Head for the Hills, page 2
“Surely that executor man would know. What was his name?”
“Elvin Wagner.”
“Martin says there’s a For Sale sign on Gunter’s place.”
“Already?”
“Yes. I thought they’d have to wait for probate to be granted before they could sell.”
“You can make the contract subject to probate.”
Margot’s eyebrows shot up.
“At least so I believe,” Roslyn added quickly. “But I’m surprised there’s a sign up so fast.”
“You didn’t know about it?”
“Why would I?” Roslyn snapped. She didn’t want Margot to know she would benefit from the sale yet.
“You and Gunter were good friends.”
“I may have received a message via his sons but I don’t have any form of communication with him from wherever he is now.”
“Don’t be smart, Roslyn. Gunter lived alone. I just thought he may have let you know what his instructions would be if he… when he died.”
“He did not.”
“Or that Elvin fellow. Surely there’s a will.”
They both glanced towards Elvin and Esther, who were still deep in conversation.
“I’m not family.”
“Fine, fine.” Margot’s placating tone was annoying. “It’s just that we offered to buy the place a few years back when he was thinking of putting it on the market.”
“I know.” He’d planned to sell before the pandemic and it had caused such a ruckus when he changed his mind when the world shut down. Dennis, and Margot even more so, had been disappointed not to have the chance to buy the land. Roslyn assumed that’s why it had been worrying Gunter again lately. He hadn’t been unwell but had talked again about selling and perhaps he’d updated his will. He wouldn’t have wanted to upset Margot and Dennis again. Roslyn had listened to his concerns over many a vineyard inspection or a cup of tea or glass of wine depending on the time of day. She hadn’t imagined this was about to happen though. Gunter had only been seventy-seven and had seemed in robust health but a stroke had taken him so swiftly that there’d been no chance for goodbyes. And now she was caught up in the sale.
“We’d better find out which agent is listing it.”
“Same people as before…” Roslyn cursed under her breath as Margot’s look sharpened. “At least that’s what I’d be guessing.”
“Dennis and I will discuss it tonight.”
“I expect it’ll be expressions of interest.”
“Why?”
Once more Roslyn cursed herself for her stupidity. It was best Margot found out the details from the agent rather than from her. “It will all take time, probate et cetera…” she said vaguely.
“Oh yes. I remember poor Dad’s paperwork took months and he didn’t even have anything very complicated. Although I don’t expect Gunter does either.”
Roslyn took a big gulp of tea, which was thankfully almost cold. She hoped Elvin would be back in touch soon with the details about Gunter’s final wishes so she knew exactly what was expected of her.
two
Three months later
All of the businesses on the main street of Jesserton were shut except for the garden shop and The General Providore. Both proprietors were out the front of their shops, one adjusting a wonky stack of pots and the other bringing in the Open sign.
It was early on a Sunday afternoon, and a glorious spring day full of promise and warmth. The main street was long and wide, and day trippers had been out in droves, their sun roofs open, or completely removed in the case of a few sporty numbers. Motorbikes with pillion passengers; vintage cars, their occupants in the jaunty caps and wide-brimmed hats of yesteryear; fourwheel drives packed with families glad to escape the city for a few hours – all of them enjoying a weekend drive in the Adelaide Hills.
Margot paused to glance up the street. As always Jesserton was as pretty as a picture, with paved footpaths and lawned verges touting a leafy green tree exactly in the middle of each plot. Some lawns were tended better than others and even had the addition of aggies or daisies in neat clumps, and some trees had been replaced where disease or decline had claimed the predecessor but there was a sense of neatness and quaintness. Houses, mostly old villas and cottages, sat behind fences of wrought iron, stone, picket or more modern aluminium. It was mid-November and there was the odd extra splash of colour with red bows, green wreaths and colourful baubles where some had begun adding Christmas decorations to their fences and homes – all discreet yet festive. Margot had recently overseen the setting up of a carefully crafted Christmas tree made from recycled wine barrel staves in her shop. One of the casual staff had helped decorate it with dainty red baubles and Margot had personally placed the wooden star entwined with tiny lights at the top.
At the low end of the street where she stood outside the food and local produce store Margot and her co-owner and friend Kath had proudly named The General Providore, there was also a garden shop and a post office. And opposite was a butcher, a small run-down supermarket, a hair and nail salon, and a hall.
