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‘I see.’ Unmoving, he regarded her thoughtfully.
‘So how is your granny?’
‘She’s great, living in a retirement village, but still as strong as an ox. I make sure I catch up with her every week for a cuppa, or some dinner.’
‘Ha, yes, she was a tough nut, from what I can remember of her.’ Samantha smiled at recollections of Granny sweeping the front porch of her little cottage until there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. ‘It’d be nice to see her while I’m back, she was always so kind to me.’
‘I’m sure she’d love to see you, so I’ll try and arrange it.’
‘Thanks, Connor.’
Another couple of breathless seconds passed.
‘Righto.’ His hardworking hand tapped the banister. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’
‘Yes, okay, right you are.’ Folding her arms, she nodded.
‘That was very regal sounding, Sammie.’ He chuckled, and then turned on his heel. ‘That British life is rubbing off on you way too much,’ he called out without looking back at her.
And thank god for that because she could swear her face had just turned a bright shade of red. Silently chastising herself for sounding hoity toity, she watched him go back to his horse, give its long neck a tender rub as he said something too soft for her to hear, reach into his saddlebag, then head towards the shed, a six-pack of beer in hand. She couldn’t tear her eyes off him until he’d disappeared through the doorway, and she almost choked on her shock when he paused ever so briefly to acknowledge her with one last Connor Gunn smile.
Retiring back to her swing chair, she passed a dreamy hour until the sun had sunk completely, the golden orb bowing out to the sparkling brilliance of night. Then the earth began to get sleepy, and the only sound now was the breeze stirring the leaves of the surrounding trees. The mesmerising pulse of it all drew her to her feet, and she padded down the steps and onto the lush green lawn. It felt cool and soft beneath her bare feet. Wrapping her arms around herself she felt the physical pull of the landscape, luring her deeper into its healing heartbeat. She’d all but forgotten just how magically alive her old hometown felt. Staring into blackness, she pondered the fact that she felt like the only person in the entire world right now. It was almost overwhelming to believe it was so. The big smoke of London didn’t allow for such a poignant sensation – it was one she hadn’t experienced for a very long time. So, closing her eyes, she drew in a long, slow breath, feeling as if it were the first decent one in years. Goosebumps rose and covered her entirely as she felt the land beneath her feet somehow lift her, so she felt lighter, less weighed down by her myriad problems.
***
The spellbinding sense of being looked after just by being among the nature of Gum Tree Gully carried through her deep peaceful sleep and into the next sunshine-filled day. Sitting at the breakfast bar after her morning shower, enjoying her first cuppa for the day, along with a piece of Shea’s homemade sourdough thickly spread with Vegemite, Samantha watched her dear friend hustle about her happy place. Beside her, Amaya was drawing colourful pictures with her crayons, and Fudge sat loyally at her feet. There was a lot to be said for the family vibe of this loving household.
‘Would you like some crispy skin teriyaki salmon and stir-fry sesame veggies for dinner tonight, Sammie?’ Shea called over her shoulder as she prepared Jack’s lunch for the day.
‘Oh yum, would I ever.’ Samantha smiled over the rim of her cup at her dearest friend in the whole wide world. ‘We’re very very lucky, having you take care of us all like you do, Shea.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Shea readjusted her glasses, then tossed a hand through the air. ‘I love cooking for my loved ones, it makes me a happy little camper.’
‘I see that, and it makes us happy little Vegemites.’ Making sure she had the black stuff smeared on her lips and teeth, Samantha grinned. ‘See, I’m absolute proof of that.’
Shea turned and buckled over with laughter. Her mirth drew a sideways glance from a very concerned Amaya. ‘You’re so silly, Aunty Sammie.’ Eyes wide, she covered her mouth, laughing into her hand.
‘Am I?’ Samantha grinned wider. ‘Why’s that?’
Amaya pointed, giggling. ‘Because you’ve got Vegemite all over yourself.’
‘I have, have I?’ She pulled a face, enticing louder laughter from Shea and Amaya. Licking it from her lips, she tipped her head. ‘Better?’
Grinning from ear to ear, Amaya nodded.
Rising to her feet, Samantha sculled the last of her coffee, rinsed her cup and then popped it into the dishwasher. Miranda Lambert’s ‘The House That Built Me’ began to play from the radio. A fitting song, she thought, given the fact she’d spent so much time here, and she felt a bubble of nostalgia rise and settle.
Shea regarded her over the top of her glasses. ‘What are you up to today? Any plans?’
It was a perfect day outside, so outside she was going to be for a good part of the morning and early afternoon. ‘I’m going for a wander out yonder.’ She brushed a kiss on Shea’s cheek. ‘Jack is letting me use the four-wheeler, so I’ll catch you a bit later on, when we head into town to finalise the flowers.’
Shea smiled. ‘Okey dokey, enjoy, my lovely. And make sure to be careful on that bike, too.’
‘Will do.’ She sung the words of Miranda’s emotional song to herself as she made her way out of the kitchen and down the hallway. ‘See you at two-ish.’
The stained-glass panes of the front door sent a scattering of green, blue and red over the walls and polished timber floorboards of the hallway, and the intensely citrus scent of the lemon myrtle flowers in the vase on the entrance table lingered, filling her senses to bursting. The elegant foliage and bright perky blossoms Shea had hand-picked from her garden called to her, and she bent her head to breathe them in deeper. Worthy of housing a tiny gumnut baby, the blooms were a reminder of just how magnificent Australian natives were. Long ago, Shea’s mum had taught her that not only did these beauties smell divine, they were antifungal and antibiotic too, and could be used in cooking as well. Bush tucker, and bush medicine, at its finest.
The grandfather clock chimed from the lounge room, reminding her that time was ticking. Tugging on her new boots she’d bought at the Western shop yesterday, she felt a shiver of excitement. It had been years since she’d slipped her feet into her very own pair of boots. It reminded her a little more of who she used to be, before she’d fallen in step in heels or ballerina flats, depending on the time of the day, along with almost all the women who called the city of London home. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she struck a pose, liking what she saw – a glimpse of the young woman she used to be.
