The Lost Swimmer by Ann Turner Page A

more tears seeped out. I prayed I could believe him as he kissed my lips softly and I tasted his sweet breath.
    â€˜You should rest, the doctor gave you a heavy painkiller.’ As he stroked my brow sleep nibbled at the edges of my mind, even as I tried to resist.
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    The morning was fresh and cool, with the promise of autumn. Big Boy walked shakily into the room and for the first time I felt fear as our eyes met. The dog lowered his head, about to growl. Tentatively, I reached out my hand, ignoring the fire running up my arm from his deep puncture wound. For a moment nothing happened. Stephen stood quietly behind, watchful. Then Big Boy’s tail started frantically beating from side to side, he let out a yelp and came stiffly dancing over, crabbing about, twisting like a worm as he barked happily. He was bandaged in several places. We looked like twins. Stephen lifted him up onto the bed and the three of us lay together, listening to the raucous laughter of kookaburras rippling through the bush.
    I nestled into Stephen as best I could with my aching ribs and Big Boy pushed gently against my body, stretching to his full length so he was almost as long as me.
    â€˜The gang’s all here,’ I murmured, and fell back into the deepest sleep.
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    â€˜My god, Mum.’
    I woke to Erin gently touching the wounds on my face. ‘The kangaroo sure made a mess of you.’ She picked up my arm and I winced. ‘And is this what Big Boy did?’ The dog lay looking up at Erin, grinning. ‘You both look terrible.’ She gently stroked the soft white hair on Big Boy’s belly.
    â€˜I don’t know what got into him. He went berserk.’
    â€˜He is a dog. It must have been some sort of instinct. Not to bite you, though.’
    â€˜He didn’t mean to do that,’ I said.
    Every time I moved, my ribs flared in agony. ‘Is Dad here?’
    â€˜He’s at work. It’s three in the afternoon.’
    â€˜The painkillers knock me out.’
    â€˜You’re awake.’ James stuck his head through the doorway. ‘Cup of tea?’
    â€˜You’re here too? Or am I dreaming?’
    â€˜I’ll make you a cup of tea.’ James disappeared and Erin tucked the sheet around me, her impish face lined with concern.
    â€˜Don’t you have pressing deadlines? You shouldn’t be wasting time with me.’
    â€˜We’re just staying for dinner, Mum. I’m cooking. Then James will drive us home.’
    â€˜When was it you grew up so fast?’ I said gratefully. ‘Are you still seeing Jeremy?’
    Erin shrugged. ‘A bit. Not much.’ She started fussing with the wound on my arm, clearly not wanting to talk about it. ‘I just can’t imagine Big Boy doing this. And that poor joey and mother.’
    â€˜Thank goodness they’re all right . . .’ My voice trailed off. I felt guilty. ‘Big Boy probably saved my life,’ I said.
    â€˜Even if he was the one who put it at risk in the first place,’ said Erin.
    Big Boy barked twice, tail flying back and forth.
    â€˜I should have had him on the leash,’ I said. ‘It was my fault.’
    â€˜Don’t be so hard on yourself, Mum.’ James deposited the tea and sat at my feet. I rested back into the pillows and gave them a blow-by-blow description, wondering if I was inventing things; shock had blurred my memory of the evening, except for the moment when the dog I trusted implicitly had turned on me.
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    One week later I could get up, dosed on painkillers and anti-inflammatory pills. It felt like knives slicing through me as I walked, but once Stephen had left for the day, I went to my computer and trawled through the accounts.
    I approached the task as I would a dig – carefully sifting through all that was there in the hope of discovering what had