Reluctant Warrior

By G. V. Robinette

Laura evolves from a timid person into a proactive woman as she works with a community group to help deal with the consequences of domestic violence. She stands up to bullies—women as well as men—as they work to make life more livable. As Laura does so, she comes increasing in contact with spiritual energies, which culminates in rescuing a woman giving birth under piles of rubble, and other victims of the earthquake. Feelings run high against the politician who allowed his personal interests to push the nuclear power station into operation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Feb 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781504316422

G. V. Robinette

Grace has lived and worked in the capital city of Melbourne, on a dairy farm, and more recently in the country city of Bendigo. She has experienced many life styles, and observed people living in diverse ways. She has frequently asked why? How come? To what purpose? How to live life better? Grace has long been aware of a Higher Purpose to Life, and has watch people approach this through different levels of understanding. She enjoyed her time interacting with various students as she earned her Bachelor of Arts (Humanity plus Psychology Major) degree at La Trobe Bendigo University, then in earning her Diploma in Professional Writing and Editing at Bendigo Institute of Technology. They were fascinating years of learning: she’d love to do more! Grace admires Nora Robert’s writing especially her some of her Celtic Mystic titles, and would like to think that Reluctant Warrior would be relatable.

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Copyright © 2019 G. V. Robinette.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

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ISBN: 978-1-5043-1641-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-1642-2 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 02/08/2019

