About Three Authors

by Patti Roberts

  At midnight, Becky kissed each woman on the cheek, thanked them for a wonderful evening, and then bid them all a good night. In her room, she turned the ceiling fan on high, then pulled open the patio doors to let the cool night air fill her room. After a quick shower, she threw on an oversized t-shirt, pulled back the comforter on the bed, and then flopped down in the centre of the mattress. It had been an eventful day, meeting Gary, and then there were the messages from Clive on her phone which had her thoughts racing around and around in her head like a guinea pig on a spinning wheel.

  A moment later, Little Miss stalked out from beneath the bed. She sat there for a moment preening herself, then sprang up onto the mattress and sat down next to Becky.

  “Well, hello, there,” Becky said, patting the cat’s head as it nudged her hand. “Are you here to purr me to sleep again?” she asked, yawning wide, then closing her eyes.

  Chapter 12

  Snakes And Ladders.

  Early the next day, Becky woke to Little Miss batting her nose impatiently with her paw. “Okay, okay. I’m awake. I suppose it’s your breakfast time,” she said, giving the cat an affectionate rub on its head. She cradled the cat in her arms, then walked over to her bedroom door, opened it, and deposited the cat outside, in the hall. Little Miss shot off down the hallway, heading towards the kitchen like a heat-seeking missile, to where her breakfast would be waiting for her.

  BECKY JENSEN’S FACEBOOK STATUS: Another beautiful day in paradise.

  After showering, Becky put on a singlet, denim shorts, and the runners Elise had given her, which fit perfectly. Becky all but skipped down the hall, then the stairs. In the kitchen, Polly was waiting at the breakfast bench for her, a glass of water in each hand. “Sleep well?” Polly asked, handing Becky a glass of water.

  Becky nodded. “Actually, it’s the best sleep I’ve had in a really long time.” In fact, it was the first night she had slept through without waking up crying in the middle of the night since her mother had died. The thought made her feel guilty, as though she had let her mother down by not thinking about her. I haven’t forgotten about you, Mum, she said to herself.

  “I see you’re all ready for our run,” Polly said, finishing her glass of water.

  “I sure am,” Becky said keenly. She put her empty glass on the sink. She did a few forward and backward arm swings, forward and backward leg swings, then walking lunges. To finish off her routine, she touched her toes effortlessly. “I am all fired up and ready when you are.”

  Polly did some backward arm swings. “Well, yes, I can see that. We should go then.” Polly unlocked, then pushed the screen door open to let Becky pass. Little Miss, not one to miss an opportunity of an open door, appeared from nowhere and flew out of the door ahead of Becky.

  Polly shook her head. “Dramatic departure. She’ll be waiting to be let back in again in five minutes’ time. Mallory should be up by then to let her back in. She usually sleeps on the end of Elise’s bed, but for the last few nights, she’s been missing in action. The cat, not Elise,” Polly said, smiling.

  “She’s been sleeping on the end of my bed. Little Miss, not Elise,” Becky replied, smiling back. “I hope that’s okay? I can shoo her away.”

  “That’s fine. If you don’t mind her sleeping on your bed, that is? If you don’t want her in there, just toss her out. She won’t hold it against you. Not for long, anyway.”

  “Not at all. I’m actually enjoying the company.”

  “That’s what we figured,” Polly said.

  They jogged down past the pergola, then farther down toward the jetty. Turning left at the jetty, they began to jog at a steady pace along the water’s edge. The morning sun was scarcely over the horizon. A cloud of mist hovered above the lake’s glassy surface, creating a ghostly manifestation. Morning birds eager to commence the new day chattered noisily from tree branches while others took flight out across the lake. The air was already humid, and Becky could feel beads of perspiration already dotting her forehead. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. She looked across at Polly, who showed no signs of working up a sweat.

  “And to think it is probably snowing in England,” Becky said.

  “Do you miss the Christmas snowfall?” Polly asked.

  “Not yet,” Becky replied, wincing as trickle of sweat ran down between her breasts. “It’s quite difficult to believe that it’s actually Christmas, with all this blistering heat.”

