The Summer of Secrets

by Barbara Hannay

  Having witnessed her father’s white, tight face, Izzie could understand that, of course, her father was hurting, too. Everyone in the family was hurting, even Jem, but no one else was crying like a baby and making a noisy fuss.

  They were all being brave. For Daddy’s sake …

  ‘All right, I’ll try,’ she said.

  ‘Good girl. Go to the bathroom and wash your face, then get dressed and come down to breakfast. Mrs Phipps has kept some kedgeree especially for you. You missed supper last night and she was sure you’d be hungry.

  At the mention of kedgeree, Izzie realised that she was ravenous and she hurried obediently down the passage to the bathroom, vowing to stop the tears and to be terribly brave.

  To her surprise, the mere thought of being brave made her feel instantly stronger. Being brave was much better than crying and it would probably make Mother, watching from Heaven, proud.

  On that grey and gloomy morning, at the ripe old age of seven, Izzie could feel in her bones that this was a lesson she would carry with her into the future.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ‘This story’s great,’ Finn said. ‘Well done.’

  It was quite late in the day by the time he read Chloe’s piece about the female farmers, but as he turned from his computer screen, the respectful glint in his eyes suggested that his praise was genuine.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, but she looked away quickly, hoping he couldn’t see the heat flooding her face. Surely his praise shouldn’t be so important to her?

  ‘Our sales reps should be able to wrangle a couple of decent ads to support this,’ Finn added. ‘So that should keep Emily happy.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Chloe replied with a wry smile. After all, it was Emily who had employed her.

  Finn closed down his computer. ‘Reckon I’ll call it a day.’ He stood, lifting his arms in an easy, unselfconscious motion above his head as he stretched.

  No doubt he needed to stretch after sitting for so long and the movement should not have absorbed Chloe’s complete attention. She hoped he didn’t notice her checking him out, but his body was surprisingly toned for a man with a drinking problem. She made a business of sorting the papers on her desk.

  ‘Oh, and by the way,’ Finn said as he slipped his phone into a back pocket in his jeans. ‘There’s one thing I’ve been meaning to mention.’ He sounded a bit awkward as he said this, not at all like her usually in-control boss. ‘I – er – normally have a meal at the pub one or two nights a week.’

  ‘Oh?’ Chloe wasn’t quite sure how else to respond, especially as Finn now looked quite uncomfortable.

  He gave an awkward shrug. ‘I get a bit tired of my own cooking.’

  Somehow, she hadn’t imagined Finn living alone and cooking for himself. Even though he seemed to have an issue with alcohol, he had the looks and the alpha-male vibes that usually attracted women in droves.

  ‘So … you don’t have a partner? A – a wife?’ The question seemed to stumble from Chloe, but as soon as it was out she wished she could snatch it back. Only a total airhead would ask something so dumb.

  But it was too late to retract the words and she could see that she’d hit a nerve.

  Finn’s face closed. A muscle twitched close to his jawline. ‘Don’t you know?’ he asked and he sounded suddenly exhausted.

  Know what? She felt sick.

  ‘I lost my wife and son in a terrorist attack in Thailand.’

  Whack.

  Fire exploded in Chloe’s face. Oh, God. She tried to imagine the horror for Finn, but her mind flinched. This was just too awful to contemplate.

  Of course, she should have known about it. Actually, she realised now that she had heard news stories about the terrible incident, but somehow she’d overlooked them when she’d searched the internet for info about her new editor. She’d been so certain, so absolutely convinced that the Burralea Bugle’s Finn Latimer could not possibly be the same man who was the well-known foreign correspondent.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, not quite meeting his gaze. ‘Somehow I – I didn’t put two and two together.’

  ‘Yeah, well.’ He sighed heavily, took out his phone as if he needed a distraction, then frowned and slipped it back into his pocket again. ‘Anyway, that’s why I sometimes eat at the pub.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ She couldn’t begin to understand the depth of his loss. His grief would be overwhelming. He would have no room for anything else.

