Magpie's Bend

by Maya Linnell

  ‘This is the part where you give me a thumbs-up or something,’ he said quietly. Nerves danced in his abdomen. He scanned her eyes, searching for a sign it was what she wanted too.

  Lara’s hand slipped into his.

  She closed the distance between them.

  ‘It’s two thumbs-up from me,’ she said, her lips brushing against his with each word.

  Toby leaned in a fraction, and when her arms roped around his neck and her body melted against his, he knew there was no place he would rather be than under Lara McIntyre’s delicious spell.

  Twenty-four

  Even an extra-early magpie alarm clock couldn’t shift the smile from Lara’s face. The taste of last night’s gentle kiss was still on her lips when she woke, and for the first time in forever, she found herself lazing in bed for a few minutes, reliving the memory. There had been no time for nerves, no awkwardness and not a word from the self-doubt inside her head. It had felt right. Toby had been the consummate gentleman.

  His fingertips had traced the scoop of her collarbone and he’d dropped one last sweet kiss on her cheek before opening the car door and seeing her off safely. It felt like she had floated home and fallen into an exhausted but luxurious sleep, not even waking when Diana dropped Evie off.

  She glanced over the dark paddocks towards his house.

  Did Toby wake up beaming too?

  She dressed quickly, made a coffee and bustled around the yard, pulling the heads off milk-thistle plants and delivering them to Vegemite’s cage before the sun was up. She found Annabel’s famous scone recipe and slipped on an apron, smiling to herself as she stirred eggs and cream into flour with a knife.

  Evie stumbled out of her bedroom, squinting at the bright sunshine streaming through the kitchen window.

  ‘Your dressing gown’s inside out,’ Lara said as she handed her daughter a coffee and pushed a basket of warm scones across the marble bench.

  ‘Scones? Shouldn’t you be stressing about the fun run or the bonfire instead of grinning like a loon and baking?’

  Lara heaped cream on top of a second scone and shook her head.

  ‘All under control, Evie. The race registrations are up to date, half the salads are made for lunch and I’ve even tallied up all our additional fundraising. We’re well over target!’

  Evie’s sleepy expression vanished. She jumped off her stool and rounded the island bench.

  ‘Really? That’s awesome, Mum. No wonder you look so pleased.’

  Lara hugged her tightly.

  No need to mention that exceeding their fundraising target was only half the reason behind this morning’s smile.

  Glowing embers fizzled and popped in the air as Tim tossed another red gum limb onto the bonfire. The group of women closest darted backward and Lara sidestepped quickly to avoid her platter of Caesar salad hitting the deck.

  ‘What about bushfires? Aren’t you worried those sparks will start another Black Saturday?’ The woman’s tone was flippant, as if she had no concept of the lives and livestock lost and the damage caused when the major bushfires had ravaged the area. Lara admired Tim’s patient reply as he pointed out the water tanks on the back of the utes and swept his arms wide, encompassing the lush paddocks.

  ‘See all that green grass around us? That paddock couldn’t catch fire without being doused in diesel. We wouldn’t light a heap like this up if the fire-ban was on,’ he said.

  Lara weaved through the crowd, stopping to chat with their guests. She met Penny at the food table.

  ‘Your hubby’s got the patience of a saint,’ said Lara.

  Penny finished unloading the last of the salads and looked over to Tim, who was simultaneously rocking the pram and educating their city visitors about fire danger.

  ‘That lady’s nodding her head like she understands the ins and outs of wind direction and fuel loads, but if she had half a brain she wouldn’t have bothered blow-drying her hair for a bonfire. And heels? Heaven help us. We’ll have to be more specific about the footwear next year.’

  ‘Or maybe next year we do something a little different,’ said Lara. She glanced from the tables piled high with lunch to the men cooking the barbecue, unable to stop herself smiling. ‘Toby reckons a barn dance might be the ticket. Raise some money for a community project, or the primary school.’

  ‘Ohhh, does he now?’ said Penny, cocking an eyebrow as she followed Lara’s gaze to the barbecue. Toby smiled back and waved with his tongs. Diana walked past with a tray of steaming hamburgers.

