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I went to reception and paid my bill. What was the good doctor’s first name? I picked up the practice pamphlet. Doctor Autumn Blake. What a beautiful name. I loved autumn, or fall, as my American friends called it. It was my favorite time of year, especially here in the Blue Mountains. The eucalypt trees stayed green, but there were lots of deciduous trees that gave the landscape a brown and gold hue mixed in with the different shades of green. Perhaps that was why I loved my job so much—I had a passion for trees, whether growing in the ground or being carved into something new through my carpentry.
As I walked to my pickup, my mind went back to the lovely doctor. I probably wouldn’t stand a chance with someone like her, but I could dream. I was rough and ready, swore, drank too much, and she was now aware I messed around. At least it would mean I knew what I was doing. I had definitely had enough practice.
There was something about her though. Alluring—that was the word. Hell, I didn’t know where it came from but that was her. The woman definitely had a sense of mystery about her. She looked like she could be in some fancy medical practice in Sydney with her posh clothes. How come she was out in the country? I could only hope she needed something to be fixed. I would offer to be her handyman anytime and let her see how good I was with my hands.
Three hours later, I could not get those dark brown eyes out of my mind. I imagined pulling the pins out of that neat little bun and letting her hair fall around her shoulders. That British accent was such a turn-on. It would be much better for me if Doctor Wilson came back or I might be making an indecent proposition to my temporary doctor. That was enough daydreaming for now because I needed to get back to work if I wanted to earn any money today.
I had a job to do, fixing up a handrail for Mrs. Jenkins. She lived across the street from the two cottages I had bought. The steps down to her beloved rose garden at the front were getting a bit wobbly and she was not as steady on her feet these days. Her name was Dorothy, and she would supply me with biscuits and tea while I worked. As usual, I would not charge her full price, which was mad as her house was probably worth a million dollars. My supervisor and dog, Bluey, sat and watched me work with an occasional bark of encouragement. He also liked all the nibbles Dorothy gave him.
Once I finished the handrail, I would spend the afternoon working on my place. It had been a great investment to buy the two rundown miners’ cottages next to each other. They had whitewashed, thick walls and low red-tiled roofs. And beautiful solid oak front doors with small stained-glass windows and old iron knockers. I had even put a white picket fence out the front of one with lavender and rose bushes. Dorothy had helped, of course. The cottages always brought a smile to my face when I pulled up.
One was finished, and the real estate agent said he had someone coming this afternoon who might rent it. I had spent a lot of money, time, and energy on it, so I was keen to get some cash back to put it into my place. I was currently living in a mess with building materials all over. If I didn’t get next door rented soon, I would be moving back in there just for the comfort.
I looked at my phone and saw It was getting on for four and would call it a day. I had a busy week ahead and would take the opportunity to finish early. My work at Dorothy’s was done when a car pulled up across the road. The vehicle had the real estate logo on the side. Dereck got out and waved as he walked across to me.
“Glad to catch up with you, Ryan. I’ve someone keen to rent the cottage. They’re looking for six months to possibly a year rental, which would be perfect.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Give me a call later and let me know how you go.”
I grabbed my tools and headed back to my cottage. I got Bluey his food, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and went out into the rear garden to sit. Both cottages backed onto a paddock and the bush beyond. It could be a bit scary in a bushfire, but I was pretty sure I had enough of a firebreak. I even had a friend come around from the local country fire service, and he said it was all good. If a fire got really bad, I would get out early. You could replace houses but not people.
I sat on the bench I had made a while ago and listened to a kookaburra. Life was good and I could not complain. I ran my fingers over the grain in the wood. I just hoped my results came back clear.
Voices drifted over from the garden next door. One I recognized as Dereck, and the other sounded British and female. I could not keep the grin off my face. Surely the prim doctor was not moving into my cottage? I walked across and had a quick peak over the fence. Sure enough. It was her. If she was, I might ask if she would pay me an after-hours visit. Then again, my place was a tip, and she would probably tell me to take a hike.
I stared out at the paddock as I took another gulp of beer. A kangaroo and her joey were hopping past the end of the gardens. The mother stopped and looked up as if to check out who was there, and then bounded off with her baby following behind. It was about that time of the day that you would see the kangaroos gather.
“Oh, my god. That’s it. I have to rent this place. Trust me, it’s just what I need. I can sit here with a cup of tea and watch the local wildlife go by,” the good doctor said.
A kookaburra cackled away again, flew over, and landed in the gum tree in the next-door garden. It was as if I had ordered and trained the local wildlife to gain me a tenant. It would not have worked with an Aussie though. They would have been aware there were plenty of animals around if you went looking. Some of them not as cute as a koala. The bird reminded me I needed to get some chicken wire to go on the pond in the backyard next door before I put fish in it again. The bloody kookaburra had eaten all the last ones before I had a chance to cover it over.
The back door shut, and I finished my beer. As I wandered inside to shower, my cell phone pinged. It was my mate, Drew. There was a bunch of us meeting at the local pub at seven. I didn’t need an excuse for a drink but would celebrate my possibly good test results. The place was only a five-minute walk away so I would not have to worry about being pulled over by the cops for drunk driving.
When I came out of the shower, there was another message. This time it was from Dereck.
Dereck: You have a new tenant who has signed a contract for six months with the possibility of extending to a year. She should be moving in tomorrow afternoon. Let me know what time I can pop by to get you to sign the contract. Obviously, from now on you will need to arrange any visits for repairs to the property through me.
This was great. With the extra money coming in I could get my place finished. Damn. The back-door lock on next door’s cottage was broken. I couldn’t rent it like that. If someone broke in, I would never forgive myself.
I had bought the darn lock weeks ago and kept meaning to do it but had forgotten. I would pop in tomorrow morning and replace the old one before she moved in.
Yep. A new tenant, a new lock, and most likely a clean bill of sexual health.
What could possibly go wrong?
THREE
Autumn
I adored the cottage from the first moment I saw it and did not want to spend another night in the motel. The motel owner had found out I was a doctor, and I could see a long list of ailments that were looming. I wanted to help but needed to relax when I finished work at the end of a day.
In the long run, it would save me money to move. The place was vacant, and I had a key, so I might as well take advantage of the fact. The real estate agent had not specifically said no, he hadn’t said yes either to moving in early. I would deal with the problem if it came up.
I had teared up when I arrived at the cottage. It was silly and sentimental, but I thought it was calling to me. Coming to the other side of the world had made me go daft. It had a picket fence and a beautiful garden full of what I assumed were Australian native plants mixed with roses and lavender. One of the plants had little white flowers on it and smelled like honey as I brushed past. I wasn’t much of a gardener but could appreciate the time and effort that had gone into the place.
It had whitewashed walls, and some of the roses were trailing around the window. It could be on an advert for the Blue Mountains it was so quaint. I hoped it had heating and cooling because I had been told the area experienced extreme seasons. The thick walls would help though.
Inside the furniture was modern and functional. The kitchen looked as if it had been made by a craftsman and with love, and I admired the granite worktop. I was not much of a cook but could appreciate a great workspace when I saw one.
