been restless. Dropping out of her course left her with little to do, and her search for her father filled a number of functions, one of which was to give herself focus. But instead of stopping once she had found Finn, she couldn’t leave well enough alone. She had to try to organise his life. I mightn’t have your genes, Mother Linsey, she thought ruefully. But I picked up something along the way.
What would Linsey tell her to do? Want her to do now? That was too easy. It was what she, Moss, wanted to do; that is, continue with her singing. She hummed a little scale in a minor key. It tasted smooth, like chocolate. She ran through some more scales—la, la, la, la la, la, la, laaaa. She stood up and sang to the roses, sensing the music vibrate along their treacherous stems to the waiting ear of the petals.
Moss giggled self-consciously. 325 I’ve only had one glass of wine. I can’t be drunk. But she was intoxicated—by the precarious light that bridged day and night; by the sound of her own voice and the taste of her music; by the knowledge that she was now ready to move on with her life. If her time in Opportunity had taught her anything, it was that regret is too great a burden.
‘One more project,’ she promised the roses. ‘One more project for my mother, then it’s back to the Con.’
Over the next few days, Moss met with the family solicitor and the bursar of the Melba Conservatorium. They were confident Moss’s plan could be put in place for the end of the next academic year.
When she arrived in Opportunity a week before Christmas, she was disappointed to find that neither Finn nor Sandy had returned. She had to tell someone her plans, so she confided in Mrs Pargetter.
‘It will be called the Linsey Brookes Memorial Scholarship and will go to advancing the career of a young Melba graduate.’
The old lady seized Moss’s hands. ‘What a lovely thought,’ she said. ‘It’s the very thing.’
Moss went to bed feeling better than she had for longer than she could remember. If she could be sure that Finn had forgiven her, she would be truly content. She looked with affection at the teddies on the wall and settled her pillow with a little sigh. A soft, moth-wing whisper echoed from the shadows.
‘Goodnight, little one,’ Moss said, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
26
Gifts and givers
CHRISTMAS EVE WAS HOT AND oppressive. The citizens of Opportunity were becalmed on a sea of heat. Little rivulets of sweat ran down their foreheads and prickled their underarms, and their eyes were dazzled by the specks of mica that danced crazily on the ground.
‘It must be over a hundred in the old.’ Merv set a cold beer down in front of Cocky and flapped his shirt.
‘Won’t touch the sides, mate,’ said the old man, swigging the beer in two gulps before rubbing the glass on his sweaty singlet. ‘I’m still comin’ for Chrissie dinner, aren’t I? Marl’s still cookin’ in the heat?’
‘She’s out there stuffing the turkey right now. A bloody marvel, Marl.’
Cocky grunted his agreement as he gestured for another beer. ‘An’ one for me mate,’ he said as Tom came in, wiping his forehead.
‘Nah. My shout,’ said Tom, as Cocky well knew he would. ‘Merry Christmas, mate.’
‘Anyone seen Finn?’ Helen poked her head around the bar door. At the chorus of nos she disappeared again. ‘Enjoy your Christmas,’ she called over her shoulder.
‘I have to go,’ she told Hamish, who was waiting outside. ‘I’m giving Sandy a hand. See you tomorrow.’
Hamish had offered to drive the others out to Sandy’s property the next day. Finn had still failed to return from the Two Speck, and Moss and Mrs Pargetter were becoming uneasy.
‘It’s nearly three weeks since we’ve seen him,’ Moss worried.
‘Sandy was confident that he’d be alright,’ the old lady said with more conviction than she felt. ‘He must be enjoying his camping.’
As Finn hadn’t returned by the time they were leaving, they left a note on his door. Moss was disappointed that he would miss the presentation, but Mrs Pargetter was oblivious to her place of honour.
She and Moss were surprised to see Helen’s car parked in Sandy’s drive. ‘She’s helping with the cooking,’ Sandy explained.
They were settling into their chairs in the living room when Moss saw Bill Green’s cab crunching up the gravel drive to disgorge a dishevelled Finn.
‘Am I too late?’ Finn puffed