With her hands full of shopping bags, mail and an empty coffee cup, Vivienne pushed the door of the cottage shut with her foot. Returning and being back in the cocoon of this place, led to a range of emotions: relief, sorrow and just the plain old doldrums.
The cottage welcomed her back with eerie silence. Not a sound could be heard—not a bird chirping in the oak trees outside, nor the usual hum of the fridge or white noise of T.V or stereo. It wasn’t the silence that unnerved her, it’s what the cottage had come to represent—the job she had to do here, the people she’d met, the lives she’d affected. Destroyed was too strong a word, she couldn’t bring herself to utter it.
Despite all that, her mind had cleared. Spending time with Rebecca and the children had helped her return to a semblance of a normal, steady life. Such a shame that this beautiful country retreat held negative ramifications for her. It could have been so different.
Instead of heading straight back to Rosebrooke, she’d spent three nights back in Brisbane. It had been a cheeky move but it had helped to further restore her professional and emotional status quo. Sneaking into her Brisbane office late one night, Vivienne had retrieved piles of her work—contracts and mortgages to be checked or drafted—and immediate calm had overtaken her. That is even though all the work had sat there waiting for her attention while she’d been absent. Lucky, she liked to work hard.
Normal. Usual. Easy.
However, the past had been a steady companion. It had followed her, clung to her like a blanket, its tight grip on her shoulders holding her back. She tried to shake those ghosts off. She’d piled those multi-coloured manila folders high until they surrounded her and burrowed deep into their contents. Then the days had passed on her couch with Ginger curled in her lap. Working remotely had been a gift—no one knew where you were.
That small hiatus had needed to end. She still had a job to do in Rosebrooke and it waited for her. Like those ghosts, it trailed her around and stayed present in her mind. Never one to skivvy off she had to head back to Rosebrooke and face the music.
“Damn it!” The trill of the phone caused her to prematurely drop the packages she held. Locating her mobile phone and a free finger to answer, she put it to her ear and watched the cardboard coffee cup roll under the table.
“Hello? Bec! What’s up?”
Her sister’s intuition knew just the right time to contact.
Home. The word popped into her mind. Home.
Vivienne flopped into the comfy armchair, its familiarity enveloping her like a warm embrace.
After her conversation with Bec, she prepared for the days ahead.
In readiness, she applied a set of armour. She had one more default notice to deliver and the others to follow up on, but not yet. Each had thirty days to make good on their mortgage payments; she wouldn’t pre-empt anything. Miracles happened, right?
##
For three days, rain pummelled the small town. Denying that any other reason held her captive indoors, Vivienne blamed the weather. It became impossible to venture out when the streets streamed with water. Gutters overflowed and the gusting wind proved powerful enough to shove umbrellas inside out.
No, best to pay attention to her drafting work.
Delving deep into the reams of paper, she drafted contracts: personal, house and credit card applications, as well as considering numerous mortgages and recommending some alternative clauses.
Food usually caused her to travel outdoors, and come Thursday, she needed provisions. The coffee pod machine had worked overtime, but a real coffee and fresh bread had become compulsory.
She ventured to the co-op.
As if the gods granted her permission to leave the house, the rain cleared. A rainbow graced the sky and translucent rays of sun streamed through the clouds making them appear lucid. The tops of the mountain ranges were not yet visible, with mist peppering the peaks.
Perhaps most people had been cooped up inside, as the vibe on the main street buzzed. Those out walking smiled, talked animatedly and had a spring in their step as raincoats remained hidden in bags. The outdoor tables at the coffee houses were full and people milled in groups hesitant to go back to the gloom of interiors.
Forcing her eyes straight ahead, Vivienne tried hard not to look around; it took all her effort not to think of him. It had been easy without constant reminders, but back in town, memories of Daniel lingered everywhere.
