Page 10 of The Knitting Club at Wagtail Ridge

‘Vicki?’ Rose asked.

‘Matt’s daughter,’ Deb said. ‘She can’t stop talking about the alpacas coming to live in the Ridge.’

‘Well, maybe soon,’ Bree said.

‘Any chance of some lunch while we finalise a few details?’ Matt asked.

‘Sure, but it’s a limited menu today. Jake’s off.’

‘Jake is the regular cook,’ Matt said. ‘He’s very good. Today is a library day so Jake is helping his wife Lou out with that.’

‘He sounds like a busy man. I hope he’ll have time to do the work I need.’

‘He will. He always does.’

‘Great. In the meantime, the menu looks pretty good to me.’

Lunch, when it arrived at their table, was nothing to be ashamed of. Matt had crumbed pork. Bree’s salad was generous and fresh, while Rose contented herself with a sandwich and a rare, for her, serving of sweet potato fries. Good fries they were too.

Rose didn’t take much part in the conversation, letting Matt and Bree finalise the deal. Rose was far more interested in the feel of the bar and the people in it. The ebb and flow of chat between them. The familiar and friendly greetings as people came and left. This, she decided, was a nice town. Bree would be happy here.

But Rose would miss her granddaughter dreadfully. For the first time, she began to fully realise how much. The two of them got together at least once most weeks and usually one day on the weekend as well. Rose didn’t have many friends. She was in her seventies. Some of her friends had died or moved away, and at her age, you didn’t make new friends easily. Her isolation during the Covid pandemic had made everything worse, leaving Rose feeling cut off from life and sometimes lonely. In all the ways that mattered, her granddaughter was her best friend. She’d never say anything to Bree, though, or try to hold her back. Rose had lived her life the way she wanted and now was Bree’s time, not hers. Although she was sure she’d manage to find an excuse to visit from time to time. As often as she was welcome.

Rose was still pondering this idea when another couple entered the bar. This time, the crowd’s reaction was different. There were no greetings from the other diners and Deb’s welcoming smile was hesitant. But it was Matt’s reaction that surprised Rose most of all. He froze, then frowned.

‘Can you please excuse me for a moment?’ he said, recovering, and left his lunch to intercept the couple as they crossed the room.

Rose didn’t try to eavesdrop but pretty much everyone in the lounge heard part of the conversation that followed.

‘… should have let me know you were coming. Please, next time …’

‘… in a bar on a Saturday. With some woman … be with our granddaughter.’ The woman had quite a piercing voice.

‘It’s business.’ Matt’s voice was firm.

Bree and Rose exchanged a surprised look, but kept their faces carefully neutral when Matt returned. Alone. The couple left the bar.

‘I am so sorry for the interruption.’ Matt didn’t retake his seat. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave. Something unexpected has come up.’

Rose could still hear the tension in his voice.

‘Of course,’ Bree said. ‘We can deal with the paperwork next week. Thank you.’

‘It’s been a pleasure.’ Matt held out his hand and Bree took it.

Then he shook Rose’s hand.

‘It’s only a short walk from here to my office where you left your car. I hope that’s all right.’

‘It’s fine,’ Rose answered. ‘We’ll have lunch and then head back to Sydney.’

‘Yes. Good. Thank you. I’ll … I’ll be in touch.’ Matt hesitated as if there was more he wanted to say, then left.

‘That was strange,’ Bree said quietly. ‘A bit rude. I wouldn’t have thought Matt was like that.’

Before Rose could reply, a voice behind her said, ‘Those are his in-laws. Well, were his in-laws. His wife’s parents. But she’s dead now.’

As Rose turned to the speaker, it wasn’t the words that surprised her most. Rose had pink streaks in her hair that occasionally slipped gently into a shade of purple or even blue. She found it cheerful to play with her hair colour and she’d never been afraid of people’s reactions. But the woman standing behind her had short, thinning hair of the most startling shade of orange. The sort of orange that would have stood out in a crowd of natural gingers. The sort of neon orange that was usually associated with glow-in-the-dark safety vests.

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