Greg from the garden shop waved to Margot as she shut the Providore’s sandwich board with a snap and leaned it against a verandah post. Then he wandered over as she stacked her outside chairs.
“It’s been busy enough,” he said. “Are you closing early?”
“Yes.” Margot eyeballed the leather-clad couple taking their time over an oat milk cappuccino and a soy latte at one of the outdoor tables. “It’s family dinner night at my place so I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Anything else I can help with?”
“No thanks, Greg. Lani’s cleaned inside so I sent her home early. We’ve been busy but it’s gone quiet now.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “No-one since these two.”
She was relieved to see the couple rise from their chairs and pick up their helmets. The Providore was open till three on Sundays, according to the sign in the window. It was only a little after two but she planned to close as soon as they left.
“Thelma was in earlier,” Greg said. “Evidently Teakles have sold the supermarket.”
They both looked across to the forlorn little shop over the road.
“Yes, Thelma came in here too. But how many times have we heard that rumour?” Margot said. “It’s sad to say it but they’ve let the place deteriorate. I think they’ll eventually have to just close the doors and walk away.”
Greg nodded sagely. “Sounds like Gunter’s place has finally sold too.”
Margot’s heart skipped a beat. Thelma had also mentioned that. Margot and Dennis had put in their best offer two weeks ago, a week before the final date for expressions of interest. “It’s still speculation as to who’s bought it.”
“Maybe the winery that’s purchasing his grapes got it?”
“No-one knows who’s put in an offer.” Margot nibbled at the corner of her nail. She and Dennis had decided to keep silent about their bid. Even their family didn’t know. It had been the longest few months keeping it to themselves. Margot had badly wanted to tell Emily. The plan was their daughter and family would move into Gunter’s cottage after some much-needed renovations. Keeping it from Roslyn had been the hardest of all. Normally she’d confide such a momentous decision but not this time. There’d been such a fuss a few years ago when Gunter had changed his mind about selling. Margot had told everyone they were bidding and the great ideas they had for the place. It had been both devastating and embarrassing when it had come to nothing. This time Dennis had insisted they keep quiet in case it didn’t happen but Margot felt sure the place would be theirs. She couldn’t bear to imagine the alternative.
The agent had said she didn’t have to inform those parties who hadn’t been successful so they’d likely only hear if they’d got it, but Dennis had assured Margot he’d pulled out all stops to make sure their offer was a good one, well above the market value.
“You sure Roslyn doesn’t know anything?” Greg said.
“Why on earth would she?”
“She’s been looking after the place and acting as go-between for Gunter’s sons. She might have heard something.”
“Yes, but the expressions of interest would be confidential.” Margot spoke with an authority she didn’t truly feel. Did Roslyn know more than she let on about Gunter’s affairs? Was it possible that Margot wasn’t the only one keeping secrets?
“He always got a good price for his grapes,” Greg said.
Another reason Margot and Dennis would like the property. “He has some of the oldest pinot noir and chardonnay vines in the Hills. They’re sought-after varieties that always do well. Gunter cared for those vines like they were his children.”
Greg snorted. “They were better company than his real children.”
“Yes, well, since he died Roslyn’s taken her role as caretaker seriously. She meets with the viticulturist from Hillvale Winery every couple of weeks.”
“She was in earlier.”
“Was she?” Margot wondered why her sister hadn’t called in at the Providore.
“Organic fertiliser and some basil. Evidently she lost her last plant in that recent burst of heat.”
Margot smiled. She and Roslyn had lived in Jesserton most of their lives, as had Greg. There was little any of them didn’t know about each other’s activities, down to whatever they purchased at the local shops. It truly was amazing that the bidders for Gunter’s property remained unknown. For one giddy instant she imagined the offer she and Dennis had made was the only one.
The rumble of the motorbike drew her attention back to the moment. It revved then roared away from the kerb and up the street, carrying off the last of her customers.
“I’ll get this cleared and be off. See you next week.” Margot strode to the empty table. She couldn’t wait to get home. It was extremely possible that she and Dennis would soon be the owners of Gunter’s property.
The vacated kerb space was swiftly filled by a station wagon. A young woman got out, peered at the shop and moved around her car.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” Margot said. Up close the woman was barely more than a girl with tatty, loose clothing. Her hair was streaked with purple and looked like it would benefit from a decent wash and cut.
“I only want a coffee and maybe a ready-made sandwich.”
Margot would have smiled and offered an apology but the girl’s tone was defiant rather than a polite request.
