Bottlebrush Creek Read online

  Praise for Maya Linnell and Wildflower Ridge

  Shortlisted for Favourite Australian Romance

  Author, Favourite Debut Romance Author

  and Favourite Small Town Romance in the

  Australian Romance Readers Awards 2019

  ‘A sparkling entry into the rural romance arena.’ Canberra Weekly

  ‘You’ll devour this rural read in one go.’ New Idea

  ‘Very authentic rural flavour, a surprise fast-paced ending, shows you can’t deny what’s in your heart.’ Australian Romance Readers Association

  ‘I lost myself in Wildflower Ridge. A beautiful novel, full of love, fun, excitement, cooking and country flair.’ Kym, Good Reads

  ‘My favourite romance of 2019. A masterful and moving tale … her writing is flawless and very believable. Can’t wait to see what’s next!’ SHE Society

  ‘Idyllic … Maya Linnell tells a good yarn.’ Ruth magazine—Queensland CWA

  ‘To say it was a great read is an understatement! For a debut novelist I was so impressed with her style of writing and felt totally invested in the characters within. I’m so pleased another quality Australian author has arrived!’ Janine, librarian and Good Reads reviewer

  ‘Beautifully written with strong characters and a true depiction of life on a farm with all its trials, tribulations … love, family and laughter. I loved this book and didn’t want it to end.’ Beauty & Lace

  ‘Wildflower Ridge made excellent beach reading, and would be the perfect companion to curl up with by the fire for some cosy winter reading too. I’m looking forward to seeing what Maya’s got in store for us (and the McIntyre girls!) next!’ Bookish Bron (blog)

  ‘Five stars—a great addition to the rural family fiction with a dash of romance, a sophisticated plot, very convincing characters … a book you can’t pass up.’ Happy Valley Books

  ‘I’m only new to Australian rural romance, but I don’t know why! All the eucalyptus, the scones and “raiding the tucker tent” I loved it! I can’t wait for the next Maya Linnell novel.’ Anna’s Bookstore

  ‘Rural fiction at its finest and most immersive. A ripper of a yarn, and a bloody good debut.’ Alyce, Good Reads

  ‘What a fabulous debut. Moving and heartfelt … this one was a page turner. Five stars.’ Helen, Family Saga Blogspot

  ‘A book of love, life, friendship, community and hard yakka … told with plenty of heart and lashings of authenticity.’ Mrs B’s Book Reviews

  ‘Sit out on the deck with a cup of tea, baked goods at the ready, and enjoy every moment of this remarkable novel. Rural fiction at its best.’ DelBookGirl

  ‘Familiar, comforting and warm—perfect for a winter’s day read in front of the fire.’ Blue Wolf Reviews

  Maya Linnell was recently shortlisted as the ARRA 2019 Favourite Australian Romance Author for her rural romance debut Wildflower Ridge. Bottlebrush Creek is her second novel, and both stories gather inspiration from her rural upbringing and the small communities she has always lived in and loved. A former country journalist and PR writer, Maya now prefers the world of fiction over fact, and blogs for Romance Writers of Australia. She loves baking up a storm, tending to her rambling garden, and raising three little bookworms. Maya lives on a small property in country Victoria with her family, her menagerie of farm animals and the odd snake or two. Find her online at www.mayalinnell.com or follow her on Instagram or Facebook maya.linnell.writes

  First published in 2020

  Copyright © 2020 Maya Linnell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  ISBN 978 1 76052 981 9

  eISBN 978 1 76087 433 9

  Set by Bookhouse, Sydney

  Cover design: Nada Backovic

  Cover photos: Getty Images

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  Forty-two

  Forty-three

  Forty-four

  Forty-five

  Forty-six

  Forty-seven

  Forty-eight

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  To Jason, my owner–builder fella.

  For building a life, a family and a house with me, and helping me build my author dream, one chapter at a time.

  One

  Angie McIntyre dusted her hands on the polka-dotted apron, opened the oven and groaned. Instead of a gush of hot air that normally sent her curls into ringlets, it was cold in the dark and silent cavity. Not again. She twisted the temperamental temperature dial left and right, but no matter how hard she willed it to work, the oven didn’t so much as hum.

  Angie slammed the door shut and surveyed the mess in front of her. Clearing the bench full of ingredients would be easy enough but the cake would be ruined if she didn’t get it into a hot oven soon.

  The sound of her mobile ringtone cut through the quiet kitchen. As she hunted for it on the benchtop, a pile of magazines slipped to the ground. The glossy pics of grand kitchens and elaborate bathrooms fanned out across the floor, mocking the cramped space.

  A cold breeze followed Angie down the corridor as she went in search of her phone. No amount of gap-filler had yet fixed the endless draughts in the sixties brick veneer, and pigs would fly before the landlord would make good on his promises to bring their Eden Creek rental into the twenty-first century.

  Two little feet poked out from beneath the king-sized bed. Angie could hear snatches of conversation.

  ‘Claudia Isobel Jones. Do you have Mummy’s phone?’

