Page 136 of A Town Like Clarence

‘To Clarence!But the muster’—her mother’s eyes dropped to the crumpled flyer—‘it’s on this coming Saturday. A long way from here, Kirsty.’

‘I know. Crazy, right?’

Her mum threw a pair of jeans in the washer, spun the dial, and gave the on button a podge. ‘I can see why I have problems to face in Clarence … but why you, Kirsty? Is this because you haven’t got the plane donated yet? It’s not … why has your face turned beetroot?’

She followed her mother back into the house from the old lean-to out the back where the laundry was, and into the kitchen. ‘I may have found the love of my life.’

Her mum plonked two wine glasses on the table, and Kirsty opened the fridge door and pulled out a bottle of chardy.

‘Like … one of the loves ofmylife?’ said Terri.

‘No, Mum. I think this is the real deal, only there’s a problem. The farmer—his name is Joe—lost his money on some gambling venture. It’s … well, you know. I’ve had to put boundaries up about that, and I’m not sure if I ought to be lowering them.’

‘I’m so sorry, Kirsty. What’s his addiction? Horses? Football? Online poker?’

She blinked. ‘Um … I don’t actually know.’

Her mum nodded. ‘Us addicts can be sneaky. Has he done anything to combat his addiction?’

‘I don’t know that either.’ She’d been too shocked to bring it up. Too worried about her own feelings, now she thought of it, and not enough worried about his. ‘I heard about it from someone else, and—well, to be honest, Mum, I was so upset, I did the family thing and upped stumps.’

‘It’s true what you said yesterday, Kirsty. Running away never did me any favours. All it did was make me lonely. Are you lonely?’

The word ‘no’ leapt up but she checked herself.Wasshe lonely?

Her mother looked a little shy. ‘You know, I wasn’t the greatest help with your homework when you were at school.’

She smiled. ‘I don’t know, Mum. I learned a lot about geography skipping town. A lot about making a twenty-dollar note stretch to buy groceries.’

Her mum squeezed her hand. ‘I was a terrible mother, wasn’t I?’

‘We had fun,’ Kirsty said, ‘for a while. But then, it wasn’t so fun anymore. I’ve spent years trying to prove to myself that I didn’tneed to stay anywhere for a long time, but you know what? I think, really, I’m the opposite. I like stability. I want to put an X on a map and be able to write in red penKirsty lives hereand have that be true for a long, long time.’

Fifty years of time. With Farmer Joe right beside her—a non-gambling version of him, at any rate, and that was a possibility she had to explore properly instead of just assuming the worst.

Terri pushed the wine bottle to one side. ‘I’m going to make up for not being a good mother, starting now. Here’s a secret about me you don’t know: I wasn’t dreadful at English when I was at school. I wrote a poem once about a travelling circus, and the school published it in the newsletter.’

Kirsty choked on a mouthful of tea. ‘Hang on a second; Mum, does this mean you’re coming with me? And … for some wacky reason you want to write a poem for the muster?’

‘Me and my wool stash have decided we can be brave and come with you. And no, love. I wantyouto write a poem. I’m just going to help you with it.’

‘A poem,’ she said weakly. Worst idea ever.

‘But why?’

‘Didn’t you tell me the fellow you’ve got your eye on is running the muster?’

‘Ye-es.’

‘What better way to show your interest than getting involved in his project?’

Her mother was enjoying herself, Kirsty realised. She looked happy. Involved. Thankful. Sighing, Kirsty closed her eyes. ‘I suppose we could have a crack,’ she said grudgingly. ‘The town floods a lot; maybe we could do something about that.’ How hard could it be, after all?

Piece of freaking cake, as Carol would say.

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