Bottlebrush Creek Page 8

  Angie felt like the fun police but Claudia had already been given free rein on the nibbles platter, so her appetite for meat and three veg was already shot. Judging by the trifle in the fridge, there would be more than enough sugar in the dessert too. I’ve got to draw the line somewhere.

  Rosa’s face fell but she slipped the soft drink back into the fridge and busied herself with serving up.

  John sharpened the carving knife. ‘Everyone having crackling?’

  Everyone but Angie nodded. Crunchy pork skin was normally a favourite, but she knew the fatty, salty treat would go straight to her thighs.

  ‘So, tell us about your cottage,’ said Rosa, sitting down to eat. ‘Have you got the extension permit back yet? I dropped it into conversation when I saw the mayor yesterday. He might give it a nudge in the right department.’

  Rob rolled his eyes. ‘Nothing like keeping a low profile, Mum. Thanks.’

  ‘Least I can do, Rob. I’m just as excited as you are. What colours are you thinking, Angie? It always looked so fabulous with a fresh coat of yellow paint.’

  ‘We’ve decided on duck-egg blue, like a greyish blue. With white trim.’

  John cut his meat into neat little pieces.

  Rosa’s brow furrowed. ‘Greyish blue? Sounds a little maudlin, doesn’t it? Yellow’s such a cheerful colour …’ Rosa trailed off, her eyes tracking from the buttercup walls of the lounge room to the vintage lemonade posters either side of her rangehood and the matching yellow floral curtains.

  Angie’s fork hovered a centimetre from her mouth as all eyes turned to her. She lowered the mouthful, hoping Rob would pipe up, but he was shovelling in food as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

  ‘We think it’ll look good, but who knows? Maybe we’ll buy a few sample pots in different shades and see how they go.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be lovely, whatever you decide,’ said Rosa, placing another shard of pork crackling beside Claudia’s untouched beans.

  ‘Lot of work to be done before you need to worry about picking paint,’ said John.

  Angie noticed Rob pause before slowly resuming his chewing.

  ‘Oh hush, John. They’re on their way and that’s the main thing. Maybe we’ll be able to do dinner together every Sunday,’ she said brightly.

  Angie pushed the carrots and corn around her plate, but before she could work out how to tactfully decline a weekly dinner arrangement, Rosa continued.

  ‘And what about Christmas? We always have a fresh turkey from Mr Huppatz, but we could live on the edge and get some fresh crayfish if you’d rather? Whack a tablecloth over a few card tables and we could invite your family too, Angie. And you can come to mass with me if you like? John never bothers, but it’s such a lovely tradition, don’t you think?’

  Angie sucked in a quick breath. Is it suddenly hot in here? Rosa’s excitement and attempts to make her feel welcome were having the opposite effect. She hadn’t discussed it with Rob yet, but she’d assumed they’d do something at the cottage with her sisters and Dad. Was she really so selfish that she hadn’t yet thought to include John and Rosa in her plans? Angie grimaced into her roast potatoes, knowing it was true.

  Rob’s hand squeezed her knee gently. ‘Steady on, Mum, we’ve only just moved in. Plenty of time to work something out.’

  Angie nodded and drained her water in one big gulp, wishing for the millionth time her mum was still alive. Annabel had seen the good in everyone, and had always been quick with advice when her daughters asked for it. What would Mum have suggested about how to live next door to my future in-laws without being in each other’s pockets?

  Fourteen

  The tradesmen worked as a team, removing heavy-duty jacks from around the house bearers and ferrying them back and forth to their trailer. Bit by bit, the base of the weatherboard house reappeared, floating upon its new foundations.

  ‘That should pull her up. She’ll be good for another fifty years on those new stumps,’ said the head contractor, wiping his florid face. Angie poured him a glass of iced water and handed it over with a plate of morning tea.

  ‘Thanks, Colin. We won’t know that back room without a saggy corner,’ she said.

  He poured himself another drink before shovelling in a mouthful of chips. It wasn’t quite the baked spread she normally offered guests, but the tradies weren’t complaining.

  ‘You’ll be able to roll a marble on it, darl. Smart thinking to get this sorted first. It’s a cardinal sin to forget about the bones of the building.’

  Angie nodded; his sentiments mirrored Rob’s exact words.

