‘When did she die?’
‘When she was twenty-five.’
Imogen blinked. She hadn’t been expecting that.
‘She died giving birth to Gibson’s father, Harry. If we were in the city maybe someone could have saved her, although maybe not. Sixty years ago, medical miracles weren’t as common as they are now.’
A lump formed in Imogen’s throat. She wanted to reach out, squeeze Charlie’s hand and tell him about Jamie, share it with someone who would understand her pain more than anyone else she knew. But something stopped her. She didn’t want to make this about her when Charlie so obviously wanted to talk.
‘What was she like?’ she asked instead.
Charlie grinned again. ‘She was a firecracker – in looks as well as personality. Her hair was even redder than yours.’
Imogen absentmindedly twisted some strands around her index finger.
‘I came to Gibson’s Find as a young teacher, full of ideals about moulding the next generation. Elsie was a cocky’s daughter through and through. She had two young sisters at the school, and although she believed in their education – or so she said – the farm always came first. Her mother died young – giving birth to the third sister – and Elsie became a surrogate parent.’
He paused and smiled wistfully before continuing. ‘Often she’d get her sisters to school late, sometimes she wouldn’t even bother at all. She thought they were needed more on the farm. It really bugged me.’
‘So, it wasn’t love at first sight, then?’
Charlie snorted. ‘It was pure irritation as first sight, that’s what it was. She’d waltz into the schoolroom in trousers and boots and a man’s shirt like she owned the joint. I wanted to have words with her about her lack of regard for her sisters’ education, but I’d barely ever seen a woman in pants before. Got me tongue-tied and flustered every time I saw her. I hated her for it.’
He blushed a little at the recollection and Imogen smiled, waiting for him to share more.
‘One Friday, after the girls hadn’t been in school all week, I decided to go out to Roseglen – that’s the family farm, named after Elsie’s parents – and have it out with her.’
‘Good for you. Education is important.’
Charlie snorted again. ‘I guess it is, but Elsie quickly changed my views on a lot of things. By the time I rode my bike out there – fifteen k’s, mind you – I was sweaty and aggro and ready to have words with her.’
He paused while Cal delivered two mugs filled with steaming coffee to the table. Imogen thanked her and then wrapped her hands around the mug, eager to hear more. Jenna had called her a soppy, hopeless romantic on more than one occasion, and there was more than a little truth to the accusation.
While Imogen sipped, Charlie continued, almost as if he were reminiscing to himself.
‘I arrived at the homestead to find Elsie bent over the rear end of a sheep, her hands stuck up its backside, tugging away like the animal had eaten a gold nugget and she needed to pull it out.’
Imogen giggled at Charlie’s description.
‘It was a pet sheep, apparently.’ He shook his head. ‘Somehow it had gotten in with the rams and gotten itself pregnant. Elsie’s little sisters were running back and forth from the house bringing cold cloths to lie upon the ewe’s head. It was as bizarre a sight as ever I’d seen. Elsie was talking to the old girl like she was a human in labour.
‘Well, I just stood there like a stunned mullet – I’d completely forgotten why I’d come and was mesmerised by the first birth I’d ever been privy to. After a while, she looked up, sweat covering her rosy-cheeked face. She blew some tearaway hair out of her eyes and glared at me. “If you’re going to stand there staring, the least you could do is lend a hand. Lord knows there aren’t many uses for a man, but this baby’s stuck and I could do with a bit of strength to pull her out.”‘ Charlie chuckled to himself.
Imogen could almost guess what was coming next.
‘We got it out too,’ Charlie said, pride shining through his words, even all these years later. ‘Elsie checked the wee lamb over and when she was satisfied it was breathing, she laid it down next to its mother. Then she turned back to me, placed her bloodstained hands against my clean-shirted arms, leaned forward and kissed me. On the lips!’
Charlie turned the colour of a fire engine, all the way up his sideburns.
