TWENTY-ONE
Twenty-one
‘Hey, I was just about to call you with my flight details,’ Emma said, greeting Bel on the phone.
‘Great. So, I was wondering, when you were planning on coming clean about the stuffed rooster in the feed shed?’ Bel asked casually.
The silence on the phone was confirmation of what Bel had suspected.
‘I was planning on getting rid of that when I came back.’
‘Getting rid of it?’
‘Returning it, whatever,’ Emma said.
The shrug in her tone was annoying Bel. ‘What are you doing with it in the first place?’
‘It was a dare, of sorts,’ Emma said, sounding a little less offhand and a lot more sheepish.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Craig and I were out on our wedding anniversary, we were reminiscing about our youth and how much fun we used to have, and … how boring we’ve become,’ she sighed deeply. ‘There’d been a fair bit of alcohol consumed with dinner and we were walking past the museum. I don’t know, I just had this crazy idea. I dared Craig to do something illegal and the least likely thing to get prison time for was to break into the museum. So he double-dared me and … we did it. Together.’
‘The least likely thing to get prison time for? Good grief, Em, you’re supposed to be a respectable parent. You’re on the P you just learned to move forward with it.
‘I like the noise and chaos at Fernvale. I never had it,’ he said, turning back to face her before searching in the cutlery drawer and retrieving a spoon.
‘Being an only child? Yeah, I get that. It’s one of the things I love about being part of Emma and Craig’s crazy life too.’
‘For a long time, it was just Dad and me out here, and he wasn’t a great conversationalist at the best of times.’
‘Did you two never get on?’ she asked, curious about a topic they hadn’t really discussed much.
Dean quietly stirred the gravy before answering. ‘It wasn’t that we didn’t get on. I mean, we had farming in common, but we never really talked. He’d grunt here and there and tell me what I had to do the next day, but we wouldn’t talk about our days or anything. Dinner was always silent with the news on in the background. At breakfast we’d have the radio, local news and weather.’
Bel couldn’t help but feel for the younger Dean. The picture he’d painted sounded incredibly lonely.
‘He was of that generation where men were stoic and worked until they dropped dead out in the paddock. Which he did, quite literally.’
‘Was it a farming accident?’
‘Heart attack. His doctor had been telling him for years to change his diet and had tried to get him to take medication, but Dad didn’t have time for any of that. He was a stubborn bastard,’ Dean muttered, shaking his head. ‘I guess part of me feels guilty that I wasn’t here when it happened.’
‘Feeling guilty is understandable, but even if you were here, what you could have done?’
‘Yeah, I guess. He never really forgave me for not coming back to work this place. I wish now that I’d come back sooner. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything, but I’ll always regret not making things right between us before he died.’
Bel closed the gap between them and slipped her arms around his waist. The hug seemed to surprise him, and he initially remained stiff before relaxing against her and hugging her tightly back. She wasn’t sure there were any words to take away the regret he felt—she only knew she wanted to ease some of the pain he was carrying.
They stood quietly like that for a long time before he let out a muffled expletive at the scent of smoke and released her to grab a set of oven mitts and retrieve the charcoal-encrusted garlic bread from the oven.
The meal had been delicious, despite the extra crunchy bread, and Bel found herself comfortably satisfied with a full tummy and a warmth inside that continued to grow as she spent more time with this man across the table from her.
The next morning, Bel kissed Dean goodbye as they left the house together.
‘Stay in bed longer,’ he’d told her as his alarm went off.
‘No. I have a few things I want to do in town this morning anyway,’ she’d said, reaching up to kiss him lazily.
She could certainly get used to waking up beside him every day. She pondered that thought. She honestly could. She was beginning to hate the time they spent apart and counted down the hours until they saw each other again. Luckily, he didn’t have an employer to explain his rather late start that morning when they’d finally gotten out of bed and dressed. She looked back in her rear-view mirror and saw him standing where she’d left him in the driveway, still watching her, and a happy smile broke out on her face.
She wasn’t sure what the immediate future held in store for her, but she was going to have to think about it soon. She wasn’t going to be able to stay at Emma’s once Craig came home, and even though that might still be some time away, it was going to happen. She had Gran’s house, but it was currently being rented out and she was worried about what her return would mean for her tenant. She swore silently. She was definitely not cut out for the landlord business.
She’d dropped by one morning when she’d first come back, seeing Bert out in the garden and stopping to have a chat. He’d been so grateful she’d rented him the house and he clearly enjoyed living there. The garden had never looked better. She felt a small pang of emotion as she thought about how happy Gran would be to know someone was taking care of her beloved flowers.
She pulled up in front of the house now and let out a long breath. She had to at least let Bert know there was a possibility that she may need to move back into her house, to give him some warning. She hated the thought of doing it to him.
She knocked on the door but there was no answer. It was possible he’d gone into town or something, but then … Bert was elderly. What if something had happened and he couldn’t get to the door?
‘Hello, dear. Are you looking for Bert?’
Bel turned and spotted a familiar face over the low side fence. ‘Hello, Mrs Vernon. Yes, I was. He’s not answering the door though.’
‘No, he’s in hospital. Poor man had a fall a couple of days ago. I called his son to check on him and he said Bert was waiting to have an operation. I haven’t heard anything since. I didn’t like to bother the family. You know how it is, dear,’ she added, clearly concerned for her neighbour.
‘I hope he’s okay.’
‘I can give you the son’s number, if you like. If you find out anything, do let me know, won’t you?’
‘Of course,’ Bel assured her.
