At that moment, she heard a noise out front and guessed it was Archie with her morning delivery of eggs. Although it went against all their unspoken rules, she hurried down the hallway and opened the door to see the old man and his black and white dog strolling back down the street.
‘Archie!’ she called, as her own dog darted out the open door and started towards them. She cursed and ran after him, glad she’d bothered to change out of her pyjamas.
He turned as she approached and his weathered mouth split into a grin. ‘Well, hello there, missy,’ he said, looking down at Cane, who was invading the old dog’s personal space. ‘And who is this?’
‘Hi, sorry,’ she panted as she grabbed Cane by his collar and scooped him off the ground. ‘This is my dog, Cane. I got him yesterday.’
‘Hello, little fella.’ Archie reached out to rub the puppy’s ears.
‘Thanks for the eggs. I really appreciate them.’
‘Well.’ Archie patted his near-flat stomach. ‘I appreciate the cakes.’
Megan smiled. ‘I was wondering if you’d mind doing me a favour? You see, I need to get some groceries and things but I don’t want to leave Cane home alone.’
‘You want me to dog-sit?’ Archie’s lips quirked up in obvious amusement.
She nodded sheepishly, knowing it was a lot to ask a stranger. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can, but it’s too hot to leave him in the car while I shop.’
‘Of course.’ He nodded and glanced down at his own dog. ‘We’d love to look after the little tacker, wouldn’t we, Buster? Do you want to bring him round to my place when you’re ready? I’ll make sure the chickens are locked in their pen.’
Relief flooded Megan that he hadn’t suggested dog-sitting at her place. ‘Thank you. I will. And good idea re the chickens.’
The arrangements made, Archie and Buster headed back up the road to the servo and Megan retreated into her house with Cane to make a shopping list.
At ten o’clock she clicked the leash onto Cane’s collar and went outside to attempt their first walk. He tugged and pulled, darting in and out of her legs and wrapping the leash around them both, turning what should have been a two-minute walk into a ten-minute one.
At the roadhouse, she found Archie outside doing something with one of the pumps. It was the first time she’d seen any signs of life out the front, but then again, when she went for her run she always went the other way, and the rest of the time she spent inside or out the back of her house.
She felt a slight tremor in her stomach as Archie glanced up, stopped what he was doing and waved.
‘Ah, my little charge is here. I must admit I’m quite excited.’ The warmth in his voice helped to eradicate some of her unease. Besides, just because they were being neighbourly didn’t mean they had to have deep and meaningful conversations.
‘Thank you so much for doing this,’ she said as he held out his hand to take the leash, Cane bouncing around on the end of it like an out-of-control yo-yo.
‘No worries.’
‘Is there anything I can get for you while I’m in town?’
Archie rubbed the side of his beard a moment. ‘I could do with a few more packets of two-minute noodles. Chicken flavour. And a couple of litres of milk. I’ll go grab you some money.’
‘No, don’t worry it.’ Megan waved her hand in dismissal. ‘I’ll get them for you—consider it payment for dog-sitting.’
Archie winked. ‘Deal.’
‘Well. I guess I’ll be off. I hope he behaves himself.’
He scooped Cane up into his arms and rubbed his head with his stubbly chin. ‘I don’t think puppies are supposed to behave.’
Megan laughed. ‘If last night and this morning are anything to go by, I think you’re right. I’ll see you when I get back.’
As Megan neared the town of Walsh, her hands shook on the steering wheel. If it weren’t for Cane, she’d have gone to Bunbury instead. But, not wanting to leave him with Archie too long, she swallowed her ridiculous paranoia that someone might recognise her. So far, she’d made acquaintances with both Lawson and Archie and neither of them had shown any signs of recognition. It wasn’t like she was a TV star or anyone famous—maybe the media attention had been limited to Victoria, where her grandfather was best known.