‘Ooh,’ said Imogen, tickled by the thought. She couldn’t imagine his grandson ever getting so flustered over a woman, especially not decades after the event.
‘And when she’d finished – kissing me, that is – she looked right into my eyes and said, “Well, I may have just found another good use for a man.” Then she kissed me again.’
Imogen pressed her hand against her heart. ‘So it was love at first kiss, then?’
‘Aye, it definitely was.’ Charlie sighed. ‘Once I’d experienced the magic of those lips, nothing else seemed to matter anymore. And I certainly didn’t want any other man laying a claim on her.’
He dug his wallet out of his pocket and opened it to a black-and-white photo of the most naturally beautiful woman Imogen had ever seen. She was incredibly tall and wiry, and freckles spattered her cheeks, which she could tell, despite the lack of colour in the photo, were as rosy as beetroots. Imogen had never seen the resemblance between Gibson and Charlie and now she understood why. Gibson was the image of his grandmother – same eyes, same wry smile, even the same stance.
‘I haven’t got many, but this one’s my favourite.’
Imogen took her time to admire the photo. ‘She’s beautiful.’
She thought of her photos of Jamie – placed strategically throughout her apartment so she’d never have to go more than a few hours without seeing him. Her eyes stung with threatened tears. Would she be the same as Charlie when she was in her eighties? Fifty years was a very long time to be alone.
She had to think of something else to say before she became a blubbering mess. ‘So, when did you give up teaching?’
Charlie had already told her he spent most of his adult years on the family crop and sheep farm, only moving into town a few years back when the homestead grew too small – whatever that meant.
‘I handed in my notice within two weeks of Elsie’s kiss. After that I worked with Elsie on the farm and it just felt right. Like what I was born to do. Her sisters married other local farmers, her dad died of his broken heart and we worked together as partners. She didn’t even slow down when she got pregnant with Harry.’
He paused for a moment and Imogen saw him swallow.
‘I never imagined childbirth would take her. Losing her was the biggest shock of my life.’
Imogen closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. ‘I know,’ she whispered, without meaning to.
When she opened her eyes, Charlie was staring at her, a hundred questions lingering in his eyes. ‘Who did you lose?’
Her turn to swallow, but no amount of swallowing would eliminate the golf ball in her throat. ‘My husband, Jamie,’ she said eventually. ‘The love of my life, too.’ Maybe it sounded dramatic but it was the truth. She knew Charlie understood.
‘When?’
‘Two and half years ago.’ She didn’t offer the exact calculations, even though she still ticked each day off in her mind. ‘He was a firefighter. He died rescuing a young girl during a bushfire.’ She shuddered – there was no way she’d ever get over the horror. ‘But I don’t want anyone here to know,’ she added, emerging from her reverie. ‘Please don’t tell anyone, not even Gibson.’
Especially not Gibson. She couldn’t bear him changing his grumpy tune and forcing niceties just because he felt sorry for her.
‘Coming here was my fresh start,’ she explained. ‘I need to be my own person and I don’t want everyone thinking they already know me. It may sound crazy, but it’s the way I want it to be.’
Charlie nodded. ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’
A slightly awkward silence reigned betwee
n them for a few moments – as if they were both unsure whether they should have shared so much – then Imogen remembered why she’d sought Charlie out in the first place.
‘Cal and Pauli had an idea and I wanted your thoughts.’
Charlie adjusted his hat and cocked his head to one side, waiting.
‘Themed food nights,’ she announced. When his expression remained blank, she elaborated, explaining everything her staff had proposed.
He pondered the idea a while, then leaned forward and clasped his hands together. ‘I think it could work. Lord knows the blokes round here like a good meal. But how about we do a trial run?’
She hoped he wasn’t about to suggest Gibson as one of the taste-testers.
‘Have you thought any more about my idea of a slab party?’
Imogen bit her lower lip. ‘Yes, I just don’t feel very comfortable asking people. And I do have money, it’ll just take time to organise and schedule tradesmen.’
