by Sasha Wasley
She read the message, laughed, and showed it to Finn.
July was a wonderful time to spend a weekend at Patersons. The sky was clear, brilliant blue every day and the heat far milder than in the wet season. Free cut cherry tomatoes for a salad and paused to gaze out of the kitchen window, trying to memorise the paling gold where the blue hit the sunset, the river a dark streak in the distance.
Incredible.
One day, somehow, she would capture that blue.
‘What are you doing, Beth?’ Free was distracted by Willow’s voice behind her.
‘I’m making a salad dressing,’ said Beth.
‘We’ve got several nice dressings in the fridge.’
‘No, this one is better. Trust me.’
‘Is this your caesar avocado dressing, Beth?’ Free asked, turning from the kitchen window.
‘Yeah.’
‘Oh good Lord, Willow, let her do it. It’s freaking amazing.’
Willow backed off. ‘You done with those tomatoes, Free?’
‘Yep, here you go.’
They assembled the salad together and Barry came in to pour them drinks. ‘You doing up a potato salad as well as the green one, sweetheart?’ he asked Willow.
‘Yes, Dad. The potatoes are here, cooked and ready.’ She shot Free a glance and Free grinned back. Barry hated green salads.
‘Don’t forget the egg,’ he advised. ‘Your mum always put egg in.’
He departed, calling further instructions. Willow made a disgruntled noise. ‘I swear . . .’
‘I’ll do the potato salad,’ Beth told her.
Willow gave a sigh of relief, sinking onto a stool. She grabbed her glass of red wine and raised it to Free’s white. ‘Here’s to a great outcome with the dam. I still can’t believe you had to get arrested for the cause, but it was worth it in the end, right, Free?’
‘Sure was,’ was Free’s fervent reply. ‘Hopefully, this inquiry will pull together enough evidence to stop it altogether.’
‘Another whistleblower from the Department of Planning has come forward, too, did you hear?’ Willow said. ‘More evidence of a corrupt approval process.’
‘Jesus. They’ll have to redo the whole application, surely,’ said Beth.
Willow shrugged. ‘Who knows? I hope so. There’s bound to be a more thorough investigation of the issues if they do. Whatever the case, Buildplex is looking at huge fines.’
‘Good to see them hitting Amanda Hamilton in the one place it will hurt,’ said Beth.
Free agreed and reflected with grim satisfaction that Aidan was unlikely to get any more art commissions from Buildplex for a while. She attempted to banish the uncharitable thought.
Karma! That stuff was amazing.
‘And what’s happening with the school residency, Free?’ Beth asked. ‘Are you finished now?’
‘No, I’ve got a short extension,’ she replied. She took the chives off the bench to rinse them. ‘Because Aidan did such a crappy job teaching ceramics to the Year Tens, we decided to go through the skills and design stages with them again. I’ll be there for another month, probably.’
‘Are you getting paid for that?’ Willow asked.
‘Yes. YouthArts coughed up some more money. I suspect they were able to recoup the loss when Aidan ducked out of his contract.’
Willow raised her eyebrows. ‘So he never tried to worm his way back in?’
Free shook her head, returning the chives to Beth’s board. ‘We literally never saw the guy again. He went straight back to Perth. There’s no way Jay would have had him back, anyway.’
Free checked on Max. He was asleep in his basket in the corner of the kitchen. He spent a lot of time sleeping these days, but he was getting braver – venturing out to seek his litter box or sniff out his food bowl. Max was on a special medicated food that he wasn’t impressed with, but he hadn’t lost any weight for the change. Cats were so damn resilient, she reflected. He still purred all night between her and Finn on the bed, as if he didn’t even mind that he was mostly blind. The vet had assured Free that he was comfortable, although his life was likely to be shortened by the snakebite. Finn had scoffed when Free passed on that part of the message.
‘You know what Max is like – he loves surprising people. He’ll be with us till he’s twenty, just you watch.’
Free certainly hoped so.
‘Can you keep your unit for the extra month?’ said Willow.
‘Technically, I could have kept it, but I gave it up. I’ve moved in with Finn – just this week, actually.’
Beth’s efficient chopping paused for a brief moment, and then resumed.
‘Tom heard you were living with Finn now.’ Willow avoided Beth’s eye as well, as though she expected their older sister to say something stern. ‘Finn’s not fazed that your income could be a bit unstable?’
‘No, he seems fine with it. But I’ve got quite a few customers for Bostons now, plus the community centre has space for me to run an oils course starting in September. I’ve got a few sign-ups already.’ She looked at Beth, but her sister was still chopping. ‘I’m doing private art classes with a couple of students, too. Finn’s set up a space in our front room for me to run one-on-one classes and a painting circle.’
‘Oh, cool! How many have you got? All those kids who came around to your place when we visited that day? Anyone else?’
‘I’ve got Tia, and there’s Ethan and Jacqueline – brother and sister – all taking private lessons. Jorja and Leith come to painting circle, and Cameron sometimes. Cameron doesn’t bother so much any more. He told me he was only ever coming along to hang around with Tia. She’s agreed to go out with him now, so he’s not as desperate to come paint every weekend.’ Free grinned.
