Head for the Hills, page 9
Another string of foul-mouthed expletives came from the young woman’s mouth as she lurched the car forward again. Roslyn glanced from the brick garden bed, which seemed none the worse for the collision, to the back of Amber’s car where there was a small dent in the bumper.
Amber got out and came around to inspect the damage.
“Shit, shit, shit.” She rubbed the bumper with her hand.
“It’s not much of a dent,” Roslyn said. “And no damage to the garden bed so you won’t have to fix that.”
“As if I’d—” Amber sunk down, squatting at the back of her car. “What’s the point,” she hissed and her head slumped forward and rested against the metal.
She looked so forlorn and she couldn’t be that old, barely out of her teens. Roslyn sighed. “Do you really have somewhere to stay tonight?”
There was a moment’s pause then Amber’s head shook and she pushed herself upright. “But I’ll be fine. There’s a place near the pub where I work that’s quite good. Out of the way and not far from public toilets.”
“Which pub?”
“Friedrich’s Gasthaus.”
“That’s just down the road from my place.” Roslyn paused. How could she turn the girl away now? “I’ve got an empty cottage. You could stay for a few days.”
“I told you I don’t need—”
“We both know you’re lying. Anyway, Gareth’s right. You need to take good care of yourself or it’ll be the baby that suffers.”
Amber’s hand went to her stomach and Roslyn knew she’d found a way to get through to the stubborn young woman. “You’d have your own space, a comfortable bed…”
Amber looked wistful at that.
“A few days till you can find another place.” Roslyn patted the car key in her pocket. “I’m on my way home now. Why don’t you follow me? Have a look. If you don’t like it, I certainly won’t stop you from finding another place.”
Amber wiped away a dribble of perspiration at her neck. “Is it cool?”
“There’s only a small aircon in the main bedroom but the walls are thick stone and the loft helps keep it cool and there’s a fan and…” Roslyn’s words dried up. She was babbling and she never babbled. Something about Amber put her on edge. And, really, did she care if the girl accepted her offer or not?
“I’ll come and check it out.”
Roslyn glared at her. A little humility would go a long way.
“Thanks.” Amber’s lips turned up in an almost-smile.
“Follow me.” Roslyn moved as fast as she could back to her car before she could rescind her offer.
“This is it.” After fumbling with the key Roslyn used some extra force to push open the old wooden door of the cottage. “The door catches at the bottom on the slate – you just need to give it a shove.”
Amber stood behind her, craning around her shoulder to see in.
“Have a look. It should have everything you need.” Roslyn stepped into the small entrance. She was met by warm stuffy air. “I haven’t been in here for a while.” She waved at the door on her right. “The bathroom’s in there and there’s a small washing machine. It’s all on rainwater so no long showers and don’t fill the bath.” She continued on to the lounge and opened a window.
Amber followed her inside. Her face lost its sullen look, replaced by surprise as her gaze swept over the plush couch, the loaded bookshelves and up to the overhead loft. Roslyn’s head filled with doubt. After all, she knew little about this young woman, other than that her blood pressure was low and that she was doing it tough, but not why.
Now that she was here Roslyn worried she might not be able to get rid of her. What if she took ill, lost her job, invited friends? Possession was nine-tenths of the law, as Roslyn was well aware. It was silly to have made such a spur-of-the-moment decision.
Amber peered into the kitchen and then moved through and into the main bedroom. Roslyn took pride in knowing it was all neat, comfortably furnished and well equipped. The cottage had been done up years ago, first as Richard’s den and then later for their son, Jerome, when he started uni. The main house had three bedrooms but only one bathroom and Jerome had appreciated his own space out here. And it made a great guesthouse when he and his family came back from Japan for visits.
Amber returned to the living room, peeped into the second bedroom then turned back. For a brief moment vulnerability crossed her face before her eyes narrowed and her jaw hardened.
“I can pay rent but not at the rate you’d want for this place.”
“You don’t have to pay me—”
“I suppose you want a free housekeeper then?” Amber snapped. “I told you I work at the pub but I could do some cleaning.”
Roslyn put up her hand. “As I said, you’re welcome here a few days while you look around for somewhere else to stay. There’s no need to pay me. The place is empty…at the moment,” she added, to give the impression it wouldn’t always be.
ten
Instead of stacking the outside chairs Margot sat on one. They’d had a steady stream of customers all day and one of the casual girls had gone home sick. She was glad it was Friday afternoon and not her weekend on.
“Gad, it’s been a busy day.” Kath put two coffees on the table. “Neither of us got our morning coffee so I thought we should have one now. Lani’s finishing up inside.”
“Thanks, Kath. The weekend weather is supposed to be mid-twenties like today. Should be a gorgeous final spring weekend. I hope you won’t be too busy. I’ve got errands to run tomorrow morning and then I’m looking after Isabella and Henry in the afternoon but I could help over lunch if you get stuck.”
“Thanks, but my youngest will be around all weekend. She can help if I need.”
Kath’s daughter had worked in the shop during her school years and still helped out the odd times they’d needed an extra between her uni studies.
“That’s good.”
“I’ve got some quotes for the blinds.” Kath put some papers on the table.
