by Holly Ford
Luke moved in for a closer look. ‘Who’s the other guy?’
‘My dad.’
‘Ah.’ He studied Tom’s portrait intently.
‘Yep, that’s Lizzie’s ex,’ Ella told him.
‘I like this one,’ said Luke, working his way along to her Soho series.
Ella looked over his shoulder. He had a good eye — that was by far the best of the lot, in her opinion.
‘Have you shown these?’ he asked. ‘Are you with a gallery?’
‘No.’
‘I know some people,’ he began.
‘Thanks.’ Ella couldn’t help but smile. ‘But I know some people myself. And my work isn’t ready for a show.’
Luke turned to face her. At the look in his eyes, Ella took a step backwards. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea after all.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, abruptly, with a small shake of his shoulders. ‘I didn’t mean to interfere. I just wanted to help.’
Oh dear. ‘That’s okay. I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to sound rude.’
‘Our wine will be getting cold.’ Luke was smiling, but his voice sounded tired. ‘We should go back to the fire.’
Feeling strangely let down, Ella switched off the bedroom light and followed him back to the table. The fire had died down to a glow. Staring into it, Luke took a mouthful of wine. For someone who’d wanted to talk, he wasn’t saying a lot.
‘Go, if you want,’ he told her, a few minutes later, looking up with a smile.
‘I’m all right.’ Ella poured herself another glass. ‘If it’s okay with you, I thought I might just sit here for a while.’ She passed the wine across the table to him.
‘Thank you.’ Luke took the bottle from her hand.
‘Shall I open another?’ she asked, when his glass was empty again.
‘No.’ He stretched his shoulders. ‘We should both get to bed.’
They carried their glasses inside. Okay, Ella thought, as they walked side by side down the hall to their bedroom doors, this is weird. It’s like we’re some 1950s married couple.
‘Well,’ Luke paused, one hand on the scant bit of wall between her door and his, ‘goodnight.’
Ella looked up at him. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Okay if we leave about nine?’
‘I’ll be ready,’ she said. Turning away, she opened her door.
‘Ella?’
‘What?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing … Just … sleep well.’
‘You, too.’ She closed her door.
As the Aston purred into life the following morning, Ella couldn’t help a small surge of excitement.
‘All set?’ Luke asked.
‘Good to go.’ She gave him an ironic thumbs-up. ‘Should I have a helmet?’
Crikey, maybe I should, she thought as Luke hit the open road.
‘Okay?’ he asked, accelerating out of the first bend.
‘Excellent,’ she told him. She saw him smile as he banged the paddles down another gear.
An hour later, Glencairn’s access road slowed him down a bit, although at least there was no ford. Eventually, the road ahead of them forked.
‘Where shall I drop you?’
Um … Ella looked around. The track to the left wound into a stand of ancient gums above which a pair of stone chimneys rose — that must be the homestead. The right-hand track, she presumed on the basis of knowledge recently acquired, would probably lead to the woolshed, then.
‘Down here, I think,’ she told Luke, hoping the road wasn’t going to get much rougher.
Sure enough, around the next corner, the grey bulk of the woolshed rose. A ute and an old yellow Land Cruiser were parked beside it.
‘Thanks,’ she said, as Luke pulled up.
He smiled into her eyes. ‘Any time.’
Ella clambered out. The expensive thunk of the Aston’s door hung in the still air. The sun hadn’t yet made it over the hills, but already the morning was hot. She waved as Luke drove away.
‘Nice ride.’ Rob walked up behind her, leading a lively-looking grey horse by the reins.
Ella’s heart leapt. Dammit — so, no progress there. In fact, since she’d seen him last, he seemed to have got even more breathtakingly lovely than she remembered.
‘Hello,’ she managed. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I came to have a look at this guy.’ Rob checked the horse’s girth. ‘Carr’s thinking of selling him on.’
Ella tried not to stare too hard as he swung into the saddle. Looking down, he flashed her his beautiful smile.
‘So whose is the car?’
She hesitated. ‘It’s Luke’s.’
‘Luke?’ Rob frowned at the Aston still creeping away up the track. Ella watched his shoulders stiffen. ‘Luke who?’
‘Luke Halliday.’
