by Maya Linnell
I could fix this by accepting their donation.
But if she did, she knew she would feel even more obliged to share Evie with them. Although Evie was the one who had initiated contact, the thought of accepting their money made Lara sick.
Toby took the cap off his pen, flicked his notepad to a fresh page and looked up brightly. His gaze lingered on her face a little longer than normal, as if to say ‘I’ve got this’.
‘Righto, let’s get this meeting underway. Great to see some new volunteers here, we’ve got lots of sponsors on board and I’ve had a ripper idea that might just smooth the way with the infamous Clyde McCluskey.’
Lara looked up, intrigued.
‘What if we name an event in honour of his late wife? I’ve got a feeling his grumpiness is more about loneliness. Was he always this miserable?’
Angus nodded. ‘He’s always been crotchety, though he is slightly more impossible without Edna’s influence.’
‘So, why don’t we call it the Edna McCluskey 5K, and whack a donkey on the trophy?’
Even Lara found herself agreeing.
‘If he’ll let us use the easement along Windmill Track, I’ll put both the darn donkeys on the trophy,’ she said.
‘Edna walked them up and down that track every weekend for years,’ said Mrs Beggs. ‘Rain, hail or shine.’
‘Leave it with me,’ said Toby, and Lara felt a weight lift off her shoulders.
The meeting moved to permit applications and equipment suppliers. They broke for a quick supper and Lara waited until everyone had a fresh cup of tea before she cleared her throat.
‘There’s a little more business we need to discuss,’ she said, shifting in her seat. ‘In the interest of transparency, I wanted to talk about a few donations that don’t quite fit the mood. We’ve had two so far, one I think we can deal with easily. The other …’
She cleared her throat again.
‘The other is less cut and dried. We received a hundred thousand dollar pledge today.’
‘You ripper, that’d more than cover the shortfall,’ Pearl said.
Amy leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, watching Lara closely. ‘And yet you aren’t celebrating?’
Angus looked perplexed. ‘What’d they want? Use of the upstairs apartment as a brothel?’
The small joke roused a tiny smile from Lara.
‘It was from the Kingsleys. They want access to Evie,’ she said, smoothing down a piece of paper, as if her hands could iron out the wrinkles.
Amy winced. Pearl let out a deep sigh. They both knew firsthand the struggles Lara had had with Sam, and how she felt about her in-laws.
Ex-in-laws.
‘They’re Evie’s grandparents,’ said Lara, noticing Toby’s puzzled expression. ‘I’ve spoken to a lawyer friend, Kylie. She says that as a committee, we need to decide whether we’re willing to accept donations with personal stipulations or conditions attached. If the answer is no, and everyone votes on it, then their pledge is null and void. If the committee votes yes, then we’re going to need to work out how to navigate this one.’
Toby chewed on the end of his pen.
‘They’re not seriously going to stand up in front of the whole town and bully you into accepting their donation, though, are they?’ Toby cocked his head. ‘I mean, they’ll look like a pair of arseholes—’ He caught Pearl’s indignant cough. ‘Pardon my French, but that doesn’t make them look good.’
‘The Kingsleys aren’t used to hearing the word no,’ said Penny, reaching for her sister’s hand.
‘Easy, then. I vote we don’t accept donations with strings attached,’ he said, lifting his hand.
Everyone else on the committee followed suit. Lara felt her shoulders lower a little.
Pearl piped up beside Lara. ‘And what’s the other donation?’
This time Lara’s smile wasn’t forced. ‘Let me tell you about Paul Moyne and his brilliant ZingleDangle proposal. I’m pretty sure we won’t be painting the general store lime green, but you’ll get a laugh anyway.’
Toby pulled out of his driveway on Sunday morning on his way to the footy. He spied Lara’s car in her driveway as he drove past and wished again that he’d caught up with her as soon as the committee meeting on Friday night had finished. But she’d slipped out while he was washing up and there had been no reply to his text message.
