Head for the Hills, page 15
“Okay, okay, just trying to be helpful.”
Under Roslyn’s intense look the words Amber had prepared suddenly deserted her and she took a different tack. “Did you get into trouble?”
“Trouble?”
“With your sister? She didn’t look too happy that I was here.”
“She’s not. She says you were rude to her.”
“She started it.” Amber lowered her gaze to her feet and poked at a weed in the path with her shoe, wishing she hadn’t come.
A deep sigh came from Roslyn. “I don’t doubt she did. What was it you wanted?”
Amber looked up. Roslyn studied her with no sign of her sister’s condescension. “If it’s a bad time I can come tomorrow or—”
“Why don’t you come inside and tell me what it is you want? I’ve got something for you.” Roslyn looked her up and down. “Or are you on your way to work?”
“I’m ready to go but it’s not time yet.”
Without another word Roslyn walked towards her back door. Amber was obviously expected to follow.
Inside the light and airy kitchen-come-family room, Amber paused and looked around. The room was not over-the-top grand like she had imagined it might be. The floor was wood, perhaps the original – the outside of Roslyn’s house didn’t look much newer than the cottage. At one end of the room, beside the door they’d just come through, was a cosy couch and an armchair, and at the other a kitchen with an island bench. The kitchen cupboards were the colour of golden honey. There were a few books and papers on the coffee table and a tablet but otherwise there were no ornaments or photos. A single tall plant sat in a corner and the walls were bare except for two paintings and a weird set of flying ducks.
Roslyn had her head in the fridge at the far end of the kitchen. “Sit down,” she called.
Amber perched on the edge of the pale blue couch.
“I was going to bring you some of this savoury tart I made.” Roslyn carried a container over and placed it in a space on the low table in front of Amber then took a seat opposite.
“You don’t have to keep feeding me.”
“I know but as you probably understand, cooking for one isn’t that wonderful. I either can’t be bothered or I end up with way too much.”
Amber glanced at the container. “Thanks.”
“You might not thank me. I think I overdid the onion. My sister’s the one who can cook. That gene skipped me.” Roslyn smiled and a whole new woman was revealed.
“She sure doesn’t like me.”
“Take no notice of Margot, she can be a bit—”
“Rude.”
Roslyn quirked an eyebrow. “Protective. Don’t be too bothered by her. She’s as soft as butter underneath.”
Amber’s resolve returned. “I’ve been looking for rentals again.”
“No luck, I assume.”
“No, so…I was wondering if I could stay on for…for a while. I’ll keep trying to find a place but it’s not easy.”
“So I understand.”
“I’ll pay though, if I could stay a bit longer.”
Roslyn frowned. “When you say ‘a bit longer’ you mean…?”
Amber winced. “I don’t know.”
Silence fell between them and once more frustration flared and gnawed inside Amber, an incessant ache she never seemed to be able to fully extinguish. Here she was begging again and what for? To keep a roof over her head instead of sleeping in her car. Roslyn had said she could only stay a while and she’d been here well over a week already. It had been silly to think it might go on. She leaped to her feet and made for the door.
“Amber, I—”
“Forget it!” Amber stalked out the door and shut it loudly behind her. Hot tears of rage dribbled down her cheeks. She batted them away and swore all the way back to the cottage.
Roslyn sat for a moment in the silence that followed Amber’s departure. It had been such a mixed bag of a day, unexpected in so many ways. The sale of Gunter’s property had been finalised and her portion of the final amount was significant, but it was the rest of Gunter’s wishes that had surprised her the most.
He’d wanted his dear friend Roslyn, as he’d called her in his bequest, to work out the best way to spend or invest the rest of the money from the sale of his property to benefit those in need in the local community. Roslyn had at first been speechless and then protested, of course. What did she know about charity work except that she donated money to it? Elvin and Gunter’s sons had reassured her that she was the right person for the job and that Elvin would be her support and the one to oversee any plan into action. They’d also urged her to keep her research and plans secret, lest she be inundated by any group or organisation that got wind of the money. And now there was Amber’s request, which just added to the oddness of the day.
Roslyn straightened the two magazines on the table and glanced around her comfortable home. Life hadn’t been easy for her but her hard work had brought many pleasures. She’d never had to worry about keeping a roof over her head, never been without the support of family, never been pregnant and alone. In light of all that had been revealed by Gunter’s sons and Elvin at lunch today, more good fortune was coming her way. All due to Gunter, of course. Her gaze focused on the ducks and a smile twitched at her lips. Only because they were his would she allow them to sprawl across a space in her otherwise sparsely adorned home. She contemplated her dear friend and wondered what he’d make of Amber and her situation. She was fairly sure she knew the answer.
