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"Don't you think you guys should be seeing what you can do for her?" I ask. "She's unconscious but breathing and I don't know what else to do."

"Where's her daughter? Roger said she was hiding somewhere."

"You know Roger?" I asked.

"Sergeant Roger Hiles." The ridiculously young cop told me. "He's down at the station. Said she went ballistic and tried to take his gun from him. Said he had to use his baton to stop her."

"Right..." I don't believe a word of it. "Penny is fine. She's next door at my place with Sally."

"Jerry, you go and welfare check the kid. I'll wait with Gordon. Bus should be here shortly. Oh, you can turn around now."

"Shouldn't we get stuff to stop the bleeding or something?" I worry about the constant ooze of blood from her forehead despite the training that tells me blood always looks more than it is.

"Nothing we can do for her. Paramedics should be-" He's cut off by more flashing lights pulling into the front yard and lighting the lounge up like a bad red and blue disco.

~*~

"Did you see they transferred that copper?"

"What's that Norm?" I ask my boss.

"That copper that beat shit out of his wife."

"Oh. He should have been locked the fuck up, not transferred." I shake my head to rid it of the remembered night. It's almost two months ago now. Time flies when you live a life as exciting as mine.

It briefly hit the papers but was pretty soundly quashed. There were simple mentions of a 'disturbance' and Constance's court appearance on 'assault police' charges. I followed what I could and learned that her charges were eventually pulled. It stunk to high heaven of cover up to me.

"I hope the lady is ok now. I heard she took a right flogging."

"That she did." I hope he understands that I don't want to talk about it from my tone.

"Speak of the devil." He says in a hushed tone and nods toward the door. I recognise Constance but the two people who escort her are older and unknown to me. 'Perhaps her parents,' I think noting the resemblance of the older woman to her. The man grips her hand tightly as if for her support and they beeline to me when she points me out.

Her eyes are downcast and there is a bright pink slash of scar tissue that cuts down her forehead. I can't help but flash back to when I saw her last and it gaped open and oozed onto her carpet. Without makeup for the first time I've ever seen her, she looks so young and girl next door. Her skin is pale, and a smattering of freckles grace her cheeks and nose.

"I wanted to thank you." She looks up with the same bright blue eyes her daughter has as she speaks.

I shake my head and wonder what for. "I just... Penny and... You look..."

"Like a horror movie." She laughs.

"A hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you. That's for bloody sure."

"Seriously, you ran in when there could have been a crazy cop still there. Thankyou."

"Penny said he'd gone. She said..."

"Shh. It's over now." Her hand on my forearm calms me and she smiles at the contact.

"Terry Boland." The man thrusts a hand at me, and I shake it on instinct.

"Winnie." He says nodding at the woman who smiles and speaks.

"Missy had a fractured skull and doctors tell us that if the ambulance didn't arrive when it did, she would most likely have permanent brain damage or had a stroke or something. It was bleeding and... We'd like to thank you."

"I just did what... Any neighbour would do what-"

"Nonsense. Most people these days would turn the television up and ignore the kid knocking at the door that late. Connie has been home for a few weeks now. It's her birthday next weekend and we'd like you to come along to the family thing. We have a bit to celebrate this year."

Constance rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "Blue, it's okay if you're busy. Really, I just wanted to see you and say thanks for taking care of Penny. The last thing I remember is worrying-" She cuts herself off by bursting into tears.

For some reason, the first thing I thought of was to hug her closely while she sobbed. She melted into my chest and stayed there for uncomfortably long while her parents stood and watched.

"Anyway..." She straightens up and wipes her eyes. "Birthday thing. Bring your friend Sally if you like. Penny loves her. Here."

She handed me a printed invitation that I scrutinised for want of knowing what else to do in the moment.

"It's a way out of town." Terry says, "We've saved the guest room for you, so you can have a couple of beers and stay overnight. Family bring their RV's and such. The big three-oh. My little girl is not so little anymore."

"We'd love if you would come." Winnie adds.

"Penny insisted..." Constance says blushing furiously. "That I give you this from her."

With that she leans up and kisses my cheek. It's my turn to blush.

"Oh, and she wants to know what the pink milk was that Sally made her."

"Quik."

"Quick what?" She shrinks visibly and glances nervously about.

"Strawberry Quik. You just... a spoonful and stir."

