‘Is it? Fancy that.’ He caught Serena’s warning glance and winked, both clearly remembering how he knew.
From the rotunda, the microphone crackled to life as Sean encouraged the audience to welcome the next act. ‘And we’ve still got a couple of spots to fill early this evening so if you want to take a turn on stage, pop on over and claim one from me.’
Serena pulled the scarves from her shoulders and pointed at a scarf her mother had just pulled from the pile. ‘I’ll take that purple one. Mum, why don’t you play?’
A look of horror settled on her mother’s face and she seemed to shrink into herself. ‘I couldn’t. I haven’t played in weeks … months. I’d be terrible.’
An off-key rendition of an old Bette Midler song assaulted his ears, and Paul met Dawn’s eye. ‘From what Serena has said, even out of practice, you’ll be a treat. Why don’t I introduce you to Sean? He’s a cousin of some sort to Dad and Uncle Josh.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘Please, Mum?’ Serena walked backwards, gently towing her mother around the few people who lingered in front of the rotunda listening to the young singer. As she belted out the old standard, they smiled the gritted-teeth smiles of stoic family members.
Serena held her mother’s hands and looked into her eyes. ‘This is a great chance to dip back into your music.’
Dawn winced at a particularly off note and glanced at Paul. ‘I don’t have my guitar.’
He could see an eager yearning in her eyes and he sensed Dawn’s reluctance crumbling. ‘My cousin will lend you his.’ He crossed his fingers, hoping Sean wouldn’t let him down. Keen to hear for himself the singer who had made such an impact on his father and uncle years ago that they still remembered her, Paul waited until his cousin completed his spiel and waved him over.
‘Hey, Sean, meet Serena’s mother, Dawn. She’s an accomplished singer and guitarist.’
Sean raised a hand to shade his eyes against the spotlight. He shook her hand and squinted at one and then the other. ‘A good evening to you, lovely ladies. That’ll be grand. And what would you like to be singing this evening?’
‘You’re Irish?’ Dawn frowned and peered at Sean.
He stroked his bushy beard as he grinned at her. ‘And ye’ll not be holding that against me, I hope? ’Tis a long time ago I came to Australia.’
Dawn shook her head. ‘You still have your accent. I like it.’
‘Ah, begorra, and ’tis the way of the Irish to charm with their blarney.’
Bemused at seeing his usually quiet second cousin flirting with Serena’s mother, Paul looked at Serena and raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged and turned back to watch the exchange. She might not give him an inch, but she wasn’t being quite as distant with him. Not now he’d introduced her mother to the MC.
Dawn glanced from one to the other and grinned, before assuming a mock serious expression. ‘This is under protest, you understand?’
Serena nodded and hugged her mother. ‘I’ll be thrilled to hear you play again.’
Dawn patted Serena’s back before turning to Sean. ‘Do you have a guitar I can use? I didn’t bring mine on this visit.’
‘To be sure you can borrow mine. And what shall I say you’ll be singing?’
‘Thank you. Let me think for a bit.’
‘I’ll put you in the five-thirty slot. If you want to play a couple of songs, there’s a bit of time to be filled.’
Dawn and Serena wandered a few steps away, and Serena slipped an arm through her mother’s.
Paul turned back to Sean. ‘Thanks. I’m free for a while so let me know if you need a hand with anything.’
‘Aye, lad, I will. Keep an eye on those two bonny women.’
As Serena and her mother wandered further away, Sean’s gaze followed them before Paul clapped his cousin on the shoulder. ‘You’ll have to come out to dinner at the farm one night. I’ll talk to Mum about organising it.’
***
Serena shuffled from foot to foot, her gaze following her mother as Dawn climbed the steps to the stage. ‘I hope I did the right thing, pushing her like that.’
Paul crossed his arms, his body a shield from the sneaky wind cutting between the tents. ‘Relax, she looks happy.’
Relax? If Paul only knew what her mother had been through. ‘The doctor was encouraging about her returning to performing and told her she’d know when the time felt right.’
