Page 38 of The Knitting Club at Wagtail Ridge

A woman who was not Kim.

He tried to speak. Find some way to explain why this was wrong, but he couldn’t. He shook his head, took another step backwards.

Bree’s face fell as confusion and regret swept over her features. But still he could say nothing, he only shook his head again and walked back into the house, firmly shutting the door behind him.

CHAPTER

15

Something was not right. Rose could sense it.

The second meeting of the Wagtail Ridge Knitting Club was in full swing. Rose had come up again to support Bree, in case too many of the initial starters decided the club wasn’t for them. But her support wasn’t needed; the big, empty hall might lack the intimacy and warmth that another, smaller venue might offer, but that hadn’t deterred anyone. Almost everyone who’d been at that first session was back and there were a couple of new faces. There was one notable exception, though. Matt had dropped his daughter off and bolted as if there was a pack of wild dogs behind him. There might have been some formidable women in the group, but Rose didn’t think that was the problem.

The meeting was going brilliantly. Across the table, Bree was sitting next to the librarian, Lou, and looking at her work. Bree seemed fine. She was laughing, talking to people and offering a helping hand wherever it was needed. She’d sold a couple more knitting kits. The tea table was covered with donated cakes and biscuits, more than the knitters could possibly eat. But Rose knew Bree well—perhaps too well. Something was bothering her granddaughter.

Beside her, a young voice giggled excitedly. ‘Look, Granny Rose. I’m nearly finished.’

‘Oh, can I have a look, Vicki?’ Rose said, trying to hide her grin. She wasn’t sure quite how she had become Granny Rose, but she liked it. It was exactly what Bree had called her when she was six.

Vicki held up her scarf. The stitches were loose in places and tight in others, and Rose could see at least one dropped stitch. The smile on the little girl’s face was a joy.

‘It’s wonderful. But I think, though, you have dropped a stitch here. Can I help you fix it?’

Vicki nodded solemnly and handed over the needles. Rose recovered the dropped stitches and soon had Vicki back on track.

‘This is for your dad, isn’t it?’

Vicki nodded vigorously.

‘He’s going to love it, because you made it.’

‘With Bree’s help.’

That was interesting. When had ‘Miss Johnston’ become Bree?

‘Bree is very helpful.’

‘We went to her farm,’ Vicki said as her hands struggled with the needles. ‘I helped her look after Digby. He’s one of the alpacas and he was hurt.’

Bree had mentioned that on the phone last week. ‘That was very good of you. I think Digby is better now.’

‘He is. Bree came to our house and told me he was much better. And we had dinner and played Squatter. But I pretended the sheep were alpacas. I think alpacas are much nicer than sheep. Don’t you?’

‘I do.’

‘They’re not better than ponies, though. I think alpacas and ponies are both nicest.’

‘I think you are probably right about that.’ Rose wondered why her granddaughter hadn’t mentioned that dinner. And whether that was the reason for the tension she’d felt.

‘Then I saw Daddy kissing Bree.’

Rose blinked. Across the table from Vicki, she saw the orange-haired woman—Val from the post office—stiffen. If this was supposed to be a secret, it wasn’t going to be for long.

‘I was supposed to be in bed, but I woke up and went looking for Daddy. He was outside kissing Bree like he used to kiss Mummy.’

‘There’s lots of reasons why people kiss. It just means they are friends. Now, Vicki, you are running out of wool. Do you know how to cast off or do you need me to show you?’

The distraction worked on Vicki, who soon forgot all about the kissing, but it didn’t do so well with Val. A couple of minutes later, when one of the other ladies got up to pour herself tea, Val followed her to the refreshments table. It was clear what was being said from the whispered conversation and the look of surprise on the other woman’s face. Without hearing a word, Rose watched the information spread around the table. Bree seemed oblivious.

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