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‘Margaret Thornton’s been opposed to this project from the start,’ Alex said. ‘She filed complaints, tried to get the council to shut us down.’
‘Do you have evidence she did this?’ Davies asked.
‘No,’ Alex admitted. ‘But she’s been vocal about wanting this project stopped.’
‘Being opposed to a project isn’t evidence of vandalism,’ Davies said reasonably. ‘I’ll investigate, talk to people, and see if anyone saw anything. But without witnesses or physical evidence, it’s unlikely we’ll catch whoever did this.’
After Davies left, promising to file a report but offering little hope of resolution, the crew stood surveying the damage.
‘Well, he was helpful. Not,’ Amelia said.
‘How bad is it?’ Davo asked Jake.
Jake was silent, walking around the site, assessing. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully controlled. ‘Paint can be removed, but it’ll take time and effort. The broken windows are replaceable. The scaffolding can be reassembled. The stolen tools—’ He paused. ‘About three thousand dollars worth of equipment gone. That hurts the budget, but we can absorb it.’
‘So we keep going?’ Bec asked.
‘We keep going,’ Jake confirmed. ‘Whoever did this wants us to give up. We don’t quit.’
They spent the morning cleaning—scraping paint, sweeping glass, reassembling scaffolding. It was demoralising work, undoing damage instead of making progress. The festive atmosphere from the weekend was gone, replaced by grim determination.
Ryan arrived from the hardware store, his trailer loaded with replacement windows and cleaning supplies. ‘Jill told me what happened. These are on the house. They’ve been out the back for ages. A cancelled order.’
Then Sassy turned up with lunch for the entire crew. ‘No one vandalises this town on my watch. Jill and Sophie said they’ll be here straight after work.’
Tom appeared with his mates from Emerald—three retired builders, all carrying toolboxes. ‘Heard you needed help. Put us to work.’
Ratty brought industrial paint remover. ‘Had this in storage in my shed at my claim. Should help with the mess.’
Lisa and Danny came straight from work. ‘We’ve got two hours before our shifts. Where do you need us?’
Brian arrived with cleaning equipment and bucketloads of determination. ‘This is our town. Our project. No one sabotages it without the whole community responding.’
By early afternoon, forty people were working on the site. The vandalism that had seemed devastating that morning was being systematically erased by a determined collective effort.
Harriet and Hazel appeared mid-afternoon, both looking furious.
‘This is disgraceful,’ Harriet announced to anyone within earshot. ‘Absolutely disgraceful. Garnet Creek doesn’t do this.’
She rolled up her sleeves—literally—and started scraping paint alongside Bec.
‘Never thought I’d see the day,’ Bec muttered to Amelia. ‘Harriet actually helping.’
‘People change,’ Amelia said, watching the older woman work with fierce concentration.
By two p.m. the paint was mostly removed, windows replaced, and scaffolding reassembled. By four p.m. you could barely see the vandalism.
Jake stood in the centre of the site, looking around at the community that had rallied. His expression was unreadable.
‘Thank you,’ he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. ‘All of you. This—you didn’t have to do this.’
‘Yes, we did,’ Brian said firmly. ‘This project matters. Not just to you, to all of us. You’re saving our history, our heritage. Anyone who attacks you and your dad attacks all of us.’
‘I’m pleased that Dad’s been in Gympie for the week,’ Jake said. ‘This would have broken him.’
As the volunteers departed, promising to return if needed, he pulled Amelia aside.
‘I almost quit this morning,’ he admitted quietly. ‘Saw the damage and thought—maybe they’re right. Maybe this is a foolish dream that’s going to fail anyway.’
