Unexpected Delivery

by Leanne Lovegrove

  If she left the bank, she’d leave on her terms.

  In the coffee queue at the Rainforest Café, her thoughts turned to Daniel. She needed to see him before she left.

  Saying thanks for the two hot drinks, she took the short drive to Bunyatree farm.

  Her shiny, blue Audi A3 skidded to a halt on Daniel’s driveway and gravel scattered in all directions.

  Grasping the coffees and ready to exit, she spotted movement in the fenced yard surrounding the cottage. The strong morning sun glared hot and bright, preventing her from making out anything but outlines. She thought she saw two people exiting the house heading down the quaint path to the wrought iron gate.

  Inching forward in her seat, she watched as Daniel followed Estelle.

  Oh no! From behind he placed his hand on her shoulder, as if to stall her. It worked for she turned and faced him.

  The driveway sat less than fifty metres from them, but behind a large Bunya tree, one of many that spanned the property. Whilst Vivienne would be spotted if they looked in her direction—they wouldn’t miss the navy car-they seemed too engrossed in each other to be bothered with their surrounds.

  Vivienne could define the creases in Daniel’s brow, his hard chin and the slight slouch of those broad shoulders. Estelle stood close to him, leaving little personal space and gazed intently from her shorter position. From this vantage point, it appeared as if she looked up in wonderment at the figure before her. A few times her hand went to rest on Daniel’s forearm, and he didn’t remove it. Once, he rested his own hand on top of hers.

  Vivienne breathed deeply, trying to remain calm. She sipped her own latte and attempted to understand the scene unfolding before her. It looked intimate, but she had to be wrong.

  Daniel and Estelle were having an in-depth conversation. If it was about the fundraising money, why did they stand so close, pay such attention to each other and appear so concerned? Gnawing ridicule festered within Vivienne and mixed in with doubt. He was different, wasn’t he? Daniel didn’t woo all the women he knew. But how could he be interested in Estelle? Plus, he’d said only yesterday that he had not been interested in another woman since his wife died. Except her, a voice whispered.

  These thoughts made sense but the picture unfolding didn’t coincide with them.

  The warm liquid brew almost regurgitated up her throat when Ned entered the garden from the left. The tall, skinny man was upon them before they realised, catching both by surprise. Never one to respect personal space, he stood so close to Estelle she screwed up her face in disagreement. Ned had clearly interrupted their conversation, deliberately so, perhaps?

  Vivienne continued to sip her coffee. She felt like she watched a US serial, like Bold and the Beautiful even though she’d never watched an episode in her life.

  Vivienne could not drag her eyes away from Ned’s wildly gesticulating arms. He threw both arms upwards in what looked like exasperation, then sideways in defeat, before clenching them and holding them at his sides, the effort of keeping still appearing to drain him. The demeanour between the two men could not have been more different. Expressive Ned was making his feelings known, whatever they were and whatever the topic was, whereas Daniel held his head down at his friend’s outbursts and remained composed. Did she detect a shake of his head? At Ned and his behaviour or at the spoken words?

  Estelle didn’t appreciate the interruption, or Ned’s presence it appeared, because her vicious scowl would have scared off Girl Guides selling cookies.

  Ned’s temper frayed quickly and despite Daniel placing a temperate arm on his, he stormed off across the yard, away from the house, almost causing the gate to come off its already perilous hinges as he rushed through.

  Estelle moved closer to Daniel and placed her hand on his forearm. Daniel did shake his head now and spoke earnestly to her, head still low, close to her ear. Whatever it was, it looked serious!

  Vivienne’s heart rate accelerated. She finished her own coffee and started on the second she’d bought for Daniel. Soft droplets of rain hit her windscreen, blurring her view. The sun had dipped low now, almost at the horizon, forgetting it was morning. The car commenced to mist, making it even harder to see. Turning the key an inch, Vivienne opened her automatic window just a touch to let the fresh air demist her car. She rigorously wiped the windscreen and snatched views through the small gaps appearing.

