He nodded slowly, then turned his attention to the doorframe, running a thumb over a deep scratch in the white-painted timber. His throat worked. ‘I shouldn’t have kissed you like that,’ he said.
Lily sighed. ‘Yeah, you made it perfectly clear it was a mistake.’
‘I hope you’ll accept my apology. It’s not going to happen again.’ He cocked his head towards her door. ‘You won’t need to put a padlock on your room.’
Good grief! How many ways was this man going to tell her that kissing her had been a bad idea?
Folding her arms over her chest, Lily eyed him angrily. ‘Oh, come on, Daniel. I told you I wasn’t upset about you. I’m not going to fold in a heap just because of one little kiss.’
He looked taken aback.
‘You don’t have a monopoly on bad memories, you know.’
Slowly, as if this was a new idea that was taking its time to sink in, he nodded.
Feeling bolder now, Lily decided to push her advantage. ‘But perhaps if this arrangement is going to work, we need to get a few things out in the open.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘I think it would help us both if I knew what happened,’ she said, and then nerves gripped her and she gulped. ‘I know I said I didn’t need details about why you went to jail. And I’m not trying to be a sticky-beak, but wouldn’t it make things easier—for you—if I understood what you’ve been through?’
It was like watching a man turn to stone.
‘I doubt it,’ he said stiffly.
‘I’m sure it must be very difficult to talk about,’ Lily said more gently.
He shook his head with sudden impatience. She could see his anxiety rising—in the clench of his hands, the militarystiff tension of his shoulders, the tight line of his mouth. His eyes were cold and furious.
‘I did time, Lily. Prison’s not a place I’d recommend. But I wasn’t beaten up by guards. I wasn’t brutalised by my fellow inmates.’
‘But it’s left its mark on you.’
If possible, his jaw tightened even more. ‘I’m not prepared to discuss it. What’s the point?’ He was almost shouting now. ‘If I told you what happened, what, exactly, would you understand?’
Lily’s mouth opened and shut like a landed fish. In the face of his sudden fury, she couldn’t think of an answer. Dismayed, she dropped her gaze and fiddled with the zipper on her pack.
And then, from the doorway, she heard a deep, groaning sigh, and when she looked up she caught a fleeting glimpse of Daniel’s darkly flushed and agonised face before he covered it with his hands.
She felt terrible. ‘I’m sorry, Daniel,’ she said. ‘You’re absolutely right. I couldn’t possibly understand what you’ve been through—even if you tried to tell me. It’s none of my business.’
Keeping her gaze averted, she desperately tried to change tack. She rummaged in her pack to find her toiletry bag and a change of clothes. ‘Please, forget I asked. Would it be OK if I took a shower now? And then, if you like, I’ll cook dinner.’
Daniel didn’t speak, but he nodded, and then stepped back out of the doorway, turned abruptly on his heel and marched away.
As Lily pottered about the kitchen, preparing a simple meal of spaghetti Bolognese and salad, she could hear Daniel switch on the shower.
She was tired, physically and emotionally, but her mind, of course, would not let go of all that had happened that day—the discovery of the wedding photograph, Daniel’s impulsive kiss, and then the final, upsetting exchange in her bedroom.
One thing was certain—from now on she was going to play it very carefully with Daniel Renton. An emotional distance was imperative. It was what he wanted. And it was sensible. Safe.
She’d been a fool to begin to care about him. She’d been even more of a fool to push her way into his life. But now that she was here she knew it would be best for both of them if she simply cleaned his house as quickly and as efficiently as she could and then left. Daniel would be better off without her.
The pub might have vacancies now that the weekend was over. At a stretch, she could afford to stay there for a few nights. Before she knew it Audrey would be back, and she’d focus on helping her mother. Fern was her priority—first and last. Actually…while Daniel was showering, it was a good time to put a phone call through to Sugar Bay… She dialled the number in her mobile phone.
‘Everything’s wonderful,’ Fern assured Lily when she rang. But Fern always said everything was fine, no matter how much pain she was in.