  Claudia’s pink socks retreated, quickly replaced by a shock of blonde curls and the cheekiest grin this side of the South Australian border. Angie raised her eyebrows. The little girl handed over the phone, adding a handful of fluff-covered sultanas into Angie’s outstretched palm for good measure, then ran down the hallway in a blur of sequins to escape a scolding.

  ‘Rob?’

  ‘Hey Ange, wondered how long it’d be till you realised she’d pinched your phone.’

  ‘She gets t
hat from you, sassy thing.’

  ‘Fat chance of cheekiness being allowed in the Jones family. Must be the McIntyre in her,’ he laughed. ‘So, fancy a drive this arvo?’

  ‘A drive? You’ll have been travelling since 4 a.m. What happened to our quiet night in when you get home?’ Angie frowned. Her chances of pulling off this impromptu birthday party were getting slimmer by the minute.

  Rob laughed again. ‘Thought you’d like a surprise, so get the … ready … home …’ His voice faded in and out before the reception failed altogether.

  ‘Rob? Hello … ?’ Angie stared at the beeping phone. I’m the one planning the surprise around here …

  Back in the kitchen, she twisted the oven dial one last time. Still nothing. She hated the idea of letting Rob’s birthday pass without a homemade cake and racked her brain for a Plan B.

  ‘C’mon, Claud. Let’s go next door and ask if we can borrow their oven again. Then it’s tidying up time.’ With the brimming cake tin in one hand, and Claudia’s little fingers in the other, she glanced around the cramped rental. It was barely big enough for a couple, let alone a family, but if she gave the place a quick tidy while the cake baked and popped a few candles on, they’d have everything they needed to celebrate Rob’s birthday.

  The landscape of western Victoria whipped past the windscreen in a green blur. Freshly shorn sheep dotted the paddocks, their bright white wool catching the sunlight like coconut on a lamington, but Angie couldn’t drag her eyes away from Rob Jones.

  Rob’s height was always more pronounced in her little hatchback. His dark hair almost touched the car roof and his legs were cramped underneath the steering wheel.

  He’d barely stopped to take a breath since he’d pulled into the driveway, dumped his backpack on the porch, whisked them outside and pointed the car towards the coast.

  ‘There’s enough land to crop and run cattle. The bones of the place are sound. Owners upgraded the wiring a few years ago, so it’s not a death trap like all the other houses we’ve looked at,’ said Rob, his animated gaze switching between the road and her. ‘Deadset winner!’

  Angie couldn’t help laughing. ‘You’ve said that about every old place we’ve seen. Remember last time you were home? That dive in Macarthur? The real estate guy had to catch the front door when it fell off its hinges. And the floorboards in that “renovator’s delight” in Allansford had more termites than timber.’

  Angie smoothed the newspaper clipping in her lap. Rob had waved it around like a winning lottery ticket when he’d arrived home. With four bedrooms, two living areas and acreage, there’d be ample room, but by the look of the photograph, there was a lot of hard yakka required.

  ‘They’ve used the phrase “fixer-upper” twice. That’s code for downright awful.’

  Rob took his large hand off the steering wheel to squeeze her knee. ‘Wouldn’t stay that way for long with the two of us on site.’

  Small country towns blurred into one another as Rob took them down unfamiliar back roads and single-lane tracks. The ocean glimmered in the distance, and after two hour’s driving they finally arrived in front of the weatherboard cottage.

  ‘Perfect, or what?’

  Angie felt a surge of excitement as she studied the building. It was even more derelict in the bright spring sunshine than the photograph had suggested, but the ornate latticework and wide verandah offered an air of elegance. Even in its state of disrepair, she could see the cottage had once been someone’s pride and joy.

  She looked back at the advertisement, feeling the need to balance Rob’s excitement. She was normally the one who rushed into things, yet Rob looked like he was about to whip out his wallet and lay down a deposit as soon as she gave the nod.

  ‘Better than the others we’ve seen,’ she said cautiously. ‘Probably miles outside our price range, though.’

  Rob tapped his nose as he unbuckled Claudia from the back seat. ‘Motivated seller, apparently.’

  He grabbed Angie’s hand, almost dragging her down the driveway. The smell of wisteria and jasmine wafted up from the neglected garden. Overgrown rose tendrils snagged Angie’s jeans as she followed the path to the house. The newspaper photograph must have been taken years before, or strategically cropped so that the wild garden beds and piles of rubbish at the side of the yard were out of shot. The lawns had been given free rein, growing knee-high and creeping up onto the path around the cottage. Even so, just as she’d been drawn to the black-and-white photo in the ad, Angie found herself gravitating towards the old building.

  ‘Here’s the agent now,’ said Rob.

  Angie stuck out her hand but the agent leaned in to kiss her on the cheek before slapping Rob on the back. ‘Good to see you, Jonesy! And Angie, I’ve heard so much about you and this little cutie.’ He tweaked Claudia’s nose. ‘What a great opportunity, hey?’

  Angie lifted an eyebrow as the man shoved a key into the front door. Friendliest real estate agent she’d ever met. Rob took her hand and they slipped inside.

