Fergus quickly stepped back, wiped his chest with the heel of his hand and then wiped his hand against his faded jeans, which sat very snugly on his hips.
Realising she was once again staring quite inappropriately, Tab dragged her eyes back up to his face, only to find him looking at her in an equally disconcerting way. For one ridiculous second she imagined he was checking her out as well and then realised it was her arm, or rather lack thereof, that had stolen his attention. Most of the time she forgot she only had one functioning arm—after almost a decade without it, she simply didn’t notice the loss anymore—but whenever she met someone new she was reminded. People always stared when they first saw her ‘little arm’ and generally it didn’t bother her. Mostly they didn’t mean offence, they were simply shocked, and gawked before their brain kicked in to remind them that staring was rude.
Usually she’d break the ice by telling them the story of how she lost it—let’s face it, that’s what everyone wanted to know—but today the words died on her tongue.
‘Well, now you’ll have to take my word that these goodies were indeed delicious,’ she said as she dropped to her haunches to collect the scattered cakes.
He stooped down beside her to help. As he snatched up the plate and took control, picking up the now useless cakes and putting them into a nearby bin, Tab quickly realised it wasn’t so much that he was being gentlemanly but that he didn’t think her capable of doing it with only one arm.
‘Would you like me to take this back to your car?’ he asked.
‘No thanks. I can manage.’ She graciously thanked him as she took the plate again and held it close to her body.
For the first time in a long while she was acutely aware of her little arm hanging awkwardly beside her. A voice in her head told her to walk away, but she’d never been good at following instructions.
‘So why are you painting the wall?’ she asked in an attempt to defeat the awkwardness. ‘Isn’t that a job for maintenance?’
‘I thought it needed it.’
‘Right. Fair enough.’ So he wasn’t a chatty one.
‘Anyway, I better get back to it. Thanks for … ah, the gesture.’
At this, she decided maybe he was shy rather than rude or maybe he was simply better at interacting with children than he was with adults. Her judging him on this would be almost as bad as him making assumptions about her because of her little arm. And, if he was shy and awkward, how on earth would he handle the onslaught of single women who were about to unleash themselves on him?
‘You’re welcome. I wanted to welcome you to town, and … I should also probably give you a warning.’
‘Oh?’ One of his dark eyebrows crept skywards.
‘I’ve just come from the town hall—we have a fortnightly knitting session where we make things for charities, local fundraisers and stuff like that … Anyway, you should know that you’re the first male teacher this town, hell, this region has seen in at least thirty years and that makes you very interesting.’
‘I’m flattered.’
‘Have you lived in the country before?’ she found herself asking.
‘Nope.’
‘Well, there’s kind of this thing about new teachers. Especially if they’re good ones. The town wants to keep them so they try to marry them off to single farmers—only usually the teachers are women and the local guys are happy to go with the flow and see what happens. Not so some of the single women around here—they’re voracious so you’re fair game. Just thought I’d warn you what was coming.’
Fergus pushed his sunglasses atop his thick black curls. ‘Are you single?’
Tab blinked. OMG, those eyes—the whites were so bright compared to the warm caramel of his pupils. ‘Well … yes.’ Something fizzed inside her—was this cute guy about to make a move? How ironic would that be?
‘So what makes you any different to these women you’re telling me about?’ He glanced around as if the fact single girls didn’t jump out from behind the bushes called her out as a liar.
She opened and closed her mouth—speechless for the first time in as long as she could remember. Speechless and stupid. As if someone like him would look twice at someone like her.
‘How do I know your attempt to bring me food isn’t a ploy to get to my …’ He paused and she flushed even more. ‘Heart?’
‘What?’ she blurted, stunned at his cockiness.
He merely cocked his head to one side.
‘I can assure you,’ Tab said, resisting the urge to throw the plate at him again, ‘that is not the case. I’m quite happily single. So happy that even if you were good-looking, charming, rich and the last man on earth, I wouldn’t be interested. I was simply trying to be nice!’
