Magpie's Bend

by Maya Linnell

  The magpie eyed her as she pulled her exercise gear on. She could almost swear there was a hint of amused defiance in his expression.

  Lara, you really are losing it. Blaming a hapless animal for your whacked-out dreams.

  The bird fluffed his feathers again before pooping on the latest Jane Harper novel. Lara mopped up the mess and carried him into the kitchen. How he’d even climbed onto the bedside table with a broken wing was beyond her.

  ‘No extra worms for you this morning, Vegemite.’ She fastened the cage door with a peg and ushered Basil into the kitchen. He watched quietly as Lara slicked her hair into a ponytail and tugged on her Nike cap, but he stayed in his basket. Pre-snakebite, he would have danced on the end of the chain the second she walked out the back door, but he seemed to know his own diminished capabilities.

  Lara turned and fixed the pair with a stern look as she laced her sneakers.

  ‘Mind the fort, you two. Back in an hour.’

  The moon was hiding behind a blanket of clouds, and Lara could barely make out her hand when she held it in front of her face.

  Snail shells crunched underfoot as she loped across the dewy lawn. The sharp wind snatched at her clothes and whistled in her ears, stealing the normal soundtrack of lowing cows and humming frogs. Despite the eerie conditions, Lara felt her legs loosen as she ran. She welcomed the flow and focused on ticking topics off her mental to-do list.

  Call Toby and update him on last night’s meeting, quiz him on fun-run sponsors and media coverage.

  She’d been quietly impressed with his two stories in the farming feature and the front-page promoting the shop fundraiser. He had a way with words, she’d give him that, and the description of the stuck calf’s birth was nothing short of heart-warming.

  And his photographs …

  The scene he’d captured in the farmhouse kitchen was the first picture of herself she’d liked in years.

  Lara’s watch beeped and she spun on her heel.

  Five k’s out, five k’s back and I’ll have time to stretch when I get home, if I pick up the pace.

  Lara’s breath quickened, the sheen on her body reminding her of the sweat rolling down her cleavage when she’d woken. Her cheeks flushed in the crisp morning air.

  Toby Paxton had been every bit as sexy in her dream as she’d feared.

  Lara forced her legs to turn over more quickly, as if she could outrun the memory of her body melting under his touch.

  General store, Lara, general store! That’s the issue at hand.

  Her lungs started to burn and she focused on her official to-do list, not the X-rated to-do list her mind kept returning to.

  Toby rolled over in bed. He tugged the flannelette sheets up a little higher and enjoyed the luxury of his warm bed for a few more moments, thankful the migraine that had floored him yesterday afternoon was gone. Judging by the light peeking in around the curtain edges, his alarm would go off any minute now.

  Like most mornings, he spent the first few moments of foggy wakefulness stretching his body. He wiggled his neck left and right, flexed his legs out long and stuck his hands out, starfish style, across the bed, checking for tight spots needing attention. The alarm trilled as he finished kneading his left shoulder blade.

  Toby jumped out of bed and pulled the wardrobe door open. A bundled-up shirt tumbled out as he grabbed his shorts. He held it to his nose. That’ll do, he thought.

  The wind whistled through a window he’d left open in the lounge room, and he recalculated his route to account for the south-easterly.

  Instead of the loop he’d planned around the lake, Toby headed west. The morning was so dark, and his mind was so busy mapping out the day ahead, he didn’t see Lara until she was within touching distance. If it hadn’t been for her bright yellow singlet, he would have run straight past her.

  ‘Hey,’ he called out over the wind, falling into step beside her.

  Lara’s double-take was comical. ‘You scared the crap out of me,’ she said. ‘Must have ESP.’

  The comment made Toby smile to himself. ‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing you’re thinking of me at five-thirty in the morning?’

  ‘Good, one less phone call to make in my lunchbreak. You missed the committee meeting.’

  ‘Migraine. I’ll go months without one and then I’ll be floored by a string of them.’

  She nodded sympathetically. Her matter-of-fact acceptance was a relief. Petra had always scorned the concept of migraines as a fictitious frivolity aimed at ruining other people’s plans.

  ‘I’ll email you the minutes,’ said Lara. ‘And there’s another meeting this week.’

