm not going to ask."

"Oh," Jimmy was suddenly feeling less brave.

Then Mia looked over to see Savannah deliberately slam the ball out of bounds and order one of the boys to fetch it. "If you ask, then I'll come with you."

Jimmy thought for a second. "Let's go."

_Well_ , thought Mia, _for better or worse I'm about to meet some of the locals. I won't be MIA – they'll know exactly where I am... buried up to my neck in a sand dune with seagulls picking my nose._

"Who's your new friend?" asked Toby when Mia and Jimmy walked over to the game.

"This is Mia. We're a team. We'd like to play."

"Play? You?" Savannah was clearly annoyed. "I said you're not playing."

"Umm..." Jimmy hesitated. Mia jabbed him gently with her elbow. "No you didn't," he continued. "You said it takes two to make a team. Well, here we are. One, two."

"I can count," Savannah's face was growing red, "but we already have two teams. See, one, two."

"How about we play the winner?" They all stared at Mia who, while calm on the outside, could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. _There must be a library around here somewhere._

The four players huddled together in the centre of the court. Mia could hear Savannah whispering while the others listened.

"Can you even play?" Jimmy asked Mia.

"Well, I've seen it on TV. It looks easy enough. Anyway, the idea was just to play, wasn't it? Who cares whether or not we win?"

"She does," Jimmy pointed to Savannah who was now standing glaring at the challengers.

Mia lowered her voice. "Actually, while we were talking before I was watching her. She's mostly noise and bluff. I think she just scares people into losing. My coach calls it mind games. Just don't let her into your head."

As Jimmy thought about it he realised it was fairly true. It actually did worry him, and the others he suspected, what Savannah would do or say if someone looked like beating her at something, or didn't follow her orders. She seemed to know just what to say about other kids that could cause maximum embarrassment. One boy even had to leave the school after Savannah had spread it around that he still wet the bed. Nobody even cared if it was true or not. Nobody even questioned how Savannah might know such a thing. They just loved his reaction whenever it was mentioned. And even though Savannah was the one who started the cruel rumour, she was clever enough to make sure she never said it to him directly. She left that to her minions. Unfortunately for kids like Jimmy, there weren't many their age in Clowder Bay so you had to take whatever friends you could. And it was hard enough having Asian heritage and looking so different. He had never been teased for his cultural background, and he aimed to keep it like that. But he always felt that it wouldn't take much to set them off, especially Savannah. So he 'toed the line' and tried not to give anyone an excuse to target him. And it certainly didn't help that Savannah's mother owned the building that Jimmy and his parents worked and lived in. _Be nice to Savannah_ , Jimmy's parents often warned him. _Her mother can make things difficult for us. Be nice to that girl._ Lately, however, he was finding it harder and harder to accept Savannah's domination of their group. The alleged bed-wetter had been Jimmy's friend and standing his ground in the middle of the court was risky, he knew, but he'd had just about enough.

_Don't let her into my head. Okay._ Jimmy clenched his fists determinedly. _Not sure what it means, but okay._

"Alright, let the games begin," announced Savannah picking up the ball and walking to the serve line.

"What's the score in your game?" asked Mia.

"Well, I'm sorry to say," replied Savannah, "...but Ruby seems to have hurt her wrist so the twins have forfeited. We win and now it's you two against us. First to Eleven."

Mia looked over to Ruby who suddenly wore a pained expression started nursing her right forearm in her left hand.

"Oh, bad luck," Mia sympathised.

"Yeah, I might need x-rays."

"Start the game," called Toby.

Mia was suddenly worried. She had hoped for a little more time to examine Savannah's tactics, if she had any. "Okay, Jimmy, you take the left side and cover the net. I'll hang back." As Mia turned to walk to the back of the court she felt something whack her between the shoulder blades.

"Point!" bellowed Savannah.

"Good serve," grinned Mitch.

"Oh, look!" said Alison as the two sat on the balcony of their second level apartment, "I can see Mia from here. She's made some friends already. How lovely. Mum? I said I can see..." She looked across to Tess who had that familiar faraway look in her eyes. Alison had no wish to come between her mother and whatever ghost or memory had just found her on this beautiful afternoon. _It is a big thing to come back to this place after so long. She has to deal with it in her own way._

CHAPTER 6

October 1969

Tears welled in Tess Newell's eyes as she read the letter that she had been so anxious to deliver to Charlie McFudgen. Now she wished she had burned it and buried the ashes.

COMMONWEALTH OF AUSTRALIA

DEPARTMENT OF LABOUR AND NATIONAL SERVICE

National Service Registration Office

The Commonwealth Centre

Cnr Phillip and Hunter Streets

Sydney

_24_ th _October 1969_

Dear Sir,

I am writing to inform you, in relation to your liability to call-up for national service, that you are required, in accordance with the provisions of the National Service Act, to submit yourself to medical examination before a Medical Board.

You are therefore required to attend for this purpose at Sydney District Employment Office, Grace Building, 77 York Street, at 6:15 p.m. on the Seventeenth day of November 1969.

At the same time you will be interviewed with regard to your suitability for the various postings in the Army and other matters concerning national service.

Fudge's hand was shaking visibly. He had, in accordance with the law, registered for National Service and now that he had turned twenty, he knew that being called up to the armed service was a possibility.

A month earlier, over six hundred miles away, in a gas-heated Canberra office, a bespectacled, grey-haired man in a well-pressed grey suit had leaned over a large table and placed his hand into a small, polished lottery barrel containing smooth, brown marbles. It was the second time that year that he had performed this same duty and, just as he had done once before that year, he offered a silent prayer for the young men whose lives were about to be so severely disrupted.

The marbles were numbered 182 to 365 representing the days from July 1st to December 31st. He tumbled the barrel, thrust his hand into the chamber and held the pose for the assembled media.

Television camera whirred. Newspaper cameras clicked and flashed. The grey-haired man in the well-pressed suit withdrew his hand and held the first marble secreted in his fist as a security guard ushered the media from the room. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, clear the room, please," he urged politely. "We'll see you again in the new year."

With the media gone, the grey man ceremoniously placed the small wooden marble into a special tray. "Three hundred and fifty-nine. That's December 25th," one quick-minded witness calculated. Within a month every Australian male born on Christmas Day, 1949, would receive a letter.

Then, under the watchful eyes of a handful of military witnesses a further twenty-nine marbles were drawn.

Less than three minutes later he held the final number aloft. "And finally, number 221."

August 9th, Charles McFudgen's birthday.

"You can't go. You can't," sobbed Tess holding him tighter than she ever had.

"You know I have to. The country's at war and, well, I'm prepared to do my bit." Fudge stroked Tess's hair. "Besides, if I don't sign up I go to jail and it won't be for not paying my bills. See this bit." Fudge re-read the last part of the letter:

... _failure to comply with this notice or to submit to medical examination is an offence..._

"And they're serious too. I read in the papers blokes are going to jail for refusing to enlist. Even Normie Rowe got called up and went. He's already a Lance-Corporal."

"Great, you can join him in the chorus of _Que Sera Sera_ while the Viet Cong are chasing you through the bush. I'd rather you home in jail than dead in a foreign jungle. Besides, what about us?"

"Tess, it's two years of service, and I might not even be sent overseas. Besides, the war will probably be over well before that anyway. I'll be fine."

Tess suddenly pulled back and looked into his eyes. It was something in his tone.

"You're shaking," she said.

"Of course I am. This is a big deal!"

"Yes, but you're shaking with excitement. You want to go, don't you?"

Fudge sighed and leaned back against his new car. "Well, to be honest, yes. It will be exciting. I love you, you know I do. But I don't want to look back in forty years and see that this is all I've done. I'm not my father. Clowder Bay was all he knew and all he wanted. I know dad worked hard here all his life so he could put some savings away and leave me with something but the fact is he was born here, pumped petrol and fixed cars for thirty years, served as a town councillor for a while, then died. Bloody heart attack! He went to Brisbane once for a wedding but apart from that he never strayed more than a hundred miles his whole life. That's not me, Tess. You know I can't do that."

"Fudge, Vietnam is not a holiday – it's a war."

"Well what do you want me to do? Tear the letter up then lock myself in the car when the military police turn up? No thanks. I'm no coward."

He stood and moved closer. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped the tears from Tess's cheeks. She pressed her head against his chest.

"The thought of you waiting for me back here will make the time fly." After a minute's silence Fudge took a deep breath. "Theresa Tess Newell, will you marry me?"

Tess eyes widened. _Marry him? Did he say marry?_

"Um... pardon?"

"Will you marry me?"

Tess instantly broke out in a sweat. Swallowing hard she finally found her voice. "Fudge, that's ridiculous."

"Why?"

"Well, for a start I'm only seventeen. I'm still at school. You're about to join the army. My father would never approve.... And fifty-seven other reasons I can't think of at the moment. Charles Fudge McFudgen, You're crazy."

"I don't mean now. I mean when I get back. In two years things will be so different. And all those reasons you just gave, well, except for the father thing, they won't be valid anymore. And who knows," he joked, "I might come back a general or even a war hero. Your dad would have to approve then. And we'll have the biggest wedding Clowder Bay has ever seen. The whole town will be invited. And I'll have this business and you can have a little shop ..."

"Fudge, don't be silly. We wouldn't be able to afford a big wedding."

"You'd be very surprised what I can afford, Miss Newell," he smiled cryptically. "So, is that a yes?"

"I will wait for you, Fudge, I promise."

"That's all I wanted to hear. And I don't have to be in Sydney for a couple of weeks, so we still have some time together."

Tess looked into his deep blue eyes. "Let's make it special," she whispered.

Fudge pulled Tess close. They could hear Diana Ross on the car radio: _You possess my soul now, honey, and I know, I know you own my heart..._

And Tess and Fudge had no doubt it was true.

It was well past eight o'clock when Tess walked up the stairs to her bedroom.

"What about dinner?" she heard her father call.

"Go next door and buy fish and chips," she snapped before closing her door and crying herself to sleep.

CHAPTER 7

The ball had hit Mia in the back as she walked to the base line to receive the serve.

"One nil," called Toby from the side line. "Savannah's serve again."

"That's not fair," Jimmy began to protest, "She wasn't ..."

"It doesn't matter, Jimmy," said Mia, reaching over her shoulder and rubbing her back. "Stay up at the net and get ready to hit it over."

Savannah threw the ball into the air and served again. This time the ball went to the opposite corner. Mia dived to her left and popped the ball up towards Jimmy. Jimmy, however, was so impressed with the dive that he threw his arms in air and cheered.

"You got it. Great shot, Mia! ... Oops, sorry."

"It's okay. Be ready for the next one."

"Two - nil", called Toby.

"How about I drop back and you cover the net? Would that be better?" Jimmy suggested.

"I'll try anything." Mia knew she had some work ahead of her if they were to avoid total humiliation.

"What was the score again, umpire?" Savannah asked unnecessarily.

"Two to you. None to them."

"Thanks, I thought that's what you said," she grinned. "Ready, Jimmy? This might hurt a bit."

"I'm ready, Savannah. Give it your best shot."

Savannah threw the ball high in the air then smashed it towards Jimmy who didn't even have time to move. The ball hit him on the head and rebounded towards Mia.

"Yes," exclaimed Mitch excitedly, but too soon.

Mia reacted quickly and, with fingertip control, guided the ball over the net where it landed at Mitch's feet.

"Point to us!" Jimmy screamed.

"What do you mean," Savannah objected. "That came off your face! Point to us."

"Actually," Mia pressed, "I'm pretty sure you are allowed to hit it with any part of your body." She looked over towards Ruby and Toby. "What do you say?"

The twins looked decidedly uncomfortable. They both glanced at Savannah whose glare dared them to cross her. They looked at Jimmy, whose eyes were pleading with them. They looked at Mia who just smiled.

"She seems pretty confident about the rules," whispered Toby to his sister.

"She's probably right," added Ruby. They conferred quietly for another few seconds until Savannah urged them in very impolite terms to make a decision.

"Three - nil," came the umpire's eventual call.

Jimmy covered his face with his hands. "What's the point? They're never going to let us win."

"So? What did you want when you came down to the beach?"

"To play volleyball."

"And what do you think Savannah wanted?"

"To win."

"Exactly. So it looks to me like everyone's getting what they wanted." Mia gave Jimmy an encouraging look. "Hey, can I see the ball for a second?" she asked and Mitch passed it to her. Mia immediately threw it towards Ruby who reacted quickly and caught the ball in both hands.

"Good catch, Ruby," said Mia.

"Umm...thanks," Ruby smiled.

"It's good to see your wrist is better. Your serve, Savannah."

Before too long it was _6 – Nil_. Mia knew that they had little chance of winning the game and that they might have to be satisfied with saving some pride. Jimmy was so nervous and uncoordinated that it was virtually two against one. She had to reduce the odds.

Mia could hear her coach's voice _. You have an arsenal of tools at your disposal. Sometimes the winner is the fastest. Sometimes she's the cleverest. Sometimes, she's the one who's mentally strongest._

And what if none of that is enough?

Well then you just do whatever it takes, within the rules.

Whatever it takes...

Mia frowned. _Oh gosh, am I about to do what I'm thinking?_

Then she smiled. "Is anyone else hot?"

"No drink breaks allowed." Savannah really was starting to sound annoying.

"Oh, I'm not thirsty." Mia walked off the court, took an elastic from her pocket and pulled her blonde hair back into a ponytail. She then slipped off her shorts and t-shirt.

The group fell silent. Mia's fluorescent green bathers stood out against the pale yellow sand.

_Be my girlfriend_ , thought Toby.

_We're gonna be so happy together_ , thought Mitch.

_I'll love you forever,_ thought Jimmy.

_Pretty colour,_ thought Ruby.

_Cow_ , thought Savannah as she served the ball hard at Mia.

Mia lobbed a return but Mitch's lack of concentration saw him slice the ball.

"Your serve, Jimmy." announce Mia. "Time to score a few points."

Jimmy's serve was no challenge to Savannah who bump-passed it for her partner. "Mitch, it's yours," she shouted.

Mitch ran to the net and hit the ball only half as hard as he could have in Mia's direction. Mia deftly dinked the ball back over the net where it landed safely inside the court.

"Six – One," called Toby.

"Good hit anyway, Mitch," Mia leaned her head a little to the side and fluttered her lashes. "Do you work out? You look really fit."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" blurted Savannah throwing her arms in the air.

Mitch blushed visibly. "No, not really. Just naturally athletic, I guess."

Mia turned to Jimmy. "Good work. Your serve again."

Mitch was flexing his arms and still admiring himself when Jimmy served. Mitch reacted at the last instant and the ball came off the side of his hand and rolled towards the water.

"I like this game," smiled Jimmy.

At 9 – 6 Savannah was almost salivating in anticipation of winning against the bright green intruder.

"Oh, sorry everyone," Mia suddenly announced. "My phone's ringing. It'll be my mother. I told her I'd be back by five."

Mitch screwed up his nose. "I can't hear anything,"

Jimmy grabbed her by the arm. "You can't leave now. We're in with a chance."

Savannah's shrill voice startled everyone. "Don't you dare leave!" she shrieked. "It can't be a draw. We're going to beat you. That's the whole point of playing!"

Her friends had seen her angry before. The difference now was that, unfortunately for Savannah, she knew nothing about Mia that she could use to humiliate her in front of the others. So, lost for insults, she was reduced to senseless gibbering.

Mia smiled her innocence. "It's not a draw, Savannah. We forfeit. You win. Congratulations. I really have to go, sorry. I've had a lot of fun."

"Get back here!" Savannah demanded as Mia brushed off the sand and got dressed. "Don't you ignore me!"

Then Jimmy realised that they had won, without winning. Savannah, the girl who was always so cool and in control, was embarrassing herself in front of everyone.

"Yeah, we'd better go too," said Toby. "Let's pack up the gear."

"Cool girl, hey? Shame she had to go," lamented Mitch as Mia walked away. A face full of sand made him splutter and cough. He wiped his eyes to see Savannah storming off in the direction of home.

Jimmy caught up with Mia. "Your phone wasn't ringing, was it?" Mia just grinned.

"That was brilliant!"

"What?"

"That ... that tactical forfeit."

"Yes, she's pretty upset, isn't she? Sorry, Jimmy I really do have to go." Mia had had enough of large-group interaction for one day.

"Might see you tomorrow," said Jimmy hopefully.

She turned. "Are you sure? Someone mightn't like that."

"Well, maybe that doesn't matter," called Jimmy.

Mia smiled and waved.

CHAPTER 8

"Home already," said Alison when Mia walked in. "I see you made some friends."

"Yes." Mia went straight to the refrigerator. After downing a glass of water she flopped on the sofa bed. "We're best mates. As long as I don't show my face outside this hotel I might live to tell the tale."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"No, just one girl. She's so... I don't know... controlling. The others were okay, I guess. Jimmy seemed the odd one out. He tried to stand up to her."

Alison continued towelling her hair dry. "Well, that's good. Sometimes kids like her don't realise the impact they have on others. They just act the way they've been taught. You can have your shower now if you like. When you're finished I'll knock on Nan's door. We'll go for a walk before dinner."

It was a still evening as they stood looking out across the ocean. The sun setting behind them had painted a blue and pink seascape across the horizon.

"How far away is your old home, Nan?"

"Half a kilometre maybe."

"That's not far. Let's take a look," Alison suggested.

As they walked Tess pointed out the buildings that were new, which was nearly all of them, and the buildings she remembered from her childhood. "The school is straight down that road. I used walk to and from every day. Oh," she said, pointing to the _Ocean Street_ signpost, " _Clowder Bay High School – 1.5 kilometres._ I see it's still there!"

"And _Cat Refuge two kilometres_ ," read Alison. "I haven't seen that many cats running around."

"Oh, there used to be feral cats everywhere. That's where this town gets its name. Not very romantic is it? Anyway, they seem to be pretty well under control now."

"One and a half kilometres to your school!" exclaimed Mia. "You mean you walked three kilometres each day. You were so lucky. You'd never let me do that, would you, Mum?"

"Well there's a big difference between a seaside town in the sixties and Sydney today."

"Actually," continued Tess, "I usually only walked _to_ school. In the afternoon I'd run."

"You must have been keen to get your homework done, Nan."

"No, it wasn't homework that made me hurry...." Tess paused. Mia looked at her.

"You okay, Nan?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She paused again. "I was nearly thirteen when I first saw him."

Alison held her breath fearing that her mother might stop. Alison felt entitled to know but didn't want to force Tess to talk about it. Her mother revealed so little of her past. And Alison wanted answers to Tess's questions almost as much as Tess did.

"It was my first year of high school. He was two grades ahead and left school that same year. He was fourteen and hated study. His father ran the Amoco garage so he went to work there. He never noticed me even though I would always insist that my father went to that service station whenever he needed the car filled. Just so I could catch a glimpse. All the girls agreed that he was the most handsome boy in town; tall, muscular with beautiful orange, curly hair. But we never actually spoke until three years later.

"It was a Saturday in December. I was surfing with a group of friends, body surfing, that is - only the boys had boards. I was swept up by a wave that tumbled me over and over towards the beach. Suddenly I crashed into someone, knocked him off his feet as well and we ended up in a tangle in the shallows. And that was it. I had landed the biggest fish in Clowder Bay."

"Actually, Nan, he probably thought _he_ had landed the biggest fish in Clowder Bay."

"Well, I think you're right. He certainly wasted no time asking me out. But my father was very strict. No dating until I was thirty or forty, as far as he was concerned. But we still had fun. Look, here we are! Goodness, such memories."

They stood in front of a two-storey dark brick building. The original signage on the front brickwork was still there: Clowder Bay Post Office. The glass panels, however, were stencilled with a different label: _Birman's Book Nook_. And there was another impossible-to-miss sign in large red letters: CLOSING DOWN SALE. Another sign gave details of an impending auction.

"It's such a beautiful old building," remarked Alison, "but with all the other development going on it's a wonder they haven't knocked it down."

"It's on the Town Plan Heritage Register," said Tess. "It has to be preserved. I used think it rather special living in a heritage building."

Tess cupped her face up to the glass to see what lay within. "I must come back tomorrow and have a proper look."

Alison looked across to the water. "Some lucky person will buy it. It has an amazing view."

The building was made up of two commercial spaces, sharing a dividing wall. The second shop also displayed the auction information sign.

"Fresh Seafood," read Mia. "Too bad it's shut down. I feel like some chips."

"That's hardly a meal," Alison frowned.

"I used love eating there. My father didn't though." Tess affected a posh English accent. " _I am the Post Master. I am a very important person. I couldn't possibly be seen eating at a common fish and chippery_. So I had to pretend I was buying loads for myself and I'd take his home for him so he could maintain his dignity by eating in the privacy of our own little kitchen."

Mia and Alison laughed at Tess's impersonation.

"Do you miss him, Nan?"

"Miss him? It would have been difficult raising me by himself and working at the same time. He was good at his job and was regularly encouraged to apply for more senior positions in Sydney. But it would have meant moving from here and he worried that he'd have to rely on some baby-sitter to be a surrogate parent. And when you were born, Alison, it almost seemed as if he felt responsible for me having to raise you without a father."

"But do you miss him?" Mia persisted.

"I do, yes. I wasn't the easiest child growing up. A bit of a rebel you might say. He was tough, that's for sure, and had quite a temper, but I know he always had my best interests at heart. Even when we moved to Sydney despite my protests." Tess smiled at her daughter. "And he loved you, Ali."

"I barely remember him," said Alison flatly. "Which is good... one less person to mourn."

Mia slipped her hand into her mother's. "It's getting cold. Let's walk back."

"How about that Asian restaurant we passed on the way." Alison suggested. "Not sure about chips but you can have prawns."

Ten minutes later they stood outside _Kim's Kitchen: Finest Vietnamese Cuisine._

"Hey, that's Jimmy!" Mia exclaimed suddenly. From the footpath Mia could see the kitchen door held partially open by a bucket and Jimmy cleaning the floor. The front doors were closed but the tables were set up and candles were lit.

"There's nobody eating here. Maybe it's no good." Tess tightened her forehead and looked unimpressed.

"It's not even open yet, Mum. Look: _Opening Hours: Lunch 11am to 2:30pm Dinner 6:30pm to 11pm Monday to Saturday,"_ read Alison. "It opens in five minutes."

Just then Jimmy looked up. A grin filled his face as he squeezed the mop and leaned it against the wall. "Hi, Mia," he grinned opening the heavy glass doors. "Are you stalking me or do you want to come in?"

"Hi Jimmy. We'd like to come in if we could. Mum and Nan, this is Jimmy."

"Hello, Jimmy. We're pleased to meet you," smiled Alison, "and yes please, we would like to come in but I see we're a little early."

"Oh, don't worry. Mum's just told me to open up anyway." Jimmy hooked back the glass door and ushered them to a table by the window.

Alison looked around smiling approval. "I love the décor. It's very authentic, isn't it, Mum?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Well, Jimmy," Alison surmised, "since we've only been in town for a few hours, I'm guessing you are one of the volleyball players."

"Sure am. Mia and I make a great team."

"Yeah," added Mia, "we've only ever lost one game. So your mum works here too?"

"This is our place," Jimmy replied. "Mum and dad own this restaurant. You probably won't see dad. He does all the cooking. Mum supervises and helps wait on the tables. She'll be out in a moment to take your orders. I'll get you some water and menus."

A young couple came in and stood near the door breathing in the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen. Within ten minutes the restaurant was buzzing with happy chatter. _This should make mum happy,_ thought Alison _. This place obviously has a good reputation._

"Ready to order?" An attractive woman, in her mid-forties by Alison's estimation, stood at the table with notepad and pencil at the ready. Her nametag read _Kim._

Alison looked up. "Jimmy's mother?" Kim nodded. "He's a lovely boy."

Kim returned the smile. "Thank you. I think so too."

They turned to the serious task of ordering their meal. "We'll start with some spring rolls. Two each, please."

"And chicken satays," Mia's stomach was rumbling. "Nan, you pick a main dish?"

"Oh, I'm not sure." Tess flipped through the pages of the menu. "Asian food is so spicy. My stomach is not so good with spicy food."

"Since when? You've always eaten spicy food"

"It's okay," smiled Kim obligingly. "Anything on the menu can be made mild, medium or hot. It's no problem."

Alison reached under the table and squeezed her mother's hand. "We can go somewhere else if you want."

"No, no. It's fine. Just whatever you order will be okay."

"I'll put a small jug of coconut milk on the table," said Kim helpfully. "You can just add a little if any dish is too hot for your taste."

"Thank you." Tess closed her menu and held it up. Kim took the menu but found herself staring directly into Tess's eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologised, blinking her way back to the present moment after an awkward few seconds. "I'm in a bit of a dream. This is your first visit to our restaurant, isn't it?"

"Yes, we only arrived today."

"I think she thought she knew you, Nan," Mia said when Kim had returned to the kitchen. "Does she look familiar? Maybe your families knew each other way back in the old days and she might look just like one of them."

