Head for the Hills, page 10
“Who’s there?” A man stepped into the doorframe at the end of the short passage. He was slightly stooped, with a few wisps of silver hair swept across his head.
“I’ve come about the rental.”
“Are you pregnant?”
Amber frowned then looked down. Part of her t-shirt was stuck in the elastic waist of her pants and accentuated the small round of her belly. She tugged it away. She could just say she’d put on weight but she knew the rest of her was too thin. “Yes.” She nodded, thinking that was the end of her chances.
The man beamed at her. “A baby is wonderful. Come in, come in.” He beckoned. “You have a look around, okay?”
Amber gave a quick glance into the two front rooms, both gloomy and empty of anything except stained floor coverings and ratty blinds half down over small windows. Her heart sunk further. She had no furniture.
“Come look at the kitchen. It’s got a new oven. I just put it in.”
Amber reluctantly followed him into the small kitchen.
The man stood beside a compact upright oven that reminded her of the cooker from her childhood neighbour’s house. The woman had been a grandmotherly figure in Amber and her brother’s lives during the time they’d lived next door to her. She was always cooking biscuits that she gave to them with mugs of warm chocolate milk. No warmth or deliciousness emanated from this stove. There were gaps between it and the rough benches either side, and exposed wall behind it, as if something bigger had been there before. She could see wiring in the gaps.
“I got it for a song.” He opened the oven door. “But it’s all clean and in good order. Do you like to cook?”
Amber nodded, not putting a voice to the lie. She crossed the worn linoleum floor and stepped into a bigger room where the larger windows let more light into the dingy house. At least there was a table and two chairs. Beyond the glass there was a yard, as overgrown as the front.
“Lots of room for a family.”
Amber turned. The man was smiling at her.
“Does your husband have work nearby?”
“I’m…I’m on my own.”
“But your baby.” He waved a hand in the direction of her belly. “How are you going to pay the rent?”
Amber drew up her shoulders. “I’ve got a job and money put aside.”
“On your own you won’t manage. Babies take lots of work.”
Amber stiffened. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll manage.”
“You have references?”
Annoyance dissolved her sliver of hope. “My partner paid the rent at our last place.”
“No, no, no.” He shook his head vigorously. “I know what will happen. You move in here then you can’t pay.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know.” His look was full of disdain and he shooed her with his hands as if she were a dog. “This is no good. You go.”
Amber’s annoyance fizzed and erupted as anger. “This place is a dump anyway,” she snarled as she barrelled past him. She caught her foot properly in the ragged carpet this time and stumbled against the wall, making a larger hole as she tugged her foot free.
“You damage my property!” the man yelled after her. “No respect, you young people.”
Amber flipped him the bird. Respect was supposed to be a two-way street but in her experience it was rare she was given any. She recalled the way the woman at the first unit she’d visited that morning had looked her up and down. Amber’s clothes had been clean then but the woman’s gaze had lingered on her belly and her face had pinched in tighter. Amber had been careful to make sure her t-shirt hung loose after that, until now. This house was a dump but she knew she would have taken it at the right price.
By the time she arrived back at Roslyn’s place her anger had subsided a little. She switched off the car and sat a moment, staring at the stone walls. The cottage was an old building, but Roslyn, or someone she’d paid no doubt, had managed to make it comfortable. Absolutely no comparison to the dump Amber had just left but she had to find a place soon and, as she’d been told a few times too many lately, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Roslyn had made it clear this was a temporary thing and Amber had stayed three nights already.
She let herself into the cottage and dumped her bag on a chair where it immediately slid sideways disgorging the contents all over the floor. She marched on into the kitchen and gulped down a big glass of water. When she’d seen the doctor he’d told her she should be drinking lots but the trouble with that was she had to pee more often. She’d get a bad rep at work if she was in the toilet every five minutes.
Back in the lounge she looked at the scattered contents of her bag. The page of rental listings lay on top, teasing her with the string of addresses that had filled her with hope. She’d copied them out the previous night just in case her phone went flat. What a waste of time and petrol that had been, and she’d had to get up extra early to make the first one. She’d driven to three different suburbs across Adelaide where the queues had been long to inspect properties she had no hope of being accepted for, then ended up close to Jesserton at that dump of a place, not fit for a dog let alone Amber and a baby. She swept up the paper, scrunched it in her hands then shredded it.
“What’s the point!” she raged and flung the pieces across the room where they fluttered every which way to the floor. She groaned and sagged onto the couch. There were several pillows too many on it and she tossed them to the floor as well. One of them probably cost as much as she spent on food for a week. The unfairness of it fuelled her anger. She struggled up from the couch and kicked the cushions. “Bloody fancy rubbish,” she ranted.
“Hello?”
“Shit!”
Roslyn was peering in at her through the screen door. Amber hadn’t seen her since the afternoon she’d moved in. She hurried forward, hoping the woman hadn’t seen her flinging her cushions about. Amber pushed open the screen and stepped out, forcing Roslyn to hobble backwards.
