Page 107 of Outback Reunion

‘What am I gunna do with you three?’ he mused, reaching out to pat one of the non-beer stealers. Luna had said that Rosie was a grump, so when the animal kind of snuggled against his hand, he guessed it must be Lenore or George.

Although Mark found them cute in their way, his dad would almost certainly see them as pests—he had friends on stations further up north that were shooting thousands of feral camels a year. But that seemed like such a waste. They were beautiful beasts, and it wasn’t their fault their ancestors had been brought to Australia in the eighteen hundreds and then abandoned once they were no longer needed. It made much more sense to use them for good—as some other farmers were starting to. He’d heard that in some parts of the country, camel farming was becoming quite the thing—people milking them, making cheeses, using their fur, eating their meat and in some cases even using their shit for fuel. ‘But I can’t do much with just three of you, can I?’

In reply, the camel rubbed its nose against Mark’s neck. ‘Do you want to work the land somehow or will you miss performing? Where’d you come from anyway? Were you guys wild camels? Did the Saad sisters train you or—’

He stopped mid-sentence when he realised he was talking to camels.

Rescuecamels who he was hanging out with, alongside hisrescuedog.

Shit.He was turning into his mother.

As if she knew he was thinking about her, his mobile rang in his pocket. He’d been expecting this call ever since Gabriela had stormed away from him at the party and Tahlia had made her surprise appearance, but so far nothing. No missed calls when he’d finished helping at the circus last night and nothing all day. He figured she must finally be properly relaxing.

He contemplated letting the call go to voicemail, but she and Dad would be home in a couple of days and having this conversation would be even more mortifying in person. Besides, he’d have to break the news about their new guests sooner or later.

‘Hey, Mum,’ he said, trying not to slur as he answered the call.

‘Hey, sweetheart. How are you?’ She sounded even chirpier than usual. Was she drunk too?

‘I’m fine,’ he lied, waiting for the grilling. No way Eileen Brady would have kept her mouth shut about the spectacle at Forrester’s Rock.

‘Lovely. That’s lovely. Now, I need you to do me a favour.’ She giggled and he heard his dad laugh in the background. ‘I need you to look in our old family albums for something.’

‘Thephotoalbums?’ He grimaced—Mum was always trying to get him to sit down and go through those things with her when he was a kid, but he’d never sat still long enough to humour her. ‘What’s this about?’

She giggled again. Yep, she was definitely tipsy. ‘Your father and I are talking—’

Dad snorted in the background. ‘Talking?I think you mean arguing!’

‘Shh, Trevor. Okay, Dad and I arearguingabout who won mini golf on our honeymoon.’

What the?!Mark was in no mood to deal with this.

‘I think he might be developing dementia because he seems to think it was him, but I know for a fact that it was me and I kept the scorecard to prove it. It should be in the album from our wedding and honeymoon.’

He downed the dregs of his bottle. ‘And you want me to go look for it?Now?’

‘Do you have anything better to do?’

‘Not really.’ And just because he was miserable, didn’t mean he should ruin his parents’ night as well. ‘Fine. I’ll go have a look and call you back if I find anything. No promises.’

‘Thank you, darling. Oh, and before you go, I had another call from Eileen this morning.’

‘I’ll bet you did,’ he said, ‘but do you want me to look for this scorecard or what?’

‘Okay, speak soon.’

He ended the call, bid the camels goodnight and stomped grumpily back into the house. He’d changed his mind; he didn’t want to talk about Gabriela and Tahlia. Bloody Mrs Brady had probably told Mum all she needed to know anyway. He’d have a quick look in the albums and if he found the scorecard, he’d take a photo, send it to her and then turn off his phone.

His beer was empty, so he grabbed another from the fridge before wandering into the formal living room and switching on the light, Rookie darting in and out between his feet as he crossed to the old wooden cabinet where Mum kept her precious albums. The last time Mark remembered them being taken out was when he’d brought Tahlia home for the first time and his parents had insisted on showing her all his embarrassing childhood photos. Burying that memory, he rifled through the box of tomes until he found a pale pink one labelled, ‘Our Wedding and Honeymoon’, and then he took it to the couch.

He couldn’t believe this was what his life had come to—talking to camels and looking for mementos from before he was born to placate his parents. If his teammates could see him now!

The first few photos were of Mum and Dad newly engaged and smiling at the camera. Her hair was longer than he’d ever seen it—up in a high ponytail with a bubble-gum pink scrunchie that matched the overalls she was wearing—and Dad wore the ugliest tracksuit Mark had ever seen. The next were of her getting ready for their big day—his grandma, June, fussing as Mum stood in front of a floor length mirror in her shiny-white, puffy sleeved princess dress. He was about to skip ahead to the honeymoon when something stopped him—a photo of Mum and her two bridesmaids dressed in frilly gold gowns, and a little flower girl with frizzy red hair that clashed terribly with her pink dress.

The flower girl was the spitting image of Luna.

His heart shot to his throat. What the hell was this?Whowas this?

---