Contents

Dedication –

Reluctant Warrior W/C 123,941

Homeward bound Friday 6th July 2012 Laura POV

Lock’n’curls (Before Church Sermon) Friday 6th July 2012

Zeeally Fashions Laura POV Friday 6th July 2012

Angus McCawley Shoes Laura POV Friday 6th July 2012

Supermarket Shopping Laura POV Friday 6th July 2012

Graduation Party Shock Laura Pov Friday 6th July 2016

Over The Cliff Laura POV 27th JULY 2012

Hospital Laura POV Saturday 28th JULY 2012

Morning Miss Hently Laura POV Saturday 28th JULY 2012

Talking With Jess In Hospital Bed Laura POV Saturday 28th July 2012

Off To View Hospital Nursery Laura POV Saturday 28th July 2012

Going To Church Laura POV Sunday 5th August 2012

Mechanics Menace Laura POV Monday 6th August 2012

Lock’n’curls After Church Sermon Laura POV Tuesday 7th August 2012

Crisis Andrew POV Wednesday 29th August 2012

First Public Meeting Andrew POV Friday 17th September 2012

Morning After The First Public Meeting Laura POV Tuesday 18th September 2012

AA Post First Meeting Window Shards Laura POV Tuesday 25th Sept 2012

Cribbage Club Laura POV Tuesday Evening 2nd October 2012

Acceptance To Wyperfeld National Park Laura POV Wednesday 3rd October 2012

Friday 5th October 2012 Prissy Jayne Laura POV

Jess In Rehab Andrew’s POV Thursday 4th October 2012

Cafe Discussion Laura POV Sunday 7th October 2012

Facing Down Predators Laura POV Tuesday 9th October 2012

Jess comes home Andrew POV Friday 19th October

Jess And Laura Sketching Gum Tree. Laura POV Thursday 25th October 2012

Jess Returns To Work At Lock’n’curls Laura POV Monday 29th October 2012

Small Party At Cafe Laura POV Friday 2nd November 2012

ANDREASSON’S TO GLOVERS LAURA POV SATURDAY 3rd NOVEMBER 2012

Talks To Raise Funds For Women’s Refuges Andrew POV Sunday 4Th November 2012

Andrew And Angus Face Off Laura POV Saturday 1⁰th November

Accountant Alert Laura POV Tuesday 13th November 2012

Andrew’s Graduation Party Discussion Andrew POV Thursday 15th Nov 2012

Family Day On The Sally Anne Laura POV Saturday 17th November 2012

Fronting Up To The Men’s Group Laura POV Thursday 22nd November 2012

Talking To The Men’s Group Andrew POV

AA Meeting Patsy Distraught Laura POV Friday Afternoon 23th November 2012

Andrew Asks Laura To Go To Melb Andrew POV Friday Late Afternoon 2³rd Nov 2012

Overnight Camp At Gerry’s Farm. Andrew POV Saturday 24th November 2012

First Attempt To Propose Laura POV Saturday Night November 23rd 2012

Jess Dies Laura –POV Saturday Night November 23rd 2012

Jess Died - Andrew’s Pov Sunday Morning 25th November 2012

Stop At Kyneton Andrew POV Late Sunday Morning 25th November 2012

Third Attempt To Propose Andrew POV Sunday Midday 25th November 2012

Panic On The Freeway Laura’s POV Sunday Afternoon 25th November 2012

Earthquake Approaches Laura POV Afternoon Sunday 25th November 2012

Earthquake Approaches Andrew POV Sunday Mid Afternoon 25th November 2012

Earthquake Hits. Laura POV Sunday 25th November 2012

Disaster Andrew POV Sunday 25th November 2012

Earthquake Fallout Andrew POV Sunday Night 25th November 2012

Trust Andrew POV Monday Early 26th November 2012

Hoons Again Laura POV Monday 26th November 2012

Radium-Contaminated Water Seepage Laura POV Monday 26th November 2012

Boulder Removal Andrew POV Monday 26th November 2012

Foreman Resistent To Andrew Andrew POV Monday 26th November 2012

Frank’s Folly Andrew’s POV Monday 2⁶th November 2012

Home To Bury Jess Andrew POV Monday 26th November 2012

Eulogy For A Beloved Sister Andrew POV Tuesday 27th November 2012

How Did Jess Know About Marriage? Laura POV Tuesday 11th December 2012

Gran In Hospital Laura POV Friday 21st December

Hospital Andrew POV Friday 21st December 2012

In Gran’s Room Laura POV Friday 21st December

In Gran’s Room Andrew POV Friday 21st December 2012

Hostage Situation Laura’s POV Friday 21st December 2012

Assessing Possible Weapons Andrew POV Friday 21st December 2012

Negotiator Laura’s POV Friday 21st December 2012

Dedication –

My thanks to so many people who have assisted me with knowledge, including those who did not know it at the time. From family members, friends, to once met strangers, like the man who shared my table one night at a Café; he proceeded to explain the process of choosing chemicals and the right proportion of mix to either delay or speed up the process of hardening concrete. Also, the helpful staff at a heavy machinery business who explained the usage of that machinery, and the website where I could ascertain the properties of soil.

My thanks also for the valuable assistance of the Bendigo Goldfields librarians; their work space is my second home!

Of course, there is the Bendigo Writers Council with their instructive speakers, and most especially Tuesday Writers, where my friends are helping me to determine my novel’s genres, for truly I am still too close to Laura and Andrew.

Plus, the valuable assistance of House of Hay’s Balboa Press people in getting my novel published.

I invite my readers to accompany Laura as she experiences the joys and difficulties of growth on her coming of age journey, plus welcome them to send feedback via my publisher.

Spoiler alert! You may need to keep a box of tissues handy.

Grace V. Robinette

Reluctant Warrior W/C 123,941

Aunt Jayne calls me a Warrior.

I don’t feel like one.

I still cringe at thoughts of the Reverend Trapper. At his cruelty, the way he hammered at his wife during that sermon.

But I stood up to him. Me. The wimp who prefers to hide behind a book while others fight.

I hate it when words fly around with the vengeance of duelling knives. Yet some people love participating in a stoush where they verbally carve pieces off each other. Add character assassinations and ugh!

Homeward bound Friday 6th July 2012 Laura POV

You are invited ….

I caress the letter from Jess.

Letter? It’s more a newsletter. She’s included photos taken of her throughout her hairdressing apprenticeship, with photos both at Lock’n’Curls and at Bendigo TAFE. The centre of the front page has a large print of Jess being awarded her Certificate II.

This is one twenty year-old girl who is going places fast.

My best friend is radiant. In that central, full colour photo her curly hair is wild. Naturally a strawberry blonde, she’s got it streaked with purple and black, from what I can make out.

