Amy's Rest

by S R Silcox

  As she wound her way up the driveway, she noticed the dark clouds forming in the sky to the west. Zoe had warned her a couple of times of the storms, but she figured she had enough time to get the trims finished before she headed back to the motel. Judging by the progress on the cottage, there was probably nothing else she’d be able to do herself to help out, but getting the trims finished would be one job done.

  The way Zoe had been hot and cold over the last few days, Georgia wasn’t sure she wanted to be on site any more than she had to be. Maybe she’d wait around until the creek crossing was started and then she’d head back home to the city until the cottage was finished. With all the roadworks going on again, she wouldn’t get her car up, and besides, it would be good to get back to her apartment and stop living out of a suitcase.

  After an hour or so of painting, the rumble of thunder caught Georgia by surprise. It was much closer than she’d imagined. She’d heard a few rumbles earlier but dismissed them. She put her paint brush down into the pot and walked outside. Having a light on in the shed where she was painting had given her a false sense of how dark it had gotten outside.

  She walked out to the front yard and looked across to the west, where the storm was coming from. From her vantage point on top of the hill, she could see the rain streaming down across the valley. If she hurried, she could get the last couple of trims finished and then head back into town.

  Georgia was cleaning out her paint brush when the crack of lightning made her jump. She dropped the brush in a pot of water, figuring it would be fine until Monday morning, picked up her things and hurried to her car. As she climbed in to the driver’s seat, the first drops of rain started falling, and by the time she’d driven a few hundred metres down the driveway, the sky had opened up.

  Rain poured down as Georgia slowed the car to a crawl, navigating the dirt driveway as best she could as it became more and more slippery. She hoped the creek was still low enough for her to cross to get out onto the road. Once she was on bitumen, she’d be fine.

  As she came around a corner, her tyres slid on loose gravel and mud and in her attempt to pull the car back across to the centre, Georgia only succeeded in sliding it straight into the ditch. She cursed and threw the car into reverse. She put her foot down, but the car didn’t move.

  She tried again, and the tyres got some purchase but just when she thought she was free, they slid again, sending her back into the ditch. She was stuck.

  She pulled out her phone to make a phone call, but she had no signal. “Damn it!” She’d just have to sit in her car and wait out the storm until she could walk back to the cottage and find a signal.

  It took almost an hour for the storm to clear and not wanting to take any chances, Georgia gave it a good ten minutes to make sure it had stopped raining before she got out of the car. She grabbed her bag, locked up her car and started the long walk back up the hill, trying not to slip over on the muddy driveway.

  Just as she made it to the last bend, the skies opened up again.

  “Just bloody perfect,” Georgia mumbled, as she broke out into a jog.

  Relief flooded through her when she spotted the cottage through the gloom, but it was short-lived as her foot stuck in a puddle of thick mud, sending her tumbling to the ground. She lay there for a moment, almost too shocked to do anything.

  She pushed herself up off the ground and when she finally trudged into the shed, she was soaking wet, covered in mud, and freezing cold. She wiped her hands on a rag and pulled her phone from her bag, making sure it was still dry and checking for a signal. She had one bar. Maybe enough for a phone call if she stood still enough. Against her better judgement, she dialled Zoe’s number first but got voice mail. She left a voice message but the signal dropped out before she could finish it. She called Jennings Construction’s office number, but it rang out too.

  In desperation, she called Ren, but it dropped out when Ren picked up. She wanted to throw her phone across the room, but took a deep breath to calm herself. Her phone dinged. It was a message from Ren.

  Did you butt dial me?

  She could get messages at least, which meant she could send them. She tried to think of a way to tell Ren what had happened without worrying her. She settled on Ph signal bad Stuck at cottage Can Rick call Jack Jennings to get someone to come get me?

  Ren text back almost immediately. Why are you stuck at the cottage? What’s happened?

  Georgia replied I’m fine Just need a lift that’s all. She hoped Ren wouldn’t ask any more questions.

