CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“I think it must be connected. The fire, that nasty man, all the damage being done to the bushland…even the empty beer cans floating down the river.” Charlotte dropped onto the stool beside Rosie and picked up her coffee. Since Rosie arrived an hour ago, they’d spoken of little else than Charlotte’s walk home.
“You must talk to Trev about it, darling.”
“I know. But he’s busy this morning so what is the point of—”
“Of what, Charlotte? What do you need to talk to me about?”
Charlotte’s coffee spilled as she jumped. She grabbed a handful of tissues to mop it up, thankful she had an excuse not to look at Trev just yet.
“Is that doorbell not working again?” Rosie asked. “I’ve had it fixed twice and cannot have people wander in here without us knowing. Even you.”
“Why