‘That’s good then,’ he said with a smirk. ‘Because I too am happily single and have no interest whatsoever in dating you or anyone else in this town. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my painting.’
Mind? Tab couldn’t stand to be in his insufferable presence a moment longer and couldn’t get out of the car park, out of the town, fast enough!
Chapter Four
Fergus made a face at the bathroom mirror as he tried to do up his tie. He’d never perfected the art of tying them. The rare times he’d needed one growing up, he’d managed to con his sister into helping and the last few years Jools had been his chief tie-doer. It was something the three of them often joked about.
Annoyed, he yanked at the knot and tugged the tie right off. This was a barbecue in a country town not a formal dinner with the queen.
With a quick run of his fingers through his still damp hair, he went out to give Mrs Norris her dinner. She glared at him as he opened the tin and he glared right back as he crinkled his nose at the smell. He couldn’t help being a little envious of the cat. Not of her fishy feast, but of the fact she had a night of solitude ahead. He’d kill for a beer and a TV dinner.
‘You don’t know how lucky you are,’ he told her as he scratched her head. She rewarded him with a hiss and he held up his hand in surrender. ‘Personal space. I get it.’
He wondered if any of the single women that girl yesterday—what was her name?—had spoken about would be at Joanne’s house or if, as he suspected, that had simply been a ploy to start a conversation with him.
As he scooped his keys and wallet off the hall table, he heard a car approaching. The cottage was a good kilometre from the road and he hadn’t heard any traffic since he’d arrived. Assuming it must be the farmer who leased the land, he stepped outside and was surprised to see a pristine white four-wheel drive pulling up alongside his wagon. It had to be the first clean car he’d seen since leaving the city four days ago.
He frowned as a tall, incredibly thin woman with straight blonde hair hanging down to her waist got out of the car. She didn’t look like a farmer.
‘Hi.’ The woman waved as a massive white dog jumped out of the driver’s side behind her and ran over to him. As the dog sniffed at his groin, the woman giggled in a way that grated on his nerves, but didn’t call the animal off. ‘Sorry, she’s not much of a lady.’
He smiled through his teeth and ruffled the dog’s fur. He had to admit, it was a good-looking animal and very friendly. ‘May I help you?’
‘Oh, excuse my manners. I’m Adeline Walsh,’ she said, thrusting her hand at him. He shook it reluctantly. ‘I’ve come to welcome you to town.’
‘Walsh? As in the town?’
‘That’s right.’ She beamed. ‘My descendants were the town’s first settlers and we’ve been here ever since. I’m not just a Walsh either, but also related to the Elverds, who were—’
‘That’s great,’ Ferg cut her off. He didn’t have the time for a local history lesson or he’d be late to Joanne’s.
‘Shall we have a drink?’ Adeline asked.
He suddenly realised she had a bottle of champagne in her free hand. Who turned up unexpectedly on a stranger’s doorstep with alcohol? These country women were weird.
‘Thanks, but I’m heading out.’
‘Oh.’ She honest-to-God pouted. There may even have been a flutter of eyelashes. ‘But I was so looking forward to getting to know you. Where are you off to?’
Her direct question surprised him so much that he answered her before realising it was none of her business. ‘To the Warburton farm. Joanne’s having a barbecue.’
‘Really?’ Adeline looked put out that she hadn’t been invited.
‘So I can meet the other teaching and school support staff,’ he said, squeezing his fist around his keys.
‘Well, that’s a pity, but maybe we can take a raincheck. We’ll need to organise a time so I can interview you for the Whisperer anyway.’
‘The what?’
‘The local paper. I’m the editor-in-chief. Purely a voluntary position but still very demanding. I like to do my bit for my community.’
‘Ah, right.’ Ferg couldn’t imagine what a town this size could have to put in a newspaper.
‘All new teachers have an interview in the paper. What are you doing tomorrow night?’
‘Um …’ Shit, he needed to think quick—an interview was one thing, but this sounded more like a date. ‘I might be heading back to Perth to collect a few more things.’
‘Oh, okay. Well, I’m sure we’ll work something out. I also wanted to talk to you about my dogs.’
