Chapter 19

CHAPTER

19

The shearers arrived on Monday. By lunchtime, Rose was preparing her second run from the kitchen to the stables with food for Bree, Maggie and the shearing team. She’d spent yesterday baking Anzac biscuits and a cake. Matt and Vicki had tested them for her after their walk, declaring them very good indeed, a feeling echoed by the shearers as they devoured them all during morning smoko. Her more recent kitchen efforts had been directed at the sandwiches, sausage rolls and chicken legs that she was about to serve for lunch. After she’d cleaned this lot up, she’d throw some more biscuits and pastries in the oven for afternoon smoko. It was hard work—and she was loving it.

When Bree had asked her if she would come up for a couple of days to help out during the shearing, she’d said yes without hesitation. She wanted to help Bree, of course, and she was interested in her project. But more than that, Rose was, quite simply, lonely. She didn’t want to intrude on Bree, but her visits to Wagtail Ridge were the thing she most looked forward to now. The ladies of the knitting club were fast replacing the old friends she never saw any more.

Maybe it was time to think about taking the same leap of faith that Bree had and find a new place for herself, and a new life. Before it was too late.

The box of food wasn’t heavy, but as she approached the stables, a man appeared at her side.

‘Here. Let me carry that for you.’

Rose cast him a quick sideways glance and managed to keep her eyebrows under control. ‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’

‘You are very welcome. I want to thank you for taking such good care of me and my crew.’

He was a man of about her own age, maybe a year or two younger. She’d noticed him moving about the shearing group earlier, but in all the hustle of setting up for the day’s work, she hadn’t taken a good look. And he was certainly worth a good look. A very good look. He was sexy! Was it all right to find a man sexy at her age? Definitely. Besides, there was no other word to describe him. He was tall, but not too tall. Well muscled, but not overly so. His dark hair was lightly sprinkled with grey, as was the stubble on his chin. Rose had never really liked designer stubble as a look, but this was different. On this man, the stubble was not so much an affectation, as affecting. Affecting her, at least.

Feeling more than a little flustered, Rose followed him into a corner of the shed, where he set the load down on a table. It was still cool outside, but the shearers were working up a sweat, and most had stripped to just T-shirts and jeans. That was always a good look on a fit and healthy man, even if he was no longer exactly young.

The man was looking at her as if expecting something … Oh, yes. A reply.

‘It’s a pleasure,’ she managed.

‘I’m Mike, by the way. Mike Stowe. I have the great misfortune to lead this gang of reprobates.’ He held out his hand, looked at it dubiously then wiped it on his jeans.

‘I’m Rose.’ She took the newly cleaned hand, conscious of its strength and the roughness caused by years of hard work.

‘Bree said you were her grandmother. You don’t look old enough for that.’

Rose felt the colour rising to her cheeks. She should tell him to stop. But she didn’t. She liked it.

‘Grub’s up,’ Mike called to the rest of the team.

The shearing crew was four men and one woman who described herself as ‘the alpaca whisperer’. They’d arrived early this morning and Bree and Maggie had been working with them ever since to get the whole herd done in a day. The work had progressed smoothly, or so it seemed to Rose. Maggie had been learning quickly since Bree had hired her and today was guiding the animals one by one into the shed as if she’d been doing it for years. The animal was lifted gently by two men and laid on its side, its feet trussed. While the ‘whisperer’ held the animal’s head down, one person wielded frighteningly sharp-looking electric clippers, while the third gently pulled the fleece away, placing it in bags according to its quality. The best fleece, Rose had learned, came from the creature’s body. The neck and legs gave a lesser fibre. It all looked pretty undignified from the alpaca’s point of view, but once they were back on their feet, they seemed none the worse for the experience, and settled back into their favourite pastime, eating.

Eating was on human minds too. After serving everyone, Rose took a sandwich for herself and settled on a bale of hay to eat.

‘Do you mind if I join you?’

Mind? ‘Of course not.’

Mike settled himself next to her with a paper plate piled high with the product of her labours. Rose nibbled the edges of her sandwich like some schoolgirl who’d suddenly found herself sharing a bench with the captain of the football team.

‘Good tucker. Thanks.’

‘My pleasure.’ She winced. She had to do better than that. ‘So, how long have you been shearing alpacas?’

‘All my life. Well, not only alpacas. My dad was a shearer and I joined his crew as soon as I was old enough to hold a set of shears. Back then it was just sheep and we travelled all over. Right up to the territory. Down to Victoria. One year we even went across to WA.’

‘That must have been an exciting life.’

‘For a young, single man, it sure was. Didn’t work so well after I got married.’

Ah. There it was. She shouldn’t be surprised. Why had she expected a man like him would be single? ‘I guess not.’

‘My wife put up with it until the kids were grown, then she headed for the city lights. I stayed with this. It’s the only life I know, and besides, I still enjoy it.’

Mike left her for a minute and returned with two bottles of water from the esky. He held one out to Rose.

‘Thanks.’ She unscrewed the lid and took a deep drink. Mike did the same.