As she walked past the pub, his beard bristled against her skin as his warm lips brushed her cheek. She imagined the of smell his aftershave as he placed the milk cartons into the fridge at the Rainforest Café; the flare of his nostrils as he yelled at her or the dark ink pools of his gaze as he rounded up cows to avoid slamming into her. Those thoughts didn’t cause the lump that sat in her chest. That lump was the knowledge that he would not want to talk to her if they ran into each other. He might even pretend he hadn’t seen her.
It hurt. A lot.
However, the reality was that her deed had been dastardly. A low blow.
Unforgiveable?
Vivienne quickened her pace as activity dulled the memories. She recited her shopping list out loud.
A rainbow of colour greeted her at the co-op as she moved through the fruit and vegetable section. An array of quality produce sat on display in the neat and tidy aisles. It would have easily rivalled the most pretentious and expensive deli or fruit shop in Teneriffe or surrounding suburbs in Brisbane, particularly James Street in Fortitude Valley where the fashionable people liked to shop.
Vivienne filled her basket. She had enough food to entertain the whole town. Whilst not a health freak, she did adhere to the modern philosophy of raw food, or paleo or natural products, whatever the term for it, fresh was best. She chose locally made dips, breads, nuts and without drawing attention to herself, Bunyatree milk and cheeses.
What? She defended herself. She liked the food, all right? Perhaps she would invite Bec and the kids out for a meal.
With her environmental hessian bags in each hand heavy with fresh produce, and with her head low managing their weight, she exited the co-op. Images of the fresh salad she’d make for lunch bounced around in her head, and her taste buds watered.
With her head down, Vivienne ran into a solid mass as she left through the narrow sliding glass doors. She reeled on her heels and the heavy bags swayed. One of them connected with a lanky leg. Stepping unevenly to catch her balance, Vivienne stood in a puddle still pooling from the rain.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was walking...”
“Ms Greene.”
Vivienne looked up to a long, angulated face with a teethy smile and circle glasses. Her heart sank and her palms went clammy making the bags slip in her hands.
“Here, let me take those for you,” said the man accompanying Lucy Lawrence. As he bent to collect her bags, a long fringe fell into his eyes, covering his face. Upon rising, he flicked it out of his line of sight revealing bright green eyes, much lighter than her hazel ones.
“Dr Lawrence, it’s a real pleasure to meet you.” Vivienne reached out to greet him but as he now grasped her shopping it was impossible to shake hands. They giggled, and for Vivienne it released a layer of tension.
“We cannot thank you enough.”
“What?” she spluttered. “You’re thanking me? Why?”
Vivienne looked between them, both masking faces of joy and grinning like children trying to keep a secret. Before either could answer, Isabella loped along like an adorable Labrador puppy, clutching at Vivienne and almost toppling her. Isabella’s foot just missed the same pool of water.
“Isabella, please be more careful. You could have knocked over Ms Greene.” Her father admonished her to no effect as the small girl continued to clutch on for dear life as the wheels on her shoes shot out from under her.
He reached out to catch her, but once stable, encouraged her on her way. Vivienne saw Lucius, also manoeuvring his way down the path and holding onto the railing for
safe measure. His sister sped past him, her laughter ringing in the air. Vivienne watched the two children and thought of her niece and nephews. They would love those skates. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Lucy and Martin. They, too, watched their children, their faces creased in laughter.
“Those fancy roller shoes are going to cause an accident,” he said.
“Lucky we have a doctor in the house,” Lucy joked.
Vivienne couldn’t wait any longer. “What are you thanking me for?”
Their attention returned to her. “Well.” Lucy now clasped her hands to her chest. “After your visit we had to break the news to our parents. We dreaded telling them how we had failed, how our tree-change had turned into such a disaster—”
Martin broke in. “But when we spoke to each of our parents, they were devastated for us. They said that they were sorry things hadn’t worked and couldn’t believe that matters had deteriorated and they hadn’t known. It seems that our bad luck—”
“. . .tough times—” Lucy interjected.
