Chapter Five

There was a car parked at his bowsers when Ed arrived back from the river. The driver, a stranger, was knocking impatiently at the garage door.

‘G'day,' Ed called as he approached. ‘Just give me a second and I'll be right with you.'

‘I'm on my way through to Birdsville,' the driver said as he waited for Ed to unlock the bowsers. ‘So you'd better fill it up.'

As Ed went about a task that was as familiar to him as breathing, his mind was elsewhere. This was the first time in as long as he could remember that he had been late opening the garage for business. His garage was almost always open. Seven days a week. Every day of the year except for Christmas Day. That's just the way it was out here. He was the only source of fuel for several hundred kilometres in every direction. Just as Max was always on call for emergencies, Ed was pretty much always on call too. For fuel. For repairs. His job wasn't really life or death the way Max's job was. When he was young and married and Scott was a kid, he'd taken time off on the weekends to share with his family. But when first his wife and then his son left him alone, he'd drifted into being open seven days a week. Even if there were no customers, the need to unlock those bowsers was the thing that got him out of bed every morning. Without the steady stream of people relying on him for their fuel, he had … nothing.

At least, that was how it had been. Today, something else had been more important than opening up.

Someone else had been more important.

That felt strange. But it felt good too.

As soon as his customer left, Ed ducked into the house to collect the still unopened brown envelope. Last night, he'd found yet another excuse not to open it. Well, no more excuses.

He dropped it on the counter next to the cash register and perched on his stool. Whatever that envelope contained, it was going to change his life.

He clenched his mouth into a thin line and tore it open.

The paper was crisp and white. The solicitor's letterhead was a subdued dark maroon in colour. Very professional and efficient looking. He'd never actually met his solicitor, but in Ed's mind, he was a grim man. You would have to be to spend your life doing what the man was doing for Ed. He took a deep breath and started to read.

Dear Mr Collins,

Pursuant to your request, we have continued to search for Mrs Stephanie Collins. Unfortunately our search remains unsuccessful. Therefore, as per your instructions, we have begun divorce proceedings.

Please find enclosed, for your signature …

Divorce.

The word leaped off the page at him. Seeing it in cold black and white made it all suddenly seem very real. He felt his shoulders tense. Slowly he bent his head forward, closing his eyes as he stretched the tendons in his neck. It was time. It was well past time. His wife had shaken off the dust of Coorah Creek fourteen years ago. She had walked out on a husband and a son, leaving their relationship as broken as the marriage. It had taken a very long time and a lot of pain for that relationship to heal.

And it had taken a very long time for Ed to move on from the marriage.

Ed had started this process a few months before, after an internet conversation with Scott and Katie in the UK. Scott had mentioned his mother. It was a passing comment that Ed could no longer remember, but at the time it had played on his mind. The next morning, he'd casually typed his wife's name into Google. There were plenty of people called Stephanie Collins out there. A doctor. A charity worker. There was even an artist. For a few seconds that had given Ed pause. His Steph has been a bit ‘arty'. But that wasn't her. He was looking for a woman with curly blonde hair. Or was he? He realised that, after so many years, he might not even recognise the woman he had once loved so dearly.

That's when he decided to find a lawyer. Not just to find her, but to end a marriage that hadn't been real for a very long time. It had never occurred to Ed that a divorce was anything more than just a tidying up of loose ends. It had never crossed his mind that he might have any other reason to free himself from his dead marriage.

Until a pair of kingfisher blue eyes had caused his heart to skip a beat.

He looked at the contents of the envelope again. Despite everything, he needed time. Not just to read and understand the legalese, but time to think about what he was doing and why.

He heard a very familiar and distinctive engine noise approaching. He slid the papers back into the envelope and got to his feet. He stepped out of the office door just as Tia parked her Harley next to the bowser. She swung her leg over the back of the bike and started to remove her gloves and helmet. By the time she'd done that, Ed was standing by the pump, the hose in his hand.

‘Fill it up, thanks, Ed.'

‘My pleasure.'

And it actually was. For many years, his isolation had been so complete he'd rarely spoken to his customers as he served them. He could only imagine what they'd thought of him. Sour and grumpy didn't even begin to describe how he had been. That darkness started to lift when he and Scott were reconciled. In the past few months, he had come to enjoy passing the time of day with his customers. A few of them had been surprised at his chattiness, but most were more than willing to talk. Out here, conversation was sometimes hard to come by.

But he wasn't sure how Tia was going to react to this conversation.

‘I met your mother, Tia. She seems very nice.'

Tia looked at him, her face blank and totally unreadable. ‘Max told me you were at the station when the train got in. Thanks for keeping her company until Max got there.'

‘That was no trouble, and anyway, it hardly counted as meeting her. I was referring to this morning.'

He felt the tension that froze Tia where she stood. The look she turned on him was halfway between a child caught doing something wrong, and an animal trapped in the headlights of an approaching car. It would be funny if it wasn't so sad.

