Chapter 22
It took a few minutes for Poppy’s heart rate to slow enough for her to concentrate on where she was going.
“Cute,” Terri said. “But he needs a haircut.”
Poppy ignored her. “Do we have to go into town first to pick up the keys?”
“Nope. You can drive straight to the house.”
“Do you have directions?”
Terri tapped the side of her head with one finger. “Up here. I memorized them.”
“Of course you did,” she mumbled.
What was the bet her mother forget one important turn and they ended up lost in the middle of a paddock?
Terri shifted position in her seat. “Looks like a nice part of the world.”
From what Poppy had seen on her previous visit to the town two days earlier, she agreed. They’d lived in some ordinary places over the years and in comparison, Birrangulla was heavenly.
As she drove between the bare poplars Poppy had the same odd sensation that she’d come home but she shrugged the feeling off. Home was New York and she was going back there as soon as she had her mother settled and safe in Birrangulla.
“Before you get to town you have to look for the signs to Fish River.” Terri sat forward, eyes darting left to front to right. “There it is!” she exclaimed moments later.
Poppy shot a glance at her mother. She was the most animated she’d been in twenty-four hours. An unsettled feeling washed over her.
Poppy slowed, indicated and navigated the turnoff from asphalt to gravel easily. They were surrounded by paddocks. “Are you sure this is the right way?”
On the side of the road a white cross marked the place someone had lost their life and Poppy subconsciously released the pressure of her foot on the accelerator and sent up a silent prayer for every person affected by that tragedy.
“Is this house on a farm, Mum?” They were nowhere near the town.
Her mother ignored her question.
“Once you cross Fish River bridge you have to turn right into Eagle’s Ridge Road.”
They came to the road and Poppy slowed again. “Left or right?” Not a house was in sight. Cream-colored dust rose in a plume behind her car and stones flicked up against the under carriage.
“Right. About two kilometers along you’ll see the Anglican Church. Just past the gates for the church is Robertson’s Road. The house is about five hundred meters on the right side.”
“That looks like the church,” Poppy said a moment later.
The old red brick building sat beside an ancient cemetery, the unkempt gravestones surrounded by weeds. She turned into Robertson’s Road and it wasn’t long before she saw a set of white timber gates. The previous owner had freshly painted the property name, Cooinda, in black paint on a white background. Poppy tamped down her delight – this wasn’t her home, it was her mother’s.
Even from the end of the driveway, the property looked gorgeous – like something from a Country Living magazine. They rattled over the cattle grid and drove down a gravel driveway lined with lemon-scented gum trees and agapanthuses. Terri bounced like a child in the seat beside her. Inside, Poppy’s own excitement was bouncing too but she held herself in check.
She pulled up to a small farmhouse surrounded by a white picket fence and took everything in. Fluffy white clouds danced across the sky causing shadows to dance on the surrounding hills. It was beautiful.
To her left was a fully-fenced, large, cleared paddock. Poppy’s heart sped up, her mind’s eye already picturing horses grazing there. The cottage, a single-story timber structure, stood in the center of a neat yard surrounded by well-maintained cottage gardens. Surely places like this only existed in dreams. Her pulse raced even faster as she caught sight of red brick chimneys and an iron roof. She imagined crackling wood fires inside as rain pelted down outside.
The weatherboards were painted a gunmetal gray and the front door a striking pale lemony-yellow. Poppy placed her decorating hat on and pictured white painted Adirondack chairs on the front verandah with matching yellow cushions.
She turned off the ignition and Terri sprang from the car. By the time Poppy unbuckled her belt, Terri was doing her best Sound of Music impersonation, arms outstretched, turning circles.
Poppy inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the smells of fresh ploughed paddocks and farm animals and the sharp scent of eucalyptus. She sighed softly. After all the dodgy places they’d lived, how had her mother managed to pick this beauty?
She tipped her head back and looked up at the sky again. The thin white trail of a Jetstream crossed diagonally overhead from east to west.
“What do you think?” Terri asked.
“It’s gorgeous.” And Poppy genuinely meant it. “But can you afford it?”
“Of course I can. It’s cheap because it’s in the middle of nowhere.”
“Won’t you feel isolated out here? Lonely?”
“Not at all. Just imagine, no neighbors to annoy me.”
And no neighbors for you to annoy.
“It’s very quiet.”
At that, a flock of yellow-crested cockatoos took off from the trees, squawking loudly, breaking the silence. The only other sound was the distant bleating of sheep and a tractor turning over the soil or something, somewhere. Of all the places they’d lived, the country was not one of them and it was blissful. No wonder people escaped to the country.
“It’s going to be muddy out here when it gets wet though,” Poppy said, looking at the potholes in the gravel. It was dry now, but come the middle of winter the driveway would turn into a quagmire.
“I’ll buy boots.”
“And cold. You’re close enough to the Blue Mountains you’ll probably get snow here. You’re used to Queensland weather. This is going to play havoc with your asthma.”
“Heard of a coat?” Terri retorted.
“What if something happens to you? You’re a long way from anywhere.”
Poppy could come up with a thousand more possible reasons why this move would fail.
