Page 95 of The Vet from Snowy River
She didn’t have a building to show for family, and heritage, and history. But she had Jill’s books, her mother’s jewellery, and most important of all, she had their recipes and their love of food. She could understand the Cody siblings’ refusal to sell.
‘Then, the lawyer goes quiet. Han was pleased; thought they’d found some other property owner to harass. But then the “concerned citizen” letters started arriving at council … the nuisance complaints that threatened our business licence.’
‘Like what? What did they say?’
‘Oh, they varied. One was about chicken farming in an urban area, which was clear-cut rubbish. Another was about inadequate ID on dog collars, can you believe.’
‘And now a fire.’
Josh shook his head. ‘It’s mental. All of it. It’s not as though our building is the only one in Hanrahan. There’s a strip of Federation buildings on all four sides of the park, some of them have been on the market for years. Why us? Why be so damned persistent?’
She sighed. ‘I wish I knew of something that would answer your questions. I’m so sorry, Josh.’
They left the lakeshore behind them and turned up Cuddy Street. Jack squeezed her arm. ‘Your turn. Want to tell me what was so urgent that you took off without saying anything?’
‘I’ll tell you, I will, but let’s get inside. It’s going to take me a while to get through it.’
The cat was mewling its discontent by the time they arrived at her apartment, and she hurried into the laundry to spoon out a saucer full of fish mush. Mrs Butler had fed her last night, but she’d hoped to have been home earlier than this. The cat’s grey fur brushed her fingers as she began hoovering up her meal, and Vera gave her a quick stroke before leaving her to it.
‘Have a seat,’ she said to Josh as she returned to the living room and headed into the kitchenette to review the contents of her fridge. Did she even have any cake?
There was wine. That was a food group, wasn’t it? She pulled out a bottle of Yarra Valley chardonnay and waggled it in Josh’s direction. ‘Fancy a glass?’
‘Love one.’
He moved over to the counter and took a sip from the glass she handed him. ‘Nice. You didn’t buy this at the local bottlo.’
Vera poured herself an I-went-to-court-and-will-drink-whatever-the-hell-I-want serve of the delicate white. ‘Graeme’s broadening my palate. Last week it was a South Australian pinot noir. He slides them into my handbag with little love notes.’
Josh took another sip. ‘The man knows his beverages.’
She grinned and instantly felt better for it. God, how long had it been since she’d just … laughed? Had a silly conversation and relaxed? ‘Don’t tell him. His ego barely fits behind the counter of The Billy Button Café as it is.’
‘It’ll be our secret.’
She cleared her throat. That was a segue prompt if ever she’d heard one. ‘Speaking of secrets, Josh, I meant it when I said I’d tell you why I’ve been so … hot and cold.’
He set down his glass and then took hers and placed it on the bench so he could take her hands in his. ‘It’s safe to tell me, Vera. I promise.’
She braced herself. ‘Okay. I drove to Queanbeyan after the fire had settled down. I had to. I was in court the next morning.’
‘A law court.’
‘Yep.’
Damn it. She pulled her hands away and turned to rummage through the pantry until she could trust herself to get the words out without crumpling to her knees. Packets of rice and pink salt and pasta stared up at her from inside the cupboard. Her trusty soldiers. It would be a lot easier to share her shame with them.
She found a tin of crackers, plucked a brie and grapes from the fridge, fussed with them a little on a platter and then moved to the sofa. She met his eyes as he sat down beside her. ‘You want the short story or the long?’
He stretched out and crossed his ankles. ‘Better make it the long one.’
‘My aunt used to live at an aged care facility in the outskirts of Queanbeyan. She was there a total of four and a half years.’
‘This is Jill, who’s at Connolly House now?’
‘Yep. She’s … fading away. Quicker than I’d hoped. That fall she had last week—she’s not improving.’
‘I’m sorry, Vera.’