‘And how’s it going?’ Willow asked. She shot a hasty glance over at Beth, who was now cutting up the cooked potatoes. ‘Living with someone, I mean.’
‘Good! I mean, we were practically living together anyway. I’ve met his mum and dad now – on Skype. They’re so sweet. I can barely understand his dad, he’s so Irish. And his sister’s just as bad. I can’t wait to meet them in person. Finn and I think we might tour the north of Ireland, but only for a few days, because we want to spend as much time as we can with Finn’s family. Henry – the baby – he’s so sweet! I’m painting him this wall frieze of Australian animals. It was Finn’s idea. It will roll up nice and small for posting, or we can deliver it ourselves when we fly over at Christmas . . .’ Free stopped herself from babbling. What could be going through Beth’s head?
Beth looked up at last. ‘Have you got any mustard powder, Willow?’ Willow fetched it obediently and Beth scraped the diced potatoes into a bowl with the herbs. ‘I bet Finn’s family love you, Free,’ she said. ‘They must be relieved he’s got someone to anchor him after their sudden move.’
Free relaxed. ‘Yeah. I get the vibe his mum’s really glad he met me.’
They were only a few more minutes in the kitchen before they had finished putting together the salads, and then they went out to the patio where Tom was cleaning the barbecue. Willow took him a glass of wine and Free sat beside Finn on the old cane couch, which was positioned so the fading sunlight fell half over them. Finn took her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing it almost absently as he listened to the conversation. It was like his love was as natural as breathing. Free tipped her head back and gazed upwards.
That sky.
Its precise shade still eluded her, but maybe it was meant to be that way. Maybe if she nailed it, there would be nothing left to work for. Nothing to chase – nothing that would push her to keep trying.
Yeah, that made sense. That tantalising blue was wondrous – perfect – yet unattainable.
Perfection had never been Free’s thing, anyway.
Once again, I need to express my gratitude to the team that assisted in the production of this novel: my agent, Alex Adsett (especially for her suggestions when I was floundering in a sea of plotting problems); my publish
er at Penguin Random House, Ali Watts, who gave me the best structural advice I could hope for; designer Louisa Maggio, who created a cover that is a work of art; and the fabulous editorial team that worked on the novel – Fay Helfenbaum, Saskia Adams, Penelope Goodes and Elena Gomez. Thank you also to the terrific publicity people at PRH who do such a great job in getting my books out into the world.
My gratitude goes to Lizzi Phillips, the specialist arts–media teacher at my daughter’s high school, for providing her insights on the art and teaching elements of the story; and to my partner, artist Trevor O’Sullivan, who also helped with any arty questions I had (not to mention the usual support with plot struggles and self-doubt). My deep appreciation to Senior Constable Jan Walker for her detailed advice on the police work described in the book. I am also very grateful to Georgia for her encouragement and listening ear, and Kath for prompting me to make Aidan nastier and the Free-and-Finn dynamic just that little bit spicier!
A special vote of thanks to the reviewers and readers, especially the advance readers, of book one (Dear Banjo). Your kind words motivated me to write the best sequel I could write so that it would live up to the first book. It’s been lovely getting to know many of you on social media or even in real life, and being able to cheer some of you along in your own writing careers. It’s good to be part of the writing and reading village here in Australia.
And last of all, thank you to the real feline Max, for allowing me to use his name.
About the Author
Sasha Wasley was born and raised in Perth, Western Australia.
She has completed a PhD in cultural theory and loves nature, Jane Austen and puns. She is a farming wannabe, with a passion for animals and the land. Although she’s in her forties now, she still wants a pony.
Sasha’s debut novel, a work of young adult paranormal fiction, was published in 2014. Today, she lives and writes in the Perth Hills with her partner and two daughters, surrounded by dogs, cats and chickens.
Sasha also publishes mystery, paranormal and young adult novels as S D Wasley.
ALSO BY SASHA WASLEY
They were best friends who were never meant to fall in love – but for one of them, it was already way too late.
Willow ‘Banjo’ Paterson and Tom Forrest were raised on neighbouring cattle stations in the heart of the Kimberley. As young adults, sharing the same life dreams, something came between them that Willow cannot forget. Now ten years have passed since she’s even spoken to Tom.
When her father falls ill, Willow is called home to take over the running of the family property, Paterson Downs. Her vision for a sustainable, organic cattle station is proving hard to achieve. She needs Tom’s help, but is it too late, and all too complicated, to make amends?
Tom’s heartfelt, decade-old letters remain unopened and un mentioned between them, and Willow must find the courage to finally read them. Their tattered pages reveal a love story like no other – and one you’ll never forget.
Dear Banjo is a wildly romantic and utterly captivating story about first love and second chances from an exciting new Australian author.
‘I’m calling it early – this is one of the best novels of 2017.’
AusRom Today
MICHAEL JOSEPH
UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia
India | New Zealand | South Africa | China
Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies
whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
First published by Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd 2018
Text copyright © Sasha Wasley 2018
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Cover design by Louisa Maggio © Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd
Cover illustration (watercolour brushstrokes) by J D S/Shutterstock Images
Cover photograph by Arcangel Images
ISBN: 978-0-143-78455-5
penguin.com.au
THE BEGINNING
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