Nicole Hurley-Moore grew up in Melbourne and has travelled extensively, whilst living her life through the romance of books. Her first passion in life has always been her family, but since doing her BA Honours in Medieval Literature, she has devoted her time to writing historical romance. Nicole is a full-time writer who lives in the Central Highlands of Victoria with her family, where they live in the peaceful surrounds of a semi-rural town. She is the author of the immensely popular novels McKellan’s Run, Hartley’s Grange and Country Roads.
By the same author
McKellan’s Run
Hartley’s Grange
Country Roads
First published in 2018
Copyright © Nicole Hurley-Moore 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Allen & Unwin
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone:(61 2) 8425 0100
Email:[email protected]
Web:www.allenandunwin.com
Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available from the National Library of Australia
www.trove.nla.gov.au
ISBN 978 1 76063 110 9
eISBN 978 1 76063 541 1
Set by Midland Typesetters, Australia
Cover design: Romina Panetta
Cover photographs: © Rob Lang; © Michael Boniwell
www.chockstonephotos.com
For Christopher, Ciandra, Conor, Alannah and my aunt, who really wanted Nick to have his own story.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Prologue
The smoke was still heavy in the air, making Nick’s eyes sting and causing a coughing fit as it stuck to his throat. Nick watched people bustle around him, worry and pity etched on to their tired faces.
‘We need to get you to the hospital,’ someone said. It was one of the guys from the ambulance.
Nick shook his head.
‘I’m not going until Sophie does.’
‘Mate, that could be a while, and you need medical attention. Those burns need to be looked at.’
Burns? Nick wondered what the guy was on about.
‘I’m alright.’
‘You’re not.’
Nick looked the ambo in the eye.
‘I’m staying put and that’s the end of it.’
‘Okay, I’ll tell you what? I’ll go and see what’s happening. I know you want to stay, but it could take longer than we first thought. If that’s the case, then you have to go to the hospital. Deal?’
Nick gave a weary nod.
‘Good, just hang on and I’ll be back in a tick,’ he said, standing up and disappearing between a couple of fire engines.
Nick tried to refocus on the chaotic scene before him. Emergency services and volunteers were out in full, all doing everything they could. But it was all too late. Why hadn’t they realised that?
‘The fire front has moved in a south-westerly direction,’ a firefighter said as she hurried past the ambulance. ‘They’ve got the eastern front under control. If we’re lucky, the wind change will blow it back on itself.’
A couple of cars tore up the drive, sending billows of dust in their wake. Nick thought he should get up, but something deep inside him was preventing him from walking over to face the Telford family. The first car came to an abrupt halt and Sophie’s family scrambled out of the car. Peter Telford supported his mother as the smoky air swirled and engulfed them. Behind them, in the second car, was Vivienne Parnell, Sophie’s best friend.
They all tried to get past the police, but were halted in their tracks. A lot of raised voices ensued but everyone fell silent as the ambulance officers wheeled a gurney draped in a sheet past them. The outline of the body was unmistakable, the small frame and the swell of the belly there for all to see, and the quiet was broken by screams. But for Nick everything faded into the background—all he could think about was that his Sophie was being whisked away. He threw off the blanket to stand up, taking a step towards the gurney carrying his wife’s body just as it bumped on the uneven ground and her arm fell loose from the covering. Her gold wedding band glinted in the odd, unsettling, smoky daylight.
Nick’s world tipped, and one of the ambos stepped forward and caught him before he hit the ground.
‘You need to lie down, mate,’ he said, gently holding Nick’s arm.
‘Let me go. I have to be with her!’
There was a shuffle of feet and another couple of guys materialised.
‘Come on, mate, best go back to the other ambulance. We’ll take it from here, there’s nothing you can do.’
‘But…I should go with her,’ said Nick, tears in his eyes as he watched them gently load the gurney into the back of the van. He couldn’t turn away, so he stood still staring, almost unseeing, as the doors were shut and the ambulance slowly drove away.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a scuffle and raised voices from beyond the row of cars.
‘Let me through!’ shouted a woman’s voice.
Nick looked up to see Vivienne push her way past everyone until she was standing in front of him, tears tracking down her face. Nick recognised the desolation in her eyes—other than their love for Sophie, it was the one thing they shared.
‘It should have been you!’ she spat before a policeman pulled her away. ‘Why are you still here and she’s not? You should’ve died in the fire!’
‘I did,’ Nick said quietly.
Chapter 1
Six years later
Nick Langtree pulled back the tattered curtain hanging at his caravan window and peered outside. A light, misty rain was falling over Winters Hill. The whole place was quiet and still, like the pause between breaths. The dark sky was tinging the whole place with a kind of melancholy, the effect intensified by the burned-out stable and the garden—once full of flowers, it was now just a tangle of brambles and weeds. Nick dropped the curtain and stepped away from the window.
