‘I guess.’
‘Well, it would have set Mick back thousands if he’d had to replace everything, not to mention the shed itself. As I always say, it pays to be prepared. Without insurance, he would be in a hell of a mess.’
‘You’re right – remember what happened to poor Mr Johnson when the river flooded? It took him almost four years to recover and get back to where he was.’
Jack nodded his head. ‘You can never be too careful when it comes to future-proofing. You’ve got to look ahead, Bec, and try to be prepared for everything that Mother Nature throws at you.’
***
‘Oh, come on, Bec, I haven’t seen you in ages,’ Sally Blackwell said.
Bec bit down a sigh as she held the phone to her ear. ‘I know, I know – sorry.’
‘You don’t have to be sorry, just come around. How about we all meet at the Black Sheep for dinner this Saturday? Let’s say seven thirty, and I’ll call Tash and we’ll make it a girls’ night out.’
‘Okay, I can do that.’
‘Good, and don’t cancel. I mean it, Bec – everyone deserves a bit of down time and fun, including you.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Ha! See you on Saturday.’
‘Alright – bye!’ Bec flicked off the phone and shoved it back in her pocket. She reached down and hoisted the last couple of hay bales onto her ute before tying the load down. Sally had been trying to catch up with her for ages and every time they made a plan something would happen to blow it out of the water. Bec pulled hard on the rope before knotting it. To be honest, it was always something happening at Bluestone Ridge that made Bec cancel her plans. Well, this time she was going to go out and that was that. The farm and her dad would just have to wait, because Sally was right, everyone did deserve time off. Bec opened the car door and took off her hat and threw it onto the passenger seat. She slid into the driver’s seat before reaching out and swivelling the rear-vision mirror towards her. She stared at her reflection for a second – she was hot and flushed, and not in good way, from loading up the hay bales. Not to mention that she was sporting a classic example of hat head. She pulled out the hair tie from her ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to make it a bit better.
Bec readjusted the mirror. It would be nice to meet the girls for dinner and it would be a change to actually wear something other than work boots and jeans. Without another thought, Bec fired up the engine and started her drive over to Stringy Creek to deliver the stock feed for the second time in a week.
Chapter 3
The next day, Matt walked down the dirt road towards Bluestone Ridge. It was almost four o’clock in the afternoon, and the air still held its heat. He’d spent most of the day unpacking the last of his boxes. Storage in his cottage was lacking to say the least and he’d had to get creative. A couple of days ago he’d gone to Bendigo and bought a couple of large bookcases. They were made of dark wood and had a ladder attached to it. Matt figured that they were the closest he’d ever get to having a library. They’d been delivered this morning and he’d set them up in the second bedroom, which he was converting to his office. With the last box of books emptied, Matt had stood back and admired his handiwork. It was a good job and the shelves looked great crammed with all his volumes. A little flash of pride had bubbled up inside him when he’d placed his own two works – Complicity and Paranoia – on the middle shelf.
With his library set up, he’d decided that he’d get some fresh air and maybe do a little vlogging at the same time. He made himself walk each day, even if his leg was aching – whether or not he’d ever be able to get rid of his bloody walking stick remained to be seen. All he knew was that the days he didn’t do his exercises and take a walk, his leg would stiffen up and give him grief.
He flicked on the camera as he walked along. The dried-up pastures of Bluestone Ridge spread out before him.
He aimed the camera at himself. ‘Hi everyone. Today I thought I’d show you how pretty it is out here.’ Matt turned the camera and panned it across the countryside. He spent a minute or two zooming in on three burly-looking sheep that were standing under a gnarled peppercorn while he chatted on. When he thought his viewers had probably had enough of all things rural, he turned off the camera and continued down the road.
