Page 16 of The Knitting Club at Wagtail Ridge

‘Ms Johnston is very nice,’ Matt said carefully.

‘She’s going to let me talk to her alpacas.’

‘Yes, she is, but you have to be patient. It may not be for a little while yet.’

‘I know.’

‘Why don’t you go and read your alpaca books so you’ll know all about them when you meet them?’

Vicki didn’t need telling twice.

As she settled on the corner sofa to read, Matt felt a ton of guilt settle on his shoulders. Should he say something to his daughter about that hug she had witnessed? It was only a hug, but kids do have their own way of looking at things. And he didn’t want Vicki to get hurt, thinking … Well, whatever it was she might think.

He decided against it. Vicki’s excitement over the alpacas had obviously pushed everything else from her mind. Besides, what would he say? That Bree had hugged him and it was nothing, simply a way of saying thank you? That would be the truth, even if a very quiet voice deep inside him hoped that maybe it wasn’t.

It was nothing, Kim. Just her excitement. She’s very nice, but no-one will ever replace you. Not for Vicki and not for me either.

***

When Bree reached The Gums, the gate was locked. Leaving her engine idling, she got out of the car and pulled the key ring Matt had given her from her bag. Looking down at the keys, she felt a moment of panic. This had been her dream for as long as she could remember. These past few years of hard, hated work had all been about getting to this moment. She was proud and eager, and suddenly a little frightened. Could she do this? When Matt had handed her those keys, she had gone from being a successful Sydney lawyer to being a farmer. The first she knew she could do, but the second? She wasn’t at all sure she could be that.

There was, however, no going back. Not to her job, at least. All her cases had been handed over to other people at the firm. And the newly formed estate-planning department was being led by someone else. As for her relationship with her parents, her mother was still angry and her father was still disappointed, but he was talking to her. Margaret had withdrawn inside her anger, and they’d barely spoken since Bree had walked out of the office for the last time. She hated that, but there wasn’t anything more she could do, except hope that eventually her mother would come around. And as of today, her flat was no longer hers. She had handed over the keys this morning. At the end of this day, she would not be returning to Sydney. Wagtail Ridge and The Gums were her home now.

She took a firm grip on her emotions, then found the right key. When the lock opened, she pulled the chain out of the gate and tossed it in the boot of her car. She pulled the gates wide open and left them that way as she drove towards the house. She parked the car as close to the door as she could—there were a lot of boxes to carry inside. But on the first trip, she took nothing. She flung the front door wide open, letting the crisp, cold air inside the house to blow away the stuffiness that always invades houses that are no-one’s home.

While the house was getting a breath of fresh air, Bree decided to have another quick look at the outbuildings. She walked down to the shed and stables and immediately started a mental list of what needed to be done before her animals could arrive. One phone call was all it would need to get them here, but first, she had to make sure they’d be safe. Some of what needed to be done she could do herself. But some of it would need two sets of hands and more skill or strength than she possessed. She might yet take up Matt’s suggestion of getting that man—Jake—to do some of that, assuming she could afford it. She had money set aside for repairs but those funds were limited, at least until she started generating income from this project. If she ever did.

She thrust that thought aside. This would work. It had to.

She was still making plans when she shivered; the sun was almost gone and the temperature was dropping quickly. She walked quickly back to the house. Closing the front door behind her, she flicked on the light. Then flicked it again. Nothing. Although she knew the result would be the same, she tried the switch one more time. Still nothing. And there was no light in the kitchen either. What a great start to her new venture. Her shoulders sagged.

If her mother could see her now, she’d tell her she was a fool. That this was always going to be a disaster and she should pack it in and head back to Sydney and the firm where she belonged.

No. She belonged here. The power company failing her wasn’t an excuse to give up. She’d been so excited to get here. So excited, she’d hugged a stranger. Well, Matt wasn’t really a stranger. He was part of her journey to this place. She wasn’t going to let him down. Or the little girl who wanted to meet alpacas. Or Nan, who was looking forward to her first visit. Most importantly, she wasn’t going to let herself down.

She’d spotted a pile of split wood near the shed earlier. That would get a fire going. She’d boil some water on the stove and a cup of tea would set things right. Water! She walked through to the kitchen and turned the tap on. The only result was a few gurgling noises. Of course, with no electricity, the water pump wasn’t working. She couldn’t even have a cup of tea. And what about the toilet?

She lifted her face to the ceiling and gave a short sharp scream. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be—she was supposed to spend this evening getting comfortable in her new home. She’d thought she was prepared, but obviously she wasn’t.

Was her mother right?

The thought of telling her parents she’d made a mistake was almost more than she could stand. Margaret wouldn’t say ‘I told you so’, she wouldn’t have to. The look on her face would say it all. And if Bree gave up now, her mother would be right.

No. That would not happen. She could always go to the pub for a night, but even that felt like a kind of defeat. She could do better. She’d brought an airbed with her and some blankets. Food too. Water was the only real problem.

She walked outside and stared at the concrete tanks. One of those tanks must have a tap. All she had to do was find it.

She could do this.

And she did.

She brought in her boxes from the car, pumped up the airbed and set it up in the living room. The wood she found by the shed was dry and there was enough bark to make kindling. As the first flames flickered and began to take hold, Bree crossed her fingers that the flue would be clear. It was, and soon a cheerful fire was adding light and warmth to the room. She’d found a bucket in the shed, filled it with water and had it standing by in the bathroom. More water was in the kitchen, offering the hope of a morning cup of coffee.

If Nan could see her, she would cheer her on, reminding her that nothing worth having ever came easy. Bree thought about calling her, but decided that could wait until tomorrow. This was her night. She walked into the kitchen, to one of the boxes she had not yet touched and delved around inside for a minute, emerging with a wine bottle. Her parents always celebrated family milestones with the best French Champagne in long-stemmed crystal glasses. Well, Bree was in the Hunter Valley now, so a glass of good Hunter red seemed perfect. She didn’t have any wine glasses, they were coming tomorrow with the rest of her things. Instead, she pulled a coffee mug out of another box. It had been clean when she packed it, so she grabbed the box of assorted foodstuffs and returned to the fire. She sat cross-legged on the floor, opened a packet of Tim Tams and filled the coffee cup with wine. Then she raised it to the flickering fire in a toast.

CHAPTER

8

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