Little Girl Lost

by Gover, Janet

  When he got back to the Isa tomorrow, he’d apologise to Linda. He was going to be a father. It was time to man up and do the right thing.

  The Coorah Creek town sign flashed past, and instinctively he eased back on the accelerator, driving from habit as his mind continued its uncomfortable musings. When the truck rolled to a stop, he realised he’d pulled up in front of the Coorah Creek store. He had freight on board for Ken, but it was right at the front of the load. He was also carrying stuff for the mine. That would have to be unloaded first. There was no reason to stop at the store.

  But he had.

  For a minute he thought about starting the engine and simply driving on, but Ken – or Sarah – would have seen him pull up. To drive away without explanation would be rude. He reached for the door handle.

  As he walked through the store’s front door, Sarah was just emerging from the door at the back. Her head was turned to look back at someone behind her, and she was laughing. The sound danced through the air between them and he felt as if he was bathed in its glow.

  Sarah turned her head and saw him. The laughter turned to a gentle, happy smile.

  ‘Hi, Pete.’

  How could two words sound better than the greatest symphony ever written?

  ‘Hi, Sarah.’

  She looked amazing. So bright and fresh and so terribly young. His heart skipped a beat, but then reality crashed home to him. She was young. Too young. He had no right to feel a surge of desire for this girl who had once called him uncle. And especially not when back in Mount Isa, Linda was carrying his child and looking to build a life with him. He had to stop himself before he let a passing attraction become more than that.

  ‘I only stopped by to tell you I have a load on board for the mine. It has to come out first. I’ll be back later.’

  ‘Okay.’ Her eyes twinkled as if she was in on some joke of which he was unaware.

  ‘So, I mean, don’t close up if I’m running late. This mine load might take a bit of time.’

  ‘I’ll be here, Pete,’ she said. ‘Waiting for you.’

  There was something in the way she said it. It was an invitation far more appealing than Linda’s kiss last night. But it was an invitation he could never accept.

  ‘Ah, good. Then.’ He turned to go.

  He heard her move behind him. ‘Pete,’ she called.

  He turned. She had opened a fridge and was holding a bottle of water.

  ‘On the house,’ Sarah said. ‘You sound a bit dry.’

  She tossed the water and he caught it.

  ‘Thanks.’

  He didn’t open the water until he was back in the cab of the truck. He twisted the top and took a long deep swallow of the cool liquid. He’d drunk the whole bottle before he moved to touch his ignition. The huge truck moved slowly away from the kerb in the direction of the mine.

  She was waiting for him when he got back to town a couple of hours later. The lights in the store were still on and as he pulled up he could see her through the window. She was moving things around on one of the shelves. He felt it again, that instant surge of longing. What would happen, he wondered, if he didn’t drive away after unloading the supplies for the store? He could suggest they had dinner together at the pub. Just a burger and a beer. There was nothing wrong with that, was there?

  There was, he suddenly realised because, for him at least, it wasn’t just a burger and a beer. The little girl who had held a special place in his heart had grown up and something about her now called to him in a very different way and that was not right. For a start, she was too young. He honestly didn’t know if she was over the legal drinking age. And then there was the situation he now faced. He couldn’t drag someone as young and innocent as Sarah into the mess of his own making. It wouldn’t be fair to her or to Linda.

  Pete determined to unload as quickly as possible and get out of Coorah Creek before he did something he would later regret.

  He opened the back of the truck, and hefted the first couple of boxes.

  ‘Hello again, Pete,’ Sarah said as she opened the door for him and took a careful look at the boxes he was carrying. ‘Could you drop those first few over by those empty shelves, rather than in the storeroom, please?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ he said, determined to make this visit as short and as business-like as he could.

  He set the boxes on the floor and quickly returned to the truck. The second and third loads he carried through to the storeroom, while Sarah opened those first boxes. His curiosity was aroused.

  ‘What have you got there?’ he asked, pausing beside her for a few moments between loads.

  ‘Look!’ Sarah said gaily as she turned towards him, her hands full of brightly- coloured objects. ‘Aren’t they pretty?’

  Pete’s eyes widened with surprise. Sarah was holding out a bunch of toys to him – bright, soft babies’ toys. The sort of toys an expectant parent would buy for a newborn baby. The sort of toys Linda was already looking at in shop windows and online.

  ‘That’s different,’ he managed to say. ‘I’ve never seen your dad carry that sort of thing before.’

  ‘I know.’ Sarah started placing the items onto the empty shelves, moving them around to make an attractive display. ‘But he’s decided the town’s children will always need more toys, and they should buy them here, not from the internet. I hope it works out for him.’

  Pete mumbled something appropriate and turned away for his next load of boxes. By the time he emerged from the stockroom the final time, Sarah was standing back, holding a big yellow teddy bear under her arm as she studied the results of her handiwork. She looked cute, standing there like that. This child who wasn’t a child any more. She’d probably make a great mother some time. A great wife for some lucky man.

  But not for him. The thought struck home like a hammer blow. Some other woman was having his child and that was an end to it.

