Wildflower Ridge Page 10

  Penny shook her head with a wry smile, rereading both letters. It was on the tip of her tongue to mention the engagement ring, but she held back. ‘I would tell him to pop the postcards in an envelope, but he’s not exactly easy to catch on the phone. Fancy a glass of wine, Angie? I feel like celebrating.’

  ‘I’ve got Zumba class tonight. Have to work off all those biscuits you keep forcing me to sample. I’m so thrilled you’ve rediscovered baking, Pen. I’ll miss your delicacies when you leave.’ Angie smiled wistfully. ‘And I’ll miss you too, Pen.’

  Penny looked at her little sister, recalling an overwhelming and teary version of a similar conversation fifteen years earlier. She placed a hand on Angie’s arm.

  ‘I love it back in Melbourne, Angie. It’s what Mum wanted for me. I’ll be able to ace that promotion now I’m back to full strength. Plan a future with Vince. But I promise to visit more often.’

  ‘You’d better. Make sure you enjoy these last few weeks then, hey? As entertaining as it is watching you and Lara try to ignore each other, maybe you should patch things up before you head off? That rumour mill just won’t let up. She needs us now more than ever.’

  One look at Angie’s solemn face and the sarcastic reply fizzled away on Penny’s tongue. First Dad and now Angie trying to get her to mend fences. She squeezed Angie’s arm.

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  A kookaburra perched on the power line, laughing while keeping a close watch on the pair of octogenarians, several seventy-year-olds and one thirty-three-year-old walking laps around the town centre—their new pre-yoga warm-up. The conversation was as light as the walking pace, and Penny was grateful for the way the older women had welcomed her into their group.

  ‘I hear your love letters are steaming up the post office windows, Missy.’ Merryl grinned, waving to the sole car driving along Bridgefield’s main street.

  Penny laughed and her hand reached for the necklace that had arrived in the mail yesterday. Vince had chosen a delicate love heart pendant on a long silver chain. Lara had called in to the farmhouse just as she was unwrapping the gift, and although Penny had tried not to rise to her sister’s barb about gifts equating to guilt, it had taken the shine off the gesture.

  ‘I’d hardly call them steamy, Merryl, but it’s nice to know he’s thinking of me.’

  They rounded the corner by the general store.

  ‘Oh, to be young and loved up. Those city boys know how to woo a woman, don’t they, Pearl?’

  Penny watched Nanna Pearl unzip her fuchsia hoody. Today’s T-shirt said: ‘CWA—Chicks With Attitude’. The older woman patted her tightly curled hair and tossed a surreptitious glance in Penny’s direction.

  ‘I don’t know, Merryl. Give me a country bloke any day. There’s a lot to be said for integrity and good old-fashioned hard work, don’t you think?’

  Penny lay facedown on the floor. Her arms were stretched out in front of her, knees tucked under her belly and forehead resting on the yoga mat. Inhaling through her nose, she let the breath inflate her lungs and gently expand her ribcage, enjoying the peaceful moment.

  ‘Moving out of child’s pose and onto all fours for a cat and cow,’ called their willowy instructor.

  Sucking her stomach up to the ceiling, Penny bowed her head. At least I can tell Dr Sinclair I followed her advice. Yoga twice a week—check. Quiet fiction reading that barely stimulates my brain—check. Gentle walks outdoors—check. Limited social media and zero communication with work—check. Age and Herald Sun subscription swapped for the tiny local newspaper—check. Good food and plenty of rest—check. Baking therapy classes—check. Surely she’ll be happy with that update.

  Everyone groaned as the instructor led them into a sustained plank position. Penny felt her muscles shake from the strain, and where she would have once fought vainly to maintain the pose, she gave in to the tremors and lay down on her mat.

  ‘Are you really going to let yourself be out-planked by a seventy-year-old?’

  Penny turned to her left, finding herself just centimetres from the neon-green backside of Olive. She hadn’t taken to the pre-yoga walks, but she never missed the twice-weekly classes.

  ‘Olive, you’re way too strong for a spring chicken like me,’ Penny protested.

  ‘Practice makes perfect, Missy; you’ll get stronger if you do it every day,’ she said.

