Good Intentions Page 6

“Right. I suppose she is going to drop everything and deliver coffee wherever we are in Australia?”

  “OK, rule out Lissa. But there’s somebody else we can call on.” He looked at her quizzically.

  The penny dropped.

  “Oh. Of course.” She beamed at him. “Louise. We’re in the same time zone now, so I can give her a call at any time.”

  “There you go.”

  Well, Georgie thought. A DownUnder Crystal Ball Investigation Team. And goodness knows whom else they might meet on the big trek around Australia.

  “I like the sound of that,” she said with a decisive nod. “And speaking of investigations, it’s time to meet up with Louise now and see if she’s heard back from—Bluey.” She frowned. “It feels really strange to call him that. Do you ever call him Jeff?”

  “Sure. Mum calls him Jeffrey whenever she’s annoyed with him.” Scott took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “I know you miss everyone back home. If it all gets too much, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

  She gave him a quick hug. “I’m used to being away from home. This is just a bit further. Besides, I’m so excited about our big trip that I really can’t wait.”

  “Good to hear.” His voice was even and pleasant as always, but Georgie knew him well enough now to detect the faint note of relief. It would have been hard for him if she had been determined to go back home.

  Not going to happen, she thought. She was in it for the long haul— and she couldn’t be with a better person for that.

  10

  Being Crafty

  Louise and Tony were waiting for them with after-dinner drinks in the big, comfortable family room adjacent to the kitchen. It was probably Georgie’s favorite room in the whole house, with large soft sofas, roomy armchairs and bright cushions. A focal point was one of Louise’s art quilts, hanging on the wall opposite the windows. Louise had re-created the scenery outside, with rolling fields drawing the eye to Tamborine Mountain in the background and the clear blue Queensland sky. It was almost like a reflection.

  After working with fabric for her degree in Textiles and Design, Georgie could appreciate the amount of work that had gone into it—and the talent, putting together those colors, the different textures of fabric and cord and ribbon.

  “I love that quilt,” she said. “I know I’ve said it before, but it’s so beautiful. You’re really talented.”

  “Before you even arrived,” Louise said, “I looked at it and thought, Georgie will like this. Especially after seeing photos of the quilt you had on your bed in your gypsy caravan. All those gorgeous colors…you understand color. Did you make that one?”

  “No. I’ve made a couple of others, but not that one. I saw it in a little craft store in Maine, and I had to have it. It cost a fortune, but it was worth it.”

  Louise cleared her throat. “Er…do you have something in mind for your new caravan?”

  “I thought I might see something as we travel.” Something about Louise’s expression made her suspicious, and then a covert grin on Scott’s father’s face confirmed something was up. “Why?”

  “Oh, well. I just ran up a little something. Just for fun, as I followed where you and Scott traveled on the map. And your great-grandma told me more, about you and your friends. Wait a second.”

  Louise got up and left the room, and came back with a huge shopping bag slung over one wrist and a folded quilt in her arms. “Happy travels,” she said, leaning down to kiss Georgie on the cheek and depositing the quilt in her lap. “I made it lightweight, so it should suit most places. You can add a blanket if it’s cold, or store it under the bed in the tropics.”

  Louise had folded the quilt so the center square was showing. Immediately, Georgie saw that it was her beloved Vardo Gypsy caravan, recreated in textured fabric.

  “Oh, Louise.” Overcome, she felt tears come to her eyes. “I can’t believe it.” She unfolded the quilt, with Scott jumping up to help his mother to open it up. The center square was surrounded by others that showed her travels and her friends. Georgie’s gaze moved from one square to another.

  There was Tammy’s trailer, in red and white. Scott’s truck camper. Layla’s gorgeous little retro trailer in soft sorbet colors…and even Jerry’s monster motorhome. Every second square showed something of the American countryside.

  A lump came to her throat. Her friends and family, her country, in a quilt.

  She got up and hugged Louise fiercely. “Thank you. Thank you so much. What a fantastic gift. I’ll treasure it forever.”

