He’d jumped from the darkness, waving for the General to stop. ‘Fire!’ ‘Where?’ ‘The shearing shed. Zara and I — we were just mucking around —’ ‘What have you stinking kids done now?’ ‘It was an accident! You’ve gotta believe me —’ ‘Get in! I’ll deal with you later.’ She belted through the front gates, then flung the ute away. An orange glow died inside the shed — ‘Zara! Zara!’ She flicked the switch — ‘SURPRISE!’ — only to be greeted by whistles, cheers and party poppers. ‘HAPPY FIFTIETH!’ The shock took as long to untangle as the streamers. She stood dumbfounded as guests hugged and kissed her and the band struck up a song. ‘No doubt you’re both to blame for this,’ she said as a coldie was slipped into her hand. ‘You didn’t think you were going to spend it in front of the TV, did you?’ Zara said, suddenly there beside Dean. ‘And are those my baby photos on the walls for the world to see?’ ‘I thought I’d get in and embarrass you first before my eighteenth.’ ‘If you live to see eighteen.’ She growled a smile, hugged Zara then kissed her on the forehead.