He returned from the match with a camera full of sports photos and a notepad jammed with volunteer suggestions, a general-store donation and enough story tips to keep him in articles for the week ahead. But still no word from Lara, despite the fact her car didn’t seem to have moved all day. She was nowhere to be seen on his run the following day either, and despite his office phone ringing off the hook on Monday morning, none of the callers were Lara McIntyre.
He was glad to lock the office doors behind him to cover Bridgefield Primary School’s annual baking competition.
‘And you’ll be our celebrity judge next year too?’ the principal asked, after a delightful hour spent sampling an array of baked goods and declaring several worthy winners.
‘Tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it,’ Toby agreed, patting his stomach with a smile. He walked back to the Bridgefield Advertiser with a full belly, loads of photos and a new appreciation for the local kids and their baking skills.
The phone was ringing when he walked back inside.
He shrugged his camera bag off his shoulder and caught the phone in time.
‘Bridgefield Advertiser, Toby speaking.’
‘Paxton, glad I caught you,’ Mick’s familiar voice came down the phone, though from the sound of road noise in the background he wasn’t calling from the Ballarat Daily offices. ‘What’s the best way to get to your neck of the woods? I’m filling up at the Glenthompson roadhouse and the chap at the counter reckons I’m still an hour or so away. I was almost about to go north around your whopping big mountain range.’
Toby scanned the messy office piled high with old newspapers. Last week’s mostly empty coffee mugs were acting as paperweights so his notes didn’t scatter every time someone breezed through the door to buy a newspaper. He looked out his office to the vacant reception area.
Where is Nancy?
‘Mick, I didn’t know you were heading our direction. You definitely don’t want to go the top way, that’ll tack on an extra hour. Keep coming until Cavendish then turn north. We’ll see you in about an hour.’ Toby looked at his watch. The idea of Mick leaving his desk—heck, the idea of him leaving the city—for anything other than an emergency was unprecedented. It made Toby more than a little nervous. ‘I’ve got a meeting at six, though. Is this a social call?’
What have I stuffed up?
If anything, circulation had perked up in the past two months, so surely Mick wasn’t driving down to deliver bad news in person. The cakes and biscuits Toby had eaten at the baking competition suddenly felt like cement in his belly.
He’s giving the Ballarat job to someone else?
‘Ramona’s been reading all about your save-the-shop campaign and wants to get a feel for it,’ said Mick.
Toby let out the breath he’d been holding. He heard a muffled voice in the background.
‘Another hour or so, love. I know, I know, it’s further than I thought too.’
Ramona was Mick’s new, improved wife, and Toby owed her a debt of gratitude. As glamorous as she was young, Ramona was the reason the old newshound was finally planning his retirement.
‘There’s a delicate matter to discuss in person too, but we’ll talk about it over a few drinks later tonight.’
Toby hung up, contemplating what Mick’s delicate situation could be as he spun into action, cleaning the newspaper offices. By the time he’d emptied the sink and tidied the kitchenette, he had convinced himself the new journo from Melbourne had shoehorned his way into Mick’s confidence.
The receptionist reappeared as he finished wiping the front counter.
‘Nancy, you would’ve
been useful an hour or two ago.’
‘Sorry, long lunch!’
Toby looked at the clock. It was almost knock-off time. He could smell beer on her breath. Perhaps he should have laid down the law harder the last time.
‘You can make it up tomorrow,’ he said, ignoring her petulant look. ‘The boss is on his way, and if you still want a job when he gets here, then you’d better brush your teeth. Liquid lunches aren’t a good look,’ he said, turning her in the direction of the bathroom. She wobbled a little as she walked.
Lara set the axe down. She was getting used to the ache in her arms and shoulders, and if the mountain of freshly cut firewood was any indication, her efforts cutting wood after work were paying off. She had a quick shower, pulled on a fresh set of clothes and powered up her laptop for one last look through her notes before heading to the town meeting.
