Chapter 45

CHAPTER

45

Vicki skipped ahead of Matt and Bree as they walked to the knitting shop. Sally followed behind her, carrying a cake tin and with a tote bag hung over one shoulder, knitting needles protruding from the opening.

‘Come on, Granny, we’ll be late.’

‘It’s fine,’ Bree called. ‘They won’t start without me, you know.’

Beside her, Matt laughed. It seemed to Bree that he did a lot more of that these days. His fingers were entwined with hers and that felt good.

Sally had arrived a short time ago. This was her second visit since that terrible day. She’d been seeing a therapist and while these visits were technically supervised by Matt, Bree had watched him relax. His fear for his daughter’s safety was fading as Sally worked her way through her grief back to her place in their family. A place Matt was very pleased for her to have.

Bree too had found her place. She and Matt no longer tried to play down or hide their relationship, from Sally or Vicki or anyone else.

They reached the shop and went inside. Vicki dragged Sally over to talk to Rose and was soon happily seated between them, pulling her knitting from her bag.

‘I’d better get back,’ Matt said. ‘Those clients will be here soon.’

‘Hi, you two. Started planning the wedding yet?’

‘Now, Kelly, don’t get too carried away,’ Bree said. That was one secret she and Matt were keeping for now.

Matt smiled at her, that wonderful smile that said so much about their future together, then left. A few seconds later, there was a gust of hot, dry air from the door as Deb joined them. Val was close behind.

‘We could use some rain,’ she offered as she added a cake to the selection of food.

There was general agreement as a couple more knitters arrived and began taking cups of tea to seats around the big wooden table, which was now covered with knitting yarn and projects of all colours and styles and stages of completion. Christmas was only a few weeks away and it looked like there would be a lot of knitted gifts under the trees in Wagtail Ridge.

As the knitters were settling in, the door from the cottage opened and Mike walked through. Rose smiled happily as he came up to her and kissed her with great enthusiasm, ignoring the oohs and aahs around the table.

As the kiss ended, Mike winked at Rose. ‘I’m off now. I’ll be back in a couple of days.’

‘Okay. You be good now,’ Rose teased. ‘No flirting with the squatter’s daughter.’

‘Ah, Rose. I’ll be counting the hours until I’m back.’

This time Rose kissed him before he left. The knitting club ladies had no matchmaking to do there.

Vicki proudly handed a small knitted bundle to Sally. ‘This one is for you, Granny.’

Sally’s face glowed as she held up a scarf that was a similar mess of dropped stitches and unequal tension to Vicki’s first effort. ‘It’s beautiful, darling girl. I shall wear it with pride.’

Vicki would never be a natural knitter, but if she was enjoying herself, that’s all that mattered.

Bree took her place at the table and the conversation soon turned to patterns and stitches. Bree’s lovely alpaca yarn, grown right here in the Ridge, was being knitted by several of the club.

About half an hour had passed, and more tea was being made, when the shop door opened and Anna Prentiss walked in.

‘Bree, I thought you might be here. I brought your copy.’ She handed over a rolled-up magazine.

‘Thank you. Look, everyone.’

Bree unrolled the glossy magazine on the table, opened it to show a two-page feature on her alpaca twins. It included a lovely picture of Vicki sitting on the ground while the crias sniffed her hair and another of Bree and Anna with Sky.

‘That’s me! And Lilly and Sophie,’ Vicki cried.

The photo had been taken when the crias were about ten days old and Anna was certain they would survive. They had thrived and were a lot bigger now.

Everyone had something to say about the article. Or a question for Anna.

‘I bet you’re busy now as you’re the famous vet who delivered the miracle twins,’ Deb said.

Val took a close look at the photo. ‘You do look very pretty in the photo, Anna.’

A couple of the knitters winced at Val’s comment. Not that she was wrong, but Bree had learned that Anna didn’t ever talk about her appearance. Not since the scar.

The vet lifted her hand to her face and gently stroked the left side. ‘Enjoy your afternoon, everyone.’

‘Are you sure you won’t join us?’ Deb asked. ‘There’s cake.’

Anna shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I have patients to see.’ She nodded to the knitting club and left.

As the door shut behind Anna, Bree saw several long and meaningful looks pass between the ladies of the knitting club. Raised eyebrows were evident, but not a word was spoken as an agreement was reached. Well, the knitting club matchmakers had done all right by her. Maybe Anna would be equally lucky.

Around the table the sound of clicking needles resumed.