  Delighted at Georgie’s reaction, Louise beamed. Scott tousled his mother’s hair affectionately and gave her his slow grin. “But there’s more, isn’t there, mum?”

  “More?” Georgie shook her head. “How could there be? This must have taken hours and hours on its own.”

  “It was a rush to get it finished,” Louise admitted. “I finished sewing it up last week. It was a challenge to keep it a secret, with you and Scott in and out all the time—but I didn’t want you to see it until it was done. Anyway…” she passed over the shopping bag. “You don’t have to do this, but I thought you might want something to keep you occupied in quiet times.”

  Georgie set the bag at her feet and peered in. Inside it was a large, square box wrapped in bright paper and a bulging white paper bag.

  She opened the paper bag first. It proved to be full of fat quarters of quilting fabric in the same colors as the quilt Louise had hung on the wall, along with an imaginative collection of braid, ribbon and cord.

  Georgie looked up, laughing. “Fabric. For my own quilt.”

  “That’s just a starter pack,” Louise told her. “Tamborine Mountain colors. I thought that as you travel, you could look for fabrics and tones that suit the countryside. Work with one square at a time…it would be a nice memento of your trip.”

  “And yet there’s more…!” Georgie lifted out the box and tore off the wrapping paper. “A sewing machine.”

  Delighted, she opened the box and pulled out the machine, handing the polystyrene packaging to Scott. “A mini sewing machine. It’s gorgeous! And so lightweight!”

  “Perfect for travel,” Louise agreed. “It’s a good brand, so it’ll be reliable. It does everything a heavier machine can do.”

  “This is the best present ever. Something to remember America and our friends, and everything I need to create something new. I love it.” Georgie blinked furiously. “I’m not going to cry.”

  “Me either,” said Louise briskly, looking suspiciously bright-eyed herself. “Time for a drink. Let’s drink a toast to old friends, and the beginning of a new adventure.”

  Georgie folded the quilt and put her lovely new sewing machine aside, and accepted a glass of wine, smiling around at Scott’s family. Her new family, too, she thought, even though she and Scott weren’t officially engaged yet. Still, everyone knew it was going to happen.

  “Margaret River wine,” Scott said, pointing to the bottle as they all drank a toast. “You’ll be able to taste that wine right where the vines grow, one day.”

  As he spoke, Louise’s phone rang. “Ah,” she said, setting down her glass. “It’s Bluey. Let’s see if he’s been able to find out any more about Shirley.”

  She tapped the screen and held it to her ear. “Hello, darling! I’ve got you on speaker. Scott and Georgie are here.”

  “Hey, bro,” came the voice on the other end, so much like Scott’s that it gave Georgie tingles. “Hi, Georgie. You sick of that brother of mine yet? I could show you a good time over here in W.A. Just say the word.”

  “You wish,” Scott said.

  “Hi, Bluey,” Georgie said. “We’ll be visiting before you know it.”

  “Good. One look at me and you’ll know you chose the wrong brother.”

  “Behave yourself, Jeffrey,” Louise admonished him. “What did you find out?”

  “So much for the small talk,” Jeff said. “I always suspected you preferred your No. 1 son.”

  �
��You just keep thinking that,” Louise said. “How did you go? Find out anything?”

  “It wasn’t hard to track her down. Shirley Cooper, nee Willis. Married three times—you don’t have to take notes, by the way, I’ve sent you an email.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “First marriage: she was 18 years old. Married John Golightly, no kids. Second marriage at 24 to Douglas Turner, had a daughter with him when she was 28. Daughter’s name is Emma — she’s now 32, married to a guy named Ian Blake, and has a daughter called Jasmine, six going on seven. Emma is Shirley’s only child. Third marriage when she was in her late thirties, to Norman Cooper. He died a couple of years ago. Cancer, I think: the funeral notice requested donations to a cancer foundation in lieu of flowers.”

  Louise waited, and when he said nothing more, said, “That’s it? You didn’t find out anything else?”

