Page 2 of Gum Tree Gully

‘No, you don’t,’ Shea retorted.

Angus leapt behind the wheel and three willing passengers piled into the back seat. Unable to hold Shea’s worried gaze any longer, Samantha looked away. Revving the muscle car to growling life, Angus spun the wheels in showcase fashion, to the cheers of some, but not all, of the partygoers. As they fishtailed away, Samantha turned in her seat, wishing she’d had the guts to tell Angus to get stuffed, and instead stayed with her friends. But it was too late now. As Shea, Jack and Connor’s worried faces quickly faded in the taillights, she accepted her stupid decision and settled back with a suddenly heavy heart.

Tugging her seatbelt on, she made sure it was locked into place. This night wasn’t fun at all anymore. In fact, it suddenly felt very very bad. Her gut reaction in that moment of clarity was to tell Angus to pull over so she could get out, but then she shoved the spine-chilling sensation off. She didn’t want to upset him any more than he already was. She didn’t want another argument – tonight was all about celebrating. She’d been working towards this moment for twelve long years and talking about their highschool graduation party for what felt like forever. And now, in the blink of an eye, it was almost over. But not just yet; there were still a few more hours before the sun would rise on the first day of the rest of her life. And she was going to do her best to relish every second until then. So, twisting in her seat so she could keep one eye on the road and the other on Angus, she tried to be her usual carefree self. After all, with almost every girl at Gum Tree Gully High vying for his attention this past year, she felt lucky he’d remained true to their relationship.

Raucous, drunken laughter of familiar yet unacquainted fellow teenagers filled the back seat and carried into the front, as did a joint. Taking a decent draw, Angus passed it clockwise. Shocked, Samantha declined – drugs weren’t her thing at all, and neither had they been Angus’s, until now. Or not that she had known of. It would be a conversation for tomorrow, when he’d sobered up. When they’d sobered up. Their breaths lingered in a cannabis cloud that twirled in lazy circles, and she tried her best not to breathe it in, but it was hard with all the windows up. She hoped she didn’t reek of it when she arrived home – her dad would be livid, and she wouldn’t blame him. Outside, the world spun in a phantasmagoria of colours and images, too many drinks now making her feel woozy. Or maybe it was the second-hand marijuana? Nausea abruptly gripped her. Tight. Her stomach cramped and swirled. Oh god. Was she about to throw up? Angus would kill her if she heaved her dinner all over the interior of his beloved car. Momentarily squeezing her eyes shut, she breathed through the queasiness as Angus tore around the snug curves of the outskirts of the small North Queensland township, sending the back end of the car sideways. One too many times.

Terrified for her life, she gripped the sides of her seat. She couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer. ‘Angus, slow down, please.’ Her plea fell on deaf ears. ‘Angus!’ But he wasn’t listening to her.

He floored the accelerator as they hit the straight, and the rickety old bridge above the creek they all swam in during the scorching summer months rumbled beneath the hot rod. The inky darkness, broken only by the beam of the headlights, suddenly became suffocating. She breathed faster, shallower, then almost forgot to. Waylon and Johnny’s honky-tonk voices boomed from the speakers, and the three travellers in the back sung the lyrics way out of tune, cans of rum and cola raised.

She was about to demand that Angus pull over so she could get out when her breath caught as a kangaroo shot out from the scrub and bounded across the road in front of them. She watched with wide eyes as it narrowly defied death. Swerving to miss the springing mass of muscle, Angus fought to stay between the white lines, all to congratulatory cheers from the back seat when he eventually regained control. But then headlights suddenly appeared over the hill and a male voice enthusiastically proclaimed a dare from the back seat. To Samantha’s horror, Angus eagerly accepted the game of chicken with the oncoming car. Petrified, she begged him not to be so stupid, but he still wouldn’t listen to her.

Then it all happened within a matter of seconds.

Time suspended.

She held her breath.

Her terrified gaze met the approaching, familiar-looking sedan.

It couldn’t be?

Please god, no.

‘Anguuuuus … ’ Her cry resonated. ‘Nooooooooooo!’

The car swerved to the opposite side of the road, the V8 engine roaring like a wild beast when the accelerator was once again slammed to the floor. The oncoming car flashed its headlights to high beam. Once. Twice. The approaching driver pushed the horn intermittently, and then strongarmed it to an incessant blast that echoed through the night. The oncoming headlights grew bigger, brighter. Fast, way too fast. The jovial atmosphere cracked and crumbled. Fear sliced through the air. Sharp. Intense. Headlights met. Blinded. People cried out, screamed. Angus lost control and in a moment of grace that defied the imminent tragedy, the tyres no longer gripped the road and the hot-rod spun in dizzying circles. Samantha clung to what she could, preparing herself for the inescapable as Angus fought with the steering wheel.

Seconds felt like hours.

With nowhere else to go, the oncoming car veered onto the gravel bank. Connecting with the guardrail, it trailed sparks before catapulting through the air, flipping three times and coming to rest in an open paddock on its roof, tyres still spinning. A millisecond later the hot-rod slammed into one of the towering paperbark trees with a horrendous grinding crunch, wrapping itself around the trunk as if moulded for it, the twisted metal ripping the bark open like flesh. A body flew through the windscreen and landed in a mass of blood and shattered limbs. A vast empty space now sat where the star-studded sky used to be.

And other than Waylon and Johnny’s voices, there was spine-chilling silence.

