McKellan's Run Page 2

  ‘Have a great day.’

  Holly gave her a broad smile. ‘I will.’

  ‘You’re excited aren’t you, about meeting the other kids?’

  ‘Ah-huh. Mummy, stop worrying. I’ll be alright.’

  Violet gave her another squeeze. When had Holly become so perceptive? It seemed like only yesterday when she started to talk.

  ‘You’ll be having fun while I’ll be stacking up the last few boxes in the spare room before starting on the floors. Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you to your new classroom?’

  Holly shook her head. ‘Nope, I’ll be fine.’

  The bell sounded and Holly gave her mother a peck on the cheek. Reluctantly Violet let her go and watched as she skipped up the steps at the front of the school.

  ‘I’ll see you later then. I’ll pick you up from here,’ Violet called out as she pointed to where she was standing.

  Holly looked over her shoulder and waved before she disappeared into the building.

  Violet stood there a while longer, staring in the direction Holly had gone. Her stomach was knotted. Lord, she was more nervous about Holly’s first day in a new school than her daughter was.

  ‘Are you okay?’ came a woman’s voice from behind her.

  Violet turned to see two women smiling at her. One was a little shorter than Violet and had a warm friendly face and deep russet-coloured hair that fell around her shoulders. The other woman was taller, thinner and had her blonde hair dragged back into a ponytail.

  ‘Oh, yes I’m fine. Thanks,’ said Violet.

  ‘I’m Meg Laragy,’ said the redheaded woman, offering her hand, ‘and this is my friend Sally Ford,’ she added.

  ‘Hi, I’m Violet Beckett,’ said Violet, shaking her hand and nodding to Sally. ‘It’s my daughter’s first day. We’ve just moved up from Melbourne.’

  ‘What grade is she in?’

  ‘Um, grade one with Mrs Henshaw.’

  ‘Oh our girls are in that class! I’ll tell Amber to keep an eye on . . .’

  ‘Holly, my daughter’s name is Holly.’

  ‘Right then. We’ll make sure Amber and Kylie help her find her way around.’

  ‘Thank you—that’s very kind,’ said Violet, smiling.

  ‘Not at all. If there’s anything you need just let me know. Even if it’s just a coffee and a chat,’ Meg said.

  ‘So where are you living?’ asked Sally.

  ‘I’m over on Black Jack Road.’

  ‘Oh, it’s pretty over that side of town, although I always thought it odd that they called the road after a card game,’ Sally said with a frown.

  ‘Um, actually it was named after a notorious bushranger who lived in this area during the gold rush. According to legend “Jack” wore a black mask every time he robbed and raided and that’s how he got his name.’

  ‘Really, I didn’t know that,’ said Meg, shaking her head. ‘Did you say your name was Beckett? Are you any relation to the Councillor Beckett who died not that long ago?’ she asked as the three of them fell into step together as they made their way towards the car park.

  ‘Yes, he was my grandfather.’

  ‘My condolences. He was a bit of a character I hear,’ said Sally. ‘Of course, I know your place—it’s a great house. I run past it every morning. Are you doing it up?’

  ‘Yes, it needs a lot of work but I can only afford to do a bit at a time,’ said Violet.

  ‘Oh, you’re so lucky to be able to restore a wonderful old house like that,’ said Meg. ‘I bet it still has all its original features.’

  ‘It sure does,’ said Violet.

  ‘I love old houses,’ said Sally, ‘but Jim insisted on opting for a new build. I’m over on Prospect Way if you ever want to come over for a coffee.’

  ‘We’re around the corner from each other,’ Meg said, leaning against the fence beside her friend. ‘And you’re more than welcome.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Violet, smiling. ‘That’s very sweet of you both.’

  If anyone else told Violet how lucky she was to be restoring an old house, she might lose it. The romantic notion she’d had about just how lovely it would be to bring the house back to life had been totally obliterated. The culprit had been a belt sander and what seemed like endless kilometres of wooden floors. Okay, she was exaggerating—but not by much.

