It was a small gum tree in a vast pot on wheels. ‘We pull it in and pull it out every year,’ Letty said while Meg said nothing. ‘This year’s the last for this tree; she’s getting too big. We’ll plant her out but there’s already a new one coming on to take her place.’
And that made him feel weird as well. The thought of such continuity. A long line of trees, each taking its turn as a Christmas tree before growing to be one of the huge gums that surrounded the farm. Fantastic. And sort of… grounded. Good.
The decorations were great as well, all home-made, some wonderful, some distinctly corny.
‘They date from the time Meg arrived here,’ Letty said proudly. ‘She made paper chains, her mum made the balls and lanterns, then Scotty came along and here’s his kindergarten things…’
‘Grandma…’ Scott said, revolted, and Letty chuckled and tossed him a gift.
It was a sweater. Home knitted. Scott made a truly manful effort to look pleased and the hug he gave his grandma was genuine. He put it on. Red and green stripes. Just the thing…
‘For winter,’ he said, and Letty beamed with pleasure.
Meg said, ‘But take it off before you faint in the heat.’
Scott threw his sister a look of such gratitude that William had trouble not to laugh out loud. As he did with so many of the gifts they were opening, small jokes, trivia, fun.
And then there was a gift in his hands. He stared down at the box-small, flat, red and tied with gold ribbon.
‘You’ve done enough for us,’ Meg said softly. ‘We can’t possibly repay you, but this is the least we can do.’
He opened the box, feeling disoriented, as if he’d been transported to another world. Inside was a certificate, folded neatly.
He read through, trying to make it out.
He’d been given…a part-time dog?
‘Scott and I found it on the Internet,’ Meg said as he looked up, astounded. ‘It’s an animal shelter in Manhattan, and it’s not far from where you live. This gives you visiting rights. More. What you do is adopt a dog whenever you’re in town. If you’re based in New York for three months, then you take a dog for three months. You can take her back to the shelter at night if you want, or you can keep her at home, or you can simply take her out for a run each day. Whatever you want. You give your time and the shelter takes over what you can’t provide. The only stipulation is that she’s still available for permanent adoption. This plan means the shelter can take far more dogs than they could otherwise care for, and they don’t have to put them down. But if someone wants to adopt one permanently, then you need to choose another.’
A part-time dog, he thought. Like Ned and Pip and Elinor. His part-time family. Good. Excellent.
So why did it make him feel empty?
Luckily, Scott was filling his silence. ‘The dog you’ve semi-adopted is Sheeba,’ he told William. ‘Her photograph’s in the bottom of the box. She’s part greyhound, part Dalmatian. I reckon she should be your first.’
‘Because every man needs a dog,’ Letty said solidly.
William glanced out towards the kitchen. The dogs weren’t permitted in the sitting room. There were five dogs squashed in the doorway, each nose managing to claim an inch of sitting room carpet.
Every man should have a dog. A part-time dog.
He watched as Meg opened yet another extraordinary knitted object and hugged Letty and giggled, and then watched as Scott and Letty were both ordered to open their gifts from Meg together, so they did, and they were bazooka-like machine guns loaded with foam balls. Christmas immediately became a running battle between grandmother and grandson. Who’d have thought Letty had been close to death yesterday, and who’d have ever thought of giving a grandmother a foam ball-shooter?
He looked at Meg and Meg was giggling like a kid-and he thought he was never going to see her again.
He started gathering wrapping paper, and then Letty remembered the turkey and Scott remembered flights.
‘Oh, whoops, sorry,’ he said, firing a foam ball at Killer, who caught it neatly in his mouth, bit it in two and then looked expectantly for more. ‘Killer!’
‘Sorry, what?’
‘Your flights.’ He looked to Meg, as if to confirm he was doing the right thing. ‘I checked while you were milking. If you really want to go…’
‘What have you found?’ Meg asked.
‘There’s a flight at nine tonight. You could catch the four o’clock train back to Melbourne and take the skybus to the airport. It all fits. Is that okay, Meg?’
‘He’s used to private cars,’ Meg said, not looking at William. ‘But it sounds okay.’ She rose and headed out to the kitchen after Letty, tossing her words over her shoulder. Still carefully not looking at him. ‘Is that okay with you, William? You can have Christmas dinner and we’ll drive you to the train.’
‘He’ll need extra weight allowance after Grandma’s pudding,’ Scott joked and Letty hooted from the kitchen, but William didn’t laugh.
He couldn’t see Meg any more. She was behind the kitchen door, but he was willing to bet she didn’t laugh either.
‘You don’t need to come to church,’ Meg said, but sitting back at the farmhouse without them seemed unthinkable. So he went and Meg orchestrated things so she sat with Letty and Scott between them. She was wearing another of her new dresses-lilac, simpler than yesterday’s, but just as pretty. Or more pretty. Or maybe it was that he was looking at her more often.
The service was lovely, a tiny community coming together in happiness, belting out beloved Christmas hymns with enthusiasm and as much tunefulness as they could muster. William could only stand for the first two hymns because, some time between the second and the third, Letty leaned against his shoulder and went to sleep. Meg saw why he wasn’t standing and she smiled at him, the smile he’d worked with for three years and hadn’t noticed, and he thought it was worth holding Letty to receive that smile.
Though, if he’d had a choice… He still would hold Letty, he thought, memories of yesterday’s terror flooding back. She was an indomitable old lady and he could see why Meg loved her.
So he sat while the rest of the congregation sang and there were approving looks from many, and curious looks from more, and he thought Meg was going to get the full inquisition after he left.
After he left…
Maybe he could stay a few days more. Make sure Letty was okay. Give Kerrie a few more days off milking.
Get closer to Meg?
She was sharing a song sheet with Scott, and her voice was true and pure. He could hear her through the rest of the congregation-he knew her voice.
He wouldn’t hear it again.
He shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t his place. If he got closer…
He’d hurt her. He didn’t know the first thing about family.
He’d go home to his part-time dog, his part-time Foster-Friends role, his full-time career.
What was he doing? Surely he wasn’t thinking he could stay here and milk cows for ever?
Maybe he could take Meg with him.
She wouldn’t go.
‘Collection,’ Scott hissed, and he looked at him in incomprehension.
‘Money,’ Scott said and grinned and William realised he was being handed the collection plate. Everyone in the pew was looking at him. They must have thought he was as sleepy as Letty.
Before he could react, Meg dropped a note into the plate and handed it back to the server. ‘He’s a bit tight,’ she said, in a make-believe whisper which carried through the church. ‘He hasn’t had any work since before Christmas, you know.’
He stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment and she grinned and then chuckled and Letty stirred against him and opened her eyes.
‘Have we sung
‘No,’ he said, confounded.