Not wanting to think about media or the family that had disowned her, she focused on her surrounds, trying to pretend she was just an ordinary girl heading to the shops. About three times the size of the Rose Hill town site, Walsh was a beautiful, quaint little place—still relatively green, due to its southerly location, despite the time of year. Here the buildings had been looked after and she could only see one empty shop. Large painted wooden cows on either side of the road welcomed visitors and invited them to sample the local dairy produce. Megan couldn’t help thinking of Lawson as she glanced at the passing cars and pedestrians strolling along either side of the street.
Of course he wasn’t the only dairy farmer in the region, but he was the only one she knew, and the thought of possibly running into him both excited and terrified her.
With that thought, she parked her car near the IGA, took a deep breath and climbed out. She walked towards the entrance, holding her head high and her shoulders back, trying to carry herself like somebody who didn’t have a ridiculous paranoia of strangers recognising them, somebody who had no past indiscretions to be ashamed of and just wanted to buy some damn groceries. As much as she wanted to walk up and down the aisles wearing her sunglasses like some kind of celebrity incognito, she pushed them up on top of her head and grabbed a trolley.
‘Hi there.’ An indigenous woman, with one kid in a pram and another one hanging onto her bright summer dress, smiled.
Her chirpy greeting almost made Megan jump out of her skin. Not wanting to appear rude and draw attention to herself, she forced a smile and managed a ‘hello’ in return as she pushed off down the first aisle. Thursday must be pension day, for there seemed to be people everywhere—far too many for a supposedly small town. And everyone else was just as friendly as the first woman—smiling and nodding hellos—so that she began to wonder about the logic of moving to the country. She’d thought she could hide out in deserted Rose Hill while things settled down, while people forgot, but maybe she’d have been better off in another city. Nobody noticed newcomers in the big smoke.
Moving as quickly as she could, she threw items into her trolley until she could fit nothing else and then headed for the front of the shop, where there were only three checkouts.
‘Hey. How are ya?’ asked the girl behind the counter as Megan began unloading her trolley.
‘Good thanks,’ she said, admiring the girl’s bright pink hair and matching nose ring.
‘You new to town?’
‘Just passing through,’ Megan said, not wanting anyone else to know she lived in Rose Hill.
The girl nodded towards her full trolley. ‘You’ve got a lot of stuff for someone just passing through.’
She smiled politely. ‘I’m buying some things for a friend as well.’
‘I see.’ Thankfully the checkout assistant was quiet for a while as she scanned the next few items, but when she came to the long-life milk cartons, she looked up in horror. ‘You shouldn’t buy UHT. Not when our local dairy farmers are struggling so much at the moment. We need to support the industry—buy fresh, buy local.’
Isn’t that real milk as well? Doesn’t it also come from cows? But, not wanting to get into a debate about farming practices with this woman, Megan picked up the six litres of fresh stuff she’d also bought—two for Archie, the rest for herself—and placed it on the checkout. ‘I thoroughly agree, but I don’t have room in my fridge to store all the milk I need.’
The woman raised an eyebrow. ‘You drink a lot?’
‘I cook a lot.’ And shop as little as possible, thanks to nosy parkers like you.
‘Fair enough.’ She seemed content with this response and went back to scanning and packing, while Megan finished unlo
ading. But she spoke again when she noticed a large bag of puppy biscuits. ‘Ooh, have you got a puppy?’
‘Yes.’ Megan silently urged the woman to hurry the hell up.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ said a voice from behind her.
Megan turned to see a tall pretty blonde in fashionable denim shorts and a pale pink polo shirt smiling at her.
‘Did I hear you’ve got a puppy?’ She continued before Megan had a chance to confirm this. ‘I run puppy-training classes at the local vet every Saturday morning. You should bring your baby along.’
‘She doesn’t live here,’ said the shop assistant. ‘She’s just passing through.’
‘What a pity.’ The woman sighed and then returned her attentions to her phone, which suited Megan just fine. All this inquisitive small talk was making her nervous.
‘That’ll be four hundred and twenty-three dollars and fifty-two cents,’ stated the checkout girl once she’d tossed the last packet of two-minute noodles into a bag. ‘Will you be putting that on your card?’