"Oh. Sorry. I'm still a little... Jumpy."

"I'll bring some." I smile. Without her makeup, she's a remarkably pretty woman. Beautiful even.

~*~

Sally gave me a little bag of hair bands to give Penny. I did ask her if she wanted to go but she just shook her head and said, "Nein. No. Weird. Not like we are couple, no?"

Their rural property number was 3201 which meant they were precisely thirty-two kilometres from town. The driveway started at a double grid and wound down between an honour guard of Jacaranda trees that rained their purple flowers down like a carpet and I felt a little like an intruder.

I parked my humble Hyundai beside an array of automobiles that spoke quite loudly of money. There was a Jaguar, a few vintage Holden and Fords that looked like show cars and even a thing that looked like a Rolls Royce. The assembled motorhomes and caravans looked like luxury units and I felt incredibly out of place.

Clutching my gift and doubting it terribly, I wandered over the precise lawns toward the large rambling homestead at the centre and the marquee erected out front. I expected at any moment for a butler to intercept me and explain in a terribly severe British tone, "I'm sorry sir, you are most definitely not on the guest list."

Instead, a tangle of arms and legs running at full speed leapt up at me and into my arms. Her little mouth gushed with a million words and stories about family and all sorts of things I simply could not keep up with. Now burdened with my terrible choice of present and the bag containing Penny's Strawberry Quik, I balanced my little mate on my hip and carried her as well.

Penny pointed me towards the marquee and explained that it was almost cake time. Work had run me a little late and I'd missed the first hour or so.

"I thought you weren't coming." She frowned and pouted at me.

"Not a chance." I told her. Placing her on the grass gently, I gave her the bag with the Quik in it and took out my present.

"Is that for Mummy?"

"Yep."

"She's over here. I think she's been waiting for you. She keeps looking around all the time." With that, she took my hand and urged me through the faces of strangers who seemed to stop and appraise me, toward an absolute vision.

She wore a simple classy v-neck a-line dress. Blame my sisters for my ability to describe that. It was pastel shade of salmon. Blame my gay brother for my ability with the colour. And with her healthy flushed skin and her bright smile, she was almost unrecognisable as the quiet little lady who lived next door once.

With a little more decorum than her daughter, she hurried to me and wrapped me in a joyful hug.

"I hoped you'd come. Where's Sally?"

"Um... Sally's kinda just a..." How do you explain booty call in polite company?

"Oh. Oh! Well, I'm glad you're here. I won't bother introducing you to everyone. Basically, they're all family and they think you're some kind of hero or something, so they'll introduce themselves, I'm sure. What's that?"

"Ah... I got you a present. It's a bit dumb."

"Well give it." She playfully pushes me.

She stands there looking at it for quite a while after she's unwrapped it. She turns it in her hands and glances at me now and then with an unreadable expression.

"It's actually the riding helmet that Michelle Payne wore when she rode Prince of Penzance in the-"

"Hahaha. Melbourne Cup this year. I remember." She laughs at me, "And it'll come in handy if someone starts swinging batons at me ever again. Come here."

She roughly grabs my shirt and pulls me down to peck me directly on the lips.

"It's signed. There's a certificate..." I'm embarrassed.

"Thank you. I love it. I think I'll wear it all afternoon. I have to show Mum. She'll get such a laugh. Come on. Where did you get it even?"

As we walked, I explained about the charity auction at the RSL and winning the bid on the helmet. I wouldn't tell her the price and she punched my arm playfully.

"It was all for the local rural fire brigade, so money well spent."

"Well, I love it."

Much later, I've found a quiet spot off to the side and I watch her family and friends mingle and talk. They certainly are a friendly mob and have gone out of their way to include me but I'm feeling a bit of a social overdose. So, I content myself with people watching and allow myself the first beer of the afternoon.

Connie is sitting with a couple that introduced themselves earlier as her cousins, Dan and Sadie. I can't hear them. They're quite a distance away amid the throng of guests but they laugh freely and Connie occasionally glances over at me and smiles. Penny plays happily with some of the slightly older kids and waves when she catches me watching.

There's a freedom to both their bearings that wasn't there before. I've never experienced domestic violence, but I imagine it's a weighty cross to carry. It's none of my business but I find myself wondering how a woman with a family as kind and lovely as hers, allowed herself to be treated like that. That thought in itself challenges me.