In the distance he could see the tall ridge that ran behind the old Duprey house and the wire-fenced paddocks that seemed to roll on forever. The edges of the road were sparsely scattered with a handful of gum trees which gave some feathery shade as he passed. He’d been walking for about ten minutes when he saw his neighbour’s gate come into view. Where the rest of the property had a wire dropper fence, the garden around the house was different. As Matt neared it he could see that the old fence was made out of bluestone. Well, that wasn’t a huge surprise, given the property’s name. He turned on the camera again.
‘This is so cool – you’ve got to see this,’ he said as he focused in on the fence and then the amazing gate.
The gateposts were made out of the same stone and stood tall, thick and solid. On the top of each post sat a round, smooth stone ball. There was also a botanical image of a vine carved into the front of each gatepost. Matt went in for a closer look – maybe it was ivy . . . yeah, it looked like ivy.
A large black metal gate with fleur-de-lis finials finished off the whole look. Matt zoomed in again, this time focusing on the circular drive beyond the gate and the old two-storey house. The house was also made out of stone and encapsulated the elegance of a bygone era. It seemed odd that such a grand and imposing house should be here in the middle of nowhere.
‘What exactly are you playing at?’
Matt jumped and almost dropped his camera. He swung around and saw Bec Duprey standing in front of her ute with her hands on her hips. Funny, he’d been so wrapped up in what he was doing he hadn’t even heard her pull up.
‘Um, I was just looking at your great old fence.’
‘Really. Well, why don’t you go back to your place and film your fence instead?’
‘But your fence is so much cooler than mine.’ Matt held up the camera. ‘I’m guessing this is Rebecca Duprey and she’s pissed because I didn’t ask her permission to film her gate. And she’s right, I should have asked. Listen, I’m sorry about that.’
‘Generally an apology like that only means that you’re sorry that I caught you. You’re lucky it was me who sprung you – Dad would have set the dogs on you.’
Matt turned off the camera and walked towards her. ‘Hey, I really am sorry. I didn’t mean any harm.’ The setting sun cast a light on Bec and highlighted her dark blonde hair and the smattering of freckles across her nose. She was wearing a pair of well-worn jeans and a chambray shirt and had her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked so bright and vibrant, like she belonged to the landscape itself.
‘Folks around here don’t like strangers poking around. You need to ask before you go filming – especially people’s homes.’
‘Sorry.’
She raised an eyebrow at him before she got back in her car. ‘You’ve already said that.’
As Matt hurried up to the window he caught the scent of hay in the air. ‘But I am sorry. I just got carried away with the fence, that’s all. And thanks for not setting the dogs on me.’ ‘You’d better go home, Mr Harvey, before you get yourself into real trouble,’ Bec said as she fired up the car and entered the long driveway into her property.
Matt watched as her ute disappeared. Damn it, he always seemed to screw up in front of her.
***
It was just past 7:00 p.m. on Saturday night when Bec walked into the kitchen wearing a dark blue sundress that skimmed her knees and a pair of strappy sandals. Summer was long gone but the heat was still lingering on, although to be on the safe side she’d grabbed her trusty denim jacket in case it cooled down.
‘I thought we’d tackle the accounts after dinner,’ her father said, not bothering to look up from the kitchen table.
/> Bec took in a breath. Just once she’d like to be able to go out without having to face down her father.
‘Sorry, Dad, I can’t tonight. I’m meeting the girls for dinner at the pub.’
Jack raised his head. ‘Alright, we’ll do it afterwards.’
‘Nope, not tonight. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’
‘How long does dinner take?’ he said as he pinned her with his stare.
‘Don’t know – but the books are going to have to wait.’
Maggie breezed into the kitchen and managed to defuse the building tension.
‘Hello, darling, are you off somewhere?’
‘Just having dinner with the girls.’
‘Apparently it’s more important than the books,’ Jack grumbled from the table.
‘Well, of course it is. For heaven’s sake, Jack, it’s Saturday night and Bec should be out rather than poring over the blasted accounts. Come to think of it, we should be out as well. We could drive up to Bendigo and find a nice restaurant – it’s been an age since we’ve gone out to dinner.’
