Chapter Two

‘Talk to you next week, Dad. Bye.'

‘Bye, Scott.'

The image on the computer screen vanished and Ed Collins clicked the application off. He reached out to stroke the grey tabby cat sleeping on a folded up old T-shirt on the end of his desk.

‘They seem happy,' Ed said to the cat. ‘And it looks like Katie is settling in well to her studies.' The cat turned his head just a fraction so Ed could scratch the proper place under his ear.

Ed shook his head. ‘Listen to me,' he said. ‘Talking to a cat.'

He continued stroking the animal as he thought about his son, now living on the far side of the world. Scott had been in England for more than a year now. He'd seen snow and had a white Christmas – something Ed had only ever dreamed about. He had a dream job too – restoring classic cars at a motor museum. Ed was pleased and proud of his son, especially because they'd been estranged for so many years. Eighteen months ago his son had come back and, over a hot dry outback Christmas, somehow they had found a way to overcome the past. That was partly due to Scott's English girlfriend Katie. Katie was the reason Scott was so far away, but Ed didn't mind. He had a suspicion he might be visiting them soon. Once Katie had finished studying for her medical degree, there would be a wedding and Ed was determined to go.

The thought of a wedding drew his eyes inexorably to the large unopened brown envelope sitting on his desk. He could see the solicitor's stamp in the corner. He reached for it, and then thought better of it. He'd already waited more than fourteen years. What did a few more hours matter? Until he actually opened it, he could pretend … what? He wasn't sure what he wanted.

He got up and walked through to the kitchen, feeling a small glow of pleasure as he entered the bright cheerful room. For a long time, living alone, he'd let this house go. But in the past twelve months, everything had changed. What a difference a coat of paint made! His kitchen wouldn't make a spread in some posh magazine, but he liked the pale blue paint and the new polished pine cabinets.

For far too long he'd lived like a hermit, alone with his memories in the gloom of a decaying house behind the old garage he owned. He'd been gloomy and decaying too. Anger and bitterness and regret would do that to a man. He could remember days on end when he spoke to no one. Not even the few customers who called for fuel. When he looked back at that man, Ed could barely recognise himself.

The house was no longer decaying; the garage had taken on a new lease of life and Ed was a new man. Being reunited with his son had brought him back from the dark and lonely place he'd been. But he was still lonely. Perhaps even more so than ever before. He talked to Scott via the internet every couple of weeks, but somehow that only highlighted how alone he was the rest of the time. His only constant companion was the cat he had adopted to replace the old dog he'd lost on the same day he had found his son again.

‘Damn it!' That letter had unsettled him. He needed some human company. He'd head over to the pub for a meal.

It took less than a minute to walk out the door, across the road and into the familiar long narrow bar of the Coorah Creek Hotel. Syd Warren was behind the bar polishing glasses, and the smell of Trish's cooking wafted gently from the back of the building. Whatever was on the menu tonight smelled pretty good. The pub was almost empty. A couple of guys were playing pool. In the lounge, a family of four was settling down to dinner.

‘G'day, Ed.' Syd put down the glass and cloth. ‘Beer?'

‘Yep. Thanks.' Ed slid onto his accustomed stool.

‘Have you heard from Scott and Katie? How are they doing?'

‘I was just talking to them. Scott's doing well in his job. He's just been given an old Bentley to restore. I'm a bit jealous.' Ed smiled. ‘I bet a job in an English motor museum is far more exciting that running the only garage in Coorah Creek.'

‘I imagine almost anywhere is more exciting than Coorah Creek.' Syd smiled as he said it. The elderly publican and his wife had been running the hotel for as long as anyone could remember. The hotel and the Warrens were the heart of the town and Ed couldn't imagine them being happy anywhere else.

Ed raised his glass, enjoying the taste of the ice cold beer at the end of a long hot day. As he drank he heard Syd greet another arrival. When he put his glass down and glanced to his right, he saw a woman sitting on a stool a short distance away. He recognised her at once from their earlier meeting. She had looked lost and alone at the railway station. In need of a friend. She looked much the same now.

‘Well, hello again.'

He felt, rather than saw, Syd's look of surprise. Ed had come out of his shell during the past year, but even now he wasn't a chatty sort of person. And he was certainly no ladies' man. But there was something about this woman, and it wasn't just the lovely kingfisher blue eyes that she turned his way. He could sense her vulnerability. Regret and sadness hung over her like a cloud. That was something Ed could understand.

‘Hello,' she said.

‘We didn't quite meet at the station. I'm Ed Collins,' he said. ‘I own the garage here in town.'

‘I'm Helen Walsh.'

Of course. That explained why Max had met her at the station. ‘You're Tia's mother?'

‘Yes.' She sounded almost uncertain.

‘Don't be surprised,' Syd said with a smile. ‘This is a very small town. Everyone knows everyone else.'