Problem was, there was little point in trying to supervise a parent by remote control. Fern had lived by her own rules all her life and, unfortunately, she wasn’t about to change.
‘Don’t hurry back,’ she said, when Lily explained how long she would be away. ‘You deserve a bit of a holiday. Have a great time, won’t you?’
‘Thanks. I’m—I’m sure I will.’
Lily suppressed a sigh. She hadn’t told Fern why she was in Gidgee Springs. Her mother wouldn’t have understood and certainly wouldn’t have approved. Fern had never demanded from Marcus the money that was rightfully hers. She’d always insisted that money wasn’t important—that the universe would provide. But the universe had never really come up trumps, and Fern had always lived hand to mouth. If she’d known of Lily’s plan to get money from Audrey Halliday, she would have done her best to talk her daughter out of it.
So Lily’s plan was to secure the money first and then find a way to justify it to Fern… Audrey’s generosity could be interpreted as the universe delivering the goods at last. Or karma. She would think of something.
All Lily knew was that it was up to her to look after Fern now. ‘I’ll ring you again soon, Mum. Take care, now.’
As she was hanging up, Daniel came into the kitchen.
‘I was just ringing home,’ she said, trying to ignore the little jolt in her heart when she saw him fresh from the shower with his hair still damp. ‘Dinner’s ready. Spaghetti Bolognese.’
‘Smells wonderful.’
He said this lightly enough, but the tension that had flared before still lingered while they ate. Lily had tuned the kitchen radio to a station that played light pop. Music during dinner—even moody love songs—was better than moody silence.
‘There’s ice-cream in the freezer,’ she reminded him as they finished their first course. ‘Rum-and-raisin. Would you like some?’
Leaning back in his chair, Daniel considered this as he patted his taut, toned stomach. ‘Rum-and-raisin ice-cream.’ A slow grin emerged, surprising her. ‘That’s a temptation I can’t resist.’
Pleased by this unexpected warmth, Lily heaped generous scoops into a bowl for him and gave herself a smaller helping. But their dessert didn’t provide any magical sweetening of the mood. Daniel murmured appreciation as soon as he tasted the ice-cream, but they ate it in much the same manner as they’d eaten their first course, in silence, listening to the radio, with Smiley stretched on the floor between them.
‘I’ll do the dishes,’ Daniel said, jumping to his feet as soon as he polished off the last creamy scoop.
‘I’ll dry,’ Lily offered.
She could tell by the way he stopped in mid-stride that he was about to protest—to send her away. He stood in the middle of the kitchen with their empty bowls in one hand and the other hand resting lightly on his hip.
Lily waited, feeling silly—like a child in the playground hoping to be allowed to join in a game. ‘Perhaps you’d rather I left you alone?’ she suggested.
‘No.’ He let out an embarrassed, huffing little laugh. And then, after a beat, ‘I’ve been alone for too long.’
His blue eyes met hers across the kitchen. Their gazes held, and her heart juddered as she realised that Daniel was letting her in.
I’ve been alone for too long.
She could see his vulnerability, unmasked. It was all there, in his eyes.
I’ve been alone for too long.
Daniel was offering her his
fragile trust.
Her throat felt choked. Despite his efforts to keep her and the rest of the world at bay, this man needed people. He needed her.
The truth of it smote at her warm heart. She would give anything to be able to throw her arms around him, to tell him that the world was full of sunshine and there was some for him.
But that would be too much, too soon. Softly, softly… All he wanted—all he needed from Lily—was friendship.
For Daniel, the kiss was behind them—a minor road-bump to be forgotten.
The world, viewed through the kitchen window as Lily and Daniel attended to the dishes, was black. Clouds covered the moon and the stars, and Lily couldn’t even see the distant light of another farmhouse.
‘How far away are your neighbours?’ she asked.
Daniel paused and looked out into the gloom. ‘I used to be able to see old man Flynn’s lights through there once, but the scrub’s regenerated and it’s much thicker now.’
‘Does the old man live out here by himself?’ she asked.