She pushed backwards, arching against the pain in her back, then rose carefully to her feet, picked up the tart container and let herself out. At the cottage door she hesitated. The old wooden door beyond the screen was shut but Amber’s car was still there so Roslyn assumed she was inside.
She pulled back the screen and knocked.
There was no sound beyond the door. No indication that Amber had heard her. She lifted her hand to knock again as the door lurched open, the bottom scraping loudly on the slate floor in protest. Amber stood beyond it glaring back at her.
Roslyn held up the container. “You forgot the tart.”
The girl made no move to accept or to retreat.
Roslyn drew the container back to her body and straightened. “And you didn’t let me finish what I was going to say.”
One of Amber’s arched eyebrows tweaked.
“May I come in?”
Amber stepped back. “It’s your place.” She spun and walked back into the cottage.
Roslyn followed then paused at the lounge door. The room was neat and tidy. So different to the last time she’d visited. Except for Amber’s bag on the couch, some plastic crates stacked against a wall and several of the books from the bookcase sitting on the end of the dining table, it was as if no-one had been there. She crossed to the table, put down the container and picked up the top book. It was a well-thumbed copy of Dion Leonard’s Finding Gobi. Roslyn smiled. She put it back and turned to Amber, who was standing with her arms folded defiantly over her chest, the scowl on her face even deeper.
“There’s no TV so I thought I’d read.”
“You’re most welcome to the books.” Roslyn waved a hand at the overflowing bookcase that filled one wall. “They were my husband’s. Richard read widely and often. I’m sure he’d have been happy for you to enjoy them.”
“I’ve never been much of a reader.”
“I’m sorry about the TV.”
Amber’s scowl softened to a slight frown. “Why?”
“There is one that belongs in the cottage but it’s in the spare room at my place. I’d forgotten.”
Amber shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll be leaving soon anyway.”
This time it was Roslyn’s turn to frown. “But you asked to stay here.”
Once more Amber shrugged.
Roslyn shifted her weight to her other foot to alleviate the ache in her leg. “Can we sit and talk about this?”
Amber remained tight-lipped but moved to the other side of the dining table. They both pulled out chairs and sat.
“I prefer plain speaking.” Roslyn adjusted the position of the container she’d put on the table. “The reason I’ve been reluctant to have anyone here is twofold. I like to have the place available for my son and his family and some of my friends whenever they visit and…” She clasped her hands firmly together. “I had a very bad experience the last time I had people here on a longer-term basis.”
Her confession was met with stoney silence from across the table. The girl was not going to give an inch.
“Anyway,” Roslyn continued. “It’s unlikely my son will be back in Australia until sometime next year. And I have two spare bedrooms in the house to accommodate friends so I can manage without the cottage for a while longer.”
Amber leaned a little closer, her look wary. “Are you saying I can stay?”
“With certain conditions.”
“Here we go.” Amber flung herself back in her seat and folded her arms.
Her attitude was beginning to annoy Roslyn. Maybe Margot had had a point. “Don’t get on your high horse. I’d expect you to pay some rent, keep the place tidy and be mindful of water use.”
A small look of contrition flitted across Amber’s face before the scowl returned.
“And,” Roslyn continued, “I don’t mind you having a friend or two over but no parties.”
Amber snorted. “And here I am such a party girl with a zillion friends.”
This time Roslyn remained silent. Behind her a phone beeped, the sound one made when its battery was low.
“How much is the rent?” Amber asked.
“We can work something out, just to cover the electricity et cetera.”
“You don’t want me to do anything else?”
“Like what?”
“Clean for you, mow the grass.”
“I’m quite capable of cleaning my own place and I already pay someone to mow the grass. All you have to do is pay a bit of rent and look after the cottage. Let’s see how that goes.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll work out a figure and get back to you.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” Roslyn stood and Amber did too. She followed Roslyn to the door.
“Thanks,” she said as Roslyn let herself out.
“You’re welcome.”
“And for the food,” Amber called after her as she walked away.