“. . .has allowed our parents to reveal their dreams of living in the country and not so far away in the city. It seems that they have been missing us terribly and couldn’t say so and didn’t know what to do and didn’t want to become burdens by moving to Rosebrooke too.”
“You get the idea. Ms Green.”
“Please, call me, Vivienne.”
“Anyway, Vivienne, what they’d like to do is move up here to be near us in their retirement. They’ve—both our parents—have come up with an ideal plan that will benefit all of us.”
“How wonderful,” Vivienne said, still not sure how this involved her. “How does that help with the mortgage?” She was desperate to hear the punch line.
“Together, they’ve agreed to pay out the remainder of our mortgage.” Lucy jumped up and down like a schoolgirl. “On the condition they can build homes on our land.” At the last phrase, she squealed and pulled Vivienne into an embrace so tight she struggled to breathe.
“Oh, my goodness.” Vivienne welled up, tears bursting over. Never had her job been so emotional. She hugged Lucy Lawrence back and Martin too, as if the news had saved her life. She thought, in fact, it probably had saved her skin and embarrassment, and not least of all, avoided her forcing a loving family from their home and onto the streets.
“This means I might be able to go back to teaching because both our mums will help out and so everything will be much easier. If you hadn’t delivered that notice and made us realise how foolish and pigheaded we’d been, we wouldn’t have spoken with our families and revealed our troubles, but would have struggled on. Then we would have lost our house and ended up broke. So, we can’t thank you enough for giving us a good shake-up and forcing us to act. The kids are now secure, their home is ours to keep, we can make a life here and it’s all because of you.”
Both of them beamed at her, their eyes glistening with moisture. Her tummy did flips of joy and a short prayer, that, things, on this occasion had worked out.
The scorching sun warmed her skin as they stood confirming the fine details of how to finalise the matter. Vivienne advised where to send cheques, to whom and when. Further embraces were exchanged before cheery goodbyes.
She skipped home, her wet shoe squelching all the way.
##
Vivienne ran up the long rise where the sweeping valley stretched out below and to her right. A solitary flyer carried away in the breeze collected against her leg and moulded to her contours.
The pre-dusk sky was awash with soft shades of pinks and yellows on the horizon, and her breath hitched at its beauty. The picture looked like one of those that adorned the postcards in the various gift shops in town.
The paper flapped on her leg and she stalled, just as the rhythm had set in. She’d have to pick up speed again to recapture it. Not being a natural runner, rhythm and pace were important, to her anyway. Never stop had been a previous boyfriend’s mantra and after all these years it had stuck. While running, she did not stop, no matter how tired, how exhausted, you always finished to the end, even if it meant you had a soft-shoe shuffle happening.
Annoyed, she did pause, having no choice with a bright green A4 square flapping on her shin. As she retrieved it, she looked around for the nearest rubbish bin, not at all interested in whatever the content might be. Unable to locate one she commenced to scrunch it into a ball when orange words caught her attention.
FUNDRAISING WEEK
ALL MONIES RAISED GO BACK INTO THE LOCAL COMMUNITY
SAVE OUR PROPERTIES
Market stalls
Farm tours
Trivia night
The details continued with names and phone numbers not familiar to her. Confronted, and not sure what to think, Vivienne flattened out the paper and placed it inside her top to think about later. Right now, the only thing she wanted to do was keep going. Her body had started to chill and she needed to get moving.
Metres along the top road, in the opposite direction from where she’d run last time—that is, away from Daniel’s farm—she encountered pole after corner seat, park bench and noticeboard of endless green flyers identical to the one she’d found. Someone had spent a lot of time distributing them all over town. The flyers were impossible to miss.
With each step she processed what the advert meant. Her strides became longer and faster. Could it be possible that everything might be all right? That farms could be saved with local fundraising efforts? Dare she hope?
Having visualised the events, read the posters, recognised that the heart of the people in this town was to save its own, Vivienne ran harder to clear her mind of the people she’d hurt.