“The coffee machine’s off and the food’s cleaned out.” Margot had packed all the leftovers up ready for the volunteer from Tea on Sunday to collect. The local churches provided a meal for those in need in the nearby town of Sheffield and the Prov always donated. She could have offered her something but the girl’s attitude didn’t deserve courtesy. People who attended the free community meal would be far more grateful. “I’m closing up for the day.”
She turned away and behind her she heard the girl mutter something that sounded like “bitch”. Margot spun back, but a sleek black car pulling into the space behind the station wagon distracted her. The passenger window lowered and the slightly dishevelled face of the local mayor peered out at her.
“I’m glad I caught you,” Esther said. “I’ll come in.” Before Margot could respond the window slid up and the driver’s door opened. “I was hoping you’d have something I could grab to eat on my way to the next event.”
“Of course.” Margot didn’t know Esther well, only because she was the mayor and their paths had crossed at meetings or events. She was a strikingly good-looking woman who did everything with an air of confidence. Right now that confidence was striding past Margot towards the shop door. She turned as Esther passed her and caught the eye of the girl, who was glaring back from over the roof her car. She raised a finger at Margot then climbed into the car and drove away.
Guilt churned her stomach, conjuring a sour taste.
“I won’t keep you long,” Esther said as Margot followed her into the shop.
“It’s fine,” she said, even though it wasn’t. Here she was allowing the mayor some food she’d denied the girl who’d looked like she could do with some sustenance. It wouldn’t have hurt to have given her one of the leftover wraps and perhaps even told her about Tea on Sunday. Margot shook her head at her own lack of charity. Something about the girl had got up her nose and Margot’s hackles had risen.
Esther cast a quick glance around the shop. “Things are going well here?” Despite her make-up and hair looking a bit untidy, she still looked amazing in a smart tailored two-piece suit that hugged her trim waist and a pair of very high-heeled shoes that Margot envied even though she knew she’d never manage them herself.
“Yes, we’re kept reasonably busy.”
“Tourists and locals alike, I suppose.” Esther turned and this time her gaze swept Margot. “You’re quite a worker in the community, aren’t you?”
Margot shifted from one foot to the other under her scrutiny. “We all do our bit, don’t we?” She thought again of the girl she’d turned away.
“But you do more than most. Supporting community events, local charities and the like. Rallying people over the nature playground showed a lot of foresight and common sense. And you were on council.”
“That was years ago and only one term. Before Kath and I started the Prov.”
“You’re a popular person in the community.”
Margot wasn’t sure what to say. The praise was both unexpected and baffling.
“Have you thought of running for council again?”
“I…me…no.” Margot wished she was sitting down.
“You’ve lived here a long time – you know lots of people.” Esther cast out a hand to take in the shop. “You’ve obviously got a good brain for business.”
“It’s kind of you to say but—”
“I’m not saying it to be kind. We need people like you on council.” Esther lowered her voice. “One of my councillors is… might have to retire. That would mean a by-election.”
Margot shook her head. “I don’t think…”
Esther lifted her arm, peered at her watch a moment then tugged her sleeves straight. “I’ve got another stop before I get to the next event. You should think about it.” With a sharp nod she turned on her high heels and strode out.
It wasn’t until Margot was locking the door behind her that she realised Esther hadn’t taken anything to eat.
On a good day Roslyn walked into town to get her mail and any necessary supplies. It was only a kilometre away and downhill. Trouble was the return journey was uphill and on a bad day it felt like she was climbing Mount Everest. Today was a bad day, only she hadn’t realised that until she was halfway home. Sometimes the pain surprised her but it was certainly happening more often. Now the string bag with the bottle of fertiliser and the two basil plants dragged at the end of her arm. She fought to draw air into her lungs and pain coursed down her left leg with every step. She felt every one of her sixty-seven years plus some.
She paused and leaned one arm on the stone wall surrounding the Lutheran church, admiring the architecture from afar while slowly recovering her breath. She hadn’t been inside since Gunter’s funeral. She swallowed the quick stab of sorrow that surprised her from time to time. She still missed Gunter so much and felt the weight of the responsibility he’d given her, which she’d kept to herself as much as was possible.