‘It’s a worry, when you get old and a bit shaky on your feet,’ Mrs Vernon said as she led Bel to her house to get the phone number. ‘I’m very fortunate that I have my two daughters nearby, and my grandchildren. They keep an eye on me. Poor Bert, his children don’t live locally. Luckily it happened outside in the garden or he may not have been found as soon as he was,’ she tsked.
Bel could only imagine how scary living alone could be for older people. Her thoughts briefly went to Dean’s father, and how horrible it would have been for him as well, dying alone out there, and she felt how the burden of that knowledge must weigh on Dean’s shoulders. Not that all the blame could rest on Dean—his father was a grown man who at any point could have tried to reach out to his son. Pride was a terrible thing when it stood in the way of happiness.
The town was busy. The excitement hadn’t really stopped since the whole Elvis fiasco, although it had settled into a more manageable bustle now that the media circus had moved on to a new scandal somewhere else.
There’d been one update about the mysterious return of Elvis the rooster on morning TV. They hadn’t come out to Wessex but had interviewed Betty via videocall, which showed how much the story had fallen from public interest.
‘Betty, it’s a miracle,’ the female co-host announced as an opening. ‘Elvis is back!’
‘Yes, he most certainly is and we’re all very relieved,’ Betty, crossing from the museum, confirmed.
‘Do we have any idea who was responsible? Were there any clues? We know the rooster-nappers left a ransom note when they stole him, but do we have an explanation about where he’s been or, more importantly, who took him?’
‘No,’ Betty informed them quite seriously. ‘There was no note when they returned him. We still don’t know who took him or why. It’s a big mystery to everyone.’
‘Well, on the upside, if there was anything good to come from this tragedy,’ the male co-host said with a completely straight face, ‘it’s that the town of Wessex has seen an unprecedented rise in visitors. How are the locals handling their newfound fame?’
‘It’s been very busy in Wessex, and we’re all extremely grateful for everyone’s well wishes. There’s been plenty of celebrating since Elvis’s return and we look forward to continuing to welcome visitors to our little town and now being able to showcase our very special mascot.’
‘Well, we’re all extremely happy Elvis has been returned home where he belongs, and we wish you all the best.’
The segment ended and Emma burst into uncontrollable laughter beside Bel on the lounge, where they’d been watching on the TV.
‘There is nothing amusing about any of this,’ Bel told her friend, eyeing her with a narrowed gaze.
‘Oh, come on, Bel. I’ve said I was sorry a million times. But even you have to see the absolute genius, albeit unintentional genius, of the whole thing? It’s put us on the map.’
‘Dean and I could have been caught putting that stupid thing back. Can you imagine the uproar that would have caused?’
‘Stop being so dramatic. Betty would have nominated you for Citizen of the Year next Australia Day ceremony,’ Emma said dismissively.
‘Betty would have been devastated that her theory about Bob Baxter being the criminal was wrong,’ Bel corrected.
Bel had been concerned that once the whole social media thing had died down, so too would the unexpected tourist trade, but her dire predictions hadn’t proved true. All the hype had alerted people to another ‘big’ thing to add to their sightseeing list. Word of mouth was sending a steady stream of people out to see this part of the country, and everyone in Wessex was reaping the rewards.
Emma’s departure was every bit as sad as Bel was expecting. When Dean came to pick her up and drive her to the airport, the kids cried as they waved her off. Bel spent the rest of the afternoon sitting with them quietly and coming up with ideas for the welcome-home party they would undoubtedly be having once their father was well enough to return to Fernvale. It may have been a little premature, but it helped to distract and cheer them all up somewhat.
When Dean came back, he brought ice cream; having four children on a sugar high right before bedtime was deemed okay, just this once.
As Bel and Dean sat together on the lounge after a very long bedtime tuck-in routine, wine in hand and listening to nothing but the sounds of nightfall outside, Bel was finally able to let out a long breath.
‘I hope they let Craig come back soon. The kids have been through so much upheaval. They need to have their dad back home, in whatever capacity that turns out to be.’
‘Emma reckons he’s making progress. At least she sounded positive when she was talking to me about it,’ Dean said. His arm around her felt solid and she buried herself closer into his side.
‘They’re still going to need his family’s help for a while, though. I think we need to be prepared that it’s going to take a long time before he’s back to where he was before the accident.’
‘He’ll get there,’ Dean said.
‘I hope so.’
‘He’s a tough bugger—always has been. You’ll see. He’ll do whatever needs to be done and probably in half the time the doctors reckon he will.’
Bel latched onto Dean’s words and held them close to her heart, praying he’d be right. Emma and the kids needed him back.
Her phone beeped on the lounge beside her and she gave a small groan as she read the text.
‘What is it?’ Dean asked, lifting his head from where he’d dropped it back against the head rest.
‘I’ve been summoned to dinner tomorrow night at Glentoberon. Aunt Lois just texted me.’
‘I thought they were still away?’
‘So did I. Apparently, they’re back.’ She’d thought she’d been saved from family duties for a while. Great.
‘It’s not like you’ll have to say much. You won’t be able to get a word in edgewise with your aunt.’
Bel sighed. Larkin must have passed on the news that Bel was back in town. In typical Larkin fashion, she’d gotten over her earlier huff about Bel not cooperating by going to the reunion. She never stayed angry long and besides, she’d had too much tea to spill about the week not to give in and call when she got back to Sydney. Apparently Tate had been a no-show and two others had pulled out at the last minute—namely Niki and Kelly, when they found out that Oliver had been up to his old tricks again, this time with Gigi—so it had been a complete disaster.
It would be fine. It was just dinner. How bad could it be?