Rob started. The horse shifted nervously beneath him. ‘What was he doing here?’
‘He’s working with Mum. He stayed at our place last night,’ Ella faltered. ‘I thought you’d know.’
He frowned at her. ‘How would I know?’
Uh-oh. ‘Well, it’s just that …’ She tried to think of a way out.
‘What?’ Rob demanded. The horse stamped a foot.
Ella gave up. ‘Well, he was there when Charlotte dropped round.’
‘Dropped round?’ he repeated. ‘Charlie?’
‘She brought Jules some photographs,’ she explained. ‘Only Jules had gone.’
Rob stared after the car. ‘And Luke Halliday was there.’
‘Yes,’ said Ella, miserably. ‘She seemed upset. I thought …’
‘You thought she would have told me,’ he said coldly.
She took a step back as he steadied the horse.
‘So,’ he said, appearing to remember she was there at last, ‘what brings you here, anyway?’ His face clouded again. ‘Apart from the obvious, I mean.’
‘I wanted to take a few shots around the place, and Carr said he didn’t mind.’ She paused. ‘I’m kind of working on … a thing.’
‘A thing?’ To her enormous relief, Rob smiled. ‘Sounds exciting.’
‘A sort of series, I guess. I started it at Blackpeak.’
‘You know you’re welcome to come back any time,’ he offered, ‘if you want to get some more stuff there. Just give us a yell, let us know where you’re planning to head.’ He glanced up at the cloudless sky. ‘Even on days like today, the high country can turn pretty quickly.’
‘Thanks.’ Ella seized her opportunity. ‘Actually, if you’ve got any fencing to do, I’d love to tag along and get some shots of that.’
‘Fencing?’ Rob looked at her. ‘You realise we do it with wire, right?’
She laughed. ‘It’s something I started with Charlotte and Carr when we flew up to the boundary.’
‘Right. Well, next time we find one to fix, I’ll give you a call.’ He sighed. ‘It shouldn’t be long.’
‘That’d be great.’
‘I’d better go and put this guy through his paces,’ Rob said, ‘before he gets bored and chucks me off.’
‘Good luck.’ With a sigh of her own, Ella watched him trot off up the track.
Chapter NINE
Lizzie parked the Land Rover outside Glencairn’s woolshed with a sense of discomfort that had little to do with the state of the access road. Her presence on Carr Fergusson’s land had to be unwelcome. Feeling like a trespasser, she slid out of the car and, stretching her shoulders after the long drive, stood beside the door, looking around for some sign of Ella.
Hearing a clang from inside the shed, she walked up the steep wooden steps and through the open doors, her feet echoing on the boards. Shafts of sunlight from the high windows above pierced the gloom, but otherwise the shed was dim. She paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust.
‘Lizzie.’ A metre away, Carr, bent over some kind of engine, straightened up in surprise.
‘Oh. Hello.’
Still looking at her, he wiped his oily ha
nds on his shirt.
‘I was looking for Ella,’ she explained.
‘She’s not here.’
Lizzie smiled tightly. ‘I see that.’ She glanced back towards the doors. ‘Well …’
Carr bent over the engine again. ‘Pass me the socket wrench, will you?’ He hesitated. ‘It’s—’
‘I know what it is.’ Picking out the tool from the bag she’d been about to stumble upon, she held it out to him.
‘Thanks.’ He took the wrench from her hand. ‘I was going to say “it’s beside you”.’
Lizzie was silent. Fascinated despite herself, she watched the muscles in his forearms move as he began to strip the engine down. His voice made her jump.
‘Ella tells me you’d like to see the Opal Lakes.’ Carr looked at her. ‘I can take you up one day if you want.’
‘Is it far?’
‘About a twenty-minute flight.’
God, those eyes of his were disconcerting. Lizzie returned their gaze as strongly as she could. She wasn’t sure she’d feel at ease if she had to share a bus with the man, never mind a helicopter ride.
‘Is there a track?’ she asked.
‘You could say that.’ Turning back to his work, Carr unscrewed another bolt. ‘Hunters use it sometimes. It’s a nine-hour walk — more, maybe, if you don’t know it. The rock sections aren’t too easy to find. If you’re shooting up there, you’d want to fly the crew in.’