"Oh no, darling, there were no Vietnamese families in Clowder Bay back in _the old days_ , as you love to call them. Hardly any in the whole country, compared to today."

During the evening Alison noticed Kim staring several times at Tess. _She certainly sees something familiar in Mum._

Jimmy was busy most of the night collecting used plates and cutlery and taking them to the kitchen. "Director of Cleaning Services," he grinned as he cleared their table. "I pretty much run the place."

Mia gave him a _whatever_ look.

By the time they rose to leave Tess had picked her way through almost enough to fill a small sparrow.

"Thank you. It was all very delicious." Alison stood at the counter with her credit card ready. "Jimmy and Mia met on the beach today."

"Yes. He told me. He was quite excited. He was saying something about how this new girl made Savannah Lowman look foolish. I said _I hope you stayed out of it, Jimmy. We don't want any trouble with her mother."_

"That doesn't sound very good." Alison didn't feel the slightest bit inclined to apologise for whatever Mia may or may not have done. She trusted her implicitly and if she made a bully feel uncomfortable then, well, that was good! "What do you mean _trouble_?"

Kim hesitated for a moment, wondering why she had even said that much to a complete stranger. But she had a feeling she could trust Alison and continued. "We own this business but Doris Lowman owns the building and she wants to sell it. She plans to buy the old post office and fish shop down the road and she will need money to put towards an apartment block development. But we have another two years on our lease and our contract says that she cannot sell this building until our lease if finished. So she keeps putting up the rent hoping that we will go somewhere else, or go broke."

"Well, why don't you...go somewhere else, I mean?"

"This is the best place for a restaurant. You can see how busy we've been tonight. There is only one other suitable building available and it is in a back street. It doesn't get passing traffic, or these views."

Alison looked out towards the beach. A rich butter moon was rising over the ocean, its reflection shimmying all the way to the shore. "Well, maybe she won't get council approval for her apartment block." Alison punched her pin number into the credit card machine.

"Except that she used to be the mayor and you know how it is in politics. Lots of people probably still owe her favours. Despite objections from people in the community, somehow the council voted to take the building off the Heritage Register and the development proposal was approved last year. The bulldozers are ready to move in as soon as the auctioneer's hammer falls next week."

"That's such a shame. My mother used live there. She will be very disappointed to hear that."

"Maybe she should go to the auction and give Doris Lowman run for her money."

"On a teacher's salary? I don't think so." Alison put her card back into her purse. "Thanks again. It was delicious. Sorry about my mother earlier. She'll eat anything usually. She's just having a difficult time at the moment." Alison looked around the restaurant. "All these photographs of Vietnam, they are so beautiful."

"Thank you. I took them myself."

"Really! Do you go back there often?"

"Only once, when I returned to search for my mother's grave. That's when I took these photos. My parents both died during the war."

"Did you find her grave?"

"No. She was put into prison because she had worked for the Australian government. I never found her."

Alison hesitated before going on. "My father was killed there as well. That's why my mother is a bit, you know, anything to do with Vietnam... Even though it was over forty years ago."

"I understand." There was a slight tremor in Kim's voice. "I'm sorry, I have to clear some tables."

"Thanks again." Tess and Mia were standing outside watching the moon as Alison turned to leave. She stopped. "I'd like to talk some more."

"So would I," smiled Kim.

CHAPTER 9

_Tuesday July 2_ nd _0830 hours - Australian Army Headquarters, Kabul, Afghanistan_

Lieutenant Colonel Frank Elliott sat at the table in the command room. Gathered with him were four of his most senior field officers, including Major Harris.

"Gentlemen, at the outset I'd like to congratulate all of you on the planning and execution of Saturday's operation. Particularly Rob and his team. Fine job."

Rob Harris acknowledged the compliment. "It's good to be sitting in air conditioning," he quipped.

"As you know," Elliott continued, "Khan is a Taliban leader. Taking him out of the equation will potentially save hundreds of lives. The Americans hold him responsible for at least fifty of their losses."

"Yeah, Frank, we all know what a low-life he is. What I want to know is why the call was changed from kill to capture. No one with half a brain can say the world is a better place with him in it!" Major Ken White looked as angry as he did confused.

"Things changed, Whitey. The Afghan government is under enormous pressure to get not only the people responsible for the school deaths, but as much of their network as possible. They only just realised, once Rob and his boys were in the field today, what some of us have been telling them all along - that Khan can't give any information if he's dead."

"Information! These blokes are hardcore Taliban. He's never gonna give up his network. He'd die first."

"Well, he's not going to talk and he's not going to die." The Lieutenant Colonel let the murmuring die down. "Yesterday, within hours of Khan's capture we received this via the Red Crescent." Elliot picked up the remote control that lay on the table. He clicked a button and the wall-mounted LCD screen flickered to life. The room fell silent.

The assembled officers watched and listened intently as a dark figure came into focus. The man on the screen had a shaved head and rough-cut beard. He looked thin, haggard and, to some in the room, vaguely familiar. He held a piece of paper and, with a strained but distinctively Australian voice, began to speak:

_"I am Captain Peter Katz, 7-RAR. I am being held in an unknown location."_ He stopped, let out a dry, rasping cough and continued, _"I have been instructed to read the following demand..."_ The speaker held up a sheet of paper. He paused and looked off camera. Another voice could be heard shouting, _"Read!"_

The speaker again looked directly at the camera. He held the paper in front of his face and squeezed it into fist. " _... but they can go to hell._ " The Australian soldier fell out of view as the butt of a rifle slammed against the side of his head. A hooded figure took his place in front of the camera.

"You have captured our brother, Ahmed Khan. We wish for him to be safely returned to us. Brother Ahmed has been chosen by the prophet, peace be upon him, and must be free to continue the holy war against the infidels who have invaded our country and who deny the truths contained within the most holy book."

The speaker leaned forward and retrieved the crumpled sheet of paper from the ground. He read out a series of GPS coordinates then looked again into the camera. _"We will meet there at midday tomorrow. At that time we will exchange prisoners. You will have one chance to have your man returned. You will bring your prisoner and two soldiers. If we see more than that then your man will be killed."_ The screen went blank.

The Lieutenant Colonel turned to face his officers. They looked at each other, all wanting to speak, but none being sure what to say.

Harris went first. "Katz," he shook his head in disbelief. "Is it even him? We thought he was dead. It's been two years."

"It's him alright." Major Cheryl Ferguson said, "He was one of my platoon leaders. And yes, it's been almost two years."

"He's not in good shape," added Elliott. "He certainly hasn't been on vacation."

"I'm in, Sir." Harris clenched his teeth. "I'll take my boys and do the trade."

"What?" White interjected. "You're not suggesting we go ahead with this, are you? We give them a senior commander, a murderous terrorist and in return we get back a junior officer who will most likely be immediately discharged on grounds of ill health. That's crazy!"

"I agree," added Major Paddy O'Neill. "It's not an even trade. From an operational stand point we gain nothing."

Ferguson unwittingly slapped her hand on the table. "Sorry," she apologised. "But maybe it's not all about gaining an operational advantage. Maybe it's about saving a mate who looks like he's been put through hell and come out the other side just as tough and defiant as he went in. I'm guessing that what he's been through would have broken a lot of people in this room, including me. I'm with Rob. I'll do the trade. I'll go in unarmed if that's what they want. Whatever it takes. But Katz deserves better than to be left in some hellhole to rot... or worse." They winced as they pictured what _worse_ referred to. The Taliban had a penchant for releasing videos of brutal beheadings. "Let's do the trade. We get Katz back. We can get Ahmed Khan again. We've already done it once."

"But how many people will die in the meantime." It was O'Neill's turn to thump the table. "It took months to plan today's op. You know how hard it is to get Pakistan to go along with anything. How many schools will he shoot up before we can get him again? How many innocent women and kids will die while we plan another operation?"

"Okay." Elliott held up his hand and the officers were silent. "Thanks for that. Both points of view are valid. I agree with Ken and Paddy. It's important that we not lose sight of our mission." Harris looked at Ferguson who pursed her lips and shook her head. "But," Elliott continued, "if we lose our humanity in the process we end no better than the people we're fighting and we might as well pack up and leave them to it."

Major White started to speak.

"Save it, Ken. Let me finish." Elliott walked over to where the intercom sat on a side table and pressed the speak button. "Corporal, has the package arrived?"

"Yes, sir. I'm signing for it now. I'll bring it in."

"What about Katz' family, sir," asked Ferguson. "When will they be informed?"

"We'll see how this operation pans out. No point building up their hopes unnecessarily."

Ten seconds later Lieutenant Colonel Elliott held a brown envelope. He tore it open and took out what looked to be an empty clear plastic zip lock bag. He held it up but even then the officers were hard put to see the contents.

"Maybe we can all get what we want."

CHAPTER 10

Wednesday July 3rd

Mia hesitated at the bookshop door.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you, Nan? I don't mind."

"I'm fine. It's just for old times' sake... you know. I don't think I'll be very long."

"I'll just be across at the beach. Take your time." Mia crossed the road and jogged through the park. She found a spot on a low stone wall and watched the people on the beach.

"Hello," called Tess as she entered the old book shop. "Is anybody here?"

"Hello yourself," came a voice from somewhere among the shelves and packing cases.

The shop was dimly lit and smelled just as one might imagine a room full of old books might smell – dusty, a bit mouldy. _The damp sea air wouldn't help,_ thought Tess.

A large, round figure emerged from the rear of the store. A balding man, in his sixties, guessed Tess. His glasses sat low on his nose.

"A customer!" he smiled. Tess detected a slight Scottish accent. "A reprieve, albeit brief, from the unpredictable vicissitudes of life and the capricious vagaries of commerce. Welcome!"

"Thank you. I see you're closing down. Business no good I suppose."

"No point pretending. Business is terrible. I don't think people read off paper anymore. It's all this e-book business. Downloadable books! Good grief, my poor old dad would turn in his grave. Nobody wants the real thing. It's all virtual. Virtual books, virtual games, virtual this, virtual that. And even if kids do read books these days it's likely to be a story about some virtual hero saving the virtual inhabitants of some virtual world. I'm fed up, virtually." He stopped. His eyes twinkled. "As a matter of fact, how do I know you're real? You could be a virtual person, a holograph or something."

"Goodness, have you thought of switching to decaf? Well, for one thing, a holograph wouldn't need to use your toilet. Do you mind?" Tess was keen to get upstairs and look around their old apartment.

"For customers only, sorry."

"Well, how about I promise to buy something."

"Well in that case, top of the stairs, first door on the right."

"Yes, I know." Tess noticed his puzzled expression. "I used live here."

The bookseller looked a Tess. "Used to live here, did you? I thought you looked a bit familiar. Let me think..."

"Well, you think and I'll just pop upstairs." Tess hurried past leaving the store owner scratching his shiny head as if trying to physically dig deep into some well-buried memories.

Two cats sleeping on the staircase woke with a fright and scurried past her. Tess took a deep breath as she stood at the door to what used to be her bedroom. Every bit of wall was hidden by bookshelves and nearly every bit of shelf was hidden by books. A dozen empty cardboard cartons sat in the centre of the room. To her surprise, there under the window was her old writing desk and chair. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed. The smell, the familiarity, the memories all seemed to ripple over her at once. She steadied herself and walked over to the chair. Facing the window, she took a deep breath of fresh air. Tess ran her hands over the smooth redwood desktop. It was scored with now-unreadable imprints from years of pens pushing hard on paper. She closed her eyes.

_December 15_ th _, 1969_

My Darling Fudge,

I was so happy to receive your letter and to hear how you are settling in to army life. Kapooka, such a strange and funny name.

I really am sorry to have got so emotional the day you left. I wanted to be strong to make it easier for you. It didn't quite work out as I planned. It took all my restraint to stop myself running after the bus.

Shorty said to tell you he's taking good care of your car. And he is too. It's sparkling. He also gave me some bad news. Amoco isn't going to replace you at the garage. They've decided to close it down and set up shop on a different site. They say it might even sell other things like groceries and the like, you know, for emergencies when the real shops are closed. That's awful. Your father worked so long and hard at that place. It was as if he owned it. But don't worry, when you come back I'll have a job and there won't be any big hurry for you to find some work. With your skills they will definitely employ you at the new workshop.

I got my final school results. I don't want to brag, but it's enough to say that my father was EXTREMELY pleased. And he stayed EXTREMELY pleased for a full 5 minutes ... that's when I told him that I still didn't want to go away to university. I told him what's the point. You'll be home in a couple of years and we'll be getting married. Better to wait and see what happens, where we end up living. Things like that.

With all my love, always and forever,

Tess

_January 20th_ th _, 1970_

My Dear Fudge,

I loved your letter. I wanted to write back earlier but I've been a little unwell. I seem OK now though. Your sergeant sounds like a right beast. I hope you don't lose your temper with him and end up in lock-up. I tell everyone that you've been assigned to 4-RAR. I'm not sure what it means but I'm very proud of you.

We all miss you back here. A few of us went to the beach on the weekend and Shorty took a photo of me. I've enclosed a copy just so you don't forget me.

_February 25th_ th _, 1970_

My Darling Fudge,

Before you read on you should sit down. I have the most exciting news but I'm not sure how you will feel about it. My father has not taken it very well at all. He is threatening to pack everything up and move to Sydney. But even if we do move, I will let you know where we are. He is very angry. I hope you won't be.

_I'm pregnant._ I'm _We're having a baby! I would love to see your face as I broke that news. I am so happy! Happy! Happy! And a bit scared .... No, a lot scared! Is there any way that you could get some leave and come back for a while? Just a few days?_

Please write back as soon as you get this letter.

All my love (from both of us)

Tess

_May 1_ st _, 1970_

Darling Fudge,

Well, we're moving to Sydney. Somehow dad got a promotion to the head office of the Postmaster-General's Department. He was so stuffy before. He is becoming intolerable now.

I'm so worried about you. I haven't heard from you since I wrote to you about the baby. I do hope you received that letter. Please don't be angry. Are you still in Australia? Have you been sent overseas? When it's quiet at night I like to put my hand on my tummy and talk to the baby. I want to tell her (I'm sure it's a girl) all about you and what you're up to. But if you don't write then I will have to make up some stories.

I will let you know our new address when we move.

All our love.

The sound of the bookstore owner's heavy footsteps on the staircase broke Tess's reverie. She found herself staring at the promise key, running her fingers over the engraved letters and numbers. She could still hear his words and see the shape of his lips as he made the promise: _Theresa and Charles McFudgen - that will be us._

"Theresa Newell!" The booming voice made Tess jump. She quickly slipped the key back into her handbag.

"Theresa Newell!" The book store owner's face was flushed, from excitement or the effort of climbing the stairs, Tess couldn't tell. "I knew I knew you!" He waited for a hint of recognition to cross Tess's face.

"Bertie," he declared eventually, "Bertie Birman! I was in your class at school....!" Bertie's look of jubilation turned to disappointment. "Oh dear!" He smoothed his forehead and ran his hands over his ample jowls. "I really have aged, haven't I?"

"Bertie! Of course!" Tess stood and extended her hand.

"None of that," blustered Bertie and before Tess could object he had kissed her on both cheeks and wrapped his arms around her.

"Oh, so does this mean I get to use the toilet for free?"

Bertie released his grip and took a step backwards. "Oh, don't worry about that. 'Twas was only a wee joke!" He hollered at his own wit and motioned for Tess to sit back down.

In the minutes that followed Bertie told Tess that the post master who took over from her father had stayed for ten years after which time Australia Post ended its lease and moved into the main shopping centre. Bertie's father took over the lease of the old post office and set it up as a book store. When he retired fifteen years ago Bertie took over the business.

"Now," he said, "The council is going to sell this place. Word is the favoured buyer is ready with the bulldozers."

Tess suddenly looked upset. "Yes, somebody told us that last night. I must confess I didn't believe it. How could such a beautiful place as this be taken off the Heritage Register? That's very odd, and disappointing."

"Odd indeed. There's a story there, I'm sure. Come back in twelve months and what you will see here will be a multi-storey apartment block. And I'm off to Brisbane. I'm told they still read paper books there."

Tess was tired. Partly from Bertie's excitable presence but also from the emotional rollercoaster ride that seeing her home had set her off on. And now, Bertie's confirmation that it was about to be destroyed was all a little too much to take in.

"Well, it's been lovely seeing you, Bertie. Good luck with the packing."

"And good luck to you too, Tess." Then, in a turn of sensitivity that caught Tess off guard, he added, "and I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you, Bertie." Tess felt her eyes moisten as she turned to leave but a book caught her attention. "Actually, I'll take that one."

Bertie took the book out of the half-packed carton and ran his hand over the tome as if he were about to lose a friend. " _A Journey With The Tillerman: The Collected Verses of JB Crown_. Wonderful." Bertie closed his eyes. " _Your fee to cross t'other side? I asked and tipped my hat..."_

Tess joined in, " _Just threepence, said the tillerman. A ha'penny for your cat."_

"Brilliant!" declared Bertie. "Five dollars. Where are you staying?"

He placed the thick book into a paper bag and handed it to Tess.

"Seaview Apartments."

"Brilliant."

Tess could see Mia across on the beach talking on the phone. "Thank you again, Bertie. I'd better see what my granddaughter is up to." Tess stepped out onto the footpath and was about to cross the road to the beach when Bertie called after her.

"Tess, did you ever receive the green box?"

Tess turned around and walked back to the doorway where Bertie was standing.

"Green box? I'm not sure what you mean?"

"There was a box, about so big." He drew invisible lines with his hands indicating something about the size and shape of a shoe box. "It had your name on it. It was left here by the postmaster when my father moved in. It was sitting there under the counter for years, just gathering dust. Don't know where it is now though."

"I don't know of any box." Tess replied. Then she smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Probably a gift from a secret admirer. I had so many."

"Yes," Bertie blushed, "and I confess that I was one of them. Although you would never have known it. You only had eyes for Charlie McFudgen." Bertie exhaled a resigned sigh. "None of us could compete with him. Whatever became of Fudge?"

Tess's smile disappeared. "I'd better go. Mia's waiting."

"Lunch?" called Bertie.

"Maybe," replied Tess.

"Ah, brilliant!"

CHAPTER 11

A noise in the tree above her head caught Mia's attention. It sounded like a little, squeaky voice calling her name. She looked up and squinted against the glare of the dappled sunlight.

Meeow!

"Hello, little kitty." The kitten was lying on the second lowest branch, about two metres off the ground. A larger cat would have easily made the jump but this little fellow was trembling.

"Need some help?" Mia held her hand out hoping to coax the scared animal to crawl back towards the trunk. From there it might be able to claw its way back down. But it refused to move. Mia hauled herself up on to the lower branch and reached out to the kitten.

"Don't you scratch me, or I'll leave you up here," she warned. Her threat was unnecessary. The kitten gladly accepted her outstretched hand and Mia carried it down.

The kitten was white except for a brown, small round patch on its left flank.

"What's this say?" Mia reached for the plastic tag that hung on a thin, black collar around the kitten's neck. On one side there was a phone number. "Okay. So I can call your owner and they can come and collect you." Mia turned the tag over. "OSCaR 711," she read. "Well, Oscar with a small _a_ , now that we know each other's name, let's get you home."

Mia took her phone out of her pocket and dialled the number.

"Cat refuge, Trudy speaking."

"Oh, hi. I have Oscar."

"Yes you do. Can I help you?"

"Yes, I said I have Oscar."

"Yes, this is OSCaR. What can I do for you?"

"But you said you were Trudy"

"Yes, this is Trudy."

"Well, are you Oscar or Trudy?"

"I'm sorry. Is this a joke? Am I on the radio? Are you serious? I'm on the radio!"

"What?"

Now Mia could only hear squealing coming from the other end of the phone.

"Did my boyfriend put you up to this? OMG, Darren, if you're listening, you are so totally dead!"

Mia ended the call and looked sympathetically at the kitten. "You're not lost, are you? You ran away!"

"Who's your little friend?"

"Oh hi, Nan. This is Oscar. I think he escaped from his crazy owner."

Tess tucked her book under her arm took the kitten from Mia.

"What do we have here?" Tess inspected the tag. "Oh, you're from the cat refuge. We'd better get you back then."

Tess saw her granddaughter's confused expression. "His name isn't Oscar. This stands for Ocean Street Cat Refuge and the 711 must be his ID number." Tess smiled. "Some things just aren't as they seem."

The weird telephone exchange with Trudy now made a bit more sense to Mia. "Okay. But the girl I spoke to is still crazy." Mia stroked the kitten's soft fur. "We probably should take it back."

"We were going to meet your mother for some morning tea..."

"How about I take it back, then? I'll catch up with you a bit later."

"Alright. I'll walk with you as far as Ocean Street. The refuge is only a kilometre or so past the school, on the left."

Twenty minutes later Mia reached the refuge. There was a cat flap near the front door. The sign above it read: _Please place cats carefully in chute_. Mia lifted the flap, placed the kitten inside. "Good luck, 711," she said and the kitten disappeared down the smooth stainless steel slide. Mia hoped there was a soft landing at the other end.

For a moment she was tempted to go inside and tell them to take better care of the cats. However, she really had no desire to meet Trudy face to face.

Jogging back along Ocean Street, Mia heard a voice call her name. Jimmy was walking out of the school gate dressed in what looked, at least from a distance, like pyjamas. Mia waved and Jimmy crossed the road and waited for her to reach him. By that time Mia had realised that he was dressed in martial arts pants and a loose t-shirt.

"Judo lessons?"

"Taekwondo." They started walking towards town.

"Tie what?"

"It's a bit like karate except you try to use the opponent's momentum against them. That's putting it pretty simply."

"So, who are you planning to fight?" Mia laughed.

"No, mum reckons it might give me more self-confidence. And it's a good sport ... you've seen how uncoordinated I can be. It's good for that too. Especially since I can use my feet a lot. I'm much better with my feet than with my hands."

"Yeah," Mia nodded, "I'd be better with my feet in a fight, too. I'd run as fast as I could!"

As they turned on to Beach Road a familiar voice made them both shudder.

Savannah and Mitch were across on the beach side of the road.

"Where are you two lovebirds off to then?" Savannah called.

"Yeah, where are you lovebirds off to?" Mitch echoed.

"Just going home." Jimmy continuing to walk, in the hope of discouraging further interaction.

"Yeah, sure. Gonna show the new girl some of your moves, Jimmy?" Savannah sniggered.

"Shut up, Savannah. You don't know anything."

Savannah and Mitch ran across the road and followed close behind Mia and Jimmy.

"What do you reckon, Jimmy," taunted Savannah, "you and Mitch – chopsticks at ten paces. You should be pretty good at that, hey?"

"Yeah, Jimmy. You and me."

"Ignore him, Jimmy," Mia urged under her breath. "Let's keep walking,"

But Mitch wouldn't be ignored. Savannah had not let up on him for falling for Mia's charms the previous day. _She's here on vacation,_ Savannah had reminded him. _I'm here to stay. I'm the one you have to deal with_. Mitch was left in no doubt that Jimmy had to be put back in his place. And that was at the bottom of the pack.

Mia and Jimmy stopped in their tracks when Mitch picked up speed and suddenly blocked their path. "Hey, Mia."

"Hey, Mitch." Mia went to walk around him. Mitch moved his position to block her again.

"I wouldn't waste my time on this loser," Mitch sneered towards Jimmy.

"Yeah, why is that?"

"Because he's a loser, that's why."

"I'm sorry, Mitch, but that doesn't really make much sense. You're saying Jimmy's a loser because he's a loser. Mmm... might want to put a bit more thought into that. We'd like to go now."

Mitch's glanced at Savannah then back at Mia. His expression was now more threatening. Mitch would be the first to admit that he wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier but he knew when he was being called _stupid_. And he was encouraged by Savannah's approving nod in the background.

"Jimmy's a loser because he's hanging out with you, for a start."

Mia hoped her face didn't look as red as it felt.

"We're just walking, Mitch." said Jimmy. "No big deal - leave us alone." Mia saw that Jimmy's fists were clenching.

It was Savannah's turn. "You shouldn't push your friends away, Jimmy. You're going to need friends... when you get kicked out of your place."

Jimmy turned and looked at Savannah. "What are you talking about? Who's getting kicked out?"

"You, Jimmy. You and your family. My mother says you can't afford the rent on that smelly shop of yours. She says you'll be out by the end of the month."

"That's a lie." Jimmy could feel his throat tightening. But in his mind he saw his parents whispering in the kitchen. Words like _rent, expensive, broke, relocate_ floated upwards with the steam and aromas from the stove and filled the small room.

"It's a lie!" he repeated, more angrily this time, but also less convinced of the truth of his own assertion.

"Are you calling me a liar, Jimmy? I don't like that. Mitch, Jimmy called me a liar. Do you think we should give him a chance to apologise?"

Mia had seen plenty of fights before, but had never been so close or, to be more precise, in the middle of one. It was the sort of thing that happened to other kids. But now it was unfolding in front of her. That's why she liked the library – she could block off all that playground stuff. She could get lost in a book and not worry about who's running through whose game, who's refusing to let other kids play, who's going out, who's making out, who's breaking up, who's saying foul things about whose mother, what's happened to Peter...