I hoist my battle flags. Jess is triumphant, but she is not doing that to my hair. Moderation is the key, my Best Friend Forever!

Radiant also describes her parents. Likewise her brothers, as they crowd around her.

Especially one brother: the eldest, the warm glow in his eyes as he regards his baby sister. My heart glows warm as I look at his face, as I relish the memories seeing him evokes.

According to his parents, Andrew let Jess crawl over him in the same way that the dogs did while he lay on the floor doing his homework. No kidding. I’ve seen the photos. They always brought out a yearning in me for the big brother I never had.

Boys.

The V-Line bus rumbles along the highway.

Three young boys have been running along the aisle. Their mother is exhausted; her boys are engines on legs. Our bus jolts over potholes. The boy in the lead stumbles as he reaches my seat. I catch him as he falls.

"Trev-vor, please! His mother catches up with him. I hope he wasn’t bothering you, Miss," she says as her practiced hands do their diagnostic search over his body.

If you would like ... I mean, I’ve just finished my six month volunteering stint in the Yellingbo Nature Conservation Reserve. I’ve got all these photos of the local fauna. If you think your boys would like to see them?

Their mother looks concerned, but more – I suspect – over her conflicting needs to watch over her sons and to grab some rest, preferably a sleep.

You could use the seat next to us, I offer. Those passengers got off at Bendigo.

She looks at the empty seat, then at each of her – suddenly eager – sons, then back to the beckoning seat. Her body demands surrender.

If you’re sure they won’t be a bother? The mother barely waits for my response. She crumples onto the seat. Her sons crowd around me.

The bus swoops around a wide bend.

Yaeee! The boys giggle.

I hold them close to me, to keep them safe while the bus leans into the road’s curves. Their mother merely rolls in her seat.

Lock’n’curls (Before Church Sermon) Friday 6th July 2012

Ding! The familiar chime greets me as I open the door to Lock’n’Curls, and enter Echuca’s hallowed shrine to women’s beauty. I have to smile at a sudden memory; myself, clinging to Dad’s hand as we walked past, me yearning to enter. When Mum came in here, I’d get my hair done, and then I’d go sit in the corner – that one, over there, where the beehive hair dryers stood – while Mum got ‘the works.’

A happy memory. Only happy memories are allowed to surface today, I remind myself.

Well, well. Look who just came in! Annie Deeble hurries over and envelopes me in a warm hug. Cheers resound around the salon. If I ever felt alone and unwelcome – which I have, too many times to count – that certainly is not the situation here!

Annie’s fingers are threading through my hair. Where have you been, and what have you been doing? Just look at her, she calls out to her stylists, we’ll be all day, trying to rescue her beautiful hair!

When can you fit me in? I ask, Because I’ve got a party tonight.

That’ll be the graduation party for young Jess, says Annie. I’ll squeeze you in and do you myself.

Don’t you want me to come back a bit later?

Look, sister, you ain’t got time to go away and come back later, not with all the work we’re going to have to do with this witches’ broomstick you call hair. First, a shampoo. Monica!

I’ve already washed it, I wail, this morning! But too late. I’m dragged away by a pert waif.

You haven’t washed it the way I wash hair, Monica says, as she settles me at the basin. She applies water, Then squirts a generous supply of shampoo onto my hair, and starts working it in.

Ah, I sigh, and relax under Monica’s ministrations. "That feels sooo good."

Told you. Monica’s fingers knead my scalp and squishes the shampoo through my hair. She starts the water running and my hair is rinsed clear. I hear that Jess’s big brother’s coming home for the party.

I sit straighter, my eyes wide opened. Monica - her grin all knowing - pushes me back into the chair.

Not a bad looker, that one, Monica comments, in an offhand tone, as she turns off the tap. She spins me around in the chair and grabs a towel to dry my hair.

Mm, I say, my sole response, yet can’t help but exchange a grin with Monica via the mirror.

Then Annie’s got me in her chair, and hair goes flying as she wields her scissors. Cut strands tickle my forehead: I reach up to brush it off.

