‘Of course. The Saturday night presentation was supposed to be at the rodeo ground but the wind has damaged the roof of the amenities block and it won’t be fixed in time.’
Ella met Saul’s gaze. They could only guess at what Edna’s request would be. The blue of his shirt was reflected in his irises, making them appear more of a clear blue than dark denim.
Edna continued on. ‘So our plan B is your paddock, Saul. The historical society will run the sausage sizzle, I’ve already organised portable bathrooms and a water truck. The television crew will also be able to use it as a base. What do you think?’
‘No problem. It sounds like you’ve thought of everything.’
‘I have. Now, Ella … I’ve organised for the television station and the newspaper to interview you first thing Saturday morning.’
‘I’ll be camera ready.’
‘I hope so. Just don’t wear anything too short. I know you have legs half the Woodlea ladies wish they had but you need to be taken seriously when you talk about dear Libby.’
This time it was Saul who grinned and Ella who looked skywards. ‘You know I always dress appropriately and don’t worry, I’ll be taken seriously.’
‘Of course. Cheerio, you two, you’d better get back to work.’
Silence filled the cabin. Saul’s eyes met hers and in their depths she glimpsed unconcealed laughter. She wouldn’t be able to look away even if Edna called again. For the first time she felt as though she were seeing the real Saul beneath his reserve.
‘Edna’s one of a kind,’ he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half smile. Before his marriage ended she had no doubt he’d been a man who smiled often.
‘As if I’d wear anything too short. For the record my dresses always pass the fingertip test.’
He turned off the tractor and opened the cabin door before sitting back in his seat. ‘Which is?’
She came to her feet and once on the top step, where she could stand straight, she held her arm by her left side and wriggled her fingertips. ‘Dresses always reach to here.’
Something indefinable flashed across his gaze before he plucked his sunglasses from off his hat and slipped them on. ‘I’ll remember that for when Rosie’s a teenager.’
She thought his voice had deepened but then the phone in her shirt pocket rang. She walked down the tractor steps while listening to the details about a dog that had fallen off the back of a ute.
When she ended the call, she turned to see Saul had left the tractor. Duke lay at his feet while Saul rubbed the Australian shepherd’s fluffy belly with the toe of his boot.
‘Work calls,’ she said. ‘Sorry, this could take a while.’
‘When you get back there should be something in the paddock that resembles a castle. Rosie wants photos and has already asked Nathan to send me a hurry-up text.’
Then, before she could analyse a strange pang of loss at having to leave Saul, Ella jogged the short distance home.
The day of the hay bale challenge started like any other. The morning chorus of the guinea fowls woke Saul far too early.
He jammed a pillow over his head before the thought fully registered that he had a fairytale castle in his paddock along with a white marquee. Duke padded over to the bed and prodded him with his wet nose. Between Violet’s runaway guinea fowls and the Australian shepherd he didn’t need an alarm clock.
He glanced at the luminous display of his obsolete clock and rolled over to pat Duke. ‘Feel like a run?’
Duke dashed from the room. Saul pulled on some rugby shorts and a singlet top before following more slowly.
He’d padlocked the gate of the hay bale challenge paddock that opened onto the road to stop anyone who had any ideas about helping themselves to the equipment needed for today. Woodlea might be a close-knit community, but rural theft and trespassing were still a problem. Last week a local farmer had his quad bike stolen after he’d left it on a stock route when he’d gone to open a gate to let his cattle onto the long paddock. A youth had taken the four-wheeler to sell for drug money.
The first blush of dawn crept across the horizon as Saul jogged along the driveway, Duke running beside him. They crossed the cattle grid and continued along the side of the road. The cool of the early morning air splashed over his skin, chasing away any lingering lethargy.
It was only when they’d reached the crest of the hill that the castle came into sight. Two huge pink flags flapped against the rose-coloured sky. He stopped to use the elevated view to check that everything remained in place after the overnight winds.