_What's happened to Peter!_ This last thought took Mia by surprise. _Of course she would be thinking of Peter. He was a soldier who put himself in harm's way, not to be a hero, not for money, not to show off, but because it was the right thing to do; to stand up to people who think that their beliefs, their points of view are superior to those of other people, people who deny others the right to their own opinions, the right to just get on with life in a way that respects others and doesn't harm anyone. Peter wouldn't stand back, relegating himself to the ranks of spectators in a situation like this._

Suddenly, as though an unseen force were moving her, Mia stepped in between Mitch and Jimmy. With as much assertion as she could muster, given her trembling legs and pounding heart, she looked up at Mitch and spoke loudly and assertively.

"Back off, Mitch! Jimmy's done nothing to hurt you. If you really wanted to show how tough you are you'd tell Savannah to get lost." Mia didn't know where these words came from.

Mitch was clearly taken aback.

"Don't you listen to her, Mitch," warned Savannah. "Make Jimmy apologise. Teach him a lesson!"

With that Mitch put his hands up and shoved Mia's shoulders. "Get out of the way. This is between me and Jimmy."

Mia stumbled backwards and knocked into Savannah. Both girls lost their footing and fell to the concrete footpath. Mia jumped back up quickly while Savannah swore and rubbed at her elbow. Mia was about to say something more, she didn't know what, but something to diffuse the situation. But before she could she saw Jimmy step forward and stand within half a metre of Mitch who towered over the smaller boy by at least twenty centimetres.

"You shouldn't have done that, Mitch." Jimmy's voice was low and threatening. If it weren't for the difference in size between the two boys Mia would have thought Jimmy posed a real threat to Mitch's health.

"What's wrong, Jimmy. Did I hurt your girlfriend's feelings?"

"You know, you were alright in primary school. You were fun to be around. You had lots of friends, including me. Then you ..." Jimmy searched for the words, "... went weird."

Savannah knew where this was going. "Shut up, Jackie Chan."

"Yeah, Jimmy, shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you." Mitch raised his right fist and drew his arm back ready to strike.

"Jimmy, run," screamed Mia, cursing herself for her own uselessness. But Jimmy stood his ground as both Mia and Savannah watched the battle, each hoping for a different outcome, but each expecting the same.

Suddenly Jimmy started to raise his closed hand until it was level with Mitch's face. Then he extended his forefinger in the fashion of a gun aimed into the air. "Now," he said slowly and deliberately, "is not the time for running."

"Careful, Mitch," warned Savannah sarcastically, still nursing her sore arm, "Karate Kid has a finger and he's not afraid to use it!"

"Taekwondo," continued Jimmy as though he were giving an introductory lesson to a group of ten-year-olds, "involves the use of the hand. _._."

Mitch was confused and seemed frozen in his threatening pose, fist at the ready.

Jimmy slowly moved his hand towards Mitch's face. Mitch was cross-eyed as Jimmy's finger lightly touched the tip of Mitch's nose. "...and the foot."

And with that Jimmy brought his right foot down hard on Mitch's toes.

He looked at Mia. "Now is the time for running!"

A hundred metres down the road Jimmy and Mia paused and turned to see Mitch sitting forlornly on the footpath, rocking back and forth, cradling his foot in his arms. Savannah stood over him waving her hands wildly. They could only imagine the tirade she was directing at him.

"He used be okay," panted Jimmy as they continued towards the town centre. "We were really good mates. Then he started to notice that some of the girls looked...," Jimmy smiled awkwardly.

"Looked like girls?" Mia suggested helpfully.

"Yeah. And he just became fascinated with Savannah."

"Well, she is pretty."

"Yeah, pretty nasty."

"What was that about your family getting kicked out?"

"Oh, I dunno. Savannah's mother owns the building and she's a pretty tough landlady. Mum and dad don't tell me much about it except to remind me to be friendly with Savannah. And you can see how that's working out."

"Don't you hate that? Just because we're not adults they treat us like kids. I know they want to protect us and all but sometimes you're left imagining a problem that's worse than the real thing. For example, Nan has some heart condition. Mum doesn't know what's happened to her fiancé. They talk to each other about it, but because they don't want to upset me I'm left to pick up little bits of whispered conversations and I have to fill in the gaps with my imagination. Milkshake?"

"Sure, but I don't have any money on me."

"My shout."

"No way. You buy me a milkshake and that makes it a date."

"Can't a friend just buy a friend a drink in this town?"

"How about we go past my place? I'll drop my stuff off and pick up my wallet."

"Good idea." Mia couldn't understand why she felt so comfortable in Jimmy's company. _I've known him for what, three minutes!_ Jimmy wasn't a particularly big boy, a little taller than Mia, with a wiry physique. But he'd certainly shown that he was no chicken. _Brave and funny._

Mia's phone sounded in her pocket. "That'll be mum." Mia took her phone out of her pocket and read Alison's usual but brief question: _r u ok?_ Mia tapped back :-)

"My parents reckon I don't need a phone," lamented Jimmy.

"Yeah, well things are different in the big city."

As they made their way to Jimmy's place Mia didn't notice the big, black motorcycle go past headed towards town.

CHAPTER 12

A council work crew was busily barricading off a damaged section of footpath outside _Sheila's Flowers: Florist to the Stars_. It used be plain old _Sheila's Flowers_ until an actor from an Australian soapie dropped in one day and bought a rose for his girlfriend. Sheila recognised his face but couldn't remember his name. Still, that was justification for new signage – _to reflect my clientele_ , she had boasted at the time. Two doors down was the Pacific Coast Community Bank.

Across the road Alison was absent-mindedly inspecting shoes in a boutique fashion shop. In two days it would be two years exactly since Peter went MIA. She still loved him. Of course she did. It had only been two years. But what if those two years became three? Three turned into four? When do you let go? Or do you become like Tess and never let go, still looking for answers decades later? Still clinging to, no, mourning for that promise of love forever. Carrying that promise in your handbag every day and hanging it on your bed every night ... for forty years.

Alison returned a colourful sandal, that she didn't even realise she was holding, to its place on the shelf just as the deep rumble of the motorbike sounded from across the road. The bike slowed and turned into the narrow driveway beside the bank before disappearing around the back of the building.

An almost overwhelming panic quivered through Alison's body and she found herself dodging cars as she hurried across the road, running towards instead of away from danger. Telling herself to stay calm she walked through the front door of the bank and, with as much composure as she could manage, walked past an elderly gentleman supporting himself with a walking stick and quickly proceeded to the counter.

"Excuse me, miss."

"I'm sorry, madam, this gentleman was first. Would you mind moving to the end of the line? I'm sorry, Mr Davies, please come forward."

Alison stood her ground. "Well, under normal circumstances I would, but ..." Alison read the girl's nametag, "..., Zoe, there is a small emergency. I need to speak to the manager."  
Zoe raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side. "And I'm guessing you don't have an appointment."

"No, please hurry."

"Look, I'm not even sure if he's in yet."

"Well, in that case you had better decide what to do. There is about to be a robbery."

Alison anticipated a commotion. She readied herself for the sound of alarms, flashing lights, slamming security grills and police sirens. Zoe, however, just stared back at her.

"Say what?" Mr Davies moved a little closer and fiddled with his hearing aid. "A corroboree? In here? What a silly idea. I want to see the manager, too."

"Look," Zoe raised her hands and motioned for everyone to calm down. "Mr Davies, there's not going to be a corroboree. She said _robbery_."

"Oh, thank goodness. All that smoke. No good for the asthma, you know. You gave me quite a fright. But I suppose a robbery isn't much good either. I'm just going to sit down for a moment."

"There's a man, on a motorbike." Alison continued. "He's been following us for days. He's definitely up to no good. He might even be...," Alison looked around cautiously to accentuate the gravity of what she was about to reveal, "... a murderer!"

At that moment a door behind Zoe opened, and there he stood. Alison's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She wanted to scream, she wanted to run, but every muscle had seized up.

Zoe quickly turned around.

"Oh, you're back, Dep. Just in time. This lady wants to report a robbery... that hasn't actually happened yet."

"Well, that sounds serious," the manager frowned. "You'd better step into my office. Please come in."

Alison was trying to make sense of what was happening. In her mind she replayed the events of the past couple of days that involved this tall stranger: the encounter at the service station, his turning up at the same B&B then prowling around her mother's car.

"Please," he repeated, "Come in."

_Just because he's a bank manager doesn't mean he's not an axe-murderer. But I should be safe here_. She walked around the counter and followed him into his office.

"Do you mind if we leave the door open?" she asked.

"Of course." They both sat down.

"Now, how can I help? You have some information about a planned robbery, is that right?"

Alison felt her head tingle as a red embarrassment crept up from her neck to her forehead. "I think..." she stuttered, "... I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding."

"You look upset, Miss...?"

"Turner. Alison Turner."

"I'm Dep Chandra." He took a business card from his pocket and handed it to Alison. "I have an idea. I've been on the road all morning and need a little sustenance. There's a sandwich shop across the road. How about we talk about it over a coffee?"

Even with the door open, Alison figured that she would feel a whole lot more at ease with lots of people around, even if it was just to witness her tragic demise at the hands of a deranged killer.

It was warm in the sunshine and the bank manager's easy smile made Alison feel more relaxed. _At least mum was right about one thing_ , _he is good looking_. _Maybe she was right about us reading too much into too little, as well_.

The coffee, as it turned out, was a slight improvement on Rufus' effort the previous day, although Alison still had to resist the urge to go behind the counter and give the so-called-barista a free lesson: _Step 1. If it's lousy, tip it out and start again!_

"Yes, it's fine, thank you," she nodded when the waiter asked if it was to her liking. Then Alison looked at Dep Chandra.

"First of all," she started sheepishly, "you're bank isn't going to be robbed, at least as far as I know." She felt her face tingle again as she began to recall their coincidental encounters during the trip to Clowder Bay. As she spoke, he listened with a bemused smile but without interrupting.

"So," he said finally, "your mother owns that Chevy Nomad! What a car! I couldn't help staring at it. I'm sorry about scaring you at the service station, but with my tinted visor and your tinted windows I didn't even know there were people inside. I love old bikes and cars. They just don't make them like they used to."

Suddenly Alison heard a familiar voice.

"Hello, it seems we're all making friends."

"Hi, Mum. Join us. We were actually just talking about you. Or your car, at least."

Dep quickly carried a chair from another table and placed it for Tess.

"Thank you." Tess looked at Dep carefully, "Have we met before?"

"Hello. I'm Deepak Chandra. Please call me Dep. I'm the manager of the bank over there."

Tess looked across at the building. "It's had a name change, I see."

"Yes, but the same good, old fashioned service," Dep smiled.

"Mum, you might remember Dep as the man who was admiring your car at Banksville the other night."

"Oh, yes." A flash of recognition crossed Tess's face. "The axe-murderer, of course. My daughter and granddaughter are big fans. Lovely to finally meet you," she said, giving Alison a very unsubtle I-told-you-so look.

"Yes, I was just telling Alison how much I admire your Nomad, beautiful. Left hand drive. Mid fifties?"

"1956. Bought it from a farmer in Tasmania who imported it from the US. And your bike, I was admiring that."

"I'd be happy to take you for a ride."

"Oh, no thank you, but I'm sure Alison would love to, wouldn't you, Ali?"

"What? Me on a motorbike? I don't think so."

"Oh, I also have a nice little car," Dep added. "1970 Triumph TRS."

Tess was impressed. "Convertible?"

"Of course. Perfect for days like this."

It was then that Alison realised where Tess was steering the conversation. With a deliberate movement she raised her left hand to her cheek.

"I really don't think that would be good idea."

"Oh, I'm sorry..." said Dep, noticing that Alison was deliberately displaying her engagement ring. "I hope you don't think ..."

"It's perfectly alright. You've been very kind and understanding. You would have been entitled to have had me dragged out of your bank in a straitjacket."

Dep stood. "I'd better get back to work. I've been all over the countryside the past few days visiting clients. I'm sure there's a mountain of papers waiting for me. Alison, if ever you and your fiancé would like to open an account, or take out a loan, please let me know. I'll handle it personally."

"Oh, he's in Afghanistan," Tess informed him quickly. "We're not expecting him back for some time." She winced as though she could feel the eye-daggers that she knew Alison was now throwing at her.

"Well, anyway," Dep smiled awkwardly, "here's my card. If there's anything you need, please..."

"You take it, Mum. I already have one," Alison was clearly upset as Dep turned and left.

"How dare you," Alison sobbed. "How dare you say that."

Tess waved the waiter over and ordered a cup of ginger and lime infusion.

"Ali, it's two years...."

"Two years on Friday!" Alison interjected.

"Well maybe it is time to start planning for the rest of your life. You're still young and..."

"Stop right there, Mum. Who are you to be telling me to move on? You've been idling in neutral for forty years. Holding on to that key, to that promise. Forty damn years!"

"You know perfectly well it's different. I haven't been waiting for him to come home. I've been wondering what happened to him, what happened to _us_ , that's all."

"That's all?" Alison suddenly realised that her voice had started to attract the attention of others in the café. "That's all?" she repeated quietly. "You've never married. Never even looked at another man as far as I know. You became a teacher and have taught at the same school all your life. It's as if you've been afraid to do anything, to go anywhere in case you would suddenly wake up from the dream of the life you wanted but never had. You won't even eat Vietnamese food, for goodness sake!"

"Afraid to do anything? I raised you for one thing. And don't think for a minute that was easy to do by myself. And look at you. You're, you're..." Tess started crying.

Alison suddenly softened and reached for her mother's hand. "I know, selfish and totally ungrateful."

"I was going to say beautiful. You're strong and resilient. And you're a far better mother to Mia than I ever was to you."

"Did I hear my name," Mia beamed as she sat down in the chair vacated by the bank manager. Then, noticing the red eyes, "I feel I should be upset about something, too."

Alison took a deep breath and smiled. "Oh, it's, you know... why can't anybody around here make a decent cup of coffee!"

CHAPTER 13

_Wednesday July 3_ rd _1230 hours - Charikar, Afghanistan_

The marketplace nominated by Katz' captors was busy and hot. Thirty minutes had elapsed since the agreed time. Major Cheryl Ferguson was fidgety. Behind her, in the Thales Hawkei, Major Rob Harris sat with Ahmed Khan whose wrists were bound together with plastic cable ties.

Khan put a hand to the thick white bandage that was wrapped around his head. "I'm still bleeding. Your doctors are useless."

"You're lucky we had doctors look after you." said Ferguson. "I had a rusty needle all ready to go."

"Yeah, stop your whinging." Harris joined in. "We even fixed your glasses so you can see your next target. And look, there she is!" Harris pointed to small child walking through the markets with her father. "When we're done here why don't you and your boys go over and shoot her. She's unarmed so it should be easy. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"No one is above the law of Allah. The girls that were killed ... their deaths are on the heads of their parents who sent them to school."

Ferguson looked at Khan's face trying to see even a small sign that he might not be totally convinced that he was right. But all she saw was twisted conviction born of a fear of independent thought. Then Harris made an admission that she was not expecting.

"I'm a Muslim, too, Ahmed," Harris glowered. "I know the book as well as you do and there is nothing in it that says it's okay to kill innocents. You're a murderer. It's as plain and simple as that."

Khan huffed his contempt. Ferguson looked outside and anxiously drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

"Be patient, Major" Khan teased. "Look around. You are amongst friends here."

Ferguson did look around. Hundreds of people milled about the square, haggled at stalls and drank coffee... they might all be friends, but they might not.

"There they are!" she said suddenly.

The green, dark-glassed, armour plated Land Rover looked as out of place in the market as the Australians' Hawkei. It slowed to a stop thirty metres in front of them. Many in the marketplace sensed the danger and hurried indoors or hid behind the thin shelter of the canvas stalls. Some, mostly old men who had seen so much violence that they no longer ran from it, remained on their stools and continued smoking and sipping their thick, black brew.

"Okay, let's do this." Harris climbed out hauling Khan along with him. Ferguson stayed in the vehicle, weapons systems at the ready. Khan and Katz emerged from their respective vehicles at the same time. Harris held his machine gun across his chest trying to look non-threatening. _Stay cool_ , Elliott had told them about a dozen times. _Stay cool_.

Two men stood at the other vehicle, also armed and ready should the Australians try to cross them.

"They're not mucking around," Ferguson observed. "Check out their hardware."

One of the Taliban fighters held a standard Kalashnikov, an AK-47. Harris could easily match that. The Soviet RPG-7, on the other hand, was a serious weapon and if the man holding it decided to use it, it could do a fair amount of damage to the Hawkei which, although highly mobile, was relatively lightly protected.

"They must have been expecting a tank," replied Harris wryly. "Let's try not to give them a reason to press the trigger."

Katz wrists were bound behind his back. Harris gave Khan a not-so-friendly shove in the direction of his friends and as the captives walked slowly towards each other Katz's pronounced limp was immediately noticeable. The two men stopped when they met in the middle.

"I must confess, Captain, I will not miss you. You have not been very pleasant company at all."

Katz blinked and shook his heads as though he were trying to focus on the person speaking to him.

"And if I had a gun, Ahmed," Katz spoke slowly and without emotion, "I wouldn't miss you either. And I want my key."

"Ah, your precious little trinket. I am sorry, but your people took it from me. For some reason they did not believe that I had a girlfriend named Alison. Who knows where it is now?"

Khan again touched the blood spot on his bandage. "It is strange, don't you think, that your people are exchanging a so-called violent terrorist like me for a broken soldier like you. What do you think they are up to?"

"Oh I don't know, Khan. Maybe I've got something you don't ... like a heart, for example."

"Well, Captain, you can tell your commander that I know what he is up to and as soon as I am safe I will be getting, shall we say, a second opinion on my injury." Khan shook his head and laughed mockingly. "You Australians should stick to cricket, yes?"

Katz coughed. "If you're going to use the same quacks who tried to fix my leg," he rasped, "then I wouldn't bother if I were you."

Suddenly a loud crack saw both men half crouch. Khan covered his head with his arms. He then pushed Katz to the ground and ran towards his waiting vehicle. Katz, with his hands bound behind his back was unable to protect himself and his head hit a concrete stump with a thud. Inside the Hawkei, Ferguson's index finger tensed ready to launch weapons. Outside Harris lifted his gun to his shoulder. Katz' two armed escorts did the same, ready to exchange fire.

From the far end of the market, oblivious to the havoc he had almost wreaked, a young man dismounted his back-firing motor scooter, cursed and kicked his machine before reaching for his tool box.

Khan reached the safety of his vehicle while Katz lay still on the ground.

_That's the last thing he needed,_ Harris thought. _They've already smashed his head at least once._

Harris lay his weapon down, raised his arms and moved towards Katz. Khan's men watched him closely and with distrust.

Harris didn't know if Katz was dead or alive but this was not the time to check his vital signs. "Let's get you home, Captain!" Harris started to drag the limp body back towards their vehicle. Once on board, Ferguson reversed a hundred metres until their enemy was out of sight, spun the vehicle around and pushed the accelerator hard to the floor.

"Search him!" Ferguson called urgently over her shoulder.

"I'm on it." Harris searched Katz for explosives that Khan's men might be able to detonate remotely. "He's clean," he said finally, "but he's not looking good. Hurry!"

CHAPTER 14

Friday July 5th

It was another beautiful day. The morning sun lit and warmed their beach front apartment. Mia was busy buttering more toast while her grandmother sat on the balcony soaking in the morning's gift. Alison sat beside her looking forlorn and distant.

"I'm meeting Bertie Birman for lunch today," announced Tess casually as she took another bite of her vegemite on toast.

Mia looked at the line of pills that her grandmother had set out in front of her. "Really, Nan. Well just make sure you're home at a decent hour," joked Mia.

"What do you have planned, Ali?"

"I'm not well, actually. Kim, from the restaurant, has invited me to drop in this morning for a chat but I really don't feel like it now. I thought I'd just stay around here."

"It's two years today, isn't, Mum?" Mia kissed her mother on the cheek as she placed two slices of toast on the small table.

"What was that for?"

"Every meal comes with a kiss at my café," replied Mia. A continuous beeping sound came from the kitchen. "Oh, I've left the fridge door open again. Why do I always do that?" She went back inside to close it.

"I think you should still go." Tess advised Alison. "It would be good for you to get out. Sunshine, sea air and friendship have a way of making things better." Tess took a sip of tea. "I can go with you, if you like."

"Are you sure? Would you really?"

"Of course, I'd love to," Tess lied.

"I'm going to the movies with Jimmy," Mia announced as she sat down beside her mother, "... if that's okay."

"Of course it is," replied Alison.

"Just make sure you're home at a decent hour," said Tess trying not to smile.

"Good, we can all walk together," said Mia cheerily. "They just live above the shop."

Kim Trang looked a little surprised when she opened her door to find Tess standing there with Alison. "Oh, hello," she smiled. "Hello, Mia. Jimmy is just brushing his teeth. He'll be out in a ... Oh, here he is."

"Hi, Mia. Hi, Ms Newell. Hi, Mrs Turner. See ya, Ms Newell, See ya, Mrs Turner. I'll try to be back by lunchtime to give you a hand downstairs, Mum."

Mia kissed Alison and Tess and left with Jimmy.

"I wasn't expecting both of you, but I'm very pleased."

Kim stood to the side and beckoned them into the living room. Tess looked over to a small table where Kim had placed what looked to be a delicious assortment of small cakes.

"Oh, you've gone to a lot of trouble."

"Actually, Kevin is the clever one. He doesn't just do Asian food."

While Alison sat down Tess looked around the beautifully presented room. A tasteful and thoughtful blend of oriental and western influences made the space feel familiar and strange at the same time. On a small table in the corner an old framed photograph of a straight-faced young couple sat surrounded by flowers and red candles. A small, white statue of Buddha also had a place on the table beside a trickling fountain. The room had the slight fragrance of recently burned incense.

Although initially reluctant to visit, Tess now felt strangely peaceful. She soon found herself admiring some photos on the wall, some similar to those that adorned the restaurant downstairs. In the restaurant, however, she saw them as an unwelcome, cold and confronting reminder of a place that swallowed up the only man she ever loved. But in the warmth of this home Tess felt drawn to them. She began to want to know more. _After all, isn't that why I've come home to Clowder Bay?_

"Are they your parents?" asked Tess pointing to a photograph on the table.

"Yes, at their wedding. I'm sure they were happier than they look."

"Yes," agreed Tess. "It was the same with my parents. Clearly it hasn't always been the fashion to smile in photographs." Tess looked at Alison who sat quietly, still with a faraway look in her eyes. Tess resigned herself to having to take the lead.

"We would love to hear about them, wouldn't we Ali?"

Alison smiled politely, suddenly realising that her aloofness might be causing offence, but unable to feign too much enthusiasm. "Of course, that's why we're here."

Tess had settled into a comfortable chair beside Alison and Kim began.

"Like so many men at the time my father believed it was his duty to join the fight against the Viet Cong coming from the north. We had a good life and he wanted to do his part to protect it. And with the Americans on our side it never occurred to him, or to any of us, that we would eventually lose. He was killed in 1969. I was only two years old so I have hardly any memory of him, except of his beautiful singing voice. Before he joined the army he would sing to me every night. When he died, so did the singing.

"It was very difficult for my mother, working and trying to provide a good life for me and my cousin, Van, whose parents had both been killed. Fortunately my mother was a very intelligent woman. She spoke excellent French and English and secured a job at the Australian embassy in Saigon. That's where she met Cam. I don't remember much about that time or about him but my cousin was older and he told me many stories. One thing I do remember is how tall and handsome Cam was. And it was clear that my mother thought so too. On Sundays he would take the three of us to the Ben Thanh Market. Cam would buy us whatever we wanted. He was so generous and would tell us stories of life in his country.

"I often think how different my young life would have been if he had married my mother. How different would be the dreams that sometimes still wake me at night. Families of Australians and Americans were evacuated before the communist finally took over Saigon. The army evacuated Australian staff and promised that they would return for embassy workers like my mother. We all knew that the communists would not treat us well and that they would be particularly cruel to any who were found to have worked for their enemy. As a worker at the embassy, my mother came into that category."

Over the course of the next hour Kim carried Tess and Alison away to another time and another place. The story she began to tell them was a story about war but it was also a story about love.

_April 25_ th _1975 - Saigon, Vietnam_

The Australian Embassy was situated on the upper floor of the ten-story Caravelle Hotel. It was the final evacuation day for embassy staff and although many spouses and secretaries had already fled the country those that remained rose early and gathered in the forecourt for the small ANZAC service.

Eight year-old Kim Trang sat on a cold concrete step, yawning and rubbing her eyes as her mother, Linh, and her cousin, Van, watched the proceeding with great interest. Cam and some other staff had collaborated in writing a poem for occasion of the 60th anniversary of the Gallipoli landing and the birth of the ANZAC legend. Those gathered listened solemnly as Ambassador Price reached the final verse:

Now it falls to us to tell this tale of victorious defeat,

To say the names and sing the praise of men we'll never meet,

To paint the scenes of mud and guns and heat and blood and cold;

For as long as we remember them, they shall not grow old.

