face, and turned it in the right direction. “See, there.”
“It does look a bit familiar. What does that sign say?”
“It says the Valley View Motel. Vacna …” Ellen struggled with the word at first. “Vacancies. Restaurant and Bar. Function room available. What’s function?”
“Another word for a party.”
“Is that where Really-Great-Gran’s birthday party will be tonight?”
“I think so.” Anna gazed at the motel. Built in the 1970s, it was a perfect example of the architecture of the time: a series of building blocks, placed clunk-clunk-clunk beside one another on the hillside just north of Clare, the largest town in the Clare Valley. There were fifteen guest rooms, one row of seven facing another row of eight, with the extra room the linen store. Linking the two lines of rooms was the small bar, a tiny reception area, a medium-size restaurant and kitchen, and a large function room. Anna had always thought the motel would make the perfect setting for a retro drama series, right down to the brown carpets, white plastic bathrooms, nylon curtains, and orange bedspreads.
“Mum, come on.” Ellen was tugging at her arm. “We’re not going to park here, are we?”
“You’re sure you’re ready? Sure you want to go there?” Anna teased.
Ellen considered the question seriously. “I am feeling a little bit shy. I haven’t seen them for a long time, have I?”
Anna knew exactly how Ellen felt. She was nervous about seeing her sisters again, too, she realized. Three years on and she still felt caught in the middle—trying to make peace between Carrie and Bett, she’d managed beautifully to make things worse. “Nothing to be frightened of here, Ellie, I promise you. They’re your family, remember?”
Her cheery tone convinced Ellen, but it did nothing for herself. She wished she felt fresher, more ready for this. It had been only a two-hour flight from Sydney to Adelaide, and then the same length drive from the airport to here. She’d always liked the drive from Adelaide to Clare, too. The long straight highway through flat plains and wide yellow paddocks slowly giving way to the curving roads of the Valley, vineyards and tree-covered hills on either side. But she still felt drained. It must be the tension of coming home, she thought. Or the aftermath of emotion from that morning’s spat with Glenn. He’d made a point of being there to say good-bye to Ellen.
“You know I’ll cry myself to sleep every night while you’re away,” he’d said, as he picked the little girl up in a hug. He was so broad it took nothing out of him. Ellen could have been two, not seven.
“Me, too,” Ellen had giggled, as Glenn tickled her. She had thrown back her head, laughing, completely unself-conscious with him about her scar.
“And don’t forget to do me lots of drawings. And to breathe in lots of that country air.” He had done some mock deep breaths, making Ellen laugh even more. “And you won’t forget you’re my favorite daughter, will you?”
Ellen shook her head.
“And not only that,” Glenn continued. “But the best daughter in—”
“The whole wide world!” Ellen had finished it for him, as she always did.
Anna had received no such attention. She and Glenn had spoken quickly, coldly to each other. She’d been deliberately vague about how long they might be away, knowing it would annoy him. He had reminded her of the possibility he’d need to go to Singapore for business, if the office expansion ended up going ahead. She had pretended she had forgotten all about it, and enjoyed the little dart of annoyance she knew that had sent through him. How had it gotten so bad? she’d wondered, even as she said good-bye in her most carefree voice. Ellen hadn’t noticed a thing—she hoped. She had been too busy waving until her father was long out of sight.
Anna tried to block out those thoughts and smiled across at her daughter now. “Ready, sweetheart?”
“I’m ready,
“It does look a bit familiar. What does that sign say?”
“It says the Valley View Motel. Vacna …” Ellen struggled with the word at first. “Vacancies. Restaurant and Bar. Function room available. What’s function?”
“Another word for a party.”
“Is that where Really-Great-Gran’s birthday party will be tonight?”
“I think so.” Anna gazed at the motel. Built in the 1970s, it was a perfect example of the architecture of the time: a series of building blocks, placed clunk-clunk-clunk beside one another on the hillside just north of Clare, the largest town in the Clare Valley. There were fifteen guest rooms, one row of seven facing another row of eight, with the extra room the linen store. Linking the two lines of rooms was the small bar, a tiny reception area, a medium-size restaurant and kitchen, and a large function room. Anna had always thought the motel would make the perfect setting for a retro drama series, right down to the brown carpets, white plastic bathrooms, nylon curtains, and orange bedspreads.
“Mum, come on.” Ellen was tugging at her arm. “We’re not going to park here, are we?”
“You’re sure you’re ready? Sure you want to go there?” Anna teased.
Ellen considered the question seriously. “I am feeling a little bit shy. I haven’t seen them for a long time, have I?”
Anna knew exactly how Ellen felt. She was nervous about seeing her sisters again, too, she realized. Three years on and she still felt caught in the middle—trying to make peace between Carrie and Bett, she’d managed beautifully to make things worse. “Nothing to be frightened of here, Ellie, I promise you. They’re your family, remember?”
Her cheery tone convinced Ellen, but it did nothing for herself. She wished she felt fresher, more ready for this. It had been only a two-hour flight from Sydney to Adelaide, and then the same length drive from the airport to here. She’d always liked the drive from Adelaide to Clare, too. The long straight highway through flat plains and wide yellow paddocks slowly giving way to the curving roads of the Valley, vineyards and tree-covered hills on either side. But she still felt drained. It must be the tension of coming home, she thought. Or the aftermath of emotion from that morning’s spat with Glenn. He’d made a point of being there to say good-bye to Ellen.
“You know I’ll cry myself to sleep every night while you’re away,” he’d said, as he picked the little girl up in a hug. He was so broad it took nothing out of him. Ellen could have been two, not seven.
“Me, too,” Ellen had giggled, as Glenn tickled her. She had thrown back her head, laughing, completely unself-conscious with him about her scar.
“And don’t forget to do me lots of drawings. And to breathe in lots of that country air.” He had done some mock deep breaths, making Ellen laugh even more. “And you won’t forget you’re my favorite daughter, will you?”
Ellen shook her head.
“And not only that,” Glenn continued. “But the best daughter in—”
“The whole wide world!” Ellen had finished it for him, as she always did.
Anna had received no such attention. She and Glenn had spoken quickly, coldly to each other. She’d been deliberately vague about how long they might be away, knowing it would annoy him. He had reminded her of the possibility he’d need to go to Singapore for business, if the office expansion ended up going ahead. She had pretended she had forgotten all about it, and enjoyed the little dart of annoyance she knew that had sent through him. How had it gotten so bad? she’d wondered, even as she said good-bye in her most carefree voice. Ellen hadn’t noticed a thing—she hoped. She had been too busy waving until her father was long out of sight.
Anna tried to block out those thoughts and smiled across at her daughter now. “Ready, sweetheart?”
“I’m ready,
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