Magpie's Bend

by Maya Linnell

  She tore her eyes away from his, not wanting to see the sympathy that would break her resolve. The only thing more unbearable than letting Toby get close again would be watching him walk away. She looked up at him, wishing he could take a step closer so their lips were touching and she wouldn’t have to make the decision.

  But as much as she willed him, as much as she wanted to explain, or tell him that she cared for him so much it scared her to death, the words wouldn’t form on her tongue, and her feet stayed planted to the old linoleum floor.

  The gentleness in his voice was almost her undoing.

  ‘I wish I could go back in time and catch Samuel Kingsley in a dark alley and teach him a lesson he’d never forget. I wish I could’ve rescued you, Lara.’

  He reached for her hand, but instead she wrapped her arms around her chest.

  ‘I’m not a hopeless princess sitting in a tower, waiting for a prince to rescue me, Toby. I should’ve been smart enough to rescue myself.’

  Toby winced.

  ‘Good blokes are out there,’ he said quietly. ‘Look at Tim. Look at Rob. Pete. Your dad. Sam’s the odd one out, not you. Can’t you see that?’ His gaze was imploring, as if the choice should be obvious. She started to wring her hands, wishing she could believe him. ‘I’m falling in love with you, Lara.’

  The word brought the memories flooding back. There was no way he could know how much she despised the L-word.

  ‘No.’ Lara laid a finger over his lips and swallowed hard. ‘Sam used the word “love” as a weapon,’ she explained. ‘And you’re nothing like him, I know that now, but …’

  Lara thought of young Brody, now thriving in the upstairs apartment. He’d thought he owed it to his dad to stay, but even at age seventeen he’d been braver than her and chosen his own path. She thought of the man standing before her, studying his odd socks. He’d thrown aside every scrap of dignity he had and serenaded her in the main street, for God’s sake.

  What more do you want, Lara?

  When she looked up, Toby’s eyes were on hers. He gently reached out and cupped her cheek, and she knew in that moment, that everything was going to be okay. Tears prickled her nose, her eyes grew slippery and all of a sudden her vision was blurring. All the years of holding it in, the trauma, the bravado, the fear of losing Evie, the fight to save their shop, welled up inside.

  ‘I’m pretty well acquainted with a thesaurus,’ he said, his voice filled with tenderness. Lara closed her eyes a moment, finding it hard to imagine that after everything, he was still interested.

  ‘Well, I guess that’s lucky for both of us, Toby Paxton,’ she said, leaning in until her lips pressed against his.

  A roar came from outside the shop, and together they turned to the raucous applause of the Bridgefield crowd.

  Epilogue

  Lara stared at the tools she’d laid out in the back of the Subaru.

  Drill—check.

  Spanner, shovel and hardware—check.

  Supper for two—check.

  She had everything necessary for the job, but she needed to get a wriggle on if she was going to pull off the surprise before Toby got home from his first shift as manager of the Bridgefield General Store. Basil’s tail thumped on the ground, each repetition raising little puffs of dust, and his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, waiting for her command.

  ‘Come on, Baz,’ she said, giving a quick whistle. Basil leaped into the boot and turned a couple of times before settling down on her old winter jacket.

  She added her wide-brimmed hat, shut the boot, then checked the trailer’s safety chain.

  Yep, that’ll do it. That load of gravel isn’t going anywhere.

  The smell of warm biscuits filled the car, and she drove slowly up her driveway, along the road fifty metres and then down Toby’s driveway. Basil stayed in the boot, content to watch as she upended shovel after shovel of gravel into the ruts, inching the car and trailer forward every ten minutes or so, until the deep corrugations were barely visible.

  ‘One job down,’ she said, wincing as she swung the shovel into the empty trailer. It had been a long time since she’d emptied a trailer-load of gravel by herself, but even longer since she’d replaced a gate.

  Basil jumped out of the car, giving her a slobbery lick of encouragement, before trotting off to inspect Toby’s brimming flower beds.

  Lara pulled the old gate off its hinges and marked the fence for the new hardware. She had a sheen of sweat, a few splinters from the treated pine post and aching shoulders, but before long a new bottom bracket was fixed into place. She looked at the twelve-foot gate lying on the ground.

