Pictures of Lily

Now towering above me, but not menacingly, Roy puts one paw on my forearm so I open up the bag and feed him another handful from my sitting position. After a while he loses interest, but doesn’t hop away. I put my arm around his soft, furry back and pat him, contentment washing over me. This is nice. I could stay here all day in the shade of this tree.
    I glance up. Those hefty branches could hold a good-sized tree-house. I could stay here for weeks, in fact. I wouldn’t mind this, living here with the roos. Just then, I see something move out of the corner of my eye and spy two emus stalking the boundary fence. I couldn’t live with them though. Roy turns to me and sniffs at my nose before looking away again. I giggle. I hear the grass rustling behind me and warily turn around, praying it isn’t the feathered fiends. I sigh with relief as I see Ben approaching.
    ‘You look pretty cosy there,’ he calls as he gets nearer. Roy slowly hops towards him. Traitor. ‘Hello, Freddie,’ Ben says affectionately, rubbing the kangaroo’s neck.
    ‘Freddie?’ I say. ‘I thought he was called Roy.’
    ‘Roy?’ Ben looks confused as he reaches me. ‘Who told you that?’
    ‘I kind of named him that myself,’ I admit.
    He chuckles and sits down on the grass next to me. ‘Roy suits him better.’
    ‘Who was Freddie? That is, assuming he was named after someone.’
    ‘Yep, you’re right. Freddie was a German exchange student doing work experience here a few years ago. Before my time.’
    ‘Oh, right. How long have you worked here?’
    ‘Two years in January.’
    ‘And before that?’
    ‘Sydney Zoo.’
    ‘You lived in Sydney?’
    ‘No, I commuted from Adelaide. It’s only a two-and-a-half-hour flight.’
    I stare at him in confusion.
    ‘I’m joking.’ He playfully punches my arm. ‘Yes, I used to live in Sydney.’
    I tut. ‘Okay, so that was a stupid question. What’s Sydney like?’
    ‘It’s great.’
    ‘Better than Adelaide?’
    ‘Just different. It’s got a good vibe, but Adelaide’s home.’
    ‘Is this where you grew up?’
    ‘Yep. Mount Barker Primary School followed by Mount Barker High, then Adelaide University. I’m a local boy through and through.’
    ‘Why did you move to Sydney?’ I continue my interrogation.
    ‘Felt like a change after uni.’
    ‘Then why did you come back?’ I persist.
    ‘My nan fell ill. My mum lives in Perth. She doesn’t get along with her mum anyway so I got a job here and came back to keep Nan company.’
    ‘That was nice of you.’
    He shrugs. ‘I liked my nan. A whole lot more than I like my mum, in any case.’
    ‘Why don’t you like your mum?’
    ‘She’s a very selfish woman. Always has been. She didn’t want kids. I was a mistake and she made sure I knew it.’
    ‘That’s awful.’ His tone is flippant, but I still feel on edge. ‘What about your dad?’ I ask hopefully.
    ‘Who knows?’ He laughs a brittle laugh. ‘Never knew him. I sometimes wonder if my mum even knows who he is.’
    I stare at him, shocked. And I thought I had it bad. He gives me a wry smile.
    ‘Is your nan still around?’ I ask quietly.
    ‘Nope.’ He gets to his feet. ‘She passed away in the winter.’
    ‘I’m sorry.’ It sounds weak, but no other words come to mind.
    ‘Thanks,’ he replies. Then: ‘I have to check over the roos. Want to help me?’
    ‘I’d love to.’ I quickly stand and dust myself off. ‘What do I have to do?’
    ‘Check them over for any swellings, lameness, drooling, weepy eyes . . . We’re mostly monitoring for lumpy jaw.’
    ‘What’s lumpy jaw?’
    ‘A condition that causes abscesses on or near the jaw. It’s caused by an infection.’
    ‘Is it serious?’
    ‘Usually we can remove an infected tooth and give them antibiotics. It’s very important not to feed them any soft fruit. No bananas or pears. They need crunchy carrots and sweet potatoes, that sort of thing.’
    ‘Interesting,’ I comment and he smiles at me.
    ‘You can help me with the headcount,’ he says.
    One, two, three . . . I silently count them in my head. ‘Twenty-five,’ I determine as Ben gets on with checking over the roos.
    ‘There should be twenty-six,’ he says.
    ‘Twenty-six?’ My eyes scan the paddock.
    ‘Closer,’ Ben says. He’s staring pointedly at a kangaroo sprawled out on the ground about ten metres away. I watch inquisitively as he slowly ventures towards it. ‘You’re alright, old girl,’ he says soothingly as the