Chapter 13

It was hot in Roma. About 30C [86F], I'd guess. Sarah started fussing almost immediately. Patrick unbuttoned his shirt. Weena took Sarah and the nappy bag and went off to change and re-dress her. I carried the rest of the carry-ons. I luckily snagged a cart at the baggage carousel, which made everything a lot easier. By the time they returned, I had our suitcases and everything else stacked.

"Why don't you stay in here with the junk and Patrick and I will go get the car?" I asked Weena.

So I snagged Pat's booster and we went to the rental agency. In 10 minutes we were back. Soon we were on the familiar road to Mitchell. Between the cooler air in the terminal and the car's motion Sarah calmed down. Patrick (semi-legally) sat on his booster, front left. He was looking around a lot.

"How old are Gramma and Gramps?" he asked.

"Your grandfather is 68, nearly 69, and my Mum is 64. They've been married for almost 45 years. Your Uncle David is 43." I thought giving him a lot of data was a good thing.

"What about Aunt Sandra?"

"She's a year or so older than I am. We don't talk about women's ages."

"Why?"

"Some women like to pretend that they're younger than they are."

"Why?"

"You ask your Mum when we get to the station."

"That means you don't want to talk about it."

"True." We settled into a ruminative silence. Weena hadn't said a word.

We were soon at the station. Mum seemed a bit greyer and somewhat worn. Dad was off somewhere, but would be back soon. I wasn't quite certain what to say, but Weena cut that Gordian knot.

"Are you quite okay?" she asked.

Mum smiled. "I'll never be any younger. And that experience sure took it out of me. I still get tired, and it's nearly two weeks."

Weena reverted to being a professional. "Was there any necrosis?"

"The doctor said less than he expected. It must have been a young snake ... or it had struck something recently. It wasn't fun."

Weena picked up Sarah and they went inside. "I guess we get to carry the baggage, Patrick," I remarked.

I took two bags and he took his carry-on. The second trip, I took the third bag and he took my carry-on. It was just starting to rain.

"Can we ride while we're here?" Patrick asked. We were standing on the veranda.

"Sure. Why?"

"Last time here."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure. I can see us, but not here. I don't understand."

"That's okay. Don't push. Do you want to visit the nungungi?"

"Yes. Monday or Tuesday. Our last visit."

"Right. He said that last time."

"Gramps coming soon." And he went inside. I followed, wondering what it all meant.

Mum and Weena were in the kitchen with Sarah asleep on Weena's shoulder.

"So how are you, really?" I asked.

"As I said, older. But I guess I'm alive and functioning. Your dad took it hard. Maybe harder than I did. You'll see. Now, what are your plans?"

"I'd like to talk to David; Patrick wants to ride a horse again, and he wants to make a last visit to the nungungi. That's about it ... except for you two."

"Weena mentioned Jack and Alice. And their two. You know, don't you?"

"Yes," said Weena, "Gordy and Weena. I was — uh — taken aback."

I heard a ute pull in and then footsteps. Dad came in. I was shocked. He looked as though he'd aged ten years in less than one. I gave him a big hug. "Hi."

"Hey, son. Sorry, I was slow getting back. I was with the cattle broker." He looked at Mum. "Did you tell them?"

"No."

"Well, give me some tea, and we'll all sit down. Hey, Weena. You're as pretty a sheila as ever I saw. Of course, Sarah's a bit young." Weena gave him a kiss and we all sat down.

"Okay, Dad," I said. "You've called this meeting for a reason."

"Yes. I wanted to do this face-to-face, and here you are." He unwrapped a sweet and put it in his mouth. "We're selling up."