A neat row of large hay bales formed the front castle wall, stacked round bales resembled turrets and small bales acted as battlements along the top. In the middle was a square arch and drawbridge he’d welded in Denham’s man cave. Ella had then placed small bales in strategic spots around the left of the castle for Cinnamon and Nutmeg to climb and sit on.
A sense of pride and achievement crept through him. Rosie had given the construction a big tick and requested that he build her a smaller version when she came to visit. He glanced over to where the front veranda light gleamed from Ella’s cottage. It was thanks to Ella that their design had been accomplished so quickly. When she’d returned from her work call-out, she’d shared his attention to detail and work ethic. She’d driven the tractor, scaled the hay walls and stayed until late. Their castle really was a work of art.
His gaze lingered on the sandstone cottage. Yesterday he’d learned something new about her. She’d suffered the loss of a younger sibling. And just like every other time Ella revealed a new layer of who she was, what he discovered only made it more impossible to stop thinking about her. The calm way she’d mentioned her brother had been at odds with her defensive stare over her scar. The two couldn’t be connected, which meant she’d endured two traumatic events in her life.
Filled with a sudden need to move, he ran down the hill to the padlocked gate. Every visit with Ella made it harder to keep his distance. She made him feel emotions he’d vowed to never feel again and she awakened longings that stole his sleep.
He’d learned his lesson after giving her a ride in the tractor. They couldn’t again be in a confined space. Having her near only magnified his awareness and tested his already tenuous self-restraint. It had taken all of his willpower to not stare at the curve of her soft mouth when they’d been on the phone with Edna. As hard as it was, for both of their sakes, he had to stay on his side of the boundary fence.
He stopped at the gate and unlocked the heavy chain. Sightseers had begun driving past late yesterday and would be out early today. He went to pick up a plastic bottle someone had thrown out of their car window when shoes pounded on the bitumen. Duke’s tail wagged as Ella jogged down the hill past her cottage and towards them.
Just like on the day she came to talk about Violet, she wore black knee-length leggings and a white shirt that rose and fell with her accelerated breathing. And just as it had then, the unexpected sight of her left him feeling dazed and on edge. While they had forged a working companionship, he hadn’t yet mastered the art of remaining relaxed around her.
‘Morning.’ Her greeting was both casual and contained. While she did appear more comfortable in his company, she continued to keep her guard in place. He was the only one having difficulty remembering their boundaries.
‘Morning. You’re out early.’
‘I needed a little quiet time before today’s mad rush.’
As she bent to pat Duke, her heavy honey-blonde ponytail slid over her shoulder. His grip tightened on the plastic bottle against the urge to run his fingers through the silken strands.
‘If everything that Edna says is true there could be quite a crowd.’
‘We can only hope … and also that someone knows something about Libby. Daniel at the police station is all set to take any calls. Are you still right to pick up Violet?’
‘Yes, first thing. Did you get Edna’s message that there’s a magazine who would like to do a pho
toshoot?’
‘I did. I also washed Cinnamon and Nutmeg last night and am hoping they haven’t found any dirt to roll in.’
‘Good luck with that. And in case I don’t get another chance, thanks for all your help.’
He wasn’t sure if colour flushed her cheeks or if it was just a rosy glow from her run. ‘You’re very welcome. I should be the one saying thank you after lobbing this on you at the last minute.’
‘It’s all been for a worthwhile cause.’
Then, before his regret that their working partnership was over could show on his face, he whistled to Duke and they jogged through the paddock, past the castle and home.
By the time he returned with Violet sitting beside him in his F-truck, cars were congregated in the paddock and lining the roadside. A dusty four-wheel drive sported the logo of a regional television station.
‘Look at all of these people,’ Violet said, gazing around.
‘It’s a bit busier than when I was here earlier.’
