Good Intentions Read online

  Good Intentions

  Marg McAlister

  Contents

  About this book

  1. The Adventure Begins

  2. On the Trail

  3. Shirley

  4. Chook

  5. Heat Wave

  6. Mystery

  7. Scott

  8. Rolling Along

  9. Family

  10. Being Crafty

  11. Pursuit

  12. Follow the Money

  13. Girls’ Day Out

  14. Heating Up

  15. Out and About

  16. On the Hunt

  17. Sleeping on It

  18. Dawn

  19. Seeking “Auntie”

  20. Facing the Past

  21. Chook Goes Hunting

  22. Circle the Wagons

  23. Danger Ever Closer

  24. Happy Hour

  25. Darkness Comes

  26. Disaster

  27. On the Run

  28. Ashes

  29. Aftermath

  Glossary

  From the Author

  The Georgie B. Goode Series

  Good Intentions

  Copyright 2016 Marg McAlister

  All Rights Reserved

  GeorgieBGoode.com

  Book Design by Annie Moril

  Illawarra ePublishing electronic publication

  EBooks are not transferable. All Rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  About this book

  An idyllic rainforest that holds dark secrets.

  A cold-hearted criminal and a woman on the run.

  A bushfire, racing across the Australian bush, eating up everything in its path…

  None of this is quite what Georgie B. Goode, 8th generation gypsy, expected in her first month in Australia!

  After telling Georgie that 'one day' he will take her to visit all the places he has told her about in Australia, Scott Mowbray has finally persuaded her not only to visit, but also to spend a year exploring the country with him.

  But...well, you know Georgie. She couldn't leave her crystal ball behind, and just because she's way 'Down Under' in the southern hemisphere, that doesn't mean that she will stop attracting trouble!

  People who need Georgie and her special skills always seem to find her, wherever she is. Georgie is visiting Scott’s parents on the Gold Coast Hinterland in Queensland, Australia, in a little place called Canungra, near Tamborine Mountain. It’s an idyllic place, cool and green and beautiful. There, Scott’s parents, Louise and Tony Mowbray, have established a private campground for RVers on their family property. As an act of kindness, they let a lone traveller called Shirley stay on as their caretaker.

  But Shirley has a secret. She's running from something in her past, and her past is about to catch up with her…just as everyone else is running from the bushfire that threatens to take away everything the Mowbrays have worked for.

  Get Your Free Book

  Whether she wanted to believe it or not, from birth Georgie was destined to follow in her Great-Grandma Rosa’s footsteps—as well as inherit her crystal ball! Here’s your chance to find out more about the crabby old lady that Georgie sees as a kind of taciturn genie.

  Join my Marg’s Updates list to find out about new books in the series, other great reads, new books in the pipeline… and to receive your complimentary copy of Rosa’s story in “Fortune’s Wheel”.

  http://georgiebgoode.com/margs-updates/

  1

  The Adventure Begins

  Georgie sent a sidelong look at Scott, took a deep breath and stepped inside their new trailer.

  Wow. The next step in her life. She still couldn’t believe she was doing it.

  “There’s so much room,” she said, staring around. After spending most of her time in the past year selling tiny retro trailers—and living in one of them, too—she was going to have to get used to this.

  Sure, she’d seen some mighty big motorhomes and trailers back at her father’s Johnny B. Goode RV Empire in Indiana, but she’d never spent much time in any of them.

  Caravan, she reminded herself. Here in Australia, everyone called them caravans, not trailers.

  “Something completely different for both of us,” Scott said. “Not your gypsy caravan. Not my truck camper.” He pressed the button to activate the slide-out. “Not too big, but big enough for comfort. I reckon it’ll do.”

  The section containing the east-west bed slid quietly outward, leaving plenty of room to walk through to the bathroom.

  Georgie ran her hand over the edge of the mattress on the way past. In the gypsy trailer, her bed had been at the back, with a tiny bathroom next to it. She’d had everything she needed, but you had to be inventive with storage solutions.

  Not with this new home on wheels.

  “Yes.” She turned and smiled at Scott. “It’ll more than do.” She slipped an arm around his waist. “I’m excited and nervous all at the same time.”

  She thought about the big wide-open spaces of Australia; red dirt and crocodiles and strange shrieking birds and spiders. All so different.

  Scott planted a kiss on her forehead. “Didn’t take much for me to talk you into it.”

  Georgie made a face at him. “‘You suckered me into it, a bit at a time. Come to Australia for a visit, you said. Just a couple of months, you said. Now we’re hitting the road for a year?”

  “Admit it. As soon we talked about visiting some of my favorite spots, it was game over. The Kimberley, Kakadu, Kings’ Canyon…that Margaret River winery I’ve been promising to take you to.” Scott was always quiet, but it was easy to detect the satisfaction and anticipation in his voice. “You’ll love it — and we were lucky. I thought it’d take a lot longer to find the right setup.”