  “That’s gratitude for you. If you tell me what I’m supposed to be looking for, I can probably find it. That’s her background: husbands, one child. Give me a clue and I can keep digging.”

  That made Georgie laugh, and Scott too, when he looked at her face.

  “What?” Louise asked, looking from one of them to the other. “What have I missed?”

  Scott leaned forward a bit, to where his mother held the phone in her outstretched hand. “Welcome to the Crystal Ball Investigation Team, bro. You want clues? We specialize in clues. I’ve just finished telling Georgie we need a whole new team DownUnder, and you’re the first recruit. Well, no, actually, you’re the second. We haven’t told mum yet, but she’s in it too.”

  “I am?” Louise looked delighted. “I am? How exciting!”

  Her husband leaned back in his seat, groaned, and rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

  “You’ll get used to it, Dad,” Scott told him. “They need us. A steadying influence. The voice of reason.”

  Georgie smacked him on the leg, just as his mother clouted him from the other side.

  “Hey,” he said with mock indignation. “It’s true. You flaky woo-woo types who can see into the future, you—”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish before he earned another smack. From both sides.

  “Ow! Blue, come home and rescue me, will you? My life was so sane before I went to the States and met this gypsy fortune-teller…”

  “Thanks for finding that, Bluey,” Louise interrupted. “If I want anything else, I’ll email. Or if it’s urgent, I’ll phone.”

  “Or text,” Bluey suggested. “In case I’m in a meeting.”

  “Hah,” his mother said. “I have yet to believe in these meetings. I have a strong sense that you are more hacker than a white collar Internet security guy. But I won’t tell anybody.”

  “Innocent,” said Bluey. “I am as innocent as the day is long. See you, guys.”

  Amidst a chorus of ‘see you’s’ he rang off.

  “That’s good,” Louise said. “Now we know a bit more. She’s been married three times, she’s got a daughter, and a granddaughter. But we knew that anyway. Well, we knew about the daughter: we didn’t know about the three marriages.”

  “But it’s a starting point,” Georgie said thoughtfully. “I’m going to do another reading tonight and plug in what Blue’s been able to tell us.”

  Scott grinned at her, then at his mother, and finally at Tony, who was shaking his head. “And here we go. Hold on for the ride.”

  11

  Pursuit

  Chook made good time. After leaving Melbourne at just before five on Saturday afternoon, he stopped for coffee at Albury Wodonga on the border between Victoria and New South Wales at eight, and then covered a further 350 or so kilometers to reach the truck stop at Goulburn a little after midnight.

  He refueled the van and shoveled down a burger and fries before finding a dark corner of the parking lot to catch a few hours’ sleep. At first he tried climbing into the back of the van, making a nest on the piles of clothes he’d thrown in there, but there wasn’t enough room and boxes of his stuff along the side kept sticking into him. After an uncomfortable half hour, he cursed, got back into the cabin and reclined the passenger seat instead.

  At three in the morning, not feeling at all refreshed from his restless doze, he was on the road again, rolling through the night with mostly trucks for company. That got him through Sydney well before six, with no traffic to speak of. At Wyong he filled the tank again, ordered a big breakfast, and after consulting his GPS decided his next stop would be Coffs Harbour.

  Specifically, a shopping mall at Coffs Harbour. He was getting low on cash.

  Chook was used to working at weekends. Sunday morning at a busy mall was a prime opportunity to nick a handbag or a wallet. People were incredibly stupid, leaving handbags balanced on top of bags in overflowing shopping carts or at their feet while they waited for a bus.

  His father had worked weekends and every other day of the week. He spouted cheesy sayings all the time, like “If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well” and “What goes around, comes around” as he went to fix some problem for a senior citizen who could barely afford to pay him enough to buy a hamburger. He was convinced that if you did the right thing by your customers, you’d reap the rewards.

  He believed that all the way up until he died, before he ever got to enjoy retirement.

  “Build equity, son,” was another part of his father’s advice. “Save hard, pay off your house, build equity and you’ll never be short of a dollar.”