  ‘Yes. Very nice,’ he stammered. ‘I bet you’ll have no trouble selling those. Well, I’m off. See you again next week.’ He headed for the front door without really giving her time to reply.

  He felt like a coward, but when it came to Sarah he was beginning to suspect running away was the best thing he could do. He had to run away from her because he couldn’t run away from Linda or the child she carried.

  Chapter Eleven

  Max was taking his evening stroll a little earlier than normal. If anyone asked, he would say it was for no particular reason; he’d just finished his work early today. But he knew better. His feet had taken him past the pub, but there was no sign of a Harley parked outside. Crossing the road had brought him to the garage. Again, for no particular reason.

  ‘Hi, Max.’ The garage owner was outside locking up his petrol bowsers for the night.

  ‘How’s things?’ Max asked.

  ‘Not bad at all, thanks.’

  ‘Have you heard from Scott and his nurse?’

  The older man’s face broke into a smile. Until very recently Ed had been estranged from his only son. But Scott had returned last Christmas and they had reconciled before Scott set out for a few years working in England. He’d taken the town’s new nurse with him. She had also been the town’s only nurse, but no one begrudged them their happiness. Coorah Creek was like that. The town’s only doctor, Adam Gilmore, had simply begun looking for a new nurse. The problem with that, of course, was that nurses willing to work in the back of beyond were few and far between.

  ‘They’re great,’ Ed said. ‘Scott’s job at the motor museum is really working out. He’s restoring a 1952 Vincent Black Lightning motorcycle at the moment. I’ve never seen one of those. That’s an added reason for me to make a trip over there to visit him.’

  ‘Speaking of rare motorcycles,’ Max grabbed at the chance he’d just been offered. ‘I assume that, like everyone else, y
ou’ve been admiring the Harley?’

  ‘I have. And I hear tell a few people have been admiring the rider as well.’

  Max shrugged noncommittally. He didn’t want Ed to see that the words brought a flare of jealousy. In his position, he couldn’t be the brunt of any gossip.

  ‘Have you had a chance for a close-up … of the bike?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Ed. ‘She needs petrol and I’m the only servo in town. Seems like a good kid.’

  Max raised a mental eyebrow. He thought he’d asked about the bike. Was Ed becoming a male version of Trish Warren in the matchmaking stakes?

  ‘Anyway, I’m off inside,’ Ed said. ‘I’m Skyping Scott and Katie in the UK soon. Then I’ll be getting dinner at the pub. I’ll buy you a beer if you’re there.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Max turned south, in the direction of the mine, and kept walking.

  The sun was still well above the horizon when he reached the gates to Coorah Creek’s small hospital. The wooden building was set well back from the road, but he could see a couple of cars parked there, one of which he recognised. Ken Travers at the shop drove a green station wagon. He must be seeing Doctor Adam. Max shook his head. The Travers’ family were good people having a pretty tough time of it right now. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.

  He heard the Harley as he was turning to head back to town. It was approaching from behind him. He resisted the urge to turn around. As it came level with him, the bike slowed, and veered to the wrong side of the road. To Max’s side of the road. It was less than a metre from him as it went past. The rider glanced over her shoulder. He couldn’t see her face through the helmet, but he imagined her smile as she raised one arm in salute. Then she gunned the engine, swung back onto the right side of the road and powered away.

  For a moment, the uniform took over. Such disrespect for the law usually led to trouble. And he was pretty sure the bike disappearing down the road was not exactly under the speed limit.

  She was looking for trouble. Teasing him.

  He stopped in mid-stride as the man supplanted the uniform. Wasn’t teasing just another way of saying she was flirting with him? He thought about that for a very long minute, and gradually a smile touched his lips. By the time he had walked back to the garage, the bike was long gone, but Max was whistling.

  He stopped whistling as a large expensive campervan pulled up outside the garage. No. Campervan was the wrong word. Campervan suggested something about the size of an old VW combi van. This was the size of a bus. What the Americans would call a recreational vehicle. The huge motorhome was painted gold and white and had tinted windows. The driver’s side door opened and a man got out. He was dressed in immaculately ironed trousers and shirt. His feet were encased in what looked to Max like very expensive leather loafers. He clearly wasn’t a local. As the man walked towards the locked bowsers, the door in the back of the motorhome opened. The woman who stepped down looked as expensive as the vehicle.

  ‘Hello,’ Max said in his sergeant’s voice as he approached. ‘Welcome to Coorah Creek.’

  ‘Ah, hello.’

  The man’s accent was Australian, but Max would have bet a week’s wages that this bloke had never been more than thirty or forty kilometres from the city before. He would have as little idea of the outback as any overseas visitor.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Well, yes. We need petrol. This beauty sure drinks a lot.’

  Max assumed he meant the vehicle, not his wife.

  ‘We’re heading out to the Tyangi National Park to camp for a couple of weeks. We have a refrigerator and cooking and everything we need on board. We just need petrol and supplies.’

  Max couldn’t help but wonder if they had the knowledge and common sense they needed on board too. He thought probably not, but there was no law against that.

