‘Stubborn bugger,’ he replied.
‘Can you go any higher, Henry?’ Ella said, because she would kick herself if she got back to the office and hadn’t asked the question.
‘I’ll think about it. Have to talk to some people.’ Henry rang off, leaving Ella looking at her phone screen in the bright sun, tilting it to make sure the connection was actually at an end.
‘Didn’t even say goodbye,’ she said to her screen.
‘They never do, love,’ cackled a voice from behind her at the same time as a little white dog on one of those extendable leads trotted past on Ella’s left.
‘Good morning,’ Ella greeted the owner of the cackle and the dog, an older lady with a thatch of copper-coloured hair and, judging by the lopsided way she walked, at least one dodgy knee.
‘Isn’t it just? It’s lovely. I’m Rene. Irene Loveday. We live on Lilac Hill Loop. You’re the new girl at Harvey’s office, aren’t you? Helen Nillson said you’re that swimmer lady selling houses now. We got your flier at Christmas.’
‘I’m Ella,’ Ella said, holding out her hand, not at all sure about being labelled swimmer lady. It looked like word was out; her cover was definitely blown. Hadn’t Harvey mentioned he wanted to talk with her about swimming too?
Maybe if she did one story for the local newspaper, one interview. Maybe one chat up at the school about training hard and setting goals would do. Then she’d be old news. She’d get everyone off her back and she could go back to being just Ella.
Irene swapped the dog lead to her opposite hand and the two women shook. The dog doubled back and Ella stepped over its leash, silently congratulating herself on not getting tripped.
‘So are you selling much? There’s a heck of a lot of For Sale signs around town. It’s the economy, they tell me. Or it’s the New Zealanders,’ Rene said.
‘The New Zealanders?’
‘Taking all the jobs.’ Rene nodded in a way that made her hair whip above her eyes.
Ella tried to think if she’d run into any New Zealanders in Chalk Hill, and couldn’t recall any.
‘I should get you around to look at my place,’ Rene said.
‘Are you thinking of selling?’ Ella asked.
She batted the question away with a snorted laugh. ‘God no, love. I wouldn’t sell. But it would be practice for you, you know? For when you get a real house to sell? I could ask the neighbours. They’d let you look in their houses too.’
‘Ok-ay,’ Ella said, listening to the tick, tick, tick of the lead device in Rene’s hand as the dog took off to investigate a patch of leaves at the base of one of the street trees. Between the ticking lead, the scratch of the dog’s paws, Rene’s heavy breath and the clack of Ella’s heels, they made quite the orchestra.
‘Phew. I might just stop here for a moment in the shade, love,’ Rene said, and she halted under the awning of the liquor store, right in front of an A-frame sign that offered a special on any Export slab.
‘Are you okay? It’s warm this morning. I’ve been told this might be the last of the hot weather.’ A girl was always safe talking about the weather in the country.
‘I’m fine, love. Just not as young as I used to be. Not as slim as I used to be either, just quietly. Doctor told me I had to lose some weight before they’d do my knee. One of those replacements jobs, you know? But I have to be five kilos lighter. That’ll kill me before I get the new knee, I reckon. Whoo, boy.’ Rene fanned her hand to cool her face.
A driver tried to pull in to the drive-thru and had to brake to avoid squashing the dog. Not that Rene seemed overly worried. She reeled the pooch back with her extenda-lead as if the white dog were a four-legged fish.
‘Sorry, Arthur,’ Rene waved at the man in the ute. He waved back and drove right on by and Ella could hear him greeting the drive-thru attendant and ordering a slab of Tooheys New. The attendant told him about the special on Export.
‘So. We could do it next week then?’ Rene said, resting her backside against the window, which had a thick ledge at the perfect height.
‘Sorry?’ Ella had visions of dog-walking with Rene.
‘The appraisal on my house. Me and the neighbours. There’s Sally Huxtable and Loraine McCormack. They’ll be in it for sure. Sally loves showing off since they got a pool, and you’d know all about pools. I told her that pools are known to be the greatest waste of money when it comes to value-adding to a home. It’s much better to add another bedroom. But she didn’t want to listen. They have grandkids, you know, and the grandkids love the pool. One thing Chalk Hill doesn’t have is a pool. Shame, I say. I’d use a pool. It would help me lose weight. All that exercise. We did have a pool once but it got shut down when a little toddler nearly drowned. Not me and Perry, I don’t mean. Chalk Hill town pool is what I’m talking about.’
Above Rene’s head a line of gold globes flashed around a two-bottles-for-one sign in the liquor store window. Ella didn’t think it was a good time to mention it was New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, but she did make a note-to-self to come back later.
She could hear the continuing conversation between the customer in the drive-thru and the attendant. They were talking sport and beer. Beer and sport. And something about Pickles’ dam in today’s paper. Ella frowned. Where had she heard Pickles’ dam mentioned before?
‘If next week doesn’t suit, we could do it this Thursday. Friday’s no good. Friday is bowls,’ Rene said, leaning
