Later that night, Lisa stood on a chair and felt along the top shelf for the packet of Tim Tams she’d bought the other day. There was no point watching her figure any more. She ripped the packet open, shoved two biscuits in her mouth and eased herself back to ground level.
The cockatoo watched from her cage on the kitchen bench. Lisa broke a Tim Tam in half and poked a piece through the wire. The bird accepted the gift with a gracious claw. Lisa had grown fond of the parrot. It was a wild animal, though. She’d have to set it free to find a new home soon.
Mojo pounced on her lap as she sat in front of the computer. Running a hand through his mane, she reached for another biscuit. His tail flicked languidly. Tomorrow she would face the horrendous task of cleaning up after the fire. Tonight she needed to focus her attention elsewhere.
Emily knew it was over the day she found Frederick in the arms of Amy, the village barmaid.
‘Farewell, Frederick,’ Emily said, concealing the ache in her heart.
‘How can I live without you?’ he cried.
‘I imagine you and Amy will manage perfectly well.’
His eyes turned dark as Guinness.
‘And you, my love?’ he asked, his eyes swimming with tears.
Emily straightened her shawl, turned away from him and strode back across the moors. She went home to drown her hurt and rage in her inkpot. Man free and in the prime of health, she produced the first of many great novels.
The End
Lisa thought she’d feel triumphant typing those last two words. She should’ve been overjoyed at finishing the book—a week before deadline, too. Instead, she felt like a dishrag wrung of its last drop of water. Now a week or two of redrafting weighed down on her. She couldn’t face the thought of wading back through the manuscript, eyeballing the inadequacy of her writing on every page. Simpler to delete the whole file and send it whirling into cyberspace.
The biscuit packet was empty. She sank into a pool of guilt and made a cup of peppermint tea. It was hard to imagine why Scott had kept Todd hidden away from her like some shameful secret. He had every reason to be proud of his son. Wise and funny, Todd was a fantastic kid. She’d never seen a young person with such empathy with animals.
She could see Scott was fiercely protective and devoted to Todd, though he’d clearly been stretching the truth about taking him white-water rafting and horse riding. But that was hardly surprising. Her relationship with Scott—not that there was one—had been based on a series of lies from the start. Since seeing Scott and Juliet at the animal shelter that morning, Lisa had been piecing things together. No wonder Scott had shown up to work at her place when it suited him. All the stories about his son needing him had been convenient excuses. He was in love with Juliet, who was an amazing woman. He had to be. He’d probably stayed countless nights at her place. No wonder Juliet had been on edge about Scott taking Lisa to the bush dance. Obviously there was something going on between them.
It was past midnight by the time Lisa put a towel over the cockatoo’s cage and climbed the stairs in Mojo’s wake. Her heart was as heavy as one of the flagstones on her kitchen floor. The Brontë sisters knew how it felt to run away from a place with their tails between their legs. Charlotte couldn’t hack more than a few months as a governess. Emily gave up her teaching job in Halifax after six months. They scuttled gratefully back to the moors.
Lisa had been nuts to move to this harsh country. She could barely afford to buy Trumperton Manor, let alone renovate it. The damage was going to cost a fortune to clean up. Her insurance didn’t extend to bush fires. Now the stables were gone, she’d never find out what happened there because no one would talk to her as she had no friends anyway.
There was no option but to cut her losses and put the house on the market. Once it was sold, she’d buy a discount economy fare back to New York, where she’d probably spend the rest of her life a bag lady. And to top it off, tomorrow was her birthday. Again.
She’d been so desperate to finish Three Sisters: Emily, she’d told Maxine and Ted to keep away. Just as well: she needed to conserve her energy more than ever, now. Besides, there was no reason to celebrate the anniversary of Jake walking out on her.
Collapsing into bed, Lisa fitted her mouthguard and earplugs, then lay on her side, waiting for the comforting plonk of Mojo landing on the covers. As the cat snuggled into the bend of her knees, she dropped into a chasm of sleep.
Lisa was woken by Mojo meowing and clawing at the curtains. She checked her phone and fought off disappointment: with California eighteen hours behind Australia, she couldn’t expect a message from Portia this early. She slipped into her kimono and opened the balcony doors. If only something magical had happened overnight. But the air smelt like the day after a cannibal feast and the view that had once sent her soul soaring was now a source of dread.
