Amy's Rest

by S R Silcox

  Georgia followed Zoe to the front of the cottage, pulled out the keys and tried several in the front door before she found the right one. She unlocked the door and pushed. It stayed shut tight.

  Zoe stepped in beside Georgia. “Let me have a go.” She leaned into the door with her shoulder, pushing until it opened. “It’s probably warped and sticky from being closed for so long.” She stepped back to let Georgia through first. “Mind the floorboards. They might be a bit rickety.”

  Georgia stepped tentatively into the gloom. Thanks to the bougainvillea and the rest of the overgrown front garden, the front room was a far cry from the sun room it was meant to be.

  There were two windows on each end and a row of filthy louvre windows on the front wall that let in hardly any light.

  She stepped through another open doorway and coughed out a breath. “What on earth is that smell?” She covered her mouth and nose with her hands.

  “Probably a dead possum,” Zoe replied. “Wouldn’t be surprised. They sneak in through a hole in the roof and then sometimes the silly buggers can’t get back out again. Die right there in the roof. Or,” Zoe continued, scratching her cheek. “Could be a carpet snake. They love it up there in the ceiling.”

  Georgia shuddered at the thought of a snake in the ceiling, even if it was dead. She pulled a face and tried not to breathe too deeply. This was going to be a much bigger project than she first thought.

  SIX

  Zoe hadn’t been to Carramar since the old hermit who’d lived there had died a few years back. She’d gone to the estate auction with Jack to see if there was anything of interest for the workshop, but they’d come home empty-handed.

  Everything that was worth something had sold back then except the property itself, and whatever was left was scavenged. Zoe was surprised the old cottage had lasted so long.

  It was in such a state of disrepair, she was sure someone would buy the block for the land alone, knock down the cottage and build a new house. The outlook was amazing, especially after good rain when the paddocks greened up. She was glad that whatever plans the developer had for Carramar, it included restoring the old cottage, rather than knocking it down. There was always so much history hidden under the paint and behind walls in old houses. It’d be a shame to lose it.

  She followed Georgia as she picked her way slowly through the cottage, taking the occasional photo on her phone. Though most of the furniture and fittings had been taken away years ago, there was still the odd upturned chair or bric-a-brac strewn around the place.

  It wasn’t a huge cottage, just two bedrooms and a couple of sun rooms, but it was typical of the era it was built. The front veranda had been closed off at some point to create an extra room and the back of the cottage had been bricked in to enclose the kitchen and bathroom, but the rest of the house looked to be original.

  They walked through into what would have been the lounge room with a bedroom off to each side. Georgia peered through the doorways of each and then wandered through to the back room, which had been turned into a kitchen and dining area. To the left was the bathroom.

  “We can save that tub if you want,” Zoe said, pointing to the old cast iron bathtub in the corner.

  “Won’t a new one be better?” Georgia asked, screwing up her nose.

  “That cast iron one is worth its weight in gold. A bit of resurfacing and it’ll be good as new,” Zoe said. The thought of that old tub going into a skip bin horrified her.

  “There’s no toilet,” Georgia said.

  “It’s out the back,” Zoe replied. She unlocked the back door, which was easier to open than the front, and pointed to a dilapidated, weathered building that stood on a slight lean about twenty metres away. “That’s it there.”

  Georgia stood beside Zoe and peered out the back door. “What? That shed?”

  Zoe nodded.

  “But why outside?”

  “You’ve never seen an outdoor dunny before?” Zoe asked.

  Georgia shook her head, a horrified look on her face.

  “That’s how things used to be,” Zoe explained.

  “But how…?”

  “I don’t know about this one, but they were usually a can or something like that. You did your business and scattered sawdust over the top.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then what, what?” Zoe asked.

  Georgia screwed up her nose. “Wouldn’t it get full? The can?”

  “Yeah, but out here, they’d have dug a pit somewhere and--”

  Georgia put her hand up and shook her head. “On second thoughts, I don’t want to know.”