Roslyn waved over her shoulder. At least the girl’s scowl was gone. Roslyn had hoped she was doing the right thing when she’d made her way to the cottage. It might come back to bite her like last time but the look on Amber’s face at the offer of a roof over her head for a while longer was worth it – Roslyn glanced towards her side fence – and she could be truthful now if Margot quizzed her on the rent.
seventeen
Margot wandered aimlessly around her garden. She’d marched inside after her words with Roslyn but the house had felt hollow and empty and she’d come straight back out. It was a beautiful afternoon and the garden bloomed with roses, lavender and rhododendrons. The bees were loving the lavender and butterflies flitted over the flowers and in and out of the shadows cast by the magnolia and Japanese maple trees. The warm scent of summer filled the air but still Margot felt cold.
She huddled into herself as she rambled along the path towards the back of the yard. Her dad had helped her plan this garden when the house had been built. It was extensive and had been added to over the years to include the lawned area with children’s swing and slide that the path skirted around and went on to reveal a hidden gazebo and an arbour of bigger trees. She stopped before she reached them. The path continued on, leading to the vegetable and fruit garden at the back. It was a lot of work. She and Dennis had done much of it themselves under her dad’s direction. The garden had grown as her children had grown and now her grandchildren got to enjoy it too. These days they employed someone to do most of the heavy work but Margot still oversaw it and did some of the easier jobs herself. Trouble was, today the sight of it didn’t bring her any joy.
After her argument with Kath, the real reason she’d left work early, she’d gone to Roslyn’s for a sisterly shoulder to cry on. Instead of finding her sister there’d been the shock of that awful girl being there and Margot had been horrified to learn she was living in the cottage. Then when Roslyn had turned up they’d had a row and now here she was, alone and miserable. Dennis wouldn’t be home for hours and there were things she could do inside but she didn’t feel like sorting through the clothes she’d been planning to donate to Dress for Success or stripping the spare beds Nick’s boys had slept in when they’d last stayed over or cleaning the oven, which had been on her list a while now, nor did she feel like preparing dinner.
She imagined sitting with Roslyn by her pool, sharing a bottle of wine. It had been their ritual for years. Dennis usually put on drinks for his staff on a Friday and Richard had often done something with his university colleagues. Friday was usually Roslyn’s early finish – she’d always worked such long hours and so hard. The two of them would spend a couple of hours mulling over the week that had been. Roslyn brought a sense of calm to Margot’s frazzled life and Margot liked to think she brought some light and humour to Roslyn’s more serious, studious world. Of course it had been interrupted when poor Richard took sick and then died but they’d resumed their weekly catch-ups, although sometimes it would be Saturday or even Sunday if Roslyn’s roster changed or other events took precedence.
Since Roslyn had retired two years prior and The General Providore had become busier, their weekly chat had become more haphazard. They still saw a lot of each other – the family dinners, dropping in with veggies, calling in for a coffee or to borrow something – but they weren’t the same as their regular chewing-the-fat sessions.
Margot could swallow her pride and go back to Roslyn’s but the worm of annoyance and hurt still squirmed inside. She was often the peacemaker, turning the other cheek to Roslyn’s sharp tongue. Margot understood her sister never meant harm, it was just the way she was, but today her barbs had hurt more than usual and Margot wasn’t quite ready to forgive her. Her dad would have said she was cutting off her nose to spite her face.
Margot smiled. “Dear Dad,” she murmured. He’d been gone several years but how she missed him. His good common sense, that was often dished out abruptly but without the barbs Roslyn was capable of, and his warm welcomes, as if Margot was the most important person in his life. Towards the end she assumed she truly was. It was Margot who’d cooked for him, taken him to appointments, did the jobs around the house that the support people didn’t.
Her phone pinged. A message from Em. She beamed at a photo of Henry playing in the sandpit, one hand on a digger and the other hovering mid-air, and a look of determined concentration on his cherubic face. Had a good day at childcare was the caption. Margot had forgotten it was his first day. She sent a love heart emoji back and opened her Facebook page, scrolling through the ads for clothes, some posts from chefs she followed, travel photos from interstate friends, and then remembered the group Fred had set up, Jesserton Jabber, he’d called it. She’d sent a join request a few days earlier and she’d been accepted. Fred had put up the usual admin rules and several people had thanked him for creating it, including Thelma, whose responses were invariably in capitals.
Margot started a post saying she had an appointment with the council planning officer for next Monday and that she’d organise a date for a meeting after that to share the information. She’d barely pressed post when someone began typing. She watched the small dots dance on the screen.
