CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Half the day had sped by. Still bugger all to show for it. Franklin weighed hanging around longer at the footy ground, visiting more of Alec and Bel’s friends, or Stephen Murray in Ballan.
The peal of his phone interrupted.
‘Mr Franklin?’
He recognised the speaker. ‘Mrs Tesorino. How’s Sam?’
‘She’s not so good.’
His dread grew in her pause.
‘But doctors are making her steadier.’
He breathed out. ‘Thank goodness.’
‘Sì, yes.’
A thick drop wet his nose. Franklin swiped at it, and glancing up was surprised by the heavy, granite-grey clouds gathered above. Thunder rumbled, swelling to a loud growl. The earth trembled under his boots.
‘She has an infection, so her lungs aren’t so good. But we keep believing. She’s a strong girl, our Samanta, sì?’
‘Has she woken up