  Ren sent back Rick calling Jack now What’s going on?

  Georgia didn’t want to get into it right now, so she replied Will call you later

  Ren text back You better Jack sending someone to come get you.

  Georgia smiled in spite of herself and her situation and text Ren back. Thanks xx

  She unfolded a camp chair and looked around for something dry she could wrap herself in. The chill was starting to set in, and rain was falling steadily outside. She spied the painting drop sheet she’d been using earlier. She flicked it out and then pulled it around herself and sat on the camp chair. The only thing she could do now was to wait for whoever Jack had organised to come and get her.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Zoe had just pulled her swag from the back of her ute when Jack called. “What’s up?”

  “Have you left yet?” Jack asked.

  “Just about to. I decided to wait for that last storm to go through. Why?”

  “I just had a call from Rick Wheeler—”

  “Are you bloody kidding me?” Zoe set her jaw and shook her head. “What the hell have I done now?”

  “Nothing,” Jack said. “Something’s happened with Georgia Ballantyne.”

  A chill crept up Zoe’s neck. “What’s she done?”

  “She’s stuck up at the cottage apparently. Needs someone to go and get her,” Jack replied.

  Zoe let out a breath, whatever worry she’d been feeling turning to anger. “I bloody warned her about that creek. I bet she’s stuck in her car sitting on the other side of it.”

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “Rick just said they got a text from Georgia asking for them to send someone up to the cottage.”

  “Why the hell did she call them for?” Zoe asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jack replied. “But she did, and then he called me.”

  “Why are you telling me?”

  “Because you’re going to have to go and get her,” Jack said.

  “I am bloody not,” Zoe said. “You know tonight’s my night away.”

  “I know that, Zo. I called Nick first but he’s practising for his Mister Elizabeth Creek thing, so it has to be you.”

  Zoe closed her eyes and let out a breath. “Fine. I’ll go and get her but she’s not allowed back on site til the end of the build.”

  “Zo,” Jack started.

  “No, Jack. She’s causing me too much grief. There’s nothing else she can do up there anyway, except get in the way. I’ll bring her back to the motel and she can bloody well stay there.”

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Jack said. “Let me know when she’s safe so I can let Rick know.”

  “Sure,” Zoe said and hung up. She banged her head against the steering wheel. “Bloody Georgia Ballantyne.”

  She started her car and drove toward Carramar cottage, the opposite direction to which she should have been heading.

  By the time Zoe reached the creek crossing at Carramar, it was getting dark. She pulled her ute up at the edge of the creek, took a torch from her seat and got out. She shone the torch up and down the creek and checked its depth. It wasn’t running overly fast, but with more rain coming later on and with this part of the creek being at the bottom of the hill, the water was bound to get higher. It was crossable for the moment, but Zoe guessed it wouldn’t be for much longer.

  She turned off the torch, tossed it in the cab and climbed back in. She drove slowly across the creek and out the oth
er side, and was surprised that she didn’t see Georgia’s car anywhere.

  She drove up the rise and around the first corner and spotted Georgia’s car sitting sideways in the ditch. “Ah, shit.”

  Zoe pulled up, leaving the ute running and jumped out, checking Georgia’s car. She wasn’t inside it, and there wasn’t much damage, but the front wheels were stuck fast in the mud. That car wasn’t going anywhere until tomorrow. Zoe climbed back into her ute and drove on, hoping Georgia had made it back to the cottage.

  She drove up past the cottage, scanning for any sign of Georgia. All of the anger she had at missing her trip melted away when she pulled up in front of the shed and saw Georgia soaking wet and huddled on a chair, wrapped in a drop sheet. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought she’d felt a tinge of affection, but she pushed the thought down as she stepped down from the ute. Georgia jumped up when she saw the car, shielding her face from the car lights.

  Zoe turned the engine and lights off and got out. “What the bloody hell happened?”

  “You?” Georgia replied.

  “Yes, me. Who else did you think would be coming?”