  Her rapidly decreasing funds had prompted her into one of the most stupid ideas of her life—namely to sand and polish all the wooden floors by herself. So she’d hired the sanding machine from the local hardware store and been slightly indignant when the shop assistant suggested the names of a couple of local tradies who specialized in floor restoration. In hindsight it would have been a much better idea to have used one of them.

  It was the dust that almost did her in. It was in every nook and cranny of every inch of the house. Despite taping off rooms and wearing protective gear, the dust seemed to have invaded everything. To make matters worse, no matter how hard she cleaned, the dust lingered well after the initial job had been completed. For almost two weeks after she finished the sanding, Violet swore that she could taste the grittiness in every cup of coffee she made.

  The only bright spot had been the night she and Holly camped out in the backyard, which Holly had loved. Violet had pulled out some long-forgotten camping equipment from the spare room and pitched the tent beneath the plum trees. They had eaten barbecued sausages wrapped in fresh bread and stared at the twinkling night sky for well over an hour.

  Holly had thought it was a great adventure to have her mother reading her a story by flashlight and telling her about how she and Aunty Lily would sometimes camp out in the bush. Holly’s joy had been infectious and somehow before she fell asleep, she extracted a promise from her mother that they would go camping again.

  Two weeks after Holly’s first day of school and after more hard work than Violet had ever imagined, she sat back in her office chair and admired her newly polished floors.

  She had decided that financially and practically it’d be best to run her business from home and had turned her grandmother’s sewing room into a home office. The room had good bones: a high ceiling, and plenty of light streaming in from the large bay window. After several coats of white paint her office felt light and airy.

  Everything seemed as if it was finally beginning to fall into place.

  Chapter 2

  Violet braced herself against the scratched wooden counter, the heavy weight in her stomach refusing to budge.

  ‘So, Mr Ogilvy, exactly how much would all the repairs cost?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s pretty steep. Because you’ve blown the head gasket it means we have to replace the engine. It’s an old car, perhaps you should think about upgrading it? Anyway,’ he said, looking down at his paperwork, ‘it all comes to $3352.’

  Violet blinked as the enormity of the number sunk into her brain. ‘I’m sorry, how much did you say?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but it all comes to $3352, even if I source the cheapest parts possible,’ said Ned Ogilvy, looking over his glasses and giving her a reassuring smile. ‘Listen Violet, your grandad was a loyal customer and well, hell, you were raised here. I can shave a bit off the price, let’s call it three thousand dollars-even and you can pay it off over a few months if you want.’

  Violet felt numb and sick inside. Where on earth was she going to get three thousand dollars? She’d put all the money she had into getting her business off the ground and even though she was getting some bookings, putting on parties, and building a name for herself as an events planner, there was no way she could just pull that sort of money out of thin air. Being able to pay it off gradually would help but it still put her in a tight spot.

  ‘Um . . . thanks, Mr Ogilvy, that’s um . . . very kind of you.’

  ‘Nah, no worries. So, you need to have a think about whether to go ahead with the repairs or put the money towards a new car.’

  Violet knew she didn’t have an option. She needed a car so she coul
d do the handful of parties she’d been hired for. There was no way she could borrow enough to buy a new car.

  ‘How long will it take?’

  ‘A week or so. If I can get the parts from Bendigo, I’ll hurry it along.’

  Violet’s mind whirled. A week! How was she going to organise and then put on the Freemans’ thirtieth anniversary bash?

  ‘I know how much you depend on that car,’ said Mr Ogilvy. ‘You can use one of ours for free until yours is fixed if you like.’

  ‘Really?’ A surge of relief ran through her. ‘That would be fantastic, thank you so much.’

  He waved his hand as if to swipe away her thanks. ‘It’s fine. Now, the car we can lend you isn’t much to look at but it’s safe and reliable. I’ll get my grandson, Sam, to give it a once-over when he gets back and then he can drop it over to your place after work.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘So, does that mean I go ahead with the repairs?’

