by Cathryn Hein
Mrs. Brierly’s pursed lips were so tight they threatened to turn in on themselves. ‘Rotten, the lot of them.’
‘The only thing that’s rotten, Mrs. Brierly, is your heart. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a client to attend to. You know where the door is. Please don’t come through it again.’
The old lady’s nostrils flared, then she pivoted on her cane and strode out.
From the rear of the salon came clapping.
‘That was awesome,’ said Serenity, rushing to hug her. ‘You’re my hero.’
Elsa glanced uncertainly at her client. Wirralong was a small town with complicated and complex relationships, where a simple accidental snubbing could have a dire domino effect. Elsa had just insulted a town matriarch. For the second time in a week.
But the woman was grinning as widely as Serenity. ‘Silly cow deserved it,’ she said.
Serenity cocked a ‘see?’ eyebrow at Elsa and, with a trademark twinkle of her fingers, returned to her rooms. A minute later the salon flooded with the sound of Helen Reddy’s seventies female empowerment anthem “I Am Woman,” causing Elsa’s client to break into giggles.
And Elsa to think that Jack was wrong.
She wasn’t a little lioness, she was a big one. And she could roar.
*
Hair Affair experienced an unprecedented boom in Monday trade. Overexcited by the drama, and with the media not reporting anything new, locals converged on the one person they suspected would have inside information, unaware that Elsa knew no more than they did.
Even when she advised them of the fact, they kept probing. Surely she’d talked to Jack? And surely he’d revealed some juicy snippet about the situation, like whether it was mistaken identity or not.
Not one to let a sale pass her by, Serenity guilt-tripped many into buying products they didn’t need. After all, they weren’t there for a haircut, shave or beauty treatment, and they couldn’t possibly be there just to gossip? Wirralong was better than that, wasn’t it?
‘Think of it as the price of their harassment,’ said an unrepentant Serenity, when Elsa gently chided her.
By four-thirty the gossips had disappeared and Elsa had time to take a breather. She was seated at the counter, checking receipts when her phone rang. For a second she assumed it was the salon phone and another nosy parker, then twigged it was her mobile.
She checked the screen and her heart thudded. ‘Jack.’
‘Hey. Look, can you meet me out the back?’
‘Out the back of where?’
‘The salon.’
She slid off the stool and began striding for the rear door. ‘You’re here?’
‘For the moment. Can you come?’
‘Heading there now.’
Such was Elsa’s hurry, she nearly bumped into Serenity, exiting her rooms with a client. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she said holding up her palms and then dragging Serenity aside by the elbow. ‘Jack’s here,’ she whispered when the client was past the wash stand. ‘Can you hold the fort for a bit?’
‘Of course. Take your time.’ Serenity squeezed her hand then headed towards the front.
The shop’s rear door opened onto a set of concrete stairs above a space that had once been the Tobacco Emporium’s loading dock but was now a small, shared parking area lined with dumpsters and wheelie bins. Jack’s ute was idling across its end in the cobbled laneway, Daisy in the tray, wagging her tail as she spotted Elsa.
Hitched to the ute was Jack’s camper trailer. The sight of it had Elsa’s step faltering, then Jack unfolded from the car and all she could do was run.
There was no greeting, just Elsa flinging herself at him and Jack enveloping her in his broad embrace, his face burrowing into the space between her shoulder and neck, his breathing hoarse.
‘Elsa, Elsa,’ he whispered.
She wrapped herself against him with equal ferocity, needing the reassurance of it for herself, knowing he needed it too. ‘It’s okay, I’m here. Whatever you need, I’m here.’
He groaned, and she could feel his frown against the sensitive skin of her neck as he scrunched his eyes and mouth against his emotions. Then he cupped her face and kissed her with the same fervour he had that first time in the salon. Desperate and hungry, as if he couldn’t believe it was happening.
Or might not happen again.
Finally, Jack kissed his way to the edge of her mouth and slowly eased his head up. His pale eyes seemed stark against the tired shadows of his face. He traced a finger down her cheek and his lips rose in a one-sided smile that held nothing but bottomless sorrow.