  ‘I think there’s something else I’d rather do every day,’ called a voice from the front of the class. The room erupted with laughter, several of the ladies lost concentration and collapsed onto their mats as they guffawed raucously.

  ‘I did not need that image in my head,’ replied Penny, scrunching up her nose at the idea of her elderly classmates having a sex life, especially one more active than hers.

  ‘What, don’t you think we still do it? Those little blue pills Max got from the doctor are worth their weight in gold,’ crowed another lady, delighted to send the class into another wave of laughter before the teacher hushed them all and directed them into warrior pose.

  Penny shook her head. She would miss the cheerful and sometimes surprisingly lewd banter in these classes. I only hope I’ve got as much spunk when I’m that age, she thought. That is, if I make it to that age … The notion of her precarious health, and the risks she took in spite of it, prickled at her conscience like the swarm of mosquitoes at Tough Mudder, nipping and biting all over. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she broke her yoga pose to take a sip from her water bottle.

  ‘Use it or lose it, that’s what I say, Missy,’ called Olive with a wink.

  ‘Oh shush, Olive. She doesn’t need you rubbing her nose in it,’ came Pearl’s voice from the opposite side of the room.

  Penny felt a wave of gratitude for Tim’s grandmother, who seemed to be the only one willing to pull the class back into line when the discussions began to dominate the exercise.

  But Olive clung to the topic like a pit bull. ‘I think she needs all the advice she can get, Pearl. What, with those pictures all over Facebook. I could barely believe it when Mrs Beggs showed me how to search for people on social media. Face-stalking, she called it,’ crowed the old lady.

  Several sharp breaths echoed around the room; even the yoga instructor went silent as everyone turned to Penny.

  Penny laughed uncertainly. What on earth was Olive talking about? Surely the woman was confused. Vince didn’t even have a Facebook account. She turned slowly, unsure if she wanted to know the answer to the question forming on her lips.

  ‘What pictures?’

  Olive’s warrior pose wavered as she glanced from Penny to the group, then back to Penny. Her expression was hesitant now, her false teeth disappearing as she chewed her lip.

  ‘You know, the ones on Facebook? Your boyfriend with that girl Charlotte? Better hang onto him, not like your sister and Sam Kingsley.’

  Penny dropped down onto her mat, silently taking in the news as her head adjusted to the abrupt change in position. She felt a dozen eyes boring into her back as she tried to dismiss the snippet of gossip. Her arms shook as she pushed herself up off the mat and resumed warrior position. Vince wouldn’t dare, would he? Not after last time …

  Twenty-one

  The mobile phone vibrated in irritation. Wrong password. Again. Darn it. Penny thumped the yoga mat down on a chair and leaned against the island bench, trying to crack Evie’s password. Evie10? Nope. Hercules? Evie2019? AuntyPenny? Nope. Nope. Nope. She blew out a frustrated breath and ran her fingers through her hair. What type of password would a ten-year-old choose?

  ‘Penny for your thoughts?’

  Angus’s quiet voice made her jump, and she looked guiltily at the phone clutched in her hand.

  ‘Dad, I didn’t know you were home.’

  ‘Just about to head out, check the stock before morning smoko. Keen for a spin?’

  Penny screwed up her nose, her head thundering with different replies. No, I’ve got a zillion password combinations to try so I can break into my social m
edia account and see if my boyfriend is messing around on me. Ask me in an hour when I’ve got enough evidence to prove Olive wrong.

  She looked up, the ‘no’ falling short as she took in his hopeful expression. Enjoy your last few weeks. The golden rays of afternoon sun danced on the paddocks outside, the Grampians beyond beckoning her to soak up the final offerings of country living. A strange feeling squeezed her chest tight, different from the Ross River fever aches that had taken hold of her body. Don’t pay Olive any notice. It’s probably a storm in a teacup, anyway.

  ‘Yeah, I’m just chasing my tail here. I’ll get a coat.’

  Penny rounded the corner of the paddock, her mind on Vince instead of the track ahead. She pumped the brakes as the ute pitched low into a divot. Angus winced as he bumped his head.

  ‘Steady on, Penny. Anyone would think you’d forgotten the lay of the land.’