“I heard your car.” Roslyn peered over Amber’s shoulder.
“I’ve been out looking for another place,” Amber said quickly, trying to fill the doorway so Roslyn wouldn’t see the mess.
“That’s good.”
Amber tensed. “I’ve been to four places today but no luck.”
“I see.”
“I’ll try—”
“I thou—”
They both spoke at once then faltered. Amber glared at Roslyn who stared back, her eyes narrowed, her nose in the air.
“I thought you must have been at work.” Roslyn raised her hands. “I brought you this.”
They both glanced down at the tea-towel-wrapped bundle.
“It’s a banana cake and a chicken pie. I made two and thought—”
“I can cook.” Amber glared at Roslyn, whose brow creased to a frown.
“I wasn’t suggesting…” She blew out a sharp breath. “I made extra and I thought as you seem to be working…or out, that you might appreciate not having to cook but if you don’t want it I’ll put it in my freezer.”
Their eyes met again. Roslyn’s stare was resolute. Amber glanced at the bundle in her hands. The smell of warm pie pastry wafted her way. She swallowed as saliva pooled in her mouth. She hadn’t shopped in a while. She’d had the last piece of her Wednesday night pizza for breakfast this morning and she was on the late shift tonight so she’d miss the chef’s free meal.
“Thanks,” she said.
Roslyn handed over the food but stayed put. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“No more dizzy spells or headaches?”
“I thought you were a retired doctor.”
“I am,” she snapped. “It’s not a consultation, just a neighbourly enquiry.”
Amber wilted a little under her glare. “I’m feeling fine.” It was the truth as far as her physical health was concerned. She’d worked shifts at the pub each night since she’d moved in at the cottage but the comfortable bed and safe surroundings had meant she’d slept well and woken each morning feeling refreshed – something she hadn’t experienced in a long while.
“Everything’s all right in the cottage?” Once more Roslyn tried to peer past her shoulder.
“You can come in and check if you like.”
“I’m not checking up, simply asking if there’s anything else you might need.”
Amber blew out the breath she’d been holding. “No… thank you.”
“Good, well, I’ll leave you to it.” Roslyn turned on her heel and walked two steps before she started to limp. Amber had noticed she’d done it the first day they’d met. She’d insisted on carrying the jerry can with the fuel for Amber but she’d almost lost her balance at one point. There was obviously something wrong with her leg.
Amber opened her mouth to ask if she was okay then thought better of it. Roslyn was as prickly as an echidna; no doubt she’d not appreciate questions about her health.
Roslyn did her best to make a dignified retreat. The doctor’s pulling and prodding had stirred things up and it was still difficult to find a comfortable way to walk. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, not just because she felt Amber watching her but because the girl’s behaviour had set off warning bells.
It had been impossible to see much of the cottage but the bit of floor Roslyn could see had been littered with rubbish and cushions. The cushions hadn’t been expensive but she’d spent a lot of time scouring op shops looking for something to replace the originals whose demise she’d prefer to forget.
Amber herself had looked terrible, even though she’d said she was fine. Her streaky purple hair was lank and part in, part out of a tangled ponytail, her face flushed and the clothes she’d been wearing looked like they were in need of washing. The brief moment Roslyn had been close she’d caught a strong whiff of body odour. No wonder she’d made no headway finding accommodation if she’d presented like that.
Roslyn managed to get herself inside and propped in a semicomfortable position at her kitchen bench. In front of her the dishes from her baking were still scattered over the sink. She’d tackle them later or even leave them till after dinner – what did it matter? More important was the situation with Amber. Roslyn had given the young woman some time, hadn’t hassled her, but now she wondered how much effort Amber was putting in to finding herself accommodation.
She glanced at the clock then at the painkillers Joe had prescribed. She’d put aside a nice bottle of red for her steak dinner and it was close enough to five o’clock. She’d have a glass of wine instead of a pill.
She’d just poured the wine and taken her first sip when her back door rattled and Margot bustled in.
“Have you read the paper today?” She waved a folded newspaper in the air.
Roslyn glanced at her tablet lying on the side table. She never bought a paper copy these days, preferring the digital version. “Not yet.”
“There’s a write-up about the proposed hotel. That blasted Meyer and Brightman lot are unbelievable.” She paused. “Are you on the wine already?”
“It’s five o’clock.” Roslyn wasn’t sure why she needed to justify the time of day to her sister.
“Is it? I might join you then.”
Roslyn didn’t bother to get up but picked up the paper that had been tossed aside as Margot helped herself to a glass and some wine.
“Dennis not home?” Roslyn asked.
“He’s at work.”
“On a Saturday afternoon?”
“Someone’s sick.” Margot paused to look at the sink. “Have you been baking?”
“A simple chicken pie and a banana cake.”
“You never bake.”
“I do sometimes. Anyway, I had some soft bananas needed using up. Thought I could take cake to Emily’s tomorrow.”
Margot quirked one eyebrow then waved at the paper as she came and sat down. “The stuff about the hotel is all in there. Meyer and Brightman may have only just bought the place but they’ve been working on this hotel idea for a long time already.”