Less than three hours later the scene had changed dramatically. Cam stood facing the increasingly volatile crowd that was gathering outside the hotel. His right hand was at his side holding his pistol. Of course he had no intention of using it against unarmed civilians but it didn't hurt to show that he was serious about ensuring the safe evacuation of embassy and staff and their families. Behind him a Navy Taipan gunship was quickly descending and the noise and turbulence only added to the overall sense of panic and confusion. The other guards were quickly rounding the remaining ex-patriot staff and a few journalists that had yet to be evacuated. The Viet Cong had already entered the outskirts of Saigon and were taking over like a heavy mist on a winter's morning. Within days South Vietnam's capital would be completely engulfed in a fog of communism.

Cam turned and caught a fleeting glimpse of guards hurriedly escorting a handful of staff to the chopper.

"Get on board, Sergeant!" the lieutenant screamed. "That's everyone. We're outta here!"

Cam holstered his weapon and ran towards the helicopter. When he reached it he stopped and looked inside the cab. His expression reflected confusion and then horrified disbelief.

"Sir, what about the others?"

"Local staff will be picked up tomorrow. Get on board, soldier."

"But Linh..." Cam shouted, "...she's still inside."

"Sorry, mate. I have my orders."

Linh and several other Vietnamese employees, some with spouses, most with children, stood on the hotel steps looking hopefully at the aircraft. Cam ran over.

"Tomorrow... tomorrow or the next day... we'll come back, I promise."

Cam took Linh's hand and then held her close. "I promise," he repeated. He smiled at Van and Kim and tenderly touched each of them on the cheek with the back of his hand.

He started towards the waiting helicopter then suddenly stopped and returned to Linh.

He reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. "Take this," he said as he kissed Linh on the cheek. "Keep it til I come back. Use as much of it as you need."

Linh wasn't sure why he did that. Maybe it was her look of desperation, even disbelief that the Australians were leaving without them despite their previous promises that local staff, all one hundred and thirty of them, who worked at the embassy would be evacuated to safety. Was it a payment for her friendship? No, she decided, leaving his wallet was like leaving a piece of himself, a guarantee, an assurance that he was genuine; not a fake like so many servicemen who professed everlasting love, at least until their squad was deployed elsewhere. It was a promise that he would come back.

But now the war was at an end. It had been lost. It would have been easy for Cam to ride that helicopter into history and forget about Linh and her young daughter and nephew. But he couldn't. _Fair dinkum_ , that was the word he liked to use. He wanted Linh to know he was being fair dinkum. He would be back. He had promised.

"Move your ..." The lieutenant's angry words were lost in the roar of the chopper and with a worried look and a final wave the tall Australian boarded. The helicopter rose and disappeared into the grey sky just as a storm cloud burst.

There was a feeling of confusion amongst those who were left behind; confusion and betrayal.

"No," insisted Linh. "They told us they will come back and we must believe them. We should all return here tomorrow... and even the next day if we have to."

With the helicopter gone the once-hopeful crowd soon dispersed. They made their way to their homes or, depending on the extent to which they had been involved in resisting the advancing troops from the north, to somewhere outside the city where they could hide and eventually escape from the country.

Picking up their bags the embassy staff left the perceived safety of the building. As far as possible, Linh and the children wended through the back streets. Marketplaces, shops, roads and alleys that were usually bustling with foreign troops on leave and with local shoppers were deserted. It seemed that the world was about to end. And, for so many, it was.

Throughout the night shooting could be heard as the stubborn remnants of the republican army used up their remaining ammunition and prayed against all reason that things might not be as bad as they seemed. Of course, things were. Some kept their final bullet for themselves.

It was a sleepless night for Linh who knew full well what lay in store for anyone found to have supported the National Army or the foreign forces. Having worked in the Australian embassy for three years, she knew that there was no future for her in Vietnam. And without her, the children would barely survive.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast Linh lifted Kim on to her back. Van picked up their small bag of meagre belongings and followed his aunty closely as they made their way towards the embassy hopeful of an early pickup.

They passed Le Van Duyet Temple and turned into Dinh Tien Hoang just as a convoy of Soviet-supplied T-54 tanks and troop carriers entered the street some distance ahead. Linh's first reaction was to hide, possibly in the grounds of the temple. But she noticed a strange thing happening. There were others in the street as well, shopkeepers, homeless people, people searching for missing loved ones. Kim was surprised to see some of them waving as the convoy passed. Gradually others joined in until everyone stood cheering the army of northern invaders. _Of course,_ Linh realised. _That is the best way to survive. Greet the invaders as though they were liberators._

"Wave, children! Wave at the soldiers," Linh exhorted.

"I will never cheer for the ones who killed my parents," Van replied tersely, "...and your husband," he added as if Linh needed to be reminded of the fact.

"Wave with your arms, child, not with your heart."

It took every ounce of Van's considerable determination to keep his breakfast down as he waved and grinned at the parading enemy.

Others were already at the embassy when they arrived and set down their bag inside the foyer.

"We have someone on the roof keeping a lookout for the helicopter," said one of the women. "All we can do is wait."

And they did. That day, and the next. But while others went home each afternoon and returned each morning, Linh and the children stayed in the embassy. "The helicopter might come at any time," she argued. But the others felt too exposed, too much like targets in this imposing building.

"It is only a matter of time before the soldiers arrive and take us away," said one. "We are safer at home, if we are safe anywhere."

It was on the fourth day that Linh and the children were awoken by a commotion in the courtyard of the Caravelle Hotel. Some citizens were only too eager to ingratiate themselves to the new regime even if it meant betraying their neighbours. And this is exactly what had happened.

A volley of bullets smashed the lock on the front door of the embassy offices. The soldier in charge quickly stated that he had information that Trang Linh had collaborated with the imperialists. She was to be taken to a re-education camp.

"Oh, I'm very sorry," Kim apologised. "I have been talking non-stop. You must be very bored."

Tess was conscious of the tear trickling down her cheek and dug into her handbag for a tissue. "On the contrary," Tess smiled, "Your story is unfinished. I want to hear more of it. Who knows, it might even fill in some of the gaps in my own."

She looked at her watch. She was late for her lunch date with Bertie Birman.

Alison was moved by Kim's story but mainly she was thankful that her mind had been taken off Peter.

CHAPTER 15

Bertie Birman was excited when he moved some cartons and found the old green shoe box beneath what used to be the mail sorting counter.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed as he lifted the box out from the place where it had lain undiscovered, or ignored, for forty years. However, as careful as he was in carrying it to the table for better light, the brittle cardboard, shocked at being disturbed after so long, gave way at just about every fold spilling its contents over the floor. Letters, probably about thirty, Bertie estimated, scattered at his feet. As he gathered them up he noticed all but one were addressed, in the same handwriting, to _Miss Theresa Newell_. The odd-one-out was addressed, in a different script, to _The New Postmaster._

"Brilliant!" he said again out loud, as he looked around for a bag to stow his find.

Tess sat outside the café in the sunshine sipping water and watching a very excited Bertie Birman hurrying towards her.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Tess," Bertie apologised, mopping his face with his handkerchief.

"Don't worry, I was a little late myself." Bertie thirstily downed the glass of water offered by Tess.

"I found it!" he exclaimed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"Found what?"

"The mystery box I told you about." Bertie placed the plastic shopping bag on the table.

"Hardly a box, Bertie."

"Well it was before it disintegrated in my hands. Letters, Tess. Letters for you!"

Tess reached for the bag and took out a letter. Although quite old, the envelope was still white from having been kept in the dark for so long. As she read her own name and address in the familiar handwriting she felt her heart begin to race and her head begin to spin.

"Some water – here have some water." Bertie held a glass up to Tess who took a few sips.

She reached again into the bag and took out a handful of letters. All addressed to her, all in Fudge's handwriting. Tess picked up the bag.

"I'm sorry, Bertie. I hope you don't mind if we postpone our lunch."

"Of course not, Tess." Bertie stood. "I'll order you a tea and leave you to it, shall I?"

Tess stared at the letters and didn't respond.

"Brilliant," said Bertie.

The first letter that Tess read that afternoon had her questioning every kind memory she had of her father. He had listened silently, sometimes placing a consoling hand on her shoulder, as she cried about not having heard from Fudge. _I'm here_ , he would assure her. _You don't really need him anyway_ , he would say. _He's probably found someone else by now. Some fathers would disown a daughter who had a child out of wedlock but I'll look after you and little Ali. He's only a mechanic, Theresa. You know you can do so much better than that._ The trite and emotionless expressions he would use to excuse what Tess could now see as her father's own unforgiveable actions were endless.

_May 15_ th _, 1970_

Dear Mr Pettigrew,

Congratulations on your appointment as the new Postmaster of Clowder Bay. I trust you will find everything in order and that you, your good wife and family enjoy your time here as much as my daughter and I have. In a separate letter I have left detailed instructions that should assist in facilitating a smooth and trouble-free transition.

On an unrelated matter, and in this I earnestly seek your discretion and understanding as a parent yourself, you will find beneath the sorting counter a cardboard box containing a few letters addressed to my daughter, Theresa. They are from a Mr Charles McFudgen, currently serving in the armed forces. These communications are unwelcome and unsolicited, and both Theresa and I would very much appreciate it if you would continue to file any further correspondence from this 'gentleman' in this same way. I shall, in due course, send an instruction regarding the disposal of these most offensive items.

Please be assured that in my new position I will take every opportunity to speak favourably of you to others in authority.

Yours faithfully,

Albert J Newell

Tess's hand was shaking. She wanted to reach up into heaven, no, down into hell, grab her father by the throat and make him justify the overwhelming feeling of rejection that she had lived with for so long.

_February 30_ th _, 1970_

Dear Tess,

Please write. I hope everything is alright with you.

Well, it's happening. The regiment is being deployed to Vietnam. I feel so undertrained. With luck I won't see any action for a while.

_May30_ th _, 1970_

Dear Tess,

I don't think you understand how much it would mean to know that you are still thinking of me. I love you so much. I can't bear to watch the other boys reading their mail. I have to go for a walk. But then I see your face in everything, the trees, the clouds, even the afternoon storms.

Please write.

December 18th, 1970

Dear Tess,

I hope this reaches you in time for Christmas. The chaplain has set up a nativity scene in the chapel. I see the baby and think how someday we might have a little one of our own. I hope you still feel that way too.

I don't know what you're feeling. Please, please write to me.

_January 22_ rd _, 1972_

Darling Tess,

You can't possibly imagine how heartbroken I was to receive the letter from your father telling me that you no longer want to be 'harassed' by my letters. In a way it brought me some relief. At least I know that you are alive and well.

I don't know what to think. I can't accept that things could change so much between us. Anyway whether it's your wish or your father's it seems the best thing for me to do is to try and forget you, knowing how impossible that will be.

We're all being pulled out of Vietnam so I'll be returning to Australia in a month. Please write to let me know once and for all if you will be there to meet me. I wish with all my heart that you will be.

Love ALWAYS

Fudge

All that afternoon Tess wandered Clowder Bay reading the letters from Fudge. She knew now why she never received them. And every letter she wrote she had given to her father to post. He did, after all, work at the head office of the national postal organisation. Did he read them before he callously threw them away with the other rubbish? He couldn't have or else he would know the pain that not hearing from Fudge was causing her. No father would be a party to that.

Sunset found her walking on the sand, her stomach a tight, nauseous knot and her head a vortex of confused and conflicting emotions colliding randomly until she collapsed, emotionally and physically exhausted.

Unbeknown to Tess, Bertie's concern had him following her at an unobtrusive distance throughout the afternoon. Within a minute he was crouching beside her, calling for an ambulance.

CHAPTER 16

But for the rhythmic beeping of medical machinery and the hushed voices of the nursing staff, the small hospital in Clowder Bay was quiet.

Suddenly Alison and Mia burst through the curtain that was drawn around Tess's bed.

"Nan, are you okay?"

"Oh dear, you almost gave me a heart attack," Tess smiled.  
"Oh, Mum, don't joke. Are you alright?" Alison leaned over and clumsily kissed her mother on the cheek dislodging the oxygen tube.

"Now you're trying to kill me. You know I have nothing to leave you, don't you?"

"Mum," Alison asked again, putting the plastic tube back into place, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, dear, or at least I will be after a cup of tea and good night's rest."

"What happened?" Alison sat on the bed and took Tess's hand.

Tess, suddenly serious again, looked over to the side table and pointed to the bulging plastic bag. "That happened," she said.

Tess told them of the letters. "All these years, all these years I wondered, doubting myself, doubting him ... and having blind and unquestioning faith in my father... all these years..." Tess's voice trailed off.

"It's alright, Mum." Tess stroked her mother's hand. "Are you cold? Do you need another blanket?"

Tess didn't respond.

"Mum?" Tears brimmed in Mia's eyes.

"She's just resting. You stay with her and I'll have a chat to the nurses. They will need to know her history."

"I've hardly seen you today, Mum," Mia said as they walked back to the Seaview Apartments. "Have you been okay?"

"Yes, sweetie, I've been fine. Your nan is the worry now."

"What's going to happen? How sick is she?"

Alison looked at Mia as if she was just noticing for the first time that her daughter was quickly catching up to her in height. "You're growing up too quickly. I should have asked the doctor for something to keep you small."

"Don't change the subject, Mum. Don't keep secrets from me. I don't keep any from you!"

"And neither should you. I'm your mother."

"And neither should you. I'm your daughter!"

"Are you saying that you tell me everything, Mia? I doubt that very much."

"Well, no, not everything, but it's not necessarily secrets. It's just stuff that you don't need to know, that's all."

"Oh, like the kiss Joey whatshisname gave you at the disco last term?"

"Joey Adams... kiss! Oh my god! How did you know about that?"

"It doesn't matter. But was that a secret or was it just something I didn't need to know?"

"I guess it was ... Oh, I don't know. He's a creep anyway. Turns out he kissed about a thousand girls that night. And you've changed the subject again. This is about Nan."

Alison remembered she had turned her phone off when she went into the hospital. She took it from her bag and switched it back on.

"It's just her heart. Her medication controls it but if she's under a lot of stress it can creep up on her and ... you can see what happens. That's why she had to stop working. I was glad when she suggesting coming here, but I was worried also. I'm not sure what it all means to her."

"Is she going to die?"

Alison's phone beeped. She read the message on the screen: _Missed call from Geoff Bowden who did not leave a message_.

"Just Canberra," she sighed. "I suppose they think they need to remind me it's been two years today. I don't know about Nan. Neither do the doctors. Maybe a lifestyle change will help. This sea air might be just the thing. And I've been so selfish. She told me that it might be time to move on. I think she's right. How can I support her if all I do is mope around feeling sorry for myself? I can almost feel the negative vibes flowing out from every pore of my skin. That's the last thing mum needs."

Just then Alison's phone rang. Alison had already decided to ignore it if it was from the army, but it was an unknown number.

"Alison speaking."

"Alison, it's Bertie Birman here, from the bookshop. I hope you don't mind but I got your number from Tess."

"Oh, Bertie. Thank you so much for being there for mum this afternoon."

"That was no problem at all. I could see she was upset and I just thought she needed watching, that's all. But actually I was ringing to say that I've found another letter. I must have missed it when I dropped them all on the floor today. The thing is I'm not sure if it's a good idea to pass it on to Tess. What do you think?"

"I'm not sure either. They certainly upset her. But on the other hand, the things she read...she's been waiting nearly all her life to know them."

"Well, I'm driving to Brisbane tomorrow to check that my new store is ready to move into and will be back later in the week. Maybe by then she'll be well enough and can decide for herself whether or not to read it."

"Good idea, Bertie. Drive safely."

Alison and Mia were in bed when the phone rang again. Alison looked at the screen and let out a long, frustrated breath.

"You should answer it, Mum. He'll just keep trying. I'm sure he means well."

Alison held the phone with her thumb hovering between _Answer_ and _Ignore_. Finally she hit _Answer_.

"Hello, Rob,"

Two years ago Mia had watched her mother's face die with the pain of unbelievable grief. Now she didn't know what she was seeing. Alison sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her face at first reflected nothing and then a look of disbelief until finally a flood of tears flowed as though it had been building up for a century.

By the time Alison had hung up Mia was sitting beside her with her head on her mother's shoulder and her arms wrapped around her.

"They've found him haven't they?" Mia cried. "They've found his body."

Apart from greeting the caller and saying _thank you_ at the end Alison hadn't uttered a word. Her lips trembled and she shivered uncontrollably. When she finally spoke the words came out in little pieces, each syllable taking its turn to escape its two-year's of captivity.

When Mia put the disjointed sounds together she also dissolved into a million tears.

"Yes, they've found Pete.... He's alive."

It was a sleepless night for Alison who lay awake trying to recall every detail of the phone call. _What did Geoff Bowden say about Peter's health? Where did he say Peter was now? When will I be able to speak with him?_

Mia was so happy for her mother that she too lay awake and only fell asleep after several hours of non-stop grinning in the dark. She also thought of her grandmother. _Maybe this will give her the boost she needs. Put the fight back into her._ She couldn't wait to see her Nan's face in the morning when they told her the news.

_Saturday July 6_ th

As Alison and Mia walked past the nurses' station they heard an alarm sounding and Tess's name mentioned. They looked down the corridor to see a nurse abandon a young man in a wheelchair to hurry into Tess's room.

"It's Nan. Something's wrong," exclaimed Mia.

They hurried towards the room to find Tess sitting upright in bed, all tubes disconnected, but looking very concerned.

"This tea is rather cold," she informed the nurse. "Is there any chance that you could fetch a little jug of hot water from the kitchen?"

It had been a long time since Mia had seen her grandmother's face light up as it did that morning as Alison told her the news about Peter. They spoke of the future that they thought they had been denied. Tess started talking about a wedding. Mia talked about a little brother or sister, preferably a sister. They ignored Alison when she tried to assure them that there would be no sibling for Mia and no more grandchildren for Tess unless Mother Nature reviewed her own rules.

"Well, one thing's for sure, Mum," Mia grinned, "I'm not changing my name. You might be happy as Ali Katz but there's no way I'm going to be Mia Katz. They're such odd little creatures."

"Really, I think they're cute and cuddly," said Alison giving Mia a hug.

"Goodness," Tess yawned, "you've both made me so tired."

"Sorry, Mum." Alison gave Tess a kiss on the forehead. "We'll let you rest and come back later."

"Ali," Tess called as Alison and Mia walked towards the door." Alison turned. "I'm so happy for you."

Alone again, Tess looked out through the window. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. A family was picnicking in the park across the road, having spread their blanket beneath the large jacaranda tree. A gentle breeze danced with the fronds of tiny green leaves just as it had on that day she received the news of Fudge's death.

CHAPTER 17

Sydney April 29th 1975

The old tree's gnarly branch creaked as the rubber-tyre swang back and forth on the long rope.

"Higher, Mummy!" laughed Alison.

"Oh, you're tiring me out, Ali," said Tess Newell. "I don't know what your grandpa was thinking when he put this swing up for you. He certainly wasn't thinking of me!"

A black car pulled up outside.

"Maybe grandpa can push you when he gets home." A sombre young man in a military uniform looked at the number on the letterbox. "It'll still be light then, sweetie."

Having confirmed that he was at the correct address, the uniformed man looked down the side of the house towards Tess.

"Miss Theresa Newell?" he called.

"Yes."

"May I come in?"

The uniformed-man marched down the driveway carrying a brown envelope. The news of Charlie McFudgen's death in Vietnam shocked Tess. It shocked her because, although she had not heard from him for over five years, her feelings for Fudge had never waned, not one little bit. And Ali was a constant reminder. She didn't know what had happened to make him stop writing but in her heart, in her mind and in her spirit they had still been together. In fact, for an instant when Tess had seen the uniformed soldier hop out of the car she thought it might have been Fudge.

"When did it happen?"

"Only four days ago, Miss."

"How?"

"I don't have all the details. It's war, Miss, men die in all sorts of ways."

"How?" Tess demanded. "Don't dare come here telling me he's dead and not be prepared to tell me how...." Tess cried. "I need to know."

"Miss," the soldier hesitated and moved his feet awkwardly. "There was an explosion."

Tess held young Ali in her arms as the soldier explained that Saigon had fallen to the Viet Cong and the last Australian personnel in the city had gathered at Tan Son Nhut Airfield for evacuation. As they were boarding their Hercules for some unknown reason Charlie McFudgen had assaulted a superior officer and stolen an army jeep. A guard was ordered to stop him by shooting out one of the rear tyres as the vehicle sped from the airfield. Unfortunately Charlie lost control of the jeep and it slammed into some barrels of aviation fuel.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but the explosion was pretty big. I'm not even sure if they were able to find any ... any remains, Miss. Sometimes they just flip, Miss. The war gets too much for them."

As Ali wiped curiously at the tears on her mother's cheeks, Tess thought about what the solider had said. She composed herself sufficiently to press him further. "But the war was over for Australia. Why would he do that when it was all finished? It doesn't make sense. When he was finally able to come home, why would he turn back and head directly into danger?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Newell. I can't answer that. I've told you all I know and more than I was authorized to disclose. Please accept the army's condolences and deepest sympathy. Oh, one more thing..." The soldier held out the envelope. "When Charlie joined up he handed this in for safe keeping. He listed you as _next of kin_ so, whatever it is, now it's yours. Once again, Miss, on behalf of the army I'm very sorry for your loss."

And he was gone.

Tess tore open the envelope and found a key engraved _T &CM 72._ She remembered the promise Fudge had made.

Tess turned away from the window as a booming voice brought her back to the present. "Tess Newell, I can't believe it's you?" The tall man's frame almost filled the doorway.

Tess's eyes lit up with instant recognition.

"Shorty, Shorty Reynolds! Where did you come from?"

"Where did I come from? Tess, I've never moved. Where did you come from?"

The old friends embraced affectionately and exchanged news from the past forty years. Shorty was able to fill Tess in on the fates and fortunes of many of the crowd they used to hang around with. Soon after Fudge had left for Vietnam, Shorty himself had taken a job at the new Amoco service station and before long was running the shop. Eventually he brought the franchise and had done very well for himself. He now owned three independent stations – one in Clowder Bay and two in nearby towns.

"Well," he looked around the room, "as peaceful as it is in here, this is no place to spend a holiday. What have you done to yourself?"

"Oh, just a little dizzy spell, that's all," Tess lied. "I'll be out of here soon enough. What about you? What brings you to a hospital on a beautiful day like this?"

"My grandson. His parents had to go to Perth and I'm looking after him for a while – but not very well as it turns out. I'll be in strife when his mum and dad get home. He hurt his foot a few days ago. I thought it was unusual that he was just lying on the couch all day. He didn't say a word, though, not til I noticed the swelling this morning. X-rays show two broken toes. Hang on! I've left him in the corridor." Shorty hurried out and soon returned pushing a reluctant-looking teenage passenger in a wheelchair.

"Tess, this is Mitchell, my grandson."

"Hello, Mitchell. What have you done to your foot?"

"Just mucking around on the beach and didn't see the rock, that's all."

"Well, I hope you're back on your soon," Tess said cheerily. "You look like you don't like to be stuck in one place for very long."

"Yep, he likes to be out and about, this one. Don't you, mate?" Shorty ruffled his grandson's hair. "No more beach volleyball for while."

"Volleyball? My granddaughter was playing that just the other day. She met some nice young people on her very first day here."

"What's her name?" Mitchell asked in a tone that suggested he wasn't really interested in the answer.

"Mia. Mia Turner." Tess noticed the boy's eyes widen involuntarily. "Do you know her?"

"Oh, no... I mean not really. She might have been the girl who joined our game on the beach. I don't really know."

"Well, Mitchell, Mia has had a lovely time this past week. If you've had anything to do with it then I am very appreciative. She hasn't had an easy time of it of late and she was really looking forward to coming here to see the place where I grew up. She has mentioned a boy called Jimmy. You probably know him."

"Jimmy? Of course he knows Jimmy. You've been best friends since primary school, haven't you, mate?" A proud grin stretched across Shorty's face and he looked at Tess. "Those two even made the local news a couple of years back. Got lost in the bush overnight. Well, _we_ all thought they were lost. Turns out they knew exactly where they were. Police were even out looking. All of a sudden those two just emerge from nowhere. Mitchell had sprained his ankle and Jimmy didn't want to leave him to get help in case he couldn't find the way back. So Jimmy stayed with him, used his shirt to wrap up his mate's ankle and built a small fire to stay warm. Next day he found a branch that would make a good crutch and the two of them slowly made their way home." Shorty ruffled his grandson's hair again. "Yep, all the money in the world can't buy a good friend, hey, Mitchell."

Mitchell, clearly growing agitated, smoothed his hair with his hand. "Yeah, Jimmy's a good mate."

"Well, that's wonderful," smiles Tess. "I believe his family is experiencing some challenges at the moment, though. That's when it's good to have friends, don't you think? Not just for the good times but to help each other through the difficult patches as well. There are few things worse than a fair-weather friend."