  Was that a smile? Did Daniel smile at Estelle? He turned away down the side of the house, toward the valley below. When he turned back, the grin did not remain. Estelle took the opportunity to move closer, her hips almost touching his now. Abruptly Daniel clasped both of his large, boorish hands onto her sides, keeping her immobile. Estelle held her head turned upwards, her attention captured by Daniel.

  How can he be nice, even civil, to this woman? She’s nothing but a gossiping so-and-so . . .

  After what seemed like minutes, all the time Daniel spoke to her, not deviating his attention despite the rain—wouldn’t the rain ruin her smooth coiffured hair—nor shifting his grip.

  A further gap in the window became free and Vivienne strained to see. Daniel stepped back but Estelle’s arm shot out, preventing him from moving. Yes, there it was. A smile? A nod or an agreement? Daniel’s face illuminated, he leaned forward, bending low to meet her short height and kissed her!

  Vivienne slumped in her seat and didn’t take in that Daniel’s lips had landed on Estelle’s cheek. A quick, perfunctory peck.

  Instead, she struggled to get air into her lungs. Her chest clenched. More mist had entered the car than had left it, and she rubbed furiously once more, trying to gain further vantage. The two were apart now with Daniel walking away, back towards his home with Estelle following like a loyal work dog. Did she traipse after him, or was that Vivienne’s imagination? Did he rush away with his shoulders tight?

  Before allowing herself to be witness to any more of the scene, she revved her car engine, squealed the tyres and drove up the gravel drive with her wheels spinning faster than necessary. She reached the main road in split seconds and paused, checking for traffic and catching her breath.

  She wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand. A hot flush hit her legs. As she looked down, a brown stain had seeped across her linen pants and scolded her thighs.

  Fuck!

  Coffee spilled everywhere and liquid pooled where she sat. Haphazardly, her arms flailed, swiping away the heat, brushing drops onto the floor. She pulled over, aware that she was acting like a child. The correct and mature thing to do would have been to get out of her car and approach Daniel and explain she had to leave, just as she’d planned. Why should Estelle’s presence change this?

  Why? Because Vivienne was looking for an out. Because she knew that whatever she had with Daniel, it couldn’t be what she thought. It never was. Men couldn’t be trusted and she’d foolishly let her guard down. In the deep recesses of her mind, rationality told her that the scene between Daniel and Estelle could be completely innocent, just a conversation between neighbours. But, the woman in her, the damaged, vulnerable side wouldn’t let that be true. The woman who refused to become Henrietta Greene, would never allow herself to be subject to the whims of a man. She’d trusted Daniel and she shouldn’t have and she’d found out just in time. She could call it her lucky escape. Thank you, Mr Whipplegaite.

  If Vivienne turned out to be wrong, it was still better to get out now. Before she could be hurt, before anything serious started. Her life in Brisbane was simple and easy. She didn’t belong here in the country. How could she have entertained the prospect of deviating from her plan? She’d almost risked her job for Daniel, for a man. When did she get so stupid?

  This is what love did, it made you silly and led to decisions you regretted.

  Her hands hammered the steering wheel. Tears pooled and threatened to spill over. Snot escaped and wore a trail down her nose, toward her mouth.

  Fuck men. Fuck Daniel. Fuck Rosebrooke and McGuires Metropolitan Bank.


  Fuck them all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In the old bank cottage, Zachary Gardiner sat slouched over the desk in the study. His face scrunched in concentration as he crunched numbers on the endless sheets before him. He focused so much that he didn’t notice the loud thumping, rather it echoed in his head and seemed distant and far away. Zac Gardiner hadn’t stopped to check the time, nor to do anything else in the hours that had passed that morning. Due to his attention being locked in the columns he just read, the thoughts in his head were jumbled and he muttered to himself as he strode for the door.

  So much to do, and so much money owed—how had that useless woman been allowed loose up here? Stupid. If he’d been manager, this would never have happened.