  ‘Sorry, Dad. It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Too long.’

  She pursed her lips, wondering whether she should remind him that her time at the farm was almost up.

  ‘Seems like only yesterday you were hooning around the paddocks on the motorbike, making me lists of fences needing repairs, water troughs with slow leaks, details on which crops were being hammered by galahs, and your grand plans for the place.’

  She pushed away the nagging worries about Vince and smiled at the memory, slowing down as they approached a gate.

  The rusty ute door creaked open and Angus slid out to unlatch it. He swung his frame back into the seat.

  ‘So, does your fella Vince like animals? Reckon he’d ever be interested in this old place?’

  Penny pondered the deliberately casual question as she nosed the vehicle ahead.

  ‘Well, I haven’t heard from him much since I’ve been away, but he’s about as metro as they come,’ she said, putting the brakes on both the ute and the discussion as Angus hopped out to close the gate.

  A gust whipped in through the open door and Penny pulled the thick beanie down low over her ears. They were at the southernmost end of the property now and the breeze was steady up on the higher ground. The gum shelterbelts whispered their secrets in the wind, their eucalyptus perfume floating through the air. A kookaburra called in the distance, its laugh answered with an echo from the top of the nearby trees. Livestock murmured in the background.

  ‘Fair enough. But it’s a shame, Pen. I always thought you were the most likely to follow in my footsteps. You always had the right attitude towards the animals.’ He met her eye, wistful. ‘And now look at us. Miss City Girl with her highfalutin’ job humouring her old man with a trip down memory lane.’

  ‘It’s been great being home these last couple of months, but I’m settled in Melbourne, Dad,’ she said, staring straight ahead.

  ‘That’s all I want, Pen. As long as you’re happy, Vince treats you right, and your work is rewarding, then you’re on the right track. I just want you to know you’d always be welcome back home. None of the other girls are even remotely interested in running this place.’

  Penny looked away. Can I honestly say Vince makes me happy? Am I stupid to believe his promises? And why the hell isn’t he calling me back? She pictured the diamond ring again. Just the thought of it calmed the voice of doubt in her mind. Of course we’re happy. What woman wouldn’t be happy with a ring like that, an apartment in the city, an award-winning career and our jet-setting lifestyle?

  ‘I think happiness is pretty subjective, Dad. Look at Lara and Sam. Today’s yes could be tomorrow’s no, and vice-versa. I need to get back to Vince and my job, let things get back to normal, and then I’ll be happy.’

  Angus looked out the windscreen, his chin lifting as he stared at the horizon. She followed his line of sight to the rocky outcrop that marked Wildflower Ridge and wondered if he knew Annabel had urged her to choose a career other than farming. She looked from where her mother’s ashes were scattered back to her father. I was always going to upset one of them, no matter which path I chose.

  Angus twisted the radio dial. Penny tapped the accelerator and turned the ute for home.

  Twenty-two

  Penny checked the street sign and flicked her indicator on for a left-hand turn, steadying the warm banana cake as she navigated into a street full of trampolines and swing-sets. Neat little cottages segued into brick veneers and weatherboard fixer-uppers on the far side of Bridgefield’s boundaries. She counted the numbers until she came to 27 Henley Street.

  Penny leaned over the steering wheel, assessing the chipped green weatherboards and torn flyscreens in disbelief. A scraggly lawn swallowed up any semblance of a footpath from the gate to the house. She hadn’t been to Lara’s place in ages—being around her at the farmhouse was more than enough—but surely this dump wasn’t hers? Why would Lara leave the new brick house she and Sam built and move in here? And why did Angie and Diana fail to mention what a shit-heap it was when they helped her move house last week? She checked the address Diana had given her. This was it. Penny clasped the banana cake in front of her, almost like a shield instead of an intended peace offering. She walked across the yard and hesitantly pushed the doorbell. Pot plants flowered either side of the door, as if apologising for the dingy setting.

  She heard footsteps and watched through the glass panels as her sister strode into view. The strong smell of Deep Heat emerged as Lara opened the door, revealing a hallway lined with half-unpacked moving boxes. She wore lycra and held a pair of scissors in one hand and a roll of hot-pink strapping tape in the other.