  “It’s unlikely it’ll be close to the house, if that helps,” Zoe said, trying hard not to laugh at Georgia’s obvious disgust.

  Georgia pulled a face and turned around, apparently unable to even look at the old toilet. “That’s revolting.”

  “Everyone had them.”

  “Well that will definitely be going,” Georgia said.

  “Sure you don’t want to keep it?” Zoe asked, only half joking. “I mean, something like that definitely adds to the character of a place like this. You don’t want to get rid of too much of that sort of stuff if you can help it.”

  She was sure Nick would come up with something fun to do with the old outdoor loo.

  “Definitely not,” Georgia replied, and walked down the back steps.

  Zoe smirked as Georgia took a wide arc around the outdoor toilet and headed for the sheds at the back. “City chicks,” she muttered to herself as she followed Georgia out the back.

  When they’d finished inspecting the sheds, they walked back around to the ute where Zoe pulled out the plans and placed them out on the tail gate.

  She orientated them so they matched the orientation of the cottage.

  “So we’re opening the front verandah back up,” Zoe said. “And apart from the refurb in the original cottage, we’re adding an extension on the back to increase the living space and add a master bedroom and ensuite.”

  “So what’s first?” Georgia asked.

  “Stripping out the walls and ceilings and seeing what’s in the roof,” Zoe replied.

  “So, you’re gutting it,” Georgia said.

  “Well, that depends what we find. I’m hoping we get to save most of it. The VJ’s look like they’re in pretty good nick, but we won’t really know until we strip it back.”

  “VJ’s?” Georgia asked.

  “Vertical joints,” Zoe answered, wondering why Georgia, supposedly the project manager, didn’t know that.

  “Right,” Georgia replied. “So Monday will be demolition?”

  “And road works,” Zoe replied. “Nick and I will come up early to beat the grader and get started on the demo, and we’ll have a couple of labourers in giving us a hand early on. Should take us a day or two to strip the place back and see what we’ve got.”

  “Should I meet you somewhere Monday morning then?” Georgia asked.

  “Why?”

  “To come up for the demolition.”

  “You don’t have to be here for that,” Zoe said. She knew Jack had negotiated with the developer for Georgia to do some labouring work, which Zoe wasn’t exactly happy about, but it was Jack’s call. There’d be plenty for her to do later on in the build, but she’d just be in the way while they were demoing.

  “It’s fine. I’m happy to help,” Georgia replied.

  “Nick and I will be fine,” Zoe said. “You can stay in town, sleep in. You can come up once the demo’s done and the road’s fixed. Besides, it’s a construction site so there’s safety issues to consider. Have you got all your PPE?”

  “PPE?” Georgia asked, crinkling her nose up.

  For a project manager, Georgia Ballantyne seemed to be absolutely clueless. Zoe wondered whether this was her first job. She’d make a point of talking to Jack about that when she saw him next. If this Wheeler Developments company was fair dinkum, they shouldn’t have sent their least experienced employee.


  “Personal Protective Equipment,” Zoe explained. “Hard hat, steel caps, work clothes.” She ticked them off on her fingers.

  “I can get a hard hat,” Georgia replied. “And my clothes are perfectly fine.”

  Zoe looked Georgia up and down, her eyebrows raised. She very much doubted that Georgia’s idea of work clothes were the same as hers. “You can’t come on site dressed like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re stepping onto a photo shoot. You’ll get plenty of photos for your social media, don’t worry about that.”

  Georgia crossed her arms and drew herself up. “I don’t need social media photos.”

  “Look,” Zoe said. “If you’re coming on site, you’ll need steel caps at the very least. And if you’re going to be working here, then you should get yourself some work pants or jeans and shirts.”

