Page 113 of The Vet from Snowy River
She got up and moved over to where her laptop was on its charger at the kitchen counter. She ran her finger along the space bar until the machine hummed itself back to life, then sat on the stool and flexed her fingers.
Okay. She could do this. Whoever was messing around with Josh Cody thinking they were safe behind corporate veils and nineteenth-century civic by-laws could think again. First stop, digital register of city records, she thought. If she had to blow a few hundred bucks on corporate searches, so be it. Paper records in the bowels of the town council building was next.
‘Remind me again,’ Vera said from her upside-down position on the scratched up yoga mat that Marigold had loaned her, ‘what this is supposed to achieve?’
She should be spending the early hours of her day in a ruthlessly pressed and starched apron, proving dough or caramelising butter and sugar. Instead, her pelvis felt like it was about to snap in two, her legs refused to bend in the right way, and from her head-down, bum-up position she could see shereallyought to have worn a sports bra.
‘This is the Prasarita, just relax into it and stop your whingeing.’
‘Little secret, Marigold. I’m not feeling so relaxed.’
The older woman spun deftly, like a teenage gymnast, into an odd pose that resembled an inch worm. ‘Let the body relax into the position, Vera. Then let whatever it is you’ve got bottled up in that head of yours just float out.’
A bead of sweat dripped down her face and dangled from her chin. ‘If only it were that easy,’ she muttered.
‘Tell me one horrid thing that you’d like to be rid of. Let’s send it on its way together.’
She closed her eyes and tried to think of just one. ‘I was in a relationship before I came here. I was—tricked, I think—into thinking the man I was involved with was honest. There were aspects to his personality that I was blind to. I felt like a fool when I found out.’
‘What were you blind to?’
‘It was like he had different personalities. When I was with him, for the most part, he was like this benevolent figure. Wise, I thought. Really smart at work. Always happy to give advice out. But then there’d be times when he’d get angry. Not at me … not then … but he’d disparage people who had crossed him. Call them grubs, curl his lip, that sort of thing. I was naive not to see it for what it was. I just assumed he knew more about the situation than I did, and so these people he denigrated must have deserved it.’
‘Now what do you see it as?’
‘He was a bully. But he was manipulative about it, always making sure he hid it under this benevolent exterior.’
‘Sounds like Narcissism 101 to me, Vera.’
She snorted, then climbed to her feet so she could follow along with the next torture pose. ‘Marigold, come on. Florist, yoga guru, celebrant, committee diva, craft goddess … you cannot be a psychologist as well!’
‘Give me time,’ said Marigold. ‘I’m not done living yet. Who knows what else I can be if I put my mind to it? Now come on, stand here next to me, and look out over the lake. What do you see?’
She took in a breath. ‘Water. Fields of grass on the far side with rocky outcrops here and there.’ She looked, really looked. ‘Oh, there’s wildflowers blooming below the rocky scree on that steep part. The snow gums were just dark shadows when we started, but the sun’s starting to catch them now.’
‘Beautiful, aren’t they? Those shadows of silver along the scree are snow daisies. When I first came to Hanrahan with Kev, I wondered if there were new words I needed to invent for all those lovely alpine colours. Greens and greys and browns don’t seem profound enough to capture this beautiful patch of the world we call home.’
Vera bumped her shoulder into Marigold’s. ‘You’re a romantic, Marigold.’
‘And proud of it. Maybe you should try it some time.’
‘Maybe. I do like the look of those snow daisies.’
Marigold grinned. ‘I’ll pick you some, make you a bouquet so pretty you’ll wish you were getting married.’
Like that was ever going to happen.
‘Come on,’ said her friend. ‘Let’s whizz that bully-boyfriend thought off into the never-never. Wait for a breath of wind to stir across the lake, then whoosh.’ Marigold whisked her arms away like she was wafting smoke.
‘Just … whoosh?’
‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Here’s some breeze. You ready?’
As silly as it seemed, she was ready. ‘Whoosh,’ she said.
Marigold gave a chuckle. ‘Maybe we’ll practise that some more next time. Give it a bit of oomph.’
Walking home from yoga, Vera tried to remember what it had felt like the first time she’d walked these streets. She’d been nervous, and emotional. And her thoughts had been dominated by commercial lease provisions and food handling techniques and budgets.