And in that moment Elsa knew for certain.
A lump of ice dropped from her chest into her stomach. ‘You’re leaving Wirralong.’
‘I have to.’
‘For how long?’
‘I don’t know.’
Elsa fisted the sides of his shirt. ‘But you’ll come back.’
Jack’s mouth thinned. He shook his head.
‘No. You can’t do this. The shooting was nothing to do with you. Wirralong, Strathroy …’ She shook her fists, rattling his shirt, wanting to rattle him. ‘This is your home now.’
‘I don’t have any choice.’
Elsa had to grit her teeth and breathe through her nose to stop from yelling at him. There was always a choice.
‘Dad doesn’t know if the shot was meant for him or Elliot, but it’s not looking good. If it was for Dad, then Jesse could be at risk. Not because he’s involved in anything, but as a way to get to Dad. He’s my brother. I’m not going to leave him exposed to danger.’
‘What about you? You’re Fraser’s son too. Doesn’t that put you at the same risk?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know. That’s why I have to get us away. Far away. From Melbourne, from here. If shit does come down, then it’ll be on us only. Not anyone else we love.’
Noticing the ‘us,’ Elsa tilted her head. Jesse was in the passenger seat, his head turned to the side and the blank brick wall of the opposite building. Deliberately not watching.
Elsa opened her mouth. Closed it. Then shut her eyes and pressed her forehead against Jack’s chest. His big heart beat firmly, while her own was fluttering like a frightened bird.
‘You’re heading to your claim, aren’t you?’
He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. ‘Yeah.’
And once there, he’d settle back into his old life. The ‘safe’ life, chasing black opal dreams. Getting lost in them, with nothing to bring him home.
Except her.
‘What about Strathroy? Your cattle?’
‘Angus is taking care of it.’
She tilted her face to his. ‘Promise you’ll come back to me.’
‘Elsa …’
‘Please.’
His gaze moved to the back of the building, the roofline, the sky. ‘This place won’t want me back, not now.’
‘But I do. And I’ve worked too damn hard to prove to you that not everyone here is a narrow-minded bigot to let you go that easily.’
A small smile tipped his mouth. He brushed her cheek with his thumbs. ‘Little lioness.’
‘Big lioness.’ She poked his chest. ‘And don’t you forget it, Jack Hargreaves.’
He laughed and embraced her with another of those encompassing, ferocious hugs, like he wanted to absorb her. ‘Christ, Elsa, you’re one of a kind.’
‘Which is why you have to come back. You won’t find another me anywhere else. And I won’t find another you.’ She pressed against him. ‘I don’t want another you. The one I have is just fine.’
The embrace eased into a kiss that didn’t last long enough.
‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘We’ve a long drive.’
‘Call me? When you get there. Let me know you’re safe.’
‘I will from the Ridge. After that I won’t have reception.’
‘Find some.’
‘It’s not that easy.’
‘Do it for me?’ Elsa smiled. ‘I’m not go
ing to let you forget me, Jack. No matter how far away you run.’
He stroked her hair and smiled back. ‘That’s one thing I could never do.’
‘Good. Now kiss me again and then go before I try to kidnap you.’
The kiss was brief but searing.
‘Take care, little lioness,’ he whispered, and with a last tender kiss on Elsa’s forehead Jack swung the car door wide and lowered himself inside.
Elsa steamed with the need to bawl. Instead she kept her spine straight and her chin up as Jack pulled the door shut.
For a long moment, he stared straight ahead, his knuckles sharp from fisting the wheel, then he dropped a hand and with a last nod at Elsa, put the car into gear.
The car rolled slowly forwards, tyres bumping on the cobbles, and gathered speed.
Elsa watched it until the corner, a lioness made of blown glass, waiting for the turn so she could shatter.
Chapter Eighteen
It took Jack a week to feel organised. Organised, but not home. The Ridge would never feel like that again, not after his brief experience of Elsa at Strathroy. Those moments with her had been special. He hadn’t realised how special until he’d driven through the drab, alien landscape of his claim, with its barren mullock heaps and shafts and rusting machinery, and realised the emptiness of his old life.
