Good Intentions Page 4

  “Not only did Rosa’s daughter not show any signs of having the gift,” Georgie said, “but Rosa’s own mother couldn’t do it, either. She used to fake it when she told fortunes in different towns.”

  Shirley thought about that for a moment. “It’s like it skips a generation, almost.”

  “It does seem that way.” As she spoke, Georgie glanced back at the crystal ball, and her heart jumped.

  Mist, just a few wisps of it, was beginning to form in the depths of the crystal ball.

  “Shirley.” She spoke softly, not wanting to spook the other woman. “Look.”

  Shirley followed her gaze and Georgie heard the tiniest gasp.

  “It seems the crystal ball has something to tell me,” Georgie said. “What do you think? Want to find out what it is?”

  6

  Mystery

  For a moment Shirley froze, staring at the tendrils of mist slowly curling around in the depths of the crystal ball. Georgie could see the apprehension in her eyes.

  “Shirley?” Her hand was still resting on the crystal ball, as was Shirley’s forefinger. Georgie slid her fingers down to touch Shirley’s. “It’s okay. This happens all the time. See what’s happening here? My hand was on the crystal ball, and you were touching it too, just with the tip of your finger.”

  Shirley snatched her finger back as though it was being burnt. “What –? I don’t…” Words failing her, she linked to hands together tightly in front of her.

  Meanwhile, Georgie could feel her awareness growing, and an image was slowly forming in her mind. Nothing in the crystal ball, which in this case could be a blessing. From Shirley’s initial reaction, she’d probably go bolting out of the door if she saw a face materialize in the mist.

  “How about this,” Georgie said softly, keeping her voice low and soothing. “I tell you what I’m picking up, and if anything makes you uncomfortable you just tell me to stop. Does that sound okay?”

  Shirley said nothing for a moment, but then, with a brief apprehensive flick of her eyes up to meet Georgie’s, she gave a quick nod. Immediately, her lips firmed and her interlaced fingers grew whiter with the intensity of her grip.

  Interesting reaction, thought Georgie. She was used to people being skeptical, and Shirley had freely admitted that she wasn’t a believer in this kind of thing, but the reaction she was seeing was odd. Almost as though she was afraid of what Georgie was going to see.

  She let herself relax, opening up her awareness to whatever might be coming through. It was easier if she closed her eyes, but if she did that, she would miss any reactions from Shirley.

  The image in her mind gradually took form. It was a little girl, a fragile little mite with flyaway blonde hair. She had pulled herself up on a gate in front of a small suburban house, and was chattering away to somebody. Georgie couldn’t see who it was; it was almost as though the child was talking directly to her.

  No words. Mentally, Georgie gave a sigh. This fortune-telling business had its frustrations.

  Abruptly the child stopped talking and jumped down off the gate, stepping back to allow whomever it was to come through. She skipped away and did some kind of funny little dance, waving and shaking her hands in the air. Then the front door of the house opened, and a woman emerged. Her mother, Georgie was guessing – there was the same fine bone structure, the same light blonde hair.

  There the resemblance stopped. The little girl had been happy; the mother was immediately furious…and afraid? Georgie wasn’t sure, but she thought there might have been a hint of fear there.

  The woman pointed into the house and the little girl disappeared. The woman said a few more words, and then she retreated too, slamming the door behind her.

  The image faded but the emotion that went along with it didn’t. Georgie felt fear, anger…and a sense of threat.

  “Georgie…?”

  Georgie snapped back again, and realize that she had closed her eyes after all, focusing on the people she had seen. “Sorry, Shirley. I was just – the people I could see in my mind were quite clear. There was a little girl, about five? Maybe six, seven? A fine little thing, like a fairy.”

  Opposite her, Shirley folded her arms. Her face was a little paler. “A little girl.”

  “Yes. She was climbing on a gate, outside a house. Then her mother – I think it was her mother, because she looked a lot like her. Her mother came out, and ordered her inside. Then she went inside the house too, and shut the door.”

