Talk of the Town

by Rachael Johns

  She wouldn’t call any of this junk like Archie had but sorting through the treasure trove would be a mammoth task. It might be easier to hire a spirit medium to come take a look around her house, but she had absolutely no faith in finding any such person who was authentic. Besides, she had all the time in the world and sorting through this historical gold would be a nice break from the clearing and fixing up at her place.

  ‘Argh!’ She squealed and jumped back as something dropped from the ceiling and onto her shoulder. Archie hadn’t been kidding about the spiders either. She flicked the little black creature off her and aimed the fly spray at it. Once it was drowned, she continued around the room, blasting all the corners and crevices.

  Covering her nose again so as not to inhale the insect killer, Megan opened all the blinds and windows. Leaving anything still breathing to wither up and die, she dashed back to her place for a scented candle and her vacuum cleaner. Only when she went to plug it in did she realise the light bulb wasn’t blown—it hadn’t worked because the electricity wasn’t connected any more.

  Feeling defeated, she lit the candle and then pulled out an old wooden chair, scrutinised it for spiders, sat down and picked up a newspaper off the top of the nearest pile.

  Rose Hill Gazette, 15 February 1969

  Thinking she needed a much earlier edition, she almost discarded the newspaper, but then she realised she had no idea how old her ghost was. Or rather how long ago said ghost had died. She didn’t have a name or anything to go on except that the person had obviously had something to do with the old general store, so she guessed that was where she needed to concentrate her efforts.

  The question was, she thought, as she once again surveyed her surroundings, where the hell was she supposed to start?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lawson rapped on the door of the old general store and then stood back, his stomach churning as he waited for Meg to answer it. He expected to hear Cane bark and then the approach of footsteps, but after the echo of his knock died down he was met with only silence. A tiny part of him felt relieved—he’d attempted to make further contact with Meg but she wasn’t there. Perhaps this was fate’s way of telling him it wasn’t meant to be.

  But a much bigger part of him felt bitter disappointment.

  He’d thought about little but her since driving out of Rose Hill on Saturday afternoon; however, due to a combination of wanting to play things cool and being paralysed with nerves, he’d waited three full days before venturing to Rose Hill again. All the way there he’d been going over and over in his head what he could say to her but the thought had never crossed his mind that Meg might not be here when he arrived.

  Perhaps she’s in the shower and can’t hear me. That prospect brought a visual that left him more hot and bothered than if he were standing out beneath the scorching midday sun. No, if she were in the shower, Cane would still be inside to bark his head off at the sound of an intruder.

  An intruder! Could something bad have happened to her?

  Panic quickened Lawson’s heart rate as he deliberated for all of two seconds before trying the door knob. Finding it locked, he attempted to peer in through the ridiculously dirty glass, but he couldn’t see a damn thing. While he didn’t want to intrude on Meg’s privacy, he ventured further round the side and saw a rusty hatchback sitting out of sight.

  So where is she?

  As his anxiety gathered momentum, he told himself there had to be a simple explanation. She was taking Cane for a walk. In the middle of a hot summer day? Or she was visiting Archie again. But even as he reasoned that, he started having visions of her lying on the floor injured, or worse, having been taken advantage of: a single woman all alone in such a place.

  As he glanced around for something to break a window, he looked down the street and his anxiety eased when he saw the door of the old historical society wide open. He’d been too focused on getting to Meg’s place to notice the open door on his way into town.

  A slow smile spread across his face at the realisation Meg must have taken his suggestion to do some research there. He started jogging across the road towards the building—his worry that something may have happened to her had all but eradicated his nerves and now he just wanted to see that she was okay.

  He found her sitting amongst a pile of old newspapers, books and boxes, so engrossed in whatever she was reading that she didn’t even look up as he arrived in the doorway. A serious expression creased her brow and her long hair was tied up in a ponytail—the first time he’d seen it all off her face, giving him full view of her pale, slender neck. Man, she’s gorgeous. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy to see someone other than Ned. He let out the breath he’d been holding as relief poured through him, but with such relief came the knowledge that opening his heart to someone again would also open him up to the possibility of more loss, more heartache and more grief.

  He barely knew Meg yet already the thought of something bad happening to her terrified him. If he were sensible he’d retreat now—sneak away again without her ever knowing he’d been there. But, as much as he didn’t want to go through the loss of a loved one ever again, spending time with Meg had made him feel more alive than he had in a very long time and he liked the feeling. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his time on earth not living because he was too scared of getting hurt. And he guessed Tab was right—Leah wouldn’t have wanted that either.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Hi, Meg.’

  Her head snapped up and she pressed the faded newspaper against her chest. ‘Oh my goodness. You scared me half to death.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He took a step into the building, which looked like something out of an office horror movie—Revenge of the Dust Motes. ‘I didn’t mean to.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ She didn’t sound disappointed, just surprised.

  ‘I came to help you with your junk.’

  ‘My junk?’

