Wildflower Ridge Page 6

  ‘That boy has always been a loose cannon. Angus McIntyre is a nice man, more tolerant than most, but Annabel McIntyre would turn in her grave if she knew Lara had ended up marrying Sam Kingsley.’

  Tim took another sip of his tea.

  ‘Lara keeps him on a tight leash. And no other bugger stuck up for me when Dad left town.’

  Nanna Pearl sighed, placing her cup down.

  ‘Loyalty is one thing, but that Sam has a nose for trouble.’

  Tim covered her hands with his own, easily fitting them inside his. Her ruby engagement ring pressed into the underside of his knuckles as he gave her a gentle squeeze.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Nanna. He’s all right. Now, tell me more about this yoga class you’re starting up.’

  His grandmother looked up at him, concern giving way to a mischievous glint.

  ‘We’ve already had a great response. And you’ll never guess who registered today.’

  She pulled the teacup to her lips, adding another ring of lipstick to the rim, and grinned at him.

  ‘Mrs Beggs from the general store?’

  He watched her eyes dance with amusement. Her coral lips pursed.

  ‘Don’t make me spray hot tea across my favourite tablecloth. Mrs Beggs wouldn’t fit on a yoga mat, darling. No. We’ve got a young one signed up. Someone you know quite well.’

  She dabbed her lips with a floral napkin and reached into a stack of crosswords and mail, sliding a formal portrait from the pile.

  Tim stared down at the gawky teenager in a second-hand suit, unsure where to hold his hands. He instinctively reached up and touched the scar on his chin, now faded. When the photo had been taken, the scar was still fresh—an angry red line of freshly split skin. Standing next to him, in a white debutante dress with all the beauty of a young bride, stood Penny McIntyre. He pushed the photograph back towards Nanna Pearl and gulped another mouthful of tea. Last thing he needed was a lavender-haired Cupid getting the wrong idea.

  Twelve

  Penny eased her way down the staircase. The coolness of downstairs washed over her like a sea breeze by the time she reached the bottom step.

  The unseasonably erratic weather continued, with autumn now turning her bedroom into a hot box. She wiped her forehead with a sweaty hand. The last time she’d been this hot was the feverish days before her collapse, when a sheen of perspiration had made her make-up slide from her face by midday, requiring regular touch-ups in the workplace bathroom. Penny padded across the quiet kitchen, glancing at the clock. Dad and Tim will be in soon—grab a new jug of water and get back upstairs before they come in.

  She tried her best to stay upstairs when Tim came in for lunch and smoko. It was just too weird. The exception she’d made a few nights ago, when Diana and the boys had invited Tim and Eddie around for dinner, had been an exercise in awkwardness. Both of them looking away automatically when their eyes met, the forced politeness that so strongly contrasted with the harsh words of their teenage parting, the jolt she had felt when their hands touched as he passed her the salad. So instead of sitting downstairs directly in front of the air conditioner, she stayed upstairs and let the heat add a layer of exhaustion to her still-recovering body. The only consolation was knowing he probably felt as awkward as she did.

  Penny filled her empty jug with fresh rainwater, set it in the fridge, and pulled out a chilled replacement. She placed the jug on a small tray, shot a wistful glance at the lounge room, its door closed to keep out the harsh afternoon sunlight, and headed back up the stairs. Three steps up, a noise caught her attention. It sounded like the television had just been switched on in the lounge room. She shook her head. Don’t be ridiculous. Two steps later, another noise. She strained her hearing and smiled. The sound of cartoons whispered through the warm air. Diana’s boys must have messed with the timer button on their last visit. Maybe the power’s been on and off, and it’s turned on automatically.

  Penny set the tray on the timber step and walked back down and through the kitchen. The door creaked as she pushed it open. Frigid air rushed out to greet her like a long-lost friend. Elliot and Harry were perched cross-legged in front of the television set, blond curls spilling over their faces, naked except for Spider-Man underpants. Diana was asleep in Angus’s recliner chair, patches of sweat marking her thin cotton dress, with Leo splayed across her chest, also asleep. His chubby cheeks were rosy red from teething and his tiny hand was clutched around a teddy bear that Penny had bought him as a newborn.