She fixed her gaze on the old church in front of her. Facing the road were two impressive arched windows, set in the white stucco walls. The whole building was topped with a new roof of deep-red corrugated steel that had taken some years to save for. Roslyn had quietly donated money even though she was no longer a parishioner. Her parents would have had they been alive, and Roslyn thought they’d be happy she carried on the custom. Her Jesser ancestors had been the original German settlers the town had been named for. She’d kept her surname when she’d married, wanting to continue the Jesser tradition.
A car swung in beside her. She cursed under her breath as she recognised the vibrant green duco. The window buzzed down. She wasn’t in the mood to be fussed over by her little sister.
“Need a ride?” Margot said. “I’m on my way home from the shop. I can drop you on the way past. I’m not organised for dinner. It totally threw me to have to cover for Kath at the Providore today. And you’ll never guess who called in as I was closing…the mayor.”
Roslyn climbed in, pleased that Margot’s focus was on other things and not on Roslyn’s struggle to get up the hill. She tried not to wince as she lifted her left leg into the car. “I suppose even the mayor has to eat.”
“But that’s the strange thing. She said she did but she talked to me about council and—” Margot pursed her lips. “Well, it was all a bit odd, that’s all. Held me up and dinner’s not prepared.”
Roslyn clutched the armrest as Margot’s tyres spun in the loose gravel and they rocketed out onto the road. Her sister clearly had things on her mind.
“I thought Dennis was cooking a barbecue.”
“He is but there’re still things to finish off and the salad to make. I’ve brought a selection of leftover mini cheesecakes and a slice from the shop for dessert.” She jabbed her thumb towards some containers on the seat behind her. “I was going to make a raspberry vacherin but covering for Kath didn’t leave me time to do the meringue.”
“Take me to your place. I’ll cut through the yard.”
Margot and Roslyn shared a fence line and easily accessed each other’s homes via the gate between them. What had once been one of their parents’ properties had been subdivided when their mother had died. Their father had wanted rid of the parcel of land at the top of the hill overlooking Jesserton. It had been more their mother’s passion. She’d had horses and ideas to plant more vines and fruit trees. He’d split the hilltop paddocks for his daughters and kept the house just down the road in town for himself.
Margot had been seventeen and Roslyn twenty-four. It had been perfect for her. She’d been able to move out of the family home into the old stone house that stood on her portion of the property. Several years later, when Margot had married Dennis they’d built a new house on their parcel of land.
“Elvin Wagner.”
“Martin says there’s a For Sale sign on Gunter’s place.”
“Already?”
“Yes. I thought they’d have to wait for probate to be granted before they could sell.”
“You can make the contract subject to probate.”
Margot’s eyebrows shot up.
“At least so I believe,” Roslyn added quickly. “But I’m surprised there’s a sign up so fast.”
“You didn’t know about it?”
“Why would I?” Roslyn snapped. She didn’t want Margot to know she would benefit from the sale yet.
“You and Gunter were good friends.”
“I may have received a message via his sons but I don’t have any form of communication with him from wherever he is now.”
“Don’t be smart, Roslyn. Gunter lived alone. I just thought he may have let you know what his instructions would be if he… when he died.”
“He did not.”
“Or that Elvin fellow. Surely there’s a will.”
They both glanced towards Elvin and Esther, who were still deep in conversation.
“I’m not family.”
“Fine, fine.” Margot’s placating tone was annoying. “It’s just that we offered to buy the place a few years back when he was thinking of putting it on the market.”
“I know.” He’d planned to sell before the pandemic and it had caused such a ruckus when he changed his mind when the world shut down. Dennis, and Margot even more so, had been disappointed not to have the chance to buy the land. Roslyn assumed that’s why it had been worrying Gunter again lately. He hadn’t been unwell but had talked again about selling and perhaps he’d updated his will. He wouldn’t have wanted to upset Margot and Dennis again. Roslyn had listened to his concerns over many a vineyard inspection or a cup of tea or glass of wine depending on the time of day. She hadn’t imagined this was about to happen though. Gunter had only been seventy-seven and had seemed in robust health but a stroke had taken him so swiftly that there’d been no chance for goodbyes. And now she was caught up in the sale.
“We’d better find out which agent is listing it.”
“Same people as before…” Roslyn cursed under her breath as Margot’s look sharpened. “At least that’s what I’d be guessing.”
“Dennis and I will discuss it tonight.”
“I expect it’ll be expressions of interest.”
“Why?”
Once more Roslyn cursed herself for her stupidity. It was best Margot found out the details from the agent rather than from her. “It will all take time, probate et cetera…” she said vaguely.
