by Jennie Jones
‘By a group of louts.’
‘Ah.’ Josh cottoned on, his humour draining.
‘We have a lot of young women in and around town these days,’ Ted continued, ‘and although I grant you, the majority of those wind project fellers aren’t bad sorts, there are a few who need to be watched.’ Ted lowered his eyebrows. ‘They’ve booked their places and I’m doubting they’ll be joining us for the fun and the magical quality of the evening we intended.’
‘So you need an undercover thug.’
Ted blew his breath out, his cheeks inflating. ‘I would hardly call you a thug, Josh, but you do have the height and the strength to make people think you mean business.’
Josh held up both hands. ‘Look, Ted, I appreciate where you’re coming from and I’ll stick around, but there’ll be any number of guys in the pub while this speed-dating thing is happening. Dan, Ethan, Lily’s husband—he’s ex-navy.’
Ted spoke softly. ‘They’re married men. No good to us. We need someone at the table, doing the rounds.’ He drew a circle in the air with his index finger. ‘Someone who’s close enough to overhear any untoward suggestions that might be made. We have to protect our women.’
‘And I’m the guy?’
Ted nodded. ‘You’re available.’
‘You mean I’m single.’
‘You’re big enough and most importantly, you’re sort of one of us.’
Sort of? ‘Right.’ He couldn’t deny any attribute Ted had offered, not his height, nor his strength nor his not being wholly part of them. ‘Who are the louts?’ he asked, already imagining himself up against a wall of five toughened wind-project guys and hearing his ribs crack and his jaw pop as they beat the crap out of him.
‘You know one of ’em,’ Ted said. ‘The one you pulled off young Gemma.’
Josh inhaled. ‘Gem’s not doing the speed-dating.’ Why the hell would she get involved with that?
‘Of course she is! She’s a single woman stuck in a remote township. She’s looking for a hot date.’
Suddenly he could see Gem and her hot date, doing gymnastics in the back of some car, their antics steaming up the windows.
‘You’re doing a lot of dithering,’ Ted said accusingly. ‘If you’re not up to helping people you used to respect, just say so.’
‘Hang on, Ted.’ He hadn’t said he wouldn’t do it, he just hadn’t been given enough time to contemplate how he’d do it or what it would say to the townspeople if they saw him as one of the ‘competitors’. ‘Everyone will know that I’m undercover. Right?’
Ted shook his head, his chins wobbling with his frustration. ‘For goodness’ sake, man. Will you take the job or not?’
‘Yes.’ If Gem was doing the speed-dating thing and that bozo Dave was involved, of course Josh was going to watch out for her.
‘At last. Thought I’d approached the wrong guy for a second.’ Ted pulled a blue ticket book out of his back trouser pocket and took a pencil from behind his ear. ‘Alright then. You’re speed-dater number thirteen.’
Josh took the ticket as Ted wrote Josh’s name on the stub in the book. ‘That’s an odd number, Ted.’
‘Don’t worry about that, I’ve got a woman in mind to even up the numbers.’
‘So what’s my brief?’
‘Your what?’
‘My brief.’ No response. ‘You know—how does it work? Who do I report to? How many rough comments do I have to listen to before I start using my fists?’
Ted stepped back. ‘Steady on. We’re not wanting you to start a fight.’
‘So what is it you’re wanting?’
‘Command of a possibly delicate and dangerous situation. The safe-guarding of our women. But overall, Josh, this is supposed to be an evening of love.’
‘Right.’ Brief received. ‘I’ll try to remember that last bit.’ Josh pocketed the ticket. Lucky number thirteen.
Gem stared at her mobile on the counter. It had been quiet all day. Nobody else had come into the shop since the purple-coated woman had left. She took a breath deep enough to blow the Three Little Pigs’ houses down, picked her phone up and tapped in the all-time shit’s mobile number.
He answered after six rings and Gem nearly fell off her stool in surprise.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ her father asked, his voice condescending, the hint of a smile in it. It wouldn’t be a loving smile, Gem knew that for certain.
