Freedom Ride (2015)
““If I was Barry Gregory, I’d make you stay home until that healed.”
There was a line, thicker than a bad cat scratch, at the end of my brow. My eye was a bit puffy and I had a pale bruise on my temple. I hardly looked like Sonny Liston after Muhammad Ali had finished with him.
“They won’t mind,” I said. “See you after work, Nan.”
Thick silence followed me to the back door. There was a flurry of feathers and squawking as I passed Bluey’s cage on the porch.
“Shut up, idiot,” I snapped.
When I’d left on Christmas Eve the caravan park had been empty. Today, caravans and cars were dotted across the green spaces, children climbed on the playground and a white van trundled along the gravel park roads. Jason Redford from school hung out the open back, ringing a bell and calling, “Milko.”
As I reached the Gregorys’ back step, Barry pushed the flywire door open.
“You’re early.”
“Figured there’d be a lot to do.”
His gaze rested on my face. “What happened?”
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