Poppys choice, p.21
Poppy's Choice, page 21
“I have been.”
“Then it’s his problem.”
“What if he doesn’t believe me and keeps asking me out? Then it’s my problem bigtime.”
“You say no thank you firmly and politely.”
“And if that’s not enough?”
“You call the cops because he’s a stalker.”
“My God, Steph.” George was way more than a stalker but had that footprint in the garden belonged to him? Was he already stalking her? Peering through the windows to see what she was doing with Duncan? Frightening Jessie?
She pressed her hand against her mouth to stop a whimper of fear. No. That was impossible! That was a wild assumption. Based on half a footprint and a sleepy little girl’s claim.
Steph was still wittering on.
“It won’t come to that. We’re talking George here, remember? Now tell me all about Duncan Barnett. How come I didn’t know he was staying with you?”
The abrupt change of subject derailed the crazy line her thoughts had taken. “You do know.”
“Only because I heard it from Mel when she was doing my hair yesterday. She asked me and I had to pretend I knew but wouldn’t gossip about you. How embarrassing is that? My best friend doesn’t tell me she has a good-looking guy staying with her and not just overnight. Several nights.”
“How do you know he’s good-looking? You’ve never met him.”
“Robbie Benson was in the next chair, and she saw you both at school collecting Jessie. She said he’s drop dead gorgeous. Mind you her husband looks like Gollum on a bad day, so her judgment is skewed but you get the general drift.”
Poppy couldn’t help but laugh. Trust Steph to jerk things back into perspective. She was right. She should stick to honesty and say no thanks to George as she had before.
“Why do guys make it our problem when we don’t want to go out with them or don’t like them as much as they want us to? I don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s crush and making them feel bad if I turn them down.”
“Are we talking about George or Duncan?”
“George. It’s not fair.”
“No, but it applies to women too.”
“Guys don’t seem to care as much about hurting a girl’s feelings when they dump them.”
“That’s true. They just move on and expect us to do the same. You avoided my question, by the way.”
“What question?”
“Duncan Barnett. What’s going on there?”
Poppy hesitated. Steph would be livid when she found out that the truth about him hadn’t been shared but she couldn’t possibly tell her, not before Jessie.
“Pop? Come on. I tell you everything. I told you about my cat and Yuri and that one-night stand disaster with that newspaper bloke from Goulburn.”
“I know but there’s nothing to tell. He was very broken up when he got the news about Kyle, so I let him stay here.”
“Why didn’t he stay at the hotel or with George?”
“We get on well and Jessie likes him. He needed to be with someone. I was around when he got the news and George wasn’t.”
“Okay…so…is there more? There has to be.”
Poppy took a deep breath. “There might be if he lived here but he doesn’t.”
“Dammit. Why is there always some basic flaw?”
“Indeed.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her sympathy was genuine and warmed Poppy’s heart. “It’s hard enough to find a decent man you like without that as well. Is he coming back?”
“Not that I know of. Unless something happens in the murder case, but he’s not involved in the investigation so there’s no reason why they’d want him here.”
“Would you go to Sydney to see him?”
“Steph, that’s not going to happen, is it?”
“It could if you want it to.”
“He has some things to work through.”
“Like what? He’s not married, is he?”
Poppy gave a mirthless laugh. “Hardly. No, that’s one of the issues.”
“Aah. A commitmentphobe.”
“Not exactly. He feels he’s not worthy in some weird way. He and Kyle had a rotten family and they basically brought themselves up. He’s learned he can’t rely on anyone else and that he’s not a reliable person. But I think he is.”
“And now he’s all alone. That’s so sad.”
“Yes, and it’s hard to break through to him. He’d love to have a family, but he thinks he’d ruin it and he’s better off alone.”
“Poor man.”
“Yes. I’m not going to push him though. I’m hoping that he’ll start to miss us more than he thinks he will. I don’t want to be a George.”
“Oh God no. So, what are we doing about the date?”
“We’re waiting to see if he brings it up again. I’d only go in a group though.”
“Fine, let’s do it. I’d love to go that restaurant. I’ll bring Yuri.”
“Okay.”
Yuri was a very popular lecturer in soil enrichment and conservation techniques at the Ag College where Steph worked in Student Admin. A burly, enthusiastic man with a loud infectious laugh and lots of anecdotes which he told in a Slavic accent, he was good company and would save the evening from sinking into awkwardness. He and Steph had had a brief affair that she said was fun but neither expected more than that and now, fortunately, they were good mates. Just as well as they worked in the same place.
“Next weekend?” Steph asked.
“All right. Let’s get it over with.”
“I don’t know why you’re making such a big thing out of it,” she said.
Steph mightn’t but Poppy did.
****
Poppy didn’t see George over the weekend which was a vast relief because she kept expecting him to appear on the doorstep and press for an answer. After the stress of worrying about Duncan, Portia’s questions, George’s unnerving visit, and the consequent onslaught of all consuming fear, the uneventful weekend went a long way toward a return to normality. Events fell into perspective and by Sunday she’d decided her reaction had been overly dramatic, bordering on hysterical. She had nothing to fear from George, Portia had said as much, so she’d stick to her plan of friendly neighbors, but not too friendly. He must accept that he’d overstepped badly with that phone call, and roses with an apology weren’t going to cut it. Any coolness on her part would thus be natural.
