by Eva Scott
Words eluded her completely. So, in the quiet of the moment, she simply covered Nonna’s hand with her own.
‘The important thing to remember when you read those articles is that your family kept their heads held high and they got through the tough times. They survived.’
Annalisa gave her grandmother a hug. ‘Thank you for everything.’
‘It’s nothing. We have to stick together, especially when trouble is coming. That’s what families do.’
‘What do you mean, when trouble is coming?’ Annalisa helped Nonna load up her files and the empty baking dish and carry them to her car.
Nonna put her things on the back seat, taking her time before answering. When she was finished, she turned and laid one hand gently against Annalisa’s cheek in a tender gesture.
‘Each generation has had its troubles. This Carpenter’s Warehouse is yours. Go read the Book of Cappelli. I think you’ll see that this challenge may be harder to tackle than anything Cappellis have had to deal with before. Maybe even too hard.’ Nonna shrugged. ‘Who knows?’
She gave Annalisa a bear hug that belied the fragility of her age, then left her standing in a state of shock as she manoeuvred herself delicately into the car and shut the door. The engine revved to life and the window slid down.
‘Make sure to get that head of yours in the game. Your happiness depends on it, mi acara.’ With that, she spun her wheels in the gravel driveway and took off into the night.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Virginia Carpenter ruffled the ears of her son’s chocolate labrador as she sat drinking wine by the fire pit in her garden. While Virginia loathed camping, she was partial to a good open fire.
Ed watched the firelight play across her delicate features. The years had barely touched her, only noticeable in the fine lines around her eyes. She had always joked that the secret to holding age at bay was to stay out of her husband’s business. As he sat here looking at her now, he suspected it wasn’t a joke.
‘I’m not sure I have a choice.’ He unscrewed the bottle of pinot noir they’d been drinking and refilled his mother’s glass. ‘Rosie had her assistant arrange for a separate site office for the landscaping department to be set up on location; says it will do me good to get my hands dirty.’
‘What does she want you to do out there? Start digging the flowerbeds?’
Ed groaned in mock pain. ‘Don’t give her any ideas, Mum. You know what she’s like.’
‘Margaret Thatcher on crack.’
Ed nearly snorted his wine. ‘You got that right in one,’ he said once he’d recovered. ‘She’s put me in charge of testing the waters locally, seeing if there’s any pushback to the warehouse opening. You are also looking at the head landscape designer on the project. I shall be the official Carpenter representative in the region.’ He grinned and held up his glass in a toast to himself.
Virginia was not fooled. ‘How much longer are you going to keep this up, Edward?’
He shrugged, his eyes on the fire so he couldn’t see the worried look on his mother’s face. ‘I don’t have a choice. I need the money. It’s either this or sell my shares.’
Virginia sighed. ‘It always comes back to that in the end.’
‘If I sell, then a chunk of the company passes out of the family. Dad would spin in his grave.’
‘Not to mention the fact that Rosie would have an aneurism. I care about my stepdaughter but that doesn’t make me blind to her faults.’ Virginia turned her attention to her wine, leaving Ripley in need of someone else to rub his head.
‘Not before she’d have a hit taken out on me. Mind you, Oliver is more than capable of organising that.’ Ed laughed bitterly. ‘He certainly looks the part these days.’
‘What is it with those awful braces?’ Virginia asked.
Ripley nosed Ed’s hand until it fitted to the top of his slightly bumpy head. Ed absent-mindedly scratched his fur and the dog settled in with a contented sigh.
‘I won’t stay forever. I just need to work out how to get on my feet again.’
‘If it’s only money, I could always lend you some.’ They’d had this conversation many times. Virginia, made wealthy from her husband’s insurance policy and watertight will, had more money than she knew what to do with.
‘As I’ve said before, I’m very grateful for the offer but I want to do this by myself.’ The chilly, dark night waited outside the comforting glow of the fire pit. He could sense the past hiding out there, flickering on the edges of his vision. ‘For myself.’
