Rebecca kept refilling her wine glass. How many had she had? Three? She’d lost count but revelled in the floaty freedom it provided her.
“No, I haven’t told you. I’m in Rosebrooke replacing a woman who’s on maternity leave.”
“What! You’ve been less than an hour away and you haven’t told me!” Bec scorned at her. “What are you doing there? The bank shut down, didn’t it, a few years back?”
“Yeah it did. I’m staying in the cottage out the back of the old bank. Do you remember it?”
Rebecca nodded, her curly hair bouncing. Her hair was more blonde than brown, but if she’d been out in the sun—which she often was with kids—it developed a gorgeous auburn tint.
Rebecca was the opposite of Vivienne—they both wore size twelve clothes, but Bec stood shorter and had glasses and the same curly hair gene. But, in Vivienne’s eyes she was so much more than her. Bec’s personality was illuminating and caused everyone around her to glow. It was as if she was untouched. She had travelled through childhood without a glitch and lived free of violence. Those traits had allowed her to find the most adorable and loving husband and father in Todd and they had created a wonderful family. Whenever around them, their family life and relationship replenished Vivienne’s belief that happiness was possible and true love existed. Children could be raised in a safe and blessed environment. Bec did resemble their father and sometimes Vivienne trembled just looking at her. But, Bec had never experienced his evil. Somehow, in her rare visits with him, she’d avoided his terrible wrath.
Vivienne had thought long and hard about it. Wallowed in self-pity many a time. Why her and not Bec? But getting over that, she realised that her father had been the Disneyland dad seeing Bec every now and then and sometimes on school holidays. Bec only spent brief periods of time with their father because no one other than him and Bec’s mother knew she existed.
Plus, he was calculating. Her father had targeted defenceless women with his violence, never vulnerable children.
When Vivienne and Rebecca had met only a few short years ago at her father’s funeral, Vivienne had wanted to hate her.
The secret love child.
At the time loathing had welled up within Vivienne mixed with a fierce protectiveness to guard her mother from any further pain.
No such luck because Rebecca had been so likeable! She’d had no hang-ups about her past, their father or life in general and she’d been excited to meet Vivienne. Now, they each had a sister.
Vivienne’s cold streak had taken a while to defrost. But Rebecca had hung in there, not giving up and for that Vivienne had been grateful. Not only had she gained a sister, but also a best friend.
“Yeah, it’s in the main street, up towards the top?”
“Yep, that’s right.”
“But what are you doing?”
Vivienne emitted a groan. “I have to go around and deliver default notices to locals who haven’t paid their mortgage. If they don’t pay their arrears within the thirty days, the bank will take their house!”
“Urgh, Viv, that’s awful. What a foul job. How are you coping with it?”
“Bec, I was so naïve. I didn’t realise the full implications of what I might have to do. Steve, my boss, did explain it to me and said it was temporary. I’m always happy to help, particularly because Suzanne needed to start maternity leave and no one else was available at short notice. I thought I could use it as a mini-break in the country. But the only break that is likely might be a breakdown. It is awful. These people take it so personally . . .”
“Viv, it is personal. You’re telling them to pay up or else they lose their home. It isn’t great news.”
Of course, her sister, so astute, would have realised how tough the gig was before taking it on.
“Yes, obviously, now that I’ve had the experience and thought about it more, it’s devastating news to be delivering. I’ve had threatening run-ins with all the people so far. With one couple, the man yelled and threw a vase at me and if his wife hadn’t been there to calm him down I’m not sure what might have happened. I was frightened,” she confessed.
“And the others?” Bec prompted.
“You won’t believe it. I turned up to an idyllic dairy farm-honestly, the place sits at the end of a lane, atop a hill range and is picture-perfect. I arrive and there’s no one around, so I go in search of the farmer, or owner at least.”
“Mm.”
“Mummy, can we have another slice of chocolate cake please,” Gigi asked in her sweetest voice.