On their trip back from town they’d taken an hour to drive around the other displays. They’d seen everything from a red ute, a bride and groom and a teddy bear made out of hay bales as well as Cressy and Denham’s caterpillar. There were more designs on the other side of town that if they had time they’d see on their way home. But wherever they’d been, while there had been people out of their cars looking, there hadn’t been as many as there were here now.
He drove in through the gate to join the queue that had stopped on the track that led behind the castle to the parking area. He followed Violet’s gaze as she stared out the side window. Draped across the right castle wall was a large banner featuring Libby’s grinning face and the hotline number to call with any information.
He reached for Violet’s hand, not surprised to feel it shaking.
Violet spoke quietly. ‘Libby would be thirty-six this year and Annette would be thirty-eight.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘Someone somewhere will know something,’ he said, as the traffic crawled forwards.
Not only had Violet lost her youngest child, her older daughter had died from an aggressive melanoma before her thirty-fifth birthday. Annette had only had one child, a daughter, who was at university in Brisbane studying medicine. Violet said she’d last seen Gemma when she’d come to visit her in hospital after her fall, but she still called every weekend.
When he reached the SES parking volunteer directing the traffic, he stopped and lowered the window. He didn’t know the young brunette but she seemed to know them.
‘Morning, Saul. Morning, Violet.’
‘Morning,’ he said as Violet gave the girl a smile. ‘Can I make a left turn to save Violet a walk?’
The brunette nodded, stepped back and waved them through. He drove behind the castle to where a temporary fence enclosed the left wall. It was here that Cinnamon and Nutmeg were making the most of their royal abode. He parked and helped Violet out so she could walk to the fence.
The goats, the ribbons in their pink conical princess hats rippling in the breeze, were further around the front of the castle being patted by tiny hands. As soon as Nutmeg saw Violet she gave her ear-splitting bleat and both goats bolted towards her.
Saul held Violet’s arm to steady her as she greeted the goats. A surge of emotion held him silent. This was the first time Violet had seen the mother and daughter duo since she’d moved out.
Violet took her time to pat each goat before adjusting Cinnamon’s hat. ‘Off you two go, you’ve a little fan club waiting. I’ll see you again soon.’
Violet watched the goats wander away before turning to survey the crowd. Her forehead furrowed in a concerned frown. Saul looked over to where the older woman was staring. Ella stood in a sleeveless, flowing white dress that brushed the tops of her brown cowgirl boots. Below the wide floppy brim of a brown felt hat designed for fashion and not the paddock, her long blonde hair fell down her back.
He too frowned. The man who stood too close to her wore a blue shirt, tie and dark pants. In his hand he had a microphone but he seemed more intent on making Ella laugh than on recording an interview. Not far away stood a cameraman who appeared hot, bothered and bored.
‘This was a bad idea.’ The tension vibrating in Violet’s tone snapped his attention back to her.
‘What was?’
Violet pointed a gnarled finger towards Ella and the reporter who finally appeared to be addressing the camera. ‘Ella doing the talking is a bad idea.’
He searched Violet’s strained face. ‘I’m happy to do the talking?’
‘Now they’ve seen her, they won’t be interested in you.’
He laid a hand on his chest in mock offence in an attempt to make her smile.
Violet’s lips barely moved. ‘Don’t worry, if it was a female reporter I’d send you out there quick smart. But over there, that man hovering in the background with the laptop bag, he’s a reporter as well.’ She turned towards the car. ‘Please take me home. You need to get back here.’ She stopped to clutch at his hand. ‘Promise me you’ll not let anyone catch Ella off guard … this was only ever meant to be about Libby.’
‘I promise.’
After he helped Violet into her seat he looked back to where the reporter now held a microphone towards Ella. Whatever it was that he didn’t know about Ella, Violet either knew or suspected it wasn’t something the media needed to get hold of.
He made the trip to Violet’s unit and back again in under forty minutes and returned to the sight of Ella sitting with the goats having her photo taken by yet another male. Just like earlier, Ella laughed at something the man said. But it wasn’t flirtatious or contrived, she was just being her natural warm self.