On a practical level, she was ready to give the shop campaign one last public pitch. If only she didn’t feel so unsettled.
From the corner of her eye, Lara spotted the magpie sneaking across the counter. He jabbed his beak into the butter dish.
‘Hey, you cheeky little bugger!’
Vegemite launched himself off the bench, flapping in the air for a moment before landing. His wing seemed in better nick now, but it wasn’t perfect and he was easy to catch and ferry gently back to the cage.
‘It’s mince, vitamins and milk-thistle flowers for you, mate,’ she said. ‘Butter’s not on your menu.’
She tended to Basil’s dinner, and then dashed to the loo for another nervous wee.
The doorbell caught her by surprise. Lara checked her watch as she jogged down the hallway.
Maybe Toby’s sick of being ignored?
She didn’t blame him. She’d meant to call him back, but after Evie’s animated update about the restaurant she’d gone to with her grandparents, and the outing they’d had afterwards, wood cutting was more appealing than company. And then there was the over-the-top donation from the Kingsleys.
The doorbell trilled again.
It was times like these she was grateful for the peep-hole she’d had installed, much to the local handyman’s amusement. But her gratitude turned to surprise, then anger, as she looked through the hole.
What the hell are they doing here?
The pearls around Edwina Kingsley’s neck were pale ivory, matching the glacial smile on the older woman’s face. Her pale hair was sharply bobbed at her jaw, with a heavy fringe almost to her eyelashes. Lara only had to glance at Edwina’s fine woollen knit to know it cost more than her entire outfit.
Karl Kingsley stood behind his wife, his khaki moleskins pressed within an inch of their life. Lara knew a small hipflask would be nestled in the inside pocket of his sports jacket, and while she’d never taken a shine to her former mother-in-law—a feeling that was completely mutual—she’d at least been able to hold a conversation with Karl.
‘Edwina. Karl,’ she said tightly. ‘I’m on my way out.’ She tugged on her boots, glad she had an excuse to side-step this unexpected visit.
Edwina’s shoulders sank. ‘I was hoping you’d at least see us, Lara. We’ve driven all this way.’
And now you expect me to drop whatever I’m doing?
‘Next time you might want to call ahead and make sure I’m free. I really do have to go.’ Lara looked at her watch. Damn it, she was going to be late.
‘Didn’t you get the letter with our donation? We can help buy your general store. We loved seeing Evie again yesterday,’ said Karl.
‘And we’d like to do it more often,’ finished Edwina.
Lara bristled as she tugged her jumper sleeves down to cover the goosebumps on her arms. Ironic, really. They hadn’t wanted to help a decade ago, when she’d stood in the Kingsleys’ grand home. She’d lifted her sleeves then, shown them the bruises Sam had left, but they hadn’t wanted to believe their son was capable of such a thing.
They were wrong then, and they’re wrong now, Lara reminded herself, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
‘Where were you when we needed support?’ Lara felt her fingernails bite into her palms and stepped back to escape the cloying scent of Edwina’s perfume. ‘And if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a meeting to get to.’
Lara went to close the door, but Karl slipped a leather loafer between the door and the doorway.
‘We just thought—’
‘You just thought what?’ Lara’s voice echoed down the hallway, drawing Basil to her side.
‘We just thought we could help you, and you’d be more inclined to nudge Evie in our direction,’ he said, his tone imploring. ‘Those school fees can’t be easy to manage, not on a nurse’s wage. We could pay for them too, or instead, if you’d prefer. Please, let us help. She’s our only grandchild.’
‘Bit late for that,’ said Lara, hating how bitter she sounded. ‘Evie’s a big enough girl to make her own decisions. She can see you if she wants, but I won’t be bribed into playing happy families, or urging her into your arms,’ she said. ‘You can keep your money.’
Sam’s mother winced as the words hit their intended mark. Karl shook his head and steered his wife away. She could hear him murmuring to Edwina as they retreated down the driveway.
