Wish (11 page)

‘I think I’d take the opportunity to show him what sharing his life with a generous and loving person would be like. Couldn’t hurt.’

‘
Will
hurt,’ corrected Billie.

‘Maybe,’ said Maude. ‘And maybe it’s worth the risk.’

Adam was in his office updating accounts that didn’t need updating when he heard Billie’s car finally pull up outside. It was after nine-thirty in the evening, she should have been home half an hour ago, and he’d been starting to wonder whether she’d changed her mind about staying at the homestead another night and heading for the cottage after all. He wouldn’t blame her. Couldn’t stop her.

So he feigned a nonchalance he was far from feeling as he opened the screen door and let them in.

‘Thanks,’ she said, her smile a shade tentative. She was carrying a boxful of clothes and toiletries. Cal’s box contained milk, cheese, bread and other perishables. ‘We stopped off at the cottage and picked up a few supplies.’

‘So I see.’

‘You don’t mind, do you? We also had an offer to stay with Maude, Roly’s got the pub locked up tight so we could have stayed there, we could have stayed at a motel come to think of it, and Arthur thinks he’s finally found us a rental house in town. It comes vacant just after new year. All we’re waiting on is permission to have Henry there. Meanwhile…’ Billie set her box down on the bench and sent him a rueful smile. ‘We decided, upon much reflection, that where we really wanted to bed down tonight was with Henry, and Blue.’

‘And you,’ said Cal and Billie smiled.

‘We aim to be helpful,’ she said smoothly.

‘And quiet,’ said Cal.

‘Good company,’ said Billie.

‘If you want company,’ said Cal.

‘And,’ said Billie, with the air of one bestowing a great favour. ‘We come bearing pies.’

‘Bribery,’ he murmured. ‘That’s the spirit.’

‘We have raspberry and apple, blackberry, chunky beef in gravy – that one’s new, and plain Angus beef. Two of each and all for you.’ There was a smile in Billie’s eyes along with a question. Adam pushed the door open a little wider.

‘Come on in.’

Another day passed and then another. The dogs played in the yard and Adam’s chooks grew fat and clucky under Cal’s enthusiastic care. On Saturday morning, the first day of six weeks of summer school holidays, Cal asked Adam if he could come with him to shift some heifers, and there was nothing for it but to set the boy up in front of him on the quad, and show him how to ride it. How to gear up and down, how to brake and idle and stop; those things any farm boy Cal’s age would know. He rode a few laps of the house yard with the boy and then he got off and set the boy to driving slowly along the road to the first grid and back, with Blue and Henry sitting up behind the boy on the backboard.

Shaking his head at the boy’s barely disguised delight, he leaned against a fencepost to wait.

‘You’ve just invited some serious hero worship,’ said Billie as she came out of the house to watch her son’s progress. ‘I hope you realise that.’

‘It’s just a ride on a quad.’

‘You are so misguided,’ she murmured. ‘But whatever.’

Speaking of misguided… ‘I heard you telling Cal to get off the lounge earlier. Why?’

‘Because antique ivory Jacquard lounge chairs and grubby eleven-year-old boys don’t mix. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I’ve never seen you sit on one either. You have a beautiful home, Adam. I’m just trying to keep it that way.’

Adam scowled. As far as he was concerned, Caroline’s antique-filled lounge room was about as functional as a milking shed on a beef property. He rarely went in there. Didn’t
want
to go in there. Maybe it was time that changed.

‘Are we arguing?’ she asked.

‘We’ve finished.’

‘And did we come to any particular agreement?’ She smiled a lot, this woman. She was smiling now.

‘Yes.’

The large furniture chain store Adam walked into two days later sold bedspreads, kitchen sinks and everything in between. He skirted the mattress aisle, made it past the dining settings and stopped beside a large, comfortable-looking three-seater lounge with matching armchairs. The back was high, the chairs were deep and the cushions looked plump and inviting.

‘Fabulous, isn’t it,’ said a voice behind him. ‘Would you like some help?’

The pencil-thin, fifty-something saleswoman wore her hair up, her skirt short and had a voice like gravel. ‘I want to buy a lounge,’ he said.

The woman’s smile brightened. ‘Well, you’ve come to the right place. As you can see, we have quite a range in stock, both price wise and design wise. This one here is in the luxury price range. Having said that, it’s still one of our best-selling family lounge suites.’