‘Dad,’ she said, shuffling her bottom more firmly onto the stool, ‘do you have a minute? I’d like to discuss something with you.’
‘I’ve had the previous four months free,’ he said. ‘I think that’s how long it’s been since you last called me.’
‘I’ve been trying to call you for—’ Gem gave up on that. It had been almost eighteen months since her father had picked up his phone and called Gem but she didn’t want to head down that road with him now. ‘It’s about the shop.’
‘And?’
‘Josh is back.’
She didn’t get a response.
‘Josh Rutherford. He’s selling the shop, remember?’ Of course he knew, he’s the one who’d told her, via a text message, that the shop was up for sale.
‘What’s he doing there?’
Her father was derogatory about everyone so Gem ignored his tone. ‘As you might have seen from my monthly spreadsheets, I’ve saved one-third of the cost, and the bank will give me a loan of two hundred but I need another fifty thousand to buy the shop now that I know the asking price. I need you to free up fifty grand from my inheritance. Please,’ she said, then held her breath.
No answer. Gem steeled herself and her resolve. She snatched a breath and spoke again. ‘I can handle the debt as planned, but not the additional fifty.’
The silence from her father was so keen Gem heard the background noise around him. Tinkling laughter suggested balmy afternoons and gaiety. It was either a fancy restaurant in the middle of a Queensland town or a restaurant in some casino.
‘Maybe, if you’re not allowed to give me the fifty,’ she said, ‘due to inheritance regulations or something, you might stand guarantor for the additional loan?’
‘No.’
Gem’s blood froze in her veins. She’d been expecting more questions of the dangle-her-on-a-tightrope kind; had thought there’d be more phone calls, more taunting from him and more courageous and stalwart composure from herself before she got her answer.
‘That’s it?’ she asked.
Her father laughed. The sound hit her hard, as though his breath had fanned her face and sent her reeling backwards. ‘What did you expect?’
‘More,’ she managed to say as hate for him filled her. No—not hate. She didn’t believe in hate, it was a wasted emotion that only fired further negativity in the person who held onto it. Bitterness though, she could taste that, and had a feeling she’d be chewing on it for the rest of her life.
‘You fill my heart with rage,’ she told him, her voice cracking, knowing that the conversation was at an end and that he would not help her. ‘You were supposed to be the man I looked up to.’ And the man who sacrificed whatever he had to for the sake of his children. ‘Even with Tod, you never gave him the support he so desperately wanted from you.’ Her older brother had been smart and strong as a young man. A sportsman through and through, but he hadn’t received the male guidance he’d needed from their father, and something inside him had withered because of it, attempting one business venture after another, each failing.
‘He turned out useless.’
‘That’s because of you!’ Tod wouldn’t say it, he’d take all the pain and agony on his own shoulders. He’d never blame his issues and his depression on his childhood. But Gem could say it. ‘You wonder why Ryan doesn’t talk to you anymore? Why he ran away from all of us at such a young age? Because of your ego. You could never bring yourself around to the fact that your sons would grow taller than you, stronger than you—or that they might actually be better than you.’
�
��Always the fighter,’ her father said, his voice dripping in condemnation. ‘Most unladylike, Gemma. Take a look in the mirror. I doubt you’ll like what you see. You’re like your mother.’
‘You bastard.’
Her father laughed. ‘That’s the way to get money out of me.’
‘It’s my money. I’ll get it in three years anyway. And I’ll get the shop too—you watch me. I wanted your protection and some security. I thought it was my right to ask for it—being your child and all. I finally realise what a waste of my time you are. You sorry, sorry bastard.’ She slammed her mobile down and stared at it. She seemed to be inhaling and not exhaling. Too much air. She might burst.
How little he knew her. How little he cared. She didn’t need to peer at her reflection in some mirror. She wore her heart on her sleeve and everyone knew it. She wouldn’t be moving it any time soon. So what if her emotions sometimes rose to extraordinary heights? To her mind, there was just cause.
