Amy's Rest

by S R Silcox

  Jack chuckled. “Reminds me of a certain little sister of mine.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “I’m not in my twenties anymore, Jack.”

  “Yeah, well, you still haven’t grown out of some of your immaturity.”

  “Have too,” Zoe said and when Jack raised an eyebrow, she poked out her tongue.

  Jack shook his head and laughed and then sucked in a breath. “I’m worried we’re going to lose him.”

  “What do you mean?” Zoe asked.

  “We’re not getting enough work in to keep us going. I’m thinking I might have to start calling in some favours with some other builders to find him work to finish his apprenticeship once this job’s over.”

  “I thought this job was going to bring more?” Zoe asked.

  “I’m hoping it does, but there’s no guarantee, so I have to think about a Plan B,” Jack admitted.

  “Shit, Jack. I didn’t realise we were that bad.”

  “We’re not, not yet, anyway. That’s why the Carramar job’s so important.”

  Before Zoe could say anything more, Molly and Nick returned from the kitchen and placed trays of vegetable bake and salad on the table. Josie and Ryan ran up from the yard and jostled each other before dropping onto the bench seat either side of Zoe. Zoe put the two burned sausages onto Josie’s plate.

  “Are they dead enough?” Ryan teased. Zoe dug him in the ribs and he just grinned but got the hint.

  “Are you excited about the new job?” Molly asked as she spooned vegetable bake onto Josie and Ryan’s plates.

  “Better than just hanging doors and the other odd jobs we’ve been doing,” Zoe replied.

  “It’ll be great for business,” Jack said, pulling a steak onto his plate and handing the tray to Nick. “Might lead to more jobs like it. The developer is pretty big in Brisbane.”

  “That’s great, hon,” Molly said, smiling at Jack.

  Zoe watched as Jack smiled back at his wife and then glanced at her. From the look he gave her, Zoe knew Jack hadn’t discussed the business problems with Molly.

  “Speaking of the developer,” Jack said. “I got a weird email from them this morning.”

  “On a Sunday?” Molly asked.

  Jack passed the barbecue sauce to Zoe. “They said you told Georgia she couldn’t be on site until she, and I quote ‘sorted out her safety equipment’. Is that true?”

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “It’s a safety thing, Jack. You know that. She hasn’t got any steel caps and if she’s going to be on site, she’s got to have them. I just told her she needed to get some, that’s all.”

  Jack shook his head. “This is a big deal, this job. You can’t talk to our clients like that.”

  “Like what? I just told her the safety requirements, that’s all.”

  “How is she meant to get boots here?” Molly asked.

  “She can go to the outfitters like the rest of us,” Zoe said. She swiped her steak through a pile of sauce and shoved it into her mouth.

  Molly clicked her tongue and shook her head. “They have to order your size in whenever you get new ones.”

  Zoe stabbed at her steak. “So?”

  “So?” Jack said. He pointed his fork at Zoe. “It’ll take her two weeks to get them in, you know that. She can’t be off site for that long.”

  “She could drive back to Brisbane and get a pair,” Nick said before piling food into his mouth. He looked around at everyone like he’d just been the most helpful of all of them.

  “She could,” Zoe agreed.

  “Nonsense,” Molly said. “I’m sure you’ve got a spare pair around somewhere.”

  Zoe scoffed. “I’m not giving her a pair of my boots.”

  “Why not? That would tide her over til she got her own pair at least,” Jack said.

  “I don’t even know what size she is,” Zoe said. She stabbed a piece of steak, slathered it in vegetable bake and shoved it in her mouth.

  “Even if they don’t fit,” Jack said. “If you offer her a pair of yours, at least we can say we tried to get her on site. And if they do fit, well, then that’s even better.”

  Zoe glared at Jack but didn’t have anything else she could say. She did have spare work boots at home, that wasn’t the point. Georgia Ballantyne was obviously inexperienced and Zoe doubted she’d last past the demolition stage before she got bored and went back to the city. Those renovation shows on television had a lot to answer for.