Mitchell shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "You sound like a teacher."

"Goodness me, is it that obvious? I'm sorry. And we're both on holidays, aren't we?"

"Can we go, Pop? I need to lie down."

"Sure, mate. Well, Tess it's been great to see you. How about lunch sometime?"

_Oh, another date_ , Tess thought. _Bertie and Shorty facing off in the middle of Beach Road. Books and spanners at ten paces ... I'd like to see that!_

CHAPTER 18

Alison and Mia sat in the café across the road from the bank and ordered a light lunch.

"When is he going to call?" asked Mia.

"Oh, I don't know. I wish I could remember everything Geoff Bowden said. I think sometime today. I'm so nervous. What will I say? What if I can't say anything? After two years, what if he doesn't even want to see me ..."

"Settle down, Mum. You'll talk yourself into being a mute!"

"I know. I should visit your Nan to get my mind off it. But I want to stay in the hotel room in case he rings."

Mia shook her head. "Um, you may not have noticed, but your phone is a mobile."

"Yes, but I don't want our first conversation to be held in public. If I can manage to get any words out, there are things I want to say."

"Okay, okay, spare me the details. I'll still visit Nan anyway. Should I take her something?"

"She asked about a book that she bought from Bertie Birman a few days ago. Maybe you can take that to her."

When the phone finally rang an hour later Alison was back in the hotel room. She took a depth breath.

"Hello."

"Ali, it's me. Has it been six months yet?"

Peter's voice was strained and he was clearly heavily medicated, but Alison took in every detail and when the all-too-brief call was finished she sat on the balcony overlooking the beach and replayed his voice over and over in her mind:

Will you still have me?

I love you so much.

Thinking of you kept me alive.

If it weren't for the key with your name on it...

I can't wait to hold you – but not too tight, I have a few bones that still need mending.

Without realising that she had moved inside, Alison found herself in the bathroom opening a small bottle of prescription pills. She tipped them out and watched as they dissolved under a stream of water and drained away with the pain.

As the sensational news of the rescue of an Australian soldier missing in action for two years was broadcast around the world Alison lay across the bed and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

CHAPTER 19

Landstuhl Regional Medical Centre - Germany

Major Rob Harris knocked on the door then entered without waiting for an answer. Katz lay there with his eyes closed. Before surgery the left side of Peter Katz face was sunken and loose-skinned. Now it was swollen and tight. Harris wasn't sure which looked better. He counted ten stiches in Katz' cheekbone but could only guess how many were in his heavily bandaged leg.

"I am not an animal. I am a human being!" Katz moaned slowly still with his eyes closed.

Harris laughed. " _The Elephant Man_. Loved that movie."

Katz opened his eyes and looked painfully at his visitor.

Harris extended his hand and introduced himself. Katz smiled as well as he could manage and motioned to Harris to pull up a chair.

"Thanks for the lift."

"It was no trouble. Cheryl Ferguson felt like a little ride in the desert and I just thought I'd tag along. I'm on leave and heading home for a break. The boss asked me to drop in on the way. He thought you might have a few questions."

Katz reached for the bed control panel and raised himself to a half sitting position.

"Damned right I have a few questions. For one, what the hell did he think he was doing releasing a terrorist who had just blown up a school and killed a dozen kids? I didn't want to be where I was, but I sure as hell don't want people like Khan running free either."

Harris could see that Katz was genuinely agitated. _If it was me_ , he thought, _I'd just be glad to be back. No questions asked._ Harris poured himself a glass of water and one for Katz and began to explain the events of the past week starting with the capture of Khan and finishing with an explanation of how they implemented Lieutenant Colonel Frank Elliott's plan.

"When the CO took one of those GPS microchips out of the plastic bag we could hardly see it, it was so small. None of us was all that convinced his plan would work but we all, well nearly all, agreed it was worth a try. Besides, the Americans were keen to see their new technology applied to a real-life situation. And you were it.

We all just hoped it would play out after the exchange as Elliott planned.

Wednesday July 3rd – Helmand Province, Afghanistan

Ahmed Khan stood in the sparsely furnished room and began to undress. He removed his glasses and placed them on a small table. He dropped his clothes on the floor.

"Take them and burn them," he ordered. He wrapped himself in a new robe, hoisted himself onto a smooth timber bench and told the surgeon to start his work.

The surgeon applied some local anaesthetic to Khan's forehead and after a minute started to unpick the stitches placed there by the Australian doctor a day earlier. The sides of the wound had already began to mend together so the surgeon reached for his scalpel.

"This will hurt, Ahmed."

Khan stared at the ceiling and did not reply. Even as the blade cut through his skin and reopened the wound his unblinking eyes remained fixed and emotionless. _I do not deserve the great privilege and honour of undertaking this procedure on such a great and heroic man,_ the surgeon thought.

"You were right," he said suddenly. He swapped his scalpel for a pair of tweezers. A few seconds later he victoriously held up the minute tracking device for all to see.

He carefully re-stitched and bandaged Khan's head wound. Khan climbed off the bench and dressed in his new clothes and sandals.

"Show it to me," he demanded as he reached for his glasses. Khan inspected the tracking device with a disdainful smirk, "Yes, they should stick to cricket."

With that he dropped the microchip on the floor and crushed it beneath his sandal.

Katz shook his head. "Well that doesn't sound like much of a plan to me. What did I miss?"

"The same thing Khan missed – the second microchip. We planted it in the frame of his glasses when we repaired them. We're still getting a signal from it but that'll only last another two days, three at most. As you can imagine, you can't get much of a power source into something that small. At present he hasn't moved from his home village. If he does, we're hoping it will be to his cubbyhouse in the mountains to meet up with his murderous cronies. If that happens in the next day or so, then we'll have him, and the rest. That'd put a nice big hole in the Taliban's holiday plans."

"Risky."

"I agree, but Ferguson reckons you're worth it." Harris stood and shook Katz' hand. "All the best, mate. Australia, here I come." He turned to leave.

"Oh, almost forgot." Harris reached into his pocket and took out a small, silver key. "I believe this is yours."

Katz had lost count of the number of times Khan had dangled that key in front of him demanding information and threatening all sorts of things against whoever this Alison person was. However, with every taunt and torment, Khan unwittingly reminded Katz of the reason he had to survive. The very thing that was meant to weaken him gave him strength.

CHAPTER 20

Kim Trang tentatively entered Tess's hospital room.

"Oh, Kim, thank you for coming."

"Thank you for asking me. I've brought you a few things to enjoy with your tea." Kim placed a small packet on Tess's bedside table.

Tess told Kim how moved she had been by her story. "That feeling of abandonment when the Australians didn't return for you... For so many years I have felt abandoned as well. But I wasn't. Because some things just aren't as they seem."

Tess looked in the small packet that Kim had given her then pressed the bedside buzzer. When the nurse came in Tess asked for tea for two.

"Kim, what happened after they took your mother away?"

April 29th 1975 \- Saigon, Vietnam

There was little sign of civilian life on the streets as the two children tentatively made their way back to their small apartment. Any vehicles were mostly military and what few people were out and about were mostly soldiers. Cafes were open but almost entirely patronised by men in North Vietnamese uniforms.

As they arrived at their apartment building they were greeted by their neighbour, Mr Ngoc.

"Ah, Van, you are safe. Oh, poor little Kim. I heard that your mother has been arrested. Come inside, you can stay with me for a short while."

"Thank you, Mr Ngoc," said Van, "we would prefer to go upstairs to our own place. We will be safe there until aunty comes back."

"But, children, you do not have a place anymore. The army has taken it for their own use. See for yourself if you must ... but be careful," he warned.

At that moment two soldiers entered the building, laughing and smelling of tobacco and too much rice wine. They pushed their way past Kim and Van who watched as they disappeared up the staircase. They listened as the soldiers' footsteps stopped at the first door and entered the apartment. Mr Ngoc was right – they didn't have a home anymore.

For two months the children stayed with Mr Ngoc. Each morning they would go to the prison and ask to see Linh. Each day they were told that she was busy taking re-education classes. One day the guard said that if the children were prepared to pay some money then the commanding officer might be persuaded to let them see Linh. So they would give him a few coins and he would promise to do his best. But always the news he gave was the same.

"The commander says you need to pay more."

They would then go about their daily routine of begging and offering to do small jobs for shopkeepers and neighbours. At night they would return to Mr Ngoc's apartment and offer him a share of what they had earned as thanks for his kindness.

On the night they left Mr Ngoc's never to return they had found him drunk. He had been like a caring grandfather up until that point but he had suddenly changed.

He looked at the paltry amount of money they handed to him and dropped it on the floor with a look of disdain. "You are out from sunrise to sunset and this is all you bring home. Have I not looked after you well enough? Is this how you repay me, with little coins that are barely enough to buy a small fish?"

"We are sorry, Mr Ngoc," explained Van, "but we are saving our money to visit aunty Linh. Maybe we will be able to pay for her release from prison and buy our home back from the army."

"Hah!" Mr Ngoc laughed. "Put those silly ideas out of your head. There is only here and there is only now. You have no home but mine and it will cost you a lot more than what you are giving me at present."

Kim was sobbing to hear the man she saw as their friend and protector speak to them so harshly.

"Please, Mr Ngoc," pleaded Van, "we are already sharing what we have. We work all day to earn these few coins. What more can we give you?"

With that Mr Ngoc broke into a broad smile and like a magician triumphantly pulling a rabbit out of a hat, he reached into the children's bag and pulled out Cam's wallet.

"This," he said taking out a thick wad of cash, "would be a very suitable start."

The children looked wide-eyed at the money he held in his hand.

"That is Aunty Linh's money," insisted Van. "You can't have that!"

"Aunty Linh's money? It does not have Aunty Linh's name on this purse. Unless she changed her name."

"It was a gift. You can't have it!" Van was shouting now, angry that Mr Ngoc would try to steal from them.

Suddenly Mr Ngoc's expression seemed more understanding and for a moment the children though he had changed his mind. "Of course, Van, you are right. I cannot keep this money. What if the soldiers find me with it? They will think I was a traitor ... just like I told them your aunty was!"

The children stared in disbelief. All this time they had been staying under the roof of the man who had betrayed Linh. Had he ever felt pity for them, or had he only ever regarded them as a source of income, trifling as it was?

They would never know the answer to this question because before Kim's thin body could jerk with another sob Van had rushed forward and shoved the old man with all his might into the wall. Mr Ngoc fell to the floor and lay there moaning and bleeding from a small wound to the back of his head.

"Run, Kim!" shouted Van as he picked up the money and the wallet and pushed it all back into the bag. He turned to see the young girl riveted to the spot, eyes fixed on the trickle of blood that was slowly beginning to pool on the tiles. Van threw the bag over his shoulder, swooped his young cousin up in his arms and ran from the building into the darkness.

"Is Mr Ngoc dead?" Kim asked when they finally stopped in an alley some distance from the apartment.

"No, Kim, he is not dead," replied Van, not knowing whether or not his answer was true. "As soon as he is able, he will surely report us to the soldiers. We have to leave Saigon as soon as possible."

"Without my mother? No, we cannot leave her here..." Kim sobbed. "She would never leave us and we can never leave her."

"Kim, when it is safe, we can come back."

"Come back? Just like my father came back? Just like your parents came back? Just like Cam came back?" Kim rolled herself into a small, weeping ball. "There is no coming back to Saigon."

And the cold rain poured down.

During the months that followed the children lived in the backstreets afraid to stay too long in one place lest they be recognised as criminals wanted for an assault on, or maybe even the murder of, an old man. At night they slept in whatever dry place they could find. Sometimes a kind family would offer them shelter but by morning they had gone. Van did not trust anybody for very long. During the day they would beg for money and food. Sometimes they would do some small jobs like cleaning garbage cans and emptying toilets. Often they would be cheated out of their promised earnings if the shopkeeper decided that there work was not worth paying for. Not once did they use any of the money from Cam's wallet.

It was late September, when they made their final visit to the re-education camp, to make another payment for a visit with Linh. As the new guard, one they had never seen before, told them that Linh had died many weeks earlier the children collapsed in silent surrender. Kim cursed herself for being unable to cry for her own mother, but they were both beyond tears. For hours they sat silently and pathetically at the prison gate. A few passers-by dropped coins at their feet but the children no longer had the will to gather them up. Although they had been alone for so long it was the dream of being reunited with Linh that had kept them alive. Now they had no dream left. Not even the guard's threat to shoot them made them move. Only when the guard physically dragged them away from the gate and across the rough road did they stand and wander aimlessly back towards the city. It didn't matter now if they were arrested.

"I am sorry, little Kim. I have let you down. I don't know where to go from here."

"Maybe we should go to the place of Sunshine and Laughter," replied Kim.

"Sunshine and laughter? Is that a place in your dreams?"

Kim stopped and reached into the bag that was slung over Van's shoulder. She took out Cam's wallet and opened a clipped compartment that Van had not previously noticed.

"No, it is a real place," she said holding up a photograph. "I think we will find Cam there."

"It is beautiful," Van agreed. "I will get you there, I promise."

Van had heard some street talk that people were attempting to illegally escape from Vietnam by boat. To speak of escape was dangerous enough, but to make an actual attempt could be suicidal. The alternative, however, was a life of poverty and despair in this depressed and defeated country. The photo showed them a paradise across the ocean. But the ocean was vast and unforgiving. And neither of them had ever been on a boat. Still the decision was an easy one.

The sun was just beginning to rise when, two weeks later the children reached the small fishing village of Cay Lay on the southern coast. There were only a few boats moored as most had already set out for their day's work.

Van found a secluded spot from where they could watch people coming and going. And many people did come. Some left again while others hid, like the children, in the nearby forest. Kim could not stay awake but Van watched carefully trying to make sense of everything he saw. It was mid-afternoon when he finally shook his cousin awake.

"I am going to talk to a fisherman who may be able to help us. You watch our bag. I will be back."

Kim rubbed her eyes and nodded to show she understood. Then she watched as Van walked, warily, at first, but then with increasing confidence towards an old, tanned fisherman who sat on the sand mending his nets. At first Kim saw the old man wave Van away. But her cousin stood his ground. Again the fisherman waved him away. Kim could not hear the exchange but she knew that there was a lot of shouting. Then she saw the man stand and walk over to her cousin. Van reached into his pocket and took out some money. The man made a grab for it but Van was too quick. He put the money back into his pocket and took a few steps backwards. They spoke some more and Van finally turned and made his way back to where Kim was hiding.

"Tonight," explained Van, "a boat will be here to take us to a safe place."

Kim forced a small smile. "I'm hungry."

"So am I. The old man said there are no soldiers around here so it should be safe to go and find some food."

The lady in the small hut not far from the beach was surprised when the two children knocked on her door and asked for some food, and even more surprised when the boy held out some coins to pay for it.

As they ate, the old lady told the children some stories she had heard from people who had unsuccessfully tried to escape. While Kim did not understand much of what she said Van grew more scared and began to doubt his ability to protect his young charge.

"Do you have some scissors?" he suddenly asked the lady.

Although confused, Kim sat still while Van cut her hair short and dressed her in some of his own clothes.

It was dark when a man carrying a lamp made his way onto the deserted beach.

"Van, wake up," whispered Kim.

Van shook the sleepiness from his head. "It is time," he said.

The children abandoned their hiding place and walked towards the light. As they did they noticed others, first a few, then a dozen, then over twenty, also making their way towards the lamp.

It wasn't the fisherman that Van had spoken with earlier in the day, but a younger, fitter looking man who held up his hand to quieten the crowd.

"I am sorry to say that the price Mr Nguyen may have told you is incorrect." The man's eyes watched greedily as the desperate runaways dug even deeper into their purses.

October 1975 - Saigon, Vietnam

On only the first day of their journey on the _Tự Do_ , another boat had drawn up alongside their vessel and the man who had taken so much of their money callously abandoned them. The men shared the job of steering the boat but the fuel soon ran out. With some tattered canvas and their spare clothes they were able to sew together a makeshift sail but mostly they drifted aimlessly through the South China Sea. The first thing Kim had noticed when she boarded the small fishing boat was the stink of rotten fish. Now it stank with the smell of vomit and urine.

On the fifth day they had their first encounter with Thai pirates. Upon seeing the strange boat approaching, those escapees that still had the strength waved hopefully. It was only when the pirates drew up alongside and tied the boats together that fear hit them.

The pirates forced the women and girls on to their own vessel and pushed away. From a distance the men and boys could hear the laughter of the pirates and the weeping of their helpless victims. Kim buried her face in Van's chest and blocked her ears. Although she did not fully understand what was happening to the females, she knew now why Van had been careful to change her appearance.

On the next day another group of pirates boarded the boat and searched for money. When they could find none they lined up the men and threatened to shoot them. Van retrieved the wallet that he had secreted between some boards. The pirates took out the money and threw the wallet into the water. Once they had left Van dived in and retrieved the wallet. As he climbed back into the boat he ripped open his leg on a rusty piece of metal protruding from the side of the boat. His leg was cut through to the bone. A woman kindly bound the wound and Kim carefully dried the picture of Sunshine and Laughter.

When the third band of pirates boarded and found neither money nor jewels, they forced everyone to open their mouths and without mercy used rusted pliers to rip out any teeth that contained gold fillings.

By the end of the second week the group had been reduced through starvation, dehydration, sickness and madness to only fifteen. Van himself was wracked with fever from the untreated leg wound. Kim felt useless as she dripped cool seawater on his burning forehead and offered comforting words. Others were too weak to help. When the huge American naval ship cast a shadow over the _Tự Do_ the sailors thought they had found a boatload of corpses.

Although an agreement with the new Vietnamese government prevented the Americans from taking the refugees on board the sailors supplied them with food, water, fuel, a map and wishes of good luck.

Two days later they spotted the Malaysian island of Pulau Bidong. Van died before they reached land. With the help of the kind lady who had bandaged Van's leg, Kim buried her brave cousin in the forest, carved his name in a tree and offered simple prayers.

While some, too ill and weak to continue, remained on the island in the hope of better prospects, others, imbued with renewed spirit and determination, decided to push north to Hong Kong and the dream of resettlement in a new land. With the photo in hand, Kim climbed sadly back on board.

Ultimately the small boat lived up to its name, _Tự Do... Freedom._

CHAPTER 21

Kim's story had both intrigued and exhausted Tess. She was sleeping when Mia entered her room at the hospital.

"Your grandmother will be right to go home tomorrow," whispered the nurse as they passed at the doorway.

"Thank you," Mia smiled. "Is she going to be alright?"

"I'm sure she will be. The doctor is confident that the fainting wasn't anything to do with her..." The nurse suddenly stopped herself.

"It's okay. I know about her heart problem."

"Alright, well the doctor says it's not associated with that. It was probably just stress related."

Mia walked over to the bed. She wanted to kiss Tess on the forehead but didn't want to risk waking her up so she quietly sat in the chair. The ceiling-mounted television above the bed was on with the volume down. Mia idly watched the pictures flicker by until a picture of Peter flashed onto the screen. It showed him in full dress uniform, just as he was on the day he left for Afghanistan. Just how Mia remembered him. The next picture had Mia gasping with shock. His swollen face was bruised and discoloured. If it weren't for the fact that his name was on the screen Mia was sure she wouldn't even recognise him.

Her eyes watered up. _I just hope mum hasn't seen this_. She reached for the volume control and turned it up just enough so that it wouldn't stir Tess. Another photo, clearly a high ranking officer, appeared on the screen.

Katz has been hailed a hero by his commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Frank Elliott. Let's hear what he had to say. "Putting aside the fact that he has survived two years of hell at the hands of the Taliban, Peter Katz has previously proved himself in battle over many years."

Katz' company leader, Major Cheryl Ferguson was also unequivocal in her praise. "When the heat's on out there in the field, Katz is one of the first people I'd want backing me up."

The army states that it will provide all the support Katz requires to see him back to a full recovery.

Now in other news...

Mia felt a lump forming in her throat as she switched off the television. She thought that if she didn't distract herself she would start blubbering like a baby ... _and if Nan wakes up to that she'll think she's died._

Mia saw the promise key on the shelf beside Tess's bed and reached for it. _A Promise Key, what a strange thing. What about a locket, or something a bit more romantic? What about a ring? The small engraved letters and numbers would just as easily fit on a ring. But a key? The key to her heart? The key to their future? Well, that's how Nan sees it so that's what matters, I guess._

Mia replaced the key and looked at the book she had brought for Tess to read: _A Journey With The Tillerman_. She opened it at the page where the bookmark was protruding. The bookmark was actually a business card.

Pacific Coast Community Bank

Deepak Chandra – Manager

Mia turned the card over and read the other side.

Originally established by local merchants in 1950 as Town & Country Mutual, PCCB is still owned by its customers and continues to give the service you deserve.

_Blah, blah, blah._ She looked at the page she had opened and started reading softly to herself:

LOVE'S PROMISE KEPT

Your fee to cross t'other side?

I asked and tipped my hat.

Just threepence, said the tillerman,

A ha'penny for your cat.

I paid the fare then as he plied

His punt thru reeds of green

That fee, he said, is go and whoa

But not for in between.

Twixt go and whoa? I raised a brow

Pray tell your price for that?

' _Tis up to you, but should you choose_

I'd settle for the cat.

My friend is worth ten shillings, sir,

What give you in his stead?

What any man most deeply yearns,

Love's promise kept, he said.

The afternoon sun shone warmly on Mia's face and the book relaxed in her hands as she drifted off to sleep.

She reached out over the side of the boat. The struggling animal was almost within reach. Almost ... almost... yes! She had it. Mia hauled in the soggy, half-dead cat and dried it with a towel.

What's your name? Mia looked at the key that hung from the kitten's neck. T&CM. Who would call a cat that? If you were mine I'd call you ... let's see. Mia ran her finger over the kitten's brown patch. Like a small penny. Ha'penny. Yes, that's a good name for a cat. It's better than T&CM, anyway.

Yes, T&CM is a strange name, sighed Tess. Mia swung around to see her grandmother, dressed as a bride, sitting at the back of the boat with one hand on the till. In the other she held a steaming hot cup of tea. But maybe that's not the cat's name, she said. Some things are just not as they seem. Oops!

Tess dropped her cup and it smashed on the floor of the boat.

Mia sat up with a fright.

"What's wrong, dear? Bad dream?"

"Oh, you're awake, Nan!" Mia closed the book and put it on the bedside shelf. "I brought this for you. Some pretty heavy reading in there!"

"Thank you. Where's your mother?"

"She stayed back at the hotel. She was expecting Peter to call."

Tess picked up the small poetry book and started reading. Mia frowned, thinking about her strange dream.

"Nan," she said after a while, "you know your key."

"Yes, dear."

"Are you sure that it means what you think it means?"

"Of course. What else could it mean?

"Oh, I don't know, but in the old days ...I mean, when you were younger the man's name always went first, didn't it? Like Mr and Mrs Tom and Mary Jones."

"Yes, I suppose it did."

"Well, why would my grandfather put T&CM instead of C&TM?"

"Oh, I don't really know. I've never really thought about that. Maybe he just wanted to put me first out of respect."

"Yes, I guess you're right."

Tess sighed deeply. "A lot has happened in the past couple of days. Peter is safe. How exciting is that? And I've seen a little spark in you that has been missing for a while, too." She motioned for Mia to come closer. "And me, well, while I haven't had all my questions answered I've come pretty close. Maybe as close as I'll get. I always loved your grandfather and now I know he always loved me." Tess reached for the promise key. "Here, I don't need this to remind me anymore. I have memories and now I have his letters."

Tess put the key into Mia's hands and closed her fingers around it.

CHAPTER 22

_Monday July 8_ th

On Monday morning a sharp knock on their apartment door woke Alison. She opened the door to find the manager standing there holding up a small, white card.

"Sorry to wake you, Ms Turner, but the police want to talk to you." said Mr Foley. "The officer asked me to pass on his details. Constable Ben Leeson's his name." He handed Alison a card. "He left his number and asked you to call."

A few minutes later, Mia walked in with milk and a small packet of ham from the convenience store. She decided not to tell Alison what the shopkeeper had confessed about the shop losing power overnight. Mia didn't want her mother fussing about the meat being off and unsafe to eat. Anyway, Mia was the only one who had a sudden craving for something other than vegemite on toast.

"What could this possibly be about, Mia?" Alison asked over breakfast.

"I really don't know, Mum. I promised I wouldn't rob anymore banks after the last time and I meant it."

"Mia, this is serious. The police want me to bring you to the station at ten o'clock. I'd really like to be a little bit prepared."

"Honestly, I haven't a clue. It must be a mix up."

"Well, let's hope so. I'll ring the hospital shortly and tell Mum I'll be a bit late."

"Do you think the prison will be as flexible with its visiting hours as the hospital, Mum?"

"Mia, stop it!"

Nothing was very far away in Clowder Bay and even though the Police Station was considered to be on the outskirts it was really only a fifteen minute walk from their hotel.

