That is until Molly calls out. “Come on Morgan.” Her small hand stretched out waiting for me. My heart warms. I haven’t been here long, turned their world upside down, and they still accept me.
I quickly tell Dani we can’t go near the house just yet; she nods while Molly talks a million miles an hour.
Molly looks me over before declaring, “I like your hair.”
I brought the hair dye when Dani and I went into Burra Point, and after last night, I needed to not be blondeanymore. So now I’m back to my natural hair colour. And shorter. The thought of his hands in my hair disgusts me. It didn’t matter how many times I washed it, I could still feel his hands in it. So, I cut it. Now I’m rocking a choppy brunette bob.
“Thank you.”
We get what we need, staying clear of the homestead, although we could hear shouting every now and then. Molly kept looking but I think Dani and I did a good job of distracting. Hopefully long enough until she can ask Brent.
We walk Dani back at Molly’s insistence. As we get back, a caravan arrives.
“Perfect timing.” Dani says as she unlocks the door. “Molly, come have a look at this.”
Molly skips over to where Dani is, and then lets out a squeal.
“Nanna and Poppa F!” And with that, she’s off running to the older couple, who instantly wrap her up in a tight hug.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
The woman lets her go and the man ruffles her hair, “Keeping out of trouble?”
“Always.” Keeping out of trouble and creating are all the same when you're five. “Come meet Morgan.”
Then she’s dragging them toward me. I hold out my hand to greet them, but I’m quickly wrapped in a warm embrace. I freeze, not used to being shown this sort of affection.
“Let her go.” The older man’s voice calls out.
“Sorry dear. I’m Val and this is my husband, Barry.”
“Hi.” I awkwardly raise my hand in a hello gesture.
“You can just call us Nanna and Poppa.”
“Oh, um ok.”
Molly proudly informs me. “I call them Nanna F and Poppa F.”
Dani then takes her turn to greet them. I step back letting them have their moment. “You guys made it.” Val embraces her with a hug. Barry gives her a hi and pat on the back.
“Morgan, come on, let’s bake.” Molly pulls on my hand.
We say our goodbyes and leave. The interaction has left me missing Rhys’s grandparents, so we end up making a batch of biscuits Rhys’s grandmother taught me. I was surprised I remembered.
Molly talks non-stop and I love it. She tells me all about her Mum, how she wishes more kids were here, her favourite teddy, and wonders what a big city would be like.
We’re just pulling out the tray from the oven, when the door bust opens and in walks Rhys. He has a nice bruise on his forehead, and sitting in the centre is a deep cut.
He pauses and looks at me. Something flicks over his features. Was it approval or annoyance? Does he like my new, old hair? Why do I care what he thinks?
I turn and place the tray on top of the stove.
Molly breaks the silence, “We made choc chip biccies.”
“I can see.”
I look over my shoulder, he is still looking at me.