‘Actually …’ She hesitated. But it had to be done. Lizzie took a deep breath. ‘Rob and Charlie are coming over for dinner on Sunday for a chat about that sort of thing. You should come, too.’
He looked up at her again. She forced herself to smile. There was a moment’s pause.
‘All right,’ he said.
‘Oh, good,’ Lizzie lied.
Carr stood up. He took a step towards her. Unaccountably, Lizzie found herself unable to breathe. Sinking easily back to his haunches at her feet, he began to go through his tool bag.
‘Seb and Jules,’ he said, ‘got away all right?’
‘Yes.’ Lizzie pulled herself together. ‘Fine.’ She tried not to stare at the broad stretch of his shoulders.
‘And your other friend — Richard.’ Carr rose languidly. ‘Is he gone, too?’
Unwilling to look up into his face, Lizzie kept her eyes on his chest.
‘Richard’s back in London.’ At least, he was so far as she knew.
She could smell the engine oil on Carr’s skin. His hands, she noticed, were empty of tools. Even as she thought it, as if feeling the need to grasp something, they flexed.
‘Hi!’
Lizzie leapt as though she’d been stung. Taking a step backwards, she turned. ‘Darling! There you are.’
‘Here I am,’ Ella said.
‘Well,’ said Lizzie brightly, ‘we should be going.’ She beat a retreat to the door. ‘See you for dinner on Sunday,’ she added, with the barest of glances at Carr. ‘Drinks at five.’ Without waiting to hear his reply, she scurried back to the Land Rover.
‘Did you get what you wanted?’ she asked Ella, as she drove out.
‘I got some decent shots.’ Her daughter grinned. ‘Sounds like you got a date.’
‘What?’ Lizzie frowned. ‘Oh, don’t be silly, darling. It’s a meeting, not a date.’ Oh dear God. He couldn’t have thought that — could he? No, of course not, she told herself. That would be ridiculous. She’d made it perfectly clear. ‘He’s the last man in the world I’d ask out,’ she added, uncomfortably.
‘Okay, Mum.’ Ella switched the stereo on. ‘Whatever you say.’
‘Do you mind?’ Lizzie skipped to the next CD. She wasn’t in the mood for snake-hipped heartbreakers singing songs to the wrong girls.
Six days later, Luke’s text caught Lizzie between making mango sambal, soaking satay sticks, and marinating two different batches of chicken. Having texted him back a hurried ‘yes’, she promptly forgot all about him again until his car pulled up in the drive.
‘Oh! Here’s Luke,’ she said, not without a degree of relief, as he made his way up to the terrace, a bottle of wine in his hand. Hopefully he might liven things up a bit; conversation with Charlotte and Carr was far from flowing.
‘Evening all.’ Putting the wine down, Luke leaned over and kissed Lizzie’s cheek before taking a chair beside her. Oh dear, she thought, as he looked around — that was an odd expression he had on his face. She should have told him she had company; then again, she would never have picked him as the type to be shy with strangers.
‘You made good time,’ she told him, smiling to put him at ease. ‘Let me introduce you to everyone. Luke, this is—’
‘We’ve met.’ Charlotte pushed back her chair. Her face, Lizzie saw, was as white as a sheet. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked off across the lawn.
‘Excuse me.’ Getting to his feet, Luke hurried after her.
What the hell? Lizzie stared after them. At the edge of the vines, Luke caught up with Charlotte and — somewhat ambitiously, Lizzie thought, given the state of the girl — tried to put a hand to her arm. Shaking him off with some violence, Charlotte increased her pace down the row.
‘What’s he doing here?’
Lizzie turned to find Carr glaring across the table at her.
‘We’re doing a property deal together,’ she was startled enough to admit, before remembering that it was absolutely none of his business.
‘You should be careful,’ he told her, a touch of ice in his usually expressionless tone, ‘who you bring into your home.’
Jesus! Lizzie stared back at him in disbelief. How dare he? Of all the people to tell her who she should and shouldn’t invite—
‘Charlie almost married that guy.’
‘Luke?’ Lizzie’s disbelief widened. How could that possibly be? She pressed her hand to her mouth. ‘My God. I had no idea.’
Carr’s eyes bore into her accusingly, but whatever else he