  He silently cursed—Tab would be laughing her head off if she were a fly on the wall right now—and swallowed. She’d been right, the tip idea was ridiculous, but in lieu of a better plan he tried to explain. ‘What I meant was I thought you might like some help with all that clutter on your verandah. I could get rid of most of it for you in a ute load to the tip.’

  ‘Oh.’ She blinked and wiped a hand over her brow. It was stinking hot in there. ‘Thanks. That’s really kind of you.’

  ‘I saw the door open here and guessed you must be doing some research.’ He gestured to the newspaper in her hand. ‘But I can see you’re busy, so if now’s not a good time I can go, or maybe I can clear the rubbish without you.’ Although the latter would defeat the purpose of going on this trip to the tip specifically in order to get to know her better. Realising he was babbling—it had been so much easier talking to Meg when Ned was with him—he shut his mouth and glanced around. In addition to the newspapers and books and stuff there was so much dust, and cobwebs, and a smell that surely couldn’t be good for her health.

  As if reading his mind, she said, ‘I’ve tried to air the place by opening the windows in the mornings and I’ve swept and dusted a bit, but the electricity isn’t connected so I haven’t been able to vacuum and, to be honest, I keep getting distracted by all this information.’ She held the newspaper she’d been reading out to him. ‘Check out some of the articles in here. It’s hard to believe they are describing Rose Hill. It sounds like it was once such a thriving community.’

  He took the newspaper and glanced down at the photos of some local ladies all done up for the races—dresses just past their knees, pearls around their necks and boater hats they were holding tightly to stop from flying off in the breeze. ‘I remember my grandma mentioning that when she was a girl they used to come to Rose Hill for the races every January. Looks like it was lots of fun.’

  ‘Is your grandma still alive?’

  ‘Yep. Although she’s not very well, so she lives in the local nursing home.’ He leaned back against
one of the tables. ‘Have you found anything useful yet?’

  She sighed. ‘If you mean to do with my ghost … not one tiny thing. I decided to start with these old newspapers because I figured if there’d been a tragic accident or a murder, it’d be reported in the local newspaper, but I keep getting distracted by other articles.’

  He forced a laugh, despite the fact the words tragic accident and murder had his mind skipping to Leah. Yep—her death had been all over the papers, but that wasn’t something he liked talking about.

  ‘Far out, it’s hot in here,’ he said, lifting his shirt a little as it was starting to stick to his skin. ‘It feels even hotter than it is outside.’

  ‘I know.’ Meg picked up a bottle beside her and sighed. ‘I’d offer you some water but it looks like I’ve already drunk it all. I’ve been coming in here early in the morning and then leaving when it gets hot the last few days, but I lost track of time today. All this history is fascinating but it’s a massive time-suck.’

  ‘You need a fan in here at least.’

  She shrugged one shoulder. ‘Even if I had one, it wouldn’t be good without electricity.’

  ‘Ah, right.’

  ‘Did you really come all the way over here to help me get rid of my junk?’ she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

  He nodded, suddenly realising he could have used the simple excuse of bringing back her Tupperware.

  ‘Well, in that case,’ she pushed herself to a stand, ‘let’s get out of here.’

  He blinked, way more excited by the prospect of a trip to the tip than he should have been. ‘You’re finished here?’

  ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever be finished, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If you and your ute are available for a tip run, then I’ll be eternally grateful. Who knows how long it’ll take me on my own?’

  ‘The good thing is my ute has air conditioning,’ he told her.

  She half-moaned as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand again. ‘Now you’re talking.’

  As they stepped outside, Meg locked the door behind them and Lawson noticed something was missing. Or rather someone.

  ‘Where’s Cane?’ he asked, surprised he hadn’t noticed the absence of the hyperactive pup before now.

  ‘He’s with Archie,’ she explained. ‘He offered to look after him while I sort through this stuff, so he’s been spending a few hours there the last few days. I think Buster, Archie’s old dog, is secretly becoming quite fond of Cane and he’s definitely teaching him some manners.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I really lost track of time today. Poor Archie. Do you mind if I go grab him now?’

  ‘Of course not. Do you want me to come or shall I start loading the ute?’

  She rubbed her lips together a few moments as if contemplating the options. ‘I’ll walk back with you first and grab some cookies for Archie and then I’ll go get Cane.’

  He nodded and, as they started walking towards the general store, Lawson was all too aware of Meg’s hand swinging beside him. He fought the urge to reach out and hold it.

  ‘Who taught you to cook?’ he asked, in an effort to distract himself. As much as his hormones berated him, he planned on taking things slow with Meg and getting to know her better before complicating their relationship. He didn’t just have himself to think about these days.

  ‘My mum and my Granny Rose. They were always baking something or other. My brother and I would play this game when we walked home from school, trying to guess what Mum would have cooked for afternoon tea. There was always some cake or biscuit or slice. Did your mum cook?’

  ‘Of course.’ He smiled, thinking fondly of his mother. ‘She was your typical country farmer’s wife—she was busy from before dawn till after dusk. She worked on the dairy with Dad, volunteered on every local committee, looked after us and still managed to have a clean house and a home-cooked meal on the table every night. I blame her for the fact I’m totally hopeless in the kitchen.’

