Lake Hill

by Margareta Osborn

  Thirty dogs running around her land? What on earth had she done?

  ‘Um, I didn’t –’

  ‘Oh, Julia, it’s perfect. Thank you! You’re amazing, just like Rick said.’

  He’d said she was amazing? She blushed.

  ‘It’ll be girl power against those doubting Thomases.’

  ‘You mean your brother and Owen?’ Julia asked.

  ‘Yep. They reckon I need my head seen to for taking on the dogs, but I tell you, nothing’s ever made me happier.’

  It hit Julia what Montana had said. ‘Dogs as in plural? I thought you just had Honey?’

  ‘No, I’ve got a whole team. There’s Ange, Croz, Flora, Winter and Summer, and I’ve just ordered two new pups.’

  ‘How do you manage six dogs?’ Rupert couldn’t even stand the thought of one.

  ‘Easy. You tell them what to do, be consistent and persistent, then give them a reward when they do good. As I told you, I don’t have creative talent like my parents or my brother; and the real estate agency franchise is really Owen’s baby now. Even my little house is part of the family estate. But the dogs – they’re totally mine and I just love working with them.’

  There was no doubt about that. Her dark eyes were shining and her voice throbbed with passion.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve finally found the thing you want to do, Montana,’ Julia said.

  She knew from experience that it was awfully hard to find that special thing that set your heart free and made you so happy you had to smile regardless. And when you found it, you had to hold onto it tight with both hands and … well, dance.

  ‘Is that how you feel about the tearooms?’ Montana asked. ‘About Lake Hill?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Julia.

  ‘How would you like to come meet my dogs then? See why they make me so happy?’

  ‘What, now?’

  ‘Yeah, they’re all out in my ute.’

  Julia hated to think of the mess and noise they must be making.

  ‘Go on,’ said Ernie, making a shooing motion with his floury hands. ‘I’ve got the scones completely under control.’

  Julia could see he did from the deft way he was sifting and pouring.

  ‘Oh. My. God. You are so lucky. Ernie’s scones are just the best!’ said Montana. ‘Even Betty moved aside for him when it came to making scones.’

  ‘Let’s leave the expert to his work then and go meet your dogs,’ Julia said.

  She followed Montana into the bright glare of the day and through the garden gate. On the tray of the ute sat a big square box partitioned into sections with mesh along the sides. There were rolled-up canvas blinds decorating each partition door, but Julia couldn’t see any dogs nor could she hear any barking nearby.

  ‘I’m sorry but I haven’t got time today to go up the paddock or wherever your dogs are,’ she told Montana. ‘I can’t leave Ernie.’

  Montana gave her a funny look. ‘You don’t have to. They’re right here in front of you.’

  Julia peered at the ute again, and sure enough, she could just make out a few lolling pink tongues and wriggling bodies in the shadows of each partition. She couldn’t believe it.

  ‘How come they’re not barking?’ she asked.

  ‘Because I’ve taught them not to.’ The proud look on Montana’s face disappeared a second later as she rolled her eyes. ‘That’ll all change if I get a Huntaway though. They bark their heads off. That’s why you have one, to be your barking dog and get movement in your stock.’ At Julia’s confused look, she added, ‘If you’ve got movement, you can fix most direction problems.’

  It was all going over Julia’s head, but Montana obviously loved it. She opened one of the cages and said, ‘Down, Ange.’ A black and tan kelpie with a white chest and wearing a pink collar jumped to the ground at Montana’s feet. The bitch gazed up at her owner with obvious adoration in her smiley eyes.

  ‘Come meet her,’ Montana said. ‘She’s beautiful.’

  She was, but Julia still approached cautiously. Her fears were unfounded. Ange leaned into her the minute Julia fondled her head.

  ‘See, she likes you,’ said Montana. ‘We’ll turn you into a dog person yet!’

  Julia laughed, and felt happiness suffuse her whole being. The people of Lake Grace had embraced her, had made her feel like one of their own. It had all happened so quickly it made her feel giddy.

  And it gave her something she’d been searching for her whole life: a sense of belonging.

