Chapter Three

Helen watched the ceiling fan turn slowly. It barely moved the air in her room, but it did give the illusion of some respite from the heat. This room on the upper floor of the pub was lovely. Big and airy and very quiet, despite being directly above the bar. In fact, it was much quieter than her own tiny flat back in Brisbane. She couldn't afford a lot of rent, so her flat was close to the main road. There was always traffic noise or occasionally the sound of voices as people walked home late at night. She should have slept like a log in this big comfortable bed with its four fat pillows and crisp white sheets. Particularly given her exhaustion after her journey.

But she had slept badly.

Disappointment lay heavily on her heart. She had dreamed of this reunion every day for the past ten years. She'd tried to picture what she would say. How it would feel to hold her daughter in her arms again. And it hadn't happened. Felicity – Tia she called herself now – had been too busy at work to spare any time for her mother. Her daughter must hate her more than she had ever imagined.

Helen swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the photograph on the bedside table. Carefully she straightened the curling edges. Felicity had been such a beautiful child, with her startling green eyes and that mass of curly auburn hair. This photo was of a teenager, a young woman really. It had been taken just a few weeks before Felicity vanished. She wasn't smiling. Helen remembered that she hadn't wanted her photo taken, but Helen had taken it anyway. Just to use up the last shot on a roll of film. Strangely enough, it was the last roll of film Helen had ever used. Everything was digital now, of course. People taking photos on their phones. Not Helen though. She worked in a shelter. The troubled teens and runaways who came to her didn't want to be photographed. Sometimes battered women came to her for help and it was important to protect their identities. Outside of her work there was no one she cared enough about to want to take photos of. But now, there was nothing she would enjoy more than filling her phone with photographs of her daughter.

If she was given the chance.

She retrieved the folded letter that had been lying next to the photo. She opened it slowly. Not that she needed to. She remembered every word on the page. This was the letter that had set everything in motion.

Mum,

I don't know if this letter will get to you. If it does, I am fine and living in a small town called Coorah Creek in western Queensland.

I know it's been a long time, but I would like to get in touch with you.

If that's what you want. Here's my telephone number …

Felicity.

As letters went, it was short and blunt, but as far as Helen was concerned, it was the best letter ever written.

It had taken her two days to pluck up the courage to call. Two days of crying and trying to bring her emotions under control. The last thing she wanted to do was break down when she heard her daughter's voice.

Thinking about that first phone call, here in a hotel room with her daughter not so very far away, tears began to spill from her eyes and roll down her cheeks. It had happened so fast. A couple of short and awkward phone calls, and then she was on the train heading west. The reunion hadn't happened the way she had hoped, but it would happen. She was not going to get this close and then walk away.

Feeling restless, Helen stood up. Still wearing her cotton nightie, she opened the doors leading onto the hotel's wide veranda. From this upstairs room, she overlooked the T-intersection that seemed to form the centre of the town. In the early morning light, the town was totally silent. What a change it was from the city. It seemed very strange to someone who had spent her whole life in the city. What on earth could have brought her daughter here?

Just across the road was a garage that she assumed belonged to the man she'd met twice yesterday. Ed Collins. He'd seemed very nice. She wondered if he was a friend of Max and Felicity. They probably bought petrol for their cars at that garage. It was unsettling to think that Ed Collins, a stranger to her, probably knew her daughter far better than she did.

She slowly became aware of an approaching sound that seemed out of place in the peaceful morning. A large motorcycle came into view. It wasn't moving very quickly. The rider, clad in black leathers and a red full-face helmet, wasn't in a hurry to get wherever he was going. As Helen watched, the big bike slowed to a stop at the intersection, despite the fact that there was no traffic. It was as if the rider wasn't sure which way to go. Finally he made up his mind. The engine growled and the bike crossed the road to stop outside the pub. The rider switched off the engine and dismounted.

That was a bit unexpected. She knew things were very different in the outback, but a pub visit at seven in the morning was just a bit too much, even way out here.

The rider reached up and removed the red full-face helmet.

A wave of long auburn hair fell onto his shoulders.

His shoulders?

Helen's breath caught in her throat as the rider glanced up at the top storey of the hotel.

