Page 48 of Outback Secrets

‘Yeah, sorry.’ Since the non-event that was her own nuptials, she’d not been able to bring herself to attend anyone else’s, but she was going to have to get over that for Frankie and Logan’s. ‘Work’s pretty hectic certain times of the year. How’s Monty?’

‘Yeah, he’s great.’ Faith beamed—it seemed two kids under two hadn’t put a dampener on their romance at all. ‘He wasn’t able to get away from the farm yet, but he’ll be up in time for the Christmas Tree next weekend.’

‘Did your son stay with him?’

‘No. I’m not quite ready to leave my little man for more than a few hours. Clancy’s with my dad today—they were off to look at the sheep when I left, but I’m hoping he’ll have a nap soon and not get up to too much mischief.’

‘Who? Your dad or Clancy?’ Henri joked.

Faith laughed. ‘Maybe both?’

‘Can Henri hold Mabel?’ Fiona asked.

Faith looked puzzled as she gazed at all Henri was carrying. ‘If she wants to. I need to feed her soon, but maybe after that?’

Henri glared at her mother. Did she think that holding Faith’s newborn would make her clucky? That would be a miracle because she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. ‘How about I carry your bag instead and we get Mabel out of the sun?’

‘Thanks.’ Faith looked like a load had been lifted as Henri reached inside the car and retrieved a giant nappy bag, then hauled it over her shoulder without dropping even one flower on the ground.

The moment they stepped inside the hall, Faith was mobbed with hugs.

‘Where’s Clancy?’

‘Ooh, look at her hair!’

‘How was the drive up here?’

‘So wonderful that Ryan and Grant are going to give your two a little cousin soon.’

The poor baby almost got squashed in the stampede. You’d think Faith had returned from a mission to the moon, but Henri wasn’t complaining—it took the heat off her for a bit.

While her mother went into the kitchen to put the pavlova into the fridge, she exchanged hellos with a few people and unloaded the rest of what they’d brought onto the wooden trestle tables that were set up in rows across the hall.

‘Are these the same tables that were here when we used to come to town for Brownies?’ she asked Tilley, who was laying out tiny pots of glue.

Her sister nodded.

Henri recalled thinking they were on their last legs twenty years ago. ‘Why hasn’t the shire replaced them, or someone fundraised for new ones?’

Tilley shrugged. ‘Guess there’s always something else that takes precedence.’

Before Henri and Tilley could say anything else on the matter, there were more exclamations of excitement as four women, or rather one woman, two teenagers and another baby, entered the building. Henri looked up to see it was Simone McArthur—she couldn’t remember her new married name—and her daughter Harriet, who was holding Simone’s youngest, who had to be about two now. What on earth was she called? Lord knows her mum had probably told her a million times.

‘Ooh hasn’t Celeste grown,’ cooed Esther Burton, going over to pluck the little girl from her big sister’s arms. ‘Hello, my gorgeous little great niece.’

It was still weird to see Esther out and about. As long as Henri could remember she’d been agoraphobic, imprisoned on her farm in grief after the loss of her daughter, but all that had changed two Christmases ago and she’d been making amazing progress ever since.

‘So good to see you all,’ said someone else. Henri couldn’t see who as the women had swamped the new arrivals in much the same way they had Faith.

‘Couldn’t miss the annual wreath-making,’ Simone said, kissing and hugging all her old friends. ‘You can take the girl out of Bunyip Bay, but you can’t take Bunyip Bay out of the girl. Besides, I couldn’t wait till Christmas to see Faith.’

The two of them embraced then Simone snatched Mabel out of Faith’s arms. ‘Oh, my goodness, I could just eat her right up.’

Before long, the fuss over Bunyip Bay’s returned residents died down and everyone began crafting. There had to be fifty women, ranging in age from Mabel at only a couple of months to Dolce who was well into her nineties. As Henri watched the older woman’s hand shaking as she cut the stems off her flowers, she thought of the rocking chair Liam was making and smiled as she imagined her joy when she saw it.

It wasn’t just wreaths they were working on; some women were making earrings, others macrame gifts and a few painting pots for plants. The annual Christmas wreath-making session was basically just another excuse to get together, chat with the girls and celebrate the year that had been. The only requirement was that you brought a dish for afternoon tea and left the hall having created something.

Mostly Henri just listened and tried her best not to make a total disaster of her wreath, but inevitably the conversation eventually came around to her. Or more specifically her and Liam.