Whilst Bec sliced further generous servings of cake, Vivienne continued her story. “Listen to this, G. The other day I had to help deliver a little baby cow! It was so exciting. I assisted the farmer and this cute little calf was born.”
“Wow, Aunty Vi. But how did the baby cow get in the mummy cow?” she asked.
Thank goodness the chocolate cake kept her attention diverted, because the little girl munched into it as soon as it was placed in her tiny chubby hands. She walked away with chocolate covering her cherub cheeks, not bothering to wait for an answer.
The sisters laughed. “Talking about the birds and the bees was not on my agenda today,” Bec said.
“Anyway, the birth was amazing. Well, after it was over. Have you ever witnessed it?” Vivienne asked helping herself to a sliver of the cake unable to resist her sister’s cooking.
“No, I haven’t. What do you mean couldn’t get it out? Don’t animals do these things all by themselves?”
“Apparently not. All I know is that the calf was bigger than usual and that meant that it became difficult for the cow to deliver. It was messy. The calf had a chain attached to its hoof, maybe both, I can’t remember, and then it gets pulled out of the cow.” Vivienne crossed her legs and laughter erupted from Bec.
“Yes, I can imagine!”
“Has to hurt. But the cow seemed okay and the calf was born healthy. I had to help the farmer pull and tug and yank until this thing came out. Super cute! But, I’ve digressed. I attended to deliver this notice right, and then got distracted delivering a cow—you don’t say that everyday—and then lost the notice and thought I’d have to re-deliver it. But before I could do any of that, I kept running into the farmer.”
“Yes?” The question came loaded.
“Yes. On the road, his herd nearly trampled me when I was running and then I saw him again at the pub. He might have sat with me and had dinner.” Vivienne looked away and focused on a chipped finger nail.
“Vivienne! Tell me more. Is he handsome?”
Vivienne looked up through her lashes and smiled. It felt great. “Yes. Very handsome, rugged, a real bloke, I guess you could say.” She remembered dinner. He’d been attentive, happy, interested, but her grin faded fast.
“What? What is it?”
“He found the notice and worked out who I was. He decided my only intention was to ruin his life and destroy his farm and family and it all went downhill from there.”
“Ouch. Doesn’t he realise it’s just your job?”
“Do you understand how lame that sounds?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
They sat quietly for a moment, watching the children chase butterflies in the garden and squealing with joy as they continued to escape.
“That sucks. It’s the first date you’ve had in ages and he’s handsome and he hates you and the job is hideous. How long did you say you’re staying? At least you can visit us lots. That’s one positive, right?”
“Right. Yes, and I will. Not sure yet, I did ask the bank to find someone else and they said they couldn’t. Once I’ve delivered the notices, there’s isn’t any need for me to hang around. So, probably not much longer.”
“Shame,” Rebecca said as she went to pour more wine.
“Enough. I’ve got to drive back to Rosebrooke,” Vivienne chided.
“Ok, okay. Have a drink of water. Stay for dinner, though, and head back later. You’ll have to tell me more about this job and maybe the
farmer . . .”
It had been a statement more than an invitation but Vivienne agreed stretching back in the sun lounge and enjoying the late afternoon light.
***
The same Sunday afternoon sun shone in the inland ranges. A happy scene played out—two men and a boy yelled animatedly at the T.V. screen urging the football to make it over the line for their favourite team. A girl with dimpled cheeks played with dolls on a mat in the living room in Daniel’s home oblivious to the groans of despair from the men when the ball did not make it.
“You hoo!”
The greeting sung out again.
“Here we go,” muttered Ned under his breath as the short, plumpish lady entered.
Ned took another swig of beer and ignored the woman’s calls.
“Hello? Didn’t you hear me calling?”
“Hello, Estelle,” Daniel said but kept his eyes peeled to the screen.
Daniel’s neighbour, Estelle Winthrop moved to the centre of the room and blocked their view of the television.
“Estelle, what are you dressed up for?” Ned tittered. “Heading off to church, are we?”
Estelle ignored him and faced Daniel.
