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Now, almost four hours into her trip westward, she was starting to feel as though she was as far off the beaten track as she could get, although she knew this was a figment of her imagination – thousands of miles still separated her from the tip of Australia. Barely avoiding a lone kangaroo that seemed to appear out of nowhere, she released a few more hearty swearwords as she fought to steady her erratic breathing. Returning to Australia had her potty-mouth returning, too. Ha, go figure. The near miss made her ease off the accelerator as she remembered that livestock quite often used this road as a fairway. She didn’t want be responsible for hurting an animal, or god forbid, losing control of her car. Long-gone memories of that fateful night tried to grip her heart tight, but she fought the sensation off. Crossing over the first of three bridges, she spotted the beady eyes of the resident crocodile eyeing her off from the banks. The four-metre beast, nicknamed Chompers, had become a legend round these parts – drawing many a tourist from their car to take photos from the safe viewpoint of the purpose-built platform. He’d been close to thirty-five years old when she’d lived here, making him well into his naughty forties now.
Staring past the dangling pine-tree air freshener, she saw the familiar line of telegraph poles that guided her in the direction of Gum Tree Gully. Stifling a yawn, she glanced at her watch – just under twenty minutes to go before she arrived in the main part of the little township. Her belly backflipped and her pulse quickened. How was she going to feel, seeing her old stomping grounds again? After the days and months had become years, and the years had become over a decade, she’d truly believed she would never set a foot back here ever again, but here she was, defying the odds.
Look at me go!
And then, in the blink of an eye, she was almost at that horrid place. Although she was doing her utmost best to stay upbeat, long-buried grief threatened to rise to the surface and drag her under. Her soul swirled with a mixture of memories, both blissful and wretched. She’d lost three loves of her life among the six dead, in one breath, one last heartbeat. Her boyfriend and her parents –as well as Angus’s three friends – had been here one minute, then bam, they were gone. Just like that. Her trauma counsellor’s advice had been that she needed to try and let the anger go. Yeah, right. It wasn’t that easy. In fact, it was damn near impossible. So, instead, she’d ignored the evil beast of resentment and blame scratching at her soul and tried to get on with life as best she could.
And once again, just look at me go … what a mess I’ve made of it all.
Her heart began to race, and her palms grew sweaty. She tried to swallow down the fear, but her mouth was drier than the Simpson Desert. Pulling to a stop at the T-junction that had changed all their lives forever, she took a moment to realise how tightly she was gripping the steering wheel. Haunting images came at her, for her, sickening her. The sounds of the screeching tyres, the bloodcurdling screams, the last, conclusive, lethal crunch of metal echoed in her head. She heard her whimpers as she’d come to, felt her panic as she’d tried to move and couldn’t. Her desperation for any sound of life in a dark, sinking, silent world. Her breath caught. Her nerves fired to life. Her resolve began to unravel. The terrible crushing grief, the deep sense of loss, and the guilt that came with that, threatened to return full force, so it could engulf her as it once had.
‘Damn it.’ She bent forward and rested her head against the steering wheel, taking deep breaths. ‘You got this, Samantha, you got this.’ She repeated this, silently, another two times, or was it three, before she straightened and stared at her reflection in the rear-vision mirror. ‘You’ve come too far to turn back now. Keep going. You can, and will, get through this. You must, for Shea.’
She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let her past sink its fangs in deep. The beast had almost destroyed her once – she wasn’t about to let the feral creature have a second chance. The familiar cold sinking feeling pressed down upon her, but she used every bit of resolve to shake it off. It did her no good, going back to the past. Her haunting memories might chase her, when she was tired, or lacking willpower, but she was tougher, faster … she could hide behind the life she’d built, if she had to, for these next few weeks. No matter the cost to her heart. It was already broken anyway, so what harm would a few more cracks do? She couldn’t change what had happened, no matter how much she wanted to. Bearing this in mind, she firmly told herself she hadn’t been the one at the wheel. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been the only one to survive.
If only she could wholeheartedly believe it.
Remembering what her many therapists had taught her over the years about being present in the moment, she consciously made a choice to think about anything other than that horrific night. She took a swig from her water bottle. Screwed her face up as the lukewarm water rolled down her throat. She wound her window down. Turned the radio up. Sang the lyrics of the INXS song ‘New Sensation’ out loud. Anything to keep a firm grasp on her deliberations as she turned left and went from first, to second, to third, to fourth gear. Doing eighty k, she briefly noted the old sign announcing she’d arrived at the outskirts of Gum Tree Gully, broadcasting that the township had a whopping population of three and a half thousand – it now had a few more people and a few more bullet holes in it. Some things never changed. In a town as small as this one, things stayed stuck as they were. It was how the locals liked it. She’d been like them once.