She was going to laugh hard, play hard and love hard. And nobody—nobody—would kill those feelings inside her. Luck came to those who fought for the things they considered precious in life. The things that would make them happy. That’s why her baby brother, Ryan, had run away at the age of fifteen a year ago, after taking too much of his father’s weekend on and weekend off disparagement, and God, she hoped he was finding some glory, wherever he’d gone. Gem had fought for her own luck too but she was still devoid of paternal love, devoid of Josh’s love and pretty soon she’d lose the shop.
She turned from the counter and half staggered into the pergola area out the back. She folded her arms against the brick wall and let her head follow. She cried so hard her stomach twisted and her shoulders heaved, but she kept her mouth pressed against her forearm to hush the sound of her agony in case somebody on the street heard her.
‘Afternoon, sir.’
‘You can forget the “sir”. It’s Josh,’ Josh said as the young guy who worked on the reception at the hotel approached. ‘How’s it going, Raphael? Where are you off to?’
‘The toy shop. Doing a few hours for Gem.’
‘Oh?’ Well, she had to have a lunch break, although it’d be a late one. ‘I didn’t realise she employed you.’
‘Oh, it’s not like that,’ Raphael said. ‘Not a regular thing.’
‘I see.’ He didn’t, but how would he know what Gem had put into place.
‘Best be going.’
Josh nodded at the lad as Raphael crossed in front of him and headed for the toy shop. Worrying about how Gem handled the shop wasn’t his business. She leased it from him and managed it her own way. All he needed to know was that the rent was being paid on time, and that the building was in good repair. But he was now concerned about not knowing how she coped. He knew, from experience, that work didn’t start at opening time and end at close of day. When he’d run the art and craft centre for the Grangers, he’d been working at least two hours before opening and sometimes a further couple of hours after closing. His job at sea had been 24/7, no let up. But he’d been paid handsomely for his time, especially over the last years when he’d been skipper, but was Gem making a reasonable income from her business? Surely she would be, given the trade now passing through town.
A car pulled out of the petrol station on the other side of the road and Josh looked down Main Street. Gemma waved to whoever was in the car then made her way down the alley between the stock feeders’ and the pioneer cemetery. She was carrying gear of some sort.
He inhaled, drawing chilled air as far into his lungs as he could. Time to get acclimatised with Gem. If she was on her lunch break, perhaps she’d talk to him. Might be easier to get her onside and get their business finalised if neither of them were inside the shop. He’d given her a couple of days—surely that was enough for her to have got used to the idea that he was back in town and that he wasn’t going to pressure her? If she was having trouble finding the money to purchase the shop. He didn’t know why he suddenly thought she would be, other than some gut instinct, but he wanted to find out. To make sure she was okay.
He took a second to think about her and all her attributes. The generous ones, the touchy ones and—surprise, surprise—the physical ones. Since Sunday, he’d encouraged a few thoughts about getting a thing on with Gem for the time he was in town. Mostly, he reasoned, so that he could get over this new obsession with her.
What he’d felt for Gem all those years ago was only one reason for his leaving town—but it was a rare moment when he allowed himself to remember her father’s words to him. He preferred to think of his departure as fulfilling a thirst for adventure.
He walked to the walkway railing and leaned on it, hands clenched around the top bar. If Gem’s father hadn’t interfered—
He straightened. No point thinking about that either.
Five
Gem picked up her paint tubes and brushes from the wooden floor of the scaffolding and popped them into a padded canvas bag. She zipped it and dropped it onto the ground beneath. She put a gloved hand onto the metal railing and took a deep breath of the crisp air. The sky was a perfect blue. It wouldn’t snow until evening, if at all. Raphael wasn’t on shift at the hotel so she’d asked him to stand-in for her at the shop. She’d needed space. She’d needed beauty. She’d needed to clear her spirit and mind in order to make her next decisions.
She’d needed her art.
