by Fiona Lowe
‘Poor kid,’ he said, dropping his volume. ‘There’s a lot of it about. I’ll do my best to be quiet but plumbing can be noisy.’
She recalled how easily he’d spoken to Noah at the farm gate and found herself checking his left hand for a wedding band before remembering that for tradies, a ring was often an OH&S hazard.
She was about to ask him if he had kids when they reached the kitchen and Luke gave a low whistle.
‘Things are a bit damp,’ he said, squatting down and fingering the flaking pipe. ‘At least it wasn’t sewage.’
She shuddered at the thought. ‘Is that plumber psychology to make me feel better before you hit me with the bad news?’
As he swung on his haunches to look at her, a shaft of sunshine caught his hair, lighting it up like a white flare on a dark night. ‘Is it working?’
Something about his expression and the tone of his voice made her face heat in a way it hadn’t done in years. She hid behind the coffee cup and drained the contents.
‘How bad is it?’
‘The pipe’s cactus.’
‘But you can replace it?’
‘Technically.’ He pushed to his feet in one fluid movement before walking into the bathroom.
She followed, trying not to notice the way his blue work pants moved across his behind, leaving little to the imagination. She wasn’t a woman who covertly checked out men. Hell, she didn’t check men out period. ‘That doesn’t sound very reassuring.’
He studied the rust stains on the porcelain and grimaced. ‘I need to get under the house.’
‘Really?’ She shuddered again, only this time it was because of spiders and rats. And snakes. Although technically if there were snakes there wouldn’t be many rats but still …
He laughed at her expression. ‘It’s okay, Ellie. You don’t have to come under the house with me.’
He sidled past her and she instinctively stepped back. She’d been giving men a wide berth for years. Anything to minimise the chance of an accidental touch—or otherwise—down to zero. But, used to sharing the bathroom with just a seven-year-old rather than a broad-shouldered plumber, she miscalculated her position. The backs of her knees slammed into the edge of the bath and buckled. She toppled backwards.
‘Oh!’ Flinging out an arm to balance herself, she grabbed thin air. For a second she teetered—that moment between a semblance of balance and crashing awkwardly to the ground.
Luke’s hands shot out, wrapping themselves firmly around her upper arms and grasping her tightly. His fingers dug painfully into her skin. The quick grab stalled her fall, but the impetus of it shot her forward until she was tilting into him. No! She jerked, throwing her head and shoulders back, desperately trying to stop herself from crashing into his chest.
His arms locked and she swayed. ‘Whoa! Steady, Ellie. I’ve got you.’
And that was the problem. His hands clenched so tightly around her arms they may as well have been steel bands. Panic rose and eddied through her, drying her mouth to desert conditions and flipping her heart rate into the red zone.
He bent his knees and suddenly his clear blue eyes came into focus. ‘You okay? I thought we were both going to end up in the tub. That or your head was going to break my jaw.’
‘Sorry.’ But she wasn’t sorry at all. She only said the word because she needed to reassure him so he’d let her go. ‘I need to sit down.’ He lowered her onto the bath’s edge and the moment he let her go, she crossed her arms in relief. She rubbed where his fingers had been.
‘Hell, did I hurt you? Sorry. I was trying to help.’
She heard contrition in his voice and saw consternation in his expression. She didn’t want to care that her reaction was bothering him. She didn’t want to have to reassure him, especially when she was busy battling to find her centre of calm, but despite that, she mustered up a weak smile. ‘It’s fine. Just a tender spot.’
‘Sorry.’
‘A few bruises are better than a concussion. Thank you.’
‘You’re really pale. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?’
‘Yes!’ It came out too loud and too abrupt but his solicitude was disconcerting. She much preferred flippant Luke and wished he’d replied to her thanks with something like ‘That’s how I roll.’
‘Right then.’ He rubbed the back of his neck as if it was causing him pain. ‘I better get under the house and take a squiz.’
She stayed seated, not risking standing again until after Luke left. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen when you resurface.’ A large room with plenty of space to put between us.