  She crouched down beside the twins.

  ‘Hey guys, I didn’t hear you come in. Your air conditioner still broken at home?’

  Harry looked up, surprised at the interruption, and put a finger to his lips. ‘Shhh, Mummy sleeping.’

  Penny nodded, putting her finger to her lips too and glancing at Diana in case his loud response had woken her. She watched her sister stir before returning to a deeper sleep and felt an urge to safeguard Diana’s rest.

  ‘Want to come upstairs with Aunty Pen? I’ll read you a book,’ she whispered, gesturing to the well-stocked shelf in the corner. Harry nodded and returned with a picture book about shearing. He shoved his hand into hers and pulled her towards the door.

  ‘Wait a sec, Harry. You coming too, Elliot?’ He was the quieter of the pair and still treated her with aloof apprehension. That’s what you get for visiting so sporadically, Lara had told her the other day, when Penny had mentioned Elliot’s apparent shyness.

  Elliot tucked his chin to his chest, but Penny could sense his gaze as she tiptoed to the bookshelf, Harry trailing behind her. She pulled out another book from the same series and brought it to him.

  ‘What about this one? George the Farmer is putting in a wheat crop, just like Grandpa does. Look at his tractor,’ she said.

  Elliot pulled himself to his feet. A little tug of triumph lifted in her chest as both brothers took her hands and they went upstairs.

  Penny closed the door of her father’s office. She walked to the desk, flicked the small fan on and opened the window. Fresh air filtered into the office; the scent of eucalyptus and newly mown grass sent dust motes swirling around the room. It didn’t feel like three weeks since she had arrived at the farm, but surely enough, the days had flown past.

  Penny sat down in the office chair. The stiff frame creaked and groaned as she pulled it close to the desk, not unlike the way her body had creaked and groaned at the start of her convalescence. She moved aside a pile of paperwork to draw the office phone closer, restacking bank statements and machinery catalogues as she went.

  She itched to straighten each book and consolidate the paperwork, so the desk would be clean and tidy like her own. Her mother’s laughter rang in her ears as she remembered how they had both taken pains to neaten Angus’s office, only to find it back to organised chaos a day later.

  ‘Leave it, Penny. You know Dad can’t find anything if it’s too neat,’ Annabel would say. This room was the only one in the house that she hadn’t been given free rein in. As a result, the sparse space felt masculine, from the antique leather chair and antlers mounted on the wall to the dark, heavy timbers and mismatched filing cabinets.

  She brushed away the memory, pulling her hands back from the desk, and instead ran her fingers through her hair as she contemplated who to call first. She knew her workmates would be in and out of meetings for the day, but she didn’t have the foggiest idea what routines staff at the Sydney office kept. A longing to speak with Vince swept over her, and she dialled his mobile number urgently into the cordless phone.

  The scent of Imperial Leather soap hit her as she put the handset to her ear.

  ‘Vince Callas speaking.’ His words were peppered with traffic in the background, the beeps and toots of a bustling city.

  Her shoulders dropped in relief at the sound of his voice.

  ‘Vince, I’m glad I caught you.’

  ‘Babe, great to hear from you. I tried to call again last night, but it goes straight to MessageBank.’


  ‘Tell me about it, the mobile service is terrible. I’ll give you the house number.’

  He groaned sympathetically, the familiar sound making her heart sing. She felt the iceberg of isolation melting.

  ‘You still sound pretty raspy, Pen. Feeling better?’

  ‘Getting there. How’s Sydney? Have they tried to headhunt you permanently yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ he laughed. ‘We helped land another big account today, so we’ll be out celebrating again tonight.’

  Penny could picture the smile on his handsome face, the same smile that had caught her eye when they’d first met.

  ‘We? I thought you were the only one seconded to the Sydney office?’

  A loud noise came from Vince’s end; most of his reply was eaten up by the sound of a passing vehicle.

  ‘… anyway, I’ve got to go. Charlotte and I need to make it across town before the meeting starts.’ The traffic roared down the phone line at her again, and she only caught the final two words ‘… bye, babe.’