  ‘The real test is making sure all the doors open and close properly.’ Colin fished his ruler from a pocket as he strolled into the cottage. Angie followed, amused by the careful way he opened each door.

  Satisfied with his inspection, Colin gestured to a window. ‘Good as gold. Had any problems with those feral pigs in the scrub? Poll Dorset stud a few clicks down the road had loads of trouble a month ago.’

  Angie laughed, looking at the forest along the back of their property, speckled with manna gums, and home to a healthy population of koalas, wallabies and kookaburras.

  ‘Pigs? I’m more worried about snakes. I suppose we could set up some traps or something.’ She thought of the roast Rosa had served up the week before. ‘Fill the freezer with pork, perhaps.’

  Colin stroked his moustache. ‘It’s no joke. Keep an eye out for the hunters too. Gung-ho shooters ripping across paddocks, leaving gates open, popping anything that moves,’ he said, diving into the chip bowl again. A flurry of chips settled on the floorboards. His grim expression turned thoughtful. ‘Slap a few “No trespassing” signs on your gates. That’d be a start.’

  ‘Righto, Colin,’ said Angie, biting back amusement.

  Colin’s brow furrowed as he studied her. ‘These aren’t cute and cuddly piggies, they’re big hairy buggers armed with tusks that’ll slice through leather. Keep an eye out if that creek behind your place runs dry. You don’t want one in your backyard. Specially with your little tacker.’ He gestured to the backyard, where the patchy lawn was already littered with Claudia’s scooter, a basket of dolls and an upended tub of plastic farm animals. Angie’s pulse raced, only easing when she spotted Claudia sitting underneath the mulberry tree, plucking leaves from the lower limbs.

  She mustered up a breezy farewell for the tradesmen, but when their trailer rattled off along Enderby Lane, she turned back to the forest and tried not to imagine Colin’s shooters or beasts lurking within.

  A blast of spring rain chased away the previous week’s hot spell. There’s one thing south-west Victoria does well, and that’s rain, thought Angie as she tugged on a cardigan. She rifled through the caravan cupboards, her stomach as empty as the biscuit jar she normally kept full. Her gaze caught on the recipe book in the bottom corner of the cupboard; the handwritten recipes and magazine clippings were useless without an oven. She didn’t really need the recipes to make her favourites—the measurements for yo-yo biscuits, muesli-bar slice and carrot cake were imprinted on her brain—but the sight of her well-loved book prompted a jolt of hunger.

  Angie paused at the water crackers, pushed aside the heaped pile of low-fat, sugar-free bliss balls Bobbi had recommended and sighed. Her loose waistband was a sure sign she’d started to strip excess fat, but how could one little recipe book be almost enough to lead her astray? She peered into the small cabinet once again, cursing Bobbi’s suggestion to remove sweets, treats and temptations.

  ‘Come on, Claudia, let’s make a snack,’ she said. Claudia raced out of the caravan. They crouched by the shed fridge, pulling out cucumbers, carrots and strawberries and stacking them on the bench.

  Claudia clambered onto a stool, her disappointed expression reflecting Angie’s. She probably hungered for something more along the lines of hot Milo and cake too.

  ‘This will be yummy, Claud,’ she said, raising her voice above the rain as her daughter crunched on carrot sticks. The grey clouds ou
t the shed windows made the small space feel oppressive.

  You’re doing so well, don’t spoil it now. New town, new you, she reminded herself, taking a cucumber stick. She channelled her inner Bobbi and conjured up an encouraging smile for Claudia’s benefit. ‘Jayden and Oscar love their veggies,’ Angie said.

  ‘Scarlett and me love cake,’ said Claudia.

  Angie burst out laughing. Tessa’s pantry was as well stocked with home-baked goods as her own used to be, each Tupperware container filled with equal quantities of sugar and love.

  Angie finished her snack before unloading the washing machine. The morning of wet weather would have spoiled the curing hay had Rob not stayed up till midnight baling it. It had also rendered the outdoor clothesline useless but there was no room to set up a clothes hoist in the shed.

  Inspiration struck as she assessed Rob’s motorbike collection. He’d squeezed seven vintage bikes into their makeshift living area so John and Rosa’s hay shed could return to its original purpose—storing the freshly baled hay.