No you don’t, says Annie, and she uses her hand brush to dust stray hairs from my face. Just ask, is all.

How can you talk so fast, and carry on a conversation with someone else, while cutting my hair? You don’t stop or pause or anything.

My fingers know what they’re doing.

How can they? I mean, it’s not like you study my hair and plan your strategy of attack.

"Attack? Attack? Annie scolds with mock ferocity. My fingers know your hair; they can feel the way your hair is growing, and they know all the latest modes, too."

You mean, your fingers read the latest hair journals?

And they can tell natural colours from dyes.

I haven’t been dying my hair!

Not chemical dyes. Whatever you’ve been doing, the sun’s brought out your hair’s natural golden lights.

Annie grins at me in the mirror, then her hands still as she turns to respond to another customer’s farewell, and to comment on her hairdo.

Jess Webster told me that she was your apprentice, I start.

Ah, that girl! Annie pauses, and smiles, her eyes close. She has such skill, such knowing in her finger tips!

Better watch out, she might set herself up in competition with you.

Competition with me? Annie snorts. "That one, she’ll be working here, with me, mind. Even if I have to take her into partnership in this salon to keep her here!"

"She’s that good?" I ask.

You bet. Annie nods. Born knowing, that girl. Now, where were we? she asks, as she resumes cutting. How did you get your hair into such a state? You look like you’ve been living in brambles or such like.

Sort of. I smile. ‘You remember how I’ve longed to work in our national parks? Well last year I finished my studies, and this year I’ve spent the past six months volunteering in Yellingbo Nature Conservation Reserve."

Why would you want to disappear into those wilds?

Work experience; it’s so important to get a good report. Which I should have. I hesitate, and screw up my nose at my mirror self. I hope I will, anyway.

And what next?

Well, I wince when Annie’s comb snags a knot. ‘As soon as my papers arrive, I’ll be scouring job opportunities, and then I’ll send off to Victoria National Parks with my applications."

What have national parks got that we haven’t got? Annie demands.

Leadbeater’s Possums. I grin at Annie’s stunned expression in the mirror.

Annie spins my chair around, and stares at me. What on Earth are Lebuster’s Possums?

Leadbeater’s Possums. They’re tiny, I turn her hands so that her finger tips meet. The possum’s body is as long as from your wrist here, to your fingertips here. Again I point. Then, their clubbed tails would extend across your other hand to your bangles on this wrist, see? I look up at Annie. At least it would, if you had one of the possums sitting on your hands. Which you can’t, for two very good reasons.

Which are? Annie asks.

I look around the salon, and note that everyone seems to be watching, to be absorbing every word I’m saying.

One, they’re nocturnal, so they’ll be asleep right now.

And?

Two, they’re endangered, so that there’s no way you’d get to have one here, in this salon. Of course, you’d have such a draw card, if you could have an enclosed habitat set up in your shop window, People would be hanging around all through the night hoping to see them.

And possibly to steal them, Monica calls out. I know some guys who wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity.

Friends of yours? Annie asks. She frowns as she peers across to her shampoo girl. Maybe Monica is a recent addition to the salon?

I wouldn’t call them friends, Monica hedges. More friends of acquaintances, so to speak.

Hmm, Annie responds. She looks searchingly at Monica, who shrugs, and returns to washing her client’s hair. No, a draw card it may be, but not for my place.

So, what’s been happening in town? I ask, to distract Annie.

Well, Annie starts, and her comb continues to shape and her scissors cut. I hear tell Andrew Webster’s coming home for this party. Annie looks at my face in the mirror as she speaks, but this time I’m ready, and watch from under my lashes. She continues with giving me the run down, but to be honest, my mind is showcasing video clips of Andrew Webster, starting from the first time I saw him. How I yearned to have a big brother like Andrew. The way he’d pick up Jess, and balance her on his shoulders, then run after the rest of us! Ah, even though I was two years older, Jess’s tenth birthday party was my entree into a dream world of what family life should be!

Mind you, it was only about three years later that I realised how glad I was that he was not my brother. Oh yes. Dream world incarnate, that guy.

