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Authors: Ilsa Evans
Tags: australia
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snowy-white shirt with a light and dark blue diagonally striped tie.
‘You wouldn’t be hiding by any chance, would you?’
‘If so, I’m not doing a very good job.’ I smiled to take the sting from my words because I quite liked Leon. He was a relatively late arrival to the town, having established the Majic Art Gallery about four years ago. The gallery focused on Australian art, local in particular, with an exhibition each summer that generated reviews even in the major city papers.
He sat beside me, leaning back with his hands laced behind his head, squinting into the sunshine. ‘To think I moved a little way out because I thought it’d be more peaceful.’
‘Your mistake was shifting behind my mother.’
‘I blame the conveyancer. It should have been part of due diligence.’
I turned to him curiously. ‘Leon, how well
do
you get on? Does she give you any grief?’
‘Does she give me any grief?’ he repeated, clearly giving the matter some thought. ‘Not
really
. But she doesn’t like me much. Doesn’t like my music, doesn’t like my outside light, and certainly didn’t like my dog.’ His voice changed with this last, just slightly.
‘What happened to your dog?’ I vaguely recalled a hyperactive schnauzer that had spent the occasional day at the gallery.
‘Poison,’ said Leon flatly. He unlaced his hands and folded them on his lap. ‘Some bastard poisoned him while I was at work last year.’
‘Seriously? My god, that’s awful!’
‘I know. I reported it but …’ He shrugged. ‘He was only a dog, wasn’t he?’
‘Do you know who did it?’
‘I have my suspicions.’ He flashed me a rapid glance. ‘One of the teenagers up the end maybe. Or that fat fool on the corner.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ I took a sip of coffee. Yen had complained about that dog, and its barking, but would she …? Surely not.
‘How
is
your mother?’ asked Leon, as if reading my thoughts.
‘Oh good, good. Heading over to the house this morning to check out the damage.’
He nodded sympathetically. ‘It’s a mess. You know, I was sitting on my veranda last night, having a drink, thinking about how quickly life can change.’ He hesitated, blinked. ‘Especially for poor Dustin, of course.’
‘Of course. Did you know him well?’
‘No, thank god. I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead, but that guy was a bastard.’
‘Yes, that seems to be the general consensus.’ I took another sip. ‘Do you sit on your veranda most nights?’
Leon laughed. ‘Or, in particular, was I sitting on my veranda the night
before
last? And did I happen to see anything going on in, say, your mother’s backyard?’
‘Well … yes.’
‘Sorry, but no.’ He shot me a look of amusement. ‘The police already asked. That is, I
was
out there earlier in the evening and I even saw Dustin on their decking having a few drinks. He was in one of his bully-boy moods. Got the oldest girl to demonstrate her gymnastics. Handstands and all that. When Beth tried to stop it, he started carrying on about how he was paying for the lessons so had a right to see if he was getting his money’s worth. That was about nine or so.’
‘Were you still there when the police came?’
‘Nah.’ He shook his head. ‘I saw your mother come storming out, so I went inside. To be honest, I didn’t want to get involved. I mean, Dustin Craig
and
your mother? Do I look masochistic?’
‘No. Can’t say I blame you.’ A breeze washed across the oval, enveloped us for a moment, and then continued on. ‘I hear you’ve been promoted to president of the Wine and Cheese Society. Congratulations.’
‘I think it was a case of me being the slowest to say no.’ He stared at me. ‘I’ll find it hard to fill Darcy’s shoes, that’s for sure. We miss him there.’
I nodded, as always unsure how to respond. Should I apologise? Promise I’d do better next time?
Leon had lifted his gaze to my hair. ‘Have I ever told you I
love
your hair?
‘You wouldn’t be hiding by any chance, would you?’
‘If so, I’m not doing a very good job.’ I smiled to take the sting from my words because I quite liked Leon. He was a relatively late arrival to the town, having established the Majic Art Gallery about four years ago. The gallery focused on Australian art, local in particular, with an exhibition each summer that generated reviews even in the major city papers.
He sat beside me, leaning back with his hands laced behind his head, squinting into the sunshine. ‘To think I moved a little way out because I thought it’d be more peaceful.’
‘Your mistake was shifting behind my mother.’
‘I blame the conveyancer. It should have been part of due diligence.’
I turned to him curiously. ‘Leon, how well
do
you get on? Does she give you any grief?’
‘Does she give me any grief?’ he repeated, clearly giving the matter some thought. ‘Not
really
. But she doesn’t like me much. Doesn’t like my music, doesn’t like my outside light, and certainly didn’t like my dog.’ His voice changed with this last, just slightly.
‘What happened to your dog?’ I vaguely recalled a hyperactive schnauzer that had spent the occasional day at the gallery.
‘Poison,’ said Leon flatly. He unlaced his hands and folded them on his lap. ‘Some bastard poisoned him while I was at work last year.’
‘Seriously? My god, that’s awful!’
‘I know. I reported it but …’ He shrugged. ‘He was only a dog, wasn’t he?’
‘Do you know who did it?’
‘I have my suspicions.’ He flashed me a rapid glance. ‘One of the teenagers up the end maybe. Or that fat fool on the corner.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ I took a sip of coffee. Yen had complained about that dog, and its barking, but would she …? Surely not.
‘How
is
your mother?’ asked Leon, as if reading my thoughts.
‘Oh good, good. Heading over to the house this morning to check out the damage.’
He nodded sympathetically. ‘It’s a mess. You know, I was sitting on my veranda last night, having a drink, thinking about how quickly life can change.’ He hesitated, blinked. ‘Especially for poor Dustin, of course.’
‘Of course. Did you know him well?’
‘No, thank god. I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead, but that guy was a bastard.’
‘Yes, that seems to be the general consensus.’ I took another sip. ‘Do you sit on your veranda most nights?’
Leon laughed. ‘Or, in particular, was I sitting on my veranda the night
before
last? And did I happen to see anything going on in, say, your mother’s backyard?’
‘Well … yes.’
‘Sorry, but no.’ He shot me a look of amusement. ‘The police already asked. That is, I
was
out there earlier in the evening and I even saw Dustin on their decking having a few drinks. He was in one of his bully-boy moods. Got the oldest girl to demonstrate her gymnastics. Handstands and all that. When Beth tried to stop it, he started carrying on about how he was paying for the lessons so had a right to see if he was getting his money’s worth. That was about nine or so.’
‘Were you still there when the police came?’
‘Nah.’ He shook his head. ‘I saw your mother come storming out, so I went inside. To be honest, I didn’t want to get involved. I mean, Dustin Craig
and
your mother? Do I look masochistic?’
‘No. Can’t say I blame you.’ A breeze washed across the oval, enveloped us for a moment, and then continued on. ‘I hear you’ve been promoted to president of the Wine and Cheese Society. Congratulations.’
‘I think it was a case of me being the slowest to say no.’ He stared at me. ‘I’ll find it hard to fill Darcy’s shoes, that’s for sure. We miss him there.’
I nodded, as always unsure how to respond. Should I apologise? Promise I’d do better next time?
Leon had lifted his gaze to my hair. ‘Have I ever told you I
love
your hair?
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