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Well, I never … Samantha didn’t need to be a lip-reader to understand what the gossipmonger had just whispered. Yes, I never thought I’d see the likes of her again either … the blabbermouth replied.
‘Sam, are you okay?’ Janet turned to catch the two women still whispering. ‘Oh, for goodness sake, you two busybodies, don’t you have anything better to do than gossip all the time.’
Two sets of brows shot to matching tightly permed purple-hued hair. ‘Well, I never.’ Mrs Gossipmonger tutted again. ‘It’s a free world, Janet, I’ll have you know.’
‘Yes, I know, Hillary, but how about keeping whatever it is you have to say to yourself,’ Janet said calmly. ‘And as for you, Gertrude, it’s like the blind leading the blind.’
‘You need to control your wife, Jonathon,’ Mrs Blabbermouth spat before trotting off with Mrs Gossipmonger hot on her heels.
Shaking his head, Johnathon guffawed cynically. ‘There’s always one, or two, in a country town, hey.’
Turning back to Samantha, Janet placed a hand back on her arm. ‘Don’t let people like that upset you, darling.’ Her soft voice and gentle touch were reassuring. ‘Their lives are so pathetically boring that gossiping is, woefully, all they find pleasure in.’
Blinking faster, Samantha pressed her trembling lips together as Janet’s kind, wise words hung heavily in the air. Then, fighting the urge to run for the safety of her car, she forced a wobbly smile. ‘Well, I best get going, it was so nice to run into you both.’
‘Okay then.’ Regarding her with concerned kindness, Jonathon nodded. ‘Enjoy your stay, won’t you.’
‘Yes, I’ll certainly try to,’ Samantha said with one last wobbly smile, before vanishing out the sliding doors.
Stifling air and bright sunshine met her when she strode back outside, over to her car and basically threw herself into the haven of it. Gripping the steering wheel, she took a few deep breaths. Her shock and fear quickly morphed into anger. How dare those two fuddy-duddies make her the topic of their conversation. She wasn’t behind the wheel. She hadn’t forced Angus to do what he did. She was the one who’d lost so much that night. Where did they get off? She almost stormed back into the shop to tell them just as much but stopped herself. It wasn’t worth her wasted breath. The only thing she had control over was her reactions to actions. And she wasn’t about to give them more to talk about. So, after revving the car to life, she turned the radio up, backed out of her parking spot and sung her heart out to the old-school country songs as she headed towards her home for the next couple of weeks.
Ten minutes later she was turning down a comfortingly familiar dirt road. So much had happened along here. Good, and bad. She had come off her pushbike countless times and nursed gravel rash for weeks, she’d learnt how to drive, had experienced her first kiss with Angus, had foolishly given all of herself to Connor beneath the starry sky. What had they been thinking? Or was it more the case that they hadn’t been thinking at all?
CHAPTER
5
Arriving at the front gates of Shea and Jack’s free-range egg farm, Lotsa-Love-Layers, she pulled to a stop, and got out to open the gate. It swung open in a sweeping arc, as if inviting her into the lush green landscape beyond. Rolling the rental car forward in neutral, she tugged the handbrake on, then made sure to latch the gate closed behind her. Gravel crunched beneath the tyres as she slowly made her way towards the homestead that had become her haven in the weeks after her parents had died. Without a second’s hesitation, Shea’s mother had taken her under her wing, and patiently gotten her through the worst, god bless her loving soul. Mavis Davis was yet another soul taken way too soon. Damn cancer. She drew in a breath in a bid to fight off the swirling of guilt in her stomach – she should have come back for Mavis’s funeral. And when Shea’s father had left with a woman from Tasmania two years later, to start another family, she should have come back to console her friend. Regrets were futile – she had to try and make up for it all now.