  Twenty minutes later they were standing at old Mrs. Barnet’s front door. Polly knocked. “Joan, it’s just me, Polly,” she called through the screen door. “I’ve brought Becky with me to meet you.”

  A moment later a voice replied, “Come on through to the kitchen, jug’s on.”

  The screen door creaked as Polly pulled it open. “Enter at your own risk,” she whispered.

  Becky looked at her in alarm. “Really? Why?” she whispered back urgently.

  “Snakes,” Polly replied.

  Becky froze on the spot. “Snakes?”

  Polly gave her a gentle push. “Not to worry, most of them are in cages, out back. Most of the time, that is.”

  Becky stood to one side. “After you,” she said, sweeping her hand in front of her.

  “Chicken,” Polly laughed.

  “You bet,” Becky retorted, scanning the walls and the ceilings as she followed Polly down the wide, spotlessly clean, but dark hallway which was lined with numerous bookshelves. The perfect hiding spot for snakes, Becky thought, half expecting bucket loads of snakes to start spewing out from between the various volumes of books.

  “Polly, is that you, darling? Pour yourself a cuppa,” Joan called from somewhere inside the house. “I’ll be right out. I just have to put Ladders away; he got out again.”

  “Ladders?” Becky asked, looking at Polly.

  “Ladders is a three-metre scrub python,” Polly replied. “Snakes and Ladders. Get it?”

  “Got it,” Becky said, cringing at the thought of being in the same proximity as a three-metre snake, and wondering if Ladders had a friend called Snakes. “How many snakes does Joan have? Please say just the one. Are pythons deadly?”

  “Harmless,” Polly said, taking three mugs out of the overhead cupboard. “You leave them alone and they’ll leave you alone. Take a seat. I’m not sure how many she had at last count. They actually belong to her son.”

  Becky looked around the neat, country-inspired kitchen. No sign of any snakes. She looked under the table situated in the middle of the room. Satisfied there were no snakes, she pulled out a chair and sat down on the blue and white chequered cushion. The table was solid timber. In the centre of the table sat an old tin urn overflowing with colourful native flowers. On the windowsills, terracotta pots were abundant with basil, parsley, chives and mint.

  “Coffee or tea?” Polly asked.

  Becky shook her head. “Just water for me, thanks. It’s so bloody hot.” She fanned herself with her hand.

  “Just over there,” Polly said, tilting her head towards the refrigerator. “Grab the milk while you’re there. Door, middle shelf.”

  Becky stood back up and retrieved the milk and a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She handed the milk to Polly, poured herself a glass of water, and then sat back down.

  A screen door opened, then clicked shut. “Eggs,” Joan said a few seconds later, holding up a basket to Polly. She looked at Becky and smiled. “And you must be Becky, our English visitor,” she added, putting the basket down on the table.

  Joan was a short, petite-looking woman with a moon-shaped face. Her hair was light brown and cut short, with some greying at the temples. Not at all the kind of woman Becky imagined carting around three-metre snakes. Kittens perhaps, but not snakes.

  Joan touched the hair at her temple absently. “Leon tells me that he ran into you at the pub the other day.”

  Becky was a little taken aback by the comment. Then she remembered Polly saying that Joan knew everything that went on around these parts. Noth
ing gets past Joan. A new girl in town with an English accent was probably pretty big news. “You know Leon?”

  Joan waved the question away. “Of course, dear. He’s my son. He’s a good looker, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, quite,” Becky replied.

  “And single, with his own home in Malanda. Four big bedrooms and an en-suite,” Joan added, a look in her eye that said, I can’t wait to be a grandmother and fill up all those empty bedrooms. She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. A few moments later, Polly joined them with two mugs of coffee.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Becky said smiling, “but I’m only here for a few days.”

  “You never know. My late husband and I fell in love in just five days. The heart knows what the heart wants,” she said with absolute conviction.

  “Plus, I’ve just got out of a bad relationship, so I’m not really ready to-”

  “A good psychic cleaning will sort you out. Flush out all that negative energy holding you back from finding true love.”

  Becky nodded politely, and then quickly changed the subject. “I have to say, you have a lovely home. I love all the French touches.”