  A voice at the door broke in. “Things always fall into place when something’s meant to be. Your uncle Craig has been talking about selling that LandCruiser for months.” Scott’s mother, Louise, stepped inside and glanced around, nodding in approval. “And it’s because you were already looking that you were ready to snap this caravan up the minute it was listed. You did well. It’s perfect.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Georgie agreed.

  Louise opened cupboards, checked out the cooktop, and bounced on the seat cushions. “So comfortable! I’ve never managed to talk Tony into heading off in a caravan. I tried, but…” She looked wistful. “Too many years on the road driving trucks, he says.”

  “An annex came with this,” Scott reminded her. “Plenty of room for you if you visit. You should join us for part of the trip—fly out to join us, somewhere nice. On the west coast, maybe, and visit Bluey while you’re there.”

  Louise’s eyes lit up. “Now that’s an idea. Just for a few weeks, perhaps? I don’t want to be a third wheel. I know you kids want to explore the country without dragging an old lady along.”

  That made Georgie laugh. “Old lady? Sure.” Someone less like an old lady, she couldn’t imagine. Now in her mid-fifties, Louise Mowbray might have salt-and-pepper hair and a wrinkle or two, but she brimmed with energy and enthusiasm, and her blue eyes constantly telegraphed mischief. �
�We’d love to have you join us.”

  “It’ll take you months to make your way to the west coast. Ask me again then. Meanwhile, I’ll get my fix of the RV lifestyle right here, from all the travelers who tell me their stories.” Louise glanced out of the window at the pretty little private campground she’d set up on the Mowbray property, just south of Canungra, and at the four RVs set up there. “This was one of my better ideas.”

  Scott shook his head at her. “Still can’t believe you set this up without telling me.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought of it if I hadn’t heard all your stories about campgrounds in the USA. Nearly killed me, keeping it as a surprise for when you got here.” Louise grinned at Georgie. “Your grandmother knew, of course.”

  “Yes, she told me.” Georgie rolled her eyes, remembering her recent conversation with Great Grandma Rosa. “She dropped a hint at Christmas, said we’d see when we got here. But she said something about Australia maybe not being as quiet as I expected. I didn’t know she meant the campground.”

  “Mm.” Louise gave a nonchalant nod, and looked out of the window so she didn’t have to meet Georgie’s eye.

  Georgie and Scott exchanged looks.

  Scott folded his arms. “Mum? What are you up to?”

  “Up to?” Louise frowned at him. “What do you mean, up to?”

  “Now that,” he said, pointing at her, “is a dead giveaway. Whenever you put on that fake puzzled frown, and answer a question with a question, you’re up to something. It’s been that way my whole life.”

  Louise changed her expression to one of innocent surprise, morphing into disbelief. “Me?”

  “You can’t act,” Scott said, “so don’t try. What gives?”

  Fascinated, Georgie’s eyes moved from one to the other. Louise was covering up something. Even after knowing his mother only a few weeks, she could tell.

  “Louise,” she said, “Scott’s right. You are a terrible actress.”

  “Huh. Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? You open your home to guests, and right away, one of them accuses you of lying.” Louise pressed her lips together firmly to combat a grin, but lost the battle. Her eyes gleamed up at them.

  Georgie exchanged another look with Scott, and then folded her arms too. Both of them looked at his mother and waited.

  “Well…” Louise said, dragging the word out. “There might be…something.”

  Scott just arched an eyebrow.

  “Don’t worry.” Louise flapped a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing you’ll have to delay your trip for. Just, maybe, you could help me figure out what’s up. If anything is. Since you happened to bring your crystal ball with you.”

  Georgie slid into the seat opposite her and moved along the cushion so Scott could sit beside her. She fixed her gaze on Louise. “Is this related to something you saw in the cards?”

  “Kind of. You know how it is, a combination of gut feeling and the cards.” She shot a look at her son. “You know how it is, too, Scotty.”

  The only one of her four children who had inherited her intuition and liking for reading the cards, he nodded. “I do. So what is it? Something to do with the family? A friend?”

  “A new friend, I guess you could say.” Louise turned her head to look through the window at the back of the U-shaped lounge and nodded towards the small motorhome near the gate that led into the camping area. “See Shirley over there?”

  “Your caretaker, Shirley?” Scott’s gaze followed hers, and while they watched, a fine-boned woman who looked about sixty came out of the motorhome and sat in a camp chair in the shade offered by the awning. She propped her feet up on a campstool and opened a magazine.

  “Yes,” Louise said. “My caretaker Shirley.”

  Georgie knew the basics of the Shirley story: she had arrived to camp at the Mowbray place for one night but stayed for two weeks, and then had volunteered to take phone calls and camp fees while her hosts visited their daughters at Yamba for a few days.

  After that, she had just kind of stayed on as unofficial caretaker.

  “What’s up with Shirley?” Georgie asked.

  “That’s just it, I don’t know.” This time, the furrow on Louise’s brow looked genuine. “I’m sensing she has something worrying her at times when I talk to her, but she hasn’t confided anything. And now, I’m getting some ominous cards when I do a spread on her.”

