throwing something at her. A tiny shriek escaped her lips and she stumbled backwards, brushing her hands frantically all over herself.
“Only kidding,” he laughed.
“Oh, my God,” she yelled at him, “that was not funny, Mike.”
“Yes it was,” he chuckled back, picking up another log, and throwing it into the barrow.
“Seriously, if you do that again, you’re fired,” she warned, frowning and wagging her finger at him. “I hate spiders.”
“Oh, come on, Matilda, you know you could never replace me,” he said, lifting his head and giving her an impish grin. She gave into a smile.
“No, well maybe not, but I’m sure I could think of something else to get you back.”
“Fair enough,” he accepted. “There that should be enough to keep you going for a few days,” he said, at the overflowing barrow of logs.
“Well, you can wheel it back in punishment for the spider,” Matilda said, raising her hands to her hips.
“I would have done it anyway, so you’ve wasted your revenge,” he declared, taking hold of the two handles, and lifting the barrow.
“Oh bugger,” she groaned playfully, following him out of the woodshed.
Parker was barking.
“Parker,” Mike shouted, looking into the trees. The dog continued to bark. “Parker, come here,” Mike yelled again.
“What’s he barking at?” Matilda asked.
“Probably rabbits,” he replied. Parker shot out of the trees and bounded towards them.
“You been rabbiting, boy?” he asked fussing him. The dog barked in reply.
It was hard work getting a wheelbarrow through the overgrown garden. Mike cursed a few times as not only did he have a wonky wheel to contend with, it also kept getting stuck in the brambles and mud. Eventually getting the barrow to the back door, they took the logs in the kitchen and stacked them in a pile at the back of the kitchen.
“Do you have any kindling, or firelighters? If so, I’ll lay it for you,” he offered. She shook her head.
“No, but I have to go into town later I can pick some up then. Thanks for your help,” she said gratefully watching him brush his hands down his trousers. Mike’s walkie talkie went off and he unhooked it from his belt.
“Hello,” he said.
“Mike, we need you on site,” Steve’s voice came back.
“Okay, I’m on my way,” he replied.
“Oh, Mike, could you just give me a quick hand to move this?” Matilda asked, hurrying out of the kitchen. Mike put his walkie-talkie on the table and followed her.
“It’s my mother’s old butcher’s block, I thought I could use it to put a TV on for now,” she said, walking into the utility room.
“God it’s huge,” he said, as he saw the solid pine block.
“I know it’s ancient and bloody heavy.”
“Push or pull?” he asked.
“Push,” she replied. Putting her weight behind the block, Mike grabbed the iron rail running down one side of the block and pulled.
“Thanks again, Mike,” Matilda said, as they finished manoeuvring it into place in the kitchen.
“You’re welcome, just give me a shout if you need me to do anything else,” he offered. “Parker,” he called.
“I will,” she assured, watching him leave, Parker as always at his heels.
Matilda was dreading her next job. Grabbing some black bags and her bucket of cleaning materials she walked into the day-lounge and began clearing out old magazines from the shelf underneath the coffee table. Most of them were country homes and interior magazines. She knelt on the rug flicking through a few to see if there was anything worth keeping. Not much had changed in eleven years, and it seemed most of the features and designs were back in fashion. Spotting a box, she pulled it out, and brushed off the dust, knowing immediately what was inside. She sat crossed legged on the rug, making herself comfortable and opened the box.
“Oh my God,” she muttered, and she began pawing through the family photos of their last
“Only kidding,” he laughed.
“Oh, my God,” she yelled at him, “that was not funny, Mike.”
“Yes it was,” he chuckled back, picking up another log, and throwing it into the barrow.
“Seriously, if you do that again, you’re fired,” she warned, frowning and wagging her finger at him. “I hate spiders.”
“Oh, come on, Matilda, you know you could never replace me,” he said, lifting his head and giving her an impish grin. She gave into a smile.
“No, well maybe not, but I’m sure I could think of something else to get you back.”
“Fair enough,” he accepted. “There that should be enough to keep you going for a few days,” he said, at the overflowing barrow of logs.
“Well, you can wheel it back in punishment for the spider,” Matilda said, raising her hands to her hips.
“I would have done it anyway, so you’ve wasted your revenge,” he declared, taking hold of the two handles, and lifting the barrow.
“Oh bugger,” she groaned playfully, following him out of the woodshed.
Parker was barking.
“Parker,” Mike shouted, looking into the trees. The dog continued to bark. “Parker, come here,” Mike yelled again.
“What’s he barking at?” Matilda asked.
“Probably rabbits,” he replied. Parker shot out of the trees and bounded towards them.
“You been rabbiting, boy?” he asked fussing him. The dog barked in reply.
It was hard work getting a wheelbarrow through the overgrown garden. Mike cursed a few times as not only did he have a wonky wheel to contend with, it also kept getting stuck in the brambles and mud. Eventually getting the barrow to the back door, they took the logs in the kitchen and stacked them in a pile at the back of the kitchen.
“Do you have any kindling, or firelighters? If so, I’ll lay it for you,” he offered. She shook her head.
“No, but I have to go into town later I can pick some up then. Thanks for your help,” she said gratefully watching him brush his hands down his trousers. Mike’s walkie talkie went off and he unhooked it from his belt.
“Hello,” he said.
“Mike, we need you on site,” Steve’s voice came back.
“Okay, I’m on my way,” he replied.
“Oh, Mike, could you just give me a quick hand to move this?” Matilda asked, hurrying out of the kitchen. Mike put his walkie-talkie on the table and followed her.
“It’s my mother’s old butcher’s block, I thought I could use it to put a TV on for now,” she said, walking into the utility room.
“God it’s huge,” he said, as he saw the solid pine block.
“I know it’s ancient and bloody heavy.”
“Push or pull?” he asked.
“Push,” she replied. Putting her weight behind the block, Mike grabbed the iron rail running down one side of the block and pulled.
“Thanks again, Mike,” Matilda said, as they finished manoeuvring it into place in the kitchen.
“You’re welcome, just give me a shout if you need me to do anything else,” he offered. “Parker,” he called.
“I will,” she assured, watching him leave, Parker as always at his heels.
Matilda was dreading her next job. Grabbing some black bags and her bucket of cleaning materials she walked into the day-lounge and began clearing out old magazines from the shelf underneath the coffee table. Most of them were country homes and interior magazines. She knelt on the rug flicking through a few to see if there was anything worth keeping. Not much had changed in eleven years, and it seemed most of the features and designs were back in fashion. Spotting a box, she pulled it out, and brushed off the dust, knowing immediately what was inside. She sat crossed legged on the rug, making herself comfortable and opened the box.
“Oh my God,” she muttered, and she began pawing through the family photos of their last
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