Ted had agreed to let her paint a mural on his building. The town committee, under the rule of Ted, had agreed that her proposal would not only give them something wonderful to look at but would also enhance the unity and history of the town and its people. She’d drawn a grid on the rendered wall, using the outline of the bricks to help map it, and had patiently filled each section in. There wasn’t much left to finish, although she hadn’t been across to her scaffolding for over a month due to bad weather.
She shoved her sense of unhappiness aside and squinted up at her artwork, taking a few minutes to evaluate the colours and hues because she might not get a chance to be this close to it again for days, or maybe weeks. She’d used exterior-grade acrylic in green-gold, sap green, carbon black, nickel yellow, raw sienna and burnt umber. She’d adjusted the flow and working properties of each colour until she’d reached the blend she wanted.
It was a shame the only vision in her head was Josh.
She sighed, shivered a little, then turned to descend the ladder. Her feet were cold, even in her work boots and the metal of the ladder was slippery. She held onto the cold rungs and was half way down when she lost her footing. Her woollen gloves gave her no grip as she fought to find the next rung with her feet. She stumbled down three or four rungs, then someone grabbed her waist.
‘Let go!’ The man was pulling her off the ladder. She gripped it more firmly. He had an arm around her waist. ‘Get off or I’ll fall!’ He yanked her off and she kicked.
‘Jesus, Gem, what the hell have you got on your feet? Steelcapped boots?’
Josh!
He pulled her against him, angled her to one side then kicked the ladder away from them as it fell.
It landed with a clashing ring on the slush on the ground.
‘It was me, Gem,’ he said as she wriggled to get out of his arms. ‘Who did you think it was?’
‘I thought you were Dave,’ she said, huffing as she caught her breath.
‘What?’ Josh let her go, but her feet weren’t on the ground and she stumbled backwards. He shot out a hand to steady her. She shook herself, straightening her jacket and pushing stray bits of hair from her face.
‘He bothers you often?’ Josh asked.
‘No. I just got a fright.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I was thinking about something else, that’s all. Sorry about your shins. Did I hurt you?’
‘You need orange cones,’ he told her. ‘To warn pedestrians of possible danger. I’m surprised Ted hasn’t got you harnessed in abseiling gear and the area cordoned off with building-site tape.’
‘He sug
gested the tape and the cones, but I told him there was no need—I mean, the scaffolding is seven metres high, two metres wide and not easily missed.’ She paused. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I was hoping we could have our business chat.’
’Oh, business.’ Gem fiddled with the large hoop earrings she wore and licked her lips, tasting the red lipstick. Beneath her fleece-lined jacket she wore a thick white V-necked T-shirt. She’d been warm enough for the winter cold, but now she felt hot. And a little bothered.
‘I was wondering—what your position is,’ he said. ‘And if you needed help in some way. I mean—are you in a position to make the purchase?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure?’
No, but she wasn’t going to let Josh know that. ‘I wouldn’t mind a week or two to gets things finalised.’
‘No problem. And what about the flat above? Are you intending to live in it?’
‘Of course. Where else would I live?’
‘I’ve got a place in mind. A five minute walk out of town.’
‘What place?’ she asked, frowning.
He shook his head. ‘Maybe later. Let’s stick to the shop for the moment.’
‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I am a little busy. Can we have this chat tomorrow?’
Josh looked up at the wall and Gem’s gaze followed.
She’d covered the entire surface. Two dark-brown trunks intertwined, growing upwards in a figure-eight pattern until the branches started to spread out. She’d painted the town’s plaque in a deep gold at the centre. From there, the boughs crept along the wall, either side of the trunks, reaching up to the roof. Josh would recognise all the names of the town’s families, inscribed on smaller shields. She’d created history on a wall. One thing to be proud of but she couldn’t tell from Josh’s expression what he was thinking.
‘It’s not graffiti,’ she said. ‘Don’t utter that word unless you top it with “art”.’
‘I wasn’t about to say anything except … it’s stunning, of course. It’s got flair. And charm.’ He looked her up and down then grinned. ‘Bit like you. When you’re not covering up whatever’s bothering you with your temper.’