𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛

fourteen

Tara had to take a few minutes with her ear to the still locked door, trying to gauge if Vern was up yet. Her plan was to get off the property without ever seeing him once.

Even when no sounds reached her ears, she still lingered, gathering up the courage to leave. She was grateful for his help, truly, but she came here looking for a quiet place to lay low until her situation blew over. It was clear to her now that Vern's yard wasn't that place.

Tara slid the now oiled lock smoothly out of its place. A strange sense of excitement began to bubble in her chest as she opened the barn door a crack.

She was about to go out on her own again. It was terrifying, there was always the chance she wouldn't be able to find another job or a place to live, but it was the electric sense of possibility that kept her feet light and mind off what she'd seen last night.

The morning sun kissed her face sweetly as she poked her head out. Tara surveyed the windows to Vern's kitchen, still seeing no one inside. It looked like he wasn't up yet.

She ran across the yard, looking over her shoulder the whole way until she got onto the road leading off his property.

Tara walked until she got back into town and began her search for a place to stay. She had a decent few bob now and she could afford to rent a place. A few more days with Vern, she probably would have been able to buy some shithole in town, but it would be a waste if she wasn't staying.

She looked around for about an hour. Tara wasn't too concerned where she stayed, if everything went to plan, she would spend most of her time working to save up for Boston.

The landlord of her chosen building had introduced himself as Denny Wayons, a big man with stretched out buttons and a strange smell, but he seemed honest enough.

Denny lumbered in front of her up the stairs to the third floor. He fished the keys out of his pockets and wiggled them around in the door for a little longer than expected. "The lock's a little cracked sometimes." He explained offhandedly before the door finally gave way.

She didn't let it deter her. At least now, not only would she have trouble getting in her flat, but so would anyone breaking in.

It was a small space, but she didn't need much anyway. A large window threw light into the room. A tiny couch sat in the corner and a little kitchen in the other. The bedroom was miniscule. The walls were whitewashed, the corners needed dusting and it smelled like the windows hadn't been opened in weeks.

It was perfect.

She worked the rent to the lowest she could manage, gave Denny his first month's worth and trekked down to the street, grabbing the first paper she could find. Tara skipping straight to the job ads at the back. She skimmed down through them, leaning her back against the wall of the corner shop.

There was a baker looking for extra help, but Tara hadn't kneaded a pound of dough in her entire life. A seamstress down the road needed an assistant, but she'd almost poked a woman's eye out with a sowing needle before, so maybe that wasn't the best fit.

Half the advertisements were for factory work, but Tara shied away from them. Vern's yard wasn't exactly classified as manual labour, but it had bent her backwards and a factory wouldn't treat her much better.

Going through the list, Tara found reasons to opt against almost every single ad. She was beginning to realise how difficult it would be to find a stable job that suited her even a little bit.

Until her eyes landed on one. Her finger paused in surprise, ceasing its paper trailing to examine the print.

Tara lifted her head and smiled with a slight shake of her head. Decent pay, that was if the owner didn't decide to lower it as soon as he saw her. She was vaguely familiar with the place, as in she'd been there a total of once.