  ‘Oh, you two are so cute,’ Diana said, nudging Lara with an elbow. ‘Lara and Toby sitting in the tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.’

  Lara swatted her eldest sister with her free hand but her best glare didn’t last long before turning back into a smile. ‘Give it a rest, blabbermouth. I don’t want everyone in Bridgefield finding out, especially Evie,’ she said. ‘I wish I hadn’t mentioned it.’

  ‘Mentioned it?’ Diana scoffed, then snorted with laughter. ‘Even if you hadn’t said a word this morning, I would’ve worked it out. The dopey smile on your face is remarkably similar to the expression on Toby Paxton’s mug when I walked Holly to the door last night. That rosy, just-been-kissed look was a dead giveaway.’

  ‘Not to forget the pair of them on the dance floor,’ Penny added.

  The bonfire crackled as the flames feasted on a branch with dry leaves. Lara felt her face flush. She turned on her heel, heading for barbecue area. She wasn’t sure how Toby had been landed with the chief barbecuing job, but at least they had found him a less lewd apron this time. Angus’s striped-blue and white apron suited him. Before she knew it, Lara found herself adding it to her mental ‘Christmas presents’ file, along with Evie’s frightfully expensive kikki.K stationery and the body products Penny loved.

  Pull yourself together. One kiss and you’re already planning potential Christmas gifts?

  Lara cursed the practical side of her brain for piggybacking on the tiniest morsel of optimism and galloping away, but still she couldn’t quite wipe the smile from her lips.

  The smell of onions engulfed Toby as he worked the barbecue. His stomach growled at the sight of the juicy sausages, knowing they tasted as good as they smelled. He dished up his own serve, then loaded the last of the meat onto a tray and covered it with a wire cloche.

  After a morning taking last-minute fun-run registrations, setting up for the bonfire and now an hour flipping steaks, hamburgers and sausages, he was more than ready for his own lunch. He did a lap of the bonfire, scanning the crowd for Lara’s green shirt. He found her by the food table, loading her plate with salad and meat. Filling two glasses with water, Toby waited until she’d grabbed her cutlery before gesturing to the hay bales.

  ‘Table for two?’

  With Lara sitting beside him, her leg pressed against his, the sun on their backs and the radiant heat from the bonfire warming their fronts, it was better than any fancy French restaurant.

  Even when her plate was empty, Lara stayed sitting on the hay bale, enjoying Toby’s company, the warmth of the bonfire and snatches of animated conversations all around them.

  It hadn’t just been her biased opinion as an organiser: the laughter and newly forged friendships humming around her confirmed the ball had been an all-out success.

  ‘You hear that?’ Toby’s voice was hushed, and she leaned in a little closer, keeping her reply equally low.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That couple on your left. Sounds like they hooked up last night and he’s trying to impress her.’

  She glanced discreetly and smiled at the sight of a young man pretending to stretch his hamstrings.

  Lara turned back to Toby.

  ‘You think he’s trying to pass himself off as a runner?’

  Amusement danced in Toby’s eyes. Before they knew it, the pair were standing in front of them, their expressions animated.

  ‘You guys in charge of the fun run?’

  Lara nudged Toby.

  ‘Toby’s the
brains, I’m just a lackey. Are you entering?’

  The woman studied the man beside her, a challenge in her expression. She looked like a runner, him less so, but his face lit up at the question.

  ‘Sasha says she’ll go to dinner with me tonight if I have a go at the five-k. Where do I sign up?’ he asked eagerly.

  Lara tried not to laugh.

  ‘It’s for a very good cause,’ Toby said approvingly, pulling a notepad and pen from his back pocket. He took down the runner’s details.

  ‘He’ll be sore tomorrow,’ he said when the couple had gone. ‘But who are we to stand in the way of true love?’

  Toby’s warm hand brushed against hers as the couple wandered off and she threaded her fingers through his. Life was about to get good.

  Twenty-five

  Lara helped Toby load the last of the trestle tables into the back of Diana’s car and shut the boot. She rubbed her arms, feeling cold for the first time all afternoon, and knew if she moved closer to the bonfire again she would have trouble ripping herself away. They had stopped adding wood mid-afternoon and the sting had gone out of the heap by the time the last of the guests left, but it would smoulder for a few days yet.