  “The Golden Girls helped me put it all together.

  “The Golden Girls?” Becky asked.

  “Polly, Elise and Mallory. I call them the Golden Girls because they kind of remind me of that old TV show. Do you know the one?”

  “Ahh, I see,” Becky said. “I do know the one. It was a great show. I used to watch it with Mum all the time. She loved it, too.”

  Joan reached across the table and patted Becky’s hand sympathetically. “Elise told me about your loss. I’m so sorry, dear. Losing a parent is such an emotional ordeal. It can really knock you on your arse.”

  Becky forced a smile. “It does, yes.” They sat in silence for a moment. “You were telling me about your house,” Becky finally said, breaking the silence.

  Joan patted Polly’s hand. “Polly here has such a flair for design. I’m always telling her that if she ever got tired of writing books, she could easily go into home decorating. I just loved what they did with that old house, before turning it into a retreat. It was a run-down wreck of a thing. A real eyesore, but now, well, it’s just delightful. A real gem.”

  “We could never have done it without Gary’s help,” Polly added.

  “Very true,” Joan agreed. “That boy of yours is so talented. What he can do with those hands of his is just incredible.”

  Becky felt a warm tingling feeling wash over her at the mention of Gary’s name. She could definitely imagine what he could do with those hands. Her mind drifted away. Gary’s hands on her arms, her hands, her thighs, her legs.

  Joan’s voice snapped Becky out of her daydreams. “Did the girls tell you about the story of the three-metre bush python they found in the pantry one night, who now goes by the name of Ladders?”

  Becky looked from Joan to Polly, her eyes wide. “In the pantry at the retreat?”

  Joan nodded.

  Becky glanced at Polly. “No, they didn’t!”

  Polly waved a hand in the air dismissively. “It was nothing. It was ages ago.” She squirmed in her seat and shot Joan a frosty glare, then turned her attention back to Becky. “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you to think the place was crawling with snakes.”

  “The place was crawling with snakes?”

  Polly shook her head. “Noooo.”

  Joan nodded. “We get quite a few snakes around here. Tell her the story, Polly,” Joan prompted.

  “Very well. Mallory and I were watching TV one night, and we heard things falling off the shelf in the pantry. We just thought Little Miss had jumped up onto the shelves and accidently knocked a few tins down, so we ignored it, and went back to watching the TV. But when larger things, heavier things started smashing on the pantry floor, we started to get suspicious. Loud noises like that should have had Little Miss shooting off for a place to hide. When she didn’t appear, we knew it wasn’t her and that we should go investigate. I walked up to the pantry door, flicked the light on, only to discover this massive snake weaving itself up the shelves. When I turned around to tell Mallory, she’d already shot off down the hall like the Roadrunner. She wasn’t hanging around to find out what it was.”

  “So what happened then? What did you do?” Becky asked.

  “I did the only thing I could do. I walked into the pantry, the bloody snake hovering above me from the top shelf, then backed out, pulling the door shut behind me.”

  Becky shuddered. “I think I would have bolted down the hall with Mallory. Weren’t you scared?”

  “Of course I was. I didn’t know what kind of snake it was, but someone had to close the bloody door to contain it. I didn’t want to wake up that night or any other night with a snake in my bed. I’d have a bloody heart attack.”

  “So how did you eventually get it out?”

  “I called Joan the next day and she arranged for Leon to come and get it in the morning.”

  “I can’t count the number of snakes I’ve had around here,” Joan said. “I think the chickens attract them. Leon loves snakes; he has quite a few.”

  Becky frowned, then stiffened abruptly in her seat. She wasn’t imagining it. Something was definitely curling itself around her ankle. A millisecond later, her face distorted, she leapt out of her seat with a bloodcurdling scream, sending the chair crashing to the ground. She stumbled backward into the kitchen bench, her arms slapping wildly at her legs. “Shit, get it off me. Fuck, fuck!”

  Joan clutched a hand at her throat. “Oh my, goodness gracious. What on earth?”

  Polly and Joan stared at Becky in disbelief, then they glanced slowly down at the floor, just as a tiny black kitten padded out and meowed, its tail twirling contently in the air.