Lara closed the door softly. Basil nudged her hand and she patted his head, taking solace in his calm presence.
Maybe she would feel differently if they’d listened when she’d come to them for help all those years ago. If they’d reached out after she left Sam and moved into that horrid rental. If they’d acknowledged her in the courtroom, instead of pretending she didn’t exist. But wanting to weasel their way in now, after all those years of silence? Too little, too late.
Eighteen
Toby buffed the fingerprints off the glass doors, wishing he’d been given more notice. Even with his quick tidy and Nancy’s attempt at cleaning, the premises looked a bit shabby. He gave the double doors another spritz of glass spray.
‘A cleaner and a journalist! How novel,’ said a high voice. Toby whipped around to see Ramona and Mick stepping out of a car.
Bugger, they’re early.
Toby set the bottle of Windex down and lifted his hands in surrender.
‘Guilty as charged.’ He didn’t need to remind them he was also the editor, photographer, advertising department and four-day-a-week receptionist.
‘Christ, I’m paying you to edit the paper, not wash the freaking windows, Paxton. Where’s the office girl?’
Toby tried to sound offhand.
‘Gastro.’
He thought about the retching he’d heard from the toilets half an hour earlier, right before he’d sent her home. Nancy would have a sore head, but perhaps not until tomorrow. He put the cleaning products inside the door, grabbed his camera bag and notepad and quickly locked the office behind them.
‘Eager to get to this meeting, I see,’ said Ramona, pressing her cheek against Toby’s and nearly deafening him with an air kiss. ‘I’m loooooving these save-the-shop stories, Toby! You’ve like, got a little band of cheerleaders in the Ballarat office,’ she said.
‘Just following the news,’ Toby said with a shrug. He wished Mick had factored in time for their deep and meaningful before the meeting, but he’d learned the hard way his boss and mentor wasn’t one to be rushed.
Mick clapped him on the shoulder as they walked towards the hall. ‘Let’s see whether the town’s ready to go the hard yards to get this shop over the line,’ he said. ‘How many people are you expecting tonight?’
‘A fair few. And with a bit of luck, they’ll have their wallets open,’ Toby said.
The murmur of conversation grew louder as they neared the hall, where clusters of people gathered by the entrance, trading news and gossip.
‘Good turn out,’ said Ramona.
Toby watched Mick and his young wife take two seats close to the front. This was more than a social visit and he couldn’t shake the unease.
He found Lara by the stage. E
ven with the grim look on her face, she was the best thing he’d seen all day.
‘All set to knock ’em dead?’
Lara sucked in a shaky breath. ‘Wish me luck.’
Toby gave her a smile, wishing he could erase the worry line between her eyebrows.
‘Good luck, not that you’ll need it. Everyone out there seems pretty excited about pitching in. You right for me to take photos? And I’ll do my spiel about the fun run, then your sisters will do their plug for the singles ball, yeah?’
It was what they’d already discussed at the committee meeting but Lara seemed distracted. He’d hate her to choke on stage.
‘Yep.’ Lara turned, as if she were searching for someone in particular. The sudden stiffness in her back indicated she’d found them, and from the way her lips pressed tightly together, he sensed it wasn’t a long-lost lover.
He followed her gaze. Even though he’d only seen them in photographs, it was obvious he was looking at the Kingsleys.
What had brought them to town? Was it the donation they’d proposed? He glanced at Mick and Ramona, struck by the coincidence of not one but two unlikely visitors in one day.
‘Is it stuffy in here?’ Lara asked, taking a deep breath.
Toby offered his most reassuring smile, trying to mask his growing uncertainty.
‘Hey, you’ll be fine. You’ve got the community at heart, that’s what counts.’
Lara clutched the microphone in a death grip, her gaze roving over the sea of people seated in the hall.
She launched into the introductions, stumbling on the Indigenous name in the welcome-to-country section, even though she’d practised it. Chairs scraped against the floorboards and some stragglers snuck in, taking the vacant seats right at the back.