For a brilliant few days, Elsa had given him a glimpse of a dream future, one filled with colour and laughter. Now it seemed far away.
As expected, ratters had had a field day in his absence. Anything Jack had left behind of value was gone. The old caravan that had served as his living quarters until he bought the camper trailer was strewn with empty bottles, fag ends and rubbish. Every cupboard had been ransacked, his books tossed about, spines broken, pages bent and torn. The bedding and furnishings messy and soiled.
With so many shafts and heaps it was impossible to tell what he’d lost from the diggings. For all he knew the ratters could have struck a fortune, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t give a shit about stolen opals or tools or the mess. Compared to losing Elsa they meant nothing. Although, as she kept saying in her phone messages, Jack hadn’t lost her yet. Distance just made it feel that way.
With nothing else to do, Jack cleaned up, salvaged the remaining equipment and went back to work. He didn’t have the heart to sink new shafts. Instead he visited old ones and tunnelled by hand using a pick, wallowing in the mind-numbing physical exercise. When he tired of that, he noodled through old heaps or walked the claim, scanning the ground and kicking at worthless rocks while Jesse stayed back at the camp, drinking and sulking over Merisa.
Every two or three days Jack drove to the nearest phone reception point or into the Ridge to report in to Fraser. The police investigation had stagnated, but with his mates’ help Fraser had been running his own. Whether he’d discovered anything, Jack was left clueless thanks to his dad refusing to share even hints over the phone.
Jack’s estimation of Merisa dived even further when he learned she’d done a deal with a TV network. He and Fraser agreed to keep the news from Jesse, which was surprisingly easy thanks to the claim’s lack of phone reception and Jesse’s drunken stupor.
Each trip ended the same, with Jack staring at Elsa’s number, wanting to dial. She left him messages daily. Some short, some long, all of them in her cheery Elsa voice that made his chest throb.
Yet not once did he press dial.
Jack kidded himself that it was for her own good. That he was protecting her by letting her go, but the truth was he was scared. Elsa wasn’t Merisa. She wasn’t the kind of girl to dump someone without ceremony, but small towns could be pressure cookers, steaming with ill-will and gossip. Jack had had little relationship with Fraser, yet Wirralong had still branded him with accusing eyes. How much worse would it be now?
He couldn’t imagine Shayna or Bruce would be impressed by the situation. Who’d want their daughter hanging around with a man who’d been involved in a shooting, even peripherally? The twins wouldn’t like it either. No brother would. Nor would her friends. As for her clients, all Jack could hope was that their relationship hadn’t cost her too many.
Elsa was unique—big-hearted, brave and her own woman—but even she would find it hard to stand firm against the kind of censure Wirralong was so expert at. Easier for them both if he didn’t call. If Jack drew the line now, retreated to his old life, and saved himself the hell of her slowly withdrawing from his love.
A good plan in theory.
Practice, though, was proving to be agony.
*
To his bemusement, one afternoon, three weeks after they’d arrived, Jack uncovered a promising seam of grey ‘potch,’ the glassy silica that was basically uncoloured opal. Four months ago it would have had his heart racing with the thrill of potential. Today, it made him laugh out loud. He followed the seam anyway. Only an idiot would give up the chance of finding precious, gem-quality opal.
‘Check these out,’ he said to Jesse that evening, handing him two stones he’d already washed and rubbed free of opal dirt. The first was approximately six centimetres in diameter and a startling blue. The other was less than half that size, but the colours on display were kaleidoscope spectacular.
‘Opal,’ said Jesse, unimpressed. After the first week of drunken festering, Jesse had sobered up. A combination of pulling his shit together, boredom and Jack refusing to buy more booze.
‘Not just opal. Black opal.’
Jesse whistled and inspected the gems more closely. ‘What are they worth?’
Jack shrugged. ‘The big one maybe nine or ten grand. The coloured one, maybe thirty.’