  Chook preferred his own method of amassing cash, which was much faster and gave excellent returns, as long as the cops didn’t catch up with him. He’d spend a few minutes scouting out a likely prospect, help himself to a wallet or a handbag, and his net worth immediately increased nicely. More often than not the handbag also yielded an address and a set of house keys, which allowed him to liberate more stuff he could pawn, which boosted his bank balance even more.

  At the mall, his first stop was the information desk, to find out the location of the local Visitor Center. Apparently it was just up the road, right on the highway. Perfect!

  With that taken care of, he perched on a seat near a cash machine, pretending to check messages on his phone.

  After fifteen minutes a woman with a whining toddler in tow withdrew a nice wad of cash from the ATM. She’d do, he decided. Women with children were more likely to be distracted while attending to the kid’s demands.

  Chook tracked her while she ambled along looking in store windows and then waited impatiently while the kid went on some ride with flashing lights. Now he was following them around the aisles in the supermarket, throwing stuff at random into his grocery cart.

  He flicked a glance at her handbag when she reached up for a box of cereal. She’d tucked it in next to the kid, but had left it unzipped when she extracted her phone to look at some list. He could just see the corner of her red wallet poking out.

  The kid was bored and his complaints were coming thick and fast while he tugged at his mother’s arm. “Phone! Game!”

  “No, Will. I need the phone for my list.” She frowned at him and held the phone out of his reach. “You can have it when we go for coffee.”

  “Want game!”

  “Soon. Just let mummy get a few more things.” She moved away from the loaded cart, searching for something on the shelf.

  Halfway down the next aisle, she stepped away from her cart again. The kid shut up for a few seconds while he strained to reach a brightly colored bag of sweets on a display rack.

  Perfect. A quick glance showed that nobody was close, so Chook pushed his cart past hers, dipped into her handbag with one smooth movement and closed his fingers around her wallet.

  A second later, it was in his pocket.

  He turned into the next aisle, abandoned his cart and headed for the exit.

  Outside, a quick peek showed he’d just made four hundred bucks. The credit card had PayPass, so he could use it to fill up the tank.

  That would keep him g
oing until he found Shirley.

  Now to find the Visitor Center, which was supposed to be just up the road. “You can’t miss it,” the woman had told him. “Just look for the Big Banana on your left, right on the highway.”

  The woman at the Visitor Center was gold. Pure gold. Not only did she give him a fistful of maps and pamphlets, she showed him how to download an app onto his phone that listed campgrounds and caravan parks all over Australia. It took him fifteen minutes of trial and error in the car park to figure it out, but after that…could anything be easier?

  All he had to do was type in “Tamborine Mountain” and there they were: a list of campgrounds and caravan parks. All with photos, comments, maps and GPS coordinates.

  Even his second-hand GPS should be able to cope with that. His tongue protruding in concentration, Chook keyed in the address of the main caravan park. That’s the type of place Shirley would pick. She was a plug-in type of woman; no roughing it for her. That new motorhome wouldn’t be able to cope with corrugated bush tracks.

  Chook consulted his watch and congratulated himself. He’d made damn good time, even though his eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and he needed a shower.

  According to his GPS, it would take him less than five hours to get to Tamborine Mountain. He should get there late afternoon, around six o’clock.

  He considered his next move. So far all his energy had been expended on getting to Queensland as fast as he could, and he hadn’t given much thought to what would happen after that. He figured the usual threats would probably bring Shirley to heel. He could throw in a reference to young Jasmine; imply that she was at risk, too, if Shirley didn’t pay up.

  Chook stared into space, thinking of his future. After this, Shirley would have outlived her usefulness as a source of funds. He wouldn’t need her any more…and practically speaking, he could do with not only her money, but her wheels too. With that nice new motorhome, he’d be set.

  He could start a new life, up in Queensland. Travel around Australia, even. Away from the cold weather, away from all the people who would be happy to see him behind bars.