He’d survived the first wave of the pandemic as people requested garden do-overs in response to the boredom and confinement of lockdown. Then things changed. The pandemic took one of his team. Michael Flynn was a victim of the second wave of the virus.
When his entire team had to go into quarantine, things had begun to fall apart. Some of them quit, unwilling or unable to work any longer. He hadn’t been able to fill contracts and jobs had been cancelled. He would have been better off clipping hedges and mowing lawns than designing gardens and public spaces. History saw him caught on the wrong end of the business and on the back foot.
Which brought him here, drinking wine with his mother and contemplating bunking down in a bed and breakfast somewhere in Bendigo rather than having to face his siblings to tell them he wanted out.
‘The first step back to some kind of normal might be getting your own place.’ Virginia said this lightly as if the thought had only just occurred to her. ‘I mean, I do love having you here, Edward. You can stay in the guesthouse as long as you like. You and Ripley. I only think that it would do you good to get some forward traction again. You’ve been moping about for months and I’m worried about you.’
This was Virginia’s version of a motherly hug.
‘Point taken, Mum. I’ll think about it while I’m up in the Goldfields, okay?’ She was right and that rankled.
‘Take your time, dear. I enjoy having Ripley around. You are leaving him here when you go, aren’t you?’
‘Might be for the best. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing up there other than driving around annoying the locals. I won’t be gone for long.’
‘Treat it like a mini break. It will do you good to get out from under Rosie’s stilettos.’
The image provoked a laugh. ‘How can we be so different from each other?’
‘I know your father called you Budgie, but for me you were always my little cuckoo in the nest. Personally, I think it’s a good thing you’re so different. You’re more like me than your father.’ She smiled at him and raised her glass in salute.
He did look more like his mother, with the same thick, sandy hair and blue eyes. He’d inherited her long, slender build. His father’s genetic influence could be seen in Rosie and Oliver with their nuggety stature; they possessed his terrier-style nature too.
‘I always felt lonely amongst all that ambition until you came along,’ said Virginia, intuiting his thoughts. She did a lot of that. Possibly because they’d always shared a special bond, undiminished by the years he spent overseas.
Ed’s phone pinged with an incoming message. He fought the urge to check the sender, hoping GoldfieldsGirl was returning his message. Or it could be Rosie with another instruction. He knew which he’d prefer.
As his mother talked about inconsequential things and people he didn’t know, Ed let his mind drift. The trip out into rural Victoria wouldn’t be so bad, especially with the opportunity to meet GoldfieldsGirl and pay her a surprise visit.
Her profile picture showed her to be a pretty, bubbly-looking dark-haired girl. It also showed her to be about fifteen years old with her hair in schoolgirl bunches and he knew she’d grown up since then. His profile picture sported Ripley in a bandana so … He let his imagination wander to what she might look like now.
She’d first come to his notice on the Goldfields community page when he’d provoked a conversation about the possibility of Carpenter’s Warehouse coming to the area. She’d respon
ded with passion and intelligence, speaking about the tradition of the town stretching back over a hundred years and that small business had contributed to that continuity. Something about her had inspired him to contact her privately and even now he couldn’t describe what that had been.
Their conversations had blossomed into a kind of friendship, providing an emotional lifeline he hadn’t known he needed. She was someone who didn’t know him from before his business collapsed. She didn’t have any preconceived ideas of who he should be. With her, he could be himself, the version of Ed that was emerging slowly from the ashes. All he knew was that conversations with GoldfieldsGirl had felt like sunlight and freedom.
Rosie and Oliver would not approve.
When Virginia left him and Ripley by the fire to organise dinner, Ed fantasised about meeting GoldfieldsGirl for the first time, what they would talk about and how he’d make her laugh. He’d go to Wongilly, track her down and their eyes would meet. Their chemistry would spark and their friendship would be as strong as it was online. She would, of course, find him devilishly attractive.
He chuckled at his own vanity.
