by Janine Grey
‘And you?’ Eliza turned to Maggie.
‘Every man in town wants to marry Maggie,’ Rae put in slyly.
Maggie shrugged. ‘The problem is I’m never sure if it’s the woman they want or the baked goods.’
From the muffins Mick had brought, it was clear the woman had formidable skills in the kitchen.
‘I’d forget my vow of singledom and marry you if you baked for me every day,’ Rae told Maggie. ‘Although my boy Ryan might not be too happy about that. He’s a kitchenhand in Brisbane and he caught a bit of a crush on Maggie when he was here in the autumn,’ she explained.
‘A kitchenhand?’ Eliza said. ‘Could be a match made in heaven, Maggie.’
‘Sadly, he’s a little young.’
Rae sighed. ‘Shame you’re not staying on, Eliza. You fit right in, despite your fancy clothes and manners. And I mean that in a nice way. I’d love to wear the things you do.’
‘Well, thanks, I think? But I’ve got a flat in Sydney, and then there’s work . . . and my friends.’
‘And who’d want to change Sydney for Helton and this hopeless lot, right?’ Chris said as she dashed past with two foaming schooners.
Eliza looked around at the humming crowd. In a weird way, she’d had a better time here with a bunch of virtual strangers, a bottle of average bubbly and a burger with the lot than she’d ever had in the ritzy restaurants she and George used to eat at.
When she headed home an hour later, she was in lighter spirits than she’d felt all day. She hadn’t quite put Fingal McLeod from her thoughts but she was working on it.
*
Leonard Twomey sucked in his belly as he waited in reception to be called in to the meeting. He felt like a trussed chicken in his business attire. His belt cut him in half and his tie was like a noose, but his discomfort was as much about the chief as his choice of wardrobe.
Charles Bannister didn’t suffer anyone gladly; fools he suffered not at all. Long and thin, with a blade of a nose, and tongue and eyes to match, he wasn’t a man you messed with. Still, freelancers had to go where the work was, and Twomey reckoned Bannister wouldn’t have called him back unless he had a job for him. Tearing a strip off was left to the minions.
In any case, the chief had no reason to tear a strip off. Twomey was only carrying out orders. He’d dealt with Daly, as briefed, and had got the lowdown on McLeod. He’d even used his initiative with that rusty death-trap of a ladder to encourage McLeod to accept Bannister’s offer for the land.
McLeod should have leapt at the offer. It wasn’t his fault the guy hadn’t.
It was up to Bannister what happened next. Twomey thought Bannister should sit tight, wait for McLeod to figure out he was on a hiding to nowhere and take the money. But Bannister was an impatient bastard. Most likely he would want to up the ante.
A phone rang and the secretary took a call. When she’d finished, she looked up with an aloof smile.
‘Mr Bannister is ready for you now,’ she said.
He mentally girded his loins and followed her through the double doors.
*
Fin lit the camp fire that night for the first time since Eliza. He sat in the deck chair, brooding over his beer. Two days had passed since she’d gone – since he’d driven her out – except she hadn’t gone at all. She was snuggled up with him in the sleeping bag at night, twining her body around his. She was laughing as he scraped his charred breakfast toast, she was looking ready for anything in her borrowed hard hat when he donned his each morning.
A couple of times, he’d even heard her car on the track and had gone bolting to meet her only to find nothing but an empty landscape.
Getting up, he kicked a displaced twig back into the fire. If they were together, how would it work? He couldn’t and wouldn’t ask Eliza to camp out with him for weeks on end, even though he was beginning to think there was nothing to his theory about a connection between the ladder, Blue’s death and Pauly’s sudden disappearance.
It was no reflection on her. Though she was clearly used to the finer things in life, she’d watched his routine and had tried to follow it. She’d collected firewood, cooked and eaten the very basic meals that his supplies allowed, and had worked steadily alongside him in the mine. And, he had to admit, the way she’d reorganised the camp had been a stroke of genius. But three days were only three days. Three weeks or three months out here was another matter altogether. Even Helton was pretty basic for a girl like Eliza.
