‘In the valley?’ She’d said. ‘How can you own land in the valley? There is no valley, it’s all gone. I thought the place where you grew up was underwater now.’
‘Its near the valley,’ Brendan told her, feeling tired and exasperated. Sometimes Wiloma was as dense as a tree. ‘Near the valley, adjoining the valley, the land your grandfather owned on the ridge – you lived there. Don’t you remember it?’
She’d stared at him blankly. ‘I was eight’ she said. ‘When Mom and Dad were killed. You expect me to remember everything?’
‘Something – don’t you remember anything?’
‘I remember the cabin, sort of. I remember Mom listening to the radio and acting stranger and stranger. I remember the day Dad came home from the war.’ She had paused and looked over the wall. ‘I remember the night they were killed. You were gone.’