Unexpected Delivery

by Leanne Lovegrove

  All clear. No pain.

  She wriggled her toes still protected by her shoes and they moved with little effort. Believing all must be intact, except her dignity.

  Her beige cotton pants were unrecognisable, splattered with filth and mired in green patches. They were torn at one knee revealing pink skin underneath. Her bare arms had borne the greatest brunt. She rubbed them over and grimaced as she touched scratches and loose skin that burned.

  “Hey, lady, that was amazing, you’ve rolled down most of the hill!” The children surrounded her like an exhibit at the museum. They laughed and a couple of kids stared in shock. At least Daniel’s children had the good grace to offer her a hand to stand up. But it frightened her to consider moving upwards, fearful she’d go face first and somersault her way to the bottom.

  Ned arrived as a flash of colour to her side, his size overbearing as she crumpled on the ground.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Um, yes I think so. So sorry about this, I must have lost my footing.”

  With no care for her personal space, Ned ran his large hands over her body, starting with her head, his hands roaming over her scalp, tossing her hair this way and that. If it wasn’t tangled before it would be now. Satisfied no contusion was obvious, he glided them over her back and shoulders, moving down her arms.

  “Ouch, that hurts!”

  “What? Where?” But Ned did not wait for a reply but stroked the same spots again.

  “My arms! Your hands are like sandpaper rubbing over my exposed skin.”

  Ned stopped, holding up one arm, then the other. “Yes, you’ve scored a few scratches, skin off, ooh, that’s a nasty one,” he said as he stuck his finger in a bleeding sore on her elbow.

  “Ugh!” Vivienne yanked her arm away.

  Undeterred, he went on to examine her legs. Holding each one up, making Vivienne off balance and fall backwards. More titters arose from the children. The group had arrived slowly after trudging down the slope. They stood mute while Ned took charge. He rolled her ankles ensuring there were no breaks.

  Standing up tall, he declared, “Yes, you are okay, just a few bumps and bruises, bit of skin missing but that will grow back.” Back to business he continued as everyone else was okay. He walked amongst the group, counting heads. The people let him move freely as he weaved between them.

  A voice from the back piped up. “We’re okay, but is she?”

  “She’s fine. That’s a daily hazard out here in the country; we are dealing with real life conditions.”

  Vivienne watched him speak. He kneeled back in front of her and offered her a hand. He winked at her but said to the gathered crowd, “That’s the funniest thing I’ve witnessed in a long time.”

  Observing his face, Vivienne knew he joked so she put up with the jibe and the laughter of the group. The laughter sounded muffled and nervous, like they weren’t quite sure what had really happened. And, perhaps, uncertain about their next step.

  Ned leaned in close to her ear. “You seem to cause calamity wherever you go, Ms Greene. Are you the newest troublemaker to come to town?” His blank face was pensive until the smile he wore stretched from one cheek to the other.

  If he hadn’t been helping her, she’d have kicked him in the shin.

  “Well, um, Ned, you happened to be present at both, um, controversial events. Are you the oldest troublemaker in town?”

  His eyes sparkled with mischief whilst he roared with laughter. Once he’d recovered, he said, “Despite working for the bank, God only knows why you want to do that, I like you.”

  The little blonde angel standing no higher than Vivienne’s waist had retrieved her cap and waved it in front of her. Vivienne took it and placed it back on her head leaving her hair sprawling out at the back.

  Ned wasn’t finished and addressed the group. “But, the good news is that you’ve won our competition to name our newest addition, a calf I think you know intimately,” that smirk again.

  “I think the tour is over,” the blonde child said.

  Vivienne couldn’t control herself, she laughed. At the child’s wisdom, her disheveled appearance and for life, as she knew it in the country.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Gauze swabs, gauze pieces, bandages, sterile or non-sterile, elastic bands...”

  Each step caused torn skin to stretch and fresh blood to ooze from Vivienne’s open wounds. She grimaced. If her ruined clothes were not an adequate reminder of her adventurous country frolic, then her aching arms and legs were a sure clue. Wincing, Vivienne scoured the chemist shelves, sourcing antiseptic creams and gauze and bandages. If she didn’t dress her wounds properly, she’d wear a tattoo of scars.