Thelma: THANK YOU MARGOT.
Thelma had been in for her daily coffee as usual and seemed to have forgiven Margot for Nick’s bill. More dots danced.
Sozz PO: Good that youre on it already
“Sozz” was Sarah from the post office. After Thelma, she knew most about what was happening around town.
Greg: Good luck
The dots danced again, back and forth, taking an age, until finally a message appeared.
Thelma: TELL KATH THE NEW SLICE I TRIED THIS MORNING WAS DELICIOUS.
Margot resisted the urge to respond that Kath was also a member of the group. Then another message appeared.
Golds: Give them what for from us
It was one or other of the Threadgolds – she assumed Martin; it didn’t sound like a comment the more gently spoken Anne would make. Tyres crunched on the driveway and Margot put her phone away. She wasn’t expecting anyone at five o’clock on a Friday but she welcomed the interruption, even if it was only a parcel delivery.
She went through the side gate and was surprised to see Dennis’s black Audi, as she now knew it to be, in the garage and the roller door slowly descending. She retraced her steps to the back of the house as she heard him calling her. They both arrived in the outdoor room at the same time, Dennis almost hidden by a huge box wrapped in cellophane and tied with a black, white and red ribbon.
“What’s going on?” she asked as he lowered the box to the table and swept her up in a hug.
“We’ve done it, Margot.”
“Done what?” She glanced over the box of expensive food and spied a bottle of Dom Pérignon tucked into one corner.
Dennis gripped her hands and looked directly into her eyes. The excitement in his gaze lifted her spirits.
“Has something happened? A change with Gunter’s land…”
He frowned and dropped her hands. “Not that I know of. This is about the car dealership. We’ve been given the go-ahead to expand and Audi like our application so far. This box is from them.” He swept his hand in the direction of the expensive gift but Margot was busy swallowing the bitter taste of disappointment all over again.
“Sit down.” He pulled out a chair. “The Dom’s not cold but I brought home a bottle of the Pol Roger that you like so we could celebrate.”
He went inside and Margot had barely lowered herself to the chair before he was back, a bottle in one hand and a platter in the other.
“I stopped by the gourmet shop and picked up one of their cheese boards.”
Under Roslyn’s intense look the words Amber had prepared suddenly deserted her and she took a different tack. “Did you get into trouble?”
“Trouble?”
“With your sister? She didn’t look too happy that I was here.”
“She’s not. She says you were rude to her.”
“She started it.” Amber lowered her gaze to her feet and poked at a weed in the path with her shoe, wishing she hadn’t come.
A deep sigh came from Roslyn. “I don’t doubt she did. What was it you wanted?”
Amber looked up. Roslyn studied her with no sign of her sister’s condescension. “If it’s a bad time I can come tomorrow or—”
“Why don’t you come inside and tell me what it is you want? I’ve got something for you.” Roslyn looked her up and down. “Or are you on your way to work?”
“I’m ready to go but it’s not time yet.”
Without another word Roslyn walked towards her back door. Amber was obviously expected to follow.
Inside the light and airy kitchen-come-family room, Amber paused and looked around. The room was not over-the-top grand like she had imagined it might be. The floor was wood, perhaps the original – the outside of Roslyn’s house didn’t look much newer than the cottage. At one end of the room, beside the door they’d just come through, was a cosy couch and an armchair, and at the other a kitchen with an island bench. The kitchen cupboards were the colour of golden honey. There were a few books and papers on the coffee table and a tablet but otherwise there were no ornaments or photos. A single tall plant sat in a corner and the walls were bare except for two paintings and a weird set of flying ducks.
Roslyn had her head in the fridge at the far end of the kitchen. “Sit down,” she called.
Amber perched on the edge of the pale blue couch.
“I was going to bring you some of this savoury tart I made.” Roslyn carried a container over and placed it in a space on the low table in front of Amber then took a seat opposite.
“You don’t have to keep feeding me.”
“I know but as you probably understand, cooking for one isn’t that wonderful. I either can’t be bothered or I end up with way too much.”
Amber glanced at the container. “Thanks.”
“You might not thank me. I think I overdid the onion. My sister’s the one who can cook. That gene skipped me.” Roslyn smiled and a whole new woman was revealed.
“She sure doesn’t like me.”
“Take no notice of Margot, she can be a bit—”
“Rude.”