  ‘You can’t cook?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. I make a mean beans on toast, my cheese jaffles are to die for and, unless you’re a fussy Irish bugger, I’m great on the barbecue too.’

  ‘Fussy Irish bugger?’ she asked, her tone amused.

  He told her about Ethan and the fact he thought Aussies couldn’t barbecue to save their lives.

  ‘He sounds like quite a character.’

  ‘That is an understatement,’ he said as they arrived at her place.

  Meg opened the door and the moment they stepped inside they were hit by a waft of cool air. Their gazes met and he raised an eyebrow. These old buildings were built to keep the heat out much better than modern buildings, but this was a different kind of cold and Lawson shivered.

  ‘I honestly believe there’s someone here,’ Meg said on a sigh. ‘I just wish we knew her name at least.’

  ‘We’ll find it,’ he said. It was hard to stand there, feel that presence and not believe. He found himself as curious as Meg. ‘You know, I could ask my grandma if she remembers any tragic deaths in Rose Hill. She’s eighty-four—if it happened in her lifetime I guarantee she’ll know about it, and even if your ghost was before her time, she might have heard of something.’

  ‘Would you?’ She rubbed her hands up and down her arms—they’d gone from sweltering to goose bumps in less than ten seconds. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ The best thing about this idea was that whether or not Gran had any information he’d have the perfect excuse to come back.

  ‘I’ll go get some cookies for Archie and then I’d better collect Cane. Can I get you a cool drink or anything?’

  ‘A glass of water would be great.’

  They went into the kitchen and, while Lawson poured them both drinks from a jug in the fridge, she piled some delicious-smelling chocolate chip cookies into a container. He couldn’t help but inhale deeply at the scent. She caught him, laughed and tossed one through the air towards him.

  ‘Thanks.’ He caught it and took a bite, marvelling that it tasted even better than it smelled. ‘What’s your secret?’ he asked when he’d finished a mouthful.

  She held Archie’s container close to her chest. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The cookies. They look like simple chocolate chip but they taste way better than any cookie I’ve ever had before.’

  She grinned at the compliment and cocked her head to one side. ‘I could tell you but …’

  ‘Then you’d have to kill me?’

  She laughed. ‘Something like that. I’d better get these to Archie.’

  He nodded and resisted the urge to beg her for another. ‘Is everything outside at the end of the verandah for the tip?’

  ‘Yep. I’ve kept anything I think that might be good enough to donate to the Salvos or use here in one of the spare rooms.’

  ‘Righto. I’ll get started then.’

  As Meg headed up the street to collect Cane, Lawson went outside to assess the clutter. Most of it was pieces of broken furniture, rotten rugs and shelving obviously left over from the general store. He was carrying the second load round the house and tossing it onto the back of his ute when she and Cane returned.

  ‘Wow—you work fast,’ she said as Cane yanked on the lead in his efforts to get to him.

  Lawson smiled and placed a three-legged chair on the tray. If he wanted to prolong his time in Meg’s company he should probably be less efficient. ‘Hey there, little guy.’ He bent down and ruffled Cane’s fur as the pup jumped up at his knees. Then he looked back to Meg. ‘Is all this stuff left over from the previous owners?’

  She nodded. ‘I was so eager to move in, I stupidly agreed to clear it all out myself. Of course I didn’t realise just how big a job it was and that all this stuff was hiding just how much the building is in dire need of improvement. Rookie mistake, I guess.’

  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ he said, trying to encourage her.

  She laughed. ‘I like your positive attitude. I also lik
e a challenge. I’ll just tie Cane up while we load the ute.’

  For the next twenty minutes they walked back and forth from the back verandah to his ute carrying armloads of stuff, smiling and making small talk as they passed each other en route. Loading junk onto his ute should not be so much fun—he was almost disappointed when they could no longer fit anything else in.

  And then he remembered he still had the drive to the tip and back to look forward to.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Megan’s hand shook as she clicked her seatbelt into place. What was she thinking spending time alone with Lawson? The heat had gone to her head and, if she were honest, the idea of a little bit of human company after all that history stuff had been too good to resist. A little voice in her head asked her if she’d feel the same if the company was Adeline’s, but she told said voice to take a hike.

  It soon became apparent that her nerves at being alone with Lawson in the confined space of his ute were unwarranted. For one, it was only a ten-minute drive to the tip, which he told her was located almost exactly in the middle of the three towns that made up the shire of Walsh—not that Rose Hill classified as a town any more. For two, Cane sat squished between them as chaperone and ‘sat’ wasn’t really the right word. He bounced around so much Megan worried he might wet himself with the excitement of a new adventure. For three, they managed to find plenty to talk about, starting with her teasing him about his music tastes. The moment he’d turned the key in the ignition, the Dixie Chicks blasted from the stereo and it was on a CD, not the radio.

  ‘Nothing wrong with country music,’ he argued, as, still laughing, she’d rifled through his glovebox to find a whole host of similar CDs, many of which were bands she’d never heard of. She wondered if they’d been favourites of his wife.