Chapter One

Would this train never move?

Helen Walsh leaned forward and stared out of the window at a flat, barren landscape. She stretched her legs, fighting off stiff muscles and tiredness after a sleepless night in an uncomfortable seat. Flying would have been so much better. But even if she'd had the money, there were no scheduled flights to her destination. Seventeen hours of travel had taken their toll. The train didn't have a sleeping compartment. Not that a fold down bed would have made any difference to her sleepless night. This journey was the most important thing she'd done in more than a decade and sleep was never going to be part of it.

She felt a small shudder through her seat and waited hopefully for the scenery to start moving. She peered through the window, but the train stubbornly remained exactly where it was. According to the announcement, the train was being separated into two parts. A line of empty ore wagons that seemed to stretch forever was destined for the mine. Helen was in the town section, a mere two carriages and very sparsely populated. Not many people, it seemed, had any desire to get to Coorah Creek. Why on earth had Felicity chosen such an out of the way place to live?

Because she was running away. From you. The harsh voice in her head was brutally honest.

She blocked it out. That was then. This was now. The past was gone and she and her daughter were facing a new future. She couldn't wait to see her again. It had been ten years, three months and seventeen days. Ten years of searching for her daughter … until at last her daughter had found her. A one page letter had appeared in her mailbox. A single short phone call had changed her life.

The train started moving forward at a snail's pace, and then gathered a little more speed. It still wasn't moving fast enough for Helen. A building came into view. Then another. Helen leaned towards the windows, straining to see the station ahead. There it was. Now she was desperate for the train to stop. She started gathering her things. Not that there was much to gather. One large and slightly battered black handbag, a magazine that she had failed to read during the long journey, and a brown paper bag with the remains of the meal she'd been too keyed up to eat. She rested the palm of her hand against the outer pocket of the handbag; the pocket that held a photo, now faded and creased after so many years of being shown to people.

Her breath caught in her throat. The moment she had so long dreamed about was almost here.

Helen was already on her feet when finally the train came to a stop. She was the only passenger left in her carriage on this last leg of the long journey. Moving down the aisle between the empty seats, she dragged her suitcase out of the luggage rack. It wasn't heavy. Helen didn't know whether she was here for a day or a week … or longer. She'd just thrown some things together and hopped on the train before anything could stop her. Before she could suddenly wake up and find this was all just a dream.

Her heart was racing as if she'd run a marathon as she opened the door and stepped down onto the platform. She forced herself to pull her suitcase down before she took a deep breath and looked around.

The railway station was tiny. The platform barely stretched the length of two carriages. The station building wasn't even that long. A single doorway led through to some sort of waiting room or office. And that was it. From where she stood, Helen could see past the building to the surrounding area. Everything was dry and brown. The few houses visible in the distance looked very rundown. Perhaps even deserted. There were no cars moving on the road outside the station. As for people … Helen was alone.

No. Not quite alone. Further down the platform, a man began unloading some boxes from a freight carriage. The train driver climbed down from his engine and started checking whatever it was he had to check before locking up. Helen felt very conspicuous just standing there, nervously clutching her handbag.

She glanced down at the cheap watch on her arm. Was the train early? She didn't think so. Maybe Felicity was just parking her car. Helen tried to hold on to that thought, but she could clearly see the gravel parking area in front of the station. It held just one car. Obviously finding somewhere to park was not an issue.

Her shoulders began to sag. Had she come all this way for nothing?

‘Excuse me … can I help you?'

Helen half turned to find someone standing beside her. It was the owner of the boxes, now stacked neatly on the platform. He looked to be in his fifties, about her age. He was wearing overalls stained with grease and oil. His hands were likewise stained and his face was creased and weathered by the sun. Her first thought was to shake her head and quickly back away. But what would that achieve? It seemed she did need his help. Saying yes might be a good way to start this new phase of her life.

‘My daughter was supposed to be here to meet me,' Helen said quietly. ‘But I guess she's running late.'

‘I know what kids can be like. Can I give you a lift somewhere?'