  ‘Penny, I wasn’t expecting you here.’

  ‘I wanted to see Evie. And I baked you a cake to repay all those lunches you made for me when I was unwell. Thanks, by the way, and sorry things haven’t been …’

  She trailed off and shrugged her shoulders, not sure how to even describe their relationship.

  Lara studied her chunky sports watch, then looked back at her sister.

  ‘Evie’s out, but I’m sure she’ll love the cake. Thanks.’ Lara smiled stiffly as she reached for the doorhandle.

  Penny’s hopes of getting the Facebook password sank. She didn’t want Lara to know she was disregarding the doctor’s suggestion of a social media ban, but Olive’s comment at yoga was like a gremlin lurking in the back of her mind.

  ‘I’m just heading out for a run. Wanna join me on the bike?’ Lara gestured to a bicycle leaning against the battered garage and kneeled down to lace up her sneakers.

  Penny was surprised by the impromptu suggestion; the first time Lara had offered more than a strained smile or barbed comment since she’d been home. Perhaps the banana-cake olive branch worked?

  For the second time that day, Angie’s advice to make peace rang in her ears. Penny shrugged.

  ‘Why not?’

  The bicycle cogs jammed, making a metallic grinding noise as Penny eased her way up the gears until she fell into line with Lara. It had been years since she’d ridden anything other than a spin bike, and it seemed Lara’s mountain bike had taken personality cues from its owner. The chain had already slipped off twice, the fifth gear was a complete write-off and the jerky brakes needed more than a squirt of WD-40.

  They turned left at the end of the street, and within five minutes were surrounded by paddocks and hobby farms. Lara’s running shoes thudded along the gravel, broken only by the sounds of the magpies warbling and the hum of grasshoppers along the roadside. It was worlds away from the conversation-fest that characterised Penny and Jade’s gym workouts or the steady stream of tooting traffic at their outdoor boot camp sessions. As she cycled, Penny tried to imagine they were two sisters who regularly ran and rode together along quiet country roads. She looked at Lara, inscrutable behind her sunglasses and running hat. Not likely.

  The familiar landscape steadily grew greener as they neared the lake. The bike tyres rattled across the slatted surface of a narrow wooden bridge, and Penny could see a lacework of algae-strewn rocks beneath the clear, flowing water. The lake wa
s in full view as they left the bridge, emerged from the dense scrub path, and rounded a corner. Vibrant shades of pink, yellow and orange were reflected on the still water, bright enough to rival any high-visibility gym gear.

  Penny felt her body adjust to the first decent exercise she had had in months. The recent yoga classes and a few tentative swimming sessions had reinstated a snippet of her former strength, but she knew it would be a long road back to full fitness. Although she handled the brakes more than the pedals as they headed downhill, her shirt was soon as sweaty as Lara’s. ‘Evie wants you to come to her mid-year concert. At the town hall. June the seventeenth.’

  ‘June?’ Penny thought about the big black circle in the calendar. ‘I’ll be back in Melbourne by then. But I’ll make it up to her—you can send her across on the bus and I’ll take her to the theatre or something. I think there’s a new Disney production out in August.’

  Penny tried to gauge her sister’s silence with a quick sideways glance, but Lara seemed steadfastly focused on the roadside.

  ‘Listen to yourself. You’ve got such a stick up your own arse. I forgot how taxing it must be slumming it here in the boondocks.’ Lara picked up her speed to surge ahead.

  ‘I love the city, Lara. I know you don’t understand, but it’s how I like it. I’ve got a five-year plan and I’m sticking to it. Dr Sinclair is happy with my progress, work can’t wait to have me back and the apartment will be free in a few weeks.’

  She pedalled her bicycle faster so she could get a better look at Lara’s face. Her sister’s lips were pressed into a thin line.

  ‘Do you think you’re too good for us back here? Let me tell you, Penny, there ain’t nothing superior about sitting in a fancy office, wearing some swanky suit and devising ways to screw people out of their money. Angie said you’ve got it in your head that Mum wanted you to move to the city, but she just wanted you to look at all your options, not build your entire identity on becoming a corporate slave who thinks she’s better than all of us.’