  Disappointment whispered. And then she was ashamed of herself. She wasn’t looking for anything else either. She wondered what he used to be like before …

  Surely his whole life must feel defined by that tragedy, divided into before and after.

  ‘Anyway, I just thought I’d warn you,’ Finn said and his mouth tilted, showing the barest glimmer of a smile. ‘It might look weird if we’re sitting at opposite ends of the pub’s dining room.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose the locals might notice something like that.’ Chloe was grateful that he had warned her. She might have handled things awkwardly if she’d come down to dinner and found him there. ‘Should I ask Sandra to set two places at my usual table?’

  ‘That’d be great, if it’s fine by you.’

  She managed a small smile. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good. See you around seven-thirty?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He crossed to the door and stood waiting while she dropped her phone and a few pages of notes into her shoulder bag and picked up the jacket she’d left hanging on the back of her chair.

  Finn locked the door and pocketed the keys. ‘Catch you later.’

  They parted on the footpath, walking in opposite directions. Chloe had no idea where Finn lived and she had never asked, but now, of course, her head was swimming with questions.

  It was almost dusk and the temperature had dropped even though the day had been hot and humid. She pulled on her jacket and continued on her way, past the pharmacy and the hairdresser’s. She saw the pink-haired Tammy still working away with her blow-dryer, making yet another elderly client look glamorous.

  According to Moira, Tammy claimed that she had to keep working, even though she was worried out of her mind about her missing boyfriend. She said the work kept her busy and her customers were like family. In their own different ways, they all supported her.

  Chloe reached the Lilly Pilly café and as she did so, Jess emerged, followed by a chorus of cheerful voices calling from the kitchen behind her.

  ‘See you tomorrow, Jess.’

  ‘Goodnight, Jess.’

  ‘Night,’ Jess called back, and she looked happy. No, she looked better than that, she looked really content. As if she’d found her tribe. She grinned at Chloe. ‘Hey there. On your way home?’

  ‘Yep,’ Chloe said. ‘All done for the day.’

  ‘I’m on my way to pick up Willow.’

  ‘How’s she settling in?’

  ‘Beautifully. And the other mums are so friendly. It’s amazing really. A group of them came to the café this morning and Marj gave me time off to sit and have a coffee and a chat with them. They were so nice. So relaxed and friendly. There’s something about country people, isn’t there?’

  Chloe nodded. She’d been impressed by how warm and welcoming the CWA women had been. There’d also been a time in the not-too-distant past when she’d fantasised about being part of a group of mums who went jogging with their prams and met each other for coffee. Actually, she still ached for that dream.

  ‘So, how’s your new job?’ asked Jess.

  ‘Oh, I think I’m finding my feet.’

  ‘By the way.’ Jess stepped closer to Chloe and lowered her voice. ‘I got a gander at your editor when he came in for his coffee. Lucky you.’

  If Chloe had heard this comment a few days ago, she might have set Jess straight by telling her about Finn’s drinking, but everything was different now. She wasn’t sure how the tragedy of Finn’s family was connected to his drinking, but she was certainly prepa
red to cut her boss some slack. She gave an offhand shrug. ‘He’s pretty good to work with.’

  ‘He’s not married either, so I hear,’ Jess added with a knowing smile. ‘So … quite a ride, as they say.’

  Jess, no doubt, wasn’t aware of the reasons for Finn’s single status. ‘That suggestion is wasted on me, Jess. I’m taking a sabbatical from relationships.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ The other girl didn’t look convinced.

  ‘Are you crossing here?’ Chloe nodded towards her destination, the two-storey timber pub on the opposite corner.

  ‘Sure.’

  They waited for a car to pass – just one car, how amazing was that? – and then headed across the wide street together.

  ‘Have you met the paper’s owner yet?’ Jess asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Chloe. ‘She’s lovely. A bit —’ She hesitated.

  ‘Snooty?’

  ‘No, not snooty.’

  ‘Sorry. I’ve only seen her the once, in the café.’