‘No. I’ve got cash.’ No way Megan was handing over a bank card with her real name on it. She couldn’t be too careful, which was why she’d taken a few thousand dollars out of her account before moving to Rose Hill.
The woman raised her eyebrows as Megan handed over nine fifty-dollar notes and then counted it carefully before entering the amount into the till. She handed Megan her change, smiled and said, ‘I’ll just call Troy over to help you out to your car.’
It was on the tip of Megan’s tongue to refuse assistance—she’d had enough exhausting small talk for one day—but she had a lot of bags and refusing help might make her seem weird. And weird solicited speculation, which she definitely did not want, so she smiled politely and said, ‘Thank you.’
To her relief, Troy—a tall, lanky guy with bad acne who looked as if he should still be in school—wasn’t a big talker: he loaded the bags into the back of her car without uttering a word.
Megan thanked him as he took her trolley, then she closed the boot and escaped back into her car. She slammed the door behind her and leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes for a moment to catch her breath. Whoever thought shopping could be so nerve-racking? She wasn’t doing anything illegal but these days just going out in public made her feel like a criminal.
‘But you did it,’ she said as she started the car and allowed herself a small smile. You spoke to people and nobody pointed their fingers or looked at you like you killed kittens for a hobby. Progress. Victory. Maybe she wouldn’t have to go to Bunbury every time she needed bread or milk.
As she reversed out the car park, her gaze caught on the sign for the café across the road. Her tastebuds watered at the thought of going in and sitting down, ordering a proper coffee and flicking through a magazine or something as she drank it. Such a normal thing to do, which felt like such a luxury to her. But would that be pushing her luck?
Remembering Cane back in Rose Hill made the decision for her. She needed to get back and relieve Archie. With a wistful glance at the café, she drove back out of town.
Chapter Seven
On the first Sunday of every month the Walsh Country Markets were held in the car park of the IGA, which of course didn’t open on the Sabbath. Not that religion had anything to do with the opening hours of the town’s shops—unless you classed sport as a religion, which most of the locals did. The markets, an initiative thought up by Adeline to showcase the town’s talents and produce, were always well attended by residents and tourists alike and, if the vehicles lining the main street were anything to go by, this weekend had drawn the usual crowd.
Lawson parked his ute about half a kilometre up the road and went in search of Tabitha and Ned, who’d been in town early setting up her ice-cream stall. Once a month on market days, Funky came over to help Ethan with the milking so Lawson could do the calves and Tab could get into town. The youngest of five, Funky had chosen to become a builder more because there wasn’t a job for him on the family farm than because he didn’t love the lifestyle, so he was more than happy to help Lawson out whenever the need arose.
‘Long time no see,’ called a voice from behind him as he followed the noise of many voices and a local band up the road towards the markets.
Lawson turned to see Funky catching up. Speak of the devil. ‘You didn’t mention you were heading into the markets,’ he said, as his best mate slapped him on the back.
‘Gotta help man the sausage sizzle,’ Funky explained and then inhaled deeply. ‘And perhaps eat half a dozen while I’m there as well. Milking is hungry work.’
Lawson chuckled, his stomach rumbling at the thought of food. His morning Weetbix was hours back now and there was just something alluring about the aroma of freshly barbecued sausages and fried onions slapped on a slice of white bread. ‘I’ll come with you and get one for Tab and Ned too.’
The guys followed their noses to the sausage sizzle stall, run by the local firefighters, for whom Funky was a volunteer. In fact, half the men (and women) they’d gone to school with volunteered for the fire brigade, the SES or the St Johns ambulance sub-centre. Volunteering was just the way in small rural communities. Lawson had been a firie years ago, but he’d had to quit when Leah died because between Ned and the dairy he didn’t have time for anything else. Also, he didn’t want to leave Ned unnecessarily or put himself in danger’s way; the kid didn’t need to lose another parent. When Ned was older he’d volunteer again but for now he supported local causes by contributing to their fundraisers.
‘Morning, boys.’ Macca, a shire councillor, owner of the local agricultural supplies store and captain of the fire brigade, brandished a barbecue utensil in their general direction.