“Already.”
“The sooner they’re in the better.”
“You were just getting quotes, you said.”
“Yes, and I have.” She spread the papers out in front of her. “There’s not much difference in the actual blinds and the price between the two but one place says they can install them in a couple of weeks. The other was going to be after Christmas.”
Margot picked up the pages. “Goodness, that’ll knock a hole in the profits.”
“Like I said, I think it’ll encourage more people to stay if they’ve got protection from the weather. And they’re see-through, so it doesn’t block the view of the street.”
“But you won’t see our sandwich boards.”
“I’ve been thinking we need some different signage anyway. It’s a pain to lug those heavy boards out and in each day. Some nice flags that hook to the verandah posts would be easier.”
“Another cost.”
“Our planters will still hang from the verandah outside and with some creative signage it’ll give us an easy facelift.”
Margot was tired but Kath’s enthusiasm was catching. “I guess so,” she said.
“Great.” Kath snatched up the papers. “So we’ll go with the slightly cheaper and quicker option. I’ll ring them now. They might be able to fit us in even sooner. Summer begins next week.”
Margot sipped her coffee and stared along the street while her friend spoke to the installer. The General Providore had only been meant to be a small business, just the two of them and a casual. Now it was the two of them, Lani, who was permanent, and four casual staff. Both Margot and Kath were already stretched for time. Kath had her cleaning business and Margot kept her days off for her volunteer work and her family. It was different now that she had grandchildren. She wanted to be able to spend time with them, help care for them sometimes when their parents needed an extra pair of hands. The bigger and more complicated things got with the Prov the harder they were to manage. There were extra pressures when staff called in sick. Kath was creating an empire while Margot simply couldn’t devote any more time or energy to it.
Her gaze drifted to a group of people near the post office down the road from the plant shop. Thelma was one of them and a couple of women from Margot’s book club. As she watched, someone else came out of the post office. They were all gathered around the community noticeboard.
“They can do the blinds.” Kath sat and picked up her coffee cup, her smile wide.
“That’s good.” Margot tried to summon some enthusiasm.
“They’ll be here Monday to measure. I’ll come in and meet them.”
“Okay.”
“What’s going on down there?”
Margot followed Kath’s gaze back down the footpath. There were about eight people by the noticeboard now – a very unusual sight for Jesserton at four o’clock on a Friday afternoon.
“I’ll wander down and find out.”
“I’ll come with you.”
They’d nearly reached the group when Thelma saw them coming.
“There’s to be a meeting,” she blurted. Her eagerness to share lit up her face. “About the fancy new hotel.”
A rumble of comments rose from those around her.
“What’s going on?” Greg had followed them down the footpath.
The people closest to the noticeboard stepped aside to reveal a bright new poster behind the glass. It stood out, shiny and fresh, pinned between the ad for the upcoming New Year’s Eve celebration and an old missing cat flyer.
The headline jumped out at Margot – Community Meeting – then underneath in slightly smaller font Come and find out all about the new boutique hotel concept for Jesserton. Below that was one of those artist’s impression-style photos of a fancy-looking hotel. Margot counted the levels that staggered up the side of the hill, which she presumed was the one on Gunter’s property. There were five storeys.
“These Meyer and Brightman fellows are all about big projects in small communities that don’t want them, aren’t they?” Thelma said.
“Did you know about this, Margot?” Kevin from the butcher shop’s tone was accusatory.
They were all staring at her.
“I only live next door,” she blustered, hating to be the centre of their attention.
“I didn’t realise that jolly company had plans already,” someone called from behind. “I thought it was just an idea.” There were several murmurs of dissent.
Kath stepped in closer to Margot. “I guess it is just an idea but we have to nip it in the bud.”
Margot nodded. “That’s why I started the petition.”
“What petition?” Kev asked.
“I left one with your sales assistant on Tuesday.”
Kev scratched his head. “He must have put it somewhere safe.”
“It’s on the shelf by your rubs and seasonings,” Thelma said. “I signed it this morning.”
“We’ve got a few signatures on the one in our shop already,” Kath said.
“Me too,” Greg said.
“I’ve signed both of them and the one in the post office.” Thelma gave a determined nod of her head.
They all looked at her.
“Oh,” Margot said. “I don’t think you’re supposed to—”
“They can’t build something like that here,” Kev barked.
“That drawing looks as if they plan to.” Sandy from the hairdressers stabbed a finger towards the poster.
“Sure looks like they think they can,” a grumpy voice called from the back and then everyone started speaking at once.
“We’ve got…” Margot’s words came out in a croak. She cleared her throat and spoke up. “We’ve got to stop them.”
The cacophony of voices silenced and once more all eyes were on her.
“Margot’s right,” Thelma said. “We should boycott this meeting.”
“Good idea,” Kevin said.
“Well, actually.” Margot cleared her throat again. “I think we should all go.”
“Seriously?” It was the querulous voice from the back again. Margot realised it was Martin Threadgold.
“At the moment they’ve got an idea and an artist’s sketch of their plan. But the ink’s barely dry on the sale. They can’t have got too far with it all. We can hear what they have to say, ask questions and be better informed to put a stop to it.”