Another relief was that Jessie had made a full recovery. She woke bright and cheerful on Saturday morning and crawled into Poppy’s bed.
“What will we do today?” she asked.
“If it’s not too windy and cold we could go for a bike ride.”
“And have a picnic?”
“Not a picnic, but how about we ride to the Happy Bites Café at the plant nursery out near the showground and have hot chocolate?”
“Yes, let’s.”
“And we can buy pansies for the front garden near the letterbox.”
“Can Maurice come? He can ride in my basket.”
“No. He wouldn’t like that. He’d jump out and run away.”
“And get lost.”
“Yes, or hurt himself. Come on, let’s get up and get going. We’ve slept in.”
Poppy sat up and put both feet on the floor, but Jessie didn’t move. “We should have a bike for Duncan when he comes to stay with us.”
“Would you like him to stay with us again?” Maybe the time of the big reveal was drawing nigh.
“Yes. I like him this much.” She held her arms out. “I like it when he sings songs with me.”
“He thinks you’re a good singer.”
“I am. Can I learn the guitar?”
“You might be a bit small.”
“I can ask Duncan.”
“All right.” Poppy smiled and dropped a kiss on her head. “Time to get up, lazy bones.”
She wasn’t the only one missing him but was he missing them? And if he was would he admit it?
The bike ride was fun and successful and after lunch they planted the pansies. George waved hello from his front garden but thankfully didn’t come over. Helen from the other side dropped in to tell Poppy she was heading north for her annual migration to warmer climes in a few days’ time.
“I’m like the birds,” she said to Jessie. “I fly north to avoid the winter cold.”
“Except you drive your car,” said Jessie.
“I do.” Helen laughed. “You’re a smart young poppet.”
“Drive safely,” said Poppy. “We’ll collect the mail and keep an eye on the house.”
“Thank you. And if you could water the pots on the veranda that would be lovely.”
Sunday meandered by in much the same way, the casual routine and Jessie’s usual chatter and questions restoring Poppy’s energy and equilibrium. She hadn’t heard from Duncan but didn’t expect to. He was back at work, slotting into his regular life the way they were. Except now there was a gap she hadn’t been aware of before and a month ago would have denied its existence. A gap only Duncan could fill.
Chapter 21
Rudy phoned Duncan with the results of his blood and urine tests.
“High concentrates of lorazepam which is a sedative,” he said. “Enough to knock you out but not kill you.”
“George,” said Duncan viciously. “The bastard wanted to kill me. Make me kill myself by crashing.” He would have slipped the drug into his drink when Duncan went to the toilet.
“Do not do anything about it, Duncan. Don’t confront him. We have this under control.”
“Do you? It doesn’t seem like it to me. I could be as dead as Kyle.”
“Promise me you won’t interfere in the investigation.”
Duncan gave a grudging agreement and hung up with fury writhing like a snake in his belly. George wasn’t getting away with this. He might be clever and think he’d got away with his crimes, but he hadn’t, and he was going to pay.
****
Without making it intentional Poppy managed to avoid seeing George until the following Friday. She wasn’t sure why that was because Jessie reported seeing him at school which meant he wasn’t away or ill, but for some reason their timing hadn’t coincided. Was he avoiding her? Whatever the reason it was a breathing space she welcomed.
Strong winds had buffeted Currong for most of the week bringing down a branch in the back garden and leaving another broken and hanging precariously just out of reach of Poppy’s saw. Unwilling to climb the ladder without someone to steady it in the soggy, uneven ground under the tree she thought of asking George but quickly discarded the idea. It wasn’t going to do much damage if it fell but it was annoying.
Helen had left on Tuesday, her car loaded up for the long drive, so Jessie diligently went next door all by herself to collect the letters when she came home from school. On Friday she was a little longer doing her job than normal, so Poppy went out to check even though she’d been watching through the office window as she finished her work for the day. Helen’s letter box was obscured by an evergreen shrub, but bits of Jessie’s hot pink puffer jacket were visible through the leaves.
She was talking to George. As Poppy went down the steps the pair came into view with Jessie saying, “It’s a very important job so I have to be very, very careful and put the letters straight into this bag.” She held up the cloth carry bag. “And then we put them in a special green bag so they don’t get lost and when there are enough Mummy goes to the Post Office and puts them all in a special Red Bag and sends them to Helen.”
“It is a very important job,” said George. “How many letters did you collect today?”
“Two. Helen doesn’t get lots of letters. Yesterday she didn’t get any.”
“Hi, Poppy.” George smiled at her. The smile she was used to, the kind, patient, interested one he used around the kids at school and with Jessie. If she hadn’t seen the other version and didn’t know what she knew, she would have slipped right back into the old, easy friendship. Now, she would do the superficial version, mainly for Jessie’s sake, but also to keep George onside.
