I had a lot of apologising to do. To Matt, for one. It wasn’t as hard as I thought given that I had been so completely and utterly and devastatingly wrong about everything. Matt was a gentleman about it, pretending it was nothing at all, which only made me like him more.
After Dylan’s funeral, Matt and I went up to the waterhole to say a kind of goodbye. His fingers searched out mine and we stood on the rock ledge for a moment. I released a breath I reckon I’d been holding since I’d walked away from him that day in the rain. ‘I think Mum knew all along. It’s like she understood that finding Dylan would help me to fix things.’
‘Seems like it,’ Matt said. ‘Dylan never did belong in that water with all the other souls.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I guess he didn’t.’
Afterwards, I asked Kevin if he could live with someone like me, be the custodian of a person who could mistrust to such a destructive level. He said he could, which to me was the most generous thing anyone could have done for me.
Leanne insisted on cooking us Christmas dinner – a full roast turkey with all the trimmings despite the sweltering heat of mid-summer. Matt came over too, and even though it was one of the firsts I’d been dreading all year – the first Christmas without her – we ate too much and sweated and laughed and it wasn’t horrible at all.
There was an email sitting in my inbox; it had been there since the day before Christmas, but I hadn’t opened it. I waited until after dinner, when the washing up was done and Leanne and Kevin were slumped in front of some awful carols show, before I told Matt about it. We sat on the love seat on the veranda and I handed him my phone.
‘Can you read it for me? I’m too scared.’
He took the phone and read for a few seconds. Then he looked up at me and smiled.
Afterwards, Kevin offered to drive me to the city to meet Dave. ‘We can stay at my mum’s. You can drive the first part to Dawson.’
‘Really?’
‘That’s what a learner’s permit is for, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but the FJ? I broke the light.’
‘I’ve fixed it. She looks good as new.’
‘I’ll pay you for it.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Alright.’ I smiled at him and for the first time in a long time we had something we could say belonged to us. The Kevin and Sunny story.
The day we were to leave for the city to meet Dave, Kevin took me out to the shed. He slapped the L plates on and indicated to the driver’s seat. ‘Come on then, let’s see what you’ve got.’
I got in, ran my hand over the soft leather seat and placed my hands on the steering wheel. It felt scary, exciting. ‘Mum was a pretty crap driving instructor,’ I said as he got in beside me. ‘Don’t expect too much.’
‘Don’t go blaming her,’ he said. ‘Come on, start her up.’
I turned the key and the engine jumped to life. Kevin sat back looking pretty pleased with himself. ‘She’s going like a dream. Your mum would’ve been pretty happy.’
‘Yep. She would.’ I pressed the clutch and put the car into first. ‘I might make some mistakes,’ I said.
‘I know.’ He nodded. ‘We all make mistakes. But we should still try, right?’
I looked at him and smiled. ‘Yeah, we should definitely try.’
Thanks to Varuna, The Writer’s House, for the opportunity to develop this story through their Publisher Fellowship Program, and to Stephen Measday my enthusiastic and wise mentor.
Thanks also to Mollie Bell, the first reader and number one fan – a lot of this is your fault.
For all their positivity, cleverness and support, I must also thank the beautiful Writers Online ladies: Rosella, Robyn, Julie, Jo, Leigh, Susannah, Amber and Alison.
Heartfelt gratitude to my husband, Stephen, and my children James, Grace, Laura and Cate for believing that I could.
Special thanks to Karen, James, Laura, Sarina and Charlotte who read early drafts and encouraged me so kindly.
I am truly indebted to my UQP publishing team: Kristina, Kristy and Vanessa. They have my eternal admiration and respect for the incredible job they do making books. For her support of my book, a huge thank you to Pip Harry.
And thanks to Bruce and Fay Copland who gave me a childhood that is an endless source of inspiration.
First published 2018 by University of Queensland Press
PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia
uqp.com.au
Copyright © Fiona Bell 2018
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
This book is copyright. Except for private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.
Cover design by Lisa White
Cover photograph by Westend61/Getty Images
Author photograph by Alison Jones
Typeset in Bembo Std 11/15 pt by Post Pre-press Group, Brisbane
The University of Queensland Press is supported by the Queensland Government through Arts Queensland.
The University of Queensland Press is assisted by the Australian Government through the Australia Council, its arts funding and advisory body.
ISBN 978 0 7022 5999 9 (pbk)
ISBN 978 0 7022 6112 1 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7022 6113 8 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7022 6114 5 (kindle)