He didn’t like to think about the past. Usually, he distracted himself with work, but this morning he’d managed to slice his hand open. It had been a stupid accident; his hand slipping while he’d been replacing a couple of rotten floorboards in the barn. The result had been a trip to casualty at the local hospital, a dozen stitches and a lecture about farm safety. He’d been glad to get back home—hospitals always brought back terrible memories. But being unable to do any work aro
und the farm had left him alone with his thoughts, which was never a good thing.
Nick stepped over to the tiny galley kitchen and flicked on the kettle, biting back a curse as he bumped his bandaged hand against the bench. His sleek black cat, Tabitha, regarded him imperiously from her perch on the top of a faded blue armchair.
‘What are you looking at?’ Nick muttered.
The cat continued staring at him for a moment before closing her green eyes and going back to sleep.
‘Sorry, Tab, I didn’t mean to snap.’
With his coffee made, Nick sat down at the small table and tried to think about anything but the past. The doctor had said he shouldn’t use his hand for the next few days. That was all fine and well for a medic, thought Nick, but he still had a mob of sheep to care for and a farm to run—at least, what was left of it. Six years ago, Winters Hill had been a different place. All Nick’s hard work had been beginning to pay off and the sheep run looked as if it was going to make a small profit. The future had felt bright and full of possibilities for both him and Sophie. They were deeply in love and had a much-wanted baby on the way.
But all that had changed in a heartbeat.
He sighed as he pushed away his untouched mug and tried to think what he could do. Fixing the floorboards in the barn was out. Maybe he’d just go for a walk and see if something presented itself. He glanced around the caravan, trying not to remember the plans for the beautiful, spacious house he and Sophie had been building when the fire struck. There was just enough room for him and the cat in the caravan. He was glad for his table, which doubled as a desk, his armchair, and a small TV. He thought about lying down on the double bed crammed behind the small partition he’d added to create a little privacy from the sleeping and living area.
Outside, a few steps away from the front door, he’d built a fully functioning bathroom for Sophie, who’d refused to move into the caravan while their house was being built unless there was a hot shower and a flushing toilet. Sophie’s brother had said that she was being a princess insisting on it and maybe she shouldn’t contemplate moving in until the house was finished. But Nick never thought of it that way. She’d never asked for anything else and damn, if all it took was some plumbing and a bit of hot water he was happy to do it. Besides it meant that the two of them would have their own space rather than living in the Telford’s spare room.
Nick winced as he got up and opened the door. Heavy rain had replaced the mist and it was loud as it hit the tin roof of the old tool shed.
If he had any sense he’d go back inside and write the rest of the day off. But, then again, he never admitted to being sensible. Nick picked his raincoat off a hook, stepping into the downpour, and shut the caravan door firmly behind him.
***
Tash Duroz stacked the last chair on the table, glad the day was almost over. The people of White Gum Creek did their best to keep The Gumnut Bakery a going concern, but today had been quiet. Thank God for the orders from local restaurants and cafés in the surrounding area, which kept the bakery afloat. When Tash and her baby brother, Alex, had taken over the bakery about five years ago, which had been a pretty scary thing for a then twenty-three-year-old, she’d soon realised they couldn’t only rely on the locals to make the business viable. In her grandmother’s day, the town had been big enough to keep the bakery ticking over. In recent years, however, several of the local farmers had gone broke, and a good proportion of young people had moved to bigger towns in pursuit of other opportunities and more excitement. But it wasn’t entirely doom and gloom. There’d been a steady trickle of tree changers arriving to escape the bustle of Melbourne. Thanks to them, the town was beginning to bloom again, and so was the bakery.
Tash remained determined about growing The Gumnut Bakery into a more profitable business. The bakery had been founded by the Duroz family back in the early days of the town and had been a fixture through both the tough times and the good. Her grandmother had always claimed the family had flour in its blood. Tash had long since resolved that she wouldn’t be the one to let the bakery go.
Preoccupied, she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and started mopping the old slate-tiled floor. Even though she was a good baker, it was her brother Alex who had the light touch of an artist when it came to making bread and pastries and cakes. The fact he took his skill for granted frustrated Tash, but she’d learned to live with it. Alex seemed to have an innate ability to instinctively know what ingredients to add to a recipe to transform it from the ordinary. For Tash it was a different story, she had to learn through experiment, trial and failure. In any case, though Alex surpassed her in baking, Tash had the business savvy. Three years ago she’d started supplying their artisan bread and baked goods to gourmet delicatessens and restaurants throughout the shire. Since then, they had steadily made a name for themselves with the foodie crowd.