‘Not any more. He lives in town now.’ Daniel frowned as he enticed the last of the Bolognese sauce from the bottom of the saucepan.
‘Did you worry about him when he was living alone?’
He flicked her a sharp, wary glance. ‘You wouldn’t be setting a trap for me, would you, Lily?’
‘A trap? What on earth are you talking about?’
Daniel sighed deeply. He’d finished the washing up and was rinsing soap suds from his strong brown hands. As he stood watching the last of the bubbles disappear down the drain, he said, ‘I know I’m going to have to tell you sooner or later. I guess it’s best to get it over and done with.’
Lily stood, teatowel in hand, holding her breath. Once again she’d asked prying, unwelcome questions. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Daniel he didn’t have to tell her anything, but his next question distracted her.
‘Where’s that fancy coffee of yours?’
‘Um…in the pantry.’
‘How about you make some and I’ll tell you my story?’
There was, of course, no need to ask which story.
Her stomach tied itself into nervous knots.
He managed a faint smile. ‘You’re dead right, Lily. I’ll feel better if I get it off my chest.’
‘OK,’ she said softly, and as Daniel drew out a tall stool and perched on it she filled the kettle and fetched the coffee and the plunger.
He watched her for a bit, and then started abruptly, like a swimmer making a sudden decision to dive into icy water.
‘Old Flynn was a sick and lonely pensioner, trying to scratch together a living on the property next door. His family never had time to visit, but they’d telephone from the city, try to talk him into moving into town so they wouldn’t have to worry about him. But Flynn wouldn’t budge.’
Lily, listening carefully, nodded as she poured boiling water over the coffee grounds in the plunger. Fern was just as stubborn. ‘I won’t leave Sugar Bay till they carry me out in a box,’ she’d said.
‘So I used to keep an eye on him,’ Daniel said. ‘You know—a couple of times a week I’d call in for a yarn and a cuppa. Every so often I’d do some mustering or yard work there—keep an eye on his fences. But one time when I was over there I discovered the local thug, a bully called Briggs, hanging about the place, frightening the poor old bloke. Later, Briggs tried to coerce Flynn out of the few cattle he had left—he’d actually punched the daylights out of the poor old fellow.’
Daniel’s face twisted with a dark emotion. Anger? Contempt? Horror? Lily couldn’t be sure. A prickly lump troubled her throat.
‘Briggs was a weasel,’ he said. ‘A mongrel. He already had a track record with the police.’
He paused, and Lily saw the pain in his eyes and the tension in his jaw.
‘I suppose you can guess what happened next?’ he said.
‘You got into a fight. With Briggs. Trying to defend old Flynn.’
‘Exactly.’
This was said with such harrowing regret that Lily felt her eyes fill with tears.
Daniel’s eyes had become bleak chips of blue slate.
‘Coffee’s ready,’ she said, and she pushed down on the plunger.
He nodded, and waited while she filled a mug and handed it to him.
‘Thanks.’ He took a sip, and released a soft sound of approval.
Then, as she sat at the table with her coffee, he said, ‘I only gave Briggs a black eye the first time.’ He paused and sighed heavily. ‘But then the sneaky rat came from behind me with a tyre lever, planning to do me over. I had no choice but to hit him as hard as I could to defend myself.’ Daniel shot Lily a tense, warning glance. ‘Briggs hit his head on a metal picket on the way down.’
‘Oh, no,’ she whispered, too appalled to think of a more adequate response.
‘It was one of those freak accidents.’ He bared his teeth in a grimace. ‘A freak fatal accident.’
Oh, God. Daniel had killed a man.
So much worse than she’d expected.
She felt sick. Sick for Daniel.
She couldn’t help thinking of the gentleness of his hands as he’d examined the labouring heifer. He’d been so eager to save the calf’s life. And he’d taken such care with the frightened dog she’d brought him. His gentle hands had held her while he kissed her…
It didn’t really seem possible that the same hands that had delivered the calf and cradled her face had killed a man.
She knew this dreadful accident would have tortured him. It would go on torturing him for ever. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to talk about it.