  She slipped Rob’s monogrammed work shirts onto coat-hangers and hung them from handlebars. Claudia giggled as she draped socks over foot pegs and clutch levers.

  ‘Washing’s sorted!’ Angie wondered what Rob would say when he arrived home from work to find her bras stretched between his motorcycle mirrors.

  Rain was belting down with such gusto that she didn’t even hear the door open.

  ‘Yoo hoo! Just me.’ Water beaded off her mother-in-law’s oilskin jacket and puddled on the concrete floor Angie had just mopped. ‘Lovely weather for ducks out there. Hard to believe it was stinking hot two days ago,’ Rosa said, shaking off her jacket.

  Angie moved to put the kettle on. Like the swinging weather patterns of south-west Victoria, she was almost accustomed to Rob’s mother unexpectedly dropping in now. ‘Hi Rosa. Tea or coffee?’

  Claudia flew across the room, aiming not for Rosa’s outstretched arms but for the calico bag she carried. ‘Cake, Granny? Pop coming too?’

  Rosa laughed at Claudia’s optimistic tone. ‘He’s out fixing a downpipe that came loose in the storm. Can’t waste a drop of rainwater this time of year. Won’t be enough to fill the dams or get the creek running again, but we’ll take it. I’d murder a coffee, thanks Angie.’

  Rosa pulled two large plastic containers from her carry bag. Angie looked on with a mixture of longing and irritation.

  ‘Vanilla slice delivery. I know you’re on some type of diet, but you’ve still got to eat, don’t you?’ Rosa eyed the cucumber and carrot sticks on the benchtop.

  ‘It’s a health kick, not a diet. Rob will be pleased, I’ll bet. Vanilla slice is his—’

  ‘Favourite, I know,’ said Rosa, handing a square to Claudia, who almost knocked the veggie sticks off the benchtop in her hurry to grab it. ‘Think she takes after her dad. There’s plenty there for you too, Angie. Brought you milk too. Fresh from the vat this morning. I skimmed the cream off the top so it’s healthier for you. Probably just as low-fat as shop-bought, but better. You need to keep your calcium up anyway. Don’t want to pass on brittle bones to any future babies.’

  Angie counted to three in her head as she placed a coffee in front of Rosa and wrapped her hands around her own mug. She wasn’t sure if the gesture was to stop herself from taking a piece of slice or throttling Rosa, but either way, she clung to the mug like a lifebuoy.

  ‘Thanks. It’s supposed to rain all week?’

  ‘Yep. Cats and dogs today, then lighter the rest of the week. The boys got the hay done in the nick of time, didn’t they? It’s so good of Rob to give us most of it. You sure you won’t need it?’

  ‘It’s no use to us. You’re the ones with cows to feed, and after all the help you’ve given us so far with moving and …’ Supplying us with an endless assortment of delicious baked goods. ‘Of course you should have the hay,’ said Angie.

  Rosa peered at her as if she were short-sighted before gazing around the room, suddenly silent. That’s odd, thought Angie. Rosa was never lost for words. She thought back to the conversation she’d had with Rob months ago, before they’d purchased the property, and his suggestion of raising a few cattle of their own. She inhaled sharply, glancing out the window at the house that was already consuming every free moment. They didn’t have time for cattle.

  Rosa reached back into her calico bag, drawing out a stack of magazines and sitting them on the table. ‘Found these in Rob’s old bedroom. I know they’re ancient, but there might be a few good articles in there for you.’

  Angie leafed through the building magazines. The nineties décor and DIY mudbrick projects were good for a laugh, but she was less impressed by the extra motorbike magazines. The last thing Rob needed was more motorcycle eye-candy.

  ‘How old was Rob when he started buying these? I can’t believe you kept them all this—’

  ‘All this time? Well, I couldn’t bear to throw them out, like the old woollen jumpers I dropped off for Claudia. He saved his pocket money to buy these. I knew they’d come in handy one day.’

  Angie glanced around the shed—at the bag of moth-eaten cardigans and pullovers Rosa had brought around last week, and the stack of magazines on the table. There was barely enough room to move in the shed as it was.

  Where does Rosa expect us to keep them? At this rate, we won’t have anywhere to eat breakfast.

  Rosa pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Angie. ‘And this is a list of all the tradesmen we’ve used over the years, at the house and the dairy. We’ve worked out the hard way which ones are useless, so you won’t need to make the same mistakes.’

