Page 26 of The Knitting Club at Wagtail Ridge

‘We have to wait, honey. Ms Johnston will want some time to settle in. We can’t just arrive on her doorstep.’

‘But,’ Jake said, ‘there is this.’ He tapped the notice.

The inaugural meeting of the Wagtail Ridge Knitting Club Saturday September 3rd. 2pm in the Wagtail Ridge Hall.

Beginners and experienced knitters welcome

Bring your own work or purchase a knitting kit

Tuition for all by Bree Johnston

‘Can I go, Daddy? Please?’

Matt read the sign again. It did sound like something Vicki would enjoy. It sounded like a community thing, so she’d be with people she knew. He hoped she wasn’t too young for knitting, but Bree would let him know if she was. His lips curved into a smile. Dropping Vicki off would be a chance to see Bree again. That would be nice.

‘Yes, honey. You can go.’

He only hoped knitting kits weren’t too expensive.

CHAPTER

11

‘I am so sorry, Mrs Fuller.’

Rose looked up from the overnight bag she was packing. Her housekeeper Janet was standing in the bedroom doorway, holding some strangely shaped crystal in her hands.

‘Janet? What happened?’ It had taken months for Rose to convince Janet to call her by her first name. She only used Mrs Fuller when something was wrong.

‘I am so sorry. I knocked this while I was cleaning the mantel.’ She held out her hands to reveal two halves of a broken vase.

Rose knew that vase. It had been presented to her by one of the charities she’d worked for when William was still alive. A momentary sadness struck her. Here was another part of her life gone. She bit back her dismay.

‘It’s fine, Janet. Honestly. It’s an old thing. Don’t worry.’

‘I can replace it, Mrs Fuller. Or pay for it.’

It couldn’t be replaced. Another crystal vase wouldn’t have her name engraved on it, wouldn’t hold the same memories. That vase was a precious part of her life. It had sat on that mantel, a constant reminder of the person she was. Or of the person she had once been. Her dismay faded to be replaced by a question. Was it a reminder or was it a relic? And did she actually care if it was on her mantel or gone?

‘Are you sure, Mrs Fuller? I know it’s precious.’ Janet was clearly distressed. She had no doubt read the engraving on the side of the vase as she dusted it time after time after time. Months, years of being dusted, but never used. Barely even looked at.

‘Of course, Janet. Don’t give it another thought.’ This time Rose meant it. ‘Just dispose of the pieces. It’s fine.’

Still looking unhappy, Janet left. Rose put the last couple of items in her bag. She was going to Wagtail Ridge today for the inaugural meeting of the knitting club to support Bree, just in case no-one turned up. She didn’t think that was likely, but you never knew. And she had to admit she was looking forward to joining the group, even if she didn’t know anyone there.

Didn’t know anyone? Who did she know here in Sydney?

The conversation she’d just had with Janet was the longest face-to-face conversation she’d had in a week. Maybe more. She always spoke to the shop assistants when she went for groceries, but that was little more than a greeting. The same applied to the doormen in this apartment building. She’d spoken to Margaret on the phone once in the last fortnight, but that too had been little more than an impersonal check that she was all right.

The truth was, Janet was the person she saw most in her daily life, and the closest thing she had to a friend.

Rose picked up her overnight bag and left the bedroom. Janet was in the kitchen, her gloved hands busy cleaning. Rose put the cash to pay for her services on the table.

‘I’m heading up to the country now, Janet, to visit my granddaughter for a couple of days.’ Rose would have liked to tell Janet, or anyone really, how proud she was of Bree. How much she hoped her granddaughter’s venture would be a success. But Janet had returned to her work, reminding Rose, if she needed the reminder, that Janet was an employee and not a friend. ‘Just lock up as usual when you are done.’

The drive north was slower than she had hoped, but as the kilometres passed, Rose felt her heart lifting in the hope that the people she’d be joining were interested in more than just polite conversations.

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