  Surely stared at her. “Did you – were you able to get any names?”

  “Not this time.” Georgie shook her head ruefully. “It’s like I told you, I never know how the information is going to come. So, did that mean anything to you? Or am I totally off target?”

  Shirley swallowed. To Georgie, it looked as though even that caused her trouble, as though there was something too big and hurtful to get down. “No. No, you weren’t. It sounds like my daughter, and granddaughter.” She reached for her glass and convulsively drank what was left of the soda, before handing the glass to Georgie. “Do you mind –?”

  “Good idea.” Georgie got up and poured another drink for each of them, thinking furiously about where to go from here.

  She set the glass down in front of Shirley and said, “You know, sometimes it helps if you ask me a question. Or you don’t even have to ask me. If you just hold a question in your mind, then that should work.”

  Shirley sipped her soda slowly while she considered that idea, and then abruptly set the glass down and nodded. “Right. All right. Maybe we could try that.”

  Shirley was close, so close, to telling Georgie the whole story, but an innate wariness held her back. She had spent so long not confiding in any one, guarding her secrets, terrified that she would lose everything…even end up in prison.

  While Georgie had been focusing on the crystal ball in front of her, with that strange, scary mist swirling around inside it, Shirley had taken the opportunity to study her face. It was a good, strong face, with a determined jaw and high cheekbones. Dark lashes swept her cheeks as she concentrated on the crystal ball, masking those deep brown eyes that seemed to be able to look into the depths of your soul. Yet the day before, when they had all sat and chatted and laughed on the veranda for hours, Shirley had seen those eyes alight with humor —and warm with affection as she looked at Scott.

  While Shirley watched her, and teetered on the edge of taking her into her confidence, Georgie raised a hand absently to tuck a wayward tendril of lustrous dark hair behind her ear, and bit her lip in concentration, a tiny frown creasing her forehead.

  Shirley was sure that Georgie meant well; that she was a good person. But that might also be a problem. Would someone with a strong sense of ethics sit in judgment on her?

  Meanwhile, Georgie was really trying to get some answers for her. And she wasn’t helping her at all.

  Think of a question, Georgie had said. What question could she ask, that wouldn’t give her away?

  She closed her eyes. How long will I stay here? And where will I go next?

  “I’m not getting anything much yet,” came Georgie’s voice almost at the same time. “Just relax. We can try it again tomorrow if we get nothing here.” Then her voice altered, the pitch rising slightly. “Oh! Wait…”

  Then Georgie laughed, but it had a slightly embarrassed note. “You know what I’m seeing? Your motorhome, down near the creek - with that sign on it that we talked about. CARETAKER.”

  Shirley’s eyes flew open again. “Really?”

  “Yes. It looks like our conversation about it might be uppermost in your mind. Do you want to try a different question?”

  “Well, no. You might have answered it…kind of. I was wondering how long I’d be staying here.”

  Georgie looked pleased. “Really? Well, I guess that is some kind of answer. Sounds like you’re going to be here long enough to move your motorhome, create a new sign.” Then she frowned again. “Wait a minute. There’s something else. Well,
that’s odd.”

  “What?”

  It took Georgie a moment to answer, but then she raised her eyes and the crease on her forehead hadn’t gone away. “I’m just sensing this, Shirley: I can’t actually see any images. I know that sounds weird. I can feel you flying out of that gate as though you can’t get out of here fast enough.” She gave an unconvincing grin. “You weren’t a rally driver in your last life, were you?”

  Shirley felt the tension in her give way to a horrible, deep fear that threatened to stop the blood running in her veins.

  There was only one thing that would make her run away that fast.

  Chook.

  She already knew after Emma phoned that he was looking for her. And what Georgie had seen…that had to be Chook, trying to get out of her granddaughter where she was. Then Emma, slamming the door in his face.

