slumped on her bench in the third row, her legs jiggling, her thumbs dancing over her fingertips. There was a good portion of the commune lined up beside her, including Sunflower, who was humming happily despite the cacophony of white noise, and Johnno, who was staring out into space.
Only, Amber wasn’t here in the hope of spotting the exotic stranger. She’d seen enough of him already, from the scar above his right eyebrow to the birthmark on the base of his left big toe—and everything in between. She shifted on her seat and cleared her throat.
She was here in case the Hinterland House plans—whatever they might be—were on the agenda in the hope she could see with her own eyes as someone shouted it down. Then Hugo would leave and things could go back to normal. Or as normal as things ever got in Serenity.
Someone, but not her.
It hadn’t passed her by that her parents would have loved this kind of David and Goliath fight—though nobody would have mistaken them for David in their Gucci suits and Mercedes four-wheel drives. It made them great lawyers, but terrible parents.
How could they be expected to nurse a “difficult” baby when there was so much injustice to stamp down? Enough that Australia’s most infamous human rights lawyers put the care of their only child into the hands of daycare and night nannies from six weeks of age. Their work was far too important for them to abide the distraction.
The smack of a gavel split the silence and Amber flinched, reminded of the number of courtrooms she’d been in as a child. Well, she didn’t have the mental space to think about her parents today. Or ever, if at all possible. She sat taller, stopped her nervous fidgets and waited.
“Squeeze up,” called a voice as someone managed to squash into the end of Amber’s row, the rickety wooden bench wobbling as the crowd sardined. When she looked back to the stage, Councillor Paulina Pinkerton—the leader of the seven-member local council—and her cohorts trailed onto the stage then took their seats.
The gavel struck a second time. Amber flinched again. It was a conditioned response, like Pavlov’s ruddy dog. The twitters settled to a hush, chairs scratched against the wooden floor, a teenaged boy laughed. Somebody coughed. A baby started to fret. And the town of Serenity held its breath.
“Nice to see so many of you here today. I might choose to think it’s because you’ve heard around the traps how darned interesting our meetings are, but I fear there is some issue that has you all aflutter. So let’s get through the necessaries.”
The councilwoman swept through the minutes and old business with alacrity. Then she opened the floor.
“Any new business?”
The hum started up again. Whispers, murmurs, the shuffle of bottoms turning on seats. But nobody said a word.
“Fine. Next meeting will be...next Tuesday at—Ms Hartley? Did you have something to add?”
Amber blinked to hear her name being called from the councillors’ table, only to realise she was on her feet. Did she have something to add? No! Legally emancipated from her indifferent parents at sixteen in a legal battle that had become a national story in a slow news week, she’d spent her life living like dandelion fluff, flitting from place to place, not getting involved.
Until Serenity. Sunflower had taken one look at her empty backpack, her bedraggled state and offered the shack for a night, then another, and somehow she’d found herself stuck in this sweet place, with these kind people, none of whom had a clue what was about to befall them.
This place...it was her sanctuary. And she’d harboured the enemy—however unwittingly. She owed it to them to do whatever it took to protect them.
Damn him. Damn Hugo Prince Whatever-His-Name-Was and his whole crazy family for making her do this.
Amber scooted past the knees blocking her way down the bench. Once she had reached the small rostrum—a literal soapbox attached to a stand fashioned out of a fallen tree, which had been a gift to the town from Johnno, who was a pretty brilliant artist when he was in the right head-space—Amber squared her shoulders, looked each councilman and councilwoman in the eye and prayed her parents would never hear word of what she was about to do.
“Ms Hartley.” Councillor Pinkerton gave Amber an encouraging smile. “The floor is yours.”
“Thank you. I’ll get right to it. I have come to understand that the owners of Hinterland House are back and I believe that they have plans to develop the land. Firstly, I’d like to know if the latter is true, and, if so, I put forward a motion to stop it.”
Once she had started, the words poured out of her like water from a busted pipe. Energy surged through the crowd behind her like a snake. It was electric. And she hated it. Because the thrill of the fight was in her veins after all.
“Much of Serenity belongs to the Van Halprins, Ms Hartley, and, apart from the segments bequeathed to the township, they are within their rights to develop that land.”
“Into what?”
The councillor paused, clearly thinking through how much she was legally allowed to say, and legally allowed to hold back. “The plans as they are will be up for local consideration soon enough. The Prince plans to build a resort.”
Whispers broke out all over the room.
Amber breathed out hard. Sunflower’s rumours were one thing, Hugo’s indefinite admissions another. But having Councillor Pinkerton admit to as much had Amber feeling sick to the stomach. In fact, she had to breathe for a few seconds in order to keep her stomach from turning over completely.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Johnno grinning serenely back at her; found Sunflower watching her like a proud sister. Her gaze landed on another dozen members of their collective community—all of whom had come to Serenity in search of acceptance and kindness and peace.
Where would people like them, people like her, go if they had to move on?
She turned back to the front, her heart pumping so hard it seemed to be trying to escape her chest. The room was so still now, even the fretting baby had quieted, meaning her voice made it all the way to the rear of the room and out into the halls, hitting every ear as she said, “I ask that Council accept the inclusive community living on Serenity Hill has been in residence long enough to legally remain. I cry adverse possession.”
The murmurs began in earnest. Most asking what the heck adverse possession was.
“For those who do not know the legalese,” said Councillor Pinkerton into her microphone, “Ms Hartley is claiming squatter’s rights.”
At that, the town hall exploded as a hundred conversations began at once. Cheers came from some corners, jeers from others. The fretting baby began to cry in earnest.
The gavel smacked against the wooden table, quieting the crowd somewhat. And this time it rang through Amber like an old bell. Sweet and familiar and pure.
“Thank you, Ms Hartley. Your position has been noted. Does anyone else have anything to say on the matter?”
Amber glanced over her shoulder to find movement at the back of the hall.
A man had stepped into the aisle, a man with overlong hair swept away from his striking face and