  Georgia threw off the drop sheet, grabbed her bag and headed for the ute. She was caked in mud. Had she tried to pull herself out of the ditch?

  “Where are you going?” Zoe asked.

  “Back to the motel, I assume. And a nice hot shower.”

  Zoe shook her head. “We’re not going anywhere just yet. The creek’s up and it’s getting higher. We’re going to have to wait it out.”

  Georgia looked stricken and Zoe noticed she was shivering.

  “You’re cold,” Zoe said.

  “I’m fine,” Georgia replied hugging her arms around herself and trudging back to the shed. She picked up the drop sheet, pulled it around her shoulders and dropped back into the chair. Zoe pulled her bag out of the tray of the ute. She pulled out a blanket and gave it to Georgia. “Here. This’ll keep you warmer.”

  At first, Georgia didn’t take it. “I’ll get mud on it,” she mumbled.

  “Just take the bloody thing,” Zoe ordered. “You need to get warm.”

  Georgia did as she was told, passing the drop sheet to Zoe and swapping it for the blanket.

  Zoe pulled out her phone and called Jack. “Georgia’s fine,” she said when he answered. “Can you do me a favour and check the rain radar?”

  “Looks like there’s some more rain coming,” Jack replied.

  “Okay, thanks. The creek’s up here, so I think we’ll stay up here overnight.”

  “What about your night away?” Jack asked.

  “Well, technically I’m still away,” Zoe replied. She glanced over to where Georgia was huddled into the blanket, trying to get warm. “Just not where I was supposed to be.”

  “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” Jack said.

  “I guess so,” Zoe replied. She hung up and walked back over to the shed.

  “How can you make phone calls and I can’t?” Georgia asked.

  “I’ve got a range extender,” Zoe replied. She started pulling her camping gear and swag from the back of her ute.

  “What are you doing?” Georgia asked.

  “We’re stuck here tonight,” Zoe said. “And since I was going out tonight anyway, I might as well make use of my gear.”

  She unpacked her food onto the table and pulled out her bottle of scotch. She held it for moment, considering whether to just put it back away again. She only drank this scotch once a year. She let out a breath. If not now, she’d have to wait another year. She unscrewed the top, took a drink and closed her eyes as she swallowed. And then she turned and handed the bottle to Georgia.

  “Here. This will warm you up a bit while I get everything sorted.”

  Georgia took the bottle and took a drink, coughing it down.

  “Bloody hell, what is this stuff?” Georgia asked, pulling a face.

  “Dad’s favourite,” Zoe replied. “Puts fire in your belly, he used to say.”

  Georgia nodded and then took another drink. “He wasn’t wrong.”

  Zoe took the bottle back, had another drink and then capped it. Then she unpacked the urn from the lock box, filled it with water and plugged it in.

  “I could do with a coffee,” Georgia said, rubbing her hands on her arms.

  “It’s not for coffee,” Zoe replied.

  “What’s it for?”

  Zoe dug around in her rucksack and pulled out a small bag. “You need to get out of your wet clothes, so I’m making you a bath.”

  “Um, I don’t mean to sound dumb, but how exactly?” Georgia asked.

  Zoe nodded to the cast iron tub in the corner, covered in a tarp. “In that,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She took the keys from the ute, threw her swag over her shoulder and headed to the cottage.

  THIRTY

  It took four urn refills to get enough hot water in the tub for a hot bath, and although this was so far from what Georgia was wanting right now, it was her only choice. Zoe had plugged up the drainage hole with rags, and had dug a ditch of sorts for the water to run off as it seeped out.

  “I’m not sure how long it’ll hold out for,” Zoe said, hands on hips. “So you might want to be quick.”

  Georgia stood beside the tub, her arms crossed, glaring at Zoe. She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head. “Can I get some privacy at least?”

  Zoe looked away. “Oh, right. Sorry. I’ll just…” She pointed back over her shoulder. “Go set up camp inside the cottage.” She turned and grabbed her rucksack and walked out of the shed.