  Angie took the list and used a magnet to secure Rosa’s tradesmen recommendations to the fridge. She knew it was a well-intentioned gesture, but it felt smothering, like Rosa wanted to micromanage everything.

  ‘Thanks, Rosa, I’ll show Rob.’

  Rosa beamed at Angie, oblivious to her reservations. ‘It’s wonderful having you both here, Angie. And Claudia. Now all we need is Max home and everything will be perfect.’

  Angie heard the note of hope in Rosa’s voice. Even though she hadn’t met Max, Angie knew enough to understand his return home would be far from perfect.

  Fifteen

  The ladder wobbled under Angie’s hands as Rob climbed onto the roof. She stepped back and shielded her eyes against the sun to watch Brett balance on the ridge beam. Although they’d spent all morning working six metres off the ground, Angie still held her breath as the pair navigated the rusty tin.

  He’s a plumber. He probably does it every day, she told herself, catching Brett’s eye.

  ‘You look like Tessa. She’s always scared I’ll trip on my shoelaces and take a tumble,’ he said.

  ‘That’s why he wears boots,’ grinned Rob.

  You still might trip on your baggy jeans, thought Angie, copping another eyeful of his backside as he crouched down and extended the tape measure. ‘Aren’t you supposed to use harnesses?’

  ‘Nah, harnesses are for scaredy-cats. More of a nuisance than anything. Let go, Rob, we’re almost done,’ said Brett, writing down the final measurement.

  ‘Wait up—leave the extra rope around the chimney for a sec. Ange, come check out the view from the roof ridge. You can see Lady Julia Percy Island from up here,’ said Rob.

  Angie shook her head.

  ‘But he’s got the rope up here, easy as pie.’

  ‘You’re joking, right? Anything higher than the gutter and there’s no way I’m doing it.’

  Rob looked confused. Angie felt her smile slip. Brett chuckled as he untied the rope from around the chimney.

  ‘Such a sensitive soul, our Jonesy. What type of bloke forgets his girlfriend’s scared of heights?’ he said. ‘You’ll probably need to enter a reminder for your birthday into his phone too, just to be sure.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Rob laughed as he climbed to the ground, but Angie could see he’d been caught out. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten—it w
as the fact they’d probably never discussed her fear of heights before.

  Brett caught her eye as he scaled the roof, his sandy hair flopping down over his face. He suddenly yelled, ‘Woah!’

  Angie’s breath caught as Brett stumbled, his arms stretching out for balance. She dashed to the edge of the cottage, knowing putting herself directly beneath a plummeting plumber was a completely daft idea, but unable to stop herself rushing towards him.

  A cheeky look crossed Brett’s face. ‘Just joking, Ange. I’ve got the reflexes of a cat.’

  Rob threw his head back and let out a roar of laughter.

  Angie whacked his arm. ‘It’s not even funny.’

  What if he really had fallen? It’d make the mums’ group a bit awkward, wouldn’t it? ‘Sorry about your husband, Tessa. He was horsing around on our roof when he broke his neck.’ She took two steps back and craned her neck to glare at Brett. ‘I won’t try to catch you next time.’

  ‘No catching required, Ange, promise.’ Brett climbed down and tied the ladder to the roof of his work van, then leaned against the side. ‘I’ll quote up all the roofing iron and gutters tomorrow, before I hit the frog and toad. Got leaking roofs all over Port Fairview to fix, thanks to last week’s rain. But your tin should arrive quickly. If the rain stays away, we’ll have her re-sheeted in no time. Which sparkies you using?’

  Angie shot a look at Rob and replied in a dry tone, ‘According to Rosa, we can only use Thompson Electrical. All the other electricians in town are useless, apparently.’

  ‘Mum’s only trying to help,’ said Rob.

  ‘If only they weren’t the ones with a six-week wait,’ Angie replied. ‘You know most of the tradesmen in town, Brett. Anything wrong with Codrington Electricians?’

  Brett held up his hands. ‘I’m not getting in the middle of this. All I can say is there’s a reason why you don’t have to wait long to get the Codrington blokes around.’

  Angie shrugged but couldn’t help wondering if Rosa would back off and let them make their own decisions or if she was only warming up.