Two uniformed officers were standing at the front counter when Alison and Mia entered the station. The younger one looked up and smiled.

"Ah, I'm hoping this is Mia."

"Yes, and I'm Alison Turner, Mia's mother."

"Well, it's good you could come. I'm Constable Ben Leeson. The others are here so we can get started.

"Others? Why are we here, officer?"

"If you can just be patient a moment longer, Mrs Turner."

Constable Leeson led them down a short corridor to a door. "See," Mia whispered as she pointed to the sign that said _Interview Room_ , "it's just where they torture their suspects. Nothing to worry about."

The officer opened the door. The first person Alison saw among those seated around the table was Kim Trang. Jimmy was beside her. Facing them on the opposite side of the table was a girl and a woman that Alison didn't know.

"Hello, Jimmy. Hello, Savannah," Mia was momentarily lost for a witty one-liner.

"Kim! I hope there's nothing wrong." said Alison.

"Damn right there's something wrong." The angry-looking, pony-tailed woman in a business suit placed both hands firmly on the table. "My daughter ..."

"How about I do some introductions before we go too far?" interrupted the policeman.

Mia sat in the spare seat beside Jimmy and Alison sat beside her. The police officer took his position at the head of the table. "I understand most of you know each other, with the exception of the Turners."

As Constable Leeson made his way around the table putting a name to each face, Mia noticed that Savannah was looking at the floor, the ceiling, her fingernails - everywhere except at her and Jimmy.

"I really don't know why we're here," Alison shook her head. "Can you please get to the point. My mother's leaving hospital today and I'm very anxious to be with her."

"Well, your daughter almost put my Savannah in hosp...!"

"Mrs Lowman, please." Leeson held up his hand as though trying to stop a speeding truck driver. "If I may start," he said calmly.

The officer looked at the two women on his left. "Firstly, Mrs Turner and Mrs Trang, I want to put your minds at ease. At this stage we are only investigating Mrs Lowman's complaint against your children. Nobody is being charged with anything, yet. I'm hoping we can settle this with some low-key arbitration."

"Complaint? Charged?" Kim's face reflected the horror she felt inside. "What are you talking about? Jimmy what have you done? Mrs Lowman, please, whatever it is I am very sorry..."

"It's a bit late for sorry, Kim. The damage is done, isn't it? And we have a problem, don't we? What with me being your landlady and you being my tenant. I'm not so sure it's safe to let this arrangement continue."

"Ladies, please." This time Constable Ben Leeson held up both hands and tried for a little more assertion in his voice. "It's up to me to make a recommendation to my sergeant about this matter and it's highly unlikely that my recommendation will be in favour of any party to these discussion that is not prepared to engage with other parties in a spirit of cooperation and goodwill." He cast a stern gaze around the room. "Have I not made myself clear?"

Mia wrinkled her nose. "Yes, sir."

"Good, then let's continue."

"I mean, yes, sir, you have not made yourself clear. I've never been very good with double negatives."

Alison kicked her daughter under the table.

The young police officer clenched his teeth. "Well, what I mean is will everyone just shut... I mean, please be quiet and let me start." Constable Leeson had originally been rostered for highway patrol and now quietly wished he hadn't agreed to swap with his colleague who really wanted to try out the new V8 squad car.

"I'll start by reading the details of the complaint as presented by Doris Lowman and her daughter. Once I've finished, Doris Lowman and Savannah will have the opportunity to make corrections to their claim then Jimmy and Mia will have the opportunity to respond. Any questions? Good.

"It is claimed by Doris Lowman that last Wednesday, July 3rd, Savannah presented herself at her home with a wound to her left arm. Savannah reported to her mother that earlier that day she had been assaulted by Jimmy Trang and Mia Turner."

All jaws on Mia's side of the table dropped simultaneously.

"What did you say?" Alison could hardly get the words out.

Leeson continued. "Mrs Turner took Savannah to the hospital for immediate medical treatment." Constable Leeson shuffled though his manila folder and took out a sheet of paper. Scanning the sheet he continued. "The doctor's reports mentions _abrasion to the epidermis consistent with contact with a hard, rough surface_."

"Jimmy, I don't believe it. You attacked Savannah?"

The officer again held up his hand. "There will be time for questions." He returned to the statement of complaint. "Savannah reported to her mother, and later repeated her claim to me, that she and her friend, Mitchell Reynolds, were walking along the footpath when Jimmy Trang called them over to his side of the road. Savannah states that she was surprised because Jimmy has been very rude to her in recent times. However, despite her reservations, Savannah and Mitchell did join Jimmy on the other side of the road at which time, and without provocation, Mia Turner pushed Savannah onto the footpath causing her injury. Immediately following this incident, Jimmy Trang used martial arts against Mitchell Reynolds thereby causing bodily injury. The assertion that this alleged assault was deliberate and premeditated is supported by the fact that Jimmy and Mia were subsequently observed to run away laughing."

Kim Trang wiped her eyes with a tissue and Alison looked quizzically at Mia. Ben Leeson looked at Doris Lowman and Savannah. "Would you like to add anything?"

"Yes, I most certainly would," Savannah's mother folded her arms. "Since I made that report it has been confirmed that Mitchell has a broken foot due to that boy," she pointed across at Jimmy, "that ... that ... juvenile delinquent! I'm sure that if he were not at this moment confined to a wheelchair Mitchell would be here in person making his own complaint."

"Yes, I contacted the hospital yesterday and I've also spoken with Mitch's grandfather. They have confirmed an injury to Mitch's foot. I'm yet to get a statement from Mr Reynolds or Mitch but that is a different matter. We need to deal with this one first."

He turned to Jimmy. "First of all, Jimmy – would you like to respond to what Savannah and her mother have said?"

"Jimmy, just apologise to Savannah and Mrs Lowman. Apologise now!" Kim dabbed her eyes again.

Jimmy's response took his mother by surprise. "No, I won't apologise. Savannah deserved what she got and Mitch deserved what he got. What's to apologise for?"

Everyone looked stunned. Ben Leeson silently congratulated himself for extracting the quickest confession in the history of the Clowder Bay police. Then Mia spoke up.

"Jimmy's right, Savannah and Mitch did deserve it. But I would like to point out that Savannah's so-called injury was an accident."

"So-called injury!" Doris Lowman was red-faced. "Didn't you listen to the doctor's report?"

It was Alison's turn. "Yes I did, Mrs Lowman. And it really doesn't say that Savannah received anything more than a scratch. May I ask what treatment the doctor offered or suggested?"

Doris Lowman suddenly looked uncomfortable. "He said to cover it with a band aid ... but that's beside the point. Your daughter assaulted my daughter. The extent of the injury is immaterial."

"Mitch pushed me into her."

"What did you say, Mia?" asked Ben Leeson.

"I said Mitch pushed me into her."

"That's a lie," shouted Savannah. "You've had it in for me since that first day we met on the beach."

"I did not have it in for you. I was just helping Jimmy form a team. You were deliberately excluding him."

"If I may interrupt..." Ben Leeson again shuffled thorough his folder. "...Yes here it is. I spoke to the twins. Unfortunately, due to a family trip they are unable to be here. They did however give me a little information. Now, Ruby and Toby don't say that either Mia or Jimmy was being overly aggressive but they do think that Mia, especially, seemed to be deliberately aggravating Savannah." He looked at Mia. "If that's true, Mia, then it seems that from the very first time you met Savannah you decided that you didn't like her and that you would make things unpleasant for her."

"If I made things unpleasant for Savannah, then I'm sorry. But my only intention was to help Jimmy."

"Help Jimmy?" Doris Lowman slapped the table. "He doesn't need any help. Tell the officer what were you wearing when you attacked Mitch the other day. You were wearing your martial arts clothes, weren't you? You were wandering the streets like a ... like a..."

"Ninja nerd," snarled Savannah.

"Yes, and looking for trouble, weren't you?"

"Excuse me, Mrs Lowman." Kim pushed her chair back and stood up. "My Jimmy was coming home from self-defence classes. He only goes to them so he can protect himself from people like your daughter."

"My daughter is the one who needs protecting!" Doris Lowman was shouting now which caused Ben Leeson to raise his voice to get everyone to settle down.

Just then the phone on the side table rang and Leeson picked it up. "There was a moment of silence. "Okay, bring her in." He replaced the receiver and a few seconds later the door opened and Tess entered the room.

"Mum," Alison stood up and went over to her. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was ready to leave the hospital early so I got a taxi back to the hotel to surprise you. Turns out I was the one to get the surprise. What's going on? Oh, hello, Kim." Tess walked around the table and sat beside Jimmy's mother.

"See, Constable?" exclaimed Mrs Lowman. "Look at them over there. These people have a pack mentality. All sitting together trying to intimidate Savannah and me simply because we are prepared to stand up for our rights."

"Goodness me," Tess frowned, "we haven't even been introduced and you already think I'm intimidating. Well, I only know two things for sure, dear. Sometimes things are just not as they seem and I think we could all do with a cup of tea. Constable?"

The phone rang again. Leeson let out an audible sigh that clearly meant that he thought he should be out catching real crooks. "Really?" Leeson looked surprised. "Okay. Bring them in."

He looked at the faces around the table. "It seems we need more chairs."

"Well, since you're organising that, Officer," Tess suggested," you might as well put the kettle on at the same time."

"I'd really like a glass of water," said Mia looking a little pale.

CHAPTER 23

Landstuhl Regional Medical Centre - Germany

Captain Sally Willis smiled broadly at Katz as she walked over to the garden seat where he sat in the sun reading an English-language newspaper.

"I hope you're okay for a visitor."

Katz looked up and instantly his eyes moistened and bottom lip started to tremble. He fumbled for his walking stick but the woman leaned over and kissed him gently on his good cheek. She too began to cry.

"I was going to be strong for you. Now look at us."

Katz reached for her hand, drew it to his lips and kissed it. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"I know. Losing you was like losing a part of myself. I love you, Pete, you believe that, don't you?"

"And I love you too, Sal. I know I never said that enough."

Katz realized that now, in front of the person he had always tried so hard to impress, he looked anything but the hero the media was portraying him as. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself.

"So, you're a captain now. Well done. Still counselling?"

"Actually, that's why I'm here ... well, apart from wanting to see you and give you the biggest kiss in the world. Even though I'm not assigned to your regiment I've got special approval. I'm officially your counsellor."

"Counsellor! What do I need a counsellor for? I've been in a hole in a mountain in a desert for two years. What could possibly be wrong with me?"

Willis knew Katz was only half joking. He was strong-willed, one of the strongest men she knew, but the trauma would still be there, however deep, and would reveal itself slowly but surely over time. And she wanted to be there to help.

"You know I'm the last person in the world you can fool. But maybe you are one of the lucky ones and nothing's wrong with you. So let's just look at it as an opportunity to make up for lost time. And if you need to talk about anything, I'm being paid to listen. So accept it. For the next three months we will be inseparable. Consider me your shadow."

Katz smiled. "Good."

CHAPTER 24

Shorty Reynolds helped his grandson with his crutches and they sat down at the interview room table.

Shorty smiled at Tess. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon. Good to see you up and about." He then turned to Constable Leeson. "Mitchell is feeling a bit better and we thought we might pop in to see if we can be of any assistance."

"Thank goodness you're here, Timothy. You certainly can be of assistance," Doris Lowman said severely. "We're being ganged up on here!"

"It's alright, Doris. I'm sure Ben has everything under control."

Constable Leeson shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Well, we're not making as much progress as I'd hoped but now that Mitchell is here to put his version of events I'm sure we'll make some headway." The policeman briefly reiterated the complaint and quickly brought Shorty and Mitch up to speed.

"Like I said," Doris Lowman shook her head, "this poor boy is as much a victim as my Savannah. When I was in office I worked tirelessly to make this community a safe place for everyone. If I were still Mayor this meeting would be over by now. That boy," she pointed at Jimmy, "would be behind bars and that girl," she pointed at Mia, "and her family would be getting a police escort out of town."

"Well, fortunately for everyone, Doris," Shorty drawled, "we don't put kids in jail for little stuff like this anymore. Don't get me wrong, I sure don't like the sound of what I'm hearing and I have to say I'm surprised. This doesn't sound like something Jimmy would do. Up til now I believed Mitchell hurt himself playing footy on the beach. That's what he told me, anyway." He turned to his grandson. "What's the story, mate? Have you and Jimmy had a run-in or what?"

Mia noticed that Mitch was avoiding eye contact as well. Savannah was glaring at him with such mental force that Mia knew Mitch would be able to feel her eyes drilling through his temple. _Here come more lies_ , she thought. Mitch cleared his throat.

"Yeah, Jimmy and I haven't been getting along too well for a while."

"Exactly," Savannah pumped her fist triumphantly, "Just like I said."

"Hold on," Shorty put his hand up for silence. Tess smiled to herself. _Is this the same shy boy who used hardly be able to speak to me without blushing?_ "Mitchell hasn't finished."

Mitch continued, "But it's not Jimmy's fault. I'm a lousy friend." He looked across the table. "I'm sorry, Jimmy."

"Well this is all very nice," snarled Doris Lowman sarcastically, "but I fail to see how any friendship problems between you boys have anything to do with my daughter being assaulted in the street."

"It was Savannah's idea."

Savannah sat up straight. "You watch what you say, Mitch!" she barked with a lacerating stare.

"Shut up, Savannah. It wasn't Jimmy's or Mia's fault. It was my fault for listening to you. You're the one who told me to get in Jimmy's face. And like an idiot I did what you said. Just like I always do. And if Jimmy hadn't got me first I probably would have broken his nose."

"Well that doesn't excuse what she..."

"Mrs Lowman, my daughter has a name. Please use it."

"Oh whatever! My daughter was still hurt."

"Because I pushed Mia into her." Tears welled in Mitch's eyes and Shorty put his arm around his grandson's shoulder. Mitch turned to Savannah. "No more, Savannah. You've already made life so miserable for some kids that they've left the school. You think you're surrounded by kids who want to be your friends, but you're surrounded by kids that are just too scared not to be your friends. And I don't want to lose Jimmy. You're... you're just not worth it." He looked at Tess. "There's nothing worse than a fair-feathered friend."

Shorty grinned. "Close enough, mate."

Finally Doris Lowman was silent.

Savannah stared at the table as tears started to form in her eyes.

"Well," announced Shorty standing. "I think we can safely rule a line under this little episode. We'll be off then." He helped Mitch stand and manage his crutches. As they left the room Shorty leaned in close to the boy. "I'm proud of you, mate."

"This is not over, Kim." Doris Lowman shook her finger at Kim Trang. "I will be terminating your lease of the restaurant immediately. You have until the end of this week to vacate the premises. Clear out the restaurant and clear out your apartment."

"But you can't do that, Mrs Lowman. It is our home. We have a contract!" She turned to Ben Lesson. "Tell her, officer, we have a contract!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs Trang." Ben Leeson sounded genuinely apologetic. "That's one for the lawyers."

"Well said, Constable," beamed Doris Lowman turning her back on Kim. "And Mrs Trang is perfectly free to engage a solicitor to challenge my action. But I'm quite confident that my purse is a lot deeper than hers." She then smiled at the hapless police officer. "Constable Leeson, a word in private, please."

As the others left the station Constable Leeson sat uncomfortably in the room with Savannah Lowman and her mother.

"Constable, you enjoy working in Clowder Bay, I presume."

"Yes, Mrs Lowman, it's a great posting. I love it here."

"Lovely. Well, although I am no longer the mayor I think you will appreciate that I continue to know a number of very important people. In fact, the Deputy Commissioner of Police is a personal friend. It would be wise to keep that in mind as you write your report to your sergeant."

Clearly taken aback, the police officer frowned. "Mrs Lowman, I just want to be clear. Are you threatening me?

"Threatening? Goodness me. I would never. But you are a young man in the early stages of what seems to be a promising career. It's only fair that you are aware of all the relevant circumstances. Come on, Savannah."

Constable Ben Leeson made himself a coffee and sat down to write the report to his sergeant. He picked up a pen and played with it in his fingers. Doris Lowman was right, he did like his Clowder Bay posting. He loved to go for a quick surf in his lunch break. He enjoyed mixing with the kids at the police discos. He didn't enjoy breaking news to families of fatal traffic accidents but he genuinely appreciated that it was a privilege being in a position to help loved ones cope at such tragic times. All in all, he enjoyed his job.

At last Constable Leeson put pen to paper. He sighed deeply as he wrote his final recommendations:

1. That Mrs Doris Lowman's complaint be dismissed without further action.

2. That Mrs Doris Lowman receive an official warning regarding the threatening of a police officer with the intention of influencing the outcome of a police investigation.

He closed the folder and placed it on the sergeant's desk.

An hour later Ben Leeson was jogging onto the beach with his surfboard under his arm. _I'd better enjoy this while it lasts,_ he smiled to himself.

Towards the end of the meeting at the police station Mia had started to feel nauseous. "I think I'll go back to the room and lie down for a while," she said when Tess offered to buy lunch. When she eventually reached the room she went straight to the toilet and vomited.

She was feeling a little better in the evening when Mia, Jimmy and Mitch and families all came together for dinner. There was much to talk about and Kim's Kitchen seemed the most appropriate place. Jimmy's father brought in extra staff so that Kim and Jimmy could join their friends. Mia, Jimmy and Mitch had a table to themselves. The boys enjoyed telling Mia the story of their night in the bush although their versions differed concerning who actually had the best survival skills and was responsible for getting the fire going.

Kim, Alison, Tess and Shorty laughed and shared stories.

"This is a wonderful restaurant," exclaimed Shorty, "and the food is just magnificent. I don't know why I've haven't tried it before."

"Because it's not steak and potatoes," laughed Tess.

"Exactly right!" Shorty slapped his hand on his knee. "But as sure as my butt's not a watermelon, I'll be back!"

The adults didn't notice Mia leaving early to return to the hotel room.

"But Doris Lowman is right," said Kim sadly. "She's rich and can evict us whenever she likes and the only way I can fight her is by hiring a lawyer. We can't afford that. Even if we thought we could win, and I'm sure we would, it could take months, maybe even more than a year to settle this. There is a vacant shop available back from the beach, but it is difficult enough in the restaurant business. We couldn't survive if we moved from the main street."

Tess took Kim's hand. "If only half of the things you've told me are true, Kim, you are still one of the toughest women I have ever had the honour of meeting. You will get through this."

"Thank you, Tess." Kim looked through to the kitchen to where her husband was clouded in steam and good-smells. "We love this town. But we're finished. We'll start packing up the restaurant tomorrow."

Mia lay awake staring at the ceiling as Alison and Tess returned from dinner. She closed her eyes as she heard the door open.

"Mia, are you awake?" she heard her mother whisper.

"Yes."

Alison closed the door and walked over to Mia's bed.

"If you're still feeling sick I can give you something to help settle your stomach."

"I'm alright at the moment but maybe I might need something a bit later."

Alison poured a glass of water from the fridge. She placed the glass and two small tablets on Mia's bedside table?

Alison went quietly into Tess's room for more talk over a late-night beverage. Mia's bedside radio softly hummed its mix of music and news. So much was happening that she thought her head would start spinning. And it did.

Savannah is a bully, that much is certain, but imagine having her mother.

What's going to happen to Jimmy?

When will we see Peter?

How do you get over what he's been through?

The eleven o'clock news quietly broke the sensational story of the capture of one of the most wanted terrorist in Afghanistan. Ahmed Khan was wounded, but not fatally, and several of his associates were killed. There were no fatalities among the combined American and Australian Special Forces Assault Team.

Hopefully it'll be a beach wedding so I don't have to wear a dress.

Is Nan telling the truth when she says she's going to be fine?

Mia's eyes became heavy.

Mitch isn't such a boofhead after all.

Her eyes closed as she drifted into that foggy place between thoughts and dreams _._

If I had a cat I'd name it Oscar... A ha'penny said the tillerman... Originally established by local merchants in 1950, some things are just not as they seem, If I had a cat I'd name it T&CM....

Mia's eyes opened wide. She jumped out of bed and hurried over to where she had dropped her jeans on the floor. She took the promise key from the pocket and looked at it as though for the first time.

CHAPTER 25

_Tuesday July 9_ th

When Mia woke the sun had been up for at least an hour and a half but with the curtains drawn it was still dark in the apartment. She sprang out of bed, hurried to the toilet and emptied her stomach of its contents. Although she felt a bit better as she fell back onto the bed she guessed it wouldn't last. She reached for the tablets that Alison had left on the bedside table but knocked them both onto the floor where they rolled underneath the bed. She moved on to her side, reached down and stretched her hand under the bed, fumbling for the pills.

"Gotcha." Mia sat up and took the tablets with water. She lay down again and went back to sleep. Twenty minutes later she was suddenly wide awake. _The key!_ She dressed quickly but quietly and hurried out the door.

"Where's Mia?" asked Tess as she came through the connecting door a half hour later.

"I don't know." Alison was worried. "I've just woken up. I don't think she's had any breakfast. And her phone is here. Maybe she's gone to help Jimmy and his family."

"Oh, well, no reason for us to starve." Tess opened the fridge. "Oh my stars! What's that smell." She took out what was left of the wrapped ham and put it closer to her nose." Tess screwed up her face. "Now I know why she was feeling sick."

"Oh, throw it out for the cats," gasped Alison. Tess wrapped the bad meat in ten sheets of newspaper and put in in the kitchen bin.

Alison looked over to Mia's bedside table. "I gave her some anti-nausea tablets. "She must be feeling alright this morning." Just then Alison noticed a small white dot on the floor just under Mia's bed. Going over to the bed she picked up one of the tablets she left for Mia the night before. Then, getting down on her hands and knees, she looked further under the bed.

Alison stretched her fingers under and scraped out several small tablets. She stood and asked Tess to help her move the bed. Underneath they found a yellow, plastic pill container."

"Oh my god! What has she taken?"

Disregarding the _Back in 10_ _minutes_ sign, Alison banged on the manager's door.

"I found these under one of the beds. What are they?" she demanded before Mr Foley could register what was being thrust in front of his face.

"Well," he faltered, "it looks just like the pill container the police took from those druggies who rented the room before you. Gee, there must have been another one. I'm sorry if the cleaners missed it."

"What are they?" Alison demanded again. "Whatever it is, my daughter has taken one, possibly two!"

Mr Foley suddenly looked alarmed. "Look, Mrs Turner, I really don't know. We'll have to ask the police. Best get her to the hospital as soon as possible."

"I can't. She's not here!"

Mia's head throbbed as she jogged towards the Pacific Coast Community Bank. Although still early the footpaths were sprinkled with shoppers. However the noise of council machinery working in front of the florist shop had deterred many of the usual café goers that would otherwise have been enjoying their _al fresco_ breakfasts.

When she arrived at the bank the doors were locked. She looked at the sign. _It opens at nine_. She peered through the glass and saw a clock on the wall: _8:40... Damn it! Hey what's that?_ Mia saw someone inside the bank and started knocking on the door. When she was ignored she knocked harder. Zoe gave a disapproving look and pointed to the sign displaying the opening hours then went back to her coffee and newspaper.

For the next twenty minutes Mia paced outside on the footpath, becoming increasingly anxious with each step. The jackhammer operating nearby seemed to be pounding directly into her head. She was standing at the door when it finally opened at nine o'clock.

"Can I see Mr Chandra, please?"

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but it's important."

"Well, I'll check his diary. You might have to come back later, unless there's something I can help you with."

Just then the door to the rear office opened. Mia instinctively gulped but then reminded herself that the axe-murderer business had all been sorted.

"Mr Chandra," she called out. "I'm Alison Turner's daughter."

Dep Chandra masked his bewilderment with a friendly smile.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you. Mia, isn't it? Are you being looked after?"

Zoe turned to the manager. "I'm just making an appointment for her."

Mia took deep, quick breaths. "I don't need and appointment!" she snapped. "You can see he's just there."

"I beg your pardon, Miss,"

"It's alright, Zoe. I'm free now. Would you like to come in, Mia? Except for a machete, I've left all my weapons at home today, I promise."

For once Mia had no time for jokes. She reached into her pocket and took out the key.

"Can you tell me about this?"

Dep Chandra walked through to public area and took the key.

"It belongs to my grandmother," said Mia. Dep turned it over in his hand as though examining it from every angle might reveal a vital clue.

"Well, it's key. That much is certain."

"Of course it's a key!" Mia shut her eyes tight. She felt flushed.

Dep looked at Mia. "Are you feeling alright?"

Mia nodded unconvincingly. Her mouth was so dry. She felt so hot.

Dep continued, "It's old and most likely it is for a safe or a box."

"A box?"

"Possibly. A safety deposit box."

"Well, where is it? Look, it's got your bank's initials on it." Mia was looking and sounding very frustrated. All night she had imagined that the manager's face would light up with instant recognition and her question would be immediately answered.

"We're actually PCCB now, Mia. We haven't been Town and Country Mutual for many years. Long before my time here. We don't even have safety deposit boxes anymore."

He could see the look of disappointment on Mia's face. "I tell you what. Mrs Donaldson will probably know a bit more about this than I do. She's worked here since Adam was in nappies."

