Page 6 of The Knitting Club at Wagtail Ridge

‘Um … Matt?’

‘Oh, sorry. Yes. Bree. You said in your email that you’d looked at The Gums online. How did you find me and it?’

‘How do we find anything? I googled.’

‘Have you been looking for long?’

‘I’ve been dreaming for a long time. Actively looking, not very long. This is the first place I’ve come to see.’

‘Well, shall we go and look at it, then? We can take my car. The property is only a few kilometres out of town.’

‘Great.’ She was on her feet before he was.

The drive from Wagtail Ridge to The Gums took ten minutes. Matt would normally have used that time to do his salesman’s spiel about the value of properties in this section of the Upper Hunter Valley. He would talk about the beauty of the region, which was still holding on to the last vestiges of the autumn green, while at the same time trying to gauge just how likely it was that there was a sale in the offing. But this time, he said very little as Bree exclaimed over the beauty of the landscape.

‘I love the shape of those hills. Sort of gentle but strong. And the sky is an amazing colour. It’s never quite that clear in the city. It always seems to have a grey tinge. And the clouds are never that white. I bet you have some spectacular rainbows here after the rain.’

Her voice was curiously low-pitched and pleasant to listen to.

‘Here we are,’ he said, pulling into the gateway. ‘Give me a moment to get the lock.’ He got out of the car to open the wide gate. ‘The owners moved out some time ago,’ he said as he got back in. ‘Otherwise, like most places around here, the gate is usually unlocked and open.’

‘I like the gateway.’

So did he. It was made of timber in a sort of American western style with four thick posts holding up a heavy crossbeam. The property name was burned into the crossbeam. ‘The current owners had quarter horses when they lived here. I guess it suited their marketing.’

She nodded but her eyes were already turned towards the paddocks.

‘As you know, there’s a little over fifty-six hectares—that’s one hundred and forty acres, if you prefer. The fencing is all as you see it, plain wire with a wooden top rail, except for two small paddocks near the main outbuildings. Those are fully railed.’ The words came out with practised ease. This was his job. He could make this sale. He had to.

‘They need some work.’

‘It’s been empty for almost a year. There’s been some maintenance done around the house and outbuildings, but it did suffer a bit in the summer storms.’

‘It didn’t flood. I checked the records.’

Matt was impressed. He never lied to a potential customer, but even if he was tempted, he doubted much would get past this Brianna Johnston. ‘The grazing is a bit thin right now,’ he said as they moved slowly down the gravel drive. ‘The paddocks were let out for agistment. But come spring, it’s all improved pasture. And there’s a few hectares of river flats for growing lucerne if you want.’

‘That’s good to know.’

Matt pulled up outside the homestead and they got out of the car. ‘It was well set up for a small horse-breeding operation as well as training.’

‘Oh, it’s not horses I’ll be breeding.’ Bree threw him a quick smile and set off in the direction of the stables and yards.

Matt let her go ahead. She was eager. That was a good sign. He glanced at his watch. There was time for her to have more of a look around before he needed to go back to the office.

Kim, this could be the one.

***

The Gums was exactly as it had looked in the online photographs. But photos don’t tell you everything and, in Bree’s mind, the feel of a place was the most important thing about it. She pulled her hand-knitted cardigan closely around her body to ward off the chilly breeze and looked at the nearest paddocks, assessing the grazing, shelter and water supply. Those things were vital to her plans, but her heart was doing the important work. She breathed in the crisp air, feeling the grit and the fumes of the city fading away. She loved the strength emanating from the soil beneath her lace-up hiking boots and, all around her, the wind through the trees seemed to call to her. This felt right. This place had been prosperous and loved in the past. It might be lonely now, but deep down, it was still very much alive. It could be exactly what she was searching for. Her place.

When she reached the stables, she found solidly built and functional facilities. The lower half of the structure was brick and the upper was wood, with a corrugated iron roof. Although built for horses, they would suit her needs just fine. They’d been kept shut up against the weather, so were in good shape with just a few running repairs needed to set them to rights. The weatherproof feed and tack room was a good size although she might have to clear a few of the spiders.

Bree left the stalls and walked the short distance to lean on a railed fence. The fences too were in need of work. She took hold of a rail and tugged. It was weathered and loose, but still good, solid timber. She could use the rails to rebuild and repair the existing fences. That would save money. And she had always preferred timber rails to the modern trend to metal. Timber rails were the land’s gift to the people who cared for it.

The property was looking pretty good, but there was more to inspect, and she had quite a list of things she needed if this was going to be her place. Matt Ambrose was leaning against the stable wall, watching her. She liked that he wasn’t one of those pushy salesmen and had left her alone to get the feel of the place. Him hovering would have spoiled this experience, but Bree doubted it would have put her off.

‘So far, it’s very much as I expected,’ she said as they walked side by side towards the big machinery shed.

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