  “I say, did you hear about Violet Anderson?”

  The nearby conversation reached Vivienne and stopped her dead in her tracks.

  “Mmm, do you think this salve will fix it? This boil has been giving me terrible trouble for an age now and I just need to soothe the itch...”

  “Let me have a look, Mabel.”

  Pause.

  “Yes, yes, I think that will do the trick perfectly, but don’t apply too much. Now, dear, did you hear what I said?”

  The tall shelving prevented Vivienne from observing the persons speaking. Were there two or three people? Women? They sounded mature but she only guessed because they spoke proper English in full sentences. There was no slang, chipped phrases or comical pauses.

  “No, I’m sorry, tell me again, about Violet and George?”

  “Well, you know that they have been forced out of their home by that nasty bank, terrible business it is. They haven’t any money to pay extra on their loan. You know, I heard that they had to pay up front, on the spot, right then, or risk being evicted immediately. Can you believe it? Shocking behaviour. But, I guess, they did the wrong thing . . .fancy not paying your debts. But anyway, who has that sort of money at their disposal? Apparently, they need millions!” Vivienne could imagine the storyteller’s shocked expression.

  “That will serve them for getting all high and mighty and thinking they are better than us. We invited Violet into our lawn bowls group. Remember? She refused, saying she was too busy, working of all things. Can you believe it?” This new voice talked lower, ensuring that no one overheard her gossipy criticisms.

  “I never. But perhaps, Yvonne, she can’t play?”

  “Hush, Mabel, you are being too kind. Even if she couldn’t play, why wouldn’t she want to spend time catching up with us each week. We’d have taught her how it works. We hardly play anyway, spend more time in the club with the old boys, don’t we?”

  Titters and exclamations of agreement reached Vivienne. Wonder why Violet didn’t want to join?

  “Anyway, what’s that got to do with anything? Why are you gossiping?”

  Vivienne stood still listening; she liked this lady Mabel. Vivienne stood on tiptoe and craned her neck to see above the shelves. But bottles of antiseptic and Savlon tubes prevented her view.

  Someone squeezed past her in the narrow pharmacy aisle. If she didn’t move, people would think she’s a crazy lady lurking in the chemist and listening in on conversations. Vivienne refocused on the multitude of items displayed on the shelf. There were so many options but she just needed to dress her injuries. Make a choice, Vivienne!

  “Come closer, ladies.” Vivienne could hear the smile and imagine the mischievous shimmer that would be twinkling in the speaker’s eyes. “So, she and George can’t find the money. We know the old garage has been struggling for years . . .”

  “Mm, yes, terribly sad . . .” That had to be Mabel.

  “Yes, we’ve all known. I told Peter he should have always purchased his fuel there, but did he listen, no, and now look what’s happened, it might . . .” Vivienne guessed this was Yvonne.

  The more forthright woman cut back in. “They’ve had bad debts piling up, but they always had money for those holidays though, didn’t they? Where did they go?”

  “Estelle, they only
went to Western Australia to visit their daughter. She’d had a baby, for heaven’s sake!”

  “No, they travelled over several times, I’m sure of it and they take those coastal breaks . . .”

  “To Caloundra!”

  “Anyway, perhaps it just comes down to bad financial management. But who am I say?”

  Indeed. No malice attached to the words, but instead, innuendo and plain old tittle-tattle. Would it be rife in this small town?

  “Indeed,” Mabel threw in.

  Vivienne agreed. She’d become familiar with their voices now.

  “But, forget all that. Now they are out, forced to leave the garage, going bankrupt last I heard . . .”

  Vivienne balled her fists, hurting the scratches on her palms, and rolled her eyes toward the heavens. It wasn’t funny anymore.

  “To enable them to pay out their millions in debt, they’ve agreed to sell.”

