Page 57 of The Knitting Club at Wagtail Ridge

‘That’s nice.’

‘This will be Vicki’s first year. Last year, she was still a bit afraid to be away from me overnight, so we went home together. But I’m glad I can stay tonight.’

‘So am I.’

That’s when Bree noticed Matt was still holding her hand from the last dance. She squeezed his ever so gently. ‘Shall we go and send Vicki on her way with her friends?’

He nodded.

CHAPTER

22

‘Enough! I need to sit down.’ Rose was breathing heavily.

‘Me too.’ Mike took her hand and led her off the dance floor. ‘Shall we get a drink and some fresh air?’

They stopped at the bar long enough to acquire a beer for Mike and some cider for Rose. Then they quietly slipped out the front door of the hall. In the grassed area beside the children’s playground, the wooden picnic tables were deserted and the two of them dropped onto a bench.

‘That’s the most fun I’ve had in ages,’ Rose said as she sipped her drink.

‘What? You mean there’s no fun to be had in the big city?’

‘Plenty of it. But I’m getting too old.’

‘No, you are not.’ Mike turned to look her in the face. That look was … disconcerting. There was something in his eyes Rose hadn’t seen in a long time.

‘Wagtail Ridge is starting to grow on me,’ she said, looking away. ‘And Bree seems happier here than I’ve seen her in … ever, I guess.’

‘What about you, Rose? Are you happy in your high-rise apartment down there in Sydney? With your harbour view?’

‘How did you know? Oh. The grapevine has been at work again.’

‘I do believe there was some talk about it at the knitting club. And, well …’

‘Of course. Val was there. There must be an echo in the hall. She seems to overhear every conversation, even if she’s on the other side of the room. One of these days she’s going to get someone in trouble.’

‘Not this time. At least I hope not. And you haven’t answered my question.’

Rose sat still for a moment, staring out into the darkness, feeling the cold can of cider in her hand, listening to the rustling of the trees and the music and voices floating from the hall. She was very aware of the man sitting beside her; the strength of him and the warmth that seemed to flow from him. She dropped the glib answer that she had become accustomed to giving. ‘I’m not unhappy. I was always glad to see Bree. Her visits were the highlight of my week. But to be honest, since she left, I’m not so sure “happy” is the word I would use.’

‘And right here? Right now? Would you use that word?’

‘Maybe.’

Mike smiled. He had a nice smile, honest and open. And it reached all the way to his eyes.

A night breeze wafted over them, bringing with it a slight chill. Rose put down her cold cider and rubbed her hands together to warm them.

‘Are you cold, Rose?’ Mike took her hands in his and began to gently rub them. His skin was rough with hard work, but at the same time his touch was soft, and the shiver working its way up Rose’s spine had nothing to do with the temperature.

‘Do you want to go back inside?’

‘No.’ Rose allowed herself to lean into Mike.

He placed an arm around her shoulders. ‘Is that better?’

‘Yes. Tell me more about being a shearer. Do you work all year, or is it seasonal?’

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