  Chapter 16

  Tess’s sigh was audible down the phone line. ‘I’ve interviewed five candidates, Jules, and to be honest they’re all questionable. I’ve narrowed it down to three. I’ll send their resumés through now.’

  Julia leaned against the kitchen wall, twirling the phone cord around her hand. If only she’d been able to employ a local. The problem was, people just didn’t want to cook plain and basic any more. She’d been planning to start serving the cafe’s full menu this coming weekend and it was already Wednesday.

  ‘Don’t worry, Tess, the internet’s dodgy here at the best of times. Just pick the best one. I trust you.’

  Tess had been in the employment agency game long enough to gauge people in just a couple of minutes.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she said.

  ‘Yep. Just do it.’

  ‘Alright. There’s this girl who applied on Friday. She was late, but seeing there was such a lack of applicants I accepted her resumé. She’s a little light on experience, but at least she can cook, not like the other two applicants who really want waitressing jobs.’

  ‘But can she bake, Tess? Cakes and scones and stuff?’

  ‘She says so. I checked out her referee, of course, and they said she was okay.’

  ‘Only one referee?’

  ‘Yes, only one, Julia.’ Tess sounded impatient. ‘The problem is, no one wants to work out in the sticks, especially as you’re not offering a full-time job as such. And there aren’t too many people willing to be a cook and a housemaid. You’d be better off getting a local.’

  Seeing that Julia only needed a part-time cook, Rick had offered to make up the extra hours with some housekeeping work at the Grange. He’d also offered whoever took the job a room in the staff quarters at the big house.

  ‘I’ve already tried the local job agency,’ Julia said, ‘and they haven’t come up with anyone suitable.’

  Montana had scanned the meagre selection of resumés the agency had sent through and pronounced every applicant ‘tossers’. Apparently she knew them all – that was the country for you.

  ‘Right. I’ll send this girl to you then. Give her a month’s trial so you’ve got an out if you don’t like her.’

  ‘Thanks, Tess, for everything. I’ll do a trial, like you say, and we’ll see how it goes. When can she arrive?’

  ‘She wasn’t exactly sure but very soon. Next week at the latest, I’d imagine. Got to go, sweetheart. I’m in the queue for coffee.’

  In the background, Julia heard the clanging rumble of a tram trundling past, the roar of a road-sweeping machine and a siren wailing in the distance. In comparison, after she’d hung up she heard nothing but the cackling of a pair of kookaburras perched in the ancient forest red gum.

  It wasn’t until she was in the garden gathering some roses to decorate her tables that she realised she’d forgotten to ask her new employee’s name.

  ‘Apparently she’ll be here sometime between now and next week,’ she said to Rick.

  He was propped against the kitchen bench, wiping dry the glass cake stands and their dome covers she’d just washed. He had taken to calling in at odd times.

  ‘So let me get this right,’ he said. ‘You don’t know who she is, what kind of experience she has, or even her name? Are you sure this mate of yours is kosher?’

  She raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Rick, why do you have to be so distrustful? If Tess says she’s worth a try, that’s good enough for me.’

  ‘I don’t know.�
�� He shook his head as he placed the glass stands with elaborate care on the bench. ‘What if this girl just wants to see what she can get? You said yourself your mate wasn’t completely sure about her.’

  Julia wished she’d kept that information to herself. She slipped her arms around Rick’s waist and gazed up into his eyes.

  ‘You have to stop being so suspicious and paranoid about people, Rick. Not everyone has an ulterior motive, and I’ve worked for years in the legal game. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.’

  He resisted her for a moment, then put down the tea towel and pulled her closer, wrapping his long arms around her. She fitted perfectly under his chin, and it was such a lovely place to be. She inhaled his male scent – Brut deodorant, vague under-tones of diesel, the washing detergent he’d used on his shirt. She could hear his heart thumping, could feel the warmth radiating from his solid body.

  He tipped up her chin with his finger, his brow in wrinkled disarray. ‘Suspicious, hey?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Paranoid too?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Shit. Guess I am a little.’