‘I’m not looking for a
family
lounge,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m looking for a
utility
lounge. To go in an all-purpose room.’

‘I see,’ said the saleswoman. ‘Well, this here is one of our best-selling utility lounges.’

It was the same lounge.

‘The covers are fully washable, the cushions are a heavy-duty foam and come with a ten-year guarantee and the internal frame is solid plantation hardwood that can handle the dog, the toddler, the ten-year-old, and a couple of teenagers besides.’

‘It’s just for me.’

‘It can handle you too.’ The saleswoman sat in the middle of the three-seater and gestured towards an armchair. ‘Try it.’

The urge to tell her he’d take it, and flee the shop in search of the nearest empty paddock was growing stronger by the second but he could hardly buy a lounge without at least sitting in it first. He sat.

‘There are matching footstools too for when you want to put your feet up. Did you have any particular colour in mind?

‘Ah…’ The short answer would have been no. ‘Something serviceable,’ he said. ‘Something that doesn’t show the dirt.’

‘Well, there’s this colour,’ she said. ‘Blue is always a popular choice.’ She started flipping fabric samples over until she reached the darker end of the range. ‘Or the russet. Forest green. Even the brown. It’s got a nice caramel fleck through it.’

He stood abruptly. So did she.

‘I’ll take it. And a couple of footstools.’

The woman nodded as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a man to walk in and buy a multi-purpose lounge with matching footstools in under two minutes. Maybe it was.

‘I need a sturdy coffee table too,’ he said. ‘And one of those surround-sound systems for the TV. And a gaming system.’

‘I’ve got just what you’re looking for,’ she said. ‘Anything else?’

‘Maybe one of those big fluffy floor rugs.’

‘Cheque, savings or credit?’

‘Cash.’

‘Delivery?’

‘If it comes wrapped in plastic inside a box I’ll put it on my truck.’

The woman’s smile came wide and warm. ‘Sweetheart, let me
help
you.’

Adam drove home from Bridgeworth with a truckload of furniture, called Si over to help him unload, and by the time Billie and Cal arrived home that evening he’d transformed what was formerly the formal lounge room into a multi-functional leisure destination.

The lounge suite took pride of place. It was navy with an orange fleck – a masterful stroke of practicality given that the fleck was the same colour as the dirt outside. He’d planted the footrests where they’d be used and shoved the weathered looking coffee table within reaching distance of the lounge. Two dark blue floor rugs covered a fair portion of the white carpet. A wide-screen, 3D TV graced the far wall, along with a gaming console. There was surround sound, inconspicuous little speakers that nonetheless did the job. If only there’d been one remote to rule them all. By the time he’d finished, the room was exactly how he wanted it.

‘What’s this?’ said Billie when she walked in and saw it.

‘Comfortable?’ he supplied helpfully. ‘Practical?’

‘Cool,’ said Cal, heading for the sound system.

‘It certainly is.’ She turned towards him somewhat cautiously. ‘So where’d you put all the other stuff?’

‘The hayshed.’ Adam grinned at the memory of the dainty, pristine furniture stacked snugly beside a tower of hay bales. ‘Figured I’d ask Celia if she wants any of it.’ Hell, he’d even deliver it. He and Celia had had their differences in the past, plenty of them, but if she wanted any of Caroline’s carefully chosen furniture she was more than welcome to it. As a memento, a keepsake or even an investment, he didn’t much care as long as it was gone.

‘She came into the pub today,’ said Billie. ‘Celia. Wanted to know if the CWA could help with the repair of the broken instruments.’

‘Did you take her up on the offer?’

‘I asked if they’d contribute towards replacing Anna’s violin and Matty’s drums. I didn’t ask for anything for myself. She rubs me the wrong way.’

‘Sounds very Celia.’

Billie sank down lengthwise on the sofa and smiled. ‘Very comfy,’ she murmured. ‘A person could fall asleep here.’

‘You work too hard. Gone at eight, back at nine, six days a week.’

‘Not anymore. As of next week we’re on school holiday roster. Start at noon, finish at nine, with Mondays and Tuesdays off. I like what you’ve done with this room.’ She smothered a yawn. ‘C’mon, Cal, bath and bed. You can check out all the new toys in the morning.’

‘There’s nowhere for presents,’ said Cal. ‘You want us to get you a Christmas tree? You can borrow ours.’ Cal held his hand out so that it was about knee high. ‘It’s only this big.’

