A few days later, Pip’s forced isolation came to an end when she realised she was running out of toilet paper and other vital supplies, and she headed back into town. Heaven forbid if toilet paper ever went out of stock—what would the world come to?
As the sliding door of the supermarket opened, the cold air from inside hit her in the face, momentarily catching her off guard. The small blissful sound that escaped made her pause to savour the sensation. She really needed to work on Uncle Nev about installing an air conditioner at the house.
As she perused the shelves, she overheard a number of conversations. At the end of the aisle a pair of older women were chatting about an upcoming flower show they were entering, and Pip gave a small smile as she stepped around them, only to have to squeeze past another two women blocking the aisle, this pair in their early thirties with children in their trolleys, discussing something juicy that had happened during playgroup last week.
Pip had never considered grocery shopping as a social event before. It was a chore—something you ran in to do on your way home from work, getting in and out as quickly as possible. Apparently that wasn’t the case here. In fact, no one appeared in any kind of hurry. Even the customers not talking to anyone were contentedly picking up items and strolling along, seemingly with no timetable or other place they needed to be.
Pushing her fuller-than-anticipated trolley to the checkout, she stood quietly behind the customer currently being served and tried not to listen to the conversation going on, which was difficult seeing as there was no way she couldn’t. She got a lot from the exchange, though—it was amazing what you could learn about a complete stranger.
For instance, she knew that Beryl was the customer’s name and that the cashier was married to Phil, who was the local electrician. Beryl was having trouble with a power point and the cashier was going to call her husband to drop around later today and take a look at it. At this, Pip felt her mouth drop open.
To get an electrician to come and install a security camera had taken about an hour of phone calls, and then she’d had to wait all day for him, only to have him not show up. In Midgiburra, all you had to do was complain about an issue to the local checkout operator and she’d organise the electrician with one phone call home.
‘I used to wear that look,’ a woman behind Pip said in lazy amusement.
Pip turned, feeling caught out, but managed a relieved smile when the woman only laughed.
‘I can spot a city slicker from a mile off—purely because that used to be me when I first moved here. I’m Rebecca Adams,’ she said, introducing herself.
‘Pip,’ she said, managing to mask her surprise at the unexpected exchange, ‘Davenport.’
‘Have you just moved here?’
‘Ah, no. Not really. I’m just housesitting at my uncle’s while he’s away.’
‘Oh, well that explains it, then.’
‘Sorry?’
‘The sideswiped look. It takes a bit of getting used to—small-town life.’
‘Oh. Yes, it seems to.’
‘Where are you from?’
‘Sydney,’ Pip said, finally able to start unloading her trolley as room appeared on the conveyor belt.
‘Me too—a long time ago.’
Pip eyed the woman. She didn’t look old enough to be able to say anything was ‘a long time ago’, but on closer inspection she wasn’t as young as Pip had first assumed, placing her in her thirties. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail that curled at the end, and she wore a brown and turquoise knee-length dress with short tan boots.
‘I grew up on the northern beaches, but my family moved to Brisbane when I started high school,’ she explained.
‘How did you end up here?’
‘Love,’ she sighed with a wistful shrug.
Oh no. One of them, Pip thought sadly. Just when she thought she’d met someone likeminded out here.
‘I met my husband out on a stag night in Brisbane in a bar I was working at.’
Of course she did. Soul mates.
‘We moved to Victoria and I started uni, then realised he was a tosser after he cheated on me barely six months into the marriage, by which time I’d decided I liked the idea of teaching more than I liked being married to a jerk. So, I divorced him and finished my degree, then eventually got transferred out here, where I’ve been for the last eight years.’
Maybe not so much one of them after all.
‘So what do you do with yourself all day out here, Pip? I’d imagine Midgiburra is a lot quieter than what you’re used to.’
‘I’m actually working while I’m here … well, supposed to be,’ she added.
‘Oh? What kind of work do you do?’
‘I’m a journalist … but I’m writing a book at the moment.’
Rebecca’s eyes lit up. ‘A journalist! How exciting.’
‘Sometimes,’ Pip agreed, ‘but usually it’s just a lot of waiting around and making phone calls,’ she said honestly.
‘The kids would love to meet you,’ Rebecca said, and Pip could see the woman’s mind racing as she clapped her hands together. ‘Oh my God, this is amazing timing. I teach high school, and at the moment the kids are doing a term on communication. Would you maybe consider coming in and giving them a talk about journalism?’
Pip blinked uncertainly.
‘I’m sorry. I know, I’m always rushing into stuff—this was probably the last thing you thought you’d be confronted with when you ducked into the store to buy groceries today.’
Pip managed a nervous laugh. This woman was like a small cyclone. ‘Kind of.’
‘Have you got time for a quick cuppa at the cafe next door? I’d really love to go over what I’m doing in class and give you a better idea of how a visit from you would help these kids enormously.’
‘Well, I do have a bit of work to get back to,’ Pip started, but she felt instantly bad when she saw the other woman’s face fall slightly. ‘But I guess I could spare a few minutes to have a coffee.’ It wasn’t like the book was actually flowing out of her right now, anyway.