"Can we ask her now? Where is she?"

"She only works part-time. But I am expecting her later. How about you leave this with me and I'll have her look at it. Do you have a number I can reach you on?"

Mia pressed her hand against her back pocket. "No, I must've ... I don't have my phone."

"I know, what's your mother's number. Maybe I can reach you on that."

Mia raised an eyebrow. Dep smiled. "Okay. How about you come back later."

Mia stared at Dep without responding.

"Mia, are you sure you're okay?"

"Oh, sorry. Here." Mia handed Dep Chandra the key and walked outside. She found a seat nearby and sat with her head on her hands.

The ground is moving.

At that moment the jackhammer started again.

_So noisy_. Mia put her hands over her ears.

A huge truck delivering concrete pulled in against the kerb and began reversing towards the workmen near where Mia sat, its loud beeping alert signal warning anyone nearby to watch out.

Damned fridge – I've left it open again...

Mia stood up groggily and tried to blink her eyes into focus.

She stumbled onto the road confused then collapsed. Her head hit the asphalt hard. A scream from a lady walking past the bank failed to alert the driver who himself could barely hear the trucks alarm above the explosive jack hammer. Another woman waved frantically at the driver who retuned her wave with a smile and sounded his horn for the amusement of her children. Others half-shielded their eyes and braced themselves for a gruesome ending.

Only Dep Chandra moved. He had watched Mia leave the bank, concerned that she was not well. The huge tyres were within centimetres of crushing Mia's legs when Dep reached her. With no time to drag her out of the way he took hold of her feet, reoriented her body and jumped out of the path of the truck. The huge wheels passed on either side of her. Dep quickly stepped aside. In his side mirror the driver suddenly saw Dep frantically waving his arms and screaming. All at once he was aware that every eye in the street was focussed on his truck. The driver jammed on his brakes as the heavy steel casing of the truck's low-mounted differential came to rest against Mia's head.

As the driver slowly moved his vehicle forward and clear of Mia's body Zoe was already dialling 000.

Alison and Tess rushed into the ward ignoring someone's comment about how the hospital would close if it weren't for the tourists. Seeing Mia lying with her eyes closed, head bandaged and attached to the machines and tubes was too much and Tess straightaway knew how her granddaughter must have felt seeing her a few days earlier.

"She's suffered some head trauma. I've booked scans so we should know the extent of the head injury within a couple of hours."

Alison handed the doctor the pills. "We think she accidently took some of these."

Tess and Alison were by Mia's side when the doctor returned an hour later.

"Those pills you gave me, it's MDMA."

Tess and Alison looked at him quizzically.

"An amphetamine," he explained. "You've probably heard of ecstasy."

Alison's eyes widened as she put her hands to her mouth.

"Oh the poor girl, she was probably hallucinating. She could have been killed."

The doctor tried to assure them that he'd seen this sort of thing before. They would, he promised, flush all the drugs out of her system and Mia would soon regain consciousness and make a full recovery. Tess and Alison both thought that he looked too young to have seen very much at all outside of medical school.

Alison blamed herself for being so preoccupied with the thoughts of Peter and distracted by the ridiculous complaint made by Savannah's mother that she hadn't being paying enough attention to her daughter. Tess in turn blamed her own spell in hospital saying that it had distracted them both.

On the other hand, they were grateful that Dep Chandra had followed the ambulance to the hospital to ensure that staff at least knew the patient's and her mother's names. They were very grateful that the nurses recognised Mia from her previous visits to Tess and were therefore able to make quick contact with Alison by checking Tess's file.

When Mia was wheeled away for the brain scan Tess and Alison took the opportunity to have a quick lunch in the cafeteria. When they returned a woman was placing a large floral arrangement on the window ledge. Several colourful helium-filled balloons, tethered by gold ribbon, floated above the flowers.

"Hello," said Alison. The woman turned around. "Oh, you're from the bank."

"Yes, I'm Zoe. We're really sorry about Mia. Is she going to be alright?"

"The doctor thinks she will be fine. We just hope he's right. I believe Dep saved Mia's life. Will you please pass on our deepest gratitude? I'll do it personally as soon as I can."

"I will." Zoe adjusted a large orchid so that it sat just right. "Well, better get back to work."

"Thank you for the flowers. Mia will love them."

Zoe walked to the door. "Oh, Ms Newell, Dep would like you to drop by the bank this afternoon. It's about the key Mia left with him." With a pleasant smile, she turned and left.

"The key?" pondered Tess. "So that's why she was there." Now Tess had another reason to feel guilty for Mia's current predicament. She had given Mia the key not realising that it would send her off on a wild goose chase to find some alternative meaning for the engraved letters and numbers.

"Once she gets an idea into her head nothing will stop her," mused Alison putting her nose to the flowers. "Mmm, they're beautiful." Then she read the card that was attached.

Tess was perplexed. "If he wants to give the key back to me he should have just sent it with Zoe. Ah, I know what he's up to. Maybe he's hoping that you will come with me. My fault, I should never have encouraged him."

Alison shook her head. "I don't think that's it, Mum." She read the card. " _Dear Mia, we hope you get well soon. Kind regards Dep and Zoe Chandra_."

"Oh!" Tess put her hand to her cheek. "Well, as I always say: _Some things just aren't as they seem._ "

At that moment Mia was wheeled back in to the room.

"Is she going to be alright?" Alison asked anxiously.

"Sorry, ma'am, I'm just the wardsman. A nurse should be along in a moment."

CHAPTER 26

_Wednesday July 10_ th

Dep Chandra rose from his desk as Zoe showed Tess into the manager's office.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come yesterday," Tess apologised.

"I understand perfectly. How is she today?"

"She was still out to it this morning. She'll be fine, I'm sure. You can't know how thankful we are that you were there for her."

"Please. I only did what anyone else would have. It was nothing."

"From what we've heard, it is the exact opposite. It appears that you did what nobody else would."

Dep Chandra reluctantly accepted Tess's tribute. "Well, I'm glad it all worked out and she's safe. Now, down to business."

"Business? I'm only here to collect my key. Well, Mia's key actually since I gave it to her."

"You might want to rethink that gift," suggested Dep with a wry smile.

Mrs Donaldson loved a puzzle. But this one was easy.

"That's an old safety deposit box key," she had answered without hesitation when Dep had shown her the key the previous day." She pointed to the engraving. "Town and Country Mutual: Box number seventy-two."

"Where would it be now?"

"Oh, we wouldn't have it any longer. When we changed to PCCB the board made the decision not to hold safety deposit boxes anymore. I actually had the job of writing to every box holder to ask them to come in take whatever it was they were keeping safe. Mostly it would be documents, jewellery, currency, family mementos. One contained the skeleton of a snake!"

"And what would happen to the boxes?"

"As a gesture of goodwill we let owners keep the boxes if they wanted. Some did. Some just took the contents. One owner had died. His poor wife didn't know about the box until our letter arrived. Her excitement was short-lived, however. The box was full of love letters from his mistress."

"But what if a box wasn't collected? What would happen to it?"

"I'm almost certain that all boxes were collected. But I did leave soon afterwards to have my second baby."

"So it's possible that some boxes, or a box, would still be here?"

"Yes, I suppose so. And if it is it could only be in the safe."

"And that," Dep Chandra smiled triumphantly, "behind some boxes of historical records, is exactly where I found it!"

"A safety deposit box? And it matches my key? My goodness. Whatever is inside it?"

"I can't tell you that, Ms Newell. That's only for the owner to know. But with your permission I'll fetch it." Dep Chandra disappeared for a few minutes. When he returned he locked his office door behind him and placed a long, grey, metal box on his desk. The number seventy-two was engraved into an oval shaped tag and riveted onto the front of the drawer.

"Would you like me to leave?"

"No, please stay. Something might jump out."

"It would be something very dead," Dep grinned.

Tess didn't know why but she was trembling as she pushed the key into the keyhole. _My promise key is not a promise after all. It is something very different. But he did still love me. He said so in the letters. Maybe a ring. An engagement ring. No, he couldn't afford that. Beside, why would he want to leave me a ring when could have given it to me before he left?_

Even after these years the key turned easily. Tess open the lid. _No, not a ring._

Tess looked at Dep. "Would you please ..." Tess had opened enough letters in the past week to last her a lifetime.

"Certainly." Dep reached in and took out the large brown envelop. It contained several documents, all typed, that seemed to Tess to be very wordy and official.

Dep scanned the documents. Tess tried to read his expression but couldn't. Finally he looked up.

"Do you know a George McFudgen?"

"George McFudgen?" For an instant Tess could smell the oil and grease. She could see the tall, quiet man and the big, white smile that used greet her when she visited the workshop. "Yes, I do. He was Charlie's father."

"And Charlie is ..?"

Tess's eyes glistened. "Charlie is Alison's father. Mia's grandfather. He died in Vietnam. That's how I have the key. Although we weren't married we were, I suppose, unofficially engaged. Charlie nominated me as his next of kin so the army gave me the key."

"Well, it seems that these documents were left to Charlie by his father. And if you were nominated by Charlie as his next of kin, then they pass on to you." Dep scratched his head then continued. "With your approval I'll run all this past our solicitor just to verify your legal entitlement to the contents of the box."

"And?"

"And if everything checks out, Ms Newell, you are the owner of quite a lot of property in Clowder Bay."

Tess stared barely unable to take in what was being said. "Properties ... what properties?"

"Let's see. There is some industrial land on Forest Road, just outside town. All the land out that way backs on to the state forest and is fetching a good price. What else ... Two hectares up past the old post office. Beautiful position. Beach front property. And, finally, what's this one ... ah, yes, it seems that George McFudgen owned the old post office as well. He must have leased it to Australia Post, or the Postmaster-General's Department as it was known then. Actually, I wonder if we have an inactive account in his or his son's name. Let me see."

While Dep tapped on his keyboard searching the bank's computer records, Tess tried to get her head around what he had told her so far, especially the news that the McFudgen's owned the old Post Office, her beloved childhood home.

"Yes. Here's an inactive account in the name of Charles McFudgen." Dep clicked another couple of times. "Crikey!" Tess smiled at his attempt at a broad Australian accent. "Of course there haven't been any withdrawals from this account for over forty years but it seems that up until about ten years ago there were regular deposits. Quite large ones."

"Deposits? Who would have been depositing money into Fudge's account?"

"The deposits are dividends from shares. They look like shares in a mining company and every year the company deposited Charlie's share of its profits into his account. Mining companies come and go and I'd say this one went down not long after the final deposit." Dep Chandra tilted his head to one side and looked matter-of-factly at Tess. "Ms Newell, it seems that you are quite a wealthy woman."

Tess couldn't speak for a minute. Then she asked, "Would you mind calling Alison?"

Dep Chandra again listed Tess's newly-discovered property portfolio.

"I'm dumbfounded," said Alison. "Even the old post office. But how can this be? Mum owns the building she grew up in. It used be heritage listed. Now all of a sudden it's not. That building is due to be auctioned this Saturday and most likely knocked down soon after. And all this property mum now seems to own ... surely the council would have expected the owner to be paying rates all these years."

"Yes, it is all a bit strange," agreed Dep. "I'm going to do a bit of investigating. I have a friend who works in the finance section at the council. I'll ask Eddie to do a little quiet checking. I'll let you know what I can come up with."

Tess stood up. "Thank you, Dep, but it's not urgent. We know you must have other things to do as well."

"Actually," Dep disagreed, "with the Post Office auction this weekend, it is urgent. If it sells then we have to convince a court to prevent the development of the site while you establish your legal right to possession of the property. It could all take years and lots of money. Leave it with me."

Alison and Tess hurried back to the hospital to continue their vigil at Mia's bedside.

CHAPTER 27

Later that night, after sitting for several hours with Mia, Alison and Tess returned to their hotel room to find an envelope pushed under their door.

"It's for you, Mum."

Tess opened the envelope and took out a note from Bertie and another envelope.

Dear Tess,

I'm sorry I missed you today. The manager told me about your granddaughter. You are all in my thoughts.

It was lovely to catch up with you. I'm off to Brisbane again tomorrow and probably won't be back for some time. I wish you all the best for the future.

The letter enclosed was with the others I gave you. I must have missed it when I dropped them in my shop. I really hope it continues to give you some of the answers you seek.

With affection,

Bertie

"So many letters," sighed Tess.

Alison filled the kettle. "You don't have to read it tonight, Mum. You don't have to read it all."

"Yes, it has been a most unusual day. It's like a dream, really. All that property. What will I do with it."

"Well, for one thing, once the solicitor has established that it's legally yours, you won't have to work again. No more teaching."

"But I love teaching, Ali. I can't imagine not going back to it. But let's not put the cart before the horse. One step at a time."

Tess looked at the postmark on the letter. "Fudge promised that he wouldn't write to me again. My father told him that I didn't want to be _harassed_ anymore. I wonder what prompted this last letter." Tess put the envelope down as Alison placed two cups of steaming tea on the table. "Every nerve in my body is telling me to open it. But I'm sure whatever is inside it will keep me awake. And if I ever needed a good night's sleep, it's tonight."

_Thursday July 11_ th

Tess was usually an early riser but the next morning she slept until nine o'clock. She went onto the adjoining room to find that Alison had already left for the hospital. So over a cup of tea and a piece of toast, Tess read Charlie McFudgen's final letter.

_June 1_ st _1972_

Dear Tess

Getting off the plane back in Australia and seeing all the lads hugging their girlfriends and families really brought it home to me. When I didn't hear from you after my last letter and you weren't there on the tarmac I felt so very alone. Imagine that, surrounded by hundreds of people I felt like I was standing in a desert by myself with nothing but thousands of miles of sand in every direction. Then I did a most unusual thing – when I got back to the barracks I went to church. Me! The service had already started and one of the boys was up the front reading a prayer. It went something like this:

Grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can,  
And wisdom to know the difference.

Tess, those words hit me like a hammer. I spoke to my commanding officer about staying on in the army. I wanted to return to Vietnam. He said all the forces were being withdrawn. Then he said he'd try to get approval to cancel the rest of my national service leaving me free to enlist in the regular army. So that's what I've done. I'm back in Vietnam. There are some military training staff and Australian diplomatic staff staying here for the time being. The Australian Embassy in Saigon needed an all-rounder, someone who could perform some guard duties, knows how to fix stuff and speaks some of the local language. That's me! Who would have thought I had a knack for languages? I picked Vietnamese up pretty quickly – you'd be proud.

Tess, I don't know what the future holds but I do know that I wish you every good thing under the sun. I still have the photo you sent over two years ago. I look at your beautiful face every day. In my heart I'll always be with you – that's a promise.

Please remember me.

Charlie 'Fudge' McFudgen

Tess hurried along beach road towards Kim's Kitchen. Just when Tess thought she would find no more answers this letter promised to finally give her closure. Doris Lowman was serious about selling the building; three different real estate agencies had their _For Sale_ signs plastered all over it. Through the window Tess could see activity so she knocked loudly. Jimmy's father, Kevin, opened the door. Some tradesmen were inside disconnecting appliances and removing equipment.

"Oh, Miss Newell, if you're looking for Kim she's upstairs packing."

Tess climbed the stairs around the side of the building and walked through the open door to find packing cases scattered around the house. Kim was taking pictures off the wall.

"We have to move," said Kim sadly. "It's no use trying to start again here."

"Kim, where will you go?"

"Back to Melbourne. We have friends there and Kevin has family. We'll find something."

"I'm sorry," Tess apologised, "but can I ask you a question?"

"A question? Sure. Sit down."

Tess sat on the edge of the couch and leaned intently towards Kim.

"The Australian soldier, Cameron wasn't it? Your mother's friend at the embassy. Do you remember if he ever spoke about a soldier named Charles McFudgen, or even someone they called Fudge."

Kim frowned and shook her head. "Oh no, our friend's name was Cam, but it wasn't short for Cameron. You see, the first time cousin Van and I saw him we were spying on my mother. We knew she had a new friend, an Australian soldier, but she was shy about introducing us. So we followed her to the markets. We saw them holding hands. He was tall with orange hair and a sunburned face. Van laughed and said that said his head looked like a big _cam_ , that's Vietnamese for _orange_. I was young. I don't remember his real name."

Kim smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, it was a long time ago. Please give me a moment." Tess watched as Kim folded her hands on her lap and closed her eyes as if trying to see into the past. Her breathing was deep and even. Kim would frown slightly at times and then smile. Tess watched her, intrigued. _After all she has been through, how could this woman still be so beautiful, so serene_? A few minutes later Kim opened her eyes.

"His real name was Charlie. But we couldn't call him that. It was the name that our soldiers called the North Vietnamese soldiers. We were worried that if we called out one day, _'There's Charlie'_ , our soldiers would shoot him by mistake. So to be safe we always just called him Cam. He thought it was so funny. We were silly children with big imaginations."

Tess sat back in the couch. It seemed to take a physical effort to control her thoughts and to take in what Kim was saying. _Is her Cam and my Charlie the same person? No, Charles was a common name, it was almost definitely someone else. There could easily have been another red-haired soldier of the same name working with the Australian Embassy ... couldn't there?_

Kim herself could see the coincidence but had no real reason to look further for any possible connections in their stories. But Tess had one more question.

"Kim, why did you move to Clowder Bay? It's a long way from Melbourne. Why here?"

"Oh, that's simple." Kim stood and walked over to the bookshelf. She took down a photo album and thoughtfully turned the pages. "Here," she said, carefully removing an old, creased photo from the album and handing it to Tess. "When I reached the refugee centre in Hong Kong they asked me where I wanted to be sent for resettlement. I only knew Vietnam. I didn't know the world outside. All I had was my photo of Sunshine and Laughter that had kept me alive. They passed it around and an Australian aid worker said she knew where it was. They placed me in the care of a family that was being sent to Australia and a few weeks later I landed in Melbourne. I was finally safe. I put the photo away and said to myself, _One day, when I grow up, I will go there. I will find Cam and, without anger, I will ask him why he didn't come back for us, why he didn't save my mother like he promised..._ "

Tess looked at the photo. Her own forty-year-younger face smiled back at her. She turned it over and read her own writing: _All your friends in Clowder Bay send their love, especially me._

As Tess sat there crying Kim finally began to realise the importance of everything she had shared. It wasn't just her story. It was part of Tess's as well.

"That's you, isn't it? I knew when I first saw you that night _..."_ She couldn't go on.

"He didn't abandon you, Kim," Tess sobbed. "He died trying to get back to you."

Kim sat beside Tess and they held each other as they wept. Kim looked over to the white statue in the corner. " _Your suffering is my suffering_ ," she said softly, " _and your happiness is my happiness_."

Eventually Kim composed herself and disappeared into the kitchen to soon return with tea and a small tray of fudge of various colours.

"He must have loved your mother," Tess said. "Otherwise he wouldn't have tried to get back to her and to you. It's just so shameful that the government promised to help the people who worked for them but then just left them to face the wrath of the North Vietnamese."

Tess sipped her tea and took a cube of orange fudge. _How appropriate_ , she smiled to herself.

Tess looked around at the packing cartons on the floor.

"Kim, I'd like to help you."

"Oh, we can manage the packing. Some of the restaurant staff have already offered."

"No, Kim. I'd like to help save your business. Or rather, Cam and I would like to help."

"But your daughter already told me that you ... what did she say? You are on a teacher's salary."

Tess smiled and took her friend's hand. "Kim, that was yesterday."

CHAPTER 28

Eddie Butler felt stuck in his council job, stuck and underappreciated. In fact so stuck and underappreciated that he had even responded to an advertisement in the newspaper where ASIO, Australia's spy agency, was looking for new recruits. His application was rejected. But he still thought he had the necessary skills. So when his friend Dep Chandra phoned and asked for a special favour, one that he had to keep absolutely secret, Eddie jumped at the chance.

At first Eddie was disappointed when Dep said that he wouldn't have to sneak around the building at night, breaking into offices and photographing secret documents. However, he did enjoy working on his computer and relished the chance to do a little forensic database searching.

Eddie, it turned out, was a very good investigator and it only took him a couple of hours to uncover some information that he knew Dep would find very helpful. Looking at a scanned version of one particular document he couldn't help think how atrocious was the original handwriting. _Almost indecipherable. How could this person hold down such an important position. And look what it has resulted in._ Then he noticed that the document had been signed, in a very awkward fashion, by Joan Butler, his favourite aunty, who had worked in the council years earlier. _Oh well, anyone can make a mistake_.

At the hospital Mia still lay in an unconscious state. Her vital signs were good and the swelling that was causing the pressure on her brain was slowly lessening. The scans showed some bruising but no lasting damage. The doctor still assured them that she would wake up soon although he now declined to attach a number of hours or days to his prognosis.

"Initially the unconsciousness may have been compounded by the pills but now it's mainly from the impact with the road. I can't say how long," he finally conceded. "Just keep holding her hand and talking to her."

And Alison was doing just that when Jimmy appeared at the door.

"Would you like a break, Mrs Turner?"

"Hi, thanks, Jimmy. I'll stretch my legs." Alison stood to leave. "Jimmy, if you feel comfortable with it I'd like you to call me Alison."

"Oh, okay. I'll try."

"And, Jimmy, you have to hold Mia's hand."

"Pardon?"

"Doctor's orders I'm afraid. The things we have to do!" Alison smiled and left the room.

Jimmy sat in the chair Alison had just vacated.

"Um... hi, Mia. I um, just dropped by to see how you were going. So, how are you going? What's happening in there? Look, don't get a fright or anything but I have to hold your hand. Doctor's orders. I hope you don't mind."

As Jimmy took Mia's hand he watched the cardiac monitor wondering if, just like in a movie, the fair damsel's heart rate might jump as the brave hero caressed her soft, pale skin. _Nothing._

"There's a lot happening out here. My mum is really excited because your grandma has some sort of plan to help us stay in Clowder Bay."

Jimmy looked around the room. "Those flowers are nice." He shifted uneasily in his seat. "Actually, I really want to say thank you. I haven't even known you for two weeks and you've changed my life. I've got my best mate back for a start." Jimmy wiped his forehead. "Gee, I think someone's turned the heat up in here." He clenched his free hand into a fist and shook it in the way a tennis player might when trying to encourage himself to greater things.

"Mia, I want to tell you something." Jimmy looked towards the door then lowered his voice. "I think I ... I think I ..." Jimmy took a deep breath. "Mia, you're amazing and I really like you." Jimmy dropped her hand and sat back in the chair exhausted.

He was still like that when Tess walked in.

"You look worn out, Jimmy. Has Mia been giving you grief."

"Yeah, she hasn't let up. So annoying." Jimmy stood up. "Ms Newell, thanks for what you're trying to do for mum and dad, whatever it is."

"It's my pleasure, Jimmy. Let's just hope it all works out as planned."

"I haven't seen them this happy for ages."

There was a quiet knock on the door. Jimmy and Tess were both surprised to look up and see Savannah Lowman entering the room.

Tess immediately suspected an undesirable motive and protectively moved between her and Mia.

Savannah stopped. "I'm sorry. I understand what you must think but I've really just come to talk with Jimmy, and Mia." She looked at the sceptical expressions on both faces. "Look, I'm not here to cause trouble." Savannah looked at Tess. "You can stay if you don't trust me."

Jimmy gave Tess her a reassuring nod.

"I'll just be outside in the corridor." Tess left the room and Jimmy sat back down. Savannah stayed standing.

"Jimmy, I know I'm not a nice person at times. Well, most of the time, it turns out. I think if I've learned anything recently it's that you'll tell me the truth when others won't, even if I don't want to hear it." Jimmy still looked sceptical, unsure where this was headed or how it would turn out. Savannah continued. "What Mitch said at the police station, you know, about me not having real friends, do you think he was right?"

_You already know the answer to that,_ Jimmy thought. Jimmy knew Savannah well enough to know that she walked a fine line between nice and nasty, and she could flip from one to the other in a blink. He looked at Mia lying on the bed. _If Mia is taking any of this in, the last thing she needs is to hear Savannah going berserk._

"Savannah, do you think Mitch was right?"

Savannah shrugged her shoulders. "I guess he was." She sat on the second chair on the opposite side of the bed and stared at the floor. "I don't know if I can change, Jimmy. But I'd like to think I can. I saw a glimpse of myself as an adult the other day. My mother was talking to the policeman after the meeting ... no, she wasn't talking to him, she was bullying him. And I started to think about her friends and I realised that she really doesn't have any. There are people who want to be seen with her because she's wealthy and she used be the mayor. She gets invited to dinner parties and official functions around the place but I can't think of one person who she would just call up on the phone and chat to about little things, like the weather, or their children, or how she's coping after she and dad split up. It's just like Mitch said. She's surrounded by people who are afraid of the consequences of not being her friends. I don't want that to be me."

Savannah stood and looked at Mia. "Well, I can see you're busy. I'd better go."

"I'll see you later," Jimmy said and Savannah gave him a smile that he hadn't seen for a long time.

CHAPTER 29

_Friday July 12_ th

Dep Chandra closed his office door and sat behind his desk. "Well, this is complicated but I'll try to explain it as simply as I can."

