Wish Read Free Page A

a grey singlet and matching boxers.
    Bedtime, then, for it had been a long day.
    ‘Blue’s still at the kitchen door,’ said Cal as she tucked him in. ‘I gave him water.’
    ‘Good work,’ she said and tugged at the light cord that dangled from the ceiling.
    ‘Mum!’
    ‘What?’
    ‘It’s dark.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘Really dark.’ No mistaking the edge of panic in Cal’s voice. ‘I might read for a bit,’ said her son who was no enthusiastic reader. So it was lights back on and Billie hanging up clothes in her bedroom while Cal settled.
    Eventually, Cal drifted off to sleep and Billie turned out the lights again and fumbled her way to the bed. This place was beautiful but she wasn’t used to it. Not the sounds of the night, the stillness or the darkness.
    Eventually, she slept.
    And slept better for knowing that Adam Kincaid’s dog was around.

Chapter Three
    Monday morning in Inverglen didn’t seem a whole lot busier than Sunday afternoon had been. Billie parked alongside a handful of dusty vehicles in the wide main street and took a quick survey of the shops. Bakery, newsagent, greengrocer, Chinese restaurant; the faded signs matched the faded window displays, but the trees along the footpath were lovely and the benches beneath them added a welcoming touch.
    ‘Can I try a pie?’ asked Cal when they spotted the bakery.
    ‘You’ve already had breakfast.’
    ‘Yeah, but that was hours ago.’
    ‘It’s nine-thirty am.’
    ‘Feels like lunchtime.’
    He had a point. Billie dug in her back pocket for her wallet. ‘One for each of us.’
    ‘What about a cream bun?’
    ‘Do I look like a soft touch to you?’
    Cal nodded, grinning.
    ‘Such boundless optimism. I like that in a kid.’
    ‘So can I have one?’
    ‘No. We’ll grocery shop afterwards,’ she said, her attention caught by the pub on the corner of the next block. This was her first good look at the place she’d come to manage and from a distance it looked to be a grand old building. A well-built century-old blue-brick, it stood two stories high and had a red tin roof with the word ‘HOTEL’ painted on it in large silver letters. Wide verandahs surrounded the building. The verandahs were framed by intricate wrought iron railings. Huge double doors opened onto the lower verandah at regular intervals, and call it luck, fate, or the will of capricious gods, but there were two old men sitting out on that verandah, enjoying the morning sun, and one of them was Roly Stuart, publican and current owner of the Northern Arms, and the other was Arthur Bent, the toothless rental agent who hadn’t been answering his calls this morning. ‘Meet me over at the pub, okay?’
    Cal nodded and headed for the bakery door. Billie headed for the pub. An empty dirt car park sat behind the pub on the side street and on from that ran a tidy little row of houses. Why couldn’t one of those have been empty and available for renting?
    Beside the pub, along the main drag, stood a hardware store, and next to that a bank. Useful company. Well-maintained company, which was more than she could say for the pub. Because the closer Billie got the shabbier
it
got.
    Roly Stuart had interviewed her in Sydney and waxed lyrical about the potential of the place.
    Roly Stuart was quite the optimist.
    ‘Morning, Billie.’ Roly was a big man in his late sixties with a ready smile, a still-chiselled jaw and a penchant for informality. ‘Arthur here was just telling me you’ve already met.’
    ‘We met yesterday when I picked up the keys to the cottage.’ She turned to Arthur. ‘You need to find me somewhere else to live.’
    ‘I expect you’ve met Adam, then,’ said Arthur.
    ‘Last night. He thought I’d be older.’
    ‘Ha,’ said Arthur. ‘Wish I’d been there.’
    ‘Ha,’ said Billie. ‘Consider yourself lucky you weren’t. Adam Kincaid was also under the impression that I was country born and bred. Hard to say where he got
that
idea from.’
    ‘Yeah,’ said