“Biding their time till they found the right property, I’d suspect.”
Margot’s eyes narrowed above the glass she’d raised to her lips. “Did you know about it?”
“No. But a company like that would be looking and coming up with ideas all the time and well before they made a commitment.”
Margot snatched the paper from her and began to turn the pages. Roslyn took a sip of her wine. The proposed hotel was not high on her list of concerns.
“Listen to this.” Margot began to read from the paper. “New bespoke hotel proposed for the Adelaide Hills. Developers Meyer and Brightman, who have built unique accommodation in other tourist regions both in South Australia and interstate, have applied to build a hotel with eighteen rooms and two penthouse apartments. Nestled against the side of a hill outside Jesserton, each room will have private balcony views across the valley to the hills.” Margot glanced up. “All those people looking over my backyard.”
“I don’t think—”
“There’s more.” Margot continued. “The hotel is designed to accommodate those wanting a little more luxury and will encourage visitors to remain longer, stay overnight and see more of the region.”
“Surely that would be a good thing for local businesses,” Roslyn said.
“Not in Jesserton. They’re hardly likely to visit the cafe or the pub if there’s a restaurant in the hotel, and I can’t see them popping into Sandy’s for a haircut – she’s hard enough to get into as it is.” Margot waved the hand with her glass in the air and the red wine slopped wildly from side to side.
“Don’t waste my wine,” Roslyn snapped. “That’s an expensive bottle.”
Margot continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “They won’t be spending money at Greg’s for a plant or…or the butcher shop for meat…”
“Perhaps on their way home?” Roslyn ventured, which earned her a glare from Margot who sniffed and turned back to the page.
“‘Our key focus is sustainability,’ said the hotel’s designer. ‘The objective of the development’s methodology and the servicing and operation of the hotel is to deliver a well-appointed accommodation experience, which is heightened by the adoption of contemporary environmentally sustainable design.’”
The paper flopped forward and Margot stared over it. “What does that even mean?”
Roslyn didn’t need to answer. Margot snapped the paper upright and kept reading.
“‘We think our bespoke hotel will provide our guests with luxury accommodation right in the heart of the Hills, nestled alongside picturesque Jesserton and nearby wineries and tourist attractions.’”
“Something that’s lacking in this area,” Roslyn said, but once again she was ignored.
“This is what I can’t believe.” Margot stabbed a finger at the paper and continued. “‘We’ve now reached a point where council is happy with the concept.’” She looked up. “Council is happy with the plans!” she repeated, her hands scrunching the edges of the paper. “How can it have come this far without anyone knowing?” Her eyes narrowed. “They’ve only just bought the land. And now there’s suddenly a plan and council knows about it already.”
“They’re the kind of company that would know all the rules. They’ve probably had ideas, even a basic outline, for ages and been on the lookout for the right land. As soon as they found it, they were ready and waiting with their well-thought-out plans.”
Margot’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe you’re on the side of the hotel.”
“I’m not on anyone’s side. I think the key words in that article are council is happy with the concept.” Roslyn wagged her finger to underline her point.
“Don’t get all high and mighty with me.”
“I’m simply pointing out that it’s still in planning and might not go ahead.”
“Might not.” Margot leaped to her feet. The newspaper slid to the floor. “It won’t! The rest of the town is up in arms.”
“The whole town?” Roslyn raised an eyebrow.
“Everyone. This is not a joke, Roslyn. You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Play the high-and-mighty big-sister card as if you know all the answers and I know nothing.”
Roslyn clamped her lips together then changed her mind and opened them for another mouthful of wine.
Margot swished the paper through the air. “You’re always so bloody smug.” She spun and waltzed out the door.
Roslyn listened to the angry clack of her sister’s heels retreating along the path and the bang of the garden gate, and then the quiet settled. She looked at the partly drunk glass of wine that Margot had left behind, tipped it into her own, took a sip and wondered how she was going to get Amber out of her cottage.
twelve
Dinner at Emily and Cameron’s
Hummus Dip with Veggie Sticks & Corn Chips
Asparagus Stir-fry, Vegan Lasagne, Green Salad with Lemon Dressing
Fruit & Yogurt Granola Parfaits, Tahini Almond Cookies
“Thanks, Mum,” Emily said as Margot put her lasagne in the oven.
“It’s just to keep warm,” Margot said. “And I’ve made a couple of simple sweets. I think everyone will like the cookies and your dad’s got the parfaits in the esky.”
“You’re the best.” Emily hugged her. “We’ve had such a busy week I nearly called off dinner but Cam volunteered to do his famous asparagus stir-fry.” She smiled at her husband as he popped a bottle of champagne. “That’s a sound I’m pleased to hear.”
Dennis hefted the esky up onto the kitchen bench, accompanied by the rattle of clinking glass.
“Careful of the parfaits,” Margot chided. “There’s no need to put it on the bench. We can leave the esky in the laundry until dessert.”
“No room,” Cameron said. “I’ve got the drinks on ice in there.”