  Just got to lift it back on, fix the new hinge and—whammo—job done.

  Basil loped back over, his tail going ten to the dozen. Lara looked up to see a bicycle at the top of the driveway.

  She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and then went to the gate. She could still get it done before he arrived. She man-handled the gate upright and almost had it in place when Toby’s voice carried down the driveway, along with the sound of crunching gravel.

  ‘Hey, wait a minute. Let me give you a hand.’

  Lara shook her head, trying to line up the far corner of the gate onto the blocks she’d brought with her.

  ‘I can do it myself,’ she said.

  ‘I know you can, but you don’t have to. Tell me what to do, I’m happy to help,’ he said.

  Lara turned, smiling at the sight of him hanging onto one end of the gate, still wearing his bicycle helmet, awaiting her instructions. He hadn’t been lying about not knowing how to swing a gate.

  She got him to kick away the blocks she’d sat on the ground and lift the gate until it was the right height.

  ‘Hold it there,’ she said, grabbing the coach screws from the back of her car. She screwed the hardware on and walked back to Toby. ‘Give it a go,’ she said, watching his amazement as he pushed the gate and it swung freely. Basil walked over and perched himself beside Toby’s feet.

  ‘To what do I owe this honour? Mighty neighbourly,’ he said, leaning down to pat the dog.

  Lara stared at her work boots, and then smiled as she realised she was wearing one red-striped sock and one white ankle sock. She took a deep breath before looking up and meeting his gaze.

  ‘I’m not very good at mending fences, but I’ll have a crack at fixing your gate,’ she said.

  His calm expression dissolved into laughter. Basil gave a woof.

  ‘That’s got to be the cheesiest pick-up line I’ve ever heard.’

  Heat flamed her cheeks, but she smiled.

  ‘It was pretty bad, wasn’t it?’

  She gathered up her tools, returned them to the back of the car, and followed him inside with the platter she’d prepared. ‘Brought you some sweet treats too.’

  His eyes lit up as he took in the perfectly round yo-yos with pink filling, the coconut-covered lamingtons and the jam drops filled with Diana’s latest batch of blackberry jam.

  She spread a picnic rug out on the back lawn, admiring the garden beds Toby had filled with pretty, scented flowers. In the distance, she could just see the new timber frames of McCluskey’s replacement shearing shed. He could never replicate the intricate stonework of the previous building, but with a few neighbourhood working bees to help clear the site, and a few yet to come, he had started the process of building a new shed. With a bit of luck it would be serviceable in time for the next round of shearing.

  Toby headed inside and returned, minus the bike helmet, with a tray of mugs and a teapot that looked like it was straight out of Antiques Roadshow.

  ‘Is that Princess Di?’

  ‘Sure is, and look at young Charlie. Very dashing.’

  Toby tucked into the jam drops as she shared her day at the Bush Nursing Centre and lay back on the rug while he filled her in on his day at the shop.

  ‘And I’ve just had another wedding booking if you fancy a weekend away at Daylesford,’ he said.

 
Basil’s tail thumped and she smiled as Vegemite and his magpie mate flew over to join them.

  ‘I’m pretty sure I can handle that,’ she said, leaning in until her lips pressed against his. He tasted of sweet jam, and of all the good things she’d thought she never deserved. He tasted like the perfect tomorrow.

  Acknowledgements

  I love reading acknowledgements pages and it gives me great pleasure to again be writing them, this time for Magpie’s Bend, my third novel.

  A huge thank you to you—my readers—whether you’ve bought, borrowed, shared, been gifted or listened to this story or joined my newsletter community. Your kind words, enthusiasm for the McIntyre family and encouragement keep me returning to the keyboard each day. I cherish every single message, review and social-media shout-out. If you could teleport to our rural property in western Victoria, you’d know I do a little happy dance and read them all out loud to my husband/children/cat/calf/lamb/dog (whoever is closest). I also love seeing your photos of my books with your pets, in your hands, your homes and on your holidays, so please keep them coming. Word-of-mouth recommendations are the best present you can give an author, so please don’t be shy about spreading the word.

  To all the booksellers, librarians, bloggers, reviewers, journalists and podcasters—mwah! Booklovers like you keep our industry afloat, and on behalf of all Aussie authors, please know we are so grateful for your support and your superpower in getting our novels into the hands of the right readers, especially during the pandemic.

