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The tyre was flat on Mary’s bike. She swore under her breath as she bent to examine it. A fifteen-minute bike ride home would now take her almost an hour to walk.
“Need a ride?”
She squinted up to see Dallas, elbow hanging out the open window of a black ute. “That would be great, I’m only down the road. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“Yeah, nah, no problem.” He hopped out and together they lifted the bike onto the flat deck. Mary climbed grate- fully into the passenger seat. Dallas was blocking the road. Bright had pulled up behind them in his silver BMW, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Is this a new car?” Mary asked.
“It’s my dad’s. He’s retired so he doesn’t use it much any more. They have a Honda Fit which is great for round town and uses less gas, so he lets me use this when I’m here.”
“Did you say you were looking for a job?” Mary clicked her seatbelt and Dallas started to drive sedately, sticking to the twenty-kilometres-per-hour speed limit. He gave Bright a little wave through the rear-vision mirror.
“Yeah, Akira’s keen to move back. She’s from here too and she’s going to set up a beauty salon from home, so it’s me that needs to find a job. Probably not the best time of year to be looking.” He turned out of the village and increased to a normal speed. “You’ll need to give me directions.”
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Mary made a quick stir-fry and sat at her kitchen table with her laptop, trying to fit all the activities she had planned into the following week’s calendar. She’d really have to stop saying yes to everything the residents asked her. It would be nice to have more of a social life too. Perhaps when Dallas and Akira had settled in, she’d have them over for dinner? Dougal might be an old grouch but he was right; she did need some more friends her own age.
Her phone dinged with a text. It was Patsy reminding her about the parcel deliveries. She’d forgotten about that but sent back a thumbs-up emoji. She’d make it work somehow.
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“Oof, my hip’s playing up again. Could you give me a hand up, love?”
Mary helped Lois up from her yoga mat. “You know, you
can do this from a chair if you want. Like Francine and Glen- da do.”
“When I get to their age, maybe I will,” Lois said. Mary recalled that Glenda was only three years older, although Francine had a few more years on them than that.
“I think it was all the sitting at Ada’s funeral. I just need to get moving. Might get on my exercycle tonight.”
“Cycling is great exercise. And you can go as slow as you need to.”
“Speaking of cycling, I noticed that Dallas chap picked you up from work yesterday. Glenda is almost beside herself with glee that he’s been courting you.” Lois’s mouth puckered as though she’d bitten a lemon.
“Dallas? No, we’re not dating. He gave me a ride home be- cause I had a flat tyre. I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but he has a girlfriend.”
Lois’s face lit up. “Well, that’s great news.” She waved to Viv and Helen who had packed up their belongings and were on their way out. “I’ve been meaning to say, love, I’m so sor- ry you were the one who found Ada. It must have been a bit of a shock.”
“It was. I haven’t been first on the scene before, though I suppose it had to happen sometime. Part of the job. Bright was lovely though. I thought he’d think I was being a big sook but he didn’t at all. I got snot all over his shirt too.”
“I have to say, I’m getting quite used to him. He even gave me a smile the other day. And he dresses so nicely. Do you
think he irons his own shirts? He doesn’t have a wife, does he?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Lois gave Mary a little nudge. “Well, he’s very good look- ing. And now that you’re not dating that Dallas ...”
“He seems very nice, but I’m sure he’s far too busy con- trolling you lot to be thinking about any of that.”
“You could always offer to iron his shirts for him. That’s a good way to show a man you’re taken by him.”
“I’m not taken by him.” Mary’s face felt warm all of a sud- den. “Now get out of here so I can tidy up.”
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Bright was probably too busy. He was running two business- es, and Mary could barely manage to organise the activities for eighty residents. The women he dated were probably the super-organised type. Career women. They’d schedule out- ings and dinners to fit in with both their hectic lifestyles. Maybe even sex was slotted in, twice a week; a weekend eve- ning and one other day. An image thrust itself into her head of rolled-up shirt sleeves and muscled arms. She couldn’t imagine limiting herself to set nights of the week if she was Bright’s girlfriend.
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Lois was standing on a chair in the entrance to the rec room, with Bets hovering nearby as though she was going to save
her if she fell, when Mary came in to use the computer the next afternoon.
“Lois, please be careful,” she said. “That doesn’t look safe.” They would be sued, she thought, if she fell and broke a hip. “What are you ladies up to?”
“Some of us have noticed,” Lois puffed, “that you’ve been as busy as a little worker bee.”
“... or a blue-arsed fly,” Bets added.
“And we thought we’d give you a hand with the decorat- ing. You always make everything so nice for us. Look at this as our way to show our appreciation.”
Mary gazed around the lounge. There was tinsel hanging from every available shelf, knick-knacks on the tables and clumps of mistletoe above each doorway. “Well, thank you. It looks very festive.” It would help with the budget as well. She might even be able to splurge on some ingredients to make Christmas fudge.
“Have either of you seen Dougal over the last couple of days?” Mary understood why Bright had told him to go away. Mostly the residents tolerated his crotchety nature but he’d been especially rude. She wanted to make sure he was all right though. It would be uncomfortable for both of them, after their last encounter, and she realised she’d been avoid- ing it.
“He was in the library earlier reading the paper,” Bets said. “Apparently they need to use a larger print and he’s going to write a letter to the Editor to tell them so.”
There was no need to go and check on him then. He was obviously back to his normal self.
Lois climbed carefully down from the chair and observed their handiwork.
“Well. It does look good, if I must say so myself. What do you think, Bets, shall we get Bright to come and have a look?” “He’s not in the office,” Janice said, overhearing as she went past. “But it looks wonderful, ladies. I’ll be sure to tell
him to have a look when he gets back.”
Lois and Bets went off, nattering about their costumes for the Christmas party.
“Make sure you tell Bright we expect everyone to dress up,” Lois called.
Janice snorted. “Good luck with that.”
Mary wondered, if he had been the dressing-up type, which he clearly wasn’t, what kind of costume he might wear.
CHAPTER 23
One in three men wait until Christmas Eve to do their shopping.