Felicity?

Instinctively, Helen took half a step back to ensure she was hidden behind the curtains. She stared down at the leather-clad figure. It was definitely a woman. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. She was small and slim, but standing there next to the big motorcycle, she looked incredibly strong and independent. Even from a distance, Helen could see that Felicity had grown into a beautiful young woman. No. Not Felicity. This wasn't the angry and frightened teenager who had run away from home. This was someone else entirely. This was Tia, a person Helen did not know at all. But she would.

Ignoring the tears that were streaming uncontrollably down her face, Helen turned away from the unbelievable sight of her daughter, and scrambled in her suitcase looking for some clothes.

Tia could smell breakfast cooking. Trish Warren did a great breakfast. Grilled tomatoes and steakettes. Tia didn't know why the little flat squares of flattened minced beef should taste so much better than sausages, but they did. And when you added an egg and some tomato sauce, it was just the thing after a hard night shift at the mine.

Her stomach rumbled loudly. She'd worked late last night and stumbled into her trailer at the mine to sleep. She would normally have gone back to the police station and Max's welcoming arms. But last night, she'd been far too restless. And besides, she was just a little bit mad at Max. This reunion with her mother had been his idea. Deep down she knew he was right, and was grateful that he had cajoled her into writing a six-line note and taking the first step towards reconciliation. However, at this exact moment, she was far too nervous to admit that to him. It was easier to be annoyed.

Max had picked her mother up from the station yesterday afternoon and left her at the pub. She had found his text when she came off shift. Her mother, it seemed, was fine and just as nervous as she was. Max had sent his love and support, but he was leaving Tia to do this her own way. She smiled faintly. Max knew her so well. Finding him was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

And it would never have happened had she not run away from home all those years ago and then gotten herself mixed up with a bad crowd. Had she not …

Tia shook her head. It was pointless thinking about what might have been. She had to deal with what was here, in front of her. This was the closest Tia had been to her mother for many years, and she wasn't sure she was ready for what should come next. Not yet.

Which was why she was now standing outside the pub, listening to her stomach demand a taste of Trish's breakfast. She looked up at the top storey of the pub. That's where the accommodation was. Her mother would be in one of those rooms. She wondered briefly which one, and if last night had been more restful for Helen Walsh than it had been for her daughter.

She tossed her helmet in her hands, and thought briefly about putting it back on and riding away again. But all that would do is lengthen the agonising uncertainty. No. She might as well get this over with. She turned to strap the helmet to the seat of her bike, and when she turned around again, there was someone standing on the stairs watching her.

The woman looked as frightened as Tia felt.

For a long time they stood looking at each other. Her mother looked old. No. Not exactly old … more worn down with care. Her clothes were cheap and faded from use. It was obvious she didn't spend much money on her appearance. Or perhaps she didn't have the money to spend. Tia realised that she knew nothing about her mother's life. Was she married? Did she have a job? Had life been good to her? From the look of it, the answer was probably no.

Had her mother suffered as much as Tia herself had? That had never occurred to her before. The wave of guilt that washed over her was as unexpected as it was real. However hard her mother's life had been, Tia's actions had no doubt made it even harder.

‘Hello … Tia.'

Her mother spoke so softly she could hardly hear her. Tia was surprised that she hadn't called her Felicity. She hadn't become Tia until after she ran away. Maybe this was a sign that her mother was really trying.

‘Hello, Mum.' The word sounded strange on her lips. She braced herself in case her mother should suddenly want to hug her. She wasn't ready for that. But neither, it seemed, was Helen.

They were still standing several feet apart. Tia searched for something to say … but what could she say after all this time? Words just were not enough.

‘Well, then, I see you two have found each other.' Trish appeared in the doorway of the pub. ‘Good. Now, I've made your breakfast. I wasn't sure what you might want to eat, so there's a bit of everything. Just leave what you don't want. It's on one of the tables in the bar. You won't be disturbed there. I know you must have a lot of catching up to do, so stay as long as you like. It's hours before we open for business. And just yell if you need more tea or coffee. I'll be in the kitchen.'

Trish held the front door open and stood waiting. Tia and Helen had no choice but to walk inside together.