Jack pushed himself away from the table. ‘Not tonight, Maggie. Don’t worry about the accounts, Bec – we’ll tackle them on Monday. Have a good night,’ he said as he wheeled his chair out of the kitchen.
Bec went to open her mouth but Maggie held up her hand.
‘Don’t even think about staying in tonight. Go and have a good time and say hello to Sally for me. Remind her she still owes me her grandmother’s fruitcake recipe.’
Bec smiled at her mum. ‘I will.’
Maggie gave her a quick hug. ‘Now off you go.’
‘But Mum, what about Dad?’
‘Nothing for you to worry about. Just go and have a nice time.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ Bec said with a smile before she walked out the back door and headed for her car.
***
Bec opened the window as she pulled out of the driveway and headed towards town. It was a balmy night and the wind felt good as it blew in her hair.
She parked the car under the old elm tree on the corner and walked up the old stone steps of the Black Sheep. The hotel had been the very first building to be built in White Gum Creek back in 1874 – which kind of said a lot about the town as a whole. For two long years the town had consisted of a series of tents and shanty buildings made up of uneven boards but the pub was fashioned in bluestone. Perhaps as an act of contrition the church had been erected quickly after the pub’s completion, followed by the bakery and the school.
Bec strolled through the hotel, which was filled with half a dozen of the regulars propped up at the long polished wooden bar. She gave Brett the publican a wave as she sailed past and into the dining room. The room had been decorated in a modern style that made the most of the elegance of the original Victorian architecture. Tash and Sally were already waiting for her and both of them waved as she stepped through the door.
‘Hey, I was beginning to wonder if you were actually going to show,’ Sally said as she gave her a quick hug. Sally had a small build which was balanced out by curly blonde hair that bounced around her shoulders. She always seemed to be upbeat and her husband, Davey, always said that she lit up any room she walked into.
‘I’m not late, you know.’
‘Yeah, but you bailed on the last couple of nights, so we weren’t sure,’ Tash added as she kissed her cheek.
‘Well, I’m here now.’
‘Good – because it’s been too long since you were sprung from Bluestone Ridge.’ Tash pushed a strand of straight dark hair behind her ear. She was the opposite of Sally. Whereas Sally had a bubbly quality about her and tended to wear her heart on her sleeve, Tash was quieter and more reserved.
‘God, Tash – you make it sound like a prison.’
Tash winked. ‘Hey, I call it as I see it. Anyway, I’m grabbing some drinks – what would you like?’
‘Just a white wine, thanks.’
‘Back in a tick.’ Tash headed to the bar.
Sally leant forward. ‘So, what’s been happening with you?’
Bec shrugged as she smiled at her friend. ‘Nothing – just the same old, same old. How about you?’
‘Just hanging out for the school holidays. I love my students but I have to admit I won’t be sorry when this term is over.’
Bec raised her eyebrow. ‘Hasn’t school just gone back?’
‘Yeah, don’t remind me,’ Sally said with a grin. ‘No, I’m just kidding. But I’ve had a couple of new students from outside the area move in and it’s changed the dynamics of the group. It’ll get better, it just takes time.’
‘Really? That’s weird.’
‘What is?’
‘People moving into town – I always assume that people move away and not the other way around.’
‘Well, so much for your town pride and all that. Why wouldn’t people move here? White Gum Creek is great.’
‘If you like tiny towns, quiet nights and the only bit of excitement being the next footy/cricket/netball game.’
‘Wow, aren’t we sounding jaded and sorry for ourselves?’
‘Who’s feeling sorry for themselves?’ Tash asked as she arrived back at the table carrying three drinks.
‘Bec is.’
‘I am not – I was only commenting on how quiet our town is.’
‘Well, thank heavens some people do move in. I always think they bring a breath of fresh air to the place,’ Tash said as she sat down and picked up her glass. ‘Here’s to the blow-ins – long may they, well, blow in. Present company included.’