  The banging increased, louder and more incessant before he could reach the door. When he glanced out the window toward the front garden, Zac saw a man pacing between the bushes. He strode one way past the bay window and back, disappearing for seconds, then returning into vision. Zac did look at his watch now wondering whether he had forgotten an appointment; unlikely, because he never forgot anything.

  Reassured by the time, Zac knew his appointment was at two o’clock. At 1.10pm, he didn’t expect anyone to be at the door.

  In the event his visitor required a loan, or some other important bank business, he would open the door. Zac straightened his lapels on the dress shirt he wore, ready to perform to his best.

  Images of Mr Watson eating out of his hand and bowing to his brilliance, entered his head as he opened the door.

  “Hello?” he said pleasantly to the man who stood before the door, fist raised, ready to pound again.

  “I’m here. How can I help?”

  “Oh, hello, could I see Vivienne please?”

  “There’s no Vivienne here. Can I help you?”

  “Oh, no, there must be some mistake. Vivienne gave me this as her address. I’m sure I wrote it down correctly?”

  The mature man fumbled in his pockets pulling out small crumpled pieces of paper, only to disregard them. He wore his jeans like they did in the country, high waisted and with dirty patches at the knees and sturdy leather boots. When he couldn’t locate what he searched for, he stood back perplexed.

  “Look, I don’t want to cause any trouble, but I have a delivery for her. I’m from The Timber Shack and she ordered a chest of drawers. She’s expecting it.”

  “And I said, that if she was here, you could see her, but she isn’t.”

  “Tall, wild red and wavy hair . . .”

  Realisation dawned on Zac Gardiner. “Ah, her! No, she’s not here anymore.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know and nor do I care.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Zachary Gardiner sighed. He had work to do.

  “Do you wish to see the bank?”

  The man laughed. “No, I wish to make a delivery to Vivienne. Can you please tell me her new address?”

  “I don’t know where she is,” Zac shouted now. If this wasn’t a potential bank customer, he had better things to be doing. “I presume she’s in Brisbane, but I don’t know where or how or why . . . oh, no, that’s not right exactly. She’s returned to work in Brisbane, that’s right.”

  “Okay. Well, if she contacts can you please tell her I’ve called around to make her delivery and can you give her this.” The man held out a business card.

  Zac took it.

  “Do you have any banking needs I can assist you with today? A personal loan, overdraft, platinum credit card?”

  Shrinking backwards step by step, the tall figure edged toward the hedges and footpath of the street.

  The man didn’t respond to Zac’s requests and kept moving, appearing eager to get away now he’d established he couldn’t deliver what he needed to.

  As Zac turned back indoors, he threw the business card into the bin without even glancing at it.

  ***

  The door swung open with greater force than expected and a short, impeccably-dressed man stood before Daniel.

  The short man barked, “Yes?”

  Caught by surprise, Daniel stepped backwards, almost toppling into the potted camellias that remained in full bloom illuminating the front garden of the cottage in colour.

  Righting his balance, Daniel did a double-take ensuring he’d arrived at the correct address.

  “Who are you?”

  “What is it with the people in this town! Does everyone answer their doors to questions of such idiocy?” the man screeched.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You have knocked at the door to the cottage attached to McGuires Metropolitan Bank. Do you require banking assistance?”

  Daniel listened as the man explained in a curt tone and clipped words—that could be considered rude—about the bank’s services and the special offer of today only being a reduced interest rate locked in for three years on a fixed rate on a personal loan if it was signed, sealed and delivered today.

  Speechless, Daniel stood mute.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  Sighing audibly with no effort to hide his frustration, he said “Do you want to sign up for a personal loan today at the specially reduced interest rate?”

  “No, thank you, I’m here to see Vivienne.”

  At this the man stood on tip-toe and yelped, his face contorted with rage. “She’s not here!”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know!”

  With one hand full of red roses and a box of chocolates in the other, Daniel, literally didn’t know what to do.