Have you gone to sleep there, girl? Annie gives me a gentle shake. "Wake up sister, time’s running out. You’d best get yourself along to Zeeally Fashions. Sheila’s got some lovely dresses in that will show off your figure nicely."

But ... Buy dresses? When I’ve still got two I bought last year and haven’t got around to wearing yet?

"I hear Andrew’s bringing home a companion, one who’s a real smart dresser."

What colours does Sheila have in stock?

Why don’t you get along and see for yourself, girl? No, you put that away, Annie says, as I get out my wallet. Then get along to Rickles’, buy some dancing shoes to go with your new dress. When you’ve done all that, she calls after me as I head towards the door, "get yourself back here with what you’ve bought, and you’ll have both a manicure and a pedicure to go with them. Mind you buy strappy dancing shoes now!"

I stand there, staring back at Annie, my mouth agape. I’m stunned at how loved I feel.

Go on, girl. Time’s awasting!

Will do, I call back, and am still laughing as I head down to Zeeally Fashions.

Zeeally Fashions Laura POV Friday 6th July 2012

I’m standing outside Zeeally Fashions, and feeling confused, stunned, and certainly overwhelmed, as I take in the dresses displayed in Sheila Sumners’ window. That’s when I realise the impact Dad had on my fashion sense, what with his, Subdued, that’s what you want. That’s what my wife had, a subdued taste in clothing. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself. It’s simply not done!

Now I’m standing here, looking at these garments, not one of which fit the criteria of ‘subdued’! My mobile phone vibrates. I drag it out of my cargo pants pocket.

Jess! How’s my qualified hair stylist aka Best Friend Forever?

Laura, where are you? You should be here, I’m telling you. Andrew’s arrived with the Sylvie strumpet.

Strumpet? What’s that?

You’d better ask Dad. It’s his name for this monstrosity what’s come home with Andrew. Just a mo.

Obviously Jess has tucked her mobile against herself; I must make a note to tell my BFF that it doesn’t muffle sound enough. Her mother’s calling for help in the kitchen.

Back again. Gotta rush. So, where are you, you didn’t say.

Didn’t get a chance. I’m outside Zeeally’s trying to work out what to buy. Nothing here would meet with Dad’s approval.

"You ask me, he just wanted to be able to not see you around. Get whatever you like. But a warning; if you turn up in grey cargo pants and T-shirt, I’m going to strip you and put you into something of mine! Gotta go."

I look down at my stone coloured cargo pants and a quiet brown, not grey polo shirt. You could almost call them my uniform, so I guess she does have a point.

Hello stranger. A woman’s voice snaps me out of my abstraction.

Sheila Sumners. How nice to see you.

Good to see you too. Sheila smiles. Did something in my windows catch your eye? Come on in.

I follow her, and look around the store. Wow.

I think ‘Wow’ too. You’d be wanting something for the Webster’s party tonight?

"Does everyone know about the party?"

Everyone who knows Jess. She’s very popular around here, but you know that. So. Sheila gestures about the store. Something here interest you?

Just about everything, I confess. I don’t know where to start.

The only way to go is to try them all on. Sheila leads me to the cubicles. You’d be size 12, right? I nod. In you go, and strip down to your bra and briefs.

I do, and check out my figure in the full length mirror. Well, at least nothing sags, but voluptuous, is one thing I ain’t. Wonder if that’s what Andrew’s looking for in a woman? Bet this strumpet – whatever that is – has it in spades.

Forget her, I demand, as I stare into my reflection’s eyes.

Sheila returns, and her arm is laden. She twirls her finger for me to turn around. I do, and suck my tummy in just in case.

Shoes off, as well, I think.

I turn to look at Sheila.

They’d only spoil the look of these dresses.

I look down at my desert boots, then across to the dresses. I’ve virtually lived in these boots for the past six months. You’re probably right, I say, and toe them off.

"I’m always right. Sheila grins at me. Be right with you," she calls into the store, and leaves me to try out the garments.