He sat very still on the stool, with the heels of his boots hooked over the rails, and clutched the coffee mug tightly as he stared with fierce concentration at a spot on the floor.
Watching him, Lily felt her heart almost break. Her head buzzed with a hundred questions. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘I don’t understand why you had to go to jail. It was an accident, wasn’t it? It was self-defence? Surely you’re allowed to use reasonable force to defend yourself?’
‘In most cases,’ Daniel agreed, and then, without any prompting, he added, ‘But, unfortunately, old Flynn passed out, so he wasn’t able to be a witness. And Briggs’s father suddenly arrived on the scene, and somehow, in the midst of all the confusion, the tyre lever mysteriously disappeared.’
A look of frustration twisted his face. ‘The police searched everywhere, and they couldn’t find the lever.’
Lily frowned. ‘But Heath Drayton believed your story. He seemed quite confident you were innocent.’
Daniel nodded and took a deep sip of coffee. ‘Couldn’t get me off the hook, though.’
‘So in court it was your word against the father’s?’
‘Yeah. Without the tyre lever to prove that I’d been attacked with a weapon, there was no way to justify why I’d used such force to thump Briggs a second time.’
He let out his breath slowly. ‘In the end it was bad luck all round. It was election time, and the Attorney General was making a big splash in the press about demanding stricter, tougher sentencing. The local police talked the State Prosecutor out of a murder charge, but the district magistrate took the new ruling to heart. He was determined to send me down.’
‘So what did you get?’
‘Three years for manslaughter.’
‘Three? That’s so unfair!’ Lily cried. How could Daniel have tolerated the undeserved humiliation, the injustice and the restrictions? It was too, too cruel.
‘They let me out after eighteen months for good behaviour.’
‘How—?’ Her voice faltered and she had to stop, to draw a deep breath and try again. ‘How could you bear it?’
He shook his head. ‘Not very well.’
What could she say? She tried to put herself in Daniel’s shoes, but her imagination was too limited by her own safe world. Her mind shrank from accepting the grim reality that had been a daily occurr
ence for this gorgeous man. What chilling memories haunted him?
Setting her coffee cup aside, she stood and walked to him, and rested her hand lightly on his forearm. ‘Daniel, it’s over. It’s all behind you now.’
‘Yeah.’ He sighed. ‘I keep telling myself that. One day I’ll believe it.’
He set his cup on the draining board and straightened, pushing back his shoulders and drawing in a deep breath. He looked pale, as if the task of telling his story had drained him completely.
‘I’m ready for bed,’ he said, confirming this.
But as he crossed the kitchen Lily sensed a lightness in his bearing. He seemed less burdened.
In the doorway, he stopped and looked back. His blue eyes looked deep into hers and he said, very simply, ‘Thanks, Lily.’
It was like being touched by a flame, the tail of a shooting star.
CHAPTER SIX
BY THE END of the following day, Lily had decided she’d really lifted her act as a housekeeper. She had dusted and vacuumed and polished the dining room to within an inch of its life. She’d wiped down the walls and the ceiling, and she’d washed the lacy curtains and hung them on the clothesline in the back yard to dry. And when she’d brought them inside they’d smelled exactly the way washing powder commercials promised—of lemons and sunlight and fresh air.
She’d also brushed and scrubbed the walls on the front of the house, and swept and hosed down the veranda and its railings. She’d even managed a quick trip into Gidgee Springs to shop, and now the fragrant aroma of chicken and lentils spiced with cumin was wafting through the house.
‘I’m a domestic goddess,’ she announced to the empty house with a chuckle.
As she showered and changed into clean clothes, she heard Daniel’s voice calling from outside in the hallway.
‘Hey, something smells great.’
He sounded happy, and her heart did a crazy tap-dance.
All day she’d been trying to put yesterday’s kiss out of her mind. And on each of the four or five million times she’d remembered how heavenly it had felt to have Daniel’s mouth locked with hers, she’d reminded herself that the kiss had been a spur-of-the-moment impulse. Afterwards he’d made it blatantly clear that he regretted the mistake.
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