‘There you are then; she didn’t take much persuading.’
‘Mmm.’ Paul could reassure her all he liked, but anxiety bubbled in Serena’s stomach. She repeated over and over in her brain like an anxious parent, You can do it, Mum.
‘Please welcome Dawn, a visitor to our town who will be singing an old favourite I’m sure you’ll recognise.’ Sean moved aside and turned off his microphone.
Paul leaned towards Serena, his voice low as the small crowd clapped politely and peered at the stranger in town. ‘Judging by her bright eyes, I reckon she’s keen to get back into singing; maybe a bit nervous. She’ll be fine. And Mindalby folk are grateful for every bit of entertainment that comes their way.’
‘What concerns me is how she’ll feel if her performance isn’t up to her usual standard.’
Sean strummed the strings and made a couple of adjustments before handing the rosewood guitar to her mother. Dawn sat and tucked the body of the instrument into her lap, just like Serena had watched her do hundreds of times, then gave Sean a small, apologetic smile and fine-tuned the instrument. When it was tuned to her satisfaction, she ran her hand along the neck and plucked the opening chords of a slow, familiar Irish folk song. Her eyelids fluttered down and her expression became intent. Warm, rich notes were drawn from the strings as she played the opening verse and Serena lost herself in the music as she had so many times growing up.
Dawn’s voice rose with the first verse, pure and clear, and full of emotion. A few people nearby wandered over to the rotunda, drawn by a singer whose calibre they were unlikely to hear outside the concert halls where her mother had played before her health scare. As the song came to an end, the last note fell into a moment of silence so intense, Serena held her breath until Sean began a slow clap. Others joined in with calls of ‘More!’ shouted above the applause.
Serena clapped loudest of all as relief poured through her.
Had she doubted her mother’s recovery?
Dawn opened her eyes slowly, blinking as though surprised to find an audience in front of her.
‘She’s amazing.’ Paul’s soft comment drew Serena’s attention and she turned to him.
He raised a hand and gently wiped his thumb across her cheek. ‘Are they tears of joy you’re crying?’
She touched one cheek, surprised to discover it was damp. ‘I was so afraid she wouldn’t sing again. But she’s still got it.’
On stage, her mother rose and took a small bow.
Sean joined her and raised the cordless microphone to his lips. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, let’s thank Dawn and see if we can’t convince her to play another song or three for us.’
Whistles and calls for an encore rose and Dawn turned to Sean.
As they conferred he held the microphone behind him, one hand on Dawn’s shoulder. At six feet tall, he towered over her mother, but to Serena, it was clear her mother was in control of the conversation. She had the knack of dealing gently with people, who fell in line with her wishes at the same time they fell in love with her. At least, the men did; women wanted to be her friend. But since her chemo treatment, her mother had lost her confidence.
‘I hope today means she’s ready to climb back on the stage and start performing regularly again.’ Psychologically, tonight was a turning point in her mother’s recovery, but Serena still worried about her mother rushing her return. ‘Maybe I should rescue her.’
‘Sean looks happy. I’d say she’s going to sing another song. That’s a good sign.’ He chuckled, and dropped an arm casually around her shoulders. �
�That’s the second time tonight I’ve read signs in simple events. Maybe I’ve got some of Mum’s second sight.’
Serena looked up at Paul. His body was warm, the weight of his arm comforting, and she snuggled closer. He felt safe. Like a big brother?
She had refused to meet him since she’d brought her mother to Mindalby because she feared their connection. The attraction sizzling in their shared kisses told her to play safe until she knew how things stood between them, to stay in control. But the only way to do that was to keep her distance.
Had she been wrong?
Maree Carey’s second sight should have seen her coming and slammed the drawbridge down, but her welcome at the Carey home was like—like coming home. Was that it? Was her attraction to Paul as much about her craving for a family like his?
Max’s insinuations had put her on edge. When she thought about living with Max, her life had always felt less her own to do with as she wanted. Tailoring her choices to suit his, striving to be someone she wasn’t because that’s who Max had wanted her to be.
