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“Looks great. It’s coming along nicely.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” Molly murmured as she finished the delicate stroke of paint, curving her tiny brush along the edge of a petal. Molly rested the brush on her palette and turned to face her daughter. “Here to make some jewellery?”

“Yes, I am.”

Molly grinned, stood up and stretched out her legs. She yawned as she walked across the room to the large timber table. Bailey opened one eye, and content that Molly wasn’t leaving the room, fell back asleep. Strewn about the table were colourful beads, pins, clasps and other various tools.

“There’s more in the supply cupboards,” Molly called as she walked over to the mini fridge by the door. She took out a small bottle of juice and popped the top, while Hazel sat and perused the items. Her hand cupped the side of the table and felt the smooth, uneven texture of the wood. Hazel sat, reflecting on what Josie had told them earlier. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live that way, to be so afraid all the time. The heaviness of her friend’s situation dug deep in Hazel’s bones. She felt she could not get rid of the sad ache, like she was dragging an old anchor around. She wondered if this was what Josie felt like, but obviously a million times worse. Josie had told Hazel that Molly could know the basics.

“How was your afternoon with the girls?” Molly asked.

“Heavy, actually. I won’t go into too much detail, but basically Josie is on the run from her abusive ex.” Her delivery was a bit blunter than she had intended. Hazel looked up as she heard something clatter to the floor. Molly slowly bent down and picked up her paintbrush, inspecting the timber for any paint marks. She grabbed her cloth from the small table beside her easel and wiped away the red from the floor. Sitting back up on her stool, she finally spoke.

“What?” Bewilderment engulfed Molly’s face.

“Josie’s ex-boyfriend was abusing her, so she left him. She’s basically been on the run for about three years.”

“What?” Molly repeated, her face crumpling.

Hazel pursed her lips and waited for Molly to speak.

“She’s been on the run? Oh, that poor girl. Is there anything we can do for her? Anything she needs?”

“Serena and I are going with her tomorrow to make a statement at the police station. There probably isn’t anything they can do, but at least she’ll have made it official.”

“That’s a very good idea,” Molly said quietly.

Hazel looked out the window, settling into the silence. Both women continued to stare, Hazel at the landscape and Molly at her canvas. Lost in her thoughts, Molly eventually resumed painting. Noticing the box of colourful beads on the table, Hazel decided to make a pair of earrings, similar to the ones she had made at the jewellery class. On autopilot, she remembered the steps and selected a long head pin. She scanned the box of beads, trying to determine a colour palette. Finally deciding, she gathered beads of different shades and sizes, finding two in a striking peacock blue. Hazel picked more beads, laying them out until she eventually had enough to fill the length of the head pin. After she had stacked the beads on the pin, she grabbed a pair of pliers. Molly approached the table and watched as Hazel finished attaching the pin of beads to an earring hook. She made some final adjustments, ensuring the earring was secure. Hazel held the completed earring up to her mother’s ear. She nodded, smiled and repeated the steps to make the matching earring. Once she was finished, she handed them to her mother.

“I think these complement your colouring. Have them.”

Molly smiled. “They’re lovely. I’ll wear them to class next week.”

As Molly went back to her easel to continue painting the pansy, Hazel walked over to the row of cupboards that lined the wall. Each door was labelled, and Hazel found the jewellery cupboard on the far right. Rows of small containers were filled with earring hooks, chains of different lengths and sizes, beads, pearls, gemstones, clasps, wires and pins. Hazel stood, examining the contents of the cupboards before she began to carefully select the items she wanted.

The rest of the afternoon flew by as Hazel made a few more pairs of similar drop-style earrings and Molly finished her raspberry pansy piece.

As the sun set into the mountains, the studio was bathed in a golden glow. Hazel was finishing a necklace, a new skill she’d learnt after watching a few tutorials online. She’d made a choker of misshapen rose quartz gems.

“Oh, Hazel. That’s beautiful,” Molly exclaimed as Hazel held the choker up. The gems looked almost peach in the sunlight.

“I really liked Darleen’s necklace, and I thought I would do something a little different. Then I saw these rose quartz and I just couldn’t resist. I hope you weren’t saving them to use for something.”

“No, they’ve been sitting there for a while. I thought they were beautiful too and I bought them to make something, but I had no idea what. I think we know now.” Molly winked at Hazel. “You know the Bells Bay markets are on this weekend? Why don’t you make some more necklaces and earrings, and we can have a little stall on Saturday morning? The market attracts a lot of tourists.”

Hazel pondered for a moment. “I guess so. What’s the harm in it?”

“We’ll have to think of a name! How about after your gran, Rosie?” Molly suggested.

“Yeah, maybe I could do a name like… Rosie something.”

“Well, Granny Rosie’s maiden name was Wilder. How about that?”

“Rosie Wilder,” Hazel repeated as she slowly nodded her head. “I really like that.”

“I think it’s perfect. It’s fun and creative, romantic and bohemian all at the same time.” Molly clapped her hands together.

“Josie might be able to do the logo. She offered the other day, but I wasn’t really thinking about it seriously, so I just brushed it off.” Hazel whipped her phone from her pocket.