  Chloe had been about to say that Emily Hargreaves was rather reserved, but in a nice way. Now she stopped herself from making even a mild criticism that felt somehow disloyal. ‘Mrs Hargreaves is lovely,’ she said instead. ‘She introduced me to some really good contacts.’

  Jess nodded and asked no more questions. Then, with a grin, she announced, ‘I’m thinking of getting a little second-hand car.’

  ‘Wow. Good for you.’

  They’d reached the main entrance to the pub. ‘I’ll let you know if I end up with wheels,’ Jess said. ‘Maybe we could do a little exploring together.’

  ‘I’d love that.’

  Jess grinned. ‘Me, too. I’ll keep in touch, Chloe. Bye.’

  Chloe came down to the hotel’s dining room a little before seven-thirty. The room had an open fireplace, which was currently filled with potted ferns, but she could imagine it with burning logs in winter, the crackle and dance of bright flames making a pleasant background to the hum of diners’ voices.

  She took a seat at her usual table in the far corner of the long room where she had a view of the two doorways guests could enter through. She wished she didn’t feel nervous about dining with Finn. It couldn’t be all that different from working with him.

  She hadn’t gone overboard, but she’d gone to a little more trouble than usual with her appearance, showering and changing into a brown linen dress, which had the potential to look dowdy, but she liked it anyway. The brown matched her eyes and she’d brightened the neckline with a scarf in autumn tones.

  After filling her water glass, she studied the menu. She knew it pretty much by heart. Tonight she would have the salmon with asparagus and wasabi. She wondered what Finn would choose and guessed that he might want the steak with fries and peppercorn sauce.

  Right on time, Finn arrived. His thick, dark hair looked neat, still damp from the shower, and he’d shaved. Heads turned in his direction. A few of the diners waved to him and he stopped to greet a young man with longish auburn hair and a clerical collar. At another table, he spoke briefly to a rather handsome silver-haired couple.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said to Chloe as he reached her.

  ‘Hi there.’

  She caught a whiff of his aftershave, subtle and spicy, and she couldn’t help smiling. His shirt was brown, almost the exact shade as her dress.

  He looked down at his clothing and then at her with a puzzled smile, a question in his eyes. ‘Something wrong with my shirt?’

  ‘No, no,’ Chloe said. ‘It’s just that we seem to be colour coordinated. White shirts for work, brown at night.’

  Now he looked mildly amused. ‘The things women notice.’

  ‘I know. So trivial.’

  ‘But Brown is also your surname,’ he said. ‘So perhaps that colours your perspective.’

  At this, she rolled her eyes and wished she hadn’t started this weird conversation.

  And now Finn was frowning. ‘It was a lame joke, but it wasn’t that bad, was it?’

  ‘No, you just reminded me of – of something else.’ She fiddled with the paper serviette wrapped around her cutlery. She was digging herself in deeper.

  ‘Something brown? Come on, spill. You’ve got me intrigued.’

  ‘It’s stupid.’ She gave a helpless shake of her head. ‘But I suppose I might as well tell you. I was just remembering this guy I – I used to know – well, live with. His name was Brown too, so we were Jason Brown and Chloe Brown. And right away, on the first night we met, he suggested we should marry and become Mr and Mrs Very Brown.’

  Finn lifted a dark eyebrow. ‘Sounds like a smooth-talking guy.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Way too smooth. Chloe had ended up sleeping with Jason on that very first night.

  ‘Is it too presumptuous to assume that you didn’t marry him?’ Finn asked.

  ‘Dead right. No wedding,’ she said tightly.

  ‘You moved here instead?’ Finn’s dark eyes gleamed and Chloe felt as if he could see right through her.

  But she had no intention of sharing any more about her ex. ‘I moved here because I wanted to expand my horizons.’

  ‘Of course.’

  To Chloe’s relief, Finn was happy enough to turn his attention to their meal selections, which didn’t take long. He was as familiar with the menu as she was.

  ‘I’ll go for the steak with peppercorn sauce,’ he said.

  She bit back another urge to smile. ‘I’d like the salmon.’

  They ordered wine as well. Chloe wondered if Finn might get stuck into the alcohol, but he simply asked for a glass of red while she had white to go with her fish.