  They went from room to room. The high ceilings and generous windows made the cottage feel spacious, and even with furniture, there’d be oodles of room for hide-and-seek, plus enough floor space for those oversized jigsaw puzzles Claudia loved and maybe two sofas, instead of the two-seater they’d made do with in Eden Creek. Sunshine streamed in through dirty windows and dust motes danced. Angie swooned when she saw the ornate ceiling roses in the lounge room, and more in the smaller bedroom, which would be perfect for Claudia.

  The real estate agent noticed Rob admiring the open fireplace and launched into his sales pitch. ‘Winters snuggled up in front of the wood-fire, summers at the beach down the end of the lane. What more could you want? There’s even a creek at the back of the property, if you fancy some eel trapping,’ he said.

  Angie almost caught herself nodding, and strode out of the room. The floral carpets in the bedrooms would need to go, and most of the bathroom fittings and cabinetry.

  Angie tried to remain impartial, willing herself to find fault with the pressed-tin kitchen ceiling, cracked foot-high skirting boards and worn floorboards. But after half an hour inside, the cottage had an undeniable hold on her. The features she loved steadily outweighed the cons. She could picture them here as a family. It felt like they’d found their new home.

  Angie buckled a tired Claudia into the car seat, watching her daughter’s eyelids flutter close. She joined Rob and the real estate agent in a surreal conversation about timelines and deposit options, unable to believe that they may have finally found their dream cottage. Enough land to run a few cattle. Close to the ocean. With a little orchard. Room to plant a weeping cherry tree in memory of her mum, Annabel. The perfect place to turn Claudia into a little green thumb, and, maybe one day, expand their little family.

  ‘Cooooeee.’

  Angie swivelled towards the familiar voice. No, it can’t be …

  ‘Yoo hoo. Is that the birthday boy and his beautiful girls?’

  It wasn’t until Angie spotted Rosa Jones striding across the paddock that she noticed the black-and-white Friesian cows, and the thick bottlebrush hedges that camouflaged the neighbouring property. She flashed Rob a look of disbelief and sucked in a sharp breath. What is his mother doing here?

  Angie barely had time to comprehend the situation before she was squeezed in a vice-like hug, complete with back pats, murmurs of delight and the scent of roses.

  ‘Oh Angie, isn’t this great? I’ve barely slept a wink.’

  Okay, how did Rosa know about this before me?

  The real estate agent drove off with a toot and a wave. Rob strode over to his mum, his tall frame dwarfing Rosa as she gave him a tight squeeze. They shared the same black wavy hair and olive skin, but Rob had definitely inherited his father’s height.

  ‘What did you think? And where’s my beautiful granddaughter?’

  ‘Mum, she’s aslee—’

  Rosa yanked the back door open. A sharp cry escaped from the car. Angie and Rob bo
th grimaced.

  ‘Oops, Granny woke you up. Let’s get you out of that seat, poppet.’ Rosa fumbled with the five-point harness. ‘I’ve got some beautiful new calves to show you.’

  Claudia shook her head mutinously. Angie knew exactly how she felt.

  ‘Here, Mum, let me.’ Rob squeezed in and lifted Claudia out.

  Rosa stepped in closer. ‘Granny’s missed you, poppet. And haven’t you grown tall!’

  Standing on tiptoe, Angie whispered to Rob. ‘It’s within walking distance of the dairy? How could you not mention that?’

  ‘Would you’ve come?’

  Angie groaned, now spying the Jones’s dairy and farmhouse further down the road. Of all the fixer-uppers in the country, had she just fallen in love with the one right next door to his folks?

  Two

  Rob watched Angie’s face for a sign, hoping she wasn’t going to discard the entire prospect on the basis of the neighbours.

  ‘Don’t write it off yet,’ he whispered, landing a kiss on Angie’s cheek. Keeping their arrival time a secret from his mother and driving in the back way clearly hadn’t helped one bit; Rosa had probably been watching Enderby Lane all afternoon.

  ‘I couldn’t help hearing voices while I was out pruning my David Austins. You’re coming round for dinner, aren’t you?’ Rosa said.

  Rob waited for Angie’s response. He’d thrashed the pants off her in enough games of strip poker to know she was wearing her polite smile, not her ‘What a fabulous idea!’ smile.

  ‘When Rob said the property was by the coast, I didn’t realise it was quite so close to your house. I’ve made … Well, we’ve got plans tonight, that’s all,’ said Angie, apologetically.

  Rob put an arm around Rosa’s tiny shoulders to soften the blow, but her face still plummeted. ‘Oh … right, of course … I’ll just pop your present in the post then. Chickens will be happy with a bit of sponge cake tomorrow.’

  Rob shot Angie an appeasing look. She knew as well as he did that their visits were few and far between, even though they only lived 200 kilometres away. Didn’t seem to worry his father, but barely a week passed without his mum inviting them around or reminding him she was free to babysit whenever they needed. Making excuses was always easier over the phone, or when he was working 4000 kilometres away at the mine.