‘After breakfast we went for a walk down by the creek.'

‘Why?'

‘Don't sound so shocked. Your mother is a nice woman. I enjoy her company. And besides, she looked like she needed a bit of fresh air.'

Tia began to bristle.

‘Now don't go getting all stroppy,' he said quickly, before she could open her mouth. ‘I know the two of you have issues to sort out. But that doesn't mean I can't be friends with Helen. God knows she probably needs one.'

Tia took a deep breath and Ed knew he was treading on thin ice.

‘Look,' he said, ‘I know it's not my place, but why don't you give your mother a break.'

‘You're right,' Tia said sharply. ‘It's not your place.'

‘Come on, Tia. You know the town well enough to know that everyone looks out for everyone else. You weren't here at the time, but I'm pretty sure you heard about me and my son Scott.'

Tia hesitated, then nodded.

‘I know what it feels like as a parent to lose touch with a child. I know how crippling the guilt and the fear can be. No one should have to live their life like that.'

‘You don't know the full story.' Tia sounded like a petulant child.

‘No. I don't. But I know one thing … finding Scott again was the best thing that ever happened to me. I bet you'll think the same once you make peace with your mother.'

‘Look, Ed, I know you mean well. But this is between her and me.'

‘Her? She's your mother, Tia. Can't you at least acknowledge that?'

Without a word, Tia pulled her full-face helmet back over her head, effectively ending the conversation. Ed finished filling her tank and by the time he'd placed the hose back on the pump, Tia had vanished in a rush of anger and noise.

Ed sighed, and went back into the office to add the petrol to Tia's account. She was right; he had been out of line. But he just wanted to help Helen. She had looked so alone and vulnerable that morning. She was clearly hurting and crippled by guilt. Whatever the reason, Ed didn't think she deserved to suffer for the rest of her life. Tia would get over her anger with him. And then maybe she'd give some thought to what he'd said.

‘Bloody Ed Collins,' Tia said as she stormed in through the front door of the police station. ‘I wish he'd mind his own business.'

She tossed her helmet and gloves onto a bench and dropped into a chair to glare across a crowded desk at Max. Annoyingly, he just smiled and shook his head.

‘What?' she demanded.

‘You're very cute when you're angry.'

She wanted to scream, but how could she? He was looking at her with that look he had. The look that made her feel like she was something special. That she was worth something. The look that told her she was loved. So she smiled instead.

‘So, what did Ed do?' Max wanted to know.

‘Apparently he and my mother went for a walk this morning down by the creek.'

‘Really?' Max's eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘I knew they spoke yesterday, but I didn't realise they were at the walk by the creek point.'

Tia wished she could throw something at him. Walking by the creek was the local euphemism for teenagers going somewhere private to make out. And it usually was down by the creek …

‘This is my mother, for goodness sake. Stop that.'

Max chuckled. ‘All right. Tell me what Ed said to upset you so much?'

‘He was going on about how tough it must have been for my mother, not knowing where I was. And he told me I should give her a break. He's as bad as you are.'

‘Ed and his son were estranged for a long time,' Max pointed out reasonably. ‘He does understand. And as for you giving your mother a break. He's right and you know it.'

Tia felt all the wind go out of her sails. She relaxed into the chair as her anger left her. ‘I know. You're both right. But it's hard.'

Max slid his chair back and came to the front of his desk. ‘Yes, it is,' he said as he perched on the edge of the desk in front of her. ‘You've both got a lot of baggage to get past. But you can do it.'

Tia felt a suspicion of tears behind her eyes and she blinked them back. She wasn't a crier. ‘I want to, Max. Honestly I do. But every time I look at her … there are such bad memories. I just can't seem to let them go. And this morning. Sitting across the table from her like we used to do when I was small. Well, it was too much for me.'

Max dropped to a crouch in front of her chair, and took her hands in his. ‘Would it be better if I was there?'

‘Maybe …'

‘Why don't you invite her to dinner tonight? I'll cook and you can talk. It might be easier if there are three of us.'

‘And no Trish Warren fussing.'

‘Trish means well,' Max said. ‘So? What do you think? Dinner for three at the police residence?'

Tia sighed. ‘You know, it's really irritating that you are so reasonable all the time. Not to mention right.'

Max smiled and reached up to kiss her soundly on the lips. ‘No … it's one of the reasons you love me.'

There he was – right again.

‘But I'm going to cook,' Tia said in her most determined voice. ‘It'll stop me going crazy waiting.'

‘No, it won't,' Max said. ‘But all right. You cook. But you're not allowed to hide in the kitchen when she arrives.'

Tia stuck her tongue out at him as her mood lightened. Max had that effect on her. He could always make her feel better about herself.

‘And you have to call her and invite her,' Max added firmly. ‘I'm not going to do it for you this time.'