  ‘Perfect. Though I’m annoyed I missed my opportunity to recruit a few more fun-run helpers. I’m a little under the pump at work.’

  ‘I’ll pitch in.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to ask, seeing as you’re already so loaded up with the general store stuff, and your raffle, but I won’t knock back any helpers. You sure?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s either that or get roped into the singles event. Runners are my people, not the desperate and dateless.’

  Toby laughed as they rounded the bend, then felt a twinge of disappointment when he saw his porch light glowing at the end of the driveway.

  What is it about Lara McIntyre that makes me want to tack a few extra kilometres onto my runs?

  Lara’s week at the Bush Nursing Centre was even busier than usual, fielding calls from media outlets in Bendigo, Newcastle and even the Eyre Peninsula. It was flattering to know their campaign to save the shop was generating so much interest, and the ‘golden apartment lottery’ was every bit the unique selling point she’d hoped it would be, but the extra time she spent talking about the shop had gobbled up quite a bit of her paid workday.

  ‘You’ll be working tomorrow, then?’ Lara’s boss, Gretel, bailed her up in the tearoom on Friday afternoon, as Lara tipped yet another cold coffee down the drain. ‘Those reports won’t write themselves, and I need you holding up your end of the bargain with the grant acquittals,’ she said gently but firmly. Lara didn’t need a degree in psychology to understand the subtext. If the centre wasn’t granted the next round of funding, they would have even less money to pay for clinic extras, such as the seniors’ exercise classes, the young mums programs and the healthy-leg clinic.

  ‘I’ll only be in for the exercise class but I’ll work on it at home over the weekend, I promise,’ Lara said, pulling her lunch from the fridge. ‘And is it still okay if I take a few days off next week? I’ve got to train up some new shop volunteers, and the Sunday Herald is coming to do a story on the all-abilities cooking program. Can you believe it’s going to make the state-wide tabloids?’

  Gretel stood up and rinsed her mug. She’d always been a supportive boss, though with less funding she would only be renewing contracts for staff who pulled their weight.

  ‘I can’t imagine anyone in Horsham ever caring this much about a shop. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.’

  ‘Gee, thanks,’ said Lara, through a mouthful of tuna salad. ‘It’ll settle down soon. I’ll catch up on sleep when we’ve got the money raised and we’re back on solid ground. We’ve got a meeting tonight, I think we’re about two-thirds of the way there.’

  ‘You’re determined, Lara, no one would ever say you were a slacker. But remember this job needs your focus too,’ she said, leaving the kitchen.

  Lara spent the afternoon wading through her mountain of work at the clinic, then drove home on autopilot to type up the committee meeting agenda. Mrs Beggs was coming to this one and Lara wanted to be ultra-organised so she could show how serious they were about buying the shop.

  Lara cast a look at the chock-a-block line of washing flapping under her verandah. It’ll keep till tomorrow, she told herself, hurrying into the homestead and locking the door behind her. She dumped her handbag on the hall table, unwound her scarf, tossed it in the general direction of the hat stand and bustled into her bedroom.

  V
egemite chirped cheerfully from the laundry, and even Basil got to his feet and wandered into the hallway, curious about her hurried movements. Off with the work blouse, a quick sniff of her armpits and a liberal spray of Rexona, then Lara scoured her wardrobe for a clean top.

  There must be something in here, she thought, finding only work shirts, a handful of navy nursing blouses and running gear. A dash of colour caught her eye and she reached right to the back, behind her winter woollies. Ah ha—the pink blouse Evie had given her for Christmas. Baffled why anyone would design sleeves that flared out at the elbow, Lara pulled it on before she could change her mind.

  The left sleeve drooped perilously close to the bowl of dog food as Lara whipped through her evening’s chores, and almost copped a layer of soggy Weet-Bix as she mixed up the magpie’s dinner. Fancy clothes were great for sitting in an office looking pretty, but not ideal for actually doing anything in. Heaven forbid she had to open a gate or change a tyre!

  ‘Eat up, Vegemite. Fresh worms tomorrow, I promise,’ she said, securing the door of the birdcage with a bulldog clip. Hopefully that’ll last longer than the peg.

