“Have you got my mobile number?” Brandon asked.
“No.” She withdrew her phone and typed it in. “I’ll probably be a while. Lindsay will let me leave the trolley inside if you’re not back by the time I have to go to the bakery.”
“All right.”
They both got out and she stood back as he adjusted the driver’s seat. “The central locking button doesn’t work on the key, so you’ll need to lock it by hand.” Not that it needed locking in Retribution Bay. “And reverse is sometimes temperamental so you may have to pump the clutch a couple of times before it goes in.”
He smiled. “Got it. I won’t be long.”
Amy carried her grocery bags into the small independent supermarket, glancing at the community noticeboard by the entrance. No job vacancies. Hopefully she wouldn’t need a new job. “Morning, Lindsay.” The owner was behind the cash register as always.
“Amy. How are things out at the Ridge?” It was genuine concern rather than morbid curiosity on her face. Maybe news hadn’t spread that the car crash wasn’t an accident.
“They’re as good as can be expected,” Amy said. “You know the funeral is tomorrow?”
Lindsay nodded. “I’ve got one of my backpackers covering for me. Do you need me to bring out anything?”
“No.” She held up the list. “I’m buying what I need now.”
“Is there anyone else to help you carry everything?”
“Brandon will be back. He’s picking up a friend from the airport.” Before she could get stuck in a long conversation she said, “I’d better get to it before he returns.” She grabbed a trolley and hurried down the first narrow aisle.
Lindsay got caught serving a customer and Amy breathed a sigh of relief.
Checking her list, she strolled down the aisles adding what she needed. They had no idea how many people would turn up to the funeral so she erred on the side of caution and got plenty of everything. They could freeze what wasn’t used.
In the final aisle she almost bumped into Taylor. The ex-station hand’s clothes were a little grubby and he had that hadn’t washed in a few days look and smell about him, the fish tattoo on his lower arm kind of grimy. Typical. She’d taken to throwing his clothes in with hers when she washed to make life more pleasant at the dinner table. “Hi, Taylor.”
Taylor grinned at her and pulled her into a hug. “Ames, how’s it going? I was going to call you. Do you still have the photo you took of me with that Spanish mackerel? I must have deleted it and wanted to prove to a friend how big it was.” He glanced at her trolley. “Stocking up for something?”
She extricated herself, bemused by his rapid questions, but then the last question sunk in. Her mouth dropped open. “Haven’t you heard?” Surely someone had told him.
He frowned. “Heard what? I’ve been fishing for the past week, just got back into town.” He held up a filleting knife. “Lost my best knife so need a new one.”
Crap. “I’ve got bad news.” There was no way to say it gently. “Bill and Beth died in a car accident on Sunday morning.”
Taylor’s face blanched as his eyes widened. “Fuck. What happened?”
“The car rolled at Hangman’s Bend.”
His hand shook. “They were in the ute?”
“No, the four-wheel drive.” She gestured to her trolley. “Their funeral is tomorrow at nine at the Ridge. I’m buying supplies.”
He stared past her and then shook himself and blinked. “How are Darce and Georgie?”
“They’re coping.”
He nodded. “I’ll bet. Ah, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Nine o’clock, right?”
“Yes.”
He hurried out of the supermarket. Amy debated following him to make sure he was all right. Taylor had worked for Bill for over a year before he’d been fired, and they’d been friendly, though Bill had never approved of his gambling. She left her trolley and hurried to the entrance, but Taylor was gone. She texted him a message to call her if he needed to chat. Taylor had friends in town, but Amy wasn’t sure how close they were.
Then she returned to the trolley and finished her shopping. She’d tell Darcy Taylor was planning to be at the funeral, in case there were hard feelings between them.
She paid for the groceries, packing them into her insulated bags and then left the trolley inside the door and walked across the mall to the bakery. Ed had placed the order the day before to ensure there was enough bread for them. The large box waiting for her would be a real squeeze to get into her car. She checked the time. “I’ll be back to pick them up,” she told the server and headed outside.