Who am I to apportion responsibility for it upon her? Surely, his behaviour was his own choice. Relationships are strange. I've never been really good at them. I was with Jacinta for four years and still don't know what went wrong. One day we were happy, the next she was packing. At least Connie is out of her maelstrom.

The afternoon is beginning to cool. A gentle breeze has blown in from the east and it ruffles tablecloths and tips plastic cups over. I smile at Penny chasing a balloon across the lawn.

"You're probably feeling a bit left out. My family is pretty loud and busy."

"Ah gidday, Terry. Just taking a breather. Lots of people."

"Come." He beckons, "Feeling the same myself. Let me show you something."

I follow him around toward the rear of the large house and down a driveway toward a large shed.

"My escape bunker." He points. "It used to be the old dairy back in my parent's days. We're fourth generation on this piece of dirt. My great grandfather bought it back when butter was worth a fortune. Nowadays, it's too small to make a living off, so I work in Kingaroy at the office and we sort of treat this place like a hobby. Here we are."

He opens a side door and flicks on some lights. Inside the shed are all sorts of military vehicles. I recognise a Jeep and an old army motorcycle. One looks like a kind of personnel carrier with tracks and another like a tank kind of thing. There are some in parts as well and the walls are hung with other military paraphernalia.

"Do you smoke?" He asks, reaching under the bar where he stands.

I shake my head, "Gave it up years ago."

"Not cigarettes. I've got a bit of the old 'devil's lettuce' hidden away. It helps me with the nerves." He holds out his hand and I see it shake a little. "Spent a little time in East Timor in ninety-nine. Then Afghanistan in two thousand two and after a stint in Iraq in two thousand five I was medicalled out. Broken brain you see."

He taps his head and packs a little brass cone. I'm taken straight back to my teenage years of getting stoned and playing video games. I decline when he offers me the bong.

"I probably should keep a straight head. Thanks though, Terry. Do you mind if I poke about?" I point at his vehicles.

"Knock yourself out."

Moments later, he finds me frowning at the little vehicle with the tracks that fascinates me.

"Bren gun carrier. You want to go for a spin?"

"Really?" I feel a bit like a kid. "It runs and-"

"Come on then." He clambers in over the side and seats himself down low behind the wheel. "You get that roller door, mate."

As I roll the big door up with the chains, I hear the little vehicle fire up. It's quieter than I expected.

"Come on." He smiles from the driver's seat. I'm pretty certain he's as baked as a man can get. It's contagious in a way. I'm laughing as well, when the vehicle lurches forward and he guns the motor.

"Little flat head ford v-eight back there. She gets a wriggle on too. Imagine being eighteen years old and driving one of these through Europe or the dessert. How much fun would those kids have been having?"

And get a wriggle on it does. We're doing about forty kilometres an hour by my estimate when we burst around the corner and onto the lawns. People jump up and kids run towards us and Terry turns us around so sharply that giant clods of turf are torn out. We're mobbed by adults and kids alike who want a turn.

They climb in the back and bicker over who gets to sit where and who gets to play with the wooden replica Bren gun mounted in the back. Terry laughs like a loon as we speed around the farm. Through gates we blaze, over little contour banks and it's so smooth it's like riding a flying carpet.

When we return, he tells me, "Blue, if you don't mind, I should probably take Dad for a ride. He loves this thing, but he'll need a hand up into it."

"Sure."

As I watch his father stand in the front and salute everyone as they tear around the place, I'm laughing to myself at the family joy. My family is fairly sedate. Mum and Dad are in their seventies now. I was the youngest and my brother and sisters have moved all over Australia. We don't see each other very often and when we do it's usually very tame and formal.

"Penny for your thoughts." I startle at Connie's voice beside me.

"You have a lovely family."

"Lunatics, the lot of them. You've made quite an impression if you've got the first ride. Is he as stoned as he looks?"

"Hahaha. Probably more than he looks."

"You can imagine how much Roger liked that." She laughs loudly. "The first time he visited, he was seriously considering dobbing him in."

"I can. Yeah..."

"Ah mood killer. Roger. The 'r' word."

"No no. All good. Just... Are you doing ok?"

She places a hand flat on my chest like it belongs there. "You are staying?"