‘Your dogs?’ He looked down at the beast between them. She had more than one of these things?
‘Yes.’ She touched his arm and he couldn’t help noticing her long red talons, which didn’t seem to gel in this rural setting. Adeline Walsh looked as if she’d stepped right off a Hollywood film set. ‘My other bitch, Bella, has recently had puppies and I thought maybe you’d like one. They’ll be ready in two weeks. I usually charge two thousand dollars a pup, but I’m sure we could come to some arrangement. With you being all alone out here, maybe you could use the company?’
‘Thanks for the offer,’ he said, stepping back to put distance between them, ‘but I’ve got a cat and she can’t stand dogs.’
Adeline frowned, her nose curling upwards a little. ‘Oh, that is a shame.’
‘Now, I’m really sorry, but I don’t want to be late. Nice to meet you.’
He was pulling open his car door when she called out, ‘What about Friday night?’
‘Sorry. Can’t. Busy.’ With those three words he escaped into his car and without a backward glance started down the long drive a little too fast.
Joanne’s farm was only five minutes away and he was almost at his destination when a massive kangaroo hopped out in front of his car. He swore and slammed his foot on the brakes, letting out a sigh of relief when the roo continued on across the road without even a glance towards him. As Fergus’s heart rate returned to normal, he decided he was well and truly in the country now but would prefer to deal with kangaroos over women any day.
Everyone was already there when Joanne welcomed him into her house and he apologised for his delay. ‘I got held up by an unexpected visitor.’
‘No worries. Come on through and meet the team,’ she said, linking her arm through his as she led him down a long wide hallway in the direction of loud chatter.
‘Lovely house,’ Ferg said. It was triple the size of the place he and Jools had rented in Perth, and with lovely high ceilings boasting ornamental floral mouldings, he guessed this home was built sometime around the turn of the twentieth century.
‘Oh thanks, but don’t look too closely. It’s in dire need of renovation. Sadly, my husband doesn’t agree; making stuff look pretty is the last thing farmers want to spend money on.’
They emerged into a massive country-style kitchen that opened up onto a large back verandah and Ferg counted about twelve people all sipping beer or wine. They turned to scrutinise him.
‘Everyone, I’d like you to meet Fergus McWilliams, our new teacher. Now, can I get you a beer?’
He nodded. ‘Thanks, that’d be great.’
‘You already know Beck.’ Joanne gestured to the woman with black frizzy hair sitting at one end of the table. Beck lifted her hand in a wave. ‘But I’ll let everyone else introduce themselves.’
While she went to fetch his beer, the other guests rushed forward to say hello and shake hands.
Maria, a grey-haired, slightly overweight but very smiley woman, taught art, library, sport, Italian and ‘whatever else the Ed department decides we need to squeeze into the curriculum’. She’d been at the school on and off for forty years, only stopping to have kids. Next was Haylee, who taught the kindy and pre-primary classes and didn’t look to be much older than her students. She wore bright pink glasses and two big silver hoops in her ears. Vanessa, the Years 1 and 2 teacher, fell somewhere in the middle in terms of age and had long, wavy red hair that hung right down to her butt, a hippy-type skirt that dragged along the floor and a bright-multicoloured macaroni necklace around her neck. Another young woman, Taya, took Years 5 and 6 and told Ferg she was glad not to be the town’s newest teacher anymore. The final woman, Judy, was a teacher’s assistant who only worked part-time because she babysat her grandkids two days a week. A pair of spectacles hung round her neck on one of those chain things and she wore very bright orange lipstick.
‘Sadly, Molly, our other TA, couldn’t make it tonight as she’s on her honeymoon, but she’s fantastic as well.’ Joanne smiled at the women—this was clearly a tight-knit team.
The husbands introduced themselves next and Fergus began to wish they were wearing name badges. He was good at remembering kids’ names, but for some reason he’d never been so good with adults. But as he shook hands with the men, he felt a little of the tension he’d brought into the house ease. Granted, he’d only been to the hardware store, the supermarket and the café so far, but he’d been beginning to think Walsh was populated only with women. Mostly crazy, desperate, single ones, if his interactions so far were anything to go by.