  “Fine,” she said, finally. “I’ll see if I can find a spare pair and offer them to her.”

  “Good,” Jack said.

  “Can’t guarantee she’ll take them though,” Zoe said. She took a swig of her beer. “And anyway, why are we talking about work when we should be talking about Nick’s foray into modelling?”

  “That’s right. Have you got a partner yet for the Mister Elizabeth Creek competition?” Molly asked.

  “Tara’s going to do it,” Nick replied, grinning like an idiot.

  “Tara Holdsworth?” Zoe asked, impressed he’d even gotten up the guts to ask her.

  Jack ruffled Nick’s hair and then Molly wanted to know the ins and outs of Nick’s outfit and the dance he had to do. It was amazing to see how far Nick had come the last five years from the gangly kid who couldn’t get out of his own way to being so close to finishing his apprenticeship. Zoe was proud of him, and like Jack said, it’d be a damn shame to lose him if they couldn’t get more steady work.

  NINE

  Georgia was up early the next morning, and after plotting her day out over a double-shot skim-milk latte and an omelette, she headed off in search of ideas from surrounding hinterland towns to help sell the cottage when it was finished.

  She asked about boots when she ordered her breakfast and was informed she’d need to go to the outfitters in town which, as she expected, didn’t open until Monday morning. That meant she wouldn’t get to be on the job site until after the builders had started. That wasn’t optimal but Ren and Rick had assured her the builders knew what they were doing.

  She spent the rest of the day driving around winding roads, popping into towns along the hinterland tourist trail, dropping into boutique wineries and walking along main streets with hundred year old buildings housing art galleries and specialty food shops. As Ren had predicted, there was a lot of potential to turn the cottage into a bed and breakfast, especially one that utilised locally sourced products.

  By the time she arrived back in Elizabeth Creek, it was almost dark and she nearly tripped over the old pair of boots sitting on the doorstep of her motel room. At first she thought she’d gone to the wrong door, but on double-checking the number, discovered that it was, in fact, her room. There was a note tucked into the shoelaces of one of the boots. She pulled it out, hoping it might shed some light on the shoes’ owner. ‘Meet out front, 7am’ was all it said.

  She looked around at the empty car park, expecting some burly old worker to wander over, shoeless, having left them at the wrong door and possibly going to miss his ride in the morning.

  Then she panicked and thought that perhaps someone had broken into her room and was waiting for her to return. Or perhaps her room had been double-booked. That was the more likely scenario.

  Georgia had heard of that happening to friends before, friends who’d been given an upgraded room in return for the inconvenience. She wasn’t sure there was such a thing as an upgraded room at a place like the Elizabeth Creek Country Motel, but there was only one thing for it. She’d have to go and talk to reception and get the problem sorted out.

  The bell on the door at reception tinkled as she entered and the manager behind the desk smiled when she looked up. “Hi. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Georgia Ballantyne, from room 18. I just wanted to ask, has my room been double-booked?”

  The manager shook her head. “Not that I know of. Why?”

  “There’s a pair of work boots sitting on the mat outside my door. They obviously belong to someone, and that someone is defini
tely not me.”

  The manager looked confused for a moment while she tapped away on the keyboard and scrutinised whatever it was she was looking at on her computer screen. Then a smile spread across her face. “Those were dropped off for you,” she said.

  “For me?”

  “Zoe Jennings dropped them ‘round earlier but you weren’t here, so she just left them outside your room. Apparently you needed a pair?”

  “Are you sure?”

  The manager nodded. “I’m sure. Carol, the day manager, left a note on your booking.”

  “Oh. Right.” Georgia wasn’t sure what to make of this turn of events. She turned to leave and then turned back. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can get a pair of socks before tomorrow morning, would you?”

  “The outfitters doesn’t open til nine tomorrow,” the manager replied. “But there’s a lost property box in the laundry you could try. People are always leaving stuff in their rooms and that’s where we put it before we donate it.”