  Sending big love to the fabulous team at Allen & Unwin, particularly my publisher Annette Barlow, editors Samantha and Claire and proofreader Megan, publicity and marketing gurus Isabelle, Laura, Yvette, Rebecca, Fleur and Matt, cover designer Nada, and all-round treasure, Jenn. There’s a reason you guys have won Publisher of the Year fourteen times. Teamwork makes the dream work and I value your behind-the-scenes efforts to make my books shine.

  There were plenty of helpers who assisted in the research stage. Thanks to Paula and Maddy Jasper for the whys and hows of keeping our local post office afloat, Sue Elms for outlining the effort to save St Brigid’s Church at Crossley, Sam Carter for explaining real-estate processes, Kylie Holland for guidance on committee legalities, Bonnie Taylor for sharing her snake-bitten kelpie story last summer, Sally Watson for lending me her beautifully embossed (and very treasured) letters from the royal palace, Detective Senior Constable Jarrod Anderson and Nicholas from Australia Post for helping with a mail-fraud plot line that was unfortunately cut in the editing process.

  Thanks to Amy Smoothy and Ann Miller for the veterinary insights and Kate Griffith for reading my medical scenes over a glass of rosé and a cheese platter. I think that might just be my new favourite method of fact-checking! Also, cheers to my Winter Solstice Fun Run crew for many happy miles and making fun-run planning so enjoyable that I had to include one in Magpie’s Bend.

  Many sets of eyes went over the manuscript before it hit the printing press, and I’m indebted to Julie Linnell, Pamela Linnell, Kaneana May, Karen Nancarrow, Lindy and Amber Sloan and my husband Jason for entering the not-quite-formed world of the McIntyre family, helping me with plot holes, and boosting my writerly spirits in the second and third draft stage. Again, thanks must go to my lovely neighbours, with special mentions for Karena, who dropped off the most delicious cream puffs when I was in the depths of structural edits, and Tony who ran his eagle eye over it too. Any errors are most certainly mine. Kudos to the legends at Griffin Press, SA, for filming Bottlebrush Creek as it came off the printing press. Possibly the coolest eight minutes of factory footage I’ve ever seen, head to www.mayalinnell.com/news to watch it yourself.

  I also dedicate Lara’s character to all the strong women who put up and shut up for too long. Ideas for this story percolated while I worked in communications for a healthcare agency, and domestic violence was one of the issues we dealt with. This flowed into my writing, along with stories from friends—beautiful, strong women—who were mentally and physically hurt by men they trusted. Sending big love your way, ladies.

  Thanks to my writing buddies, especially the Scribblers Ink writing group, for advice and encouragement and friendship. Writing is a solo occupation, but I treasure our Friday morning zoom sessions.

  To my close friends and family, your belief in me and my novels is amazing, and much appreciated. We didn’t get to celebrate in person last year, but I’m sure we’ll make up for it with Magpie’s Bend. Thanks for cheering me on, sneaking my books into conversations with your extended networks and collecting little snippets that might come in handy for future manuscripts.

  Jase—for a bloke who prefers newspapers over novels, you do a mighty fine job of braving my manuscripts, helping brainstorm plot issues, sneaking sweet post-it notes into your proofreading feedback and talking about these characters and this completely fictional world as if it were real to you too. Thanks, Jase. I couldn’t do this whole author gig without your support.

  Charles, Amelia and Elizabeth—your big day is finally here! You’ve been itching for a dedication and you sure deserve this one. Thank you for getting excited about book mail, sales milestones, new contracts, lovely reviews and book tours, for keeping quiet downstairs during (most of) my Zoom events and for being pretty good office mates during the Covid lockdown. Much of this novel was written and edited in the depths of the pandemic, with its online learning and lockdown challenges, unlike the last two books, which were mostly penned during school hours. This one’s for you!

  Happy reading, folks! I hope you enjoy reading Lara’s story as much as I loved writing it.

  Love,

  Maya

  PS: If you’d like a little more writing, baking and green-thumb antics in your life, come find me on Instagram or Facebook @maya.linnell.writes or sign up for my monthly newsletter at www.mayalinnell.com