Lisa’s throat tightened at the sight of Maxine’s Golf shimmering in the driveway. She relaxed a little when she saw the Kombi van parked behind it. Ted’s alkali always neutralised Maxine’s acid. To her surprise, Doug’s old blue Honda now rattled down the drive. What was the Grey Army doing there on their day off? A silver car glided in behind it, then another. She rubbed her eyes. It was some kind of invasion.
‘Yoohoo!’ Maxine called, waving up at her. ‘I’ve brought muffins.’
Lisa waved a finger in return. She could see Ted and his friends at work gathering burnt branches and dragging them down the driveway towards the road. A man she recognised from the bush dance lifted a chainsaw from the back of his truck. Doug directed him to the remains of a burnt pine that was on the brink of toppling.
Lisa climbed into her bush-whacking pants and green check shirt from Target’s menswear section. Her blue Cancer Council hat with a brim as wide as a coral reef completed the look. Hurrying downstairs to the kitchen, she stepped into her lace-up boots. She could hear the sound of more vehicles arriving.
The cockatoo squawked from under her towel. Lisa flicked the towel off. Agitated, the bird clawed the cage door. The poor creature craved freedom. As soon as Lisa prised the cage door open, the bird pushed her way out and flapped onto the floor.
Dexter from the Women’s Monthly sailed through the back door, brandishing a bottle of whiskey. The cockatoo took the opportunity to waddle through his legs and hop down the steps.
‘I think a peace offering’s called for,’ Dexter said. ‘Single malt.’
Whiskey made Lisa gag, but she appreciated the gesture. She took a glass from the cupboard.
‘Heavens no! Far too early in the day for me,’ Dexter said. ‘I mean, what is it, ten o’clock?’
‘10.37, to be precise.’ Maxine swooshed in and spread her arms like someone parking a plane. ‘Happy birthday!’
‘Let’s save it for another year,’ Lisa said, allowing herself to be crushed into Maxine’s bosom. She waited for the inevitable tirade of ‘I told you so’s’.
‘I’m so glad you’re safe,’ Maxine whispered. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. Gordon’s organising the traffic, telling them where to park and whatnot. Go outside and meet your people.’
Her people? Mojo led Lisa out the back door. Dexter decided to stay inside and check that the whiskey hadn’t gone off. A semicircle of figures stood around the blackened ruins of the servants’ quarters.
A man with a face like a storm-ravaged cliff stepped forward to envelope her hand in his calloused paw. ‘I’m John from the hardware store,’ he said. ‘We’ll tidy this up for you in a jiff. And this is Lawrie the electrician.’
A man in his mid-thirties wearing what appeared to be a sock on his head gave her a friendly nod.
She glanced over their shoulders to the twenty or more men, women and children raking ashes and wheeling barrows of burnt wood out to the road. ‘You’re very kind, but I can’t afford . . .’
‘This is nothing to do with money,’ Juliet interrupted. Juliet had tucked her hair into a red beret, and Lisa hadn’t noticed her among the crowd. ‘We all know what you did for the Wrights,’ Juliet said. ‘We just want to say thanks.’
‘Yeah,’ added the man with the ginger moustache from the bush dance. ‘We’re here to help.’
Ted jogged down the drive, his feet flying at wild angles the way they always did. James was close on his heels, followed by Heidi and Stella. They wrapped her in their arms.
‘Happy birthday!’ Ted said, kissing her on both cheeks.
‘Sssshhh!’ Lisa said, glancing down at her boots.
We’ve just about filled up a whole skip. Another’s on its way,’ Ted said. ‘These people are amazing!’
Lisa pulled up the edge of her collar and dabbed her tears.
‘Snot alert!’ Ted announced, handing her a crisp paper tissue from his pocket. ‘Seriously, Mom, this fire damage is a great opportunity.’
‘You sound like Oprah.’
‘The servants’ wing was creepy, anyway. We’ll pull down what’s left and tidy up that area. Maybe someday we’ll build a glamorous kitchen extension there. Meantime, James wants to put in a herb garden.’