‘No. Thank you. I'm sure she'll be here any minute now. She probably just got caught in traff…' Helen let her voice trail off. Even to her, the excuse sounded ridiculous. Traffic? Here? Who was she kidding?

A wave of disappointment struck her like a physical blow. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. A long journey, a sleepless night on the train and now this. She swayed as exhaustion and sorrow sapped all the strength from her body.

A strong hand closed around her elbow.

‘Let's get you out of this sun. Come over here and sit down.'

Helen had neither the strength nor the will to resist as the man led her to a wooden bench that sat in the shade of the station building, out of the harsh glare of the mid-afternoon sun.

‘Thanks,' she whispered as she sank onto the bench. ‘I'll be fine. I guess I'm just tired after the long journey. And it's very hot.'

‘Of course.' His deep brown eyes held hers for a moment, and she could feel his sympathy. ‘Let me get your suitcase.'

He seemed to take a long time. She knew he was giving her a few moments alone to compose herself, and for that she was grateful.

‘Here you go.' He put her case down with surprising gentleness next to the bench. Then he just stood next to her, as if reluctant to leave. She was glad to have him there. He was a stranger, but anything was better than sitting alone on a deserted station platform in the middle of nowhere.

‘Thank you,' she said quietly.

The sound of a car pulling up in front of the building was surprisingly loud. Helen lifted her head and started to get to her feet.

‘I think—'

‘I am so sorry!' A man in a police uniform hurried towards her. ‘The train was early. The train is never early.'

This must be Max Delaney. Helen looked around for Felicity, but the policeman was alone.

‘Well, I guess I'll leave you two then,' her companion said.

‘Thanks, Ed.' Max said.

‘No problem.' He nodded his head towards Helen with an old-fashioned courtesy. ‘Nice to almost meet you.' He smiled before he returned to his boxes.

Helen forgot him as she looked carefully at the new arrival.

Solid. That was her first thought. He wasn't a particularly big man, although he was obviously fit. The feeling of solidity came from his face and his eyes. Helen knew in an instant this was a man to be trusted and relied upon. It was more than just the uniform. Helen had never put that much stock in a police uniform. There was something about the man wearing it that seemed to fold an aura of safety about her. Did Felicity feel safe with him too?

She closed her eyes before the tears came.

‘Mrs Walsh? Are you all right?'

She opened her eyes again. Her vision was blurred, but she didn't need to see clearly. His voice was so very kind.

‘Please, call me Helen.' It was easier than explaining that she wasn't Mrs Walsh. She never had been.

‘I'm Max,' he said gently. ‘And I'm very glad to meet you.'

Helen took a deep breath, telling herself it was the tiredness that had turned her into an emotional wreck. She took a firm grip on herself and brushed away the tears. She wasn't a crier. At least, not in front of people. All these years she had done her crying alone in the darkness.

‘I am so pleased to meet you too, Max.' She held out her hand. Max took it. The fingers that closed around her hand were firm and steady. That was a good thing because Helen's hand was far from steady.

‘I'm sorry Tia isn't here,' Max said, still holding her hand. ‘She's working this afternoon.'

‘Tia …?'

‘Your daughter. Tia. That's what she calls … what we call her.'

Of course it was. Felicity called herself Tia now. She'd made a point of that during their single short phone conversation. She'd done more than run away all those years ago. She had changed her name and changed who she was. But no matter what changes Felicity had made, Helen was still her mother and she loved her and needed her. Nothing, least of all a name, would ever change that.

She smiled. ‘Of course. It's strange to think of … Tia … working in a mine. Driving one of those huge mine trucks.'

Max chuckled. ‘I guess for her mother it is. But that's how I've always seen her. I can't imagine her doing anything else. She loves it.'

And I love her. Max didn't speak the words, but Helen could see it in his face. It was obvious in the way the corner of his lips twitched when he spoke her name and in the deepening of the laughter lines at the corners of his eyes. This solid, kind man in a uniform loved her daughter.

Felicity had been lucky. Far luckier than Helen.

‘Come on,' Max said, reaching for her suitcase. ‘Let's get you out of here.'