  “Oh, for the love of God,” Becky breathed, her heart pounding so fast she could feel it hammering against her ribcage. “I thought it was an effing bloody snake crawling up my leg.” She leaned forward, her hands on her knees, and took a few long, deep breaths. “You scared the bleeding bejeezers out of me, little kitty.”

  “Meet Goliath,” Joan said, scooping the kitten up into her arms. She snuggled the kitten up under her chin. “Big bad Ladders would have had little Goliath for a snack if we didn’t catch him, and we couldn’t have that, could we?” The kitten meowed and squirmed in Joan’s hands, wanting to be put down. Joan gave Becky a sideways glance. “Maybe you’d like to call back this afternoon, Becky. Say around five-thirty. Leon should be here by then to collect the last of his snakes.”

  Becky picked up her chair and sat back down. “I’d like to, of course, but I’ve really got to do some more work on the article I’m here to write about the three authors. My boss is really anxious to see something by tomorrow.”

  “Well, that is too bad. Another time, perhaps?”

  “Another time,” Becky agreed.

  A while later, her heart beating back on its usual default setting, Becky washed the dishes in the sink while Polly and Joan chatted at the table. She put the last plate in the drip tray, then dried her hands on a linen tea towel that said I Love Paris In Springtime. For the briefest of moments, she was swept back to a time when she was very little. Her mother and father were slow-dancing in their lounge room, while Dean Martin serenaded them on the stereo.

  When it was Becky’s turn to dance, her father would pick her up and waltz around the room with her tightly in his arms, while Victoria sang along to the song until she laughed so hard that tears began running down her cheeks. Tears of joy, she’d say, consoling Becky when her own eyes filled with tears at seeing her mother cry.

  Becky shook her head to shake the memories, and pending tears, away. She turned back toward Polly and Joan, who were busy going through Joan’s dessert recipes.

  “I think this one would be divine,” she said, pointing out a recipe for strawberry watermelon cakes with rose-scented cream.

  “You should come by and talk abo
ut this with Mallory and Elise. I’m happy to leave the decision of desserts for the opening up to the three of you. The cheese for the buffet is all sorted, and I’ve approved the chocolate for the goody bags just yesterday, but that is as far as my expertise in catering goes. Why don’t I let Elise and Mallory know that you will be over later today, to discuss it with them? I know they were so pleased when you agreed to make a dessert for the opening.”

  “Yes. That will be perfect. Just before lunch. There are just a couple of questions that I need to have answered, then I can shoot off down to Cairns, and find something gorgeous to wear,” Joan said, inflating her chest so that it almost doubled in size.

  “Is there something you wanted to tell me, Joan?” Polly asked.

  “I have a gentleman escorting me to the opening,” Joan said, her fingers fluffing her hair. “So around ten to discuss dessert, then?”

  Polly touched the side of her nose. “I think I know who that might be.”

  Joan folded her hands on the table and smiled like the cat that ate the canary.

  “I’ll let Mallory and Elise know to expect you,” Polly said, standing up and picking the basket of fresh eggs up off the table. She pushed the chair in with her free hand.

  “Perfect,” Joan replied, standing up to give Polly a hug. “Around ten it is. I’ll bring a nice custard slice to have with our coffee.”

  “It was lovely meeting you, Joan. And thank you so much for the scrambled eggs for breakfast; they were divine,” Becky said, leaning down to hug Joan, who had already opened her arms in anticipation.

  “You are very welcome, dear. You pop on in anytime, alright? And don’t forget what I said about Leon,” Joan said with a nod.

  “Oh, I won’t forget,” Becky assured her.

  BECKY JENSEN’S FACEBOOK STATUS: I hate bloody snakes!

  Chapter 13

  Skipping Stones.

  By the time Polly and Becky arrived back at the retreat, and were making their way up onto the patio, Gary’s blue Holden Ute was parked at the far side of the house. Spotting them, Monty sprang up and charged toward them like a bull at a gate, his tail wagging enthusiastically in greeting. He reached Polly first, waited for his pat, then moved onto Becky for more of the same.