  “That makes sense, doesn’t it, Yvonne?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, yes, of course it makes sense! But, this is the important bit,” the woman became frustrated and paused, “I heard that they are selling to a developer, possibly Marchants!”

  “Oh, I never!”

  “No, it can’t be true!”

  The tight-knit community had one agreed evil, the large supermarket conglomerate that had moved into their haven. Would it always be the adversary? Them against the rest?

  “Excuse me, I just need to get to the chamomile lotion,” said a burly man as he reached past Vivienne to get a bottle filled with pink liquid. “The kids have got a rash,” he explained, his cheeks blushing scarlet.

  “Yes! It’s true, old Harry Campbell told me and he knows everything! They are going to pay out all the money they owe and have cash leftover to buy a unit on the Coast, a penthouse I bet!” Excitement made the voice rise in intonation.

  The women muttered and exclaimed over the announcement. No doubt, shocked to the core.

  Vivienne couldn’t listen any longer. Grabbing at any random gauze wrappings and bundling them into her arms, she walked to the end of the aisle. She peered around to spy on the group. The three of them stood huddled together, heads bowed. No point lowering their voices, the whole chemist could hear. They were all well-dressed, attractive women who obviously just liked a gossip. Jewels adorned their fingers and two of the three wore heels.

  But, she recognised the pure white hair with its trademark scrap of darkness.

  Rolls of gauze started to fall as her arms dropped. Vivienne grappled to catch them, juggling her items like balls.

  That woman seemed to pop up everywhere.

  Desperate to move away, Vivienne stepped back with surprising speed given her injured and battered limbs and smacked into a display containing designer sunglasses. It toppled and swayed. Two or three pairs scattered to the tiled ground clattering as they landed. She turned her back to the women to avoid being seen and attempted to collect the glasses while finally losing grip on the rest of her purchases. Rolls of tape and band-aid strips spun out of reach. A shop assistant rushed to her aid.

  “Here, let me help you with that.” The young girl gathered the dispersed products that had rolled as far as the next aisle. Vivienne gently placed a pair of glasses back onto the stand, ensuring she kept her back to the women. They hadn’t stopped gossiping and remained huddled together despite the ruckus she’d caused.

  She needed to get the hell out of there. As she turned toward the counter she heard Estelle’s one last parting comment. “It’s scandalous, isn’t it? How could they do this to us? To our community, after all the years they’ve lived here. I guess it’s not their problem anymore. But, I’ll still give them a piece of my mind next time I see them . . .”

  And Vivienne was sure that she would.

  ***

  “Well, then, how did it go?”

  “How did what go, Daniel?”

  “You know,” Daniel turned his head, shy, bashful. “You know what I mean, the fundraising?”

  Estelle Winthrop smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t stay mad at me for long. It had been a good idea, hadn’t it?” She hung on Daniel’s next words.

  “I was wrong to be so dismissive, I admit. And I know you were just trying to help.”

  Estelle’s face lit up. Her eyes shone and she squealed like a little girl.

  But even now she made him wait, too wound up in the compliment. Daniel couldn’t stand waiting for her to speak. He clicked his fingers and hummed. Then he shot up and busied himself with cups and teabags and moved to put the kettle on to boil putting some distance between them.

  Estelle did not speak until the steaming mugs were placed onto the worn timber table and both were seated politely across from one another.

  Just get on with it woman, he pleaded silently.

  She took a delicate sip, “Um, that’s good,” she said and returned the cup before rattling around in her oversized, designer handbag and producing a mixed up, haphazard bundle of papers. “You will be pleased to know that it all went splendidly. People were so generous: tourists, those from out of town, locals, everyone.” She stopped sitting back to observe him.

  “Now, I have receipts and paperwork and collections of paper.” Crumpled sheets sitting this way and that landed on the table. A few sheafs lifted in the breeze, others sailed off the table. “I haven’t gone through it, yet, but look, so much. This has to add up doesn’t it, Daniel?” Those crystal blue eyes bored into him whilst her lips remained upturned. She was like a dog waiting for reassurance from its owner.

