‘Thank you.’
‘And if you enjoy it, well, we are all here every second week for whatever you need.’
‘Thank you.’ Carol understood the unspoken offer to help her learn to knit or just to drive away the loneliness.
Deb waved Carol into the chair next to her and helped her open the beginner’s parcel of wool and needles.
Carol frowned as she looked it. ‘I don’t even know where to start.’
‘You start by casting on.’ Rose took the seat on the other side of her. ‘Let me show you how.’
At first, Carol struggled to understand how an incomprehensible series of movements could ever turn into a garment, even something as simple as a scarf. To be fair, though, that was partly because she was more focused on listening to the conversations around the table for any more mention of her sons. Specifically of Justin and Anna, and the suggestion they were dating. And a repeat of the comment about Ben’s drinking, which was worrying. But the discussions had moved on and she heard nothing and slowly, Deb’s and Rose’s words weaved their way into her mind. Before too long, there were loops on a needle and Carol was knitting. Inexpertly, but knitting all the same.
‘That’s very good for your first try,’ Deb said. ‘You didn’t learn as a child, did you?’
‘No. I can’t remember my mother ever knitting. She was always too busy.’ A bit like herself, if she was honest.
‘So, what do you think about it? Enjoying it?’
‘Actually, I really am.’ She looked down at her sun-browned and work-roughed hands. Her movements with the needles were becoming increasingly confident and the small amount of fabric she had produced looked fine. ‘I think it looks all right. Almost like shop bought.’
‘Hand knitted is far better than shop bought. May I see?’ Rose examined Carol’s efforts. ‘You’re a natural. You know, once you’ve got this far, there is no escaping. You’ll be knitting and coming to knitting meetings like this for the rest of your life.’
That didn’t sound at all bad to Carol.
‘So you think I could start something for real? I mean, this is nice—’ she nodded at the pile of green yarn on the table in front of her, ‘—but not quite my colour. It would be nice to be knitting something I really wanted to knit.’
Beside her, Deb chuckled. ‘You’re hooked, woman.’
‘Of course, let’s see what we have.’ Rose led Carol to another table where there were knitting kits on display. ‘These are all ready to go, if you like any of them. Or have a look around at the yarn on the shelves. It’s all marked with prices, so you know what you’re getting into. When you find something you like, I can help with what sort of pattern might work and how much yarn you’ll need.’
‘Thanks.’ Carol looked around the shop. There were all different colours and types of wool. There were pattern books filled with pictures of beautiful garments that she was sure were well out of her range of expertise—at least for now. She wanted something she could work on with purpose and enthusiasm. Her fingers moved idly over some rich, dark-chocolate wool. It was thick and soft and lovely to touch. But the colour was more for a man than for her.
Or for two men.
‘Rose, can you tell me how much of this I’d need for a scarf and what it would cost?’
CHAPTER
22
Justin took one last look around, testing the wind. Then he lit the torch he’d used to create a backburn. This time, he turned it on an old wooden shed leaning drunkenly against a small tree. The dry timber caught immediately, as he’d known it would. The flames caught the straw he’d packed inside and, in seconds, he felt a flare of heat against his skin. He stepped back.
‘Let’s go.’
Jake was leading this group of trainees. He held one of the two hoses and the other was in the hands of Bree’s husband, Matt. Both stepped forward.
‘Now!’ Jake called.
By the truck, one of the stockmen Justin had met earlier pulled the lever that sent water flowing into Jake’s hose. By his side, another trainee did the same for Matt’s.
Jake and Matt kept their hoses trained on the fire. The small wooden shed was fully engulfed with fire and flames were beginning to dance among the leaves of the tree.
‘Shane, you and a couple of the guys deal with that.’ Jake pointed to a river of fire in the grass, moving away from the training area towards a fence.
The publican lifted an arm in acknowledgement. He pointed to two young stockmen who had joined the group this morning. The three of them grabbed shovels and began dousing the small offshoot of the main blaze with dirt.
With a roar of flame and a crash, the shed collapsed in on itself. The fire flared anew, but the steady stream of water from the hoses was too much, and the fire subsided in a cloud of smoke and steam.