“How are you, Daniel? Keeping well? I’ve brought over one of my lamb shank casseroles . . .”
“It’s twenty-five degrees Estelle, too hot for casseroles. It’s spring, you know.” Ned and Estelle always exchanged fiery banter but sometimes it went too far.
Ned had trouble controlling his dislike of Estelle. Their relationship had a long history because Ned acted as a barrier to Daniel, and Estelle didn’t like it. Daniel didn’t need his friend’s protection, but he appreciated it, anyway. It may have been her pompous attitude or her dress sense or her busy body personality, or perhaps all three.
Today, she stood large in the small space, despite her stout stature. Her heeled shoes only gave her an extra inch at best. At forty-eight years of age, Estelle acted and dressed like a sixty-year-old. Daniel had given up trying to work her out. It continued to puzzle him why she wore her silk blouses and tweed skirts around the property. But what did it matter to him?
Her home sat direct to the side of his drive. Of course, all distances in the country were great and her house was a good kilometre from his boundary. At times, he’d wished it was five. Her taut high bun worn at the top of her head with its odd black streak didn’t improve matters. She’d always reminded him of Cruella de Ville and Daniel had to make sure he didn’t call her by that name in front of the children.
Was Estelle up at her isolated property skinning valuable dogs for their hides? He didn’t think so, but she remained a mystery. A mystery who had cooked him meals and visited regularly since his wife had died.
“I’ll just place this in the kitchen.” Estelle moved away from the television. “Heat it up in the oven, not the microwave, maybe half an hour on low and it will be delicious.” After depositing the casserole dish on the table—“it’s still warm so it can’t go in the fridge” —she pulled over a kitchen chair and sat close to the armrest of the sofa. Her knees almost touched Daniel’s.
“Did you see there’s a new family in the old Robinson place? Oh yes. They have young children . . .” She moved through various topics without catching her breath. “And, did you know the CWA is holding an art exhibition. You should donate Daniel,” she purred. “It’s all work of local residents . . .”
The men tried to watch the football blaring from the television.
“Estelle, we’ve got better things to think about than the biggest pumpkin prize at the annual fair!” Ned did not take his eyes off the game.
“Really?” She addressed Ned now. “And what would that be?” Her ears twitched.
“Daniel has to find money to save his farm, otherwise he’s out. The bank delivered the news this week . . .”
Daniel’s swift kick to Ned’s shin caused him to yelp.
Sarina sat engrossed in her dolls and Colton would not hear a volcano erupt if the footy was on and his favourite team played.
Estelle’s eyes widened and she swivelled her head and body to face Daniel. She grasped his arm that sat atop the lounge.
Then—as if the words had digested—her hand flung to her mouth and she lifted a laced handkerchief to her lips. Her body deflated into the chair and tears escaped leaving black smudges on her hanky as she dabbed at her eyes.
Ned’s shrug to Daniel said a silent, sorry mate.
“Oh, no, that can’t be possible. Is it true?”
Daniel wanted to ignore her and watch the footy.
Too late now.
Estelle sat her handbag aside and linked her fingers in her lap, creases crossed her brow. Daniel didn’t need to respond as she sat there muttering to herself.
“Steady on now, Estelle. We’re trying to watch the game here.” Ned turned the volume up to deafening.
“I know. I’ve got it!” She jumped up from the chair and the numerous gold and silver bangles on her arms jingled into a musical song.
“It’s simple. You do what I did, Daniel. When I lost dear old Freddy, I couldn’t cope with all that farm land, and the work.” She placed her hand on her brow. “That’s it. That’s what we’ll do.”
“I’ll call Ted,” she continued. “The real estate agent when I get back home. He’ll help you. Yes, that’s it.”
“Whoa, hang on there, Estelle, I’m not selling.” The kids had now stilled and turned to listen to each word.
“No, no Daniel, dear, not sell the house, or the patch of grass for your cows, but the rest, you don’t need it. You can sell off the extra land . . .” she paused, and looked out the window, thinking.