Roslyn quirked an eyebrow. “Protective. Don’t be too bothered by her. She’s as soft as butter underneath.”
Amber’s resolve returned. “I’ve been looking for rentals again.”
“No luck, I assume.”
“No, so…I was wondering if I could stay on for…for a while. I’ll keep trying to find a place but it’s not easy.”
“So I understand.”
“I’ll pay though, if I could stay a bit longer.”
Roslyn frowned. “When you say ‘a bit longer’ you mean…?”
Amber winced. “I don’t know.”
Silence fell between them and once more frustration flared and gnawed inside Amber, an incessant ache she never seemed to be able to fully extinguish. Here she was begging again and what for? To keep a roof over her head instead of sleeping in her car. Roslyn had said she could only stay a while and she’d been here well over a week already. It had been silly to think it might go on. She leaped to her feet and made for the door.
“Amber, I—”
“Forget it!” Amber stalked out the door and shut it loudly behind her. Hot tears of rage dribbled down her cheeks. She batted them away and swore all the way back to the cottage.
Roslyn sat for a moment in the silence that followed Amber’s departure. It had been such a mixed bag of a day, unexpected in so many ways. The sale of Gunter’s property had been finalised and her portion of the final amount was significant, but it was the rest of Gunter’s wishes that had surprised her the most.
He’d wanted his dear friend Roslyn, as he’d called her in his bequest, to work out the best way to spend or invest the rest of the money from the sale of his property to benefit those in need in the local community. Roslyn had at first been speechless and then protested, of course. What did she know about charity work except that she donated money to it? Elvin and Gunter’s sons had reassured her that she was the right person for the job and that Elvin would be her support and the one to oversee any plan into action. They’d also urged her to keep her research and plans secret, lest she be inundated by any group or organisation that got wind of the money. And now there was Amber’s request, which just added to the oddness of the day.
Roslyn straightened the two magazines on the table and glanced around her comfortable home. Life hadn’t been easy for her but her hard work had brought many pleasures. She’d never had to worry about keeping a roof over her head, never been without the support of family, never been pregnant and alone. In light of all that had been revealed by Gunter’s sons and Elvin at lunch today, more good fortune was coming her way. All due to Gunter, of course. Her gaze focused on the ducks and a smile twitched at her lips. Only because they were his would she allow them to sprawl across a space in her otherwise sparsely adorned home. She contemplated her dear friend and wondered what he’d make of Amber and her situation. She was fairly sure she knew the answer.
She pushed backwards, arching against the pain in her back, then rose carefully to her feet, picked up the tart container and let herself out. At the cottage door she hesitated. The old wooden door beyond the screen was shut but Amber’s car was still there so Roslyn assumed she was inside.
She pulled back the screen and knocked.
There was no sound beyond the door. No indication that Amber had heard her. She lifted her hand to knock again as the door lurched open, the bottom scraping loudly on the slate floor in protest. Amber stood beyond it glaring back at her.
Roslyn held up the container. “You forgot the tart.”
The girl made no move to accept or to retreat.
Roslyn drew the container back to her body and straightened. “And you didn’t let me finish what I was going to say.”
One of Amber’s arched eyebrows tweaked.
“May I come in?”
Amber stepped back. “It’s your place.” She spun and walked back into the cottage.
Roslyn followed then paused at the lounge door. The room was neat and tidy. So different to the last time she’d visited. Except for Amber’s bag on the couch, some plastic crates stacked against a wall and several of the books from the bookcase sitting on the end of the dining table, it was as if no-one had been there. She crossed to the table, put down the container and picked up the top book. It was a well-thumbed copy of Dion Leonard’s Finding Gobi. Roslyn smiled. She put it back and turned to Amber, who was standing with her arms folded defiantly over her chest, the scowl on her face even deeper.
“There’s no TV so I thought I’d read.”
“You’re most welcome to the books.” Roslyn waved a hand at the overflowing bookcase that filled one wall. “They were my husband’s. Richard read widely and often. I’m sure he’d have been happy for you to enjoy them.”
“I’ve never been much of a reader.”
“I’m sorry about the TV.”
Amber’s scowl softened to a slight frown. “Why?”
“There is one that belongs in the cottage but it’s in the spare room at my place. I’d forgotten.”
Amber shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll be leaving soon anyway.”
This time it was Roslyn’s turn to frown. “But you asked to stay here.”
Once more Amber shrugged.