The truth was none of those things would happen. If she knew who he was, she’d never let him in the front door.
GoldfieldsGirl TUE @ 6:42 PM
I just got my arse kicked by my 75 yr old Nonna. She did, however, soften the blow with cannelloni. Tell Ripley hi.
GardenerGuy94 TUES @ 7:10 PM
Ripley wants to know what you did to get into trouble with your grandma. He wants to know if it involves stealing shoes.
GoldfieldsGirl TUES @ 7:15 PM
Tell Ripley that Nonna keeps the business books for me and she tells me things aren’t great. I’ve got to try harder but I’m not sure if I can pull this off. Nothing like the weight of 6 generations behind you. No pressure, right?
GoldfieldsGirl TUES @ 7:16 PM
PS. No shoes were harmed in the making of this disaster.
GardenerGuy94 TUES @ 7:18 PM
I used to have my own business before I started working for my family. I did okay. Feel free to bounce ideas off me if you like.
GoldfieldsGirl TUES @ 7:25 PM
As soon as I have a single decent idea I’ll let you know. I sometimes wonder about my life. I wonder if I’m in the right one. It’s as if I’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere and I don’t know how to get back to where I started. Do you ever feel like that?
GardenerGuy94 TUES @ 7:32 PM
You have no idea.
CHAPTER THREE
Ed turned the Toyota Hilux into the driveway of the warehouse site at the end of a very long couple of days. He’d visited a number of small towns, hamlets, villages and one place that may have qualified as a ghost town. Now he was here, at the location of the latest Carpenter’s Warehouse.
The warehouse squatted in what once had been grazing pasture, its presence making a bold statement of change in a tasteful shade of dark blue. Aside from putting in the shop fittings and filling the warehouse with stock, the landscaping was the only thing left to do.
He drove through the empty car park and across into the next field. The car bumped down a disused dirt driveway, rutted by rain and wind over time. An old farmhouse had once occupied the space. The owner, an elderly gentleman, had passed away almost a year ago. The farm had failed to sell for what his children hoped and they’d been more than happy to do a deal with Oliver who had, in turn, done a deal with the local council. Everybody was happy.
He pulled up in front of the site office, his temporary workplace for the foreseeable future. Rose wanted him there to oversee the general landscaping. She wanted to harness his professional skills, although she insisted landscape gardeners didn’t amount to much more than glamorous labourers in her book. She had, rather patronisingly, acknowledged his good looks and charm, making him responsible for community relations and the opening day ribbon cutting ceremony.
Ed had been keen to get his teeth into the planting matrix, but not so keen on the community stuff. Turns out he enjoyed meeting and talking with people. A fact he planned to keep from Rosie in case she reassigned him out of spite.
Turning off the engine, Ed stepped out and stretched, delivering a mighty yawn. Driving long distances made him weary. He’d covered a lot of ground checking in with locals from the catchment area outlined in his file. On paper, the distance didn’t look so great, a fact which failed to translate into reality. On the upside, he’d found several great bakeries and one exceptional pub.
Grabbing his duffle bag, he headed to the portable office. It sat opposite the old farmhouse, its presence like an obscene gesture to the past. He wondered what the farmer might have made of the development and couldn’t help but imagine his displeasure. Ed hoped the ghost of the man had moved on—he didn’t need him haunting the warehouse or him for that matter.
He swung open the door, revealing more luxury than he’d thought possible in a small space. Trust Rosie to go for a deluxe model. She never scrimped on quality, he’d give her that. She had the Carpenter name to uphold, a job she took very seriously.
The day had begun to tip into afternoon and right now, he fancied a hot shower and a cold beer. Maybe even a movie, perhaps Brooklyn After Dark, the classic gangster flick of his teen years. Everyone loved that one. He’d watched it a million times with his mates to the point where it had an almost comforting quality for him.