  She was brushing her teeth with one hand and opening her mail with the other when the phone rang. Lara wedged the mail between the tap and the mirror and slid her toothbrush back into the drawer.

  ‘Hey Evie-girl, didn’t you get my message? I’m dashing out the door to a general store meeting.’

  She didn’t like hurrying Evie off, but she couldn’t be late tonight—there was too much to get through before the second and final whole town meeting on Monday.

  ‘Yeah, I know. I just wanted … I mean …’ Evie took a deep breath.

  Lara’s stomach lurched as she ran through the options.

  Is she upset because I postponed the weekend trip to Ballarat?

  She’s dropped her laptop and needs a new one pronto?

  She’s flunked that maths test she was worried about?

  She’d been caught sexting?

  Ack, that was the problem with modern teenagers, so much scope for trouble. For a moment, she hoped it was just another lost jumper.

  ‘Spit it out, honey,’ Lara said, as calmly as she could, refusing to look at her watch. ‘Are you upset I can’t come this weekend? I’ll be there really soon, I promise. It’s just work is crazy at the moment. And we’re so close to buying the shop.’

  ‘I know. Karl and Edwina are visiting me tomorrow. I got a letter from them last week and then we spoke on the phone, so they’re coming. I didn’t know how to tell you,’ she said after a long silence.

  It was Lara’s turn to take a deep breath. Letter last week? Phone this week? Visiting tomorrow?

  ‘Karl and Edwina Kingsley …’ she said finally.

  The first and only time she’d ever cancelled on Evie and already her in-laws were jumping into her spot? It beggared belief that they would move so fast after years of not giving a toss.

  ‘It’s not because you cancelled,’ Evie said firmly. ‘They were heading down anyway.’

  Yeah, and I’m a monkey’s uncle, thought Lara. It was a little concession that Evie was calling them by their names. They didn’t deserve the title of Gran or Pa.

  ‘Well, have fun, then. They meeting you at the boarding house?’

  ‘Nope, Edwina’s booked a restaurant.’ Lara heard the anticipation in her daughter’s voice. Whatever it was, it would surely be a step-up from the counter meals Lara favoured on the rare occasions they ate out.

  It’s natural for her to be excited, don’t rain on her parade.

  ‘Snazzy. Make sure you wear something nice,’ she said, cringing as the inane comment slipped from her tongue. But what should she say? Don’t be surprised if you have dinner once and you never hear from them again? Don’t be offended if they show more interest in the waiter than their own flesh and blood?

  ‘Edwina said we could go shopping first, if I didn’t have anything nice to wear, but I’m going to wear those new jeans you bought for my birthday. And the top Aunty Diana got me for Christmas, with the cat on it.’

  It wasn’t until Evie said it that Lara realised her daughter only received new clothes as gifts. Had she been dreaming of random shopping expeditions?

  ‘Miss you, speak tomorrow night.’ Evie blew her a kiss down the phone line before hanging up.

  Lara leaned her elbows on the bathroom vanity and rested her head in her hands. The half-opened envelope fluttered to the floor. She took several deep breaths and felt slightly better until she recognised the neat cursive on the envelope. With shaking hands, she picked the mail off the tiled floor, opened it and unfolded the letter.

  Dear Lara,

  Evie told us how much the store means to your little community. In light of this, and as a gesture of goodwill, we have enclosed a $100,000 contribution towards the general store consortium. Please let us help and be part of Evie’s life again.

  Edwina and Karl Kingsley

  Seriously? First they try to buy my daughter and now they try to buy me?

  As tempting as it was to feed the letter straight into the fireplace and watch it burn, Lara marched to the car, holding the letter as if it were steaming dog poo, and drove to the hall on autopilot.

  Toby finished his Friday afternoon read-through, altering only a few typos on the forthcoming edition before emailing the print team with the revised copy. After the edition was officially ‘put to bed’, he finessed his list of story ideas for the following edition, locked the newspaper office and walked to the hall.

  He looked skywards briefly. It was a lot milder than Ballarat’s late autumn but the threat of rain was always present. Straightening his shirt, Toby pulled the neckline away from his skin. He gave a cursory sniff. Lara had crept into his mind all day, and he didn’t want to waltz into the meeting stinking to high hell, especially when he was planning to ask her on a date. A real date, with a restaurant and table service, not a scrap of lycra or whiff of sweat involved.