Roslyn shifted her weight to her other foot to alleviate the ache in her leg. “Can we sit and talk about this?”
Amber remained tight-lipped but moved to the other side of the dining table. They both pulled out chairs and sat.
“I prefer plain speaking.” Roslyn adjusted the position of the container she’d put on the table. “The reason I’ve been reluctant to have anyone here is twofold. I like to have the place available for my son and his family and some of my friends whenever they visit and…” She clasped her hands firmly together. “I had a very bad experience the last time I had people here on a longer-term basis.”
Her confession was met with stoney silence from across the table. The girl was not going to give an inch.
“Anyway,” Roslyn continued. “It’s unlikely my son will be back in Australia until sometime next year. And I have two spare bedrooms in the house to accommodate friends so I can manage without the cottage for a while longer.”
Amber leaned a little closer, her look wary. “Are you saying I can stay?”
“With certain conditions.”
“Here we go.” Amber flung herself back in her seat and folded her arms.
Her attitude was beginning to annoy Roslyn. Maybe Margot had had a point. “Don’t get on your high horse. I’d expect you to pay some rent, keep the place tidy and be mindful of water use.”
A small look of contrition flitted across Amber’s face before the scowl returned.
“And,” Roslyn continued, “I don’t mind you having a friend or two over but no parties.”
Amber snorted. “And here I am such a party girl with a zillion friends.”
This time Roslyn remained silent. Behind her a phone beeped, the sound one made when its battery was low.
“How much is the rent?” Amber asked.
“We can work something out, just to cover the electricity et cetera.”
“You don’t want me to do anything else?”
“Like what?”
“Clean for you, mow the grass.”
“I’m quite capable of cleaning my own place and I already pay someone to mow the grass. All you have to do is pay a bit of rent and look after the cottage. Let’s see how that goes.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll work out a figure and get back to you.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” Roslyn stood and Amber did too. She followed Roslyn to the door.
“Thanks,” she said as Roslyn let herself out.
“You’re welcome.”
“And for the food,” Amber called after her as she walked away.
Roslyn waved over her shoulder. At least the girl’s scowl was gone. Roslyn had hoped she was doing the right thing when she’d made her way to the cottage. It might come back to bite her like last time but the look on Amber’s face at the offer of a roof over her head for a while longer was worth it – Roslyn glanced towards her side fence – and she could be truthful now if Margot quizzed her on the rent.
seventeen
Margot wandered aimlessly around her garden. She’d marched inside after her words with Roslyn but the house had felt hollow and empty and she’d come straight back out. It was a beautiful afternoon and the garden bloomed with roses, lavender and rhododendrons. The bees were loving the lavender and butterflies flitted over the flowers and in and out of the shadows cast by the magnolia and Japanese maple trees. The warm scent of summer filled the air but still Margot felt cold.
She huddled into herself as she rambled along the path towards the back of the yard. Her dad had helped her plan this garden when the house had been built. It was extensive and had been added to over the years to include the lawned area with children’s swing and slide that the path skirted around and went on to reveal a hidden gazebo and an arbour of bigger trees. She stopped before she reached them. The path continued on, leading to the vegetable and fruit garden at the back. It was a lot of work. She and Dennis had done much of it themselves under her dad’s direction. The garden had grown as her children had grown and now her grandchildren got to enjoy it too. These days they employed someone to do most of the heavy work but Margot still oversaw it and did some of the easier jobs herself. Trouble was, today the sight of it didn’t bring her any joy.
After her argument with Kath, the real reason she’d left work early, she’d gone to Roslyn’s for a sisterly shoulder to cry on. Instead of finding her sister there’d been the shock of that awful girl being there and Margot had been horrified to learn she was living in the cottage. Then when Roslyn had turned up they’d had a row and now here she was, alone and miserable. Dennis wouldn’t be home for hours and there were things she could do inside but she didn’t feel like sorting through the clothes she’d been planning to donate to Dress for Success or stripping the spare beds Nick’s boys had slept in when they’d last stayed over or cleaning the oven, which had been on her list a while now, nor did she feel like preparing dinner.