At least all his colleagues appeared happily married, so he didn’t have to worry about being accosted near the photocopier.
Joanne’s husband Trevor announced the meat was done and as he delivered it to the table, Joanne and Beck brought out bowls of salad from the fridge to go with the fresh home-baked rolls and local butter already there. Fergus couldn’t imagine them even putting a dent in this mountain of food.
‘So, how’s your first few days in Walsh been?’ asked Maria (or was she Molly?).
‘Good. I’ve been busy getting my classroom ready and painting the wall.’
‘Oh, Joanne mentioned your idea to have the kids help paint a mural on it,’ said Haylee. ‘That’s very sweet of you.’
Fergus smiled, uncomfortable with praise.
‘We’ll take some photos for Carline while the kids are painting. We’re trying to keep her in the loop,’ Joanne explained to Fergus.
‘Poor Carline.’ Maria shook her head sadly. ‘She’s the last person who deserves anything like this.’
‘Nobody deserves cancer,’ Joanne said, ‘but in my experience it seems to pick only the best people to prey on.’
‘Yes,’ Maria agreed. ‘This town has lost a fair few good people to the Big C.’
‘Not only people,’ Judy said. ‘Tabby Cooper-Jones lost her arm. And only a few years after losing her mother. Poor girl.’
Fergus’s ears pricked up. They had to be talking about the woman he’d met yesterday. How many people with only one arm could a town the size of Walsh have? He felt like a bit of a tool for the way he’d stared at her stump, but it had taken him by surprise.
‘The Cooper-Jones sure seem to have their fair share of bad luck,’ said one of the husbands—Fergus had forgotten his name. ‘Hopefully times are a-changing though. Meg seems a good sort.’
Ferg had no idea who Meg was and wondered what other bad luck they were talking about.
‘Yes, she is.’ A smile split Beck’s face. ‘And did you guys hear Tabitha’s pregnant?’
‘Yes.’ Even the bloke
s grinned and nodded at this news.
‘What?’ Ferg almost choked on the sip of beer he’d just taken. But hadn’t she said she was single?
‘Sorry,’ Joanne said. ‘We shouldn’t talk about people you don’t know. Although you’ll probably meet Tab soon—her nephew’s in your class.’
Ferg was about to say he didn’t mind, but a shout-out from the front of the house interrupted the conversation.
‘Yoo-hoo? Is anyone home?’
‘Who on earth could that be?’ Joanne shook her head as she pushed back her chair.
Trevor held up his hand as he too stood. ‘It’s alright, love, I’ll go.’
‘Thanks. Would anyone like another drink?’ Joanne asked as he headed to the front door.
‘No thanks.’ One beer was enough—Ferg didn’t want to let down his guard around his new colleagues.
‘Yes, please,’ came the chorus from almost everyone else.
As Joanne refilled the wineglasses, Trevor appeared with a plump, middle-aged woman wearing pearls around her neck and a fancy blouse as if she was heading to church or something.
‘Eileen said she’s seen some cows on the main road she thinks might belong to us,’ Trev said to Joanne.
‘Really?’ Joanne’s eyebrows rose slowly.
The woman nodded. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt your soiree, but just doing my neighbourly duty.’
‘Neighbourly?’ The youngest bloke—Haylee’s husband—snorted, and when she elbowed him in the side, he tried to hide it by taking a mouthful of beer.
‘A phone call would have sufficed, Eileen,’ Joanne said, ‘but thanks for your concern. Trevor will go check now.’
‘On my way.’ He was already starting back in the direction of the front door.
‘I’ll come with you,’ said another man; Ferg thought he belonged to Judy and that his name might have been Pete.
‘You can see Eileen out on your way.’
But Eileen seemed in no hurry to leave. ‘You must be Mr McWilliams,’ she said, coming around the table towards Fergus.
‘Hello.’ He felt obliged to stand and offer his hand.
Something to Talk About (Rose Hill, #2) Page 4