She reached her running goal. Triumphant glory overcame her as she leaned against the brick fence of the cottage after having sprinted hard for the last five hundred metres. Vivienne inhaled deep breaths and wiped away the sweat droplets forming at her temples and forehead. She spied a vehicle pull in across the road. Daniel had parked at the hardware store located at the top end of the main drag, diagonally across from the old bank.
He exited the cabin of his small ute, pausing to read the green leaflet stuck to the pole in front of him. Watching, Vivienne held her breath. Daniel ripped it down and rolled it into a ball where he threw it inside the open passenger window.
Fearful at being spotted, she jumped quickly behind the high bushes in the front garden. The prickle bush rubbed up against her bare skin, still wet from her exercise. Whilst Daniel would be unable to observe her, she had a clear view of him.
Just the way she wanted it.
He wore his work clothes. Today it was black jeans with a cotton, long-sleeved shirt in pale blue. It hung loose, not tucked in. His trademark boots were on his feet but his hair remained unsecured without a hat. It hung almost to his shoulders, those dark salt and pepper curls bouncing as he moved.
As he lifted bales of hay from the tray to the path, his upper arm muscles rippled at the line where he folded his sleeves. The base of his tattoo peeked out, barely discernable unless you knew it belonged on his skin.
Vivienne held her breath, captivated by the sight of him. She hadn’t clapped eyes on him for days and her thirst had become unquenchable; she couldn’t drink enough of him in. His broad shoulders carried loads in and out of the store but she focused on his taut bottom hugging his jeans. A longing heightened deep down low, tingling her insides until it became full blown lust. The desire caught her unawares with its strength and power. His long, lean arms reached across boxes and she wondered what they would be like around her, embracing her, safe in their clutch. She still despised him for how he’d acted in her kitchen, like an uncontrolled animal. But despite this a fire lit inside her that she feared could not be extinguished. Quite rightly, she should spit in his face and step on his toes for talking to her the way he did, the nerve of him! But instead, he fuelled her with a lust that desired to be met.
Her body tingled.
Danger.
Coul
d she be wrong about him?
Her limbs went loose and gooey, and Vivienne had to grip the bush to hold herself upright. Ridiculous thoughts anyway, he’d not look twice at her now given what she’d done. A man exited the store and in an act of farewell, they slapped each other on the back. As Daniel moved to his car, a woman caught up with him, grabbed his arm and forced him to stop. With her stature shorter than his, she had to turn her face upward to address him. She wore a dazzling smile. Her arm remained on his, whilst her eyes captured him in conversation.
Vivienne’s pulse accelerated.
The woman appeared to drone on as Daniel stood stock still. He shaded his eyes from the dying sun and did she detect a small back step? An attempt to move away from this woman’s reach?
Despite the warmer climes, the stout lady wore a tweed skirt and cream silk blouse. Her white hair was pulled tightly back into a bun, but Vivienne saw a ribbon, brooch or similar adorning her scalp or hairline; she couldn’t quite make it out. The woman pulled out the bright green paper and waved it around. Daniel still didn’t respond. Jewels glittered at the woman’s fingers as she attempted to get him to take the paper but taking a definite step back now, he appeared to refuse.
In response to his step back, the lady moved forward.
Just as Daniel opened his cabin door making ready to get in, the woman held onto his arm and appeared to drag him downwards to allow her to kiss his cheek.
Could be innocent.
It didn’t concern her. But that didn’t stop her heart lurching or her stomach dipping. Regardless, a charging bull could not have dragged her away from her secluded spying spot.
Daniel stepped into the ute. He moved out of her line of sight, so Vivienne stood up to get a better view. Suddenly, her feet itched to move. Head above the bushes she could see Daniel sitting in the driver’s seat. Before igniting the car, his head swivelled and turned towards the cottage, directly to where she stood.
Vivienne could have sworn their eyes had connected before she crouched down so fast the pine needles slaughtered her skin. She dared not peek just yet. She kept her head down and gulped in shallow breaths.
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