She imagined sitting with Roslyn by her pool, sharing a bottle of wine. It had been their ritual for years. Dennis usually put on drinks for his staff on a Friday and Richard had often done something with his university colleagues. Friday was usually Roslyn’s early finish – she’d always worked such long hours and so hard. The two of them would spend a couple of hours mulling over the week that had been. Roslyn brought a sense of calm to Margot’s frazzled life and Margot liked to think she brought some light and humour to Roslyn’s more serious, studious world. Of course it had been interrupted when poor Richard took sick and then died but they’d resumed their weekly catch-ups, although sometimes it would be Saturday or even Sunday if Roslyn’s roster changed or other events took precedence.
Since Roslyn had retired two years prior and The General Providore had become busier, their weekly chat had become more haphazard. They still saw a lot of each other – the family dinners, dropping in with veggies, calling in for a coffee or to borrow something – but they weren’t the same as their regular chewing-the-fat sessions.
Margot could swallow her pride and go back to Roslyn’s but the worm of annoyance and hurt still squirmed inside. She was often the peacemaker, turning the other cheek to Roslyn’s sharp tongue. Margot understood her sister never meant harm, it was just the way she was, but today her barbs had hurt more than usual and Margot wasn’t quite ready to forgive her. Her dad would have said she was cutting off her nose to spite her face.
Margot smiled. “Dear Dad,” she murmured. He’d been gone several years but how she missed him. His good common sense, that was often dished out abruptly but without the barbs Roslyn was capable of, and his warm welcomes, as if Margot was the most important person in his life. Towards the end she assumed she truly was. It was Margot who’d cooked for him, taken him to appointments, did the jobs around the house that the support people didn’t.
Her phone pinged. A message from Em. She beamed at a photo of Henry playing in the sandpit, one hand on a digger and the other hovering mid-air, and a look of determined concentration on his cherubic face. Had a good day at childcare was the caption. Margot had forgotten it was his first day. She sent a love heart emoji back and opened her Facebook page, scrolling through the ads for clothes, some posts from chefs she followed, travel photos from interstate friends, and then remembered the group Fred had set up, Jesserton Jabber, he’d called it. She’d sent a join request a few days earlier and she’d been accepted. Fred had put up the usual admin rules and several people had thanked him for creating it, including Thelma, whose responses were invariably in capitals.
Margot started a post saying she had an appointment with the council planning officer for next Monday and that she’d organise a date for a meeting after that to share the information. She’d barely pressed post when someone began typing. She watched the small dots dance on the screen.
Thelma: THANK YOU MARGOT.
Thelma had been in for her daily coffee as usual and seemed to have forgiven Margot for Nick’s bill. More dots danced.
Sozz PO: Good that youre on it already
“Sozz” was Sarah from the post office. After Thelma, she knew most about what was happening around town.
Greg: Good luck
The dots danced again, back and forth, taking an age, until finally a message appeared.
Thelma: TELL KATH THE NEW SLICE I TRIED THIS MORNING WAS DELICIOUS.
Margot resisted the urge to respond that Kath was also a member of the group. Then another message appeared.
Golds: Give them what for from us
It was one or other of the Threadgolds – she assumed Martin; it didn’t sound like a comment the more gently spoken Anne would make. Tyres crunched on the driveway and Margot put her phone away. She wasn’t expecting anyone at five o’clock on a Friday but she welcomed the interruption, even if it was only a parcel delivery.
She went through the side gate and was surprised to see Dennis’s black Audi, as she now knew it to be, in the garage and the roller door slowly descending. She retraced her steps to the back of the house as she heard him calling her. They both arrived in the outdoor room at the same time, Dennis almost hidden by a huge box wrapped in cellophane and tied with a black, white and red ribbon.
“What’s going on?” she asked as he lowered the box to the table and swept her up in a hug.
“We’ve done it, Margot.”
“Done what?” She glanced over the box of expensive food and spied a bottle of Dom Pérignon tucked into one corner.
Dennis gripped her hands and looked directly into her eyes. The excitement in his gaze lifted her spirits.
“Has something happened? A change with Gunter’s land…”
He frowned and dropped her hands. “Not that I know of. This is about the car dealership. We’ve been given the go-ahead to expand and Audi like our application so far. This box is from them.” He swept his hand in the direction of the expensive gift but Margot was busy swallowing the bitter taste of disappointment all over again.
“Sit down.” He pulled out a chair. “The Dom’s not cold but I brought home a bottle of the Pol Roger that you like so we could celebrate.”
He went inside and Margot had barely lowered herself to the chair before he was back, a bottle in one hand and a platter in the other.
“I stopped by the gourmet shop and picked up one of their cheese boards.”