  After hearing Georgie’s words, she was petrified.

  What was she going to do? Was she going to have to run from him forever?

  “Shirley?” Georgie’s hand closed over her arm, her dark eyes full of concern. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I’m just…you know; I think I’m feeling the heat a bit today. I might go back to the motorhome, lie down for a while.” Shirley stood up and picked up the bushfire evacuation information sheets. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  She hurried away, all too aware that Georgie was concerned.

  She should leave, she thought. Right now, before he found her.

  7

  Scott

  Scott wiped his hands on a rag and stood back to look at their handiwork. One set of solar panels, operational again. “That should do the job.”

  His father nodded and bent to pull another couple of cans from the portable fridge, currently being tested on the generator chugging quietly away in the background. “Reckon it will. With extra batteries, solar, generator—you and Georgie should be all set.”

  They both leaned against the tailgate of the LandCruiser and looked down the hill towards the creek, where they could see the new Jabiru Outback and three other RVs, including Shirley’s neat little motorhome.

  “How’s the campground working out?” Scott asked.

  “Good. We haven’t really promoted it yet, your mother wanted to see how it went first. We’re getting mainly word-of-mouth traffic.” His father turned to look at him, the laughter lines at the corner of his eyes deepening as he gave a wry smile. “This is all down to you, you know. Tearing around all over the USA with Georgie, having adventures. Your mum set this up and now she talks to everyone passing through, soaks it all up for when it’s our turn.”

  Scott looked at him quizzically. “What happened to ‘I spent enough years on the road behind held up by caravans, I’m not going to join them’?”

  “Ah, well.” His father set the can on the tailgate, folded his arms and cocked his head on one side, looking at Scott’s new caravan. “Things change. Louise has her heart set on it, so I’m guessing we’ll have to give it a go. Especially now that you two are doing it.”

  They stood there companionably for a few more moments, saying nothing, and Scott thought about how strange life was. He and his father were very much alike. Both quiet, both methodical. They liked tinkering with things, making things work. Fixing things.

  And they had both been attracted to women who liked to fix things, too, but in a different way. His mum with her astrology and her cards; her kindness mixed with down-to-earth practicality. Georgie with her crystal ball and her willingness to help when she found someone who needed it.

  “Who would have thought,” his father said, his mind obviously on the same track. “You taking up with someone who does the same kind of thing as your mother.”

  “Not exactly,” Scott said, “but close enough.”

  “Close enough so she predicted the two of you meeting up. She’s pretty smug about that one.”

  “Almost as if she’d engineered it.”

  “Couldn’t have done better. She’s a keeper, your Georgie.”

  Surprised, Scott turned to look at him. His father wasn’t one to share his feelings much. “I think so. Nice to hear you say it, though.”

  His father just nodded, still looking down at the campground, and then his eyes narrowed. “Look at that, Shirley taking off like a shot out of a gun. What’s spooked her?”

  Scott followed his gaze, to see Shirley walking rapidly back to her motorhome, clutching a handful of papers. As they watched, she lifted one hand to her forehead, as though in pain. Then she went inside, slamming the door behind her.

  “I’m guessing the reading didn’t go well,” Scott observed. “Or else she heard something that upset her.”

  A moment later, Georgie appeared. She looked over at Shirley’s motorhome before glancing up at the house. Her eyes moved to where they stood watching, next to the garage, and she waved before heading in their direction.

  “Looks like we’re going to find out.”

  They said nothing more until Georgie reached them, watching her come up the hill. She had adapted her wardrobe slightly to her new lifestyle, sticking to the gypsy-inspired BoHo outfits that were her signature, but adding a lot of lightweight cotton. Today she was wearing a floaty kind of top and shorts, in deference to the heat. Her hair was in a long braid that hung over one shoulder, with a few flyaway tendrils around her face. She had a woven bag slung over one shoulder, and he guessed from the bulge in it that she had her crystal ball with her.

