Page 29 of King of Obsession

However, my inconspicuous ingress soon ended in themedical supplies aisle.

‘Cleo, is that you?’ a woman’s voice called out.

I groaned on the inside.

I turned around, my heart pounding.

‘Hey, Angie,’ I answered, facing the bubbly, short blonde woman with sparkling blue eyes who stood at the makeup station with an eyeliner wand.

‘I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?’ she asked, her curiosity evident.

I forced a smile. ‘I’ve been good. Just busy with work and taking care of the property.’

She nodded, understanding the overwhelming nature of our lives. ‘Oh my, I haven’t visited the old place in months. We need to plan a catch-up so I can see how you’re going.’

There was a light in her eyes, a strand of sympathy in her voice that I hated.

She meant well, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d be trapped by her concern, pity, and the gossip in this town. ‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’

‘I haven’t seen you since you got back from where was it again -‘?’

‘Sydney,’ I proffered, trying to mask my annoyance.

‘Why’d you go?’

Her utterance carried, and I sensed several eyes turn my way.

Angie wasn’t a bad person.

She was one of a handful of women closest to my age who lived my way, which meant a homestead a few hundred klicks from me - in this part of the world.

Her father and other townspeople had convinced me to invest in a solar farm and wind turbine initiative.

I’d also qualified for a very generous grant to install the windmills.

Now, the spinning shadows of the 50-meter-long blades sweep across the north of my property at sunset.

The eco-farm had made good money, feeding power into the grid and bringing me a tidy income for which I was grateful.

However, the meetings of its shareholders always left me in tatters. People needled me about my life and my dating status and gave me those narrowed eyes, asking if I was doing OK after ‘all of that.’

The reference was to a traumatic start to my life, fifteen years of my life I’d rather not have experienced.

My inadvertent background, which I’d preferred to have forgotten, added to my shame.

Everyone in this town appeared keen on my business, making me feel under a microscope. I’d avoided meetings for over a year now, unable to face the world.

I shrugged and chose silence.

‘Like tell me, where were you?’ she insisted.

I’d been in the city, nosing around the libraries and courts, trying to find out when Franco would be released from maximum jail.

He was my cause and also my utmost fear.

I knew he was returning anytime, but I’d hoped to get a date from my last excursion to his jailhouse.

I’d had to quit my waitress gig in Moss Vale and eat into my savings to fund the travel to Sydney’s Silverwater Correctional Prison.

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