  ‘The garage is closed for the night,’ he said, dragging his errant thoughts back. ‘The store too.’ There was no way he was going to let them disturb the Travers’ family. If Ken was at the hospital, they probably had more important things on their mind than catering for a rich city bloke who hadn’t planned his trip properly. ‘I suggest you spend the night here and stock up in the morning. It’s a fair drive to Tyangi, and you’d be better off getting there in daylight.’

  ‘Yes. I see. Well, that makes sense.’

  And it would also give Max time to ring the park ranger, Dan Mitchell, and tell him these visitors might need his help. Dan would check them out and make sure they weren’t doing anything too stupid or dangerous.

  A childish scream made the blonde woman turn her attention back inside the motorhome.

  ‘Stop it, Dustin, leave your little sister alone,’ she admonished. ‘So help me, I’m sick to death of the pair of you. If you don’t start behaving …’

  ‘Where can we stay?’ the driver asked quickly. ‘It’s been a long drive today and we are all pretty tired.’

  Pretty cranky too, Max thought. At least the wife and kids are.

  ‘There is a campsite down by the river,’ he said. ‘It’s free and there’s no one else there at the moment. At least, there wasn’t yesterday.’

  ‘Ah. Yes …’

  The man hesitated and cast a glance at the open door of the motorhome. His wife had vanished inside and from the raised tone of her voice, she was trying to bring the misbehaving children back under control. Max felt a brief wave of sympathy for the father.

  ‘Of course, if you prefer, there are rooms at the pub. It’s nothing flash, but it’s clean and safe. The publican’s wife cooks a good steak. They’d be happy to take the kids too.’

  A look of relief washed across the man’s face. ‘Yes. That does sound better. There’s not much point going to the trouble of setting up camp for just one night, is there? The pub, you say?’

  Without a word, Max raised a hand and pointed across the street.

  The man examined the building with a look that plainly said beggars couldn’t be choosers. Max felt a little insulted, on behalf of Trish and Syd. They were good people and ran a good pub. The best anywhere. They deserved more respect than they were likely to get from this guy. But then, Max thought, Trish and Syd – Trish in particular – were perfectly capable of dealing with anyone. They didn’t need Max to stand up for them. It might even be interesting to stop by the pub and watch what happened if these city folk so much as raised a questioning eyebrow around Trish.

  ‘There’s no room behind the pub to park something this big,’ Max said. ‘You can park just across the road from here. Pull up parallel to the kerb and you should be well off the road for the night. The vehicle will be safe there.’

  ‘Yes, of course, officer. Thank you.’

  Max kept on eye on the new arrivals as he walked back towards the police station. The driver took several attempts to get the huge vehicle parked properly. That set a few more alarm bells ringing inside his head.

  Once inside his office, he called the ranger station to alert Dan to the impending arrivals. Then he decided to head over to the pub.

  The family had indeed moved in. In the lounge, two kids had their noses buried in a couple of beeping hand-held games, while their mother talked on her mobile phone. The father was in the bar, ordering drinks.

  ‘Thanks for suggesting this.’ The man shook Max’s hand as if he was a long lost friend. ‘My name is Evan Haywood. Can I buy you a beer?’

  Max shook his head. ‘What brings you all the way out here?’

  ‘Family holiday. My wife says I work too hard so she thought it would do us all good to get away from everything.’

  Max glanced through the doorway to the lounge, where the rest of the Haywoods were still engrossed in their electronic gadgets.

  ‘I was wondering if there’s much in the way of aboriginal art out here?’ Haywood asked.

  ‘Thi
s is a small town,’ Max responded. ‘There’s no call for an art gallery here. There might be something in Mount Isa, but I really don’t know.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not looking for a gallery,’ Haywood said. ‘I’m an art dealer. I was thinking while I was here I could check out any local artists. Maybe with work to sell.’

  ‘None that I know of,’ Max said.

  ‘Here’s your drinks.’ Syd placed a small tray with four glasses on the bar. ‘My wife will be over in a moment to take your food order.’

  Haywood frowned as he looked at the tray, before seeming to understand that he had to carry his own drinks to his table. He gingerly picked up the tray.

  ‘I don’t know. City folk,’ Syd said under his breath to Max, raising an eyebrow as he turned to his next customer.

  Max looked once more at the family sitting around the table. The parents were looking at the blackboard menu above the bar, but still it seemed, no one was talking. City folk, indeed.

  Tia spotted the motorhome as she drove into town first thing in the morning after her night shift. She parked the bike outside the store and removed her helmet. She studied the vehicle for a long time, and let out a low slow whistle. She thought her trailer at the mine wasn’t bad for a portable home – but that thing was like a palace. She wished she could see inside.

  Before she could get off her bike, the front door of the store opened, and a family piled out. The father was carrying a huge box of purchases. The mother carried a couple of bags. There were two kids. A boy and a girl. Tia didn’t know enough about kids to guess their ages, but the little girl was particularly cute, with her long blonde hair. She was clutching a big yellow teddy bear that still had the price tag hanging off its ear. She looked over at Tia and her bike, and the brown eyes widened. The little girl moved to the other side of her mother, and peered out at Tia from that place of safety. Tia felt a smile twitching the corners of her mouth as the family walked across the road to climb into the big motorhome.