He made his way from the car park to the back of the castle, a fresh water bottle in his hand. Once at the temporary fence, he vaulted over the wire and walked around the castle corner. Ella’s photoshoot had ended but the grinning photographer continued to socialise instead of letting her leave.
Saul approached, gave the man what Denham called his go-ahead-make-my-day stare before taking Ella’s hand and leading her behind the castle. If she was surprised at his action he didn’t feel it in her loose clasp. It was only when they were out of sight that she slipped her hand from his. The loss of her touch kickstarted a deep need he’d long ago sworn to never feel again.
She stopped in the shade and took off her hat to fan her face. He passed her the water bottle.
‘Thanks.’ She took a sip of the chilled water. ‘I didn’t think he’d ever stop talking.’
‘You must be getting tired of answering questions.’
‘A little, but this is all for Libby so I don’t mind. The questions haven’t been too tricky.’
‘Was that the last interview?’
‘Yes, now there’s just an afternoon shoot planned in front of the castle once the winners are announced.’ The breeze carried the aroma of onions and sausages and she gazed over at the barbeque marquee. ‘I’m starving.’
‘I’ll get you a steak sandwich if you want to stay here and have a break.’
Her smile would have made him climb to the top of the turret beside him if she’d asked. ‘Thanks but it’s fine. You can walk over with me though as it’s like these city boys haven’t ever met a girl in boots before.’
Once at the food marquee, Ella went to sit with Fliss and Tanner’s fiancée Neve while he went to help Denham with the barbeque. If Denham noticed his preoccupation with keeping tabs on Ella, he didn’t make any comment. Saul had made a promise to Violet and he wasn’t going back on his word. He again checked that Ella was over talking to Fliss and Neve.
The lunchtime rush stretched into the early afternoon. He was on his second shift of flipping steaks when Edna took centre stage in front of the crowd. Preoccupied with the meaning behind Violet’s concern for Ella, he didn’t pay attention to Edna’s welcome or the category winners of the hay bale competition. It wasn’t until Denham slapped him on the back that he realised he an
d Ella had won the main prize.
Within five minutes Edna had him and Ella in front of the castle holding a blue rosette the size of a mini pony. In front of them was a sea of people snapping pictures on their phones. Not knowing where to look, he stared over their heads towards the distant ridge.
Denham’s voice sounded. ‘Saul … just smile, mate.’
So he did. Briefly. Beside him Ella didn’t seem to be having any trouble being in the spotlight.
A woman holding a camera that sported a large zoom lens called for them to move closer together. Ella obliged, making sure the rosette remained centred in front of them.
He didn’t know if it was the brush of Ella’s side that reminded him of the intimacy he’d lost, or if it was all the phones aimed at him, but time rewound. He was once again back to having his life fall apart under a very public microscope. Back again to feeling cornered.
He hadn’t realised he’d stiffened until, voice low, Ella asked, ‘Everything okay?’
When he didn’t reply, or move, her fingers sought his behind the oversized blue rosette.
He allowed their warmth and her silent message that she had his back to hold him in place until the final photograph was shot. Then, without a word to anyone, he stepped into the crowd, wove his way towards the small garden gate and headed home to feed his bison.
CHAPTER
6
Who knew the men of Woodlea had such sweet tooths?
Ella drove past yet another ute sporting a bull bar and oversized light bar as she looked for a parking spot at the old schoolhouse. She’d expected the decadent dessert night to be well supported by the local women but that the majority of men would be off down the pub for pizza and beers. She was wrong.
She passed a poison ivy green ute that sported two sky-high aerials and had picnic race day stickers plastered across the back. She didn’t recognise the vehicle and hoped it didn’t belong to Sophie’s brother, Joe. Sophie had texted that morning to let her know that Polly was on her feet and doing well. Three cars along Ella saw a spot with enough room to park her four-wheel drive.
The Boundary Fence (A Woodlea Novel, #7) Page 8