Ten minutes later, Ellie was busy pulling things out of the bottom of the pantry and checking for water damage when she heard the rumble of Luke’s voice outside talking to someone. Peering through the window, she recognised Wendy’s cropped black hair and went to join them.
‘Hi, Ellie.’ Wendy gave her a wan smile. ‘Luke was just explaining things to me.’
Luke, who looked like he was wearing a hundred years’ worth of dust and had filthy grey cobwebs hanging off him, gave her a professional nod. ‘It’s not looking good. Not surprisingly, all the pipes are shot. The pipe to the septic’s so thin it could go at any time.’
‘So you’ll replace them all?’
‘I’d love to, but Helen’s not keen to spend any money on the house.’
‘Well, there’s a surprise,’ Ellie said tartly. ‘But she’s conceded we need a new pipe in the kitchen and one to the septic, right?’
‘She’s pushing for a repair.’
Umbrage simmered in Ellie’s gut. ‘But—’
‘Read this.’ Wendy put a letter into her hand. ‘It was in the PO box this morning.’
Ellie unfolded the page and noted it was from Helen and dated the day before. As she scanned the printed words, her heart sank. ‘It’s an eviction notice.’
Wendy nodded. ‘And because the lease has been month-bymonth for a year now, it’s totally within her rights. Apparently, she’s sold part of the farm to VicRoads for the road widening.’
Ellie turned and gazed at the old orchard behind the house. Trees planted in straight lines decades ago by people now long buried spread their gnarly, lichen-covered limbs towards the sky. An unexpected pain gripped her. ‘Does it include the fruit trees?’
‘Probably. Helen might have grown up on the farm and called it home, but she loves money more than happy memories.’
‘Home doesn’t necessarily mean happy.’ The blunt words slipped out before Ellie realised she’d spoken.
‘Exactly, sister,’ Wendy said emphatically. ‘And you’re preaching to the choir.’
Luke was silent but his questioning gaze was fixed firmly on Ellie. There was something unnerving about the way he looked at her—as if he was seeking answers to unknown questions. The uncomfortable feeling she’d experienced in the bathroom rushed back. She’d spent years trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, and she hated it when people gave her a second glance, let alone studied her. Pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands, she gave in to the urge to disappear behind the baggy top. If only she could bury her face in the material too.
More than anything, she wanted to banish Luke’s gaze. The only way to do that was to cover her gaffe and shift his attention far away from her. ‘I’m sad Helen’s sold this place but I’m hardly surprised. Everyone in the district knows old man Guthrie used to hit first and asked questions later.’
‘Bastard,’ Wendy muttered.
‘Yeah,’ Luke agreed, looking contemplatively at the fruit trees. ‘Scary bastard. He always carried a shotgun.’
‘So, Luke.’ Ellie forced herself to look at him. ‘We’re still here for a bit longer and we need water. How soon can you fix the pipe?’
* * *
‘Mum, you’ll be pleased to know the claws on your brooch have all been checked and repaired. There’s no danger of any diamonds falling out.’
Margaret smiled at her son as he flipped the jewellery box open. She was
dazzled by the brightness. ‘Heavens! They’re sparkling.’
Cameron laughed. ‘Rudi put them in the sonicator to give them a new lease of life. And you’ll love that they’re worth more than the last time they were valued. I rang your insurance company and sent them a copy of the valuation so you’re all sorted. They’ll post you a copy of the updated policy.’
‘Thank you dear,’ she said, still admiring the brooch. ‘I’m surprised they let you do that.’ Who was her insurance company?
‘That’s the beauty of the power of attorney, Mum. Like I explained to you, it’s not just in case you get sick and, God help me, I hope you don’t. The good thing is, it lets me ease your load with things like the insurance. It’s little things like that lawyers charge for.’
‘I’m lucky to have such a thoughtful a son who takes care of his mother.’ She patted his hand before offering him a slice of cake with his tea.
Cameron’s arrival was unexpected and it was fortunate she’d found three slices of passionfruit sponge in the fridge. It was a surprise to see them sitting neatly on a plate, covered in cling wrap, and she assumed they must be leftovers from yesterday’s bridge afternoon, although that was a little strange. For over twenty years, when it was her turn to provide afternoon tea, she’d always served scones. But she must have sensed he was coming, as Cameron had a soft spot for cake.