  ‘Sure you don’t want to stay and have a celebratory whiskey round the fire? Not every day you can say you’ve saved a shop from ruination,’ said Tim, leaning back in his camp chair.

  ‘C’mon, Lars, it’ll help you wind down. You too, Toby,’ said Pete.

  Lara shook her head as she yawned.

  ‘No rest for the wicked. We’ve still got registrations to log. Our half of the weekend is ramping up, not winding down.’

  ‘Please Dad,’ said Holly, slipping in behind them with Evie at her side.

  ‘Not a chance, Lollypop. Tempting as it is, we won’t be celebrating until this time tomorrow night,’ he said.

  Lara’s eyes locked on his and she had a sudden urge to wind the clocks forward and fast-track to the bit where she and Toby had ten minutes to themselves.

  ‘But we’ll be halfway back to Ballarat with Granny and Pop then,’ Holly said.

  ‘Maybe there’ll be another bonfire next time you’re home,’ Lara suggested, liking the idea of future weekends with Toby and his family.

  ‘We’re heading off anyway,’ said Diana, loading Leo into the car. ‘I’ll get this lot home and fall into bed. What time do you want Cam to help you with the race set-up tomorrow morning, Toby? He’s always up at sparrow’s fart, aren’t you, mate?’

  ‘Is six-thirty too early, Cameron?’ said Toby. ‘You can make sure all the drinks tables and signage are sorted while I show Pete and Jonesy where we need the finish-line barricades.’

  ‘Want me to be on snake-hunting duty too, Aunty Lara? Mum said I can’t take my slug gun, but I could bring my stock whip?’ Harry offered, his boyish face hopeful.

  His twin, Elliot, chimed in: ‘We’re getting pretty good at hitting a target.’

  Another yawn snuck up on Lara, and she shook it away. There was too much to do tonight with the timing system to even think about sleep for hours yet.

  ‘Stock whips and guns at the finish line? Not likely. The snakes should all be hibernating in winter anyway. Now, what else?’ said Lara, casting a look around the group.

  Toby flicked up the collar of his rugby jumper.

  ‘I’ll print out a few more copies of the course for the last-minute volunteers, if you want to register those lovebirds from lunchtime? Adam, wasn’t it?’

  Lara nodded. She wondered how Adam and Sasha’s date would go tonight, and if Adam would be feeling quite as gallant when he’d hauled his untrained butt up Windmill Track.

  ‘This time tomorrow it’ll all be done and dusted,’ added Angus. ‘On Monday you’ll be waltzing off to the bank with a cheque for the shop.’

  Lara drove home, the buzz of their achievements keeping the weariness at bay.

  ‘It’s going great, Mum,’ said Evie. ‘What do we need to get done tonight?’

  Lara outlined her checklist, delegating jobs to Evie as she went.

  ‘Did we print off the last-minute raffle tickets?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Evie. ‘And I found a plastic tub for the raffle in the shed. Worst-case scenario, we could scrub the wheelie bin clean and tip all the entries in there.’

  Lara shuddered at the idea of shuffling raffle tickets inside a bin, no matter how well scrubbed it was.

  ‘The plastic tub will be fine. How many volunteer briefing packs do we have in total?’

  ‘More than enough, but I’ll print a few extra spares if you like?’

  Lara gave Evie a grateful look, before returning her attention to the road. The conversation shifted from the fun run to the ball and the barbecue, and Lara’s mind drifted to Toby. She daydreamed the rest of the way home.

  ‘Earth to Mum!’

  Lara looked across at Evie, who was unbuckling her seatbelt, and realised they were parked in their driveway.

  ‘Man, you seriously need some sleep. You didn’t even laugh when I told you about the guy from Romsey who singed his eyebrows trying to toast a marshmallow.’ Evie’s gruff voice faded and she pushed the buckle on Lara’s seatbelt. Her voice was gentler when she spoke again. ‘I’m going to print those extra raffle tickets for you, then go to bed. You should too. Holly’s dad is the main man on the fun run. Log in that couple like you promised, then trust him when he says he’s got it under control.’

