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‘Howdy, stranger. How are you settling in out there on Kinross Road?’ asked Mac Turner who she hadn’t seen since the day she’d met Noah.
‘Oh, yeah, great, thank you. The house is coming along.’
‘No doubt, it will be fantastic, particularly with Noah Hawthorn at the helm. If you want to capitalise on the renovations and sell up when it’s finished, I’m your man.’
Luckily by then, Ava had reached the front of the coffee line and had to leave Mac and place her order. Honestly, sell up after she’d renovated? Where would she live? But what if she was found… … would she sell then? She dashed those thoughts away and heard Mac giving someone else his spiel while she waited. Walking a little further on with the coffees in her hand, she spied Caleb and Bridie and their French pastry stall.
‘Yum!’ she exclaimed as she approached.
Bridie came out of the stall and embraced her. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t caught up since last time we saw each other. How is everything? I hear you did end up choosing Noah as the builder. So glad I could help and reassure you. Where’s your gorgeous little boy?’ Bridie scanned the surrounds.
Ava laughed. ‘Oh, he’s off with a friend going on the rides. The kids love them, don’t they?’
‘Sure do. He’ll probably run into Sybella out there somewhere. But don’t worry, they’re perfectly safe. It’s a community around here, we look out for each other.’
Someone patted her back from behind. ‘Such exciting news, so happy for you.’
Bridie gazed at her with raised eyebrows. Ava shrugged.
‘These look delicious, Caleb. Can I have one of each please? I’ll save one for Duke and deliver a treat with Noah’s coffee.’ She watched as Caleb made his selection and her mouth watered at the strawberry tart, chocolate éclair and lemon meringue with its toasted caramel top. Bridie grinned in her direction, the gaze seemingly loaded with the words she wasn’t saying.
Hands full of goodies now, she needed to find Noah to lighten her load. It was Otis they saw first as they passed the animal petting zoo, the kebab shop with its divine frying onions scent and then on past the Laughing Clowns game where a bunch of kids were lined up hopeful of winning a prize. Then there was an aquarium and second-hand book stall and antique bric-a-brac. She’d check that one out later. Finally spotting Noah, he was once again deep in conversation with a man who appeared distressed.
‘Coffee and cake,’ she whispered and left the goodies on a table to his left hopeful he’d get a chance to take a break and enjoy. Departing the marquee with its long, narrow table of brochures, Ava picked one up and read the attention-grabbing headline.
Fathers, you have rights too! Are you in the middle of a family law dispute? There are two parents in every divorce, you are just as important as the mother. Don’t let a heavily biased system rip you off. Join our group to ensure your rights are protected.
What sort of group was this? A half-dozen men stood around chatting, their arms gesticulated with force, faces were screwed up with emotion and the entire space was filled with hot testosterone. Not her sort of stall. She dropped the flyer back on the table as if it burnt her fingers.
Noah was generally calm, but there’d been those few occasions she’d seen him worked up. Usually when talking about his daughter and about the development of the town. Those subjects caused his feathers to ruffle. But she’d never heard him yell or lose control. A loud commotion erupted behind her and she glanced back and flinched. One man pointed a finger at another while others rushed forwards to calm him. Goose bumps erupted along her arms and legs, cooling her skin. Her husband had never spoken to her like that, but she’d been in the presence of family members who’d had no qualms about shouting into their wives faces and making them recoil in fear until they submitted. Ava had always wondered how long it might be until Henry did the same. Jamila’s husband, on the rare occasions they’d been alone, had spoken to her in terms she hadn’t appreciated but he’d fallen short of shouting; but the words themselves were enough to instil dread.
Ava scooted out of there. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the Ferris wheel and headed towards it. There was a pink carriage at the top and tiny hands reached out through the cage and were waving at someone, metres below. Now she had to watch where she was walking as she navigated through tables and chairs set up for patrons to have a rest and enjoy their food. Peter from Café Antiquities sat at one table alone. With half a coffee remaining, she’d sit with him for a moment and then find Ish.
‘Peter, hello.’ Would he remember her?
‘Oh, hello, love.’ His gaze was distant. She saw the moment he placed her. ‘Having fun?’
‘Um, yes, I think so. Might I sit for a minute? Would you like to share my French chocolate éclair?’
‘No, thank you, dear, but only because I’ve just finished one of Caleb’s delicious strawberry tarts. Wonderful! And now I’m finishing my tea.’
They enjoyed a few minutes of quiet chat before Sheila joined them.
‘Ava! I’ve just heard! How wonderful for you. I didn’t realise what you’d found out there in that big, old house and its land that spreads for miles. Exciting. You didn’t mention it, did you? I would have remembered?’
Sheila spoke quickly and Ava struggled to keep up. When she’d finished, she fussed over Peter wiping his chin with a serviette, pouring him more tea from a flask and plonking herself down in a chair. Then she turned to her expectantly.
‘Um, I’m not sure what you’re talking about. A journalist from the local paper came around yesterday and I told him about some French relics I’ve found at the house that I’ll eventually donate to the History Centre. Is that what you mean? But how could you have possibly found out so soon? Surely it isn’t in today’s edition?’
Sheila gave her a quizzical look, reached into her duffel bag and retrieved The Bellethorpe Times, threw it down onto the plastic table where it landed front page up. The headlines screamed at her and the food she’d just eaten raced back up her throat, stinging and tasting of bile. She covered her mouth.
Major historical fossil find on property in Bellethorpe
A quick scan of the first three sentences confirmed her worst fears. It mentioned an extinct old horned turtle found in the bushes of a property owned by her, it revealed her name! Albeit her maiden name, not her married name. Her eyes danced over the rest of the words, blurring as she sped-read. Folding open the spread, the piece covered two pages, today’s top and best news. Random photographs had been included that she didn’t recognise. An archived turtle shot that she was pretty sure wasn’t like what they’d found and some grassy fields, dig sites. She squinted. Was that her property? Fear didn’t claw at her belly now, it suffocated her. Did the photo give away her location? It didn’t appear so, but she didn’t quite trust her vision that was now blurry and she rapidly blinked and rubbed at her eyes to clear them.
Sheila spoke. ‘You’re very lucky. Often our local stories get picked up by the national newspapers. This’ll be across the country in no time. Our little town will be famous!’
She looked up. Daisy barked. Across the field walking towards her were three men in dark suits, wearing shaded sunglasses, white string ties, and leather shoes. They wore thick wristwatches and matching black hats with white bands. Had her husband sent his henchmen? Were they coming for her?
