Page 20 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

A DARK NIGHT

A storm was predicted on Sunday evening.

After Tash had gone to bed, Oliver opened a bottle of the local Montepulciano wine.

A nostalgic choice, it reminded him of the Abruzzo region in Italy, where he had spent some time.

Finding a bottle in the bottle shop was a welcome surprise.

It also offered a pleasant change from the cleanskin wine that he had been drinking.

A dark and earthy variety, the first sip of Montepulciano didn’t disappoint.

The new outdoor furniture on the front veranda beckoned.

Not skimping on quality, Oliver had selected large, comfortable pieces that suited his stature.

Its solid teak frame, wicker inserts, and padded cushions made it the ideal spot to put his feet up.

A light rain had begun to fall, and in the distance, thunder hinted that more was coming.

Oliver loved the anticipation of a storm, especially at night.

The low hum of electricity in the air, the scent of rain on the soil.

The notion that he was safe and protected from the elements.

Tash, secure in her room, where nothing could happen to her .

Next door, Mick and Helen’s place was dark – perhaps they were out for a romantic dinner. But Carol and Linda (five doors down) were here for the weekend. A dull glow emanated from the other houses in the street.

Above, the sky had clouded over. The trees and houses surrounding him shifted to shades of grey and inky, midnight colours. The gentle rhythmic drumming of rain on the roof was a comforting counterpoint to the wind, which had picked up.

After a light rain, the roads would be slippery, but a good downpour would clean the tarmac, leaving the road base sharp and pristine, great for riding.

He hoped the old house didn’t spring a leak.

He once owned a car that leaked in heavy rain.

But only if the windscreen faced into the wind.

If he parked it in the opposite direction, it was fine.

The wine was working. His body reclined further into the chair.

A metallic drip. Probably the gutter. As he turned, a small brown frog jumped from the downpipe onto the veranda rail. Frozen in fear, it caught his eye. After offering a smile, Oliver turned away. It was good to know he wasn’t alone on the veranda.

Against the chill of the evening, a quiet hum of accomplishment settled over him.

The bike repairs were progressing. He had stripped the Black Shadow, washed, bagged, and labelled every piece.

His repair and spare parts list totalled eighty-eight items. Some parts he could salvage from specialist garages, but many would come from the UK.

He hadn’t yet budgeted for the expenses.

In the coming days, he would add these to his financial spreadsheet.

Soon, he heard the BMW approaching town.

He recalled Leo mentioning a Sit Mia must be returning from the gathering.

Her safe arrival home before the full force of the storm pleased him.

Oliver knew the route she would take. A right turn onto the main street.

Across the bridge, and then a sharp left.

Second gear, up the hill to the old convent.

As the sound of a clunky gear change reached him, he knew Mia had slowed to cross the bridge. In the distance, his eyes followed the single headlight as it wound its way up the steep rise on the far side of the river. He hoped she was warm enough.

About halfway up, the light disappeared. Concerned, he squinted into the darkness, but there was no sign of the light.

Odd, he thought, with a pang of concern. Perhaps it wasn’t her. But who else would it be? His attention shifted to her loosely fitting helmet. Her lack of stability and inexperience. It was a moonless evening, and the roads were wet. Gazing up at the night sky, it struck him as unusually dark.

‘Fuck!’ Now he was worried. Should he get in the car, drive up the hill and make sure she was safe and not lying in a ditch on the side of the road with two broken legs and a fractured pelvis? No, no, that would be absurd.

He thought about Snood. There was a sharp left turn halfway up the hill. What if she flipped the bike, trapping the dog underneath? It could happen. Too easily.

He watched and waited. The light didn’t return.

He put down his wine. Ran his hands through his hair.

Took a deep breath to calm himself. Recited the list of parts he needed to order for the Black Shadow.

Nothing worked. His niggling sense that something was wrong switched to acute alarm.

He was worried about her, and now he was obsessing about being worried.

What if he called Blanche? She could call Mia. Then, to put his mind at ease, someone could call him back. It was a ridiculous plan, but Mia rode a motorbike, and she lived alone.

He had another idea – he could contact her through social media.

Then he remembered Mia had called him. About a month ago, while she was collecting Tash from school, she had called him twice.

He hadn’t answered because he was on a plane to Perth.

Oliver headed inside and found his phone in the kitchen.

After a quick scroll through his history, he pressed the redial option on the anonymous number.

She answered. ‘ Oliver ?’