  Lara eased herself from the car and followed Evie up the verandah steps, breathing in the smell of the sweet grass from the paddocks and wondering when her daughter had got so wise. Evie was right: it was time to trust again. And Toby Paxton might be the right man for the job.

  Toby whistled as he draped clean sheets over the clothesline. The sun wasn’t even up, but already he’d stripped his bed, done a couple of loads of washing, and entered an extra three overnight entries into the race-timing software. He pegged the last of the laundry onto the line and then headed back across the lawn.

  He sent a quick prayer skywards to the high clouds framing a full moon, hoping they wouldn’t give them any grief today. There was barely a puff of breeze, not even enough to ruffle the sheets. Perfect conditions for a winter fun run.

  A groggy-eyed Holly stumbled into the kitchen as he finished a second coffee and started up the vacuum.

  ‘What the … It’s not even six o’clock and you’re vacuuming? Don’t you have a fun run to set up or something?’

  Toby looked at his watch. ‘Got to squeeze it in somewhere, don’t want it messy for your grandparents. You sure you want to come in this early? Granny and Pop could pick you up when they come through about nine,’ he yelled above the roar of the appliance, sucking up crumbs from underneath the dining table.

  Holly flopped onto the couch and squinted at her phone.

  He turned off the vacuum cleaner and laughed.

  ‘Guess that means you’re sticking with the early start, completely out of the goodness of your heart, nothing to do with Evie’s cousin who’s also volunteering?’

  Holly rolled her eyes as he resumed vacuuming. She scrolled through her phone and lifted her feet as he worked his way around the lounge before turning the screen to him.

  ‘Cleaning for Granny, huh?’

  Toby peered down and saw a photo of him and Lara standing by the bonfire. Holly must have taken the shot from behind, but there was no mistaking Lara’s green shirt, or the delight in his expression as he threw back his head and laughed at whatever she was saying.

  Toby switched the vacuum off.

  ‘Nice shot. You’ve got a good eye, Lollypop. Would it bother you if Lara and I started dating?’

  ‘Gah, of course not.’ She harrumphed her way back into the kitchen and heaped generous spoons of coffee into her mug. ‘I don’t want details, that’s for sure, but if you’re happy, I’m happy. Though happy’s a bit of a stretch for this early in the morning.’

  Toby did a last-minute dash around the house. It wasn’t squeaky clean
, but it was a darn sight neater than it had been an hour earlier.

  Sunlight peeked over the valley, bathing the paddocks in golden light as Toby jogged up to the windmill. The walkie talkie on his hip sprang to life and Angus McIntyre’s cheerful voice burbled over the quiet conversations among the fun-run volunteers.

  ‘You on channel, Toby?’

  Toby slowed to a walk as he answered.

  ‘Yep. Go ahead.’

  ‘Cam and I’ve got the signage sorted, water tables are all in place and we’re seeing the first runners roll up at the start line. The course’s looking tip-top, couldn’t have asked for a better morning. You heading down for the race briefing soon?’

  ‘I’ll be there as soon as I’ve checked in with Lara.’

  Toby ducked into the marquee near the finish line and pulled the race briefing notes from a plastic folder. Despite the crisp morning, sweat tricked down his torso as he scanned his to-do list. Lara looked up from the laptop.

  ‘Final registrations are logged in, timing system looks good to go, and the volunteers are all in position. What else can I do?’ Lara smiled at him.

  Toby’s brain threw up all kinds of cheeky suggestions.

  ‘You’re a gem. Make sure you’ve got the radio ready for the countdown to the first race,’ he said, turning to leave.

  ‘Loved the trophies, by the way. Nicely played.’

  Toby gave a modest smile, pleased he’d managed to convince McCluskey to let the runners use his easement, which allowed the route to incorporate Windmill Track as he’d originally planned. Renaming the shortest run ‘The Edna McCluskey 5K’, and featuring a pair of donkeys and a windmill on the trophies, had sweetened the deal.

  A fresh wave of volunteers wandered into the marquee, and he gave a quick wave to Evie and Holly, who were unpacking the trophies. Even as he was passing, he could hear them cooing over the likeness of the donkeys.

  ‘They’re awesome—they look just like the ones down the driveway,’ said Holly.