Terri made snorting sounds of dismissal. “You’re always looking for the negatives.”
Poppy clamped her lips together, closed her eyes and swept her hair up, allowing the winter sun to warm the back of her neck and wash away the frustration that always came with any conversation with her mother. She opened her eyes again when she heard the crunch of tires on gravel and turned to see a car coming slowly toward them.
“Is that the real estate agent?”
“No. It’s probably the owner,” Terri said.
Something heavy landed in Poppy’s stomach. “Why are we meeting the owner?”
“I’m renting privately this time, instead of going through an agent. The lady sounded lovely on the phone. Young, but lovely.”
Poppy’s heart sank all the way to her feet. “Oh no, Mum. No. You did that once before and it was a disaster.”
The car came to a stop and a man around Poppy’s age, dressed in dark suit pants and a crisp white shirt, stepped out. He held a set of keys in his hand. In three long strides he was in front of them, hand outstretched, salesman-smile firmly fixed in place. Maybe he was a real estate agent. Poppy snuck another peek at him while she reached into the car and grabbed her phone and bag. No, her first impression was way off the mark. He wasn’t a salesman, he was one of those private-school-educated kind of guys. All class. The polar opposite of Terri and Poppy.
“Hello. You must be Mrs. Fletcher,” he said with a smile, displaying perfectly straightened, perfectly whitened teeth – unquestionably the product of expensive orthodontic work.
“Ms. Fletcher, not Mrs. And you are?”
“Nathan Kennedy. My wife Mackenzie and I own this property.”
Terri scowled and her hands went straight to her wide hips. “Where’s your wife then? She said she’d be the one to meet me. How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
Nathan swallowed and his smile slipped sideways. The look he shot Poppy was so quick s
he couldn’t interpret it.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Fletcher. My wife was called into work.”
“Obviously something more important than meeting her new tenant.”
“Mum!” Poppy caught Nathan’s eye and mouthed “sorry”.
Terri held out her hand, palm up, a questioning look on her face. “Are they the keys then?”
“Yes. Here. All yours.” He held them out like they were about to burn the tips of his fingers.
“If I have any problems, I’ll be in contact with your wife.” Terri swiped the keys from his hand. With a flick of her long gray hair she spun away from him and strode toward the house without a backward glance.
Nathan stared after Terri, the smile gone, his eyes full of confusion. He wore the same expression most people wore when meeting her mother for the first time. Not Liam though. He’d actually been surprisingly okay.
Poppy attempted to make eye contact and break the ice. “I’m Poppy McDonald. Sorry about my mother. She can be, er … difficult.”
“I tried to call her to let her know I’d be coming instead of Kenz,” he stammered. “But her phone must have been switched off or out of range. The power and gas are both turned on. I hope the house meets her needs. If there is anything we can do to help her settle in, please don’t hesitate to call. Our numbers are on the paperwork on the kitchen bench.” He was rushing his words, obviously desperate to get out of there.
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for her.”
“Are you staying here too?” he asked. “She never mentioned anything about you living here too. Although it’s perfectly okay if you want to.”
“I’m not staying. I’m only here to get her settled then I’m heading back home.”
“Oh.” He glanced around nervously. “In case we need to reach you for anything, do you live nearby?”
“New York.”
His eyes widened further. “Oh,” he repeated. “So, um, if I needed to get in touch with you about anything … regarding your mother …”
His words trailed away as a blush filled his cheeks. She knew what he was thinking. A mad woman had rented his house and he wanted to know who to call if he needed to evict her. Poppy understood. That’s what had happened the last time her mother was kicked out of a house. The last time she took a private rental. Something tickled the skin between Poppy’s shoulder blades and she pushed the premonition from her mind. This time was going to be different. It had to be.
“I’m only a phone call away,” she assured him. Reaching into her handbag she found a pen and scrap of paper. She scribbled her name and number on it and passed it to him. “Call me about anything. She’ll be right once she’s settled and I won’t leave until then. After that, you won’t even hear from her, I’m sure.” She pasted on a bright smile and Nathan smiled halfheartedly in return. She could tell he didn’t believe her for a second.
“Pop-py!” Terri’s ear-splitting call cut through the late afternoon louder than a pair of mating lorikeets.
Poppy gave Nathan an apologetic look. “I’d better go and see what she wants.”
Terri reappeared in the doorway.
“Poppy’s single you know,” she said.
“Mum!” She glanced sideways at Nathan. “I’m really sorry.”
Nathan muttered something about needing to go. He patted his pocket, feeling for the keys to his car. His face was the color of a ripe tomato. Poor guy.
“You have our numbers, Ms. Fletcher,” he repeated. “Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
By the time his car was out of sight Poppy’s temper toward her mother had cooled slightly. At least enough that she could face her mother without going ballistic. Hindsight showed that would only set her further on edge.
Pushing open the front gate, she walked up the path to the front door. Two bluestone steps led to a wide timber veranda. Yes, it was the perfect spot for two chairs and a little table. The perfect spot to sit and read, or drink her morning coffee. The perfect spot to … She shook her head. She was not staying.