I try one after the other. Some are too short, others just not me. I’m trying to decide between a black spliced bandeau dress – but seeing that it’s strapless, I’d probably need to buy a Wondabra. The other dress that’s caught my eye is a calypso print dress, with the hem gathered up at both sides.

I greet Sheila’s return with relief. This one, but I’d need a Wondabra as it’s strapless, or this one. Which?

Neither. First, you’ll need a new bra in any case. One with C-cups, which is why you’re bulging over the top of the bra you’re wearing. Whatever you’ve been doing this past year - plus the fact that you’re still finishing off your growth pattern - has increased your size. So try this on, Sheila says, as she hands me a new bra. One with shoulder straps.

But? I take hold of the bra and look up at Sheila.

It’s not a Wondabra. You don’t need one, not with your shaping. Plus I’ve got this wrap around dress for you. You’ll look a treat in it. Should grab the eyes of any man you fancy at ten paces.

I gulp. Right. It only takes a matter of moments to swap clothes.

Sheila has me turn around, several times. I watch in the mirror. Sheila? I turn to face her. You’re spot on with this one.

Of course, Sheila smiles, besides, you wouldn’t want to steal Jess Webster’s limelight from her, now would you?

You mean?

"Yes. She’s wearing the calypso dress tonight. It is her graduation party, after all."

You are so right, and that blue print is definitely her colour!

While this one you’ve got on has creamy white flowers spread over dark chocolate background, certainly more exotic looking, and very much more your colouring, I should think.

I steal one more glance in the mirror at the dress, smooth the silky fabric over my hips, and move with a wiggle. I can’t help it. This is the kind of outfit that – while comparatively modest - demands a wiggle.

Sheila’s grin definitely agrees.

Then a glance at my watch. Oops, time’s running, got to buy shoes yet.

Angus McCawley Shoes Laura POV Friday 6th July 2012

Hello, I call to the man arranging a display of children’s sandals. Would you know where I can find either Mr or Mrs Rickles?

This tall, brawny man – a Scot, I’d venture a guess – turns and smiles. I haven’t met him before, or I’d certainly remember him.

Angus McCawley, at your service, he says, as he reaches across to shake hands.

Laura Hently. Mmm, nice to meet you, I say, blush, and repeat Andrew Webster, Andrew Webster.

Do you like my display? Angus asks.

Your display?

Yes. Angus takes pity on my confusion. I took over from the Rickles, a month back now.

But I….? I glance at the shop windows, to where Rickles Shoe Shop stretches across the glass.

My shop sign is coming in next week.

Oh. Um. Heat surges into my cheeks. Sorry about that.

You were looking for them?

Well, no, I’m wanting some dancing shoes.

Ah, there now, you’ve come to the right spot. Those are your dancing clothes in the bag? Give me a look, and we’ll see what we can come up with.

I shake out my dress, and we walk around his shop.

Angus comes up with some very fetching shoes, but one way and the other, well .…

Are you a local? Angus asks as he hands me yet another pair of high heeled sandals to try on.

Sure am. I stand, and wobble. And grimace. These are too high for me.

Angus finds another pair for me to try. So, why haven’t I seen you in here? He frowns. Do you usually do your shopping in Bendigo, instead of shopping locally?

I laugh. I’ve spent this past year so far from shoe shops; in fact, totally bereft from all forms of retail therapy, I confess. And truly, confession is good for the soul, or is that sole? I’ve actually enjoyed this afternoon’s mad rush!

So, where have you been?

I have been wearing safety boots – and desert boots – with full work gear while doing treks through the Yellingbo Nature Conservation Reserve, north-east of Melbourne. Not all that far from Healesville, at least when you consider our distances. They’ve got a captive breeding program going, where they’re trying to re-establish this elusive breed.

Why are they elusive?

Because they’re nocturnal.

Sorry. You lost me.

They sleep through the day, and only come out at night, I explain. And their colouring camouflages them amongst the trees so well, that people have difficulty finding the possums.

Why do you need to find them?

To count them. That’s why the conservation group puts out LMU breeding boxes.

LMU?