‘Thank you. I sometimes forget I’m a blow-in – this just feels like home,’ Sally said as she clinked her glass with Tash’s. ‘How long before I’m regarded as a local?’
‘Um . . . at least another twenty years.’ Bec grinned as she added her glass to her friends’. ‘Cheers.’
‘Speaking of blow-ins,’ said Tash, ‘the rumour mill has it that your new neighbour is a writer of some sort, and I can confirm that he is very easy on the eyes. I caught a glimpse of him the other day when he came into the bakery. The man’s hot. Would you like to comment?’
‘Funnily enough, no thanks, Tash – I wouldn’t.’
‘So you haven’t met him yet?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Aha! So tell us everything,’ Sally prompted.
‘There’s not that much to tell. He had a fire going the other day at his place and I told him to put it out – end of story.’
Tash blew out a breath. ‘That’s it? How bloody boring.’
‘I wonder what happened to his leg?’ Sally took a sip of her wine before she started looking at the menu.
‘What’s the matter with it?’ Bec asked.
‘He uses a walking stick – you didn’t notice when you were talking to him?’
‘I guess I didn’t.’
‘So why don’t you go over and try and have a normal . . . that is, friendly conversation with the man?’ Tash asked.
Bec stared at her friend as if she’d just hatched another head. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’
‘Nope, she’s not,’ Sally said. ‘I saw him the other day in town and it’s true – he is cute. You know, he’s got that whole tortured writer thing going on.’
Bec rolled her eyes. ‘Oh please . . . just stop, okay?’
Tash gave her a nudge. ‘No, just think about it – how often does a single, hot male voluntarily move to White Gum Creek?’
‘She has a point.’ Sally shrugged as she took another sip of her wine.
‘Look, if you’re so intrigued by Matt Harvey why don’t you go and talk to him?’
Sally raised her hands. ‘Hey, I’m happily married to my Prince Charming.’
‘I wasn’t talking to you.’
Tash raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Oh, you know that I can’t start anything. My heart’s already taken.’
Bec and Sally glanced at each other. They knew precisely who Tash was talking about, but
neither had the heart to tell their friend that her dearest wish would never come to anything. Nicholas Langtree had moved to the area about seven years ago and bought property up on Winter’s Hill. He’d fallen for a local girl and just as they were starting a life together tragedy had struck and he’d lost everything. From then on Nicholas became a ghost of the man he’d once been. He stayed at Winter’s Hill and barely came in to town. It was obvious to Bec that he carried the past with him just like the burn scars on the back of his hands.
‘Um . . .’ she and Sally ventured in unison.
‘I know, I know what you’re going to say. There’s absolutely no way that Nicholas Langtree will ever look at me. But there’s something there – I swear it. When we do bump into each other, there’s something . . . really . . . I promise I’m not making it up.’
‘Sweetheart, the man’s a recluse – we hardly ever see him. You know that since the fire he’s just kept to himself.’ Said Bec.
‘Yes, he’s been through a terrible tragedy, losing his family and all – but that’s why I have to try. I can’t leave him mouldering up at Winter’s Hill year after year – I just can’t.’
‘Tash, he doesn’t want company. We all tried but he just wants to be left alone. That’s what he told everyone,’ Sally said. ‘Besides that – well, he’s a bit odd.’
‘He said that a long time ago. And you’d be odd too if you spent your life shut up with ghosts and shadows. There may not be any future in it for the two of us, but at least I can try to get him to join the human race again.’
‘Hmm, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up,’ Bec said.
‘Or get hurt,’ Sally added.
‘I won’t,’ Tash said with added conviction. ‘Besides, we digress. I don’t know how the hell we ended up talking about me when we should be concentrating on Bec’s doomed love life.’
‘What do you mean, doomed?’
‘Exactly what I said.’
Bec winced. ‘Come on – it’s not that bad.’
Sally let out a laugh. ‘Are you kidding me? When was the last time you actually went on a date . . . with a man . . . in the moonlight?’
Country Roads Page 4