  ‘A little? I’d hate to see a lot!’

  He gave a half-laugh. ‘You’re becoming a cheeky madam, aren’t you? So cheeky I hear you’re taking on my sister’s sheep.’

  ‘Poor Montana,’ she began.

  ‘Poor Montana? What about poor me!’

  Julia glanced up at him anxiously. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  The teasing light in his eyes reassured her before his words. ‘Of course I don’t. If you’re happy to have them, it means Charlie and I don’t have to deal with the bastards.’

  ‘You really don’t like sheep, do you?’

  ‘Oh, I like them well enough when you’ve got the right fences to keep them in. But when you haven’t, you get one rogue and they all go AWOL.’

  ‘Montana said my fences are fine.’

  ‘For once she’s talking sense.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh.’

  He winced. ‘Probably, but I worry about her. I tried my best with her, but sometimes I wonder if it was good enough.’

  ‘She’s a lovely girl, Rick. You should be proud of her.’

  ‘I am. Just wish my parents had been too.’

  ‘Why weren’t they?’ she asked, then wished she could suck the question back when she saw the bleak look on his face.

  ‘I wish I could tell you. I only have my own theory.’

  Julia stilled in his arms, waiting to see if he would say more.

  After a beat, he added, ‘I don’t think Montana’s my father’s daughter.’

  ‘What?! You … you think Elsbeth cheated on Cormac?’

  Rick broke away from her embrace. ‘Of course she cheated on him, frequently. I told you that.’

  ‘I didn’t know it had gone that far. Does Montana know?’

  ‘No.’ His clipped tone wasn’t encouraging, but after he’d walked away a few paces, he turned back to her and said, ‘Mother was doing a film with Robert Porter around the right time. He was a Hollywood heartthrob, and a redhead.’

  He paused for her to acknowledge the significance of the information, but Julia didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Mother wouldn’t ever admit it, but look at Montana’s colouring. There are no redheads in our family tree, and she doesn’t look like any of us. Plus, she hasn’t any artistic talent whatsoever, much as she tried to please the olds.’ He sighed. ‘Elsbeth only wanted Montana around when it suited her to trot out a pretty daughter for all her so-called friends to admire. Then she’d get “put away” again, like a doll. I brought her up – me and Betty, Ernie’s wife. Elsbeth was rarely home thanks to the films. And Dad …’ Rick sighed again and scuffed at his hair. ‘Well, Dad barely gave her the time of day.’

  Julia’s mind was a whirl. Suddenly she was a teenager again, seeing Elsbeth Halloran’s face twisted into an ugly mask as she ordered Julia and her parents to get out of her hotel room and never come back.

  She dragged herself back to the present. ‘But, Rick, you can’t let your mother’s mistakes rule your – or Montana’s – life.’

  ‘And how do you propose I fix it? Go to some bloody psychiatrist so they can tell me we had a shit childhood, which I already know, and that I need to confront it?’

  That was about it in a nutshell, Julia thought, but she was a fine one to talk.

  ‘So you think this Robert Porter is Montana’s father?’ she said instead.

  He mumbled something.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I said, it doesn’t matter!’ His shout reverberated around the kitchen.

  If he was this angry about his mother’s behaviour, what would he say if he knew what Julia had done?

  She picked up the nearest thing to hand, a damp cloth, and made herself busy wiping down the benchtops. ‘I can see you’re upset, Rick. Perhaps you should go?’

  She felt his hand touch her shoulder. She ignored it, but the pressure was insistent.

  ‘Julia, I’m sorry. I just get touchy about this stuff.’ He moved her around to face him and tipped up her chin. ‘Geez, I’m making a hash of this, aren’t I?’

  She nodded, gave a tiny smile. ‘You’re not exactly winning Brownie points.’

  He leaned down and his lips touched hers gently. ‘Can I kiss it better?’

  She wished he could, but it was going to take more than that. She shivered. He could never find out what she’d done. Ever.