  Violet took a breath. She was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea and there was absolutely no way she could get out of it without dropping thousands of dollars.

  ‘Yes, please. That would be great.’

  No matter how hard Violet stared at her computer there was no way she could get her bank balance to remain in the black. It was already flatlining but now with the car repairs it was going in the wrong direction. She pulled up her events calendar. Other than the Freemans’ anniversary party, she had a meet-and-greet for a local businesswoman who was preparing to run for council and two birthday parties. She’d started up the Violet Falls Parties & Events as soon as the last suitcase had been unpacked. So far she’d been pleasantly surprised at how well the town had taken to it. Violet had poured everything she had into setting it up, to the point that even now the spare change jar she kept on top of the fridge was looking a little low.

  Violet had plans for her business. Lovely, expansive plans that would one day draw in parties from not just the local area but as far away as Melbourne. The potential was there and maybe, as time went on, she would consider doing bigger events, perhaps even a wedding or two. But that was a little way down the track.

  Violet Falls had a lot going for it. Other than the old Levine mansion that had been converted into a high-end bed-and-breakfast, there was the ornate neo-Gothic bluestone church in the middle of town, a beautiful botanical gardens, an old theatre (tiny but perfectly formed), a lavender farm and the Gold Dust Vineyards lay on the outskirts. There were also a couple of great restaurants and an old church hall. As a result, the possibility of organising fantastic, elegant parties was there but she needed to embark on things carefully while she got Violet Falls Parties & Events up and running.

  The next couple of weeks were going to be tight, but once she was paid for the upcoming events she’d thought everything would fall into place. Now with the whole car drama she would have to try and book some more events as quickly as she could, just so she and Holly could eat.

  She reached over and flicked on her answering machine. There were three messages and she prayed that one might be about a job. The first was from Lily just saying hello and asking how she and her favourite niece were, the next was from Ned Ogilvy to say they wouldn’t get the parts for two more days and the third was from Sarah McKellan.

  Violet had to listen to Mrs McKellan’s message twice before the words properly sank in.

  ‘Hi Violet, it’s Sarah McKellan. I’m so sorry that you’ve already been back in town for a few months and we haven’t caught up. I’ve been meaning to come around and see you as it’d be good to talk about a couple of things. I’ve been hearing some great reports about the events you’ve been doing and, well, err, I have an event I need help with. It’s short notice but I want you to help me with Jason’s wedding—I hope you’ll consider it. Give me a call. Bye.’

  Violet shook her head. There was no way that she was going anywhere near Jason McKellan—hell would have to freeze over first. She’d call Sarah and tell her that even though she’d love to catch up, she couldn’t plan Jason’s wedding.

  She looked down at the desk, overwhelmed by emotion, only to see the Ogilvy and Sons bill taunting her.

  No, there’s no way she could go through with it. Jason was part of her past and that’s where she needed to keep him. Besides, she’d already heard some of the rumours about her and Holly circulating around Violet Falls. All sorts of stories from wild and funny to some that were just plain vicious. But there was one question that was being whispered all over the place—who was Holly’s father? She couldn’t go anywhere near McKellan’s Run if she wanted to keep Holly safe. Besides, she’d never planned a wedding on her own. She’d assisted at a few and they were invariably hard work.

  Then again, this job could be the answer she was praying for—couldn’t it?

  ‘Mummy,’ Holly called out from the hall.

  ‘Yes, sweetheart?’

  ‘Mummy, I can’t get the bathroom tap to turn off. I turned the handle really hard but the water just keeps coming.’

  ‘Okay, sweetie, I’m coming,’ said Violet as she pushed back her desk chair and stood up. Great, the car blows up and now the plumbing . . . what else could possibly go wrong?

  The plumber gave her a nervous smile and offered some inane comments about old houses and plumbing as he handed her the dreaded bill.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Violet as he headed out the door. Then, glancing down she saw that the bill was for $230. The damn tap had run all night and she shuddered to think what the water bill would be like. Great, just great.