‘You look after me so well, darling. Your sisters could take a leaf out of your book.’
Cameron nodded and sighed. ‘Another up side of Anita renting the kitchen on Saturdays is Sarah will have to back off about this downsizing nonsense.’
Margaret had no idea what he was talking about, but the thought of leaving her house filled her with an all-encompassing dread. ‘I’m not selling Mill House,’ she said shrilly. ‘I won’t.’
‘And you don’t have to, Mum,’ Cameron said soothingly, his handsome face full of understanding. Sitting directly opposite her at the table and wearing a beautifully tailored suit, he looked and sounded exactly like Kevin …
‘And you don’t have to, Margaret,’ Kevin said wearily, tearing at the knot of his tie. ‘It was just a suggestion. I just thought you might enjoy going out.’
It was their first Friday night in Mingunyah as a married couple. They’d honeymooned on tropical Hayman Island, where Margaret luxuriated in watching and touching her fit and good-looking husband. On the beach, she’d noticed she wasn’t the only person to openly stare at his naked chest but she was the only one with the right to touch him. To slather coconut oil all over his skin and feel the play of muscles underneath it. To use her hands and mouth on him until he was hard. To lower herself over him and feel him bucking underneath her. To have him solely to herself. Every moment of it was worth the long, long wait.
Returning to Mingunyah tanned and relaxed, Margaret intended to be the sort of wife whose opinions were both respected and sought by her husband. She had no intention of continuing to exist on the sidelines of Kevin’s life like she had during their protracted courtship.
‘I enjoy going out, Kevin, and if Gary was dating someone it would be a great idea. But sitting listening to the two of you talk football tactics and statistics all evening isn’t exactly my idea of fun.’
He frowned as if this was news to him but instead of saying, ‘But that’s what you’ve done for two years,’ he said, ‘What about inviting one of your single friends?’
Somehow, he had failed to notice that Margaret didn’t have any single girlfriends. Arriving in Mingunyah single at twenty-six— almost over the hill in 1970s marriage terms—it had been a strategic tactic to only befriend young married women. After all, why add to the competition? And married women wanted nothing more than to match up their single friends so everyone could be as happy as they were. Her bridesmaids, Sylvia and Louise, were both married and a perfect example of this phenomena. Margaret had met Louise first and had subsequently befriended Sylvia when Louise said that Sylvia’s family and the Jamiesons were very close. So close that the town always expected Sylvia and Kevin to marry. One night about two months into the friendship, Margaret mentioned this and Sylvia had laughed uproariously.
‘Me marry Kevin? God, no! It would be like marrying my brother.’ As she sucked the martini olive off the toothpick, a calculating look had entered her hazel eyes. ‘But you know what? You’d be a perfect match for Kevin.’
‘No,’ Margaret had demurred coyly before widening her eyes and glancing over the rim of her glass. ‘Do you really think so?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Sylvia clapped her hands in delight. ‘I’ll throw a dinner party and invite him. I’ve been dying to use the fondue set I got for a wedding present.’
Now Margaret stepped in close to Kevin and started undoing his tie. ‘Darling, all my friends are married just like we are. We’re now part of the young Mingunyah marrieds and we should be spending our weekends with other couples. Besides, tonight’s our first Friday night in our new home and I thought it would be fun to stay in.’
Her fingers disposed of his tie and started on the buttons of his shirt. ‘And you’re playing footy with Gary tomorrow so you’ll have hours with him. I’m definitely not the sort of wife who expects you to come straight home after the match either. Stay and enjoy a couple of beers with him, talking stats and facts before you come home at seven to Chateaubriand and me.’
She ran her hands up his chest and kissed him long and hard until a low groan crossed his lips. ‘That sounds fair, doesn’t it?’
He dropped his forehead onto hers. ‘Very fair.’
‘Excellent.’ She had other plans for their marriage—plans that included banishing football from their lives—but now was not the time to mention them. Some things needed to be finessed. ‘Darling, go and get changed for dinner and then make me a Bloody Mary and tell me all about your day.’