Charlie dismissed her reasoning with a wave of his hand. ‘This is the country, woman. People in the bush like lending a hand. And if you offer free food and booze to a select group – I can help you sort out the riffraff – then you don’t need to feel guilty. You’re giving them something in return.’
She glanced around the pub, cataloguing all the jobs that needed to be done – jobs that could be done quite easily and quickly with a few tools and willing bodies. Then she could leave her funds for the bigger renovations. ‘You think people would go for that?’
‘Honey, the boys round here will be running each other down in their utes to help you.’ Charlie grinned and his eyes almost twinkled. ‘You just say the word and I’ll get the ball rolling.’
It was a win-win situation. Pauli and Cal could test out the new food, and once the work was done, it’d be free drinks for everyone. ‘The word,’ Imogen said, thinking this was something she didn’t need to think about at all.
She and Charlie chose a weekend – two weeks away, to give everyone plenty of notice – and started planning which VIP handymen to invite. Charlie rattled off names, most of which were unfamiliar, telling her who would be useful to have around and to whom they’d need to give the easy jobs. Apparently Gibson was very good with his hands, and Charlie seemed to think he’d be more than willing to help out.
Imogen didn’t want to think about Gibson’s hands and she didn’t like to burst the old man’s bubble either, but she’d bet The Majestic on the fact his beloved grandson would rather pick lice off sheep with a pair of tweezers than lend her a hand.
That night, Gibson hit the bar at his usual time.
Imogen noticed him the moment he walked in the door. His eyes sought hers, then quickly looked away. She wanted to kick something. While her hormones had a happy party without her every time he came within twenty metres, Gibson appeared to find even being in the same space as her suffocating.
Aside from his irritating good looks, dedication to his grandfather was the only good Imogen could see in Gibson Black. She’d spent more time than she cared to admit trying to work out what the hell his story was. And whether he had a girlfriend stashed away somewhere. She could ask Charlie, but she didn’t want him to think she was interested. Which she wasn’t. Curiosity just happened to be her middle name, and Gibson was a mystery begging to be solved.
As Charlie made a beeline for his grandson, the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding eased out. He clearly looked forward to these daily visits, and she knew Charlie was the only reason Gibson ever came in. The times he talked with Charlie were also the only times he bothered with a smile.
To take her mind off him, Imogen took the chance to ring her friends while Gibson sat at the bar and Cal and Charlie held the fort.
Tonight, Jenna was even more excitable than normal because she’d been doing serious research. ‘Hey babe,’ Jenna answered. ‘Did you get my email?’
Imogen glanced towards her computer screen from where she was, leaning back in her swivel chair. ‘When’d you send it?’
‘Oh, only about half an hour ago. I’ve been looking into our little problem and I think we can get you a real good deal, delivered to your door. I sent you a selection.’
After a few days of deep consideration, and those irritating urges whenever Gibson Black ventured into the pub, Imogen had finally solicited Jenna’s help with The Vibrator Acquisition.
Barely able to believe what she was contemplating, and with Jenna still on the line, Imogen opened her email and her eyes boggled – not only at the prices but also the colours, shapes and sizes.
‘Well?’ Jenna asked after a few moments’ silence. ‘See anything you like?’
‘Um …’ Jenna would be disappointed if Imogen backed out now. ‘I’ll have to give it some thought.’ Quite frankly, it was hard to imagine sharing her bedroom – never mind her bed – with any of those things. ‘Anyway,’ she said, changing the subject before Jenna could nag her to make a hasty decision, ‘you know how you and Amy have been talking about coming up for a weekend before the baby arrives?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Are you free the first weekend in March? Amy says she’s in if you’ll drive.’
‘Hell yeah,’ Jenna replied, adding a whoop. ‘I’ll make sure I’m free. But I hope you’ve ordered in some better champagne since we were last there.’
‘Of course,’ Imogen said, feigning indignation. ‘Just don’t get a manicure the day before; this is going to be a working weekend.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jenna asked.