Inside, the house had high ceilings, decorative cornices and polished pine floorboards. It was light and airy and utterly adorable. Exactly the type of house Poppy would have chosen to live in. The strange thing was, it was nothing like the type of house her mother usually chose.
Poppy checked out the rest of the house. The removalists had arrived the day before – they’d driven straight through from Queensland and had dumped the furniture in roughly the right places. Terri was already tearing into boxes mumbling about needing to find her hairdryer of all things.
At her mother’s bidding, Poppy spent the next two hours moving furniture. By seven o’clock she’d had enough and was starving. It was pitch black outside and cold.
“I reckon that’s enough for tonight. Why don’t I drive into town and grab a pizza?”
“I don’t like pizza.”
“Chinese food?”
“No.”
“Fish and chips?”
Terri made an exasperated sound. “We had that yesterday. You decide.”
Poppy grabbed the car keys and was gone before her mother could change her mind.
Chapter 23
“I thought you were Joel for a minute,” Mackenzie said when he saw her at work the next morning.
Liam had just wheeled his first patient of the day into the cubicle. He ran his hands across his newly cropped hair. After seeing Poppy and meeting her mother, he’d made a beeline for the barber. “You think so?”
“Absolutely.” Mackenzie yanked a pair of gloves from the box on the wall. “You look much more like twins now.” She grinned. “So, I hear Poppy’s back in town. Is that the reason for the haircut? Trying to impress her?”
“How on earth do you know that already? And no, the haircut has nothing to do with Poppy,” he lied.
“Her mother’s rented Cooinda from us.”
He stopped what he was doing and stared at her. “Really?”
“Yep. We dropped the price because we couldn’t find anyone happy to live out in the middle of nowhere which, as you know, is crazy because it’s not that far out of town and the house itself is gorgeous.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that Poppy had rented it?”
“I had no idea until last night and it was too late to call you. Nath said Poppy’s mother’s a real whack job.”
Liam flinched. It wasn’t like Mackenzie to be so judgmental.
“She’s clearly got some mental health issues,” he agreed. “Do you know if Poppy plans to stay too?”
Mackenzie’s face fell. “Unfortunately for you, no. She told Nath she’s only here until her mother gets settled.”
“Fair enough.”
Mackenzie narrowed her gaze. “Have you asked her to stay?”
“Not yet. Give me time. Anyway, let me give you a handover on this gentleman,” he said, indicating the man on the stretcher who was taking in their conversation with flapping ears.
“Don’t think you’re getting out of this conversation that easily,” Mackenzie said with a laugh. She tapped the man’s leg. “Mr. Davis here is a frequent flyer. What is it today, Kevin? Sore back again?” She smiled at Liam. “We’ll talk later.”
“I’m sure we will.”
He had no doubt he’d hear all about it from Mackenzie first, then from Kate and Emma. With the holy trinity of matchmakers conspiring to find him the perfect woman, he didn’t stand a chance.
*
The next morning Poppy woke after the best night’s sleep she’d had since arriving back in Australia. Her room at the back of the little farmhouse was still dark. She stretched and yawned. Her internal body clock had finally fixed itself. She listened but heard nothing. Hopefully that meant her mother was still asleep.
After leaving her mother unpacking boxes the night before, Poppy had driven twenty minutes into town. She had ordered a pizza and while it was being prepared she’d made a quick dash to the supermarket,
grabbing staples. Bread, milk, teabags, toilet paper. And chocolate.
When she returned over an hour and a half later, she’d found her mother, collapsed, fully dressed, asleep on top of her bare mattress. The house was freezing cold. Poppy had rifled through six unlabeled boxes until she found the one with linen. She’d thrown a couple of blankets over her mother, careful not to wake her and gently placed a pillow under her head before standing and watching her sleep. Then she’d turned out the light and gone in search of more linen to make up the spare bed that would be her own for the duration of her stay. By the time she finally ate her pizza, it was cold, but at least the chocolate hit the empty spot that remained. Receiving a sweet message from Liam asking when he could see her again was the highlight of her entire crappy day.
She opened the blinds. Dawn was breaking on the horizon, casting its pale light over everything. Outside her window, a raucous chorus of laughing kookaburras burst into song again. Was that what had woken her? She winced when her feet touched the cold timber floorboards, reminding her she had forgotten to call Nathan about the central heating that didn’t seem to be working. She shivered in the freezing early-morning chill. How would her mother cope with the cold after living most of her life in Queensland?
The sound of breaking glass had Poppy grabbing a thick jumper from her suitcase and tearing from the bedroom. She found her mother unpacking boxes in the kitchen. There was no sign of a broken glass. She shivered again. Was it too early to call Nathan and ask how to turn the heating on? An empty fireplace was screaming out for an open fire and she promised that would be another job – seeing if the house had a wood pile. She rubbed her arms. Maybe she should do that sooner rather than later.
In the kitchen she found partially unpacked cardboard boxes strewn around like Terri had opened every one and half emptied it before moving to the next. There was no order or pattern to the unpacking. A chill of a different kind raced up and down Poppy’s spine and the hairs on her arms reared up. Had her mother slept? If not, that was not a good sign.
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