The Road Back by Di Morrissey Page A

laundry beside it replaced by a bathroom. All the old carpets in the house had been taken up and the solid wooden floorboards, which were made from magnificent local blackbutt timber, had been polished so they gleamed in the sunlight that filtered through several leadlight glass panels. The open fireplace in the living room still worked and was occasionally used in winter. Out the back of the house, the family could sit in privacy and admire Susan’s magnificent garden.
    Susan was in her late sixties, but she was slim and fit and had obviously looked after herself well. Her hair, cut fashionably short, was a warm brown, and its gold highlights set off her hazel eyes. Her skin had been cared for, and her smile wrinkles and subtle make-up gave her a youthful look. She was wearing her favoured outfit of linen pants and a light shirt. She stretched out her arms in greeting.
    Megan leaped out of the car and ran along the verandah, but before she reached her grandmother, a furry rocket streaked past her.
    â€˜Hi, Biddi.’ She scooped the tabby cat into her arms. ‘You remember me, you little darling. Hi, Bunny!’ She put the cat down and wrapped her arms around her grandmother, who hugged her tightly.
    Susan, or Bunny, as her family and friends called her, held her granddaughter at arm’s length and studied her.
    â€˜So, what’s the verdict, Bunny?’ Megan asked as she tilted her head to show her braided hair and dangling frog earrings, and waggled her orange fingernails with gold trim in front of her face.
    Susan looked her granddaughter up and down, her eyes twinkling. ‘A-plus for the hair and the outfit. You’re taller, lovely legs, but a B-minus for the nails. Orange isn’t my favourite colour.’
    Megan laughed. ‘Oh, it’s so great to be here. What’s new?’
    â€˜Nothing much changes here,’ said Susan. ‘Go help your dad.’ She watched her smiling son come along the verandah with an armful of bags as Biddi walked purposefully beside him. Megan took parcels and carry bags from her father, who put down the large suitcase he was carrying so that he could hug his mother.
    â€˜It’s so good to have you home. It’s been too long,’ she said, her words muffled in his hug.
    â€˜I missed you, Mum. It’s good to be here.’
    She pulled away to study her handsome son, touching the small flecks of grey at his temples. ‘You look tired.’
    â€˜Bit of a long drive. We’ll talk later. I’m ready for a cold beer, if you’ve got one,’ he said. ‘I can always walk down to the bottle shop if you haven’t.’
    Megan reappeared, empty-handed. ‘I’ve put my stuff inside. Are we going into town, Dad?’
    â€˜Let your dad have a rest first, Megan. Chris, there’s a six-pack in the fridge. Was there anything else you wanted?’
    â€˜No thanks, Mum.’
    â€˜Megan, how about you help your father finish unloading the car and we can wander into town later. There’s a new place that makes the best gelato. It’s absolutely delicious homemade Italian ice-cream. I thought you could choose a tub for dessert.’
    An hour later, the three of them walked the fifty metres or so from Susan’s house to the main street, although their progress to the gelato shop was slow as everyone seemed to want to stop and chat to Susan, welcome Chris home and be introduced to Megan.
    â€˜You know so many people, Bunny,’ said Megan as they strolled along the broad street.
    â€˜I’ve lived here even before your father was born. I worked in the Neverend High School for forty years, so I’ve taught generations of children in this area. It’s little wonder that I know nearly everyone. Now, Megs, what flavour do you think you’d like?’ Susan asked as they walked into the ice-cream shop.
    Chris looked around. He remembered the old milk bar that had been there for years, and