Dammit. Max had implied she shouldn’t have anything to do with the Careys. Introducing her mother to Paul’s family would be her choice and damn Max’s insinuations.
Dawn began playing a love song. Sean raised the microphone and, in a fine baritone voice, joined her, their voices blending, complementing each other, and the audience grew.
By the time the next act was ready to perform, the crowd was singing along to a robust rendition of a popular tune. Dawn ended the song with a flourish and a grin.
As she stood, Sean took her hand and kissed it in front of everyone. ‘Our thanks to Dawn for music none of us will forget. Welcome to Mindalby, and I, for one, hope you decide to stick around.’
Dawn laid a hand over her heart and mouthed thank you before handing the guitar back. She took one final bow, adjusted her beanie and left the stage.
Profound joy and gratitude filled Serena as her mother arrived in front of her, eyes aglow.
‘Well, how did I sound? Okay?’
Serena hugged her. ‘As good as ever, Mum.’
‘Wonderful, Dawn, absolutely wonderful,’ Paul enthused. ‘Would you like to meet my parents now?’
Paul’s question hung in the air between them.
Her mother nodded and squeezed her shoulder. ‘We could.’
And if Dawn recognised one of the Carey twins as her lover?
Serena slipped her arm around her mother’s waist.
At least I’ll have my answer.
***
Paul looked over the heads of Serena and her mother and watched his second cousin. Sean was leaning against a pole and frowning as his gaze followed Dawn down the steps of the rotunda.
Interesting. It seemed Paul’s usually quiet cousin was taken with Serena’s mother.
The strange dinner conversation at the farm circled in Paul’s memory and an idea, strange and surprising, and very much left field, popped up and refused to leave.
Serena never mentioned her father; not a he’s dead or I don’t want to talk about him. It was as though the man had never existed.
‘Where to now, Paul?’ Dawn’s question pulled him out of the strange direction his thoughts had taken.
He shelved the idea to examine later, after introductions were made. And after he’d seen Dawn’s reaction to meeting his father and uncle. ‘Would you like to meet my family?’
‘That would be lovely.’
He offered his arm to Dawn and she leaned on it. For such a slim, small woman, she had a strong grip. ‘Dawn, your singing and guitar playing were wonderful. And you and Sean sounded like you’ve sung together before.’
‘Odd you should say that. I felt the same. I think you’d say our voices are simpatico.’ Dawn darted a glance at Serena and changed the subject. ‘Any chance of a bite to eat? I have a sudden yen for that sausage in bread.’
‘Sure, Mum. Paul’s family are manning the sausage sizzle. I think you’ve met his dad and uncle already, and his mum is lovely. Come on.’
‘Serena?’ He looked at her over the top of Dawn’s head.
‘Yes, Paul?’
‘Can we talk later? There’s something important I want to ask you.’
She hesitated a moment and her gaze darted to her mother. ‘Okay. When Mum is—’
As they neared the Carey family stall, a crowd was gathered around the counter. Cries of ‘Is he okay?’ cut through their conversation.
Heart thumping, Paul pushed through the crowd. His father was seated on a plastic crate and paramedics were administering oxygen.
His mother grabbed Paul’s arm, her face pale. ‘It’s Frankston. He cruised past and told Jake he’s going to get our farm one way or the other. Your father told him where he could go and then collapsed on the crates.’
Paul wasn’t aware of moving, of excusing himself from Serena and her mother. He was only aware of his father’s pale face behind the oxygen mask, and the racing of his own heart as a young male doctor lifted the stethoscope from his father’s chest. ‘Will he be okay?’
The doctor looked up. ‘You’re family?’
‘His son. Is he going to be okay?’
‘I believe so. The ambulance will take him to hospital and we’ll keep him in overnight for observation. I gather he got a bit of a shock?’
‘An unwelcome reminder from the past.’ Paul’s mother’s tone had never sounded more grim; her fierce gaze spoke volumes. She was determined to deal with Frankston once and for all.