  “I have jeans,” Georgia said. “And they’re more than suitable.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll be the judge of that,” Zoe said. She looked down at the plans. “So I’ve got some windows at the workshop—”

  “What gives you the right to decide what I can and can’t wear?” Georgia asked, glaring at Zoe.

  Zoe turned to face Georgia and crossed her arms, mirroring her pose. “I’m the site foreman and what I say goes.”

  “Well,” Georgia said, sticking out her chin. “I’m the one paying you, so what I say goes.”

  Zoe resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Obviously, Georgia was going to be one of those clients. “My site,” she said, pointing at her chest. “My rules.” She gathered up the plans and put them back into the folder and closed the tailgate. “I think we’re done.” She opened the car door, got in and turned the key.

  She could see Georgia glaring at her in the rear view mirror. She finally stomped around to the passenger side, flung open the door and climbed into the seat, slamming the door. She reefed her seatbelt down, taking a couple of goes before it let go, and clicked it in. Then she sat staring straight ahead and crossed her arms.

  As Zoe drove back down the driveway and into town, she thought about all the ways she could make this job go faster so that she didn’t have to put up with another painful client like Georgia Ballantyne. Four weeks with her was going to feel like a life time.

  SEVEN

  “Did Rick even meet them?” Georgia asked Ren later that night. She’d pulled out all the clothes she’d brought with her and had them lying out on the bed. Surely her jeans and button-up shirts would be suitable for the work site?

  “Celia contracted them,” Ren replied. “They’re the best in that area, she said. Why?”

  “The builder’s a bit, I don’t know. Arrogant?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first one. Most men are, builders or not. Even Rick can come across as arrogant sometimes.”

  “He’s a she,” Georgia said.

  “Really?”

  “Zoe,” Georgia confirmed. “Sister of the owner of the business.”

  “Huh, well there you go,” Ren replied. “What did she say to get up your nose?”

  “She told me she wouldn’t let me on the work site unless I get the proper clothing,” Georgia replied.

  “You don’t have steel-caps. I’m not surprised,” Ren said with a laugh.

  “I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on things,” Georgia replied. “Aren’t I supposed to be on site?”

  “Of course you are, but you need to get yourself some boots. It’s an insurance thing,” Ren explained.

  “What? In case I kick my toe or something?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re supposed to be on my side,” Georgia said.

  Ren sighed. “Just go and get some boots, George. And anyway, you don’t have to be there every minute of every day. They’re builders. They know what they’re doing.”

  “If it’s that easy, why did I even have to come up here in the first place?”

  Ren chuckled on the other end of the phone. “You wanted to get closure, remember?”

  Georgia snorted out a breath. “Yeah, well, maybe I should have listened to you and let Rick pay for a project manager.”

  Ren’s voice softened. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Look, I can see if I can get some time off and come up.”

  “Could you?”

  “Of course. Rick’s folks should be fine to take the kids. Besides, I could use a break myself.”

  Georgia dropped down onto the end of the bed. “Is everything okay?”

  “Just the usual,” Ren replied. “Kids are driving me nuts, Rick’s leaving his clothes all over the place, you know how it is.”

  “Sounds like you need a break,” Georgia said.

  “It’s all right for you, not having anyone else to worry about and taking off to the country at a moment’s notice,” Ren replied.

  The light tone in Ren’s voice told Georgia it was meant to be a joke, but it still hurt.

  “Sorry,” Ren said quickly. “You know what I meant.”

  Georgia plastered on a fake smile, hoping Ren could hear it in her voice. “It’s okay, I get what you meant.”

  “Anyway,” Ren said. “You haven’t told me much about the house. How is it?”

  “It’s in pretty bad shape,” Georgia admitted. “You got the photos I sent through?”

  “It’s not that bad,” Ren said, her voice soothing. “If you put in some hard work on it, show it some love, someone’s bound to fall in love with it.”

  Georgia couldn’t help but feel like Ren was talking about her, as much as the cottage. She pushed her clothes into a pile and lay back on the bed. “I’m glad one of us is optimistic. The builder—”

  “Zoe,” Ren corrected.

