Page 91 of Here One Moment

Leo remains sitting in her chair. “So that’s it, you’re going to make all these allegations—”

“They’re not allegations, they’re just thoughts, and maybe I’m wrong about everything, maybe Lilith is a lovely, inspiring woman and I’m just…maybe I’m jealous? She looks so good in a pantsuit. Maybe I’m just tired? Maybe I’m scared to death about the fucking—excuse the language—psychic. I don’t know. Give me my chair back, please.”

He stands. He can’t work out how to feel. He can’t defend himself because Neve has effectively withdrawn all her comments. The woman is an evil genius.

She sits back at the desk, puts her hand on the mouse, then she swivels around.

“If you knew you really were going to die when you were forty-three, what would you do?”

He sighs. “I promise you there will be no workplace accident.”

“But if you got a terminal diagnosis. If you were given, I don’t know, six months to live—and money was no object and you still felt okay—how would you want to spend your time?”

He answers honestly.

“Nothing too crazy. I’d just want to hang out with you and the kids, with Mum and my sisters.” He pauses as he really considers it. “So we really don’t need to worry about money in this hypothetical scenario?”

“Leo. I just said. Forget about money.”

“If only we could,” says Leo. “But in that case, I would resign.”

The thought of resigning makes his chest expand with air, as if he’s just been released from a chokehold.

“I’d probably ask you if we could please move back to Tasmania,” he says.

“Really?” says Neve. “Interesting. And what would we do there?”

“Well, the kids shouldn’t miss school just because I’m hypothetically dying. We could just…relax. Maybe not so much rushing about, if that’s possible. Maybe it’s not possible. But Oli and I could do the Bay of Fires walk. I’d like to take you for a weekend to that lodge in Coles Bay. And if I’m doing special trips with each of you then I would take Bridie to a musical in Melbourne, that would be so fun.” He considers. “If money is no object, we could do one of those European river cruises!” He’s getting into it now. “I’d call—” He catches himself, stops talking abruptly.

“Who would you call?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She looks up at him. “Leo, I know who you would call.”

He turns away. “I’ve got work to do and I don’t have a terminal disease, which is good news.”

“I’ve got his number. I can give you his number right now.”

He feels sick. “I don’t want his number. This was hypothetical.”

“Let’s do everything.” Neve stands and puts her hands on his shoulders and gently shakes him. “Every single thing you just said, we can do. Except for the river cruise, you don’t want to do a river cruise, you idiot, you’d go stir-crazy, you’d jump overboard.”

“Neve, we can’t do all those things.”

“Yes we can.” She pokes him in the middle of his chest with her index finger, a little harder than he expects. “Yes. We. Can.”

Chapter 83

I like to tell people my first job was counting gray kangaroos because I think they imagine me in the outback, lying on my stomach, wearing an Akubra hat, peering through a pair of binoculars, and clicking a counter with my thumb each time a kangaroo bounded across the horizon.

The reality was far less glamorous. Reality tends to be far less glamorous.

I was employed by the National Parks and Wildlife Service as a junior biometrician.

A biometrician, if you don’t know, applies statistical analysis to biological data. I was there to help my boss study Australia’s population of western grey kangaroos.

The western grey kangaroo is one of the largest species of kangaroo. They are nicknamed “stinkers” because mature males have an unpleasant smell. During breeding season, the males compete for the females in a kind of boxing contest where they lock arms and try to push each other over, like sumo wrestlers.

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