They set out for the cark park and a big four-wheel drive with police markings on the side. Max loaded her bag into the back and held the door open for her.

‘Thank you.'

He got in beside her but hesitated before starting the engine.

‘I have booked a room for you at the pub,' he said gently. ‘It's not a bad place to stay. Well, to be honest, it's the only place in town really. And, of course, Tia and I are taking care of the bill.'

Helen's heart sank. ‘I thought … well … I guess I assumed—'

‘It seemed the best thing to do,' Max spoke quickly. ‘There are rules about having people stay at the police residence. And I also didn't think you would be comfortable there with me.'

‘I thought you and Tia lived there together?' Helen was genuinely surprised.

‘Not exactly. Tia keeps her trailer over at the mine. If she's working late shifts, she sometimes likes to stay there.'

‘And she likes to be independent?' Helen asked.

Max nodded. ‘Yes. She does.'

A room at the pub wasn't what Helen had imagined, but that was all right. It was enough, more than enough, that she was going to see her daughter today. She would accept whatever conditions came with it. She was hardly in a position to object.

‘I understand. I'm sure a room at the pub will be fine,' she said.

She felt his relief as he started the engine and pulled away from the station.

‘You'll love the owners. Trish and Syd Warren. Really good people, both of them. Although Trish does love to gossip.'

A gossip? Normally Helen liked to avoid the gossips. Heaven knew she had been on the receiving end of their cruelty often enough. But the affection in Max's voice as he spoke made her think that maybe this time it would be all right. In fact, maybe there was some gossip she would like to hear. About her daughter and this man sitting beside her. There was so much she wanted to know about how they had met. About their life. About the woman Felicity had become. The woman she didn't know at all.

‘This is a very small town,' Max said as he drove. ‘I am on duty or on call pretty much all of the time. The police station is only a couple of minutes' walk from the pub, so even when I am on duty, I won't be far away.'

‘What time does Tia get off work?' Helen asked, proud of the fact that she said the unfamiliar name without hesitation. ‘I'm looking forward to seeing her so much.'

‘She got called in for a night shift,' Max said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the road. ‘You won't see her until tomorrow.'

‘Oh.' Helen tried to hide her disappointment. She had come all this way. To be so close and not see her daughter. It wasn't how she had pictured this reunion.

Helen hadn't noticed that Max had parked in front of a large two storey building, until he switched off the engine and turned to face her.

‘Helen, you have to understand that Tia is as nervous about seeing you as you no doubt are about seeing her. She's had a tough life. She finds it hard to trust people or let them get close to her. You have to let her come to you when she's ready.'

‘This visit was your idea, not hers, wasn't it?'

‘Yes. It was.'

‘Why?'

‘It's quite simple,' Max said. ‘I love Tia and I want to marry her, but she won't be ready for that until you and she have made your peace. So I'm really doing this for totally selfish reasons.' He was smiling as he said it, but that couldn't hide the hurtful truth. Her daughter really did not want to see her. She was doing it as a favour to the man she loved.

‘She knew I was arriving today?'

‘Yes, she did,' Max said.

Helen felt as if her world was dropping away beneath her feet. Tiredness and emotion had sapped most of her strength.

‘Max, glad you're here.' A small grey-haired woman darted out of the building in front of them. ‘I just had a call. There's an accident on the Mount Isa road – about fifteen kilometres out. Doctor Adam is already on the way.'

‘Thanks, Trish.' Max quickly stepped to the rear of the car to collect Helen's suitcase.

‘I'm terribly sorry,' he told her. ‘Remember what I said about always being on call? I have to go, but Trish will take care of you.'

He jumped back into the car and in a few seconds was gone, leaving Helen feeling more alone than she had ever felt in her life. She put a hand to her sweating forehead, closing her eyes in search of a moment's respite.

‘It is hot, isn't it, dear? I know it's almost March, but summer tends to linger out here, and people from back east sometimes struggle with the heat.' The grey-haired woman patted her arm. ‘So, you come on in out of the hot sun. Let me get you some cold water. You're Tia's mother, aren't you? I'm Trish Warren. Welcome to Coorah Creek.'