Page 22 of A Matter of Trust

‘Mum said you’re staying for dinner.’

Morgan hesitated, unsure whether to engage with the boy. He must have been outside to speak to his mother. His hair was slightly damp at the front, indicating he’d had a quick wash to remove the evidence of his tears. ‘Is it all right with you?’

‘Yeah. It’s cool.’

‘What are you making?’

‘TheSanta Maria.’

Morgan shifted so he could see the partially built model in a better light. ‘Isn’t theSanta Mariathe one Columbus sailed in to discover America?’

The boy’s brown eyes brightened. ‘Yes. I have a kit forLa Pintaand Mum promised meEndeavourfor my birthday. It was Captain Cook’s ship.’

‘It looks tricky.’

‘Sailing ships are hard, because of the rigging. It’s fiddly.’

Without realising it, Morgan found himself drawn in, listening to the boy expound on the ship and holding bits and pieces for him, helping with the strings and sails.

Edward gazed up at him with a glow in his eyes reminiscent of Becca’s long ago warm appreciation. ‘How come you’re so good with knots?’

‘I have to tie tiny stitches as part of my job.’

‘Oooh yuck. I don’t think I could be a doctor. Blood and stuff. I prefer making things. I might be an engineer when I grow up.’

‘An engineer sounds like a great job.’

Packing away his tools, Edward nodded. ‘Mum said I could travel all over the world building things.’

‘You’d like to travel?’

‘Yeah. You’ve travelled, haven’t you? I remember you telling Gabby.’

‘Mostly with my job. My boss in Brisbane came from Africa and I went with him when he went home to Rwanda to train doctors in his home country. I worked there mostly, but I went to the USA for some conferences and did a locum in Britain for six months.’

‘Didn’t you miss your mum and dad?’

‘We emailed a lot.’

‘I love Grandpa Ned. He likes building things too. Grace thinks Gabby should do cooking with her but she likes to be outside. I don’t mind cooking. It’s kind of like making things, isn’t it?’

‘Except you get to eat it.’ Morgan noted and wasn’t surprised by the intimacy with his father but was surprised by his mother allowing such familiarity. ‘Why do you call Grace by her first name?’

‘Mum always called her Grace, so we started to when we were small. Mum said we should call her Mrs Cavanaugh but Grandpa Ned said it was too tricky for littlies. Grace told Mum she didn’t feel it right to be called Aunty Grace and it would be hyp-hypocritical to be called Grandmother.’ He paused, the glue bottle in one hand. ‘Why would it be hypocritical? I thought old ladies liked to be grandmothers.’

Morgan almost laughed at the thought of his mother revelling in being a grandmother. She wanted grandchildren, but not the implication of age. Perhaps because she’d been an older mother when he’d been born.

A shiver of something under his feet alerted Morgan to someone on the back steps. The whole house probably needed restumping, but it was hardly worth it. If Becca ever sold it, the house would be bulldozed and a fancy waterfront mansion would take its place. Most of the privately-owned land along the river had been subdivided into acreage allotments and lush new houses built. It was surprising she hadn’t sold it, unless Dan had a stake in it.

He stood as the back door opened and Becca paused at the top of the steps, her eyes wary. An old cane basket hung off one arm with a few silver beet leaves hanging over the edge.

Morgan stared back at her, trying to read her face. He missed being able to. The younger Becca had been easier to figure out, only clamming up when her family was mentioned.

Edward pushed his chair back with a scraping sound. ‘I’ve finished the ship. Morgan helped me.’

Her stiffness melted away as she smiled at her son. ‘Finally. I thought you were never going to get it done.’

‘I’ll start onLa Pintanext. Can you help again, Morgan?’ He peeked up shyly, the look in his eyes expecting rejection. Where was Dan when he was needed? The boy was crying out for a father’s interest.

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