  “Thanks,” Georgia nodded, heading to the laundry room. The thought of wearing someone else’s socks made her feel slightly ill, but the thought of wearing someone else’s boots without socks was much worse. If she did happen to find a pair of socks in the lost property, at least she’d be able to wash them before she wore them.

  TEN

  The first day of a new job was always exciting, at least for Nick, which was why he was sitting outside the work shed waiting just after 6.30am. For Zoe, first days, and first weeks, were always fraught with danger, especially for renovation jobs. You never knew what you had until you started pulling a house apart. The fact they hadn’t done a big job like this one for a while was also playing on her mind. She hoped Jack had the timings right and had to trust he’d ordered everything that needed to be ordered.

  “I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” Zoe grumbled as she unlocked the gate and went inside. Nick followed her in and closed the gate behind them.

  “Demo day,” he said. “Best day of the build.”

  “Only because you don’t get into trouble for smashing things,” Zoe replied. “Get my Cruiser loaded up while I make sure we’ve got the right plans.” As Nick hurried off into the shed, she called, “Load up the other one too. You can take that one today with the trailer. I have to pick up Georgia this morning so I’ll meet you up there.”

  Nick grinned. “Righto, Boss.”

  She resisted the urge to admonish him for calling her ‘boss’, something she hated, but she let him go. He was like a kid in a lolly shop in the early stages of a build. Hopefully she could keep his attention until the end of this one. He waned a bit as it got into the nitty gritty. He was impatient to get things finished and although he was getting better, he still tried to cut corners sometimes when she wasn’t paying attention, just to get jobs done.

  Zoe unlocked the office door and flicked through the plans on Jack’s desk until she found the ones for Carramar. These were the plans that would stay on site for the plumber and electrician to use when they came in to do their bit in a couple of weeks’ time.

  They’d already been sent through to all the sub-contractors, but there was always someone who forgot to bring theirs. She rolled them up and shoved them into a tube, tucked it under her arm and went back outside where Nick was finishing up.

  “Ready to go,” Nick said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

  “I shouldn’t be too far behind you. Just get all the tools out ready and we’ll get started as soon as I get there.”

  Nick saluted and jumped into his ute and drove off. Too late, Zoe realised he’d left the drinks esky behind. She shook her head and hoisted it up onto the back of her ute. “One day he’ll get it right,” she muttered. She jumped into her ute and headed for the motel to pick up Georgia, with a quick stop at the cafe on the way.

  She was surprised to see Georgia was waiting out the front of the motel when she arrived, and even more surprised to see she was wearing the boots she’d dropped off the day before. They looked out of place against the tight jeans and long-sleeved linen shirt Georgia was wearing, but she was dressed better than Zoe expected. At least the linen shirt would keep Georgia cool.

  Georgia opened the passenger’s side door and got in. “Thanks for the boots,” was the first thing she said.

  “You wouldn’t get any your size at the outfitters,” Zoe said. “It’d take at least a week to get them in.” She handed Georgia a coffee. “Double-shot skim milk latte,” Zoe said. “BJ said that’s what you ordered yesterday.”

  “Thanks,” Georgia replied, accepting the coffee and taking a sip. “Much better than the instant they have in the motel room.”

  Georgia was a lot perkier than Zoe thought she’d be this early in the morning. A lot of people said they liked to get up early, but not many were actually telling the truth.

  They drove in amicable silence, each happy to drink their coffee, listening to the staticky morning radio until they got to the house. The roadwork crew weren’t due for another hour or two, depending on when Rowan got his butt out of bed and into work, so the road in was still rough. By the time they pulled up at the back of the cottage, Nick had shown some initiative and had started setting the tools up in one of the old machinery sheds.

  As she pulled her ute up next to his, he pulled the last of the tool boxes from the tray and set it down beside the saw horses.

  He’d also set up the plan easel next to the car, ready for Zoe to tack the printed plans to. They could stay in the shed for the moment, at least until they got the demo done inside.