“Oh yes. I remember poor Dad’s paperwork took months and he didn’t even have anything very complicated. Although I don’t expect Gunter does either.”
Roslyn took a big gulp of tea, which was thankfully almost cold. She hoped Elvin would be back in touch soon with the details about Gunter’s final wishes so she knew exactly what was expected of her.
two
Three months later
All of the businesses on the main street of Jesserton were shut except for the garden shop and The General Providore. Both proprietors were out the front of their shops, one adjusting a wonky stack of pots and the other bringing in the Open sign.
It was early on a Sunday afternoon, and a glorious spring day full of promise and warmth. The main street was long and wide, and day trippers had been out in droves, their sun roofs open, or completely removed in the case of a few sporty numbers. Motorbikes with pillion passengers; vintage cars, their occupants in the jaunty caps and wide-brimmed hats of yesteryear; fourwheel drives packed with families glad to escape the city for a few hours – all of them enjoying a weekend drive in the Adelaide Hills.
Margot paused to glance up the street. As always Jesserton was as pretty as a picture, with paved footpaths and lawned verges touting a leafy green tree exactly in the middle of each plot. Some lawns were tended better than others and even had the addition of aggies or daisies in neat clumps, and some trees had been replaced where disease or decline had claimed the predecessor but there was a sense of neatness and quaintness. Houses, mostly old villas and cottages, sat behind fences of wrought iron, stone, picket or more modern aluminium. It was mid-November and there was the odd extra splash of colour with red bows, green wreaths and colourful baubles where some had begun adding Christmas decorations to their fences and homes – all discreet yet festive. Margot had recently overseen the setting up of a carefully crafted Christmas tree made from recycled wine barrel staves in her shop. One of the casual staff had helped decorate it with dainty red baubles and Margot had personally placed the wooden star entwined with tiny lights at the top.
At the low end of the street where she stood outside the food and local produce store Margot and her co-owner and friend Kath had proudly named The General Providore, there was also a garden shop and a post office. And opposite was a butcher, a small run-down supermarket, a hair and nail salon, and a hall.
Greg from the garden shop waved to Margot as she shut the Providore’s sandwich board with a snap and leaned it against a verandah post. Then he wandered over as she stacked her outside chairs.
“It’s been busy enough,” he said. “Are you closing early?”
“Yes.” Margot eyeballed the leather-clad couple taking their time over an oat milk cappuccino and a soy latte at one of the outdoor tables. “It’s family dinner night at my place so I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Anything else I can help with?”
“No thanks, Greg. Lani’s cleaned inside so I sent her home early. We’ve been busy but it’s gone quiet now.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “No-one since these two.”
She was relieved to see the couple rise from their chairs and pick up their helmets. The Providore was open till three on Sundays, according to the sign in the window. It was only a little after two but she planned to close as soon as they left.
“Thelma was in earlier,” Greg said. “Evidently Teakles have sold the supermarket.”
They both looked across to the forlorn little shop over the road.
“Yes, Thelma came in here too. But how many times have we heard that rumour?” Margot said. “It’s sad to say it but they’ve let the place deteriorate. I think they’ll eventually have to just close the doors and walk away.”
Greg nodded sagely. “Sounds like Gunter’s place has finally sold too.”
Margot’s heart skipped a beat. Thelma had also mentioned that. Margot and Dennis had put in their best offer two weeks ago, a week before the final date for expressions of interest. “It’s still speculation as to who’s bought it.”
“Maybe the winery that’s purchasing his grapes got it?”
“No-one knows who’s put in an offer.” Margot nibbled at the corner of her nail. She and Dennis had decided to keep silent about their bid. Even their family didn’t know. It had been the longest few months keeping it to themselves. Margot had badly wanted to tell Emily. The plan was their daughter and family would move into Gunter’s cottage after some much-needed renovations. Keeping it from Roslyn had been the hardest of all. Normally she’d confide such a momentous decision but not this time. There’d been such a fuss a few years ago when Gunter had changed his mind about selling. Margot had told everyone they were bidding and the great ideas they had for the place. It had been both devastating and embarrassing when it had come to nothing. This time Dennis had insisted they keep quiet in case it didn’t happen but Margot felt sure the place would be theirs. She couldn’t bear to imagine the alternative.
