“I think we can change it.”
At last Rosie looked up. Those were tears and Charlotte’s own eyes got prickly and she blinked a few times.
“Charlotte, if anyone can change things it will be you. When Trev came to visit and you went off and sold Glenys those books, I had a feeling.”
Before they both turned into puddles on the floor, Charlotte needed to find some balance. “Yep, Glenys will do that. And if you really want feelings, Octavia and Marguerite bring their own special brand.”
“I know what you’re doing.” Rosie reached for her bottle of water. “I’ll stop being all mushy now. What do you make of Glenys’s visit?”
Relieved, Charlotte went back to tidying shelves, talking over her shoulder. “She likes to gossip?”
Rosie chortled. “Apart from that. Because she’s always been a chatterbox, but never been nasty, and I thought her comments today were bordering on insulting about the Forest family.”
Charlotte stopped what she was doing and wandered back to Rosie. “Obviously I know almost nothing about them, or her, or this town yet, but anytime a patient would tell me someone had brought it on themselves, I knew there was fear behind it.”
“Interesting. So, Glenys starting off by wishing that the Christmas Tree Farm was in better state, and then that she was sad for little Lachie having to work at such a young age—”
“Having to! Ha, he’s building an empire.”
“He’s a smart little boy. But what started off sounding like she cared changed when she said it really was their own fault. Did you notice her tone of voice even sounded nasty?”
“Or triumphant. Almost as though their misery takes away her fear. But what could she be afraid of from them?” Charlotte pondered. “You mentioned a bad history between the Forest and Morris families but how does Glenys fit into it?”
“They’ve been neighbours for a while. Glenys and her poor husband—God rest his poor soul—moved in up the road from the farm a few years back. But both properties are large, so they’d not even see each other under normal circumstances. I couldn’t imagine what would make her like this.”
Charlotte returned to the shelves, mentally adding Glenys to her list of Christmas tree thief suspects. Except her name wasn’t Darro and she wasn’t male.
Just on closing time, the blare of sirens filled the shop. Rosie and Charlotte hurried to the window as Sid’s patrol car hurtled past, lights flashing, in the direction of the reserve.
“That can’t be good.” Rosie said. “I hope nobody fell down the steps to the falls again.”
“Again?”
“There’s been a few instances where people slipped and fell. The path is fine, but those steps haven’t been maintained in years. I can never go further than the lookout because the ramp that runs alongside the steps has deteriorated so badly.”
“Do you go to the lookout often?”
“A few times a year. It is such a restful spot. You should go there. It is nice in the early evening when all the birds are out and sometimes, if you are very lucky, a Kingfisher appears.”
“A real one?”
Rosie smiled. “Yes. A real Azure Kingfisher, also known as Alcedo azurea. They’re endangered in the region, even here in the town named after the species.”
“Well, I shall have to spend some more time visiting the falls and watching quietly.”
“More time?”
“I haven’t been all the way down.” Her stomach tensed.
Stop giving things away.
“Well, you should. Take a camera and a blanket to sit on.”
“Sounds good.” Charlotte busied herself in the window, replenishing some books they’d sold out of before the latest delivery had arrived. The friendliness and genuine warmth that was Rosie made her do and say things she didn’t plan on. Too much sharing was the best way to damage a relationship.
“Oh! Do you hear that, Charlie? Sounds like a car chase.” Rosie left the window to push herself outside and Charlotte sprinted after her.
“Rosie! Stay back from the kerb!” The roar of a car engine grew louder, and gears crashed. A siren was behind it. Charlotte stepped between Rosie and the road. “Seriously, what if it crashes!”
With a quick manoeuvre, Rosie backed into the doorway and Charlotte joined her, just as a dark blue ute careened around the closest corner, almost hitting another car as it skidded onto the main road. It righted itself and tore past.
Charlotte tried to see the driver but could only glimpse a male wearing a peaked cap. The tint was so dark it was impossible to identify anyone inside. Bouncing around the tray was a Christmas tree.
The police car was next, taking the corner only slightly less dangerously and pursuing the ute. Sid had a cigarette hanging from his lips.
Rosie and Charlotte raced to the kerb to peer down the street. Pedestrians stopped, and other shopkeepers ran out.
The ute barrelled through the roundabout, wheels up on the inside kerb and dirt spraying everywhere. Sid screeched to a stop as a car came through and shook his fist at the driver. By the time he got going again, the ute was out of sight, at least from the bookshop.
“My, oh my!” Rosie’s hands waved around. “In our little town! Someone could have been killed with those two driving like maniacs!”
Charlotte had no words. Something didn’t add up and she couldn’t pinpoint it yet. There’d been no plates on the ute, and she’d had time to look, it was the same vehicle she’d seen twice before. No, three times before. It looked exactly like the one that chipped her windscreen.
Sid had said he didn’t see anything, despite the new chip in the glass and the cloud of dust settling on them from the speed of the ute only seconds