Ted offered to design a new building where the stables had been. Based on the original structure, it would be fully insulated and built to the highest environmental standards. Solar panels would be placed out of sight on the pitched roof. Tucked in the space where the hayloft once was would be what Ted called the honeymoon suite—a spacious guest room with its own bathroom. New plumbing would be part of a grey-water system for the entire house. Used water from the kitchen and laundry would be treated and filtered, to be used on the garden. The ground floor of the new stables would provide generous storage for cars and equipment. It would be sealed to modern standards, a no-snake zone.
‘It sounds wonderful but—’
Juliet interrupted. ‘All the tradesmen here are offering their services for free. And we’re getting the materials at wholesale cost.’
Lisa scrabbled for words. These people’s hearts were wider than the desert.
‘Think of it as a birthday present,’ Juliet added.
‘Yeah, happy birthday!’ John chimed in.
‘Thanks. Just another day,’ Lisa said, blushing.
With Mojo leading the way, she walked down the driveway. At the roadside a group of people were working near a skip. Lisa’s smile grew broader as they waved and called happy birthday. Dorothy Thatcher from the Women’s Monthly was barely recognisable in walk shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and a hat that looked like a UFO. She strode through the burnt forest with the chainsaw man, pointing out branches that needed chopping.
‘She’s a qualified botanist,’ Juliet explained.
‘You’ll be able to keep a lot of these trees,’ Dorothy called as Lisa approached. ‘The Australian bush is extremely resilient. It’s designed to catch fire every so often. You’ll see regrowth on this trunk in a matter of weeks.’
Aware that Dorothy was a friend of the Wrights, Lisa asked how they were getting on. Mr Wright was out of danger but still in a serious condition, Dorothy informed her. Mrs Wright was making steady progress. Though repairs to their cottage were already underway, it would be some time before they could move back in.
‘Could I visit them in hospital?’ Lisa asked.
Dorothy reacted as if she’d asked to wear the crown jewels for a day. ‘Oh they’re swamped with visitors,’ she said quickly before marching off in the direction of a large, blackened tree that was leaning perilously towards the ground. Producing an aerosol can, Dorothy sprayed a large white X on its trunk.
Lisa’s attention was diverted by a wheelchair near the front of the house. She made excuses and hurried towards it, Mojo leading the charge. To her disappointment, it wasn’t Scott hovering near Todd’s wheelchair, but Beverley and an older woman.
When Todd saw Mojo, his face beamed. The boy seemed to carry the sun around with him. ‘Is that your cat, Mrs Trumperton?’
‘Yes, that’s Mojo.’
The cat circled the wheelchair, sniffing with interest.
‘It’s all right,’ Beverley said. ‘Sharky’s in the car.’
Mojo sprang onto Todd’s lap and arched his back under the young man’s hand.
‘You should change his name to Leo,’ Todd said. ‘Shouldn’t she, Nan?’
‘Looks more like a pirate to me,’ the older woman remarked. ‘I’d call him Long John.’
‘Have you seen the cockatoo?’ Lisa asked.
‘She’s round the back doing laps of an apple tree,’ Todd replied.
‘You’re the talk of the town,’ Todd’s grandmother said to Lisa. ‘Usually takes three generations to get accepted around here.’
‘Yes, but my grandfather—’
‘She writes a good yarn too.’ Beverley shaded her eyes and shot Lisa a brisk smile.
‘I don’t think Dexter agrees,’ Lisa sighed.
‘Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s a nutty old wino.’
A yellow bulldozer rumbled down the drive. ‘Bloody good thing you had that fire,’ Scott called over the purr of the motor. ‘Saved a fortune clearing the paddock. I’ll go ahead and level it now. Still happy with that plan we drew up?’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘Happy birthday, by the way,’ he winked. ‘What’s your number?’
‘Nothing you should know about,’ she replied.
‘I was never any good at maths, anyway,’ he said, gunning the motor. ‘I’ll do an outline of the paths and the spa pool. We can change it as we go along.’
He rattled off over the paddock, chewing up ash and stones under the caterpillar tread.
‘You’re putting in a spa pool?’ Beverley asked.