  Penny stared at the phone suspiciously, hitting redial. It went to Vince’s voicemail. She jerked the phone back into the charger. It sounded like he’d said Charlotte. She usually skimmed through every HR email update so she could keep tabs on the comings and goings of her colleagues and as far as she knew, there were only two women named Charlotte in the whole of Boutique Media. An anxious woman from the Adelaide office, who had self-medicated with vodka at the annual staff awards night a few years ago and slurred her way through an acceptance speech for an award she hadn’t actually won. Then there was ice-blond Charlotte, one of Georgie’s protégés from the London branch. Her accent was pure boarding-school posh and her short dresses were a regular topic of water-cooler conversation.

  Please let him be talking about the Charlotte from the Adelaide office, Penny thought, her mind whirring at the unexpected news.

  Thirteen

  She pressed the phone keypad and tapped her nails on the desk as it connected.

  ‘Boutique Media. You’re speaking with Jade.’

  ‘Jade, I need a favour.’

  ‘Hey stranger, I was just walking past your empty office five minutes ago. I’ll move into it if you’re not back soon.’

  ‘Trust me, I’m working on it. Just wait until I tell you about my doctor’s recovery program, you’ll be beside yourself.’ Penny sipped from her mug, frowning as the instant coffee met her tastebuds. She still hadn’t got a taste for the freeze-dried stuff Angus bought. It wasn’t the cheapest or nastiest stuff in the grocery aisle, but it was in a completely different ballpark to her usual daily espresso.

  ‘Pen, I’d love to, but you’d better make it quick. I’ve got end of the month coming up, and we’re already snowed under with the quarterly budget. Can I give you a call tomorrow night?’

  Penny looked up at the livestock calendar on the wall, remembering the fever pitch that settled at the end of every month.

  ‘Of course, I clean forgot. Just quickly, did you know anything about Vince going to Sydney with a woman called Charlotte?’ She struggled to keep her tone light, but there was no fooling her oldest friend.

  ‘Not that new British one? Charlotte the Harlot? The one that put the “ho” in ho, ho, ho at the Chrissy party?’

  Penny winced, remembering the childish nickname she’d suggested over a gingerbread martini. They had giggled at the time, but now it felt ominous. Her worries compounded as she farewelled her friend and promised to recap the following evening. Penny picked up a pen and walked to the wall calendar. She counted seven weeks ahead, flipping from a harvesting photograph to a sunset over green pastures to a shearing shed scene. She made a big, black ring around the box marked 1 June.

  ‘June the first. That’s when everything will be back the way it should be,’ she said aloud. Her voice sounded shaky, even to her ears, and she picked up the colourful brochures that still lay in the wire wastebasket underneath the desk. The exercise classes will pass the time until I can go home, she decided. If nothing else, they’ll be good for a laugh.

  The modest township of Bridgefield spread out in front of the ute as they crested a steep hill. Clusters of houses appeared by the roadside featuring long gravel entryways with established gardens and well-kept farm signs giving way to shorter driveways and smaller, messy yards. Neglected weatherboard homes that were once their owners’ pride and joy sat desolately on the fringe of town, with dilapidated chicken coops full of weeds and long grass. Sheets of iron clung valiantly to precarious roof trusses. Penny felt a pang of loss for the picturesque settlement she remembered. Where’s the bustling little town, the pride of place? The clipped lawns and freshly painted fences she had admired from the school bus window had all but disappeared.

  Several new homes proudly fronted the road, declaring their faith in the future of the town, but the faded paint and neglected yards outnumbered the shiny new roofs and hot-mix driveways at least ten to one.

  ‘The town’s looking a bit down at heel,’ she murmured to Angus, watching a young woman collect her garbage bin in her dressing-gown. ‘What happened to the thriving farming community?’

  Angus looked around him, seeming surprised, as if the change had been so gradual, he hadn’t noticed.

  ‘Well, I guess there’s not as much money around these days, love. Young people head straight to the city in search of bright lights and big dreams. Not mentioning any names, of course, but there isn’t quite the investment from the next generation.’

  Penny noted with relief that the heritage buildings in the main street remained unchanged. The bluestone bricks and red trim of the Shire offices, library and bush nursing centre looked as grand as the day they had opened in 1902. Sandwiched between the town hall and one-person police station was the general store, its striped bullnose verandah a beacon to passers-by and residents in search of a carton of milk or the local paper.