For Tash, cooking and dining were integral parts of life in a busy world. They embodied family, conversations, continuation and the memories that bound the people you loved together.
It didn’t take her long to finish the mopping. The truth was she liked this part of the afternoon, when Alex and the other staff had gone home, and she could enjoy the silence of the shop and the hint of cinnamon in the air. It always gave her a moment to pause, take a breath and reflect on the day.
When she and Alex had taken over the bakery, Tash had immediately changed the opening hours, much to her grandmother’s horror. Tash had always known that she had been destined to run the bakery. From an early age she’d been captivated by the magic of baking and her grandmother had encouraged it. As she grew older, Tash realised that if The Gumnut was going to survive it would be through her and Alex, as their mother had no interest in continuing it. White Gum Creek and the bakery stifled Anna Duroz and she longed for the day that she could escape both of them. If it was left to her, Tash knew her Mum would sell up and move them all to the city, which was the last place Tash ever wanted to be. The town, the bakery and the family history were all in Tash’s blood, this was not only where she wanted to be, it was where she belonged. Her grandmother knew that and also that Alex felt the same—that’s why she’d given the bakery to them.
Tash had held her ground, arguing she needed to chase large outside orders to supplement the business they did with the townsfolk. The day started early, and most days Alex, along with their baking assistant, Joey, were in the kitchen by 5 am. Tash would join them at about six-thirty, whipping up a few batches of muffins and scones. After the baking was done, Alex did the daily deliveries and Tash looked after the shop until she closed it at four, giving parents and teachers time to grab a loaf of bread after school—and the kids the opportunity to buy the sweet stuff they enjoyed.
Taking over had been hard in the beginning. Her grandmother found it difficult to relinquish control. Tash understood this. When Tash had taken it over, the bakery had been only been making a small profit. But soon Tash had managed to improve on it with a lot of hard work and dedication.
And Alex had done his bit. Sure, he may complain every now and again, but Tash knew that he always had her back and The Gumnut was just as important to him as it was to her. Tash’s friends said that she had put her personal life on hold while she consolidated the bakery. That was true, to a point, but there was another reason she didn’t put herself out there. She was stuck on a guy that didn’t even see her…Well, not really.
Tash could lie to Sally and Bec, and even to Alex when she said that she only felt sorry for Nick Langtree. But it was harder to lie to herself. She remembered him from before the fire. He had a devastating smile and a laugh that was contagious. He’d moved to the area about nine years ago—God, that was a lifetime ago. She had met him in the bakery, and she had thought that Sophie Telford was the luckiest girl in White Gum Creek.
Poor Sophie. Tash winced. Since the accident, Nick had kept to himself. In the first couple of years, he was like a ghost; he hardly ventured into town. But in the last year he had
started to come back to The Gumnut at least once a week.
He wasn’t the same man. The smile and the laugh appeared to have disappeared forever. He seemed small and hollow and quiet. He wore his dark hair long to cover the burn mark seared across his right cheek. The backs of his hands carried more scars, a constant reminder of a day he must have wanted to forget.
Tash felt sorry for him. She told herself that all she wanted was for Nick to start living again. It had been six years and he deserved a little happiness. That was all it was; he was a lost soul who needed to be found. Sally and Bec would joke that Tash was trying to rescue Nick, just like she rescued everything else. Ever since she was a kid, Tash had rescued animals. If there was a stray dog in town, nine times out of ten it would end up at the Duroz place. So would lizards, birds, beetles and even cats, even if they weren’t lost and didn’t have any particular interest at being saved, although they never refused a bowl of milk before they were returned to their rightful owners.
But this was different. He might not know it yet, but Nick Langtree needed Tash’s help.
***
Totally sodden, Nick stared in dismay at the large, bright-red spray-paint angled across the tin wall of his hayshed. The bloody local kids had been at it again. It was the usual stuff, and Nick figured he should be used to it by now, but if he was honest, the taunting words still stung.
Monster, Murderer, Freak.
Maybe what they said was true, maybe he was all those things and deserved to be tormented. Not that he needed graffiti to remind him. He managed to do that all by himself—every day.
Get Out. You Don’t Belong Here—Leave Winnterr’s Hill.
‘Damn it, if you’re going to spray all over a man’s shed, you could at least get the bloody name right,’ he muttered.
Maybe it was the only way to stop the guilt, but for a second he took pleasure thinking about what he’d do to the little shits. Yeah, an all-day grammar lesson—that should kill their enthusiasm for graffiti.
White Gum Creek Page 1