Sorry. It’s so easy to slip into jargon. Leadbeaters Possum Management Units. We collect the boxes, and tally up the possums. Gives us a chance to note whether the population is growing.

Or not?

Or not, I nod, and grimace.

The bush fires must be destructive on their numbers, Angus says, as he hands me yet another pair of strappy sandals, not so high this time.

Not only bushfires, I answer, as I slip into the new pair. It’s the tree logging that does the most damage to these creatures. I stand, take some dancing steps, and glance at the shop clock. Then, it’s despair time.

Look, Angus, you’ve really got some beautiful shoes here, I love them, truly.

But. I hear a ‘but’ in there.

Seems to me the height of most of them are designed with tall women, with at least size ten feet and larger in mind. Why don’t they make the heel heights proportionate with the lasts? I wail as my ankle turns, and I come crashing down. Angus catches me mid-fall, and swings my body around so that I land on a nearby chair.

See what you mean. Angus holds onto me longer than I need. Yet he lets go when I edge myself aside.

Look. I really like those moss green ballet flats, with their ruffled bow trim on the toes. I glance at the clock. "Angus, we’ve been talking so much about my work, and don’t get me wrong, for I absolutely love talking about what I’ve been doing. The possums are so delightful. Who couldn’t love them? But time is running out. I’ve got the party tonight, and I’ve yet to return to Lock’n’Curls for a manicure and a pedicure."

Have you considered this pair, with the wedge heels and leather flowers where the straps join above the toes? Try them on; I’m sure you’d love them. They’d show off your pedicure a treat.

Angus, I have a problem. There’s dancing tonight at Jess Webster’s party.

And the problem is?

Given that I’ve been wearing work boots for the past six months, my muscles have clearly realigned. The thought of copping a sprained ankle is so not on my agenda, you know?

Angus slides his hand along my calf muscles. Pity. You have such beautiful legs. Ah well. He stands. You really do like these ballet flats?

Yes, I’d be buying them anyway. But I’ll get more fun dancing in them without worrying about my ankles.

Then ballet flats it is. Reckon you’ve got a sensible head on those pretty shoulders of yours, Laura girl.

If I’ve got a sensible head, I’d be wise to keep a watch on this guy’s hands! I’ll need a clutch bag to go with them.

Certainly. This cream one with a brass buckle and strap around the middle, it would suit your dress. Or the other one that’s the same moss green as the shoes?

I buy the green. Not only is the clutch the same colour, but the ruffled bow trim is a clincher.

Supermarket Shopping Laura POV Friday 6th July 2012

The clutch bag and ballet flats join my new dress in Zeeally’s bag. I dash back to Sheila’s, to purchase the briefs that match the bra I’m wearing tonight, seeing how there isn’t going to be time to get home to my lonely unit to change for the party. Then it’s off to Bushell’s Supermarket, where I buy a salad from the deli. And field more questions about volunteering, of what I gain from all of my work, seeing as how I’m not getting paid for my efforts. Hell, there’s more things to gain than merely money. Then jokes about wearing night goggles while searching for Leadbeater’s Possums, which is fine, but.

Then I meet up with Sally Smale while I’m trying to select a new toothbrush.

Having trouble? Asks Sally Smale.

Oh, Mrs Smale. Where did all these choices come from, while I was living in the wilds of Yellingbo?

Try this one.

I take the ergonomic tooth brush and pop it into my basket.

Sally’s looking peaked. There seems to be discolouration of some kind on her cheek bone. And her dress is looking a bit on the shabby side. Have times got that difficult for them on the river?

Thank you. It’s time I threw out my old brush, anyway. How are things on the river? I notice the slight frown that pinches her brows together, emphasising her developing stress groove, and hurry on. I’ve had such fun with you and Mr Smale over the years. All those times you took me with you, to help, you said. Then – when I got older - to properly work serving food to your tourists. I sigh, with honest regret, and add, The highlights of my childhood, they were. Watching that big paddle wheel go around, and the deft way Mr Smale turned the boat using the river currents.

I then sigh with relief as Mrs Smale’s face relaxes into a real smile.