  Estelle drank more tea, her pinkie finger held aloft as she sipped.

  Daniel picked up a square sheet, looked at it and then another. Various figures jumped out at him. He flicked through the pile quickly.

  “Could this, has this, do you think it’s enough?”

  “It’s really positive, wouldn’t you say? This,” she picked up a couple and let them float back down, “is incredible. Such amazing support from everyone. I think things are going to be fine.”

  And that was that, as far as she was concerned.

  Daniel’s heart soared, but dare he hope? Would things be okay? Could he risk dreaming? Nonetheless, he did. Images of a happy future flittered across his vision; the children growing up on the farm, leaving home, more cows birthing, him getting older, the Bunya trees standing tall.

  The thoughts moved fast.

  Estelle watched him but remained silent. The morning sunshine streamed in and her skin sparkled as she sat in Daniel’s kitchen.

  Draining her tea, she placed the cup back in its saucer, directing Daniel’s attention back to her.

  “Everyone has done this for you, Daniel.” Her words came out soft, kind.

  Daniel gazed at her like he noticed her for the first time.

  “I vow to you, Estelle, that I will pay every cent of this back. I will be forever grateful to the people of this town for bailing me out, but I won’t take it as charity. It’s a loan and even if the individuals don’t want it back, I’ll bequeath it to the town itself, a new theatre, sporting field, whatever, I will not let them down.”

  Unable to control his building excitement, Daniel jumped up, rattled the table and stood leaning upon the chair. In his mind he carried out renovations, built new fences and replaced sheds and dug a new vegie patch.

  Estelle reapplied her blood-red lipstick. Rising from her chair in slow motion unlike the frantic gestures of Daniel, she murmured, her voice low and controlled. “What about me, Daniel, how will you thank me?” She licked those red lips as she held her chin low, glancing upwards at him.

  Blind with the news, he didn’t notice her coquettish behaviour. His mind still raced.

  “Estelle, I can’t thank you enough. You were right. I wasn’t interested in what you suggested, but in your usual style, you didn’t take no for an answer and went ahead and did it anyway,” he babbled. A flutter of guilt ran through him then, shame burning in his chest. He’d flatly refused her idea, criticis
ed it and tore down every poster he came across, but now, faced with this lifesaver, he couldn’t refuse it. In fact, was happy to accept it. His options were limited, that’s why. He needed this money otherwise failure seemed inevitable. And that couldn’t happen. But could he live with himself?

  The shame burned stronger, turning quickly into embarrassment. He’d been prepared to take the lifeline so easily. He’d never accepted handouts before. He’d always fought his own battles. Could he do it? Was it too late now that the town had contributed, had fought with him, alongside him, would it slight them and their kindness to rebuke it at this juncture? Now, he felt the bile rise, making him nauseous. He didn’t know anymore and confusion washed over him.

  With his thoughts taking him miles away, Daniel came back to reality with fingertips strumming along his left shoulder, tickling him through his flimsy cotton shirt. It zapped him like an electric shock and he turned toward Estelle.

  Maybe Estelle wasn’t as nasty and self-centred as he thought. She’d helped him, hadn’t she? Perhaps he simply misunderstood her?

  Stepping back to regain his personal space, Daniel placed his hand on her forearm. The pressure firm enough to make her look in surprise, her features extending and her eyebrows raised. Her eyes didn’t twinkle now, but bore into him.

  “Thank you, Estelle. For everything you have done. I can never show you how grateful I am.” The change in her expression told him she thought he could. “You’ve been a wonderful support since Sarah died. All those meals.” He rubbed his tummy and laughed trying to dissipate the building tension. “You are a great neighbour and friend.”

  Estelle moved away as if his touch burned her. She fiddled with her bag and touched the pearls at the nape of her neck.

  “I had better get going. I have to make cakes for the CWA meeting tomorrow. I’m on duty. It’s my turn. I cannot disappoint those ladies, they so love my Hummingbird especially.” She moved away, but her perfume scent lingered. It suffocated him and made him gag.