  Angus parked directly out front of the store. He reached for his khaki hat and looked at his watch.

  ‘Meet you back here in an hour?’

  ‘Should give me plenty of time,’ said Penny. She tucked her yoga mat under her arm and stepped onto the footpath. The smell of stale beer floated down the street as Angus opened the pub’s heavy glass doors. He was soon enveloped in the darkness. She continued down the footpath, feeling out of place in her lycra leggings and neon-pink hoody. Taking the steps slowly, she made her way to the bush nursing centre entrance and fidgeted with her shoelaces while waiting for the automatic sliding door to open.

  A trio of elderly women greeted her as she stepped inside. She smiled at them, trying to match names to the vaguely familiar faces and read the provocative slogans printed on their shirts, at odds with their white, lilac and silver hair.

  ‘Oh look, Pearl, we’ve got a young one! Here for yoga are you, sweetie? It’s almost about to start,’ called the lady with the ‘Workout Warrior’ singlet.

  The names Beryl and Ethel swam to the top of Penny’s mind, but the other women came to her rescue as she murmured her thanks.

  ‘Merryl, don’t you know who that is? It’s the young McIntyre lass. Penelope, isn’t it?’ The ladies flocked to her, welcoming her home and asking after her father.

  ‘And Eddie told me all about the lambs coming through. Tim said he was pleased with the early autumn lambing trial—is your dad going to try it again next year?’

  The short woman with lavender hair looked up expectantly. Penny realised she was speaking with Tim and Eddie’s grandmother, Pearl.

  Penny searched for an answer, keenly aware their farmhand’s grandmother knew more about the merino stud than she did.

  ‘I haven’t had a chance to ask, but I’m sure I’ll get all the ins and outs during my stay.’

  ‘Give her a minute to settle in, Pearl,’ said the tallest woman, shaking her finger. ‘She’s only just back from the big smoke, probably hasn’t even pulled her boots on yet.’

  Penny laughed. ‘Guilty as charged. But I’m sure it won�
�t be long before I’m touring paddocks and getting the inside scoop on all things merino.’

  ‘Oh, you can’t help but enjoy yourself out at that beautiful property. It was so good of your father to show him the ropes; Tim’s happier than I’ve seen him in years. Makes an old duck proud to have a grandson like him.’ Pearl hugged her sun-spotted hands to her heart as she spoke, her two friends nodding in unison.

  ‘He’s saving for his own farm, you know—such a lovely lad.’

  ‘Always helps me when my Rufus goes wandering. Puts him on the back of the ute, next to Bones, and delivers him back to me,’ added Merryl.

  The yoga instructor breezed past them, smelling like she’d bathed in a vat of patchouli oil.

  Penny bundled her yoga mat back under her arm and followed the trio into a large room. Classical music filled the air as a Mexican wave of yoga mats unfurled across the carpeted floor. Penny spread her feet to hip distance apart as directed, and followed the instruction to invert her body into a downward dog position. Her hair fell down over her face, her thoughts tumbling as blood rushed to her head. But no matter how hard she tried, Penny couldn’t forget Pearl’s glowing pride in and unwavering loyalty to Tim.

  ‘Gently moving into mountain pose …’ Penny followed the instructor’s lead, straightening up and drawing her arms down by her sides. She turned her head and intercepted the curious gaze of Tim’s grandmother. Pearl smiled at her, a flash of coral lipstick parting to reveal perfectly straight teeth. Penny smiled back. She wasn’t proud of the abrupt way she’d broken up with Tim, but it was in the past. Tim had obviously rebuilt his life, and she’d been happy to escape the cloud of scandal when she moved to the city. Penny bent into a forward fold, dangling her wrists by her ankles. It had all worked out for the best, hadn’t it?

  Fourteen

  ‘Aunty Pen, watch this,’ called Elliot, bobbing up and down in unison with Harry on the trampoline. Penny dutifully looked towards the play equipment, relics from her childhood when occupational health and safety were unheard of, a time when safety nets and soft-fall floor coverings were a ridiculous notion.