Storm Coming
Page 4
“Big birdie,” announced Isabella, lifting her arms and sweeping them down. “Ugly birdy. Wings go boom!”
Sherry shuddered, reality returning with a vengeance. How long since she had told herself to face reality, to deal with facts instead of hiding from them? And already she was inventing excuses to pretend everything was fine. “Very big birdie, darling. Bad birdie.” Dead birdie, she thought, remembering the thing getting caught beneath the wheel, and the other one knocked for a six by the car. But she couldn’t say that to Isabella.
She checked that Damien was happily gumming his bottle, then straightened and glanced about her. It wasn’t dark yet, not on this side of the river. But it would be, and they’d lost a lot of time. It would be another hour at least before she reached Mallacoota, and her aunt, and the dinner her aunt had promised them. Night was drawing close and the river looked so narrow, scarcely a barrier at all.
She checked her hands, steady as a rock. Got back in the car, put it in gear, and drove.