If he was honest, Fin was starting to think that it wasn’t a long-term option for anyone to work like this for days on end. Was there a way for him to take at least one full day off in Helton each week? There would be a cost in terms of accommodation and downtime that he’d need to figure out, but if it prevented him from burning out, he had to consider it.
He’d ask around when he next went into town. Mick knew everyone – and everything that went on – he’d be the place to start. In any case, Fin had to mail a letter to Mairi, along with a couple more photos he’d taken. Jerry would read them out to her. Whether or not anything he wrote or photographed resonated, he wasn’t sure, but it made him feel like he was staying in touch.
Jerry probably bent Mairi’s ear every time Fin wrote, complaining about the fact that he was at the mine and not with Mairi. The bloke could be like an old woman, the way he carried on, but Fin was of more use trying to secure her future than fussing over her when most of the time she didn’t even know who he was.
So he’d write another letter and hope that —
He frowned, remembering that he’d picked up some mail the day he’d been in Helton with Eliza. What the hell had he done with it? He put down his beer and went to his paperwork stash, but the mail wasn’t there. A full search of the camp site revealed nothing. The last time he remembered having it was when Eliza had been driving him back from town. He swore, wondering what the odds were that his mail was somewhere in her rental, which she’d probably already returned. Hell!
He could only hope that she or someone had found them and put them back in the mail. It would give him an excuse to call her. He would hear her voice. Before she cut him off, he’d hear her voice.
*
Rae looked delighted when Eliza told her she wanted to extend her rental on Treloars Cottage.
‘I’ve postponed my flight,’ she explained, hoping she didn’t look as shell-shocked as she felt. ‘I’d like the cottage for another month.’
‘Anything to do with a certain opal miner?’ Rae asked slyly.
‘Nothing at all. It’s for business reasons mostly.’
It wasn’t quite the truth but fortunately another customer had interrupted and Eliza had taken the opportunity to slip away.
She had woken early that morning and sat outside with her coffee. As day had dawned, so had the realisation that, in fact, there was nothing urgent that required her attention in Sydney. If Fin had asked her to stay on a while, she would have. So why not stay on just because she wanted to? There was a practical advantage to the Helton location – one of the cases referred by Lincoln Bassett might require hands-on investigation just over the border in Queensland – but the truth of it was she just wasn’t ready to leave.
Surprisingly, she actually liked small-town life. Treloars Cottage, being on the edge of town, gave her all the privacy she wanted. At this stage she wasn’t well-known enough for people to drop by en masse.
Mick had called in again, bringing with him a gift of chocolate brownies, fragrant and warm from Maggie’s café, and Rae had stopped by wanting advice on an online clothes purchase. And that was it.
When she wanted company, all she had to do was wander ten minutes up the street to be right in the heart of things. Chris was almost always at the pub to pass the time of day with, and no one seemed to have anything but genuine interest in her wellbeing. There was a little good-natured prying and poking as she’d expected, but if anyone was aware of her scandalous past, they hadn’t mentioned it.
It was
both a relief and a timely reminder that she wasn’t the centre of the universe. In fact, there were people in town with far more colourful histories than hers, Mick’s wife apparently being one. According to Chris, there was speculation that she was on the run from the law, so rarely did she show up in town, or had another family stashed away up north. Whatever the truth, Mick certainly seemed reluctant to discuss her.
Despite Eliza’s self-talk about not getting too settled, she had chosen a selection of water-wise perennials for the garden to be delivered via mail order. They wouldn’t arrive for another week so she couldn’t very well leave before they were planted, could she?
Pleased to have extended the lease, she sent a brief text to Charlotte to tell her she wouldn’t be back in the city as planned, due to ‘work opportunities’. Then she grabbed a shopping basket and was making her way up the street when the phone rang.
‘It’s Fin,’ the voice said when she answered, and her heart missed a beat. ‘McLeod.’
‘I know.’ Eliza cleared her throat. She’d recognise his voice anywhere.