“Margot’s right,” Kath said. “This will affect everyone. The whole town should be there.”
Margot gave her friend a grateful smile as the voices around resounded in agreement.
“We should ask lots of questions,” Kevin suggested.
“How will we know what questions to ask?” Sandy frowned.
Kevin scratched his head. “We could make a list and hand it out so everyone takes a turn.”
“Perhaps someone from the council will be there.” Thelma pointed a finger in the air then tapped it to her chin. “Although I think there’s a bit of turmoil there with Councillor Higgins taking sick and the mayor playing up.”
“Ooh, yes, I heard about that,” Sandy said.
“Let’s stick to the facts about the meeting.” Martin’s sharp retort nipped the gossip in the bud. Margot was thankful – it was so easy for people to get sidetracked.
“You’ve been in touch with the council, haven’t you, Margot?” Kath asked. “To get the petition organised?”
“I only spoke to customer service about preparing a petition. They were very helpful. None of the councillors were available at the—”
“I told you they’re in troub—”
“I’ll ring a couple that I know if you like.” Greg’s quick reply cut Thelma off. “Make sure there’ll be someone there.”
“Thanks.” Margot nodded. “In the meantime I think Kevin’s right about preparing some questions. Fred said we can use the dining room at the pub for meetings. Why don’t we meet there on Monday night? Fred will want input, I’m sure.”
“I’ve got late appointments on Monday,” Sandy said.
“I can’t be there Monday night either.” Kath gave an apologetic wince.
“That’s okay. Let’s say seven o’clock for those of us who can make it.” Margot looked around and got several nods.
“Gunter would be turning in his grave if he knew about this,” Kev said.
“He and his dear departed wife, both,” Thelma nodded. Her sad look changed to one of resolve. “I’ll be at the meeting.”
“Great! Spread the word, everyone,” Margot said. “We don’t want any spare seats left in the Lutheran church hall next Wednesday night.”
They began to disperse but a loud “Well, I never” from Thelma stopped them. She was pointing towards the little supermarket across the road where a sign had just been stuck up inside the window, SOLD.
“Who’d have guessed that would happen?” Greg scratched his head and there were other murmurs of surprise.
“Teakles’ has been on the market for years,” Kath murmured. “I honestly thought they’d walk out or drop dead before it sold.”
Margot nodded. She only shopped there if she was desperate and often they didn’t have what she was looking for anyway. The Teakles were a lovely couple but they’d long ago lost interest in running a business.
“I’ll go and find out what’s going on.” Thelma nodded emphatically and strode off, her sturdy walking boots pounding across the road.
Martin followed her but everyone else dispersed and Kath and Margot strolled back to the Providore.
“You’ve certainly taken the lead with this hotel business,” Kath said as they cleared away their coffee cups.
“What do you mean?”
“You’d usually be one to agree a blue sky was pink if that’s what everyone else said.”
“Are you saying I’m fickle?”
“No.” Kath batted a hand at her. “But you usually avoid confrontation.”
Margot frowned. Roslyn had said something similar just the other day. “I see myself as a peacekeeper. That doesn’t mean I’m a pushover. Especially when it comes to something important like the wellbeing of our town.”
“Well, I think it’s good of you to show some leadership with this. You’re a strong voice for Jesserton and I’m right behind you.” Kath carried a stack of chairs inside.
Margot paused, bent over the other stack of chairs. Showing leadership? Was that what she was doing? It hadn’t been her plan to be a voice for the town when she and Dennis had first discussed putting a stop to the hotel. She got a stronger grip on the chairs and straightened, her earlier concerns replaced by a sense of resolve she’d rarely experienced before.
eleven
The fact that Amber had wasted her Saturday was confirmed as she drove past the last rental on her list. It was on the edge of Sheffield, a small town close to Jesserton. The house looked old and run-down with an overgrown weed-filled yard, and she almost kept driving but there were few cars parked outside and no line of people waiting like there’d been at the previous three places she’d visited. Maybe she had a slight chance. She found a park a bit further along the street, dragged her unruly hair back into a ponytail and rubbed at the sauce mark on her t-shirt. There’d been a sausage sizzle at Bunnings where she’d had to park for the last inspection. The smell of the onions had drawn her to it.
She burped and swallowed the acidic taste that singed her throat. She was paying for eating the onions now. A few gulps of water, a quick look to make sure her face was clean – too bad about her t-shirt – and she got out of her car and made her way back to the property.
It was a private rental, not via an agent, and the obvious lack of other prospective tenants allowed her a small sliver of hope. Amber reached the gate, which hung open, one hinge not attached to the rusted frame. She was halfway along the path when a couple of blokes hurried out the front door. They were so intent on their conversation they barely acknowledged her as she stepped to one side to let them pass.
She caught the words “kidding” and “disgusting” before she made her way up the three crumbling steps to the door. It could loosely be described as a screen door but it was more holes than screen. She pulled it open and stepped inside to be met by the smell of damp and decay. Amber wrinkled her nose and took two more steps. Her foot almost snagged in a hole in the threadbare carpet. She moved on carefully.
