21
Yet again Paul was on the road to Canberra. The real estate agent had called earlier in the week and said they had a buyer.
Paul reached into the glovebox and pulled out his sunglasses. It was a spring-like day plonked into winter, and the whole weekend had a terrific weather forecast. He wasn’t going to waste it.
The family and the agent had agreed to sign the papers at eight on Friday evening, allowing him to fit in a trip to the Snowy Mountains. He still hadn’t decided what to do about his father. Maybe a long walk in the snow would clear his head.
By leaving Canberra at four-thirty in the morning, he’d avoided the traffic and managed to get the first Skitube and hotel transport of the day. He’d left some of his gear at his hotel and been on his way by ten. Ahead of him, a group