The land dipped, then rose again as she drove through the heart of the mini mango orchard, past the huge chicken shed, then towards the stables. It was so lush, so green here, it was if the countryside was begging her to climb aboard a magnificent horse and gallop through it. If only she could remember how to ride a horse like she’d stolen it. Only one way to find out, she supposed. Lost in the beauty surrounding her, she caught her breath when she spotted the sprawling white house with its wide hugging verandahs, perfect to kick back on with a cuppa, surrounded by a plethora of colourful flowers – clambering bougainvillea, Bangkok rose bushes, scented frangipanis and rambling roses, and the huge water tank they used to drink from as kids towering on one side. Ever since she’d become best friends with Shea in Grade 1, this majestic place had been like her second home. And it felt good to be back. Too good, almost.
Parking beneath the canopy of the booming jacaranda tree she and Shea had climbed as children while pretending they were Indians on the lookout for cowboys, she stepped out, leaving her luggage for later, a little wobbly in her low heels. The old tyre swing still dangled from a reliable branch, albeit much higher than she recalled. Taking a moment to breathe it all in deeply, she smelt the hints of the plump mangoes hanging heavily upon weary branches, horse manure – a smell she’d always liked – and the sun-baked North Queensland earth. A wistful smile tugged at her lips. There was a sense of hope in the air, of life promising to burst forward. Being in the country was like moving closer to Mother Nature’s heart; the rhythm she felt here was unlike the pulse of the city, frantic with human activity, but instead was the strong steady beat of the living, breathing countryside she now stood upon.
Her mobile chimed from the depth of her handbag, startling her. The noise was like a smoke alarm going off at three in the morning, instantly ruining the peace and quiet she was immersed in. Uncharacteristically, she decided to ignore it. For now. That’s what message bank was for. If it were important, they’d leave a voice mail. Wouldn’t they? Or would they? She almost, almost, grabbed it and stabbed the answer button. Oh, stuff it. Feeling a little naughty, she shook her head at her impulsive rashness. Good god, where was the meticulous woman who’d stepped on the plane three days ago? It was as if the country air was already getting rid of the rigid parts of her. She climbed the front steps, her heels clomping over the timber boards as she headed towards the front door. From inside the house, she could hear footsteps racing down the hallway towards her.
The screen door squeaked open and welcoming arms shot towards her. ‘Oh, my goodness, Sammie, I can’t believe you’re actually here.’ Shea squealed and jiggled on the spot.
‘Hey, Shea.’ As she was crushed within her childhood friend’s hug, a smile Samantha hadn’t felt for ages spread spontaneously across her face. ‘It’s so nice to see you.’ And it really, truly was.
‘Nice?’ Shea stepped back and her hands went to her hips. ‘Nice?’ She repeated herself jestingly. ‘How about amazing, or awesome, or how about bloody fantastic!’
Laughing, Samantha nodded. ‘A big fat yes, to all of that, and more.’
‘Far out, Sammie, I’ve missed you.’ The thick glasses perched on her petite nose made Shea’s brown eyes appear as big as saucers.
Reaching out, Samantha squeezed Shea’s arm. ‘I’ve missed you, too, bestie, so much.’
‘Come in and let me and Jack fuss over you.’ Hooking her arm into the crook of Samantha’s, Shea tugged her inside. ‘Thank goodness for Facebook and Instagram, huh, otherwise we’d never know what was going on with each other’s lives.’
Guilt pinched Samantha, mighty hard. ‘So sad, but also so true.’ The scent of what she could only describe as coming home greeted her, instantly taking her back eleven years. ‘Oh, my goodness, I feel like I’ve never left,’ she said, glancing down the hallway then up to the open-beamed ceilings.
‘Yeah.’ Shea glanced around, too, as if viewing the homestead through new eyes. ‘I’ve tried to keep it the same, you know, since mum passed.’
Samantha fought to blink the image of Shea’s mum, apron on and smile wide, from her mind – she didn’t want to cry as soon as she’d arrived. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t make it back for the funeral.’
‘Don’t apologise, I totally get it.’ Shea offered a compassionate glance, filled with so much understanding. ‘The fact that matters the most is that you’re here now, though, my darling friend.’ She tugged her forward. ‘Now, come with me to the heart of the house, because have I got a surprise for you.’
Oh, crap, Samantha silently thought, please don’t let it be Connor …