‘Nice money.’
‘Yeah.’ Jack took back the stones and pocketed them. As they often did, the seam had abruptly run out. There’d been opal, but most of it was poor quality. He’d noodle through the excavated rock again tomorrow but so far these were the only two decent stones.
He sat on a fold-out chair and stared at the scrubby, dust-dulled landscape, wondering for the umpteenth time how a land so leached of colour could spit up stones brighter than rainbows.
‘What are you going to do with them?’ asked Jesse.
‘Not sure.’
Except he was. A couple of days ago he’d spotted Simone in town. He’d hoped she’d moved on in his absence, taken Zoe somewhere better, but she was still here. An opal of the smaller gem’s quality could give her and Zoe the chance of a new life.
As for his other find, he knew exactly who that would suit.
‘Do you miss her?’ Jesse asked suddenly.
‘Yeah.’
‘I miss Merisa.’ He said nothing for a moment, then squinted at the vast sky. ‘I used to love watching her do her make-up. She’d stand at the mirror in her bra and knickers and do this thing with her mouth when putting on mascara. Horny as hell.’
It probably was, but Jack wasn’t about to agree. Merisa wasn’t his favourite person.
‘She was smart, too. Too smart for me.’
Jack shot him a look. ‘Bullshit.’
‘Took me for a ride, didn’t she?’
‘No one would have guessed that.’
‘I should have. I was with her enough.’ He draped an arm over the top of his head and grabbed a hunk of hair. ‘All that shit she said about us …’ He snorted and let his arm flop down. ‘And there I was thinking she loved me.’
‘Not your fault, Jesse.’
‘Yeah, it is. You’d think I’d have learned by now. Last girlfriend before Merisa did a runner the moment she realised who Dad was. One before that liked to brag on Facebook about who she was seeing, like I was famous or something. Merisa … She was different. Normal. Everyone liked her.’
Not everyone, but Jack kept the thought to himself.
‘I fucking loved her. Stupid dick that I am.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Jesse waved his apology off. ‘Doesn’t matter.’
‘Matters to you. So it matters to
me.’
Jesse eyed him, then shook his head.
‘I know I haven’t been the best brother,’ Jack spread his hands and regarded his rough palms, ‘but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.’ He looked Jesse in the eye. ‘I’m going to try harder from now on. With you and with Dad.’
‘You mean that?’
‘Yeah, I do.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘Don’t expect miracles, though. I’m pretty shit at this stuff.’
‘You’re doing all right.’ Jesse considered him for a long moment. ‘Your girl. Elsa. She must be something special.’
Jesse had no idea, but Jack wasn’t going to explain. He wasn’t sure he could. Not with words anyway. Explaining Elsa would be like trying to explain religion.
He stood. ‘I’d better make a start on dinner.’
‘That bad, huh?’ When Jack didn’t answer, his brother chuckled, stretched his legs out and leaned back with his hands behind his head. ‘Definitely special. Lucky bastard.’
To Jack’s annoyance, Jesse decided to join him on his trip into the Ridge the following morning. Jack liked to listen to Elsa’s messages as he drove the final leg but with Jesse in the car he’d have to wait.
It was bad timing that Simone was crossing the road with Zoe, when he neared the post office. Jack had wanted to talk to her without Jesse watching, but now it was unavoidable. She waved and waited for him to park, Zoe bouncing on her toes in excitement, causing Jesse to lean closer to the windscreen and regard mother and daughter with interest.
As soon as Jack alighted Zoe threw herself at him. He grinned and lifted her up, kissing her chubby cheek and tickling her belly until she squealed with laughter. Stepping out, his brother leaned folded arms across the ute’s roof and raised an eyebrow.
‘Hey,’ said Jack, ignoring Jesse and kissing Simone. ‘How have you been?’
‘Oh, you know. The usual.’ Her smiled faltered and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. ‘I heard you were back. Thought you might’ve called around.’
Jack lowered Zoe to the ground and stroked the back of her head as she clung possessively to his leg. ‘Been busy.’