‘I’m throwing a slab party.’
‘A what?’
Imogen laughed. ‘That was my reaction too when Charlie first mentioned it. Apparently it’s a party where everyone brings a slab of beer to celebrate a new house or something, but his idea is a little different. We’re going to ask the locals to help with some of the pub renovations, and in return I’ll provide the beer for a party at night. Sound like fun?’
‘That depends on your definition of fun,’ Jenna replied.
Imogen laughed again. ‘Hopefully, by the end of the weekend, most of the minor tasks will be done and I’ll be able to focus on promoting the pub to a wider clientele.’
Jenna was silent for a moment. ‘So there’ll be lots of hot blokes there?’
Imogen rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. Jenna was nothing if not predictable. ‘Yes. Hopefully. With any luck it’ll be stinking hot and they may even have to work without their shirts on.’
‘Ooh,’ Jenna murmured appreciatively.
Imogen pushed aside the thought that immediately jumped into her mind – Gibson Black without his shirt on. Luckily she wouldn’t be subjected to that. There wasn’t any danger of him joining the party.
That settled, she said goodbye to Jenna, hung up and then peered out at the bar. Gibson was gone, so it was safe. She served a couple of guys and chatted about their work on the mine. One even offered to take her out on his RDO and show her round the site. But as interesting as the idea sounded, she got the distinct impression the guy meant it to be a date, and that wasn’t going to happen.
Despite enjoying herself, the night dragged. The stream of men to the bar was steady, but the pub wasn’t what you’d call busy. Even Charlie looked weary earlier than usual, so she convinced him to take an early mark at ten o’clock. An hour and a half later, when she and the girls had farewelled the stragglers, collected the dirty glasses and finished cleaning up, Imogen could have curled up under her desk in the downstairs office.
Her limbs ached and she didn’t think she had the energy to climb to the stairs to her apartment. Reviving the old place and increasing turnover wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d first assumed.
Being her own boss was already taking its toll.
Chapter Six
If there was one thing more irritating than a female intent on fixing a pub that didn’t need fixing, it was a female who refused to leave his head. And Imogen Bates was proving to be one such female.
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br /> They’d barely spoken since the morning Gibson had interrupted her run, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t interacted. Every time he went to the pub they exchanged glances, longer than the average hello-and-how’s-your-father, glances that oozed meaning despite their frosty facade. Wherever he went, he thought about her bright eyes, perky physique and feisty personality. He’d never admit it to Guy or Wazza, but he was damn attracted to the woman. He had no intention of acting on his feelings – he could write a book of reasons why he shouldn’t – but it didn’t stop him anticipating his daily visit.
Once upon a time, Charlie was the sole reason for going there, but he’d be lying if he said that was still the case. Sometimes he spent the whole day checking his watch, counting down the hours until he could head into town for a quick fix of the new publican.
As he moved mobs of sheep from one paddock to another, he pondered his dilemma. When his parents had moved to the city, he promised them that he’d keep an eye on Charlie. For the most part, Charlie didn’t need watching, but he had been getting a bit forgetful the last couple of months.
Jack and Jill worked the sheep ahead of him – so competent he barely had to shout any instructions – and a thought struck him. It was his quiet season. He wasn’t shearing or crutching, not harvesting or seeding. What was to say he had to visit Charlie in the evening?
When he’d started his visits a couple of years back, evenings had been the obvious option. He’d been seeding at the time and could only fit a visit in after work. Besides, it had been his first year as a bachelor again and going home at night to an empty house – a massive reminder of his personal failings – hadn’t been appealing. In the pub’s jovial atmosphere, and with the help of the odd beer, it had been easy to forget his woes.
But he’d moved on now. He’d grown accustomed to the quietness and peace at home. Not being nagged about leaving your socks and jocks lying around was only one of the benefits of divorce. Now there was nothing to stop him visiting Charlie at home during daylight hours.
Man Drought Page 7