  He told her about some of the other diners. The fellow in the clerical collar was a popular young Anglican priest who had worked on cattle properties, and had even been a rodeo clown, before he’d joined the church. The elderly couple were childhood sweethearts who’d only met up again recently. Now they were married and the whole town was delighted.

  ‘So have you interviewed them?’ Chloe asked. ‘Both those stories sound quite fascinating.’

  Finn gave a smiling shake of his head. ‘You have to remember this is a very small town. Not everyone wants their personal life plastered all over the paper.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose so.’ Chloe remembered Emily Hargreaves’ reluctance to have her mother’s story published. ‘I guess the world’s divided into people who are cracking their necks to hit the headlines and those who hate the thought of being in the limelight.’

  ‘And for journos,’ added Finn, ‘there’s the whole issue of finding and publishing the stories that need to be told whether people like it or not.’

  One story Chloe knew people were hanging out for was good news about the missing baker. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to report. The coppers kept running into dead ends.

  ‘I suppose the magnifying glass seems so much bigger in a tiny country town,’ she said.

  ‘Exactly. And it’s not possible to keep everyone happy.’

  ‘My editor used to tell us that if everyone’s happy we’re not doing our job.’

  ‘Wise chap,’ said Finn.

  ‘A woman, actually.’

  His smile held the hint of an apology. ‘Of course.’

  Their meals arrived and Chloe said carefully, as she spread a smear of wasabi over her salmon, ‘It must have been a huge change for you, to come to a tiny paper like the Bugle after reporting on major world events.’

  Finn paused in the process of cutting his steak and gave a small shrug. ‘I guess I’ve joined the folk who want to stay out of the limelight.’

  After everything he’d been through, Chloe could well believe this.

  ‘I just needed to go off grid for a bit,’ he said.

  ‘Back-road therapy.’

  ‘Yeah, more or less.’

  Chloe wondered, though, if Burralea was a bit too quiet for Finn. Were there counsellors here, anyone he could talk to about losing his family? Just keeping to himself couldn’t be healthy. Then s
he realised he was watching her rather keenly and she wondered if he’d surmised that her trek from Sydney was also a form of escape, of retreat. To her relief he didn’t push the matter.

  ‘But you’re right,’ he said instead. ‘Coming here took a huge adjustment. I had real trouble at first finding anything I deemed newsworthy. It was like I needed my eyesight tested, the lenses adjusted.’

  ‘I suppose there are triumphs and tragedies everywhere. It’s just a matter of scale.’

  ‘Well, yeah – and I also had to cut my ego to fit.’ Finn grinned as he said this and he looked so attractive and downright charming, ridiculous flashes shot under Chloe’s skin.

  To her relief, he didn’t notice anything. He was totally focused on talking about work.

  ‘Running the Bugle has been a good lesson, really,’ he said. ‘It’s brought me back to the basics. For any journalist, getting the details right is the important thing, whether it’s Burralea’s Junior Soccer results or a political crisis in Canberra.’

  Chloe admired him for taking this low-key job seriously, even though most of his fellow journalists would have seen it as a major step down.

  She couldn’t help asking, ‘Do you think you’ll stay here?’ But she wondered if she’d gone too far.

  ‘Will you?’ Finn shot the question straight back at her and his eyes gleamed as if he knew she was snookered.

  ‘I —’ Chloe hesitated. With every day she spent in Burralea, she liked the place, the people and her job more and more. She sensed that if she let it, the town could draw her in, encourage her to make deeper connections, to put down roots.

  She had pretty much decided to take up Moira Briggs’s offer of the flat above her office. Moira was happy to keep the arrangement flexible, however. And Chloe still saw this job as a stopgap; a chance to get away and earn a wage until she decided what she really wanted to do with the rest of her life.

  She still longed for motherhood and that damn clock was still ticking, but if she did decide to go solo, there were no fertility clinics in Burralea. Then there was the whole issue of Finn’s drinking. She had no idea whether it would resurface and cause her problems.