The agent had said she didn’t have to inform those parties who hadn’t been successful so they’d likely only hear if they’d got it, but Dennis had assured Margot he’d pulled out all stops to make sure their offer was a good one, well above the market value.
“You sure Roslyn doesn’t know anything?” Greg said.
“Why on earth would she?”
“She’s been looking after the place and acting as go-between for Gunter’s sons. She might have heard something.”
“Yes, but the expressions of interest would be confidential.” Margot spoke with an authority she didn’t truly feel. Did Roslyn know more than she let on about Gunter’s affairs? Was it possible that Margot wasn’t the only one keeping secrets?
“He always got a good price for his grapes,” Greg said.
Another reason Margot and Dennis would like the property. “He has some of the oldest pinot noir and chardonnay vines in the Hills. They’re sought-after varieties that always do well. Gunter cared for those vines like they were his children.”
Greg snorted. “They were better company than his real children.”
“Yes, well, since he died Roslyn’s taken her role as caretaker seriously. She meets with the viticulturist from Hillvale Winery every couple of weeks.”
“She was in earlier.”
“Was she?” Margot wondered why her sister hadn’t called in at the Providore.
“Organic fertiliser and some basil. Evidently she lost her last plant in that recent burst of heat.”
Margot smiled. She and Roslyn had lived in Jesserton most of their lives, as had Greg. There was little any of them didn’t know about each other’s activities, down to whatever they purchased at the local shops. It truly was amazing that the bidders for Gunter’s property remained unknown. For one giddy instant she imagined the offer she and Dennis had made was the only one.
The rumble of the motorbike drew her attention back to the moment. It revved then roared away from the kerb and up the street, carrying off the last of her customers.
“I’ll get this cleared and be off. See you next week.” Margot strode to the empty table. She couldn’t wait to get home. It was extremely possible that she and Dennis would soon be the owners of Gunter’s property.
The vacated kerb space was swiftly filled by a station wagon. A young woman got out, peered at the shop and moved around her car.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” Margot said. Up close the woman was barely more than a girl with tatty, loose clothing. Her hair was streaked with purple and looked like it would benefit from a decent wash and cut.
“I only want a coffee and maybe a ready-made sandwich.”
Margot would have smiled and offered an apology but the girl’s tone was defiant rather than a polite request.
“The coffee machine’s off and the food’s cleaned out.” Margot had packed all the leftovers up ready for the volunteer from Tea on Sunday to collect. The local churches provided a meal for those in need in the nearby town of Sheffield and the Prov always donated. She could have offered her something but the girl’s attitude didn’t deserve courtesy. People who attended the free community meal would be far more grateful. “I’m closing up for the day.”
She turned away and behind her she heard the girl mutter something that sounded like “bitch”. Margot spun back, but a sleek black car pulling into the space behind the station wagon distracted her. The passenger window lowered and the slightly dishevelled face of the local mayor peered out at her.
“I’m glad I caught you,” Esther said. “I’ll come in.” Before Margot could respond the window slid up and the driver’s door opened. “I was hoping you’d have something I could grab to eat on my way to the next event.”
“Of course.” Margot didn’t know Esther well, only because she was the mayor and their paths had crossed at meetings or events. She was a strikingly good-looking woman who did everything with an air of confidence. Right now that confidence was striding past Margot towards the shop door. She turned as Esther passed her and caught the eye of the girl, who was glaring back from over the roof her car. She raised a finger at Margot then climbed into the car and drove away.
Guilt churned her stomach, conjuring a sour taste.
“I won’t keep you long,” Esther said as Margot followed her into the shop.
“It’s fine,” she said, even though it wasn’t. Here she was allowing the mayor some food she’d denied the girl who’d looked like she could do with some sustenance. It wouldn’t have hurt to have given her one of the leftover wraps and perhaps even told her about Tea on Sunday. Margot shook her head at her own lack of charity. Something about the girl had got up her nose and Margot’s hackles had risen.
Esther cast a quick glance around the shop. “Things are going well here?” Despite her make-up and hair looking a bit untidy, she still looked amazing in a smart tailored two-piece suit that hugged her trim waist and a pair of very high-heeled shoes that Margot envied even though she knew she’d never manage them herself.
“Yes, we’re kept reasonably busy.”
“Tourists and locals alike, I suppose.” Esther turned and this time her gaze swept Margot. “You’re quite a worker in the community, aren’t you?”
Margot shifted from one foot to the other under her scrutiny. “We all do our bit, don’t we?” She thought again of the girl she’d turned away.