‘… Mum?’
Margaret startled and blinked, bringing Cameron’s face back into focus.
‘You were a million miles away.’
She smiled at him as her memories continued screening in the back of her mind. ‘I was thinking about your father. You look so much like him. So handsome. Before he was stolen from us so suddenly, we had a lot of happy years in this house.’
‘I love the old place too, Mum. It’s not just full of my childhood memories, but of you, Dad and Grandpa. Dad used to say if the walls could talk, the Jamieson secrets would whisper long and loud. Remember when I tricked Sarah into thinking the house was haunted?’
A ripple of irritation ran through her. ‘I remember your sister breaking a vase and you cutting holes in one of my best sheets.’
Cameron grinned and gave her a wink. ‘But you still love me.’
Margaret laughed, her old annoyance fading under a rush of love. Her mind located the black-and-white film reel of the day Cameron was born. ‘I’ve never forgotten the moment I first held you in my arms. You gazed up at me and I gave you my heart in a way I’d never given it to anyone before. I was the mother of a son and every woman should know that pleasure.’ She snapped out of her reverie and fixed her gaze on Cameron. ‘The Jamieson line can’t stop with you. Someone told me there’s a diet Anita can go on so you can have a son.’
‘A fifth-generation Jamieson living in Mill House?’
She smiled just thinking about it. ‘Exactly.’
He leaned forward. ‘Mum, I know how much you love this house. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you stay here.’
‘Thank you, darling. Ellie doesn’t care and Sarah—’
‘Doesn’t understand you like I do. The only reason she wants you to move somewhere smaller is to make her life easier. Put you somewhere so she doesn’t have to visit you every day. I mean how hard is it to help a little now and then with the garden? Hell, you spent years caring for us.’
‘I did, didn’t I.’ Vindication grew like ivy, sucking and clinging to the disappointment she experienced when she thought about her daughters. Sarah’s begrudging help. Ellie’s abandonment.
>
‘I virtually raised Ellie single-handedly but I never got any thanks. Not that a mother expects—’
‘Even so …’ Cameron’s voice trailed off, validating all of Margaret’s thoughts.
‘Sometimes I think you’re the only one of my children who understands me.’
‘I try my best.’ Cameron licked cream off his fingers. ‘I was thinking, now that you’ve given me power of attorney, it’s probably an idea to tell me where you keep your will. You know. Just in case.’
She refilled his tea cup. ‘You don’t have to worry about that. My will’s safe with Robert.’
‘Robert’s been dead for three years, Mum.’
‘Tsk.’ She knew that, but the space where the name of her solicitor should sit was blank. ‘You know who I mean. Robert’s son.’
Cameron frowned. ‘Dan Horton? Really? I thought you’d changed solicitors. I know Sarah likes him but I’m not sure that’s enough to recommend him.’
‘It’s true, Dan does suffer from being a little too much like his mother.’ Margaret sat a little straighter as pride ran up her spine. She’d always outshone mousy and wimpy Mary Horton. ‘But I’ve always thought Dan got enough of Robert’s mettle and business savvy to compensate. Besides, our connection with the Hortons dates back to your great-great-grandfather. For as long as there’s been a Jamieson in the valley, the Hortons have been our solicitors.’
‘Still …’ Cameron turned his cup on its saucer. ‘I bet Dan’s charging you an arm and a leg for the pleasure.’
Was he? Unease skittled through Margaret. It wasn’t just her will Dan was looking after but her investment portfolio too. The last few statements she’d received had so many figures that she’d got a headache trying to work out which payments corresponded to which services. Rattled, she’d shoved the bewildering paperwork into the filing cabinet. ‘Nonsense. I’m a valued customer. Your father and I were very good friends with Robert and after Kevin died, Robert—’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Cameron said tightly. ‘Robert saved everything except the mill.’
Margaret pursed her lips at the old chestnut, frustrated at Cameron’s inability to let it go even after all these years. ‘I know you were disappointed about the sale of the mill but as much as I loved your father, it was in a parlous financial position when he died and bleeding money. Without Robert’s intervention, we could have lost everything, including the house. Instead, he made me a lot of money.’