  Would she say yes? He sure hoped so.

  He couldn’t smell anything, but backtracked to the staff bathroom and blasted his underarms with deodorant, just to be on the safe side.

  A kaleidoscope of colour emerged from a car outside the hall, bringing a smile to his face.

  Pearl Patterson was looking resplendent in a paisley silk caftan, and from the purple tint in her hair, she looked like she was fresh from the hair salon. Her false teeth flashed brightly in the fading sunlight.

  ‘Looking very swish, Pearl,’ he said, reaching to open the hall door for her.

  ‘Don’t you love it? I found it in the Salvos. They had it on the fancy dress rack, but it’s too pretty to save for parties, don’t you think?’

  Toby bit back a smile. The caftan wouldn’t be out of place on a Mardi Gras float.

  ‘Very eye-catching,’ he said, twisting the door handle.

  But no matter which way he turned it, the hall door wouldn’t budge.

  ‘Are we early?’ Pearl looked as surprised as he felt.

  There was a lot he didn’t know about Lara McIntyre, but he’d been around her enough to notice her pride in organisation, punctuality and order. Another car pulled up and Amy the vet climbed out.

  ‘Locked out?’ she said, pulling dog-hair off her woollen jumper.

  ‘Looks that way,’ said Toby. ‘I’ll try the back door.’

  Toby loped across the car park, careful not to slip on the damp oak leaves littering the ground. The back door opened with a creak and he moved cautiously through the darkened space, heading towards the light-filled foyer. The chairs were only half-unpacked. What had derailed their evening?

  He spotted the McIntyre sisters in the hall kitchen, Diana with an arm around Lara, Penny’s face taut with concern. Was Lara crying?

  Toby made a quick decision, retreating silently to the back of the hall. He waited a few beats, then opened the back door and shut it loudly.

  ‘Anybody in here? Lara?’

  He walked down the hallway slowly,
ensuring his footsteps rang out across the old timber floorboards. By the time he entered the kitchen, Penny had a tray of slice in her hands and Diana was pulling a bottle of milk from the vintage fridge. Lara kept her back to him.

  ‘That time already?’ said Diana. ‘Better start setting up, I guess.’ Penny thrust the platter in Toby’s direction. His mouth watered over the array of delicacies.

  ‘Isn’t anyone coming?’ she said, unloading a tray of tea-cups onto the trestle table.

  Toby set the slice down beside the urn on his way to the front door.

  ‘Might help if you unlock the hall,’ he said with a wink, twisting the lock.

  Penny’s expression changed to relief as the rest of the committee flooded in.

  ‘Colder than a witch’s tit out there,’ said Pearl, her arm threaded through Amy’s.

  He noticed Lara slip into the bathroom, her head low. The committee members helped themselves to supper and pulled their chairs into a small circle, and though Toby smiled and joined in the small talk, he kept an eye on the bathroom door.

  Seventeen

  Lara blinked until the sting of Diana’s eye drops eased. She shoved the bottle into her pocket, ran the bathroom taps and splashed a handful of water on her face.

  ‘You right?’ Penny said as she stepped into the bathroom. ‘You know you can just rip that thing up right now and nobody needs to be any the wiser,’ she continued gently, taking the now-creased letter from Lara’s hand. ‘And you don’t even know if there are strings attached, it’s not explicitly outlined.’

  Lara twisted her hair into a tight bun, then paused and let it fall loose again. At least she could hide a little if her hair was down.

  ‘Oh, that’s what they mean, all right. There’s no such thing as a free lunch in their world. It’s just the type of game Sam would play.’ She took a sip from the glass of water Penny had brought with her. ‘I’d rather sell my organs on the black market than accept a cent from the Kingsleys, especially if they’re only doing it to impress Evie.’

  Lara thought of the letter as she joined the meeting. The heater was on full tilt and Mrs Beggs was bundled up in at least six layers to ward off the chill. It was the first time she’d seen Mrs Beggs out and about since she’d returned from hospital. All these people, including a handful of new fun-run marshals who had obviously read Toby’s call-out in the newspaper, were giving up their time to raise funds, not to mention all the volunteers keeping the shop running.