‘Hey, yes, I wanted to make sure you got home safe.’

A pause. ‘You were worried about me?’

‘It’s dark!’ he exclaimed and then immediately regretted his words. ‘I saw a light on the hill, and then it vanished. I was worried.’

She stifled a laugh. ‘Are you spying on me?’

‘Of course not. There was this light – it was there one minute and gone the next…anyway…how was the Sit & Knit…thing?’

‘It was okay. But Leo told me that when I talk to men, I should speak slowly, use short sentences, and maintain eye contact.’ She giggled.

Oliver laughed. ‘That’s hilarious.’

‘I know. I’m also supposed to ask lots of questions.’ She couldn’t stop laughing.

He smiled. Wanting to keep her on the phone, he asked her what she was doing.

‘Right now, I’m eating leftover pasta. After that, I’ll probably work on a pattern. Pete the Pig is next in line – he needs some attention.’

‘Have you always been a knitter? I have this vision of you at five, knitting.’ He picked up his wine and once again settled on the lounge.

‘I started in high school. It was a godsend. It kept me focused and, in the moment, if you know what I mean. I used to get very anxious, and having something to do with my hands settled my nerves.’

He wanted to ask why she was anxious, but decided it might be too personal, or worse, too painful. Instead, he asked, ‘Where did you grow up?’

‘North Sydney. I went to boarding school in Lavender Bay.’

He hesitated. Why would she go to boarding school if her family lived in North Sydney?

It was a fashionable suburb. Wide, tree-lined streets with impressive new homes dotted amongst older sandstone buildings.

One of the wealthiest suburbs in the city.

Lavender Bay was equally impressive, but they were in the same locality.

‘Aren’t they right next to each other?’ he asked.

‘Yes. I was the surprise baby no one expected. You see, my parents have this…this great love for each other. It’s special…their relationship. They don’t need anyone else.’

Her voice had risen. He thought he should probably change the subject. ‘Your store, how did that start?’

She told him the story. It began as a hobby and an Etsy account.

Soon she was selling crocheted cactus plants to people living in Texas.

Shipping knitted cuckoo clocks to Germany.

Stuffing club-inspired soccer balls into post packs and sending them to the UK.

Loch Ness monsters were posted to Scotland.

Last Christmas, she had shipped five hundred boxes of knitted decorations around the globe.

‘You turned a hobby into a business.’

‘An unsuccessful business. When I did the sums, I realised that hand-knitting my way to a reliable car, food on the table, and snacks for Snood was going to take me about thirty-five hours a day, eight days a week. It was not possible.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Hashtag-knit. And hashtag-yarn, hashtag-handmade, and about a dozen other hashtags. A few viral videos on social media were a stroke of luck. I created an online brand for beginners. I started with simple how-to-knit products, made patterns and offered them for free. I created cute collections of animals, iconic buildings, and dogs. The rest, as they say, is a craft store at the end of town.’

‘That’s so impressive.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Why did you choose Eagle Nest? Of all the country towns in New South Wales, why this one?’

‘Initially, it was because of my friend, Holly. Her husband’s family owns a winery nearby.

She brought me out here and I fell in love with the area.

A few years earlier, Leo had moved in with Blanche.

They offered me their spare bedroom.’ She hesitated.

‘I like to think the universe had something to do with it. Do you know that feeling? When there’s no resistance to the path ahead? ’

‘I do.’

‘It felt right coming here.’ She yawned.

‘You know what I was thinking about today? How disappointed with life Elsie must have been. I didn’t realise she had regrets, but it makes sense.

From what I can tell, everyone in town thought she was just a grumpy old woman.

Do you think all old people have regrets? ’

‘Hard to say, but my guess is no. Most people make peace with life and death.’

‘Oliver?’ Her voice was as soft as cloth.

‘Yes, Mia.’ He loved saying her name .

‘Do you think the truth is more highly prized by women?’

‘No, I don’t.’

She sighed. This was followed by another yawn.

‘Sorry, I’m keeping you up. You probably have work tomorrow.’

‘Monday is my day off.’

He hesitated. ‘Have lunch with me?’ It was worth a shot. She might say no, but it felt like they were getting closer.

‘What?’

‘Lunch. Dinner is tricky with Tash.’

A long pause. ‘Lunch tomorrow,’ she whispered. ‘Okay, why don’t you come to my place? Gossip spreads faster than a cool breeze around here. I could cook. I like to cook.’

‘I’ll bring wine.’

They ended the call.