Chapter 47

Though classes weren't officially in session, I had reading to be done. I was involved in an excessively arid tome concerning Evidence when my dad called on Sunday. They were arriving on Wednesday and would be staying at the Intercontinental for a week. I told him I was duly impressed and that we hoped to see them during their search for a suitable residence. He told me that sarcasm wasn't becoming. I said we'd see them and that I was going back to reading a text on evidence. He told me to enjoy it.

Al called to tell me I'd been wrong. Cait had told him she detested household chores and that when and if she saw his place it had best be neat. He'd taken the train in and they'd met at Newtown station, had dinner at La Ricetta and dessert at Hartsyard. He'd walked back to her residence with her and taken the train home. They'd "talked and talked" and "held hands." Cait had explained that she wanted to hold back, that she was afraid of going "too fast."

"Did you tell her about your sister-in-law?" I asked.

He confessed that he had. Cait had apparently poked him and remarked that he just wasn't the acrobatic type. He was hooked.

I told Rachel about her brother. She wasn't excited, but said she'd most likely get Cait's side tomorrow or Tuesday. I filled her in on my parents' plans.

"Where will they look?"

"I didn't ask."

"Do they want a condo like Winnie's?"

"No idea. Ask them on Wednesday or Thursday or just phone Weena now."

"You're impossible!"

"No! You're acting as though we had some responsibility in this. We don't; my mum and dad can look at places and decide without us. Actually, they might ask for an opinion, but only at the end of the process."

"Well, you might have asked!"

"I might have, but I didn't."

"Ricetta's that place with the home made pasta?" Rachel was in appeasement mode.

"Yes. And the wood-oven pizza."

"We haven't been there for a long time."

"At least a few months."

"Want to go?"

"What were you planning for dinner?"

"I wasn't. I'm not as bad as Cait seems to be, but I really didn't make any food plans."

"Isn't there something in the freezer?" I still wanted to get back to Evidence.

"There must be. But let's just go."

"Very well. But give me another hour. I really have to read this stuff."

"Italian?"

"Sure."

On Wednesday, just past 1800, mum called on my cell. "We're here. Waiting for baggage. Oops! Gordy's got mine! We'll call from the hotel." I reported to Rachel.

"Well, let's have some salad and cheese."

We were really taken aback when they phoned later. They were planning to ride the Sydney trains all day. To the north and to the west. We arranged to meet them at Kingsley's at 1900 for dinner. I made a reservation. We we puzzled, however.

When we met my parents, they seemed quite cheery. They'd ridden to Hornsby on the Northern Line, stopping to look about at Pennant Hills and Beecroft; then in on the Inner West to Strathfield, west to Parramatta, south to Glenfield; and back on the Airport and East Hills line. Mum had liked the towns to the north but not the southern areas. She was curious about the areas yet further west – like Penrith.

"That's not a bad town," Rachel said. "We went to the Fire Museum there."

"I don't get it, though. I would have thought you'd want to be close to the Museum, in the City Center."

"You're not thinking," dad responded. "What's most of Sydney going to be like in 20 or so years? It's going to be under water. Climate change is going to put nearly every Australian city under water – think of where the cities are: Adelaide, Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane, Darwin, Perth are all on the coast. Only Canberra and the Alice are inland. At worst, the water will be tens of meters higher than it is by mid-century. Where Winnie lives will be wet up to the third or fourth floor. Her best investment would be a motorboat to hang on davits from her balcony."

"Oh. That's depressing."

"It is." He looked at Rachel. "Chaz has been warning folks since you were a babe in arms. It's done no good. True, the water hasn't gone up dramatically. But the storms and the fires have been getting worse. And we've all seen pictures of chunks floating away from the ice sheet. Those are the area of several football fields each. What if the Ross Shelf goes?"

"Calm down dear," said mum.

"Yes, dear. Just remember: the highest point in Sydney is about 42 meters above mean sea level. That's all." He went back to his steak.

Mum asked Rachel about her work at the Gallery and that got us onto a totally different topic. They chatted for a while and I enquired: "Mum, what are you going to do?"

"Keep house."

"Nonsense! You wouldn't be content for six months! I'll bet you've been itching to do something ever since Sarah went to ECU."

"Well, maybe not itching. But, yes. I'd like to do something. If we're in the north, maybe I'll see whether Macquarie has a nursing school or a university hospital."