Why don’t you call me Sally? My, you’ve grown, especially since you’ve been away. She pauses, and takes stock of me, of my adult size. You’ll be going to Jess Webster’s graduation party, tonight, right?

"Does everyone know of this party?"

Sure do, Pru Witchby butts in.

Mrs Witchby, how nice to see you, I reach out and pat her arm. How is Doc Quinlan?

Oh, Jeph’s keeping me busy in the surgery, as usual.

I glance at my watch. Oh. Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve really got to be running.

You call in at the surgery, and tell me all about what you’ve been doing these past months, you hear?

Yes, of course, I reply, and start to move.

Laura, Mrs Smale – Sally – says. She’s still hanging onto my arm.

Yes?

"Would you – you and Jess Webster – be willing to work on the Sally Anne tomorrow? We’ve got a group of tourists booked in, and I’ll need help in the galley. We’ll pay you," she adds, when I hesitate.

No, of course that should be okay. Really it should. I’ll make sure to have Jess up and about early.

Fine. Be here by 9:30, if you can.

Will do. I make my escape back to Lock’n’Curls.

At this rate, it’s going to be a case of eat on the go tonight. I’ll inhale the salad at Annie’s during the manicure and pedicure process. Then get dressed in the salon and grab a taxi to Webster’s farm.

So much for thinking I’d only need an hour or so, tops.

Graduation Party Shock Laura Pov Friday 6th July 2016

Cars.

Cars and utes plus a few motor bikes crowd along the drive at Webster’s farm. Yet no way had the profusion of vehicles been needed to give advance notice of the party in progress. After the comparative peace and quiet of Yellingbo, heavy bass notes throbbing through the airwaves was more than enough warning.

Laura, so glad you could make it. Come on in.

I eagerly accept Mrs Webster’s hug, and follow her into the house.

Look who we have here, Jess – and Andrew’s – mother calls out.

Laura. Laura Hently. I’d thought you’d forgotten us, really, I did. Mr Webster reaches out and wraps me up in a bear hug.

S so -sorry I’m late, I stutter, embarrassed. My Dad never hugs me like this, but I know I could get used to it, if I could only get the chance.

Annie gave you the works, I see. Knew she would, says Mrs Webster, that’s why I booked you in with her.

Booked me in? I struggle to make sense of the situation. But I just went along, turned up, and asked if she could fit me in.

And she did fit you in? Mrs Webster grins. With the works? Silly girl. How do you think she’d be able to do all that at the last moment, unless she’d been told in advance?

She refused to charge me. I frown at Jess’s mother. Was that you as well?

No, dear one, that was Annie Deeble’s generous heart. Haven’t you known, all these years, that Annie’s another one of the townsfolk who’ve adopted you?

Oh … Tears swell up, and threaten to ruin Annie’s skilful make-up.

Josh, tissue box, please, says Mrs Webster as she pulls me back into her arms.

Thanks. I grab a tissue from the box Mr Webster offers and start rubbing.

No, no no, says Mrs Webster. She takes the tissue from me, and gently dabs along my eye lids. Gently does it, or I’ll need to drag Annie out here to make some repairs.

She wouldn’t be happy. I manage a watery gurgle. That’s not her preferred music. Light and airy, that’s more Annie’s style.

Yet the modern generation manage to dance to these dis-harmonics.

If you could call that dancing, Jess’s father interjects. "All that jiggling about. Not like the real music we had."

"Joshua Webster. You were into Heavy Metal when we first met. Your mother despaired of ever getting you to leave Alice Cooper behind."

Alice Cooper? I ask. My brain tosses around some historical trivia. Wasn’t he the cross-dressing shick jock?

Mrs Webster taps her husband on his chest. "I always thought that in your drawn out rebellious years you were endeavouring to shock your parents. Maybe get them to let you have a life of your own?"

Her husband shrugs, then grins. Guilty as charged.

Did it actually work? I ask. This interplay between what Jess refers to as her ‘oldies’ opens up a whole new world-view.

Mmm. Yes and no.

More yes than no, his wife butts in. "They were relieved to find out how much he actually