‘Maybe later,’ muttered Adam.

‘Ten days to Christmas,’ said Cal.

‘Haven’t you already got your present?’ said Adam. ‘As in Henry?’

‘Yeah,’ said Cal. ‘But you and mum haven’t got yours.’

The following afternoon saw Maude and Billie in the kitchen storeroom putting a Christmas order together. Flour and sugar and fillings for pies. Nuts for the vegetarians. Cashews and macadamias as well as peanuts. Spinach and ricotta filling for vegetarian pastries. Decent tea and coffee. Roly was going to have a fit when he saw the bill. Maude was downright happy. Billie settled for being slightly on edge.

Nothing bad had happened since the destruction of the instruments. Staying with Adam was both torturous and fun. Sexual frustration was riding her hard.

Just another day in the country.

‘I don’t know, Maude. The vandalism just feels directed at me,’ she said, and added salt and pepper to the order as Maude counted out how many bags of each they had left. ‘They told me I’d miss the bustle of the city if I went to live in a little country town. They told me I’d miss the shopping. Nobody warned me about coming down with rampant paranoia.’

‘Welcome to Inverglen,’ said Maude, shoulder deep in a storage shelf. ‘We need bicarb soda too.’

‘What’s the new pie filling this week?’ asked Billie. There was a big pot of it cooling on the stove top. ‘Smells good.’

‘Massaman curry.’

‘Edgy.’

‘I’m telling Roly it’s just another chunky beef with different gravy.’

‘So true,’ said Billie. And then the door to the kitchen opened and Billie stepped back from behind the door where she and Maude were standing to look through the gap and see who it was.

‘Celia,’ she murmured to Maude. ‘Are you taking visitors?’

Billie watched as Celia crossed to the cooking pot, gave it a stir, and looked around. And then she took a little vial of pills from her handbag and into the pot they went.

‘Hey!’ said Billie, almost braining Maude as she flung open the storeroom door and headed towards Celia. ‘What are you doing?’

Celia turned to look at her, her eyes bright and her skin waxy. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I
saw
you,’ said Billie as Maude came up behind her. ‘You emptied a bottle of pills into the curry.’

‘I did
not
,’ said Celia haughtily.

‘Easy enough to tell,’ said Maude, and headed for the pot, only Celia moved too and stood in her way.

‘Celia,’ said Maude evenly. ‘Get out of the way.’

‘No.’ Celia’s left eye started twitching and she shook her head as if to make it stop. ‘No! Do you
know
how many years I’ve been trying to get Roland Stuart to notice me? He was mine.
Mine
.’ She spared a glazed glare for Billie. ‘If you hadn’t turned up, Maude wouldn’t have taken this
stupid
job baking pies.’ Celia’s gaze shifted back to Maude. ‘I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He serves your pies on china plates. With linen napkins!’

‘Oh, Celia.’ Maude’s voice was far richer in sympathy than Billie thought warranted.

‘I don’t need your pity, Maude Thompson! I just need you to stop working here. I did try to warn you but you just weren’t listening. I warned you both.’

‘My roses?’ said Maude. ‘That was you? And the instruments, that was you too?’

‘Prove it,’ spat Celia.

‘Oh, Celia,’ said Maude again.

‘
Don’t you pity me!
’

‘Someone’s got to,’ said a deep voice from behind them all, and it was Roly, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed in front of him and his handsome face stern. ‘What’d you put in the pot, Celia?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Billie saw you,’ he said advancing on her.

‘You’re going to take her word against mine?’

‘Don’t need to,’ said Roly. ‘I saw you too.’

Roly put his hand on her handbag and Celia went berserk. It wasn’t a good look for her.

‘Billie, call the police,’ said Roly.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure. We’re not going to be able to sort this one out ourselves.’

So Billie went and called Sergeant Turner, and he came and took possession of the tablets Maude fished out of the curry, and the empty vial in Celia’s handbag and a glassy-eyed and sweating Celia as well.

‘Sleeping tablets,’ said Roly once Celia and Turner had left. ‘The mind boggles.’

‘Would have made for some interesting pies,’ said Maude as she binned the curry and looked around the old pub kitchen. ‘What if people had started falling asleep at the wheel?’ Maude looked close to tears.

‘Yeah.’ Roly grimaced and shook his head. And to Maude, ‘Did
you
know she was sweet on me?’