Driftwood by Mandy Magro Page A

after her exhausting but exciting couple of days on the road. She sat up, thrilled about what the day held — her very first day in Driftwood. Floyd sat up beside her, the sheet still half over his head, his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth. She glanced sideways at him, fighting to contain her amusement.
    â€˜Oi, you cheeky bugger, what are you doing in my bed? I thought I told you to sleep on the floor?’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Col will kick us out if he knows you slept in the bed. He was undecided about you being in the room at all. It was only because of Faith’s insistence that he agreed!’
    Floyd whined then tilted his head to the side, looking mighty cute as the sheet slid from him and onto the floor. Taylor ruffled his ears, chuckling. ‘If you don’t tell him, I won’t. It’s our little secret. Anyways, I reckon it’s time for some brekkie, don’t you? Those chips and chocolates we got from the vending machine haven’t filled the gap. And I’m not even going to start on the lack of nutritious value . . .’ Taylor licked her lips. ‘Hmm, I could go a nice big plate of fried eggs, mushrooms and bacon. And I’ll order you a bowl of raw mince, if they don’t mind, that is. I’m sure Faith won’t. She loved you!’ Taylor blew a long ringlet from her face. ‘But I’ll have to bring you yours outside. I don’t reckon Col’s going to let you sit with me in the hotel’s dining room. Sorry, buddy.’
    Taylor leapt from the bed, skipped out to the living area and ripped the curtains open, her eyes watering instantly from the glare. In broad daylight the apartment looked different: a bit dated, but cosy, the walls a light shade of lemon yellow with old-fashioned pictures of country landscapes scattered about. The kitchen was tiny but very functional with a breakfast bench facing the small open-plan lounge room, the telly in prime position for when she was cooking up a storm, which she often did. Cooking was therapeutic for her. The scent of potpourri hung pleasantly in the air, a bowl of it sitting in the middle of the coffee table among a few magazines. It was a very welcoming space, she thought, and even better seeing it was now hers.
    Grabbing a glass from the overhead cupboards and filling it from the tap, Taylor moseyed towards the front door, letting a tail-waggling Floyd out for a toilet run and hoping he would remember his way out to the paddock behind the hotel. While she waited for Floyd to return, she stood at the windows and took in the view. The lush gardens bordering her ground-floor apartment allowed a glimpse of Driftwood’s one and only road, where four-wheel drives travelled along slowly and country-clad pedestrians ran their morning errands. Just beyond that she spotted the unmistakable white froth of waves as they crashed upon a dazzling sandy beach. It all seemed so surreal. ‘Ahh Driftwood, my new home,’ she whispered, enthralled. It was exactly as she had imagined it to be when she had read the name on the road sign yesterday — quaint and gorgeous.
    Taylor gulped the last mouthful from her cup, presuming it was rainwater, it tasted so good. Outside looked to be a gloriously sunny day, perfect weather for a bit of poking about the place, discovering what Driftwood had to offer and introducing herself to some of the locals. Not that it would take her long, considering there was only one road in and one road out.
    Jay had already informed her that other than the usual community centre, primary school, high school, health clinic, fire station and police station, Driftwood’s shopping area consisted only of essential businesses: the Southern Cross Hotel, the Bendigo bank, the agriculture supply store, the post office-slash-chemist-slash-corner store, the petrol station-slash-take away and the hairdresser-slash-beautician-slash-gift shop. She had giggled at the