She returned the smile. “We haven’t seen you much this week,” she said.
“No, we’re right into rehearsals for our part in the Currong Festival.”
“I’m singing in the choir,” said Jessie.
“Of course. How could I forget?”
The Currong Festival was an annual event at the beginning of spring when everyone joined in the weekend of activities. The primary school always did a Friday evening performance for the opening ceremony and Jessie had brought home a newsletter last term asking for parental help from those who could paint, sew costumes, or help in any way with the musical event the senior school was putting on.
“Being a musician, I’ve been roped into organizing all the music.”
“Gosh, no wonder you’ve been busy.” He didn’t seem annoyed by the extra work. Quite the opposite.
“We have extra choir practices at lunchtime on Wednesdays,” said Jessie. “I’m a good singer. Duncan said so.”
Poppy’s attention flicked quickly to George’s face, but he smiled at Jessie and she couldn’t read anything but his usual response to a child.
“He’s right. You are.”
He turned to Poppy. “Have you heard from him? Is he okay?”
“I expect so but no, I haven’t heard.”
He nodded. “Well, I’m looking forward to a night off tonight with a beer and the TV. See you later.” He raised his hand in farewell and sauntered away.
Poppy and Jessie went inside to deal with Helen’s mail.
He hadn’t mentioned the dinner date. Was he too busy and tired to think about going out? He’d certainly looked exhausted and wanted to stay home this evening. He might have forgotten or was he waiting for her to bring it up? She wasn’t going to. The more she thought about it the less she wanted to go out with him in a group or otherwise.
Steph had told her to get over herself and not over think it, but she was renowned for spontaneous actions almost immediately regretted. And she had no responsibilities in the form of dependents, apart from Peach the cat who wasn’t in a position to object, offer moral guidance, or guilt trips.
Poppy went around the house closing the curtains and making sure the doors were locked and the windows properly closed. Winter was creeping up slowly but surely and the nights were already cold. She’d turned the heating on much to Maurice’s delight having quickly discovered where the new warmest spots were.
Friday night was homemade pizza night which involved making the base dough, the tomato sauce, and choosing toppings. Poppy had just slipped the finished products in the oven when Duncan rang.
“Hi there,” she said. “How are you?” Nerves fluttered to life in her stomach, robbing her lungs of air, tightening her throat.
“Okay. Busy. I have a gig later tonight.” He sounded calm, casual.
She drew a deep breath, closed her eyes briefly. Focused.
“That’s good.”
“Yes it is. I wanted…I haven’t heard from you. Sorry. I don’t mean that you should have called me…”
“It’s okay. I’m…we’re not…” How did that sentence end?
“I should have called earlier. How are you? Any trouble with George?”
Worried about her, worried about Jessie. Protective despite his self-doubt.
She glanced toward the kitchen door. Jessie was in the living room choosing the video they were to watch with their pizzas. She lowered her voice just in case. “No. He’s been busy with school stuff, and I saw him this afternoon for the first time all week. I think he’s being cautious around me.”
“Have you seen anything of the detectives? Heard anything new?”
“No, Portia asked me some more questions. About Kyle’s ring and whether I actually saw him in the car when he left.”
“And did you?”
“No. The driver was on the far side from me. I assumed it was him from the car and the way it took off down the street.”
“Fair enough. What about the ring?”
“He had it on at the gig. I noticed it when George introduced me because it was so interesting.”
“I was with him when he bought it. He never took it off, but he wasn’t wearing it and they didn’t find it at the scene or in his car or his bag.”
“Maybe he left it at George’s.”
“Unlikely. He loved it. Did he have it on when you saw him that last time?”
“She asked that too, but I honestly can’t remember. There was so much going on. Ralph might know.”
“They’ll have asked him, and Sarah.”
“What does it mean? Is it important?”
“It’s a missing piece and Dietrich doesn’t like things like that. Same as the footprint in your garden. It could be connected, or it might not, but he can’t discard it until he knows.”
“Who are you talking to?” asked Jessie. “Are our pizzas ready?”
Poppy turned. Jessie stood in the doorway with indignant hands on hips.
“It’s Duncan.”
“I want to ask him about my guitar.” All eagerness now.
“Jessie wants to ask you something,” she said to Duncan. She handed over the phone and checked the pizzas—not ready yet—then got plates from the cupboard and green salad from the fridge.
Having asked her question, Jessie was listening intently and nodding. A big smile suddenly spread across her face, and she handed the phone back to Poppy.
“Duncan says I should learn to play a…” She frowned. “A ukeylayly because it’s small. Some of the big kids have them at school. Can I?”
“A ukeylayly?” she said to Duncan, smiling.
He laughed. “Ukuleles are ideal for kids. They’re small and light.”
“Okay, how do I get one? I know nothing about them.” The obvious solution was to ask George but that wasn’t appealing at the moment.
“I do. Let me give her one.”
“Are they expensive?” she asked. “She’s only five. Is she old enough to start?”
“I think so. She’s keen so why not encourage her? They can be expensive, but beginner ones are about forty dollars. They come in different colors, but I guess pink is the only choice.”