‘Are you in Sydney?’
‘No, I’m in Helton. I decided to stay for a while. Why?’ She held her mobile unnecessarily tight.
‘I left some mail in your car, I think,’ he told her. ‘Do you have the same rental?’
Her hand loosened on the phone and her heart sank. ‘Yes. I’ll have a look when I get home. Do you want me to call you back?’
‘No, don’t worry. I’m coming into town later. I’ll find you.’
Eliza stood stock-still on the side of the street, staring at her phone, until a passing car gave a friendly blast of its horn. She saw it was one of the women who worked in the hotel. She raised a hand and smiled.
He just wanted his mail.
If he wanted anything else, he was too late.
CHAPTER 11
Fin took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh to shake off the dust before ducking into the pub. All the way into town, he’d told himself it was just a matter of collecting his post and walking away. Nothing to it. But the way he was sweating had little to do with the heat, and a whole lot to do with Eliza Mayberry.
‘Fin,’ Chris said as he walked up to the bar. ‘Beer?’
‘Maybe later. I’m looking for Eliza Mayberry.’
Chris’s glance turned speculative. ‘Oh, Eliza’s not staying here. She’s taken Old Pauly’s place at the other end of town. Treloars Cottage. It’s the whitewashed place with the green shutters.’
‘I know it. I’ll be back for that beer in a bit.’
He left his vehicle outside the pub and walked, thinking he’d use the time to get a grip, but by the time he reached Treloars Cottage, he felt like the last of his control had slipped away.
She opened the door almost before he’d rapped on it. Those blue eyes met his and held, and Fin knew he was sunk.
‘I found your mail,’ she said, her voice husky. ‘It had slipped down the side of the passenger seat. It’s in the kitchen. Come in.’
She turned away just as he reached for her. Fin let his hand drop and followed her through into the old-fashioned kitchen, which looked a whole lot more inviting than when Pauly had been in residence. He took the four pieces of mail she handed him.
‘Eliza —’
‘I’ll make coffee,’ she interrupted, picking up the kettle. ‘I have white wine if you’d prefer.’
‘Coffee’s good, thanks. Eliza, listen —’
‘Shouldn’t you open your mail? It might be important.’
‘Okay.’ She looked even less at ease than he felt. Fin sat down and ripped open the mail. The first letter was as expected: notification from his mother’s nursing home that the quarterly fee was due. The second was junk.
The third was an offer for the mining claim.
He must have made a sound because Eliza said, ‘What?’
‘Somebody wants to buy me out.’
‘Buy the mine?’ she asked, sounding surprised. When the kettle began to shriek, she poured hot water into the plunger and brought it to the table with two mugs.
‘The claim – the whole two hectares. They’re keen. They’ve upped the price from their first offer.’
‘But I thought – Would you consider selling?’
Fin refolded the letter. ‘I haven’t found what I’m looking for yet.’
‘What do they want it for?’
‘I don’t know.’ He reached out a hand to cover hers. ‘Eliza —’
‘Fin, don’t, please.’ She tugged her hand away. ‘You made it clear how you felt. Let’s just move on.’
‘Eliza, I can’t stop thinking about you,’ he told her. ‘Those three days we had . . .’
‘Had. Let them stay in the past.’ But her hand trembled as she poured coffee, and some of the dark liquid ended up on the table. With a muttered curse, she got up.
Fin rose and joined her at the sink, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He gathered her in close and pressed his cheek to her hair. It smelt like a warm meadow. He closed his eyes. ‘The thing I said the other day, it didn’t come out the way I meant.’
She didn’t resist his embrace. Her hands rested on his forearms. ‘You said you didn’t want me with you.’
‘I don’t want anything to happen to you.’
‘I’d be careful. I have been careful!’ She turned in the circle of his arms until she faced him. ‘I said I’d get proper boots.’
Fin backed off and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, still struggling with what to tell her.
‘Mining is inherently dangerous. If anything happened to you . . .’ His voice tailed off. He didn’t even want to think about it. ‘I just think it’s too much of a risk.’