“But you do more than most. Supporting community events, local charities and the like. Rallying people over the nature playground showed a lot of foresight and common sense. And you were on council.”
“That was years ago and only one term. Before Kath and I started the Prov.”
“You’re a popular person in the community.”
Margot wasn’t sure what to say. The praise was both unexpected and baffling.
“Have you thought of running for council again?”
“I…me…no.” Margot wished she was sitting down.
“You’ve lived here a long time – you know lots of people.” Esther cast out a hand to take in the shop. “You’ve obviously got a good brain for business.”
“It’s kind of you to say but—”
“I’m not saying it to be kind. We need people like you on council.” Esther lowered her voice. “One of my councillors is… might have to retire. That would mean a by-election.”
Margot shook her head. “I don’t think…”
Esther lifted her arm, peered at her watch a moment then tugged her sleeves straight. “I’ve got another stop before I get to the next event. You should think about it.” With a sharp nod she turned on her high heels and strode out.
It wasn’t until Margot was locking the door behind her that she realised Esther hadn’t taken anything to eat.
On a good day Roslyn walked into town to get her mail and any necessary supplies. It was only a kilometre away and downhill. Trouble was the return journey was uphill and on a bad day it felt like she was climbing Mount Everest. Today was a bad day, only she hadn’t realised that until she was halfway home. Sometimes the pain surprised her but it was certainly happening more often. Now the string bag with the bottle of fertiliser and the two basil plants dragged at the end of her arm. She fought to draw air into her lungs and pain coursed down her left leg with every step. She felt every one of her sixty-seven years plus some.
She paused and leaned one arm on the stone wall surrounding the Lutheran church, admiring the architecture from afar while slowly recovering her breath. She hadn’t been inside since Gunter’s funeral. She swallowed the quick stab of sorrow that surprised her from time to time. She still missed Gunter so much and felt the weight of the responsibility he’d given her, which she’d kept to herself as much as was possible.
She fixed her gaze on the old church in front of her. Facing the road were two impressive arched windows, set in the white stucco walls. The whole building was topped with a new roof of deep-red corrugated steel that had taken some years to save for. Roslyn had quietly donated money even though she was no longer a parishioner. Her parents would have had they been alive, and Roslyn thought they’d be happy she carried on the custom. Her Jesser ancestors had been the original German settlers the town had been named for. She’d kept her surname when she’d married, wanting to continue the Jesser tradition.
A car swung in beside her. She cursed under her breath as she recognised the vibrant green duco. The window buzzed down. She wasn’t in the mood to be fussed over by her little sister.
“Need a ride?” Margot said. “I’m on my way home from the shop. I can drop you on the way past. I’m not organised for dinner. It totally threw me to have to cover for Kath at the Providore today. And you’ll never guess who called in as I was closing…the mayor.”
Roslyn climbed in, pleased that Margot’s focus was on other things and not on Roslyn’s struggle to get up the hill. She tried not to wince as she lifted her left leg into the car. “I suppose even the mayor has to eat.”
“But that’s the strange thing. She said she did but she talked to me about council and—” Margot pursed her lips. “Well, it was all a bit odd, that’s all. Held me up and dinner’s not prepared.”
Roslyn clutched the armrest as Margot’s tyres spun in the loose gravel and they rocketed out onto the road. Her sister clearly had things on her mind.
“I thought Dennis was cooking a barbecue.”
“He is but there’re still things to finish off and the salad to make. I’ve brought a selection of leftover mini cheesecakes and a slice from the shop for dessert.” She jabbed her thumb towards some containers on the seat behind her. “I was going to make a raspberry vacherin but covering for Kath didn’t leave me time to do the meringue.”
“Take me to your place. I’ll cut through the yard.”
Margot and Roslyn shared a fence line and easily accessed each other’s homes via the gate between them. What had once been one of their parents’ properties had been subdivided when their mother had died. Their father had wanted rid of the parcel of land at the top of the hill overlooking Jesserton. It had been more their mother’s passion. She’d had horses and ideas to plant more vines and fruit trees. He’d split the hilltop paddocks for his daughters and kept the house just down the road in town for himself.
Margot had been seventeen and Roslyn twenty-four. It had been perfect for her. She’d been able to move out of the family home into the old stone house that stood on her portion of the property. Several years later, when Margot had married Dennis they’d built a new house on their parcel of land.