  It was another perfect spring afternoon. Julia was in the garden, inspecting the white Iceberg roses that lined the path to the front door for black spot and collecting flowers to display in the cafe. When she was done, despite having a hundred things to do inside, she sat down on the log chair that overlooked the lake. She breathed in lungfuls of fresh air drenched with the scents of lilac, rose and honeysuckle. Her limbs felt light, and happiness enveloped her as she sat and took it all in. Look how far she’d come. From her counsellor’s office in Melbourne to this incredible spot, and a new life and a new business. And a boyfriend.

  Rick had left this morning with a whistle on his lips. He was carting cattle to a property further up the valley today and wouldn’t be back until later tonight. She already longed for his return. She couldn’t imagine life here without him now.

  They’d got through the weekend okay, she and Ernie. The retired doctor was proving to be indispensable, but she could see he was exhausted after a week of full days baking scones and cakes. Trade had been constant, with more people driving out to see ‘the new cafe by the lake’. Some had read about it in Ernie’s newsletter article, while others had heard good things on the grapevine.

  Julia had decided not to open the cafe today; she wanted to keep Mondays and Tuesdays free. They all needed a bit of time off, but she also wanted to use the days to do some business planning. Another of her dreams was to run some cooking classes at the cafe, which was taking shape thanks to a local sourdough baker who’d popped in over the weekend. The woman wanted to sell her bread at the cafe, and in return was willing to give some workshops. A win–win situation for all.

  So, things were working out. She just needed a cook and even that was looking positive. Which reminded her about the cupcakes she needed to make today, to ensure there was enough to supply customers for the rest of this week. With one last regretful look at the shimmering Lake Grace, Julia got up, collected her blooms and walked back inside to the kitchen. After dumping the flowers in a bucket of water for their stems to soak for a while, she sorted the ingredients for her baking. Hauled the Mixmaster out of a cupboard but, as she swung around, she knocked a tall crystal vase she’d left on the bench, and sent it hurtling to the floor.

  SMASH!

  Oh. My. God. It had been one of Rupert’s favourites. The shattered pieces now splayed across the kitchen linoleum reminded her all over again of the windscreen she wrecked in Rupert’s other pride and joy, his Peugeot, the day fate deposited her in Lake Grace.

  A
knock at the door had her running for a brush and shovel to hastily clean up the mess. The knock came again, harder this time.

  ‘I’m coming! Hang on!’

  More sweeping. She couldn’t leave it here in case someone stepped on the glass.

  Another loud, more impatient knock.

  ‘I’m coming, I said!’ Why were people so impatient these days?

  Finally, she made it to the door and opened it up. A young man of about twenty stood there. His short, layered hair had a long floppy fringe, he had a couple of tattoos inked on his arms and a piercing through one eyebrow. Judging by his appearance, he didn’t seem a cafe kind of fellow.

  ‘Are you looking for the walking track?’ Julia said and pointed towards the water. ‘It’s down there. I’m afraid the cafe’s closed today.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not after tea. I’m looking for Julia Gunn,’ said the man in a surprisingly high voice.

  Julia took a harder look at the visitor. She noticed two mounds on the T-shirt-covered chest. And the legs below the frayed cut-off shorts were tanned, long and shapely.

  ‘I’m Julia,’ she said, a horrible new thought dawning.

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m your new cook.’

  ‘Right,’ said Julia faintly. How could this be happening? Then again Tess had warned her.

  ‘I left me bag back at the pub with a bloke called Bluey. Got a lift out here with a tradie. Said he was heading to the caravan park.’

  ‘Right,’ said Julia again.

  She was struggling to find any other words. This girl wasn’t at all appropriate for her beautiful cafe. Her conservative, small-town customers would have a fit if they saw her in the kitchen. They’d never come back!

  ‘Can you say anything else?’ the girl asked, slipping a piece of chewing gum out of her pocket and into her mouth. ‘I thought you were some toffy kinda lady? Tess said I had to be on my “best behaviour”,’ the girl sketched speech marks in the air, ‘blah blah blah.’

  ‘I am,’ Julia said without thinking. ‘I mean, I’m not. And yes, you should be. This is a job interview after all. It’s just …’