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It was an article from a primary school in Darwin talking about some exhibition. The names, the references, meant nothing to me.
    I picked up another one of the small clippings. It was an action photograph from the newspaper of some kids playing soccer. I couldn’t see any faces, but they must have been five or six years old.
    Again, nothing.
    I handed that one to Ma, then I picked up another one. Smaller, older, it was a birth notice.
    Samuel Jennings, born 4 th March, 1983. Mum and son doing well.
    I read it. And read it again.
    I had no clue who that was and no idea why my father would have kept it.
    Frowning, I handed the small piece of yellowed newspaper to Ma. “I don’t know anyone by the surname Jennings.”
    That was when I really looked at Ma. Like really looked at her. She was pale, more pale than she had been, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced. Her breaths were short and quick, and when I took her hand, it was clammy.
    I took the newspaper clipping from her, and taking her hand, I pulled her to her feet. “To bed with you,” I said. “Don’t try and argue with me.”
    And she didn’t.
    Very unlike Ma, but she gave a nod. “I don’t feel the best.”
    I led her to her room, past the kitchen, where Travis stopped what he was doing and followed us. “Everything okay?” he asked.
    “Ma’s okay,” I answered, still walking slowly to the bedroom at the back of the house. “Just needs some rest.”
    “Thank you,” Ma said weakly. “I don’t want to worry anyone.”
    We got to her bed, and I pulled back the covers and waited for her to get in. “How about you let us worry about you for a change,” I said. “I’ll make you some lemon tea and get you some Panadol, yes?”
    She gave a nod, and I left the room. I walked into the kitchen, where Travis met me. “Charlie?”
    “I’ll make her some tea,” I said.
    “Did something upset her?” he asked. “What was in the second box? I know she hasn’t been well, but…”
    I shook my head. “She hasn’t been herself for a while, weeks even. Remember when she had that head cold?” I asked. “Since then.”
    I had kind of forgotten Nara was in the kitchen with us. “Mr Sutton,” she said quietly and handed me a cup of lemon tea. “I cool it down a little for her, how she likes it.”
    “Thank you,” I said. Nara smiled shyly and went back to getting lunches ready. “Nara? You’ve noticed a change in Ma?”
    The girl looked up at me as though she was almost afraid to answer. But then she nodded. “She gets real tired.”
    Travis put his hand on my shoulder. “Charlie, yesterday when Scott was here, the vet, he said the same thing.”
    “What?”
    “He said to me he didn’t realise Mrs Brown was so unwell. He said the last time he saw her was here, nearly three years ago, at your father’s funeral.” Travis swallowed hard.
    “And?”
    “And he just said it was a bit of shock to see her looking so thin and pale.”
    And so I thought back, like Scott had done, and it was really only when I remembered Ma from years ago, or even six months ago, that I could tell in my mind that no, she didn’t look too well at all.
    And I could have kicked myself for bein’ so damn blind.
    Maybe it was just a head cold like she said, but she was pale and she looked tired. She was quieter than normal, and she barely ate much at all, many of her cups of tea went untouched. She was so busy worryin’ after everyone else, and we were so busy lettin’ her, that I didn’t even notice.
    Just then the screen door banged and I knew from the sound of the steps who it was. “George,” I called out.
    He walked into the kitchen, and his eyes flickered with something I didn’t recognise. Whether it was the fact Ma wasn’t in the kitchen or the look on my face, I didn’t know.
    “Where’s Ma?”
    “She’s in bed,” I said. “George, it’s probably none of my business, but I don’t think Ma’s feeling too good. And I don’t mean just