  He had to be joking. Vivienne hadn’t told him she was leaving.

  “You can’t mean, she’s left. Is she out?”

  The little man’s eyes squinted in menace, his voice lowered, words calculated and chilling, he said, “My name is Zachary Gardiner, Operations Manager at McGuires Metropolitan Bank. I have replaced Ms Greene and she is no longer here. I believe, but it is to be confirmed, that she has returned to Brisbane. But I am certain that she has resumed her usual role in our head office. Now, Mr . . .?”

  Daniel offered his hand, but realised it held a carton of Cadbury’s Favourites and instead gave his name. “Daniel, Daniel Beckett. Please to meet you.”

  “Mr Daniel, Daniel Beckett, I am not pleased to meet you. What sort of operation was Ms Greene running here? Since my arrival, I’ve had an endless stream of men knocking at this very door asking to see her. That’s very strange, isn’t it? And today, you come bearing gifts. I don’t want to know what went on here, but I can assure you, that now, as of yesterday, the only business being conducted on these premises are of the commercial variety. So, unless you require banking support or preferably, a loan, then I cannot be of any further assistance to you today,” and with that Zac Gardiner slammed the door on any further conversation.

  Embarrassment clung to him like a blanket. Daniel couldn’t bear to glance around him just in case someone witnessed the exchange. He threw the roses into the garden where they lay slain on the overgrown grass, a flash of colour contrasting with the bright, green lawn. Throwing down the ridiculously large accompaniment of chocolates next to the flowers, Daniel deliberately veered off the path to stomp on them with both feet as he departed, huffing as he did so.

  Keeping his head down, he took big strides toward the truck. Hidden away inside, he turned the ignition on and drove away, not toward his place, but another road, a secluded one, where no one could see him.

  Endless stream of male visitors?

  What was he talking about?

  Why was he there?

  Where had she gone?

  Why hadn’t she told him?

  Thoughts crowded his head, all banging for air play, demanding his attention. The crush of the possible answers, plus the ache in his chest, caused him to feel like he couldn’t breathe.

  Parking in a leeway on the verge of the road that bridged the mountain range, Daniel alighted from the vehicle and gulped
in the fresh air and drank in the majestic valley spilling out below. Its familiarity, its usualness and the tranquillity all helped to calm him.

  Kicking his foot against the tyre—no ferocity in it—Daniel slunk back against the cab.

  Hollowness had clung to him after Sarah died and nothing could compare to that. But now, a suffocating emptiness engulfed him. As if the world as he knew it—the one he’d recently created—no longer existed.

  Stupid! On so many levels he’d been an idiot. He’d let himself dream, imagined a different life, a future and what’s worse, it had been oh-so-fleeting! He hardly knew this woman. How had she affected him so greatly?

  If he was honest, disappointment cut at him the most. He’d thought a less lonely life might be possible, and he’d let the roots of hope sprout and he had contemplated that a relationship could be formed.

  What was he thinking? Vivienne was a city chick to start with. She stole people’s homes when they didn’t pay their mortgage and dressed all fancy. She wasn’t a farm gal at all. Even though he’d been mightily impressed with her calf delivery skills.

  So what?

  He stomped his foot.

  Disappointment he could deal with. But he feared it was worse than that. Thank God, he hadn’t let the kids meet her; that would have been a disaster.

  His head ached with the touch of her; those soft, inviting lips on his, caressing, her fingers trailing his face, tickling his beard and the desire that had pooled in his groin. They were sensations he hadn’t experienced in years. Now, those long-dead emotions had resurfaced, enlivened in him and now requested nourishment.

  With heavy limbs and his stomach swirling, he thought he might vomit. All his organs commiserated with his heart and had gone out in sympathy with it as it swelled to bursting. Daniel hunched over but nothing happened. Even his body betrayed him.

  It was better to end whatever he had with her before anyone got hurt. Ending it avoided the potential for accidents, risks, or losses.