  “Zoe,” Georgia said, rolling her eyes even though Ren couldn’t see her. “Said there could be wood rot and water damage. Have we factored that into the budget?”

  “You’ll have to talk to Rick but I’m sure he would have,” Ren replied. “He’s all over it, don’t worry about that.”

  “Just out of curiosity, why didn’t Rick and Celia suggest I just knock it down and build a new place?”

  “Character,” Ren replied. “You can’t replicate it. And like Rick says about his apartments, sex sells.”

  Georgia laughed. “What on earth has sex got to do with it?”

  “Everyone loves a little romance, right? What did you think of when you first saw the mock-ups of the cottage renovations?”

  “That Amy would’ve loved it,” Georgia replied. She closed her eyes and pictured the view across the paddocks from the front of the cottage, and tried to imagine what it would have looked like had Amy been standing there with her. Her heart ached at the thought of it.

  “Exactly. You can’t get that in a new house. The romance of the old cottage is what’s going to sell it when you’re finished with it.”

  “You’re probably right,” Georgia admitted. She glanced at her watch. It was after eleven. “I should go. It’s been a big day.”

  “Have you got any plans for tomorrow?” Ren asked.

  “Apart from finding a pair of work boots?” Georgia asked, hoping Ren could hear the sarcasm in her voice.

  “Are shops open on Sunday there?” Ren asked.

  “Probably not,” Georgia replied. “I can’t imagine there’s too much else to do around here on a Sunday, so I might take a drive, get a feel for what’s around. Maybe find some selling points we can use when I put it on the market.”

  “Great idea,” Ren said. “We’ll talk on Monday?”

  “Will do,” Georgia replied. She hung up and dropped her phone beside her on the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

  “Four weeks,” she muttered to herself. “All going well, everything will be finished in four weeks and I can get it on the market and get on with my life.”

  She pushed herself up off the bed, gathered up her clothes and dumped them back into her suitcase and headed for the bathroom. She just had to keep things together until Ren arrived.

&
nbsp; EIGHT

  Zoe flipped the steak on the barbecue and took a swig of her beer while Nick and Jack looked on. She never understood why men seemed to gravitate to the barbecue. Maybe it had something to do with raw meat and fire that went back millennia.

  Or maybe they just wanted to avoid the kitchen at all costs. Whatever it was, she was the designated barbecuer in the family, since Jack couldn’t seem to cook a steak to save himself. Not like their father could at least.

  “What’s happening with the dunny?” Nick asked.

  “It’s going,” Zoe replied. She flipped the sausages, one by one, and put all but two of them onto a tray. She left the last two to burn just like her niece, Josie, liked it. She flat-out refused to eat a sausage unless it had been burned to a crisp thanks to her older brother’s teasing about eating animals and making sure they were dead first.

  “I could do something really cool with it,” Nick said. “I mean, we could even make it into a proper outdoor toilet.”

  “I know,” Jack said. “But the client wants it gone and that’s what matters.”

  Zoe checked the steak and the remaining sausages. Satisfied that the steak was cooked just on the medium side and the sausages would pass the char test, she turned the gas off on the barbecue and carried the meat to the table.

  “Meat’s ready, Mol,” Jack called.

  Molly looked up through the kitchen window and smiled. “Come and give me a hand with the salads, will you Nick?”

  Nick put his beer on the table and headed inside.

  “We need a side project for him,” Jack said, jabbing his thumb at the empty doorway Nick had disappeared into. “He’s been driving me crazy at the shed.”

  “I know,” Zoe replied. “I’ll see what I can dig up. Apart from this Carramar job, everything else is small stuff.”

  “What about helping you out more with the kids?”

  “He gets too impatient with them,” Zoe replied. “He’s good with them, just that he wants to do things for them instead of letting them do stuff themselves.”