"For those legs it's not a walk from my flat it's a pilgrimage."

She's sitting on a blanket in the grass, watching Winnie run around. The sun is out and almost hot, falling on green grass and changing leaves.

She grins up at him, face half-covered by dark sunglasses. "There are kids around, mate."

"You know what I do when you call me 'mate.'"

"Shame there're kids around then."

He grabs just above her knee in retaliation, and her leg jerks up as she screams.

"I will literally," she says, deadly softly. "cunt-punt you back to Australia if you tickle me again."

There's a moment of silence before they both smile. "How are you?" he kisses her cheek.

"Eh. You survived work, then?"

"Boring as hell. Hate being on call. What did you do?"

"Groceries, took Win to the kids' museum."

With a groan, he stretches out on his back, hands behind his head. "You're gonna hate winter. Let see, October now, it may not be nice like this again till April."

"Fuuuuck me."

"If it'll get you through."

She smirks up at the trees. "Cheeky bastard."

"Mummy," Winnie toddles over, something cupped in her hands. "I brought you flowers."

Wally gasps in fawned surprised. "Oh! You did! They're beautiful, thank you!" She beams at her daughter. "Can I put them in your hair? Okay, sit down. Robert, hand me the comb from my bag, will you?" he obliges, smirking. "What?"

"It's just you, being all…"

"All what, grown up?" she parts Winnie's hair slightly off center, and begins some sort of intricate braid along her crown. "Don't squirm lovey."

"But you're hurrrrting."

"D'you want me to do this or not." Win's shoulders slump as she pouts. "She pouts like you, Robert."

"I don't pout!"

"When you do you look like Winnie. Win?"

"Hm?" she's playing with a cloth doll, twisting her arms this way and that.

"Mummy used to do this for her sister."

"You have a sister?"

"Mmhmm. Your Aunty Jillie."

"Where is she?"

"She was very very sick, and she died before you were born."

"Oh." Winnie considers this with the matter-of-factness of the very young. "Was it sad?"

"Yes. It's very sad when someone you love dies."

Robert watches her, Winnie sitting between her outstretched legs. He can't see her eyes behind the dark glasses, but he knows from the set of her lips that she's trying to get back to cheerful.

"Wally," he reaches out and tweaks her toe. "Walllyyy."

"Mummmy, I wanna go play!"

"Fine!" she throws her hands up in exasperation. "Be free, ruin everything I've labored towards. I'll braid Robert's hair."

Winnie pauses on her feet, rocking. "Did you like the flowers?"

Wally's posture softens. "I loved the flowers love. No go play!"

She runs, shrieking towards the playground and the other children.

"Ugh." Wally stretches onto her stomach next to Robert, lying her forehead on his chest.

"You all right?" Her head rocks slightly beneath his palm. He tries again: "You, uh, wanna talk about it?" Again, the shake of the head. "You want me to shut-up?" No response. "Okay, this is what we're going to do." Sitting up, he moves to the other side of the blanket. "I'm going to sit like this and watch Winnie and you can come over here and take a nap."

"You should not be encouraging this behavior," she mutters, shifting to rest her head on his thigh.

"Yeah well, obviously your medicine's not working. Take off your glasses before you break them." He chuckles. "Who the hell put you in charge of a three-year old."

"Well it wasn't immaculate, I can tell you that much." she tries to backpedal over the words, knowing the leaving was her fault. "We can blame my dopamine imbalance."

he smirks. "And Grant."

To his relief, she plays along."Yes, we can also blame Grant's dealer for cutting E with poison, effectively causing his death and my decreased mental state."

"Anyone else we need to add to the list?"

"Well, it wasn't your fault, and we know I don't like taking responsibility, so…the bludger?"

"Your dad?"

"Obviously the root cause of all my problems," she says with mock seriousness.

"How's he doing, by the way?"

"No. Not know. We have six months of winter before us to talk about my father, we will not give him the blessing of this sunny day."

"Six months?" Robert makes a quizzical face. "I was planning on sticking around for tonight then booking. Two night stand."

"Three days, two nights? What am I, a budget cruise? Don't answer that. Let's play a game."

"What game?"

"You know exactly what game."

"Okay…uh, 'I'm curious about crocs too but I don't go sticking my head in their mouths.'"

A choking laugh comes from Wally's mouth. "'So this boomer just comes out of the bush.'"

"'And this sheila-'"

"Whoa, whoa!" she sits up, pointing an accusing finger. "I know exactly what story you were telling and who you were quoting when you said that and so it does not count!"

"It counts! The words came out of my mouth!"

"It only counts if you said it."

"I don't have anything else!" he laughs.

"It's been three years! Anything? Nothing about the Gafa or wallabies? Nothing about poisonous animals? Have you said that you were throwing any shrimps on the barbie?"

"Who even does that?"

"Apparently it's something Australians say."

He rubs her leg as he thinks. "What can I say, Wally? You just say more stupid shit than I do."

"Hey!" she thwacks him. "How do you pick up girls then? Don't Americans jump anything with an accent?"

"Yeah, but I definitely don't use 'shrimp on the barbie' as my pick-up line." he's laughing so hard at the idea he can hardly get through the sentence, and she sets to giggling as well.

"'Why don't we go back to my place,'" she says in her best impression. "'Throw some shrimp on the barbie?'"

He regains his composure. "Sounds like a sex act." That makes her start laughing again.

"What- what would that even entail?"

"God, I don't want to know. So, you going to help me finish this crossword?"

"Give it here, ya pom."

They spend the better part of the afternoon like that, her legs thrown over his, leaning against him as they do the puzzle.

"You should go on Jeopardy," he decides.

"It's not the clues, it's the letters and the clues."

"Could kick my ass."

"I dokick your ass." She checks her watch. "I've got to get going. Winnie! Come on, time to go!" the girl abandons her game and runs over to the blanket.

"Well, can I come over later then?"

"Um…sure, I guess. If you want. I mean, you know my feelings."

"Yeah, I also know your ability to triple guess your feelings and doubt the motives behind mine."

That stung. The blanket snapped rather sharper than necessary as she folded the blanket.

"Mummy, I got a hurt." Winnie held up her hand, sniffling. A nasty red scrape adorns it.

"Oh, you do, don't you." Wally crouches. "Let me see. Mwah!" she kisses it. "All better!"

"Will I have a scar like yours?"

"I don't know Winnie," she says gravely. "You may not survive."

"Your mum's joking, Winnie," Robert pipes in. "I'm a doctor, you can trust me. Come on Wally," he helps her to her feet. "I'll see you later?"

"Only 'cause I like your ass."