"We like simple," nodded Tess, "don't we, Ali?"

Dep began...

8pm Monday April 4th 1966 – Pacific Coast Council Chambers, Clowder Bay

Councillor Samuel Rubin rose to his feet. "Gentlemen, you would be aware that last month the Federal Government announced that National Servicemen would be sent to war in Vietnam." A low murmur filled the room as fellow councillors shared with those around them their various opinions about the decision.

"Regardless of our personal agreement or disagreement with our distinguished federal members, I believe that it behoves us, the elected councillors of this community, to show united support for our young men who are sent off to fight and very possibly die in this war."

"What exactly are you proposing, Councillor?" asked Mayor Johnson.

Sam Rubin continued. "Pacific Coast families have already had three young men called up to National Service and there may well be more. In some cases these brave fellows are the breadwinners, the providers for their families. In their absence their loved ones may well struggle to pay their bills and even to put a meal on the table."

"The council is not here to buy groceries!" came an objection.

"I understand that. What I am proposing is that Council suspends all Local Government charges on properties belonging to men who have been conscripted to serve overseas. I further move that this suspension of council charges remain in effect until the serviceman's deployment ends or until a period of six years has elapsed."

The Mayor rose and raised his hand to settle the animated discussion that Councillor Rubin had initiated. "Gentlemen, as I understand it, the Councillor is suggesting that as a show of support for our National Servicemen, of which we hope there are very few, we waive all council property charges until they return or for up to a maximum period of six years."

"That's correct," nodded Sam Rubin.

Councillor George McFudgen raised his hand and the mayor nodded to him. The chamber fell quiet. McFudgen was known as man of action who rarely spoke. And when he did it was from the heart, the heart that at times grew unbearably tight and caused him such pain.

"I would like to speak in support of Sam's motion. Fellow councillors, at sixteen my boy is not yet of the age where he might be ordered by his country to serve in the armed services. But one day he will be, his number might come up and, if it does, he will be sent to war by a government that he is not even old enough to vote for. He may find himself in a trench in a country many here had probably not heard of until a few years ago, fighting a battle that was not of our making. And he may be just one of thousands called to do their duty and put their lives on the line. It would be a great shame if they were to return to an ungrateful community and to debts that they are unable to meet." He looked around the room.

"What are we? Me, a mechanic. Bob, an accountant. Joe, a grocer. Marcus, a lawyer."

George McFudgen made his way around the chamber making particular reference to those naysayers he felt sure would not support the motion. "None of us has seen war but there is one thing we all know for certain ... it's the stuff of nightmares. Let's give our boys the support they need."

Then he sat back and listened as comments and questions flew around the room.

"Have you calculated the cost?"

"Wonderful idea, Sam!"

"What if we have a dozen men called up? What if we have a hundred?"

"We are not a charity!"

"Well said, George!"

"Is it in the budget? What about the budget!"

Forty minutes later the Mayor again rose to his feet. "Gentlemen, you've asked your questions and you've heard the answers. It's time we put it to the vote. All those in favour raise your hands.

"The motion is passed unanimously," he announced.

At the end of the meeting, the Minutes Secretary, Joan Butler, signed off at the bottom of the page. It was unfortunate that she had suffered a fracture to her right hand, which was her preferred writing hand, and it was heavily bandaged. She had unsuccessfully attempted to find a replacement to attend the meeting to take down the minutes. So Joan soldiered on, as Joan always did. Clearly one-handed typing was out of the question and long-hand writing with her left hand would be too slow and laborious. So Joan, with as much care as she could, and with the pen in her left hand, painstakingly noted every motion, decision and action arising from the meeting in Pitman's shorthand, a skill she proudly still possessed but rarely used.

As the councillors stood around congratulating themselves on another successful meeting, Joan made her way from the chambers into the Mayor's outer office. She left the minutes in the in-tray of one of the junior clerks who would render a nicely-typed version and pass copies on to the relevant departments for action.

Unfortunately, although a competent typist, the junior clerk was only vaguely familiar with shorthand and had to keep referring to a dusty manual she found in a storeroom. Ultimately her lack of familiarity with Pitman's system, compounded by the Joan's struggle to correctly form the symbols with her left hand, meant that a significant portion of the clerk's transcription was the result of guesswork, and possibly some plain old laziness.

Dep Chandra referred to his notes and roughly drew two symbols on a scrap of paper.

"The first one," he explained, "is shorthand for the numeral _six_ , which is what the secretary was supposed to write. The second is shorthand for sixty."

Dep then showed them a copy of the original shorthand minutes scribed by Joan Butler. He pointed to a symbol.

"That is what she actually did write and obviously, when the notes were typed up following the meeting, it was misinterpreted. And that, I believe, is how the council's decision to support the National Servicemen for _six_ years became _sixty_.

"That mistake," continued Dep, "went unchallenged until five years ago when a university student approached the Council with a request for access to its historical records. She was researching the impact of war at a local government level. Council granted her access to the minutes and associated records of all meetings held during the time of both world wars and the Vietnam War. She was obviously a very thorough researcher because she noticed the discrepancy between the written version and the final typed version."

"So what does all that mean for the property?" asked Alison.

"It means that your mother owes no rates or taxes on the properties. You're lucky because it could have amounted to hundreds of thousands. However, once the council realised the mistake they took action. But as Charlie had not left a will and the council was unable to locate any family, they assumed ownership. That's why the industrial land near the state forest and the housing land down past the post office has all been sold off and developed. So, Tess, you don't own the large amount of property that we initially thought. However, in selling it, the council made a fortune. Our solicitor should be able to show that the money they made is rightfully yours."

"The money is not the important thing," said Tess. "What about the post office itself? I don't want to see that destroyed."

Dep Chandra continued. "This is where it moves from being interesting to intriguing. When Council claimed control of the post office, the mayor was, guess who? Mrs Doris Lowman. In a council meeting a vote was held to take the building off the Heritage Register. The councillors vote was four in favour of de-registration and four against. The Mayor then used her casting vote to pass the motion for de-registration."

"Why would they do that, de-register that beautiful building?"

"Well, one word answers that: bribery. You see three of those who voted for de-registration have accounts with this bank. I've looked at their records. A week before the vote, two of the accounts each shows a cash deposit of twenty-thousand dollars."

"Oh, so you think someone paid them to vote that way. Who?"

"Wait for it. The third account belongs to DL Investments. That account shows a cash withdrawal of eighty-thousand dollars."

"Who is DL Investments?" Tess and Alison asked at the same time.

As if to emphasise the gravity of his discovery Dep lowered his head and peered over his reading glasses. "DL Investments is a company owned by ex-Mayor Doris Lowman. The other councillors that voted for de-registration don't bank with PCCB but I'll bet my softail that their accounts show similar deposits."

"It's almost too much to take," said Tess. "Doris Lowman paid the councillors to vote for de-registration." She shook her head. "I knew as soon as I met her that she and I would never be friends, but I never thought for a moment she was a snollygoster."

"Well, whatever she is, I've already sent this information to the proper authorities. There is enough evidence here to cause all those involved considerable heart burn. But the wheels of justice turn slowly. It will take time."

"Well, what do we do now?" asked Alison. "We can't just let that auction go ahead. Even if she doesn't win, somebody will."

"I agree," Dep nodded, "and that's what our solicitor is working on. I'm meeting with him in the morning. Tomorrow is our last chance to stop it."

A light afternoon shower of rain was tapping against the window as Alison sat on the chair with her head resting on the bed. She had already retold Mia the events of the past few days including the revelations from the meeting with Dep Chandra earlier that day. Now she was telling her how much she loved her, how much she missed her voice and her cheekiness and how, when she eventually woke up, she could have anything she wanted. She stroked Mia's hand.

"Anything?"

Alison jerked her head up from the bed. Mia smiled weakly.

CHAPTER 30

_Saturday July 13_ th

The auction was underway when Tess's car throbbed past the assembled crowd and screeched to a halt just past the beautiful home where she had grown up. About fifty people had gathered, mostly curious onlookers, Tess guessed. The Mayor was there rubbing his hands in eager anticipation of the final sale price. At the very least the councillors would get a pay rise, not as much as his own, of course, but enough to keep them off his back for a year or two. He was also looking forward to silencing those who constantly criticized him for wasting rate payers' money on unnecessary refurbishment to council offices and space-age public toilets in parks that nobody goes to. Yes, the sale of this property would go a long way to getting the budget into the black and people off his case. He had his suspicions about the manner in which this beautiful building had come to be taken off the Heritage List but he was not a man to stir the waters. The past was the past. As the current Mayor he was paid to deal the present and to plan for the future. Or so he told himself.

A photographer from the Chronicle was ready to snap the Mayor shaking hands with the winning bidder. And two serious contenders had very quickly identified themselves.

Tess had with her the document that Dep Chandra had faxed through to the hotel barely ten minutes earlier. He had only just received it from the solicitor who had been on the phone most of the night and early that morning putting the facts to a Supreme Court judge.

"One million six," shouted the auctioneer. "I have one million six. Thank you, Mr Abrahams."

Jed Abrahams was almost salivating at the prospect of building his three-level, six-bedroom, four-bathroom mansion on this very spot.

"Do I hear one million eight. One million eight for the last absolute beachfront property along the coast for a hundred kilometres at least. The site already has development approval from the council. The machinery is ready to go. Do I have one million eight?"

Doris Lowman raised her finger. The crowd gasped.

"Thank you, Mrs Lowman."

Doris Lowman was determined that her ten-storey luxury apartment block, complete with swimming pool, roof top sauna, spa, gymnasium and restaurant would attract buyers from around the country. Her financial return would be ten, maybe fifteen times what she had to outlay. And she would, of course, be keeping the penthouse for herself.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer called excitedly, "there are three things that matter when looking for a property. Position, position and ..." He raised his hands in feigned exasperation. "I can never think of the third one!"

"Position!" shouted a few in the crowd responding to his display of showmanship.

"Yes, that's right and the old post office has them all. Do I have two million? Two million for this unique property?"

Jed Abrahams looked at his wife who gave a resigned sigh and shook her head.

"It's a beautiful day and it looks like we all just want to go and lie on the beach. I have a bid of one million eight hundred thousand dollars from Mrs Doris Lowman. Going once... going twice ..."

"Nothing!" Tess shouted as she panted her way through the crowd.

Every eye turned to the intruder.

"I'm sorry, madam, you can't bid nothing."

"Ignore the crazy lady," called Doris Lowman. "Get on with it!"

"Not crazy, Mrs Lowman, but I do get a little cranky with obnoxious people like you at times. And," Tess continued, "I most certainly can bid nothing, especially on a building that I already own."

The pressman's camera flashed as a confused muttering rippled through the assembly. Tess stepped forward and handed the auctioneer her document. He perused it carefully.

The auctioneer's disappointment was palpable. In his mind he had already spent what would have been the biggest commission of his life. The Bahamas would have to wait. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced after a minute, "it seems that the Supreme Court has granted an injunction preventing the sale of this property pending an investigation into the circumstances by which it has come on to the market. With our apologies, this auction is suspended indefinitely."

Doris Lowman turned angrily to Tess. "I don't know what trick you're trying to pull, lady, but this building will be mine," she snarled, "and I'll be looking down on you from up there..." She pointed to the sky.

"Gracious me, you're not dying are you?"

"From the penthouse, you idiot! And it's not a matter of _if_ , it's just a matter of _when_."

"Well, dear, the higher you are, the further you fall. And that's not a matter of _if_ , either."

Doris Lowman hissed something else unpleasant, and, Tess assumed, unflattering before turning on her stilettos and storming off.

The photographer had enough material to fill the first three pages of the next day's paper.

_Monday July 15_ th

Mia returned from the shop with milk and a paper under one arm and a kitten under the other.

"Sorry, everyone, the shop was out of ham, but they were doing a good deal on cat. I'll make some sandwiches."

"I think I'll stick with Vegemite," came Alison's voice from the balcony.

"Same for me," called Tess.

Mia put the kitten down on the balcony. "He was just sitting on the footpath outside the door downstairs. Look at his tag, Nan."

Tess read the tag around the kitten's neck. "Goodness me. Number 711." Tess stroked the kitten who responded by purring and rubbing itself against. "I thought I recognised you."

"Can I keep it, Mum?"

Alison looked dubious. "I don't know. I've never really liked cats."

"You did say I could have anything," Mia reminded her mother. "Besides, this cat is special. It ..." Mia lifted the kitten and looked underneath, "... he helped solve the mystery of Nan's promise key."

"Yes, he did, didn't he?" Alison reached out and took the kitten from Mia's arms. "In that case, welcome to the family, 711"

"How about Oscar?" suggested Mia.

"You can't call him that. If someone's finds him they take him to the refuge."

"Good thinking, Nan. In that case, welcome to the family... Ha'penny."

Alison and Mia laughed at the page two photos. The first showed Tess pushing her way through the crowd holding the court document in her hand and heading straight towards a surprised looking auctioneer. The second showed an angry Mrs Doris Lowman pointing to the sky with the Mayor in the background scratching his head. The headline read: _Clowder Bay old girl saves a piece of our history. Previous council faces inquiry._

"You're quite the local hero, Nan."

"Yes but I'm not sure about the _old girl_ bit. Although, looking at that photo ..." Tess spread her hands on her cheeks and pulled them back towards her ears."

"Mum, do you know what day it is?" asked Mia with sudden alarm.

"Yes, it's Monday."

"Not only that, but it's the first day of school. So, are we just extending our holiday, or does this mean we might be staying?"

"Would you like to stay?"

Mia took a bite of her toast and looked out over the beach and ocean. She asked herself the question. _Do I really want to change schools? I haven't had the best start with the kids I've met so far, except Jimmy. And he might be moving to Melbourne._

"You never know," Tess reassured her, "Jimmy's parents might find a way to stay. Besides, I actually think you and Mitch could end up good friends."

"And I believe the school library is very large and well-stocked," Alison added.

Mia raised an eyebrow and looked at her mother and grandmother.

_What about my athletics,_ she thought _. I really like my coach. He's actually one of the few teachers at her school I do like. He's interested in what he does and knows what he's talking about._

"I heard that their Director of Sports is an ex-Olympian. A runner," said Alison.

Mia leaned her head backwards and looked up. "What, do I have a thought bubble floating over my head?"

Alison and Tess laughed. "No, darling, but we have known you all your life. What do you think?"

Mia looked at her mother. "Would Peter live here?"

"Peter has a lot of healing time ahead. He says his counsellor is really helping a lot."

"The one we always see in the background when they try to interview him? She's so beautiful."

"Maybe just a little bit too beautiful," Tess added with a touch of disapproval.

Alison gave Tess a dismissive wave. "Mum, don't be silly. You're always seeing things that aren't there."

"Oh, am I indeed? Like axe-murderers."

"Anyway," interrupted Mia, "would he live here?"

"Who, the axe-murderer?" asked Tess.

"Nan, you're not helping!"

"Of course he would," Alison smiled. "I wouldn't even be considering it if he didn't."

"But what about your jobs? I know that you've just inherited quite a bit of money, Nan, but how long will that last?"

"Well, one thing I'm not going to do is let it all sit in the bank until I die. I'll have you two sitting by my deathbed counting down the seconds."

"Nan, we would never want ..."

"I'm only joking. Your mother and I have a few things we'd like to do and I'm sure you'll approve."

Mia couldn't think of any more questions.

Jimmy's father was unloading cartons from his van when Doris Lowman's BMW skidded to a stop in front of the restaurant and she hurriedly climbed out.

"Excuse me," she said loudly and angrily, "You were supposed to be out of this building by now. Do you think anyone would buy this place if it smells like an Asian soup kitchen."

"Oh, Asian soup!" declared Kevin Trang, "With ginger and chicken. Stop it, Mrs Lowman, you're making me hungry!" Mr Trang continued unloading the truck.

"I said stop, you fool."

Kevin Trang placed a large carton at the door and took a set of keys from his pocket.

"What are you doing with those keys? You were told to hand them to the estate agent last week."

"Yes, and I did just that. And this morning he handed them back to me. He is a very agreeable man. He eats here often."

"What the devil are you talking about, you imbecile. Give me those keys! This is my building and I've ordered you out."

Kevin Trang opened the restaurant door. He picked up a carton and made to move inside but Doris Lowman blocked his way. He shook his head.

"Mrs Lowman, you don't seem to understand. You wanted to sell this building and now you have. You left a signed contract with the estate agent with an instruction to accept the first offer that matched the amount you wanted. So, this building is no longer yours."

"Well, I don't know what the new owner was thinking, letting you people back in. They must be mad."

"Actually," Mr Trang lowered his voice and looked around as though he were about to reveal a secret, "Kim does get a bit crazy at times, but I still love her. Now, unless you want to help carry some of these boxes back in, I'd like you to leave."

Doris Lowman's eyes tightened. "I won't be made a fool of like this. I'll have my lawyer cancel the contract."

"You might like to try that, Mrs Lowman, but my wife's new business partner is Tess Newell and it appears that she has what you would call a very deep purse."

Kevin Trang noticed the police car pull up. Constable Ben Leeson stepped out along with a serious-faced woman and an equally solemn-looking young man.

"Besides," he added, "I suspect your lawyer is about to become very busy with other things."

Doris Lowman swung around to see the police officer and his companions approaching her. Ben Leeson politely tipped his cap. "Mrs Lowman, these people would like to talk with you."

Before she could object the two strangers had reached into their pockets and were showing their ID cards.

"Mrs Lowman, we're from the Crime and Corruption Commission and we're just making some preliminary inquiries in to matters that occurred during your time as Mayor. Would you accompany us to the police station, please?"

Kevin Trang allowed himself a satisfied smile as he lifted the last carton out of the rear of the van. Climbing back into her car, Doris Lowman was on the phone to her solicitor. "Meet me at the police station in ten minutes... Sick! What do I care if you're sick? Just do what I pay you to do."

"Excuse me, mate." Kevin turned to see a tall, good-looking man approaching him. He had a slight limp and lightly supported himself with a walking stick. A very attractive woman in military uniform accompanied him. "We're a bit lost. Can you tell me where the Seaview Apartments are?"

"Sure." Kevin pointed south along Beach Road. "Just in the next block. About three doors from the corner."

"Thanks, mate. You're a champion." Kevin's brain worked hard as he stared after the couple who walked off in the direction he had pointed. Suddenly he called out.

"Hey!"

They looked around. Kevin gave the thumbs up. "You're the champion, mate. Welcome home."

The banquet that Kim and Kevin laid out for their guests that night was fit for royalty. Peter and Alison clung to each other as if they were afraid the other would disappear if let go. When he wasn't telling Alison how much he loved her he was telling people what a brilliant counsellor his twin sister was and how the progress he had made so far was entirely attributable to her.

Tess leaned across to Mia. "You knew, didn't you? About the sister thing?"

"Of course I did, Nan. But mum and I thought it was fun listening to you go on."

"Well, like I always say, some things..."

Mia looked at Mitch and Jimmy and rolled her eyes. "Here, Nan, have some more green tea."

It wasn't a night for speeches but Shorty Reynolds couldn't help standing and welcoming Mia and Alison as Clowder Bay's newest residents. He put his hand on Peter's shoulder and said what a privilege it was to have a genuine hero in town.

"In conclusion," he said, "I'd especially like to welcome back a lady who, as a teenager, had a smile that could have powered every street light on Beach Road. She attracted the attention of every young man in town. And now, more than forty years later," Shorty cleared his throat nervously and patted himself on the chest, "there is a least one man who remains very much under her spell."

CHAPTER 31

Saturday September 28th

Jimmy's jaw dropped as he looked at Mia.

"Yes, I know." Mia looked uncomfortable and self-conscious. "When I told them I hoped it would be a beach wedding, I didn't figure on being the bridesmaid."

"No, you look amazing."

"Thanks, Jimmy." Mia fiddled with the key that dangled from a gold chain bracelet. "You've scrubbed up pretty well yourself."

"Well, as the usher, I'm pretty much in charge of the whole wedding," he grinned. Jimmy made lines in the sand with the point of his shoe. "Mia, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Ask me anything, Jimmy."

"When you were in hospital, you know, unconscious, did you hear any of what people were saying to you?"

"Yes, I think so, although I'm not sure if I was actually hearing it or if I might have been dreaming it. I remember mum telling me about my grandfather leaving Nan the property. Nan said some unrepeatable things about Savannah's mother."

"Anything else?"

"I was aware of Savannah talking but I don't remember what she was saying. Speaking of Savannah, have you heard how she's going?"

"She's moved in with her father while her mother is dealing with all this legal stuff. She's happy at her new school. Do you remember anything else?"

"Oh no, that's about it," Mia shrugged.

They walked a little way along the beach.

"Actually, Jimmy," Mia smiled, "I think I... I think I ... you, too."

Jimmy stopped. "You did hear!"

"What? I don't know what you're talking about," Mia replied innocently.

"Come on, you guys," shouted Mitch. "People are starting to arrive."

Peter smiled broadly and his father, General Thomas Katz (Retired), continued the poem as Alison and Mia walked slowly towards them on the sand.

"... _My friend is worth ten shillings, sir,_

What give you in his stead?

What any man most deeply yearns,

Love's promise kept, he said.

Then gazed I through the waters deep

And deeply felt I blest

As my older, whiskered self

Reached up and touched my chest

In truth, did say my ag'ed self,

Your heart is cold to core

But water holds no warmth so look

Instead to distant shore

I did as bid and there behold

My long lost love stood there

In silver gown and golden bows

A rose adorned her hair."

The morning wedding was only one half of a big day in Clowder Bay. At midday the town's attention moved to the old post office and the opening of _Fudge's Old Post Office Cafe_ , boasting _the best coffee on the Pacific Coast_.

"He kept his promise, Mum. He's still with you," smiled Alison looking proudly at the café's name spread across the window glass in bold, bright orange letters.

"I don't need a big sign to remind me of that, Ali. I just have to look at you."

An eclectic and appreciative gathering of friends, locals, VIPs and media was in attendance. Reporters clamoured for interviews with Peter, each looking for an insight into the minds and lives of the terrorists that had kept him captive for so long. For the most part he answered hesitantly and carefully but one question brought a tear to Peter's eye: _How did you survive?_

Peter paused and looked at Alison. "I made a promise," he said.

Once the flashing horde of photographers and journalists had enough snaps of their favourite war hero and his bride most of them filed up the stairs and into what used be Tess's and her father's apartment. They filled most of the top floor, spilling out onto the veranda, and tucked into free food and drinks. Some, showing a particular interest in Peter's sister, stayed outside. However, after revealing that her husband was a commando in the elite SAS regiment, the bulk of Sally's admirers discretely retreated to join their colleagues upstairs. Only one remained and for his persistence he was rewarded with some exclusive material for a feature on a week in the life of a military trauma counsellor.

The old post office was filled with patrons who were as impressed with the refurbishments and the décor as they were by the refreshments: the tea personally brewed by Tess, the cakes, slices and fudge made by Kevin Trang and the coffee, personally supervised by Alison. Even Rufus acknowledged that he would have to pick his act up if were to stay competitive.

Of particular interest were the café tables and a very proud father of the groom didn't miss an opportunity to point out to anyone who would listen that Peter had carefully crafted them from timber recycled from the building's interior. The top of each was a unique and intricate hand-painted rendering of a famous Australian postage stamp. The 1913 Roo stamp, the first to sport the nomenclature _Australia_ , the 1927 stamp marking the opening of the first Parliament House in Canberra and the first Christmas stamp of 1957 were standout favourites.

Later that night the family sat on the balcony of Tess's new home. They had been watching the moon's reflection waltzing with the waves as they rolled into the bay and crashed rhythmically onto the beach. At the same time storm clouds had been slowly moving in from the east and now the rain fell heavily.

The flight from New Zealand and the excitement of the day had seen Peter's parents off to bed early. Alison rested her head on Peter's shoulder. Mia and Sally shared a light shawl and sipped hot tea from a china cups. Tess nibbled on the last of Kevin Trang's delicious lamingtons as a purring Ha'penny slept on her lap.

"It's been an amazing few months," Alison sighed.

"It would make a wonderful story," said Sally.

"You should write it, Nan."

"Good idea," agreed Peter. "We can all contribute. But where would it start?"

Sally reached over and ran her fingers down the kitten's back. "I think with this little fella's great-great-great-great grandparents. Plus a few more greats."

A flash of lightning lit the bay. Flakes of white Coconut from Tess's lamington snowed down on ha'penny's fur speckling his small brown patch.

Tess smiled as the words crept into her head... _The storm continued to rage as the heavy turbines of the SS Halfpenny gradually wound down to a dull drone..._

THE END

I hope you have enjoyed reading "The Tillerman's Gift".

You might also like The Kadaitcha Curse", available through Smashwords

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/362383

_If you would like to make a comment or provide feedback on your reading experience please contact me at:_ funpoems4kids@gmail.com

Young readers might enjoy my FunPoems4Kids blog at: www.funpoems4kids.wordpress.com