CHAPTER

2

London – 11 years later

Once upon a time, in another time, another place, Samantha Evans had believed in happily-ever-afters. Untroubled by what might lie ahead of her, she’d roamed and ridden the endless stretches of sun-baked land beneath a wide Aussie outback sky, her soul as wild as her chaotic hair, and her spirit as free as the wind. But in the blink of an eye, her entire world had been flipped on its head. She’d been left behind by almost everyone she held dear, and been left questioning her threadbare existence to the point of collapse. Her very right to walk the earth felt immoral. Everything changed, everyone looked at her differently. Every moment, every breath, hurt. In a matter of days, she lost the will to eat, to laugh, to live, and she all but gave up on ever feeling joy or peace or hopefulness again.

But then, in that impulsive, breathless moment, beneath the star-studded sky, he’d gone and sparked something inside of her. Like a match meeting red phosphorus, the volatility of his touch had ignited a part of herself where she hadn’t felt ready to feel such vivacious life. And she wasn’t sure she ever would again because she truly believed she didn’t have the right to. That, him, the thought of there being a them, had terrified her. So she did all she was capable of at that point in her life and ran as fast and as far as she could, and never dared look back. For damn good reason. He was someone she could never go to that special place with. Not again. No matter how much she had wanted to remain there for the reprieve his kisses and caresses gave from her heartbreak. Because it was wrong of her. And of him. So wrong she hadn’t told another soul. Not even Shea knew she had lost her virginity that night, to Angus’s brother. She’d been too ashamed to speak of it at the time. And as time passed, she’d allowed herself to pretend it had never happened in the first place, so telling Shea would just bring it all flooding back. In the grand scheme of things, her escape strategy had worked, had in some way numbed the pain by hiding it way down deep, beneath the fractured pieces of herself so she could function in a somewhat normal way, so she could move on. Or at least pretend to. Fake it till you make it, and all that.

But now, finding herself frozen to the spot, with her heart beating in her throat and her reading glasses perched on her freckle-dusted nose, Samantha stared at the text message until the words went blurry with tears. What was Shea thinking? Did her dear friend really believe she had the strength to be able to go back to the very place she’d run from? Her shaky hand instinctively went to the beginning of the scar that snaked its way from her collarbone, down her chest and beneath her left breast as the ground almost gave way beneath her stilettoes. Slowly shaking her head, she only stopped her knees from buckling by resting her hip against her desk. Looking out at the cityscape view, she reminded herself to breathe in. Hold for the count of four. Then breathe out. Slowly. Measuredly. Methodically. It gave her back a sense of control and calm. Then, and only then, having gathered what bits of herself she could, she blinked faster and brought Shea’s words back into focus.

Hey Sammie, I’ve tried calling you a couple of times this week and left a few voice messages for you to get back to me, too. What’s going on girlfriend? I hope you’re okay? I didn’t want to do this in a text, but, seeing as I can’t get a hold of you, and I’m running out of time, here goes! Jack and I have decided to have a shotgun wedding, in four weeks’ time, and I want you to be my maid of honour! I know it will be a huge step for you, coming back here, but maybe it’s time to take that leap of faith? I know you’re ready, you just have to believe it yourself, my beautiful friend. We can do this together. I promise. Love you heaps. Xx

Realising she was holding her breath, again, Samantha inhaled sharply. As selfish as she knew it was, she’d been dreading this day since Shea and Jack had announced their engagement, but hadn’t expected it to be so, for lack of a better word, impulsive. She’d hoped – since the pair had been together since they were teenagers, and engaged for the past seven years, with a five-year-old to contend with – they might have decided to elope. Just like she and Benjamin had. Or at the very least, go to the local registry office. Anything but have a big shindig. In Gum Tree Gully of all places. Oh. My. Goodness. Breathe in. Hold. Breath out.

Get a hold of yourself, Evans …

She hated herself for feeling like this, when her soul ached to be beside her best friend on her special day. Because she loved and missed Shea like crazy. Being asked to be an integral part of the bridal party was such an honour, and any normal human being would be excited, but for Samantha, she wasn’t normal, and it wasn’t that simple. Nothing in her life had ever been. Saying yes would mean returning to the one place she’d avoided for over a decade. Hence the reason Shea and Jack had taken four trips to London and then any holidays they could all swing anywhere in the world but Australia. She knew Shea had done her fair share of keeping in touch, of showing how much she cared. Samantha also knew that saying no would hurt her best friend beyond belief. Of that, she was certain. And she couldn’t, wouldn’t, blame her.

She was a few months shy of turning thirty, and she’d learnt the hard way that leaving her heartbreaking past behind was an impossible task. No matter how fast she ran, or how far, no matter what or who she tried to barricade herself behind, the shadows were always there, lurking at the next obscure corner to taunt her all over again, ready to drag her under to that deep dark place she might one day never be able to climb out of. That frightened her. And now, on top of having to think about possibly returning to Gum Tree Gully, it made matters worse that her present situation right here was slapping her hard and sharp in the face and heart, too. Nothing was going to plan. Maybe she deserved it. Was this her comeuppance? Why should she be able to live her life to the full, when so many had theirs taken away that horrific night?

The memories of the crash came at her. Full force. She sunk to her office chair before she crumpled to the floor. The screams, the crunching of metal, it was like it had happened yesterday. Her aching heart slipped further with the grim recollections. If only she could call on her parents. They’d love the hurt right out of her and guide her in the right direction. Just like they always had when she was a child. God rest their souls.

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