Beside him, his wife Suzie whipped off her apron and tossed it at Funky. ‘Put this on, and then get behind here and make yourself useful. I want to go and check out the stalls.’
Funky caught the apron, held it up and read the writing on the front—I’m still hot, it just comes in flashes now. He raised his eyebrows, then shrugged and put it on anyway. It wouldn’t be wise to argue with Suzie. As she headed off to look around, he helped himself to a bread roll, shoved in a sausage and took a bite.
Meanwhile Macca grinned at Lawson. ‘What can I get for you this fine morning?’
Lawson dug his wallet out of his back pocket and gestured to the sausages. ‘I’ll take three, please?’
‘How’s things with you and young Ned?’ the older man asked as he got to work fixing the order.
‘Yeah, good,’ Lawson said. ‘Can’t complain.’
‘’Tis true: no one listens anyway.’
They made small talk about the heat wave and how one had to be extra vigilant with livestock this time of year, and then Lawson thanked Macca for the food.
His hands full, he nodded farewell to his friend. ‘See ya round.’
Already on his second sausage, Funky waved and spoke through a mouthful of food. ‘Bye.’
‘And don’t eat all the profits.’ Lawson called as he started towards Tab’s ice-cream stall.
The various stalls were loosely categorised with food produce on one side of the car park and the arts, crafts and non-food items on the other side. In the middle there were some plastic chairs and tables for folks to sit and chat and a temporary stage set up on which the high school band played their unique blend of rock, pop and country music. It should have only taken Lawson about ten seconds to walk over to his family but stopping to talk to all the locals slowed him down.
‘They better be for us,’ Tab said, nodding towards the sausage sizzles in Lawson’s hands when he finally arrived.
‘Hey, Dad.’ Ned glanced up briefly from where he was manning the money tin.
‘I hope they’re not too cold,’ Lawson said as he passed Tab and Ned theirs and then finally took a bite of his own.
Tab shrugged. ‘Still tastes good.’
‘You been busy?’ Lawson asked before taking another bite.
‘W
e’ve been so busy, Dad—we’ve already sold out of salted caramel and popcorn.’
Tab nodded, a proud smile twisting her lips. ‘And my new chocolate-orange flavour is proving to be a big hit too.’
Lawson wrapped an arm round Tabitha’s shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze. ‘That’s awesome. I’m proud of you two.’
She’d saved hard to buy a refrigerated van and portable display cabinet so she could sell ice-cream at the markets and other local events. She definitely had a talent and, although he might be a little biased, the judges at the previous year’s Royal Show had agreed. She’d taken out a top prize against some established ice-creameries and Lawson couldn’t have been happier for her. After everything she’d been through, she deserved all her success.
‘How were my babies this morning?’ she asked, but a woman with two little kids yanking at her clothes came up to the stand before he could reply. Tab transformed before his eyes from little sister to savvy businesswoman. ‘Would you like to try a sample?’ she asked the trio.
The kids’ eyes lit up. ‘Can we, Mummy?’
‘Of course.’ The woman looked to Tabitha. ‘We’re staying in Harvey with my parents for the weekend and they’ve been raving about your ice-cream so we came all the way here to try it for ourselves.’
‘We’re sold out of salted caramel and popcorn,’ Ned said, his expression solemn and apologetic, ‘but I can recommend the Lolly Mayhem. It has popping candy that explodes in your mouth!’
While Tabitha and Ned took care of their customers, Lawson stepped back and ate his sausage, surveying the scene around them. For a small country town, they had almost everything covered here—you could buy fresh honey, homemade jams, local cheeses and meats, handmade clothes and jewellery, bric-a-brac, candles, funny wooden signs and paintings, just to name a few. He saw an elderly woman sitting at a table in front of the CWA stall a few metres away with an old black Labrador lounging at her feet and his thoughts immediately journeyed to Meg, wondering how she was going with her puppy. The whole idea behind giving her the dog was that it would set his mind at ease and stop him worrying about her being all alone out there in Rose Hill, but it hadn’t exactly worked as planned.
Talk of the Town Page 8