It was time to pull herself together. Turning the radio back down, she sat up straighter. Just up ahead, the township appeared like a mirage on a heated road. The very first building she came across made her cringe. It would have been the health-food business she was going to run with her parents, but was now a lolly shop, The Sweet Emporium. Talk about a slap to the face. Remaining resolute, she stuck to the forty k an hour limit down the main street. As she slowed to a halt at a pedestrian crossing, an older bloke tipped the brim of his hat in a good-natured salute to her stopping. She flashed him a smile in response to his show of country hospitality. Such a small gesture, yet it lifted her spirits tenfold.
Cruising past a row of shops, she noted the number of four-wheel drives parked out the front of the pub she used to frequent for a game of pool or a delicious counter meal. Just on five, it was beer o’clock. Picturing the old blokes sitting around the bar inside, nursing cold beers and exchanging stories of days gone by, the weather or how the world was being tugged out by its roots, she smiled softly – there was something to be said for the casualness of a true-blue Aussie pub. She bet nothing much had changed inside – not that she was planning on finding out.
She couldn’t help but wonder if one of the dusty trucks was his. Her stomach pitched with the thought of seeing him in the busy beer garden, drink in hand and his easygoing smile on his face. She fought the urge to gawk to confirm his presence, or lack thereof. The crazy sensation in her stomach told her it was going to take more guts than she’d first thought to see Connor Gunn again. At least at the wedding there would be loads of people around, which hopefully meant the conversation wouldn’t be going anywhere near what they’d done. And as for the preparations leading up to the big day, she would keep any encounter with Connor businesslike, cordial and to the point.
Get in, enjoy Shea and Jack’s special day, then get out – that was her plan of action.
But first up, a growing onslaught of cramps meant an unwanted pit stop at the local IGA. She hadn’t thought to pack any feminine hygiene products, given the fact she’d only had use for them ten days ago. Her period was seriously out of whack lately. Stress, her doctor had told her. No kidding, she’d replied dryly. Parking next to a Holden ute that had more tailgate stickers than metal, and enough aerials to contact outer space, she killed the engine. Like a private investigator scoping the area out, she sunk down in her seat and scanned the footpath, making sure no faces were familiar, before stepping out and dashing towards the sliding front doors. The late-afternoon heat pressed down upon her back and the air-conditioning slapped her in the face the minute she stepped within the hustle and bustle. As it was the only grocery store for miles, it was understandably busy. Keeping her gaze downwards, she hustled along then headed down the health and beauty aisle. Supplies in hand, she made a beeline for the tills. Almost out without being noticed, she froze to the spot when a voice came from behind her.
‘Samantha Evans, is that really you?’
Oh crap … She could pick that sweet singsong voice anywhere.
Spinning around, she came face to face with Janet Vine. ‘Oh, hey.’ Crow’s-feet and salt-and-pepper hair had replaced the youthful vigour and jet-black locks of her much-loved high school music teacher.
‘Oh, my goodness, it really is you.’ Her hand pressing upon her chest, Janet turned and looked over her shoulder. ‘Jonathon, darling, look, it’s Samantha.’ She pointed to her.
His glasses perched on the tip of his nose, her old woodwork teacher and the man who’d been her father’s best friend longer than she’d been alive came for her, his arms wide open. ‘Sammie, oh my.’ He pulled her to him and hugged her like a boa constrictor. ‘It’s so wonderful to see you.’
Feeling like a deer in headlights, Samantha caught her breath when he stepped back. ‘It’s good to see you both too,’ she said, her smile a little trembly.
Reaching out, Janet placed a gentle hand on her arm. ‘We had no idea you were in town.’
Samantha instantly felt bad for not telling the people who mattered. There weren’t many – but Janet and Jonathon were certainly two of the few. ‘Oh, yes, well, I only just got here.’
‘Lovely.’ Janet smiled warmly. ‘How long are you here for?’
‘A couple of weeks.’ Realising she had a packet of heavy flow pads in her hands, she tried to place them in a more private position, behind her back. ‘I flew over for Shea’s wedding,’ she added, hastily.
Janet nodded, her smile widening. ‘Oh yes, isn’t it fabulous that the pair have finally decided to make it official.’
Spotting an elderly woman staring from the vegetable section, her brows furrowed and arms folded tightly, Samantha took only a few more seconds to realise who she was – the town’s biggest gossip, and her mother’s archenemy because of it. Hillary Stern hadn’t aged well.
‘It sure is fabulous they’re getting married, finally.’ Her reply was distant, and her face must have conveyed her discomfort because Jonathon’s concerned gaze quickly followed hers.
‘Oh, here we go.’ Jonathon said with an almighty huff. ‘The two tittle-tattles of the town.’
Samantha remained silent as she fought to breathe, watching wide-eyed as Gum Tree Gully’s aptly nicknamed Mrs Gossipmonger leant into the notorious Mrs Blabbermouth standing beside her, both women’s hard-hitting, judgmental gazes honed in on their topic of conversation. Samantha.