‘What about you?’ he asked.

‘I’ve been a city girl all my life. I met my late husband when I was nineteen at a concert. We married four months later and didn’t spend a day apart until he died. That was nearly ten years ago now.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘We had a good life. I do miss him, though. We had this lovely apartment in Sydney, but …’

‘Have you ever thought of moving? Maybe coming up this way? It’s a great part of the world.’

She hadn’t framed it quite that way, but that was so close to her thoughts, she didn’t know how to respond.

‘Anyway, back to work. Nice chatting to you, Rose.’

‘You too, Mike.’

***

At the end of the day, Bree waved the shearers off with relief. The alpacas had all been done and were now grazing happily in their paddocks, looking a bit patchy and a lot less hairy than before. Bags of fleece had been stacked safely in the shed, ready to go to the spinners. A couple of specific fleeces had been ordered by customers who hand spun the yarn. Those were the premium fleeces that brought the most money. Bree was tired, but in a good way. This was a major milestone in her new life and it had gone well.

Maggie emerged from the shed. ‘The feeding is all done.’

‘Good. It’s been a long day. You head on home. I’ll tidy up.’ There was still a bit to do and the shed and holding pen needed to be hosed out.

‘Are you sure, Bree? I can do it. I don’t mind.’

‘No. You go.’

‘You look pretty beat, too. I could do the morning feeds on my own, if you want to sleep in tomorrow,’ Maggie offered.

‘Thanks. I should be up, but if I’m not, you get started without me.’ She would be up. She always was. But a bit of a lie-in was a tempting thought.

‘See you tomorrow.’ Maggie set out towards her old Holden, parked in the shadow of the shed.

Bree took a deep breath and picked up the hose. If she got stuck in now, this wouldn’t take long.

By the time order had been restored, she was starving. Nan had promised to take care of feeding them both, but as she entered the house, the smells of cooking she’d been hoping for were noticeably absent. Instead, she found her grandmother sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through something on her phone.

‘All done?’ Nan asked.

‘Yep. A good day’s work, but I’m far too tired to cook dinner. I thought you were going to organise it.’

‘I am. I’ve done enough cooking for one day so I’m organising us a pub dinner. Today was a big day for you. We should celebrate. Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll drive us in so you can have a well-earned drink. And a night out will do us both good. It’s my shout.’

‘Nan, I’m not sure—’

‘I am. You deserve a night off. When did you last spend some time looking after yourself, rather than the alpacas?’

She had a point. Bree wondered if the alpaca walk with Matt counted as doing something for herself. She hadn’t told Rose about that, but suspected her grandmother would definitely think it time well spent.

After a long hot shower, it felt good to throw on a skirt and let her hair down. She even added a rare touch of makeup. Not for any reason, except to make herself feel good.

The pub was busy and buzzing when they arrived. Several members of the knitting club were there and waved at Bree and Rose as they walked in. Bree cast her eyes around.

‘Matt’s not here,’ Deb said as she walked past carrying a tray of glasses.

‘I wasn’t—’

Deb was gone before Bree could finish the sentence.

Nan led the way to a free table, stopping as she did to talk to a couple of women from the knitting club.

‘It’s a shame you weren’t here earlier,’ Kelly from the shop said. ‘Those shearers dropped in for a beer. Those are some pretty good-looking men.’

Bree was startled to see her grandmother blush.

‘I’m too old to notice that sort of thing.’

‘Rose Fuller, you are no such thing,’ Kelly insisted with a laugh. ‘You’d have to be dead not to notice that good-looking head shearer.’

‘His name’s Mike,’ Bree chimed in, watching her nan’s face carefully. There it was, that moment of unguarded emotion. And she wasn’t the only one who noticed it.

‘Well, I saw Mike reading that sign by the bar. The one about the town dance,’ Kelly said. ‘You’d best make sure you’re here for it, Rose, or I’m likely to jump in ahead of you.’

‘You go right ahead, if you think you can handle him.’ Rose winked and moved on, leaving Kelly chuckling over her dinner.

‘Why don’t you come up for the dance?’ Bree said as they settled at their table.

‘Don’t you start,’ Nan warned.

‘You’re a bit touchy on the subject. And don’t forget I saw you and Mike chatting over lunch.’

‘He was just being polite. I’m far too old for that sort of thing.’

‘You are not. Seriously, Nan. You’ve been alone for a long time. And Mike is a nice guy. Not to mention pretty hot.’

‘And what about you and Matt? Also a nice guy. And not what I’d call unattractive.’

Bree shook her head. ‘It’s a nice idea, but he’s still grieving for Kim. And there are some complicated issues there with Vicki’s grandparents.’

‘And you know about these issues how?’ Nan fixed her with a stare, and raised eyebrows.

Bree chuckled. ‘Okay. We’re as bad as each other. But seriously, why don’t you come up for the dance? You’ll enjoy it.’

‘I’m spending so much time up here I’d move up permanently, but you’d get sick of me.’

‘Never, Nan, never. Now, this is supposed to be a celebration—how about we order some bubbles?’