  Georgia waited until Zoe had disappeared into the cottage before she hurriedly stripped off and dipped a toe into the water. It was steaming hot but the cold air had cooled it at least a little, and Zoe had left an upturned bucket beside it with a cake of soap. How Zoe managed to have a cake of soap with her was something Georgia would ask later. But for now, she was concentrating on getting warm and clean.

  She eased herself down into the tub, the cold of the cast iron on her skin contrasting with the heat of the water. When she finally got settled, she closed her eyes and breathed in the warm steam. Under different circumstances, she’d be enjoying this immensely. She lay back and relaxed as she felt the warmth creeping back into her body. She knew she was supposed to be scrubbing the mud off, but she hadn’t had a bath in such a long time, she figured she may as well enjoy it, at least for the moment.

  It didn’t take long before Georgia realised that the water level had started dropping more rapidly, so she decided it was time she should actually get herself clean. She took the soap from the upturned bucket and began to lather herself, the water turning a murky brown as she scrubbed off the mud and dirt. There was a noise at the door, and Georgia scrunched down into the tub and turned her head.

  Zoe was standing in the doorway, her head down, one hand shielding her eyes, the other holding a towel and clothes. “Sorry. This was down the bottom of my bag. Thought you might need it.”

  “Thanks,” Georgia replied.

  “I’ll just, ah…” Zoe crept in tentatively, and took a camp chair and pushed it close to the tub with her foot. She hung the towel over the back of the chair and put the clothes on the seat. “I brought you some clean clothes too. They’re mine, obviously, so they might not fit but at least they’ll be dry.”

  Georgia was surprised to find herself amused at Zoe’s obvious attempts to not accidentally see her naked. Especially after she’d been checking out her butt only a week ago. “Thanks.”

  Zoe nodded and turned and walked away. She stopped in the doorway. “When you’re ready, come up to the house. We’ll have something to eat.”

  “Okay,” Georgia replied and watched as Zoe hurried away back to the cottage. She finished washing herself and unblocked the drain, the water creating a river of mud as it leaked across the floor of the shed and ran off under the wall. She towelled herself dry in the tub so she didn’t get dirt on her feet, and
then put on the jeans, t-shirt and jumper Zoe had left her. They were a little big for Georgia, especially the jeans, which were looser fitting than she’d wear herself, but they were dry and comforting. She shoved her feet into her boots and picked her way carefully across the yard to the cottage. Lightning lit up the sky in the distance, a sign more rain was coming, and having taken off her muddy boots and left them just inside the door, Georgia hurried inside the cottage.

  Muted light illuminated the back of the house and the smell of something rich and meaty drifted from inside. Georgia’s mouth watered and her stomach grumbled. How long had it been since she’d eaten? She couldn’t remember.

  She walked through the new extension to find the source of the light and smell and found Zoe hunched over a gas burner in one of the bedrooms in the old part of the cottage. Zoe’s swag was rolled out on the floor against one wall, and a sleeping bag was laid out on the floor across from it.

  “That smells amazing,” Georgia said, standing in the doorway, unsure where she should sit.

  Zoe looked up and, Georgia noticed, looked her up and down before looking back at the pot she was stirring. “My sister-in-law’s stew,” Zoe said. “How was the bath?”

  “Good,” Georgia replied. “I feel much better. Thanks.”

  Zoe nodded. “You can have the swag. It’ll be more comfortable than the sleeping bag.”

  Georgia stepped across the room and sat on the swag, crossing her legs underneath her. She wasn’t sure why Zoe was being so nice to her, but she wasn’t about to question it with the prospect of a warm bowl of stew on offer. “Thanks for the clothes.”

  “You needed some dry ones,” Zoe replied not looking up. “They look like they fit okay.”

  “They do, surprisingly well,” Georgia said.

  Zoe turned off the gas cooker and spooned stew onto a plate and handed it to Georgia. She ate her own meal straight from the pot. Georgia didn’t know whether it was because she was hungry or not, but the stew was amazingly good.