  She’d spent most of the afternoon waiting for the plumber to turn up. Unfortunately it had given her more time to mull over her finances. There was nothing for it; she needed an influx of money as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the only sure bet she had was the McKellan wedding and she just didn’t feel up to taking that on.

  Guilt washed over her. She wanted to help Sarah, she really did, but the thought of going to McKellan’s Run kind of terrified her. Maybe she should ring Sarah and give her some advice? Sarah just might need some direction—there wouldn’t be any harm in lending a hand—just as long as it was from a distance.

  Violet grabbed her handbag and phone. She had to pick up some supplies for the Freemans’ do and stop at the supermarket before picking Holly up from school. She locked the door behind her and hurried down the steps to her borrowed car. But as she slid behind the wheel she felt an overwhelming urge to ring Sarah McKellan. It wasn’t like her to put off anything, even when it was unpleasant, and she couldn’t settle with this wedding hanging over her head.

  She pulled her phone out of the bag and before she could chicken out she punched in Sarah’s number, then sucked in a breath and braced herself.

  ‘Hello?’

  Violet instantly recognised the warm voice on the other end of the line.

  ‘Hi, Mrs McKellan, it’s Violet Beckett. Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner.’

  ‘Violet! Oh, Violet—it’s so lovely to hear from you.’

  ‘Thanks, it’s good to talk to you as well.’ Violet’s heart beat a little faster as old emotions of warmth, happiness and belonging swirled inside of her.

  ‘Are you well?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Oh, Violet, I’ve missed you so much. I’ve kept meaning to drop by and say hello.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Violet. ‘So, I gather you need a bit of help with Jason’s wedding.’

  ‘Yes, I’d really love it if you could plan it. I feel completely out of my depth.’

  Violet’s stomach knotted as she clutched the phone. ‘Seriously, Mrs McKellan, I don’t think this is a good idea.’

  ‘Of course it’s a good idea. You’re an events planner and I’m planning a wedding.’

  ‘I’m more of a party planner really, Mrs McKellan, and I’ve never done a wedding on my own.’

  ‘Oh please, Violet, weddings are just glorified parties after all. And please start calling me Sarah. I feel l
ike I’m a hundred when you call me Mrs McKellan.’

  ‘Okay, Sarah,’ said Violet, laughing, ‘I don’t want you to feel old. But I don’t think I should—’

  ‘Please say you’ll help, Violet. Celine is, shall we say, “determined”. And for some reason she’s hell-bent on the marriage taking place at our home—which I was a bit surprised about because the two of them could afford to have a swanky do in Melbourne. I really need someone to take charge of the planning, otherwise Celine will hijack the whole place with an army of helpers, assistants and coordinators. Mac will be beside himself. I had to do some fast talking to get him to agree in the first place. If Celine is allowed to run amok, well, I really don’t know what he’ll do.’

  Violet couldn’t help but smile. The usually unflappable Sarah McKellan was slightly ruffled. ‘I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Mac has always been a sweetheart. Surely Celine can be reasoned with?’

  ‘Oh really? Last night she called and asked what was my opinion of painting over the original wallpaper in the great room. You know when part of the wall was damaged years ago, Mac spent months and a small fortune tracking down original rolls of the paper so the whole thing could be restored. He ended up having to get it from London. Well, you can imagine his response when I relayed that conversation. I swear one of Mac’s eyes started twitching when I told him about it.’

  An image of the great room popped into Violet’s head. From what she could remember it was huge, with high ceilings and French doors which opened out into a courtyard. It had once been called the ballroom, though that was a long time ago—balls were pretty few and far between these days in Violet Falls.

  ‘Oh,’ Violet said.

  ‘And she wondered if she could pay a gardener to pull out a section of the rose garden and put in a huge wrought-iron rostrum.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Ah, indeed. That rose garden was planted by Mac’s great-grandmother. I really need you on this, Violet, please.’