  Zoe directed Georgia to the back of the ute. “If you’re going to hang around here all day, you may as well help out.”

  Georgia smiled. “Sure. What do you need me to do?”

  “There’s a couple of eskies here with drinks and plates and stuff, and Nick’s got some chairs and tables in the back of his ute. You could find somewhere out of the way to set them up so we’ve got a place to have our breaks.”

  She pulled the heaviest of the eskies off the ute and placed it on the ground.

  “You want me to look after the food?” Georgia asked.

  “Yes,” Zoe replied. She grabbed her hard hat from the back of the ute and pulled it onto her head. “There’s an urn in one of the boxes. You should make sure that gets filled up from the tank here and plugged in straight away. The boys drink coffee like it’s water.”

  She picked up a sledgehammer and a crowbar and headed for the cottage, hoping Georgia would be kept busy enough with the food to stay out of their way.

  ELEVEN

  “Lunch lady,” Georgia muttered to herself as she set up the folding table in the old shed behind the cottage. “That’s how she wants me to help out.” She shook her head. “I bet she’s expecting me to make their damn coffees too.”

  She thrust a fold-up chair in front of her and set it down beside the table. She did that with three more chairs and then opened up the lid on one of the eskies. It was full of soft drink and water and in the corner was a bottle of milk.

  She opened a storage box to discover melamine plates and cups and a small hot water urn. She pulled it out and set it on one of the tables and held the power cord, wondering where on earth she was meant to plug it in.

  “Simmo will be here soon,” Nick said as he placed another box on the ground. “He’s the sparky. He’ll set you up with power. There’s a sandwich maker in there too, if you wanted to have a toastie for lunch. I’ll catch ya later.” He picked up a crowbar and walked over to the cottage.

  Georgia let out a huff and started unpacking the coffee tins and other containers. Once she was done, and since the electrician still hadn’t arrived, she looked around for something else to do. She wasn’t going to let Zoe relegate her to running after the rest of them with drinks and sandwiches all day.

  This was her cottage and she intended on working on it.

  She spotted a sledgehammer on the ground near the eskies. She picked it up, realising it was heavier
than it looked, and then considered her options.

  The banging and crashing inside the house had started and Georgia looked at the outdoor toilet. A smile spread across her face. She’d show Zoe a thing or two about what she could do with a hammer.

  She slung the sledgehammer over her shoulder, stomped over to the old toilet and sized up her target. She picked a spot on the wall and swung hard. The timber cracked but it barely made an impact. Georgia glanced over at the house, wondering if her demolition efforts would be heard inside. Probably not, she figured, judging by the sound of the banging and crashing going on in there.

  She lined up another spot on the wall and swung with all she could muster. There was another satisfying crack and this time, the old toilet wobbled. Georgia was surprised at how good she felt, swinging a sledgehammer at a timber wall. No wonder all those renovation show TV hosts got excited by ‘demo day’.

  Another hit in the same spot splintered the timber, making a hole and Georgia felt strangely euphoric. She took a moment to rethink her tactics. Trying to bring the old toilet down by hitting each timber board obviously wasn’t working. Maybe if she tried hitting the corners that might work.

  She adjusted her stance, drew back the sledgehammer and swung with everything she had.

  The kitchen was almost completely down when there was a crash outside and then a scream.

  Zoe and Nick both dropped their tools and raced down the back steps to find the old outdoor toilet in splinters all over the ground.

  Zoe cast her eyes around for Georgia, at first thinking she’d managed to bury herself in the rubble but saw her standing on the back of Nick’s ute.

  “What the hell is going on?” Zoe demanded, stomping across the yard to the ute. “What the--”

  “Snake,” Georgia said, pointing a shaky finger at the remnants of the outdoor toilet.

  “Aw, it’s a big old python,” Nick cooed.

  Zoe walked back over to have a look. In the middle of the remains lay a mass of writhing green and brown scales.