"I think your parents will be offended if I don't."

"Damn straight." She smiles. "We can talk later then. You probably have lots of questions. I can't imagine how it was for you having to deal with all that."

"I was more worried for you than..."

"Later Blue. Serious stuff later. This afternoon is for happy stuff. I'm glad you came. So is Penny. She was so upset when we had to move out of the house. She was worried she'd never see you again. It's strange really. She doesn't attach to men. Dad maybe and her uncle Dan. But I was with Roger for four years and she never..." She shrugs. "I don't know. Come on, Cousin Sadie is dying to quiz you on Sally. I wouldn't say she's crushing on you a bit. She's positively predatory."

With that, she takes my hand like it's nothing at all and escorts me back to where Dan and Sadie sit watching the shenanigans with the Bren gun carrier.

Hours later, Sadie is satisfied that I'm available and that I'm aware she is. Dan has offered to take me hunting deer up on his property in Manumbar come winter, and Connie is quietly smiling into her wine glass listening to the happy banter. Penny is fast asleep on my lap cuddled tightly into my chest and I'm watching Terry and Winnie dance like teenagers on the lawn.

~*~

The guestroom is well removed from the main house. I'm sort of situated at the end of the hall past the bathroom and laundry. Terry told me it was originally the room that held the boiler which supplied the dairy and heated the home in winter. The larger than standard room includes an ensuite toilet and shower. It's all quaintly furnished with antique furniture and smells crisp and clean. There is a door that opens to the hall and French doors open onto the wide veranda that circles the house.

There is also a tinkle of glass and a gentle tap at those French doors.

Opening them, I find a smiling Connie holding a bottle of red and two glasses. "Brave the mossies with me for a while, Blue?"

"Love to. Um... Just not dressed for entertaining." I'm in my pyjamas already. Well, what serves for pyjamas; boxer shorts and a loose fitting singlet.

"Good. Me neither." She leads the way to a table and chairs and it's only as she seats herself that I notice what she's wearing. The long t-shirt has a unicorn and a rainbow on it and rides up as she sits. Legs stretch away for miles and I decide to sit too before these boxers betray my interest in her legs.

"So... I'm not sure why I even want you to know the story, but I feel like I need to explain how I ended up lying on the floor in a pool of blood. You poor thing, that must have been terrible."

"Pretty sure, not as terrible as it was for you, Connie."

"No. No. Well, I knew how I ended up there. You just found the mess." She fills our glasses and stares at hers for a while.

"Connie, I'm just glad you're okay. You don't owe me anything. I don't need... it's really none of my business."

"That's just it, isn't it? It wasn't your business, but you took it on anyway. I'm glad. Glad for Penny. God she must have been so frightened. For so long too, not just that night. God, I'm a shit mum. I should have run... I tried twice. He found us both times and took us home again. The second time, I had moved up the coast to Bundaberg and was there about three months before he found us. Broke my arm that time. He said if I left again, he'd... Penny. You know."

She hasn't raised her eyes to mine throughout this and I'm glad she doesn't see the flickering of anger in them. Her hand reaches for mine and they fold together without thought or intention. Just fingers searching for connection.

"He wasn't always like it. In the beginning he was... Oh god, so extravagant. He chased me around in circles. Gifts and dinners and holidays and I thought it was the fairy tale, you know. It was more than I ever wished for. When it was good it was really good. I had Penny, and didn't think... Who wants a single mum and someone else's kid right?"

She sips her wine thoughtfully then continues, "I tried you know. To be the good little wife. I tried for Penny. Part of me knew the relationship was destructive and wrong but I wanted her to have a family. For me too. I wanted me to have what he was when he wasn't being..." She trailed off and shook her head.

"Penny's Dad?" I ask. Maybe just to change the topic. Maybe because I wonder who fathered the precocious little blonde.

"Drunken one-night stand. Painting quite the picture of myself, hey?"

"You don't... Why? Um, can you help me understand why it's important for you to tell me all of this?"

"Hmm. Because you listen and it helps to talk. Because somehow, we're connected to you. Penny loves you. You were always kind to me. You never said anything about the makeup that I trowelled on to cover the bruises or the noise from our arguments. You just extended friendship. You were probably the closest he allowed me to get to having a friend. Do you remember mowing the lawn that time?"