As paramedics loaded the gurney carrying his father into the back of the ambulance, Paul held his mother’s shoulder. ‘Frankston won’t win. Not this time.’
This time they would bring the whole town together to face down the conman.
Mindalby Co-operative would go ahead and Frankston would lose.
There was no other way.
Chapter Seventeen
Serena adjusted the sketchpad on her lap and looked through the window of Trish Jenkins’s living room. Mist clung to the bare branches of the trees at the bottom of the garden, and weak sunlight struggled to break through the white cloud. She sipped her cup of tea as grey and white shapes coalesced into the first design idea she’d had all week.
A shimmer of excitement ran through her as she put down her cup and picked up a soft lead pencil. Quick, sure strokes captured the essence of the image before she began filling in the detail. Absorbed in her work, she didn’t hear Trish enter the room and look over her shoulder.
‘Beautiful work, dear. By the way, that young man of yours is here. I showed him into the lounge.’
‘Young man? Thanks, Trish.’ Hoping Paul brought good news about his father’s health, she stretched her sock-clad feet into a patch of sun on the carpet and set aside her sketchpad. In spite of the possible family connection that had surfaced during her search, first cousins or whatever, she couldn’t get past the pleasure that spending time with Paul brought. She slipped her feet into a pair of Ugg boots and padded down the hall.
Smile at the ready, she pushed the lounge door open and stepped inside.
Max stood in front of the fireplace inspecting his shirt cuffs. ‘Hello, darling. I hoped you weren’t sleeping in this morning.’
Serena froze, her hand on the doorknob. ‘Max. What are you doing here?’
He crossed the room and kissed her cheek. ‘You could have told me about this place when I was looking for somewhere to stay. It’s much nicer than my motel room.’ Beneath his playful tone was a layer of accusation and annoyance she chose to ignore. Far too much of their time living together had been spent appeasing Max’s needs and imagined slights.
‘Are you hoping to move in? Trish only has two rooms and they’re both occupied.’
A sly expression crossed his face. ‘Are you offering to share your bed?’
‘No.’ Never again would she allow herself to be suckered by this man’s seeming charm.
‘Pity. A man can hope.’
‘Is there something I
can do for you, Max? Otherwise, I was in the middle of working.’
Hands in pockets, he strolled around the chintz sofa and sat in a plump cushioned armchair. Crossing one leg over the other, he laid his arms along the padded chair arms. ‘Au contraire, cherie. It’s what I can do for you.’
Reluctantly, Serena closed the door and perched on the edge of the sofa. The last thing she needed was Max poking his nose into her business.
‘Your … friend, Carey—’
‘He’s not my friend.’
‘I understand. It must be difficult to think of him as your brother but—’
Blood pounded in her ears and her focus narrowed on Max’s face. His mouth was moving, speaking words she didn’t want to hear. Max, with all his contacts, all the resources at his disposal, was used to finding people, drawing connections between them.
Wrecking lives.
And hopes.
‘Why do you think he’s my brother?’ Her question was little more than a whisper, but the words shouted in her head. Brother, brother, brother …
Not cousin. Somehow Max had connected the dots in a pattern she hadn’t expected. Paul’s parents were clearly in love with one another, in a relationship that precluded the possibility of an affair. But had that been the case twenty-seven years ago? She pressed both hands to her stomach and swallowed the bile that threatened to choke her.
So close.
She and Paul had come dangerously close to crossing a line.
‘All families go through bad patches. I know it must be a shock to you.’ Max was sitting, waiting for her response. ‘Serena, are you okay?’
She blinked and moistened her dry lips. ‘Fine. I’m fine. What bad patches do you mean?’
‘I thought he might not have told you. Jacob Carey was part of a scam selling shares in fictitious pine tree plantations a few years ago.’
‘Actually, Paul did tell me about it. His father was duped too, but he paid back everyone he’d got to sign up.’
‘Hmm, I can see why he’d tell it like that. But my investigation into Don Carter and what’s happening at the mill suggests there may be a financial link between them.’
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