After throwing the duffle bag on the couch, he checked where he could plug in his phone and his laptop. Then he spent some time exploring the office, opening and closing every cupboard. The bathroom was revelatory, being like something he might have had in his tiny London flat. While the place amounted to little more than a posh caravan, it had everything a person could need to be comfortable: heating, air conditioning, fridge, stove, microwave, and shower. It was more like a mobile home than a temporary office.
What it didn’t have was beer.
Ed checked his watch. He could drive into Wongilly and pick up some supplies. Maybe he’d order some pizza or takeaway, something he could easily reheat later for dinner.
He punched the town name into his phone, which dutifully told him it was exactly twenty-one minutes from the farm to the town’s shops. Should he swing past and check out Cappelli’s Hardware? It was the last known hardware store on his list and the only one that he was truly interested in for its history, and its potential to give them trouble.
Handily, Wongilly was also GoldfieldsGirl’s hometown.
Stretching out on the couch, he placed one arm behind his head and contemplated the pristine, shiny white ceiling. If he went over there today, would he spend time finding GoldfieldsGirl? How hard would it be to find her when he didn’t know her name? Wongilly was a small town. Someone would know of a dark-haired woman calling herself GoldfieldsGirl and living near a field full of wildflowers.
For the past few days he’d agonised over whether or not to declare himself and ask to meet her or simply pop into town incognito, see if he could find her and take things from there. The problem with meeting someone you’d only ever spoken with online was that the idea you had of each other might not pan out in reality. Then the whole relationship could be lost. Ed didn’t want that to happen.
He had a job to do. A conversation needed to be had with Cappelli’s Hardware and its future. Business first. Maybe the owner would know of GoldfieldsGirl. He had to find a way to ask that didn’t make him sound like a lunatic.
He wanted to surprise her. If he failed to track her down over the next couple of days, he’d bite the bullet and ask her to meet him anyway. His accommodation in Bendigo wasn’t that far and he could always sleep here on the couch if he had to.
Nervous excitement shimmied through him. The two of them had taken their casual chat and turned it into a proper friendship. A part of him wondered if there might be more to their story, if the connection they had online could be stronger in the flesh.
He sat up and scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, at
tacking the tiredness that had begun to make his eyes itchy.
Ed had started a conversation with GoldfieldsGirl about big corporations coming to the country. He hoped she didn’t take against him when she found out he represented one of those big corporations who would, one way or another, be responsible for closing a small family business in her town belonging to people she probably knew.
He hadn’t wanted to spoil their connection by telling her he was a Carpenter when she so clearly thought very little of big business. Their friendship had brought him joy during some very tough times. To be fair, he’d never thought they’d meet face-to-face. Okay, so he’d never seriously thought about their future much beyond responding to her last message. Now the opportunity was here, he’d be a fool not to take it.
‘Let’s deal with the facts and only the facts,’ he said to the empty room. ‘I more than like GoldfieldsGirl. I represent bad things for the small business in her town. I am hungry and I have no food or beer. I am tired and do not want to get into any heavy conversations today.’
Each word dropped into the stillness, muffled by the close confines of the site office. Outside, a crow cawed loudly as if answering him. Or maybe it was alerting its fellow crows to the fact there was a new resident at the farm, and therefore the possibility of food. Crows never missed a thing.
‘Right.’ Ed slapped his hands on his thighs and pushed himself up. ‘No harm in going into town to get supplies. I can drive past Cappelli’s and see if it’s open. I need to know where it is anyway. Nothing but professional curiosity, and if I happen to pass a wildflower field on the way …’
He caught sight of his reflection in a mirror hung up at the other end of the caravan. Ed did not look convinced.
‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I need a plan and this is it.’
Shrugging at his reflection, he picked up his keys and wallet, letting the office door bang shut behind him before he changed his mind.
The trip to Wongilly turned out to be straightforward with one road in and one road out. No navigation aid required. The town had an air of a grand dame past her prime yet retaining a sense of dignity underneath the peeling paint. A handful of shops were for rent, their empty windows like gaps in a smile along the main street.