  Probably going in to see his mum, then.

  “Hi,” she greeted them. She nodded at the solar panels. “Did you get them working?”

  “Georgie.” Scott injected that one word with a kind of weighty tolerance. “This is us you’re talking to. The Mowbray men. Of course we got them working.”

  “Silly me.” She spotted the portable fridge and lifted the lid, grunting with satisfaction when she saw half a dozen cans of soft drink inside. “Good. Can’t get enough liquid today.” She pulled out a can and popped the tab, drinking thirstily.

  “Not much more to do now,” Scott told her. “Car’s running like a dream, fridge is sorted, solar panels good to go. All that remains is for those who are dragging the chain to finish their jobs.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully in the direction of the caravan.

  “That’s enough sass out of you,” Georgie said, elbowing him. “Some of us haven’t yet sorted our clothes. Some of us haven’t yet decided where to stow our tools. And it ain’t me.”

  “We saw Shirley go back to her place,” Scott said. “From here looked like she was doing a runner. Everything okay?”

  The teasing glint left Georgie’s eyes. “I can tell she’s scared, but she’s not prepared to confide in me yet. I didn’t see much – she was closed up pretty tight – but I did see her granddaughter. And her daughter. It looked to me like her daughter was upset, yelling at someone.”

  “Yelling at her? Shirley? Or someone else?”

  “Oh.” Georgie blinked. “I hadn’t thought that her daughter might be yelling at her. But no, that’s not the feeling I got.”

  “What did she say about that?”

  “Very little.” Georgie sighed in frustration. “I can’t force her to tell me. The other thing was, I had this feeling that she was about to take off. The way she is now, I wouldn’t be surprised to wake up in the morning and find her gone.”

  “Well, now.” Scott’s father stroked his chin, considering. “That wouldn’t be good. Not if we can help her somehow. Think she’d talk to Louise?”

  Georgie thought it through, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Finally she said, “She might. She likes Louise, and she did ask how long I thought she might be able to stay here.” After another few seconds frowning into the distance, she said, “I think I’ll go up to the house. Tell Louise what happened, get her to do a reading while I’m there.” She patted the bulge in her shoulder bag. “If we could go to Shirley with something – maybe it’ll shake something loose.”

  Scott g
rinned at her. Georgie the gypsy fortune-teller was back. He hadn’t thought it would be long. It was her heritage; part of who she was. She might have said she wanted a break from it all, but he knew Georgie.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “What? What’s funny?”

  “I was just thinking,” he said, “About how you said you just wanted to kick back and relax, forget about reading crystal balls and helping solve mysteries. Just do nothing for a while. Think you might have spoken too soon?”

  Georgie thought about the fear in Shirley’s eyes, and then about Louise’s concern for her daughters.

  She was an eighth generation Gypsy with the Sight. She wasn’t going to outrun that, no matter how far she traveled.

  “Let’s see if we can get this sorted,” she said, “and then see about relaxing. And don’t you say a single thing about “famous last words”.”

  “Didn’t enter my head.”

  “I’m sure. Now you go and organize your clothes and pack your tools while I go into a huddle with Louise – before Shirley disappears on us.”

  8

  Rolling Along

  Chook didn’t see any point in hanging around Melbourne. Now he had an idea of where Shirley might be hiding, he figured that the sooner he got there the better, before she took off again.

  When he got back from the library, he loaded up his van with stuff he wanted to keep—which wasn’t much—and then broke in through his landlord’s back door to look for money or tools that he could sell in a pub somewhere. As an afterthought, he stole his supply of weed too.

  Goodbye, mate, he thought. Find someone else to rent your crummy garage. I’m outta here.

  He backed his van out of the driveway and didn’t look back.

  His phone rang an hour later, as he was motoring along the Hume Highway past Bradford. Before he even picked it up, he knew who it would be. Grant; ready to rip into him, demanding to know where his stash was.