She scrutinised his face. Having himself been played by Danielle, Fin could understand why. People said whatever they needed to say to get what they wanted.
‘Fin, I don’t know what to think,’ she said eventually, choosing her words with care. ‘Maybe we’re both still too raw from recent events. Perhaps you’re still holding a torch for Danielle, despite everything. Or,’ she shrugged stiffly, ‘maybe we both just needed to let off some sexual steam, and that’s all there was to it. A three-night stand.’
‘It was never that serious with Danielle. We were both ambitious, both being fast-tracked within MineCorp, but outside work we had nothing in common.’
‘Nor do we,’ she pointed out.
‘I disagree.’
Her blue eyes flared wide, and he saw the shimmer of a smile in them.
‘Maybe we do. I was due to fly out of Tamworth today but I cancelled my ticket earlier in the week. Something held me back. I’ve leased this place until the end of the month.’
‘And after that?’ Fin asked, wondering why it felt as though his whole future rested on her reply.
‘The honest answer is I don’t know,’ she said. ‘At some point I’ll need to make a decision. I have an apartment in Sydney, friends. But – and I can’t quite put into words why – here suits me. Being here, close to the Queensland border, might be a useful business advantage. But it’s more than that. I like the simplicity of life, the quiet, the friendly faces. I feel closer to the person I want to be.’
‘I know what you mean.’ He paused, knowing he’d never have a better opportunity to set things straight and not wanting to mess up again. ‘The thing with MineCorp was like a chain around my neck. I couldn’t shake it as long as I stayed in the city. So I drove north and as soon as I hit red earth, the shackles loosened. Being alone at Ruin Flat suited me at first. I guess I just wanted to lick my wounds alone. But then I met you and things have changed. I don’t understand how it happened so quickly, but I want to find out where it goes.’
*
This time when Fin put out a hand, Eliza linked her fingers with his. She knew his honesty deserved the same in return, even if it meant putting another dent in her pride.
But words were hard to come by, and she had to clear her throat bef
ore she could start. Even when she did, her voice was husky. She told him about the life of privilege she’d barely given a second thought to until her mother’s sudden death and the steady unravelling of her father.
‘I knew things weren’t the same for him after my mother died, but I didn’t realise quite how much he missed her. When I opened the door to the police that morning and they told me Dad’s body had been retrieved from the harbour, I didn’t believe them. I took them to his bedroom to show them he was just asleep, and of course he wasn’t there.’ She felt his fingers tighten as grief swelled her throat.
‘We’d always done everything together. We were so close – but when things were unravelling he couldn’t confide in me and I didn’t see it until it was too late.’ She stopped. ‘That’s what hurts the most.’
‘Maybe he just wanted to protect you.’
‘Being kept in the dark is the scariest thing I know.’
Fin looked at her. ‘I was just a few months old when my dad left, but from what her friends say, my mother was never the same. Someone told me once that the light in her eyes just went out, like a candle. She carried on because she had no choice, but something was always missing for her. I always thought there must be something I could do to make it better . . . but if there is I’ve never been able to work it out.’
Eliza thought back to her father’s decline. Like Fin with his mother, she had tried to shake him loose from the past and failed. ‘Perhaps there is nothing anyone could have done.’
‘You could be right. I suppose you always hope . . .’
‘I didn’t know until after he died, but the business had been in financial trouble for some time, worsened by unwise appointments and other poor decisions. The company was basically bankrupt, Dad had sold the family home – the one that Ernest Weaver remembered – and was leasing it back. I had no idea. So my home was gone too. And, of course, there was the scandal of his failure and death.’
‘And people like the Westland bitch to rub your nose in it.’
Eliza managed a weak smile. ‘There were a few of those: people who’d obviously resented me for years and I didn’t have a clue. The funny thing is George, her brother, is a real sweetie. We’d dated for a few months but I always knew he took it more seriously than I did. We were never engaged to be married or even close to it.’