‘Oh. I see.'

Ed was about to ask if Tia would be joining her, but then he stopped. Everything about Helen, from the set of her shoulders to the way her hands lay still on the bar top, told him that whatever Helen had expected wasn't about to happen.

‘Can I buy you a drink?' he asked instead.

‘No. No,' Helen replied hurriedly. ‘I just came down to ask about dinner. Max had to go to some emergency and Tia's working tonight.'

‘And I imagine the food on the train wasn't very good,' Ed said.

‘No. Not really.'

‘Well, things are looking up,' he replied. ‘Syd's wife Trish cooks a fine steak.'

‘Oh, just something small will do. A sandwich even …'

‘Not in my bar,' Trish called as she appeared through a door at the end of the room. ‘People eat proper meals under my roof. How are you, dear, settling in all right? Good. Hello, Ed. I hope that boy of yours is doing well over there in England. Such a long way away. I bet you miss him. And young Katie too. She's a nice girl. Smart too. I think she'll be a wonderful doctor.'

Ed watched Helen's eyes widen with something close to panic as Cyclone Trish took her usual position behind the bar. The publican's wife could be more than a little overwhelming when you didn't know her. Helen would soon realise that she was all bluster with a heart of gold, and didn't really expect anyone to answer her questions. He winked at Helen, and was rewarded by the smallest hint of a smile.

‘Tonight we have lasagne,' Trish said. ‘And garlic bread. I don't usually hold with foreign food, but lasagne isn't really foreign, is it? Or do you want a steak as usual, Ed? I know the big city doctors say too much red meat is bad for you, but what do they know about life out here? A man needs a good meal after a hard day's work.'

‘Steak sounds good, thanks,' Ed replied.

‘And what do you want, dear? We also have lamb chops. Or maybe I could do you some salad with the lasagne, if you like. Nothing fancy though. It's a bit hard to get fresh salad stuff all the way out here, and lettuce doesn't do well if it's frozen.'

‘Umm. How much is the lasagne?'

‘Don't you worry about that, dear. It's all going on Max's tab. The least he can do is buy you dinner. Lasagne it is then. And what do you want to drink? Most of our customers drink beer. Or Bundy rum. But we do have wine, if you prefer.'

‘Just a Coke, thanks.'

‘Right. I'll be back soon with the meals.' Trish bustled away again.

Ed leaned slightly towards Helen. ‘Don't mind Trish,' he said in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘She's good people really. The best. She just talks a bit.'

He was again rewarded with the ghost of a smile, and this time it almost reached those remarkable deep blue eyes.

Ed found himself smiling back. His heart did something it hadn't done in a very, very long time. It gave a little flutter in his chest. It suddenly became very important to see if that ghost of a smile might become the real thing. If he could be the one to make Helen smile, that would be even better.

His mind raced, trying to think of something he could say. Something that she would think was funny. Or clever. Or…

‘So what do you think of our town?' As the words came out of his mouth he knew it was a stupid question, but it was the best he could do. He'd been alone too long. Small talk just was not his thing.

‘I haven't really seen any of it,' Helen replied. ‘Max brought me straight here from the station.'

Ed could have kicked himself. He hadn't been on a date for … well, for much longer than he cared to think. For a long time he'd preferred to be alone. And if he'd been feeling lonely lately, Coorah Creek didn't exactly abound with eligible women. And when you worked seven days a week … Still, it was embarrassing. Here he was, a grown man – a middle-aged man if he was to be perfectly honest – acting like he was some tongue-tied teenager. It was those eyes of hers. When she looked at him he had trouble breathing, let alone stringing words together into a coherent sentence.

‘Well, if you like, I could show you around after diner,' he said. ‘It's a small town. We could see most of it in a ten-minute walk. There will still be plenty of twilight left.'

Her eyes changed. A shadow fell over them. She didn't move, but he could sense her drawing away from him.

‘Here's the lasagne, dear.' Trish appeared, carrying a plate liberally heaped with food. ‘Ed, your steak'll only be a couple of minutes.'

‘I … I think I'll eat in the lounge. At a table …' Helen got to her feet and picked up her glass of Coke. ‘Nice to meet you, Mister … Ed.' She nodded and almost ran through the door into the lounge.

Ed was a little stunned. Trish gave him an accusing look as she followed Helen, still carrying the plate of food.

What had he done? Ed was more than willing to admit that he wasn't Mister Smooth. But his offer was meant as a gesture of friendliness. It shouldn't have caused Helen to run away. It was a very long time since he'd had much to do with a woman, but he was sure he hadn't done anything wrong. Or threatening.

He reached for his beer and stared down into the golden liquid.

Anyway, it was probably for the best, given his situation. His mind went back to the brown envelope sitting on his desk. It was time. Well past time. He'd eat his steak and then read that letter. Whatever it contained, good or bad, couldn't be worse than all these years of not knowing.