“Develop, yes, that could work! I thought you could sell to a developer to build, what, say three, yes, you’ll fit at least three, probably more, quaint cottages for the tourists. You see, they love it up here. It’s big business. You can do it yourself if you’d prefer and then rent them out. You can even match up with mine and we can form a joint business.” Exulted, Estelle sat back down, problem solved.
Daniel’s voice came out soft and kind. “Estelle, I can’t pay for the mortgage I’ve got, so how will I find the money to develop a tourist camp and build luxurious cottages for visitors to rent on their weekend away?”
“No one said luxurious, did we?” she mocked, lips downturned. “But, yes, I take your point. Okay, you’ll have to sell and let someone else make money out of it. So, unfortunate. Mine is a thriving business, especially during winter.”
“What?” Ned erupted. “Now that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Daniel won’t sell. This is his home, his family’s land.”
Daniel remained silent, bile sitting in his stomach at the talk of selling and of his troubles being publicly aired. It made it real. He pushed thoughts of selling out of his mind. He refused to consider it an option at this point.
The room fell silent.
Estelle brooded to the right and the men sat riveted to the screen. Everything was forgotten as Ned and Daniel sprang from their seats and yelled with joy as a goal was scored. Colton joined in. Ned went off in search of more beer when the music for an advertisement came on. Daniel didn’t speak and looked away from Estelle, hoping she’d get the hint. Holding a finger to her chin in contemplation, Estelle’s earrings swished and the jewels dazzled in the sun.
“I like your earrings, Estelle.” The woman flinched as Sarina spoke to her.
Estelle was twice widowed and did not have any children. She spoke to them as if they were aliens.
“I’d like to get my ears pierced but Daddy says not until I’m ten. Then I can wear long dangly earrings like you.”
“Trust me, pet, you won’t be wearing earrings like these. They are Tiffany,” Estelle said with a pinched mouth.
Estelle sat on the armchair of the settee where Daniel was positioned. Her arm draped along the back reach of the chair, just inches from his body.
“I’m so sorry, Daniel. This is just terrible. How are you cop
ing?”
Daniel was sure her eyelashes fluttered.
“It’ll be fine,” he said.
“Yes, well, I guess you can always revert back to normal dairy practices. That would be a start.”
Ned’s large gulp of beer left his mouth and sprayed across the room.
“Uncle Ned, ugh gross,” Sarina cried.
Colton stood amused. “Cool,” he said even though he wiped the residue from his sleeve.
“What the hell are you on about, woman? This is a dairy farm and it operates just as it should. What do you even know about it? Have you become an expert on modern milking practices since we last spoke?”
“Steady on,” Daniel said, placing his arm on Ned. Even if his friend did speak the words formed in his own mind.
Ned shook off his arm. “What’s she doing coming around here telling you what to do?” Daniel recognised that Ned’s fuse had been lit and burned hot.
“If you hadn’t told her what the problem was, she wouldn’t be saying all this, would she?” Daniel said through gritted teeth.
Ned sat back and gulped a large sip.
“It will all work out, I will think of a solution. It is not anyone else’s problem. It’s mine.” Daniel said the words but no one listening would believe them. His voice cool and measured as he peered into the distance.
Suddenly, Estelle’s overpowering perfume made him want to gag.
He turned off the television.
“Aw, Dad, the game’s not finished.”
“I appreciate your concern, Estelle, I really do. But I will not be reverting to old, outdated practices and nor will I be selling off my land.” Daniel’s stomach constricted, hoping he wouldn’t be eating these words. “I will sort it.”
Estelle’s large red-lipped smile beamed back at him, as if harsh words had not been exchanged. “Of course, you will Daniel. But I do know lots of people—politicians and people of influence. I am sure I can get someone to help. Her voice dripped with honey. “All you need is a plan. I’ll put my thinking cap on and we’ll solve this problem, together.”
She gathered her bag and strode to the door.
Chapter Nine
Unexpected Delivery Page 9