  “And you think I might see something in the crystal ball?” Georgie’s eyes were still on the woman near the gate, who right now looked completely at ease, leafing through her magazine.

  Louise shrugged. “It’s worth a try. After all, she is kind of helping us out, although we don’t really need her as caretaker while we’re here.”

  “So you’re helping her out too,” Scott said. “Or is she paying fees again now?”

  “No, I told her not to. Well, it’s not as though she takes up much space, is it? And she’s really good with the campers who stay here, answering their questions, suggesting places to visit.”

  Thinking about what Louise had said, Georgie felt a tiny thrill of anticipation. When she had flown out of the States in January, she had looked forward to a quiet vacation and a break from people with problems in their lives—people who seemed to be able to find her wherever she was.

  Now, she felt that odd tug again.

  Shirley. A woman on her own, finding a home in a field on an isolated property. Someone who needed the help she could give…right at the beginning of Georgie’s Australian adventure.

  She smiled at Louise. “Let’s see what we can find out.”

  2

  On the Trail

  “You’re dead to her, Chook.”

  Chook could still hear Emma’s scornful words ringing in his ears as he barreled down the highway, smarting at the contempt in her eyes and the hatred in her voice.

  He wished now that he’d not even tried the friendly approach. His cheeks were hurting at the effort to smile, and she’d seen through it anyway.

  Didn’t matter. Her kid had given him a lead; something that he, Chook, should be able to figure out, if the little brat wasn’t making up some fanciful story. He would find out where Shirley Cooper was, her in her flash new motorhome. Bought with what should have been his money. She thought she was smart, selling up and leaving town, not telling anyone where she was going, but he was smarter.

  Emma hadn’t figured on her daughter spilling the beans.

  When he had pulled up outside their house, the shriek of the hinges on the driver’s door had brought the kid running from around back of the house, hitching herself up on the gate to see who was there. She looked like Emma had when she was a kid, a skinny little blonde thing with hair caught up in two bunches above her ears.

  What was she—six, now? Seven? He’d lost track, and who cared, anyway.

  “Hello,” he’d said ingratiatingly, walking up to the gate and grinning at the kid.

  She didn’t grin back. Just as unfriendly as her mother.

  He searched his memory for the name. They’d called her after some flower. A J-name…

  “I know who you are,” he said, going for a jokey vibe. “You’re Jasmine. Like the flower.”

  “Jas,” she corrected him. “I’m Jas.”

  “Hi Jas. I’m Chook.”

  She cast him a suspicious look, her head on one side. “That’s not a name. That’s a chicken.”

  He widened his eyes and made clucking noises, and that made her laugh.

  “You’re silly.”

  “That’s what your grandma used to say,” he said. “Your Grandma Shirley.”

  Now she was interested. “How do you know my grandma?”

  “We’re good friends,” he said, with a wary look at the front door. So far so good; Emma wasn’t coming out to see what this stranger was doing talking to her daughter.

  It would serve her right if he yanked young Jasmine off the gate, bundled her into the back of the van and took off with her. He could use her as leverage
.

  “My grandma is a long way away,” said Jasmine conversationally, hooking her elbows more tightly over the gate as her sneakers lost purchase on the wire. “She can’t visit now. She’s driving all around Australia.”

  “That’s right,” Chook said, nodding as though he knew all about it. “I’ve lost your grandma’s phone number, Jas, so I came to see if your mum has it. So I can ring Grandma up and have a nice long chat.” He manufactured another smile. “Do you talk to your grandma?”

  “Yes.” She nodded furiously, sending her hair bobbing.

  “Do you know where she is now?”

  “Yes,” she said. “She’s on a mountain.”

  “On a mountain,” he said. “You know, I think I remember her saying she wanted to visit a mountain. Do you remember which one she’s visiting?”

  Jasmine’s face screwed up in effort and she scrunched her eyes tight shut. “Yes…um…I did know.”

  “Mount Kosciusko?”

  She laughed, a tinkle of merriment. “No, silly! I don’t know Mount Kos-Kos…Kosko.”

  “The Blue Mountains?”

  “No.” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “I forget.”

  Any minute now, her mother would come to see what she was doing. “Mount Victoria? Mount Panorama?” he prompted. “Does it sound like any of those?”

  She frowned at him. “No. It sounds like music.”

  Like music? This was ridiculous. He’d just have to go up to the door, see if he could get it out of Emma. Wheedle it out of her, threaten it out of her.

  He tried one more time. “What kind of music?”

  “Like bells,” she said.

  A mountain that sounded like bells. Bell Mountain? He could Google it, see if there was a place called Bell Mountain somewhere.

  “You know what, Jasmine?” he said. “I think we’ll go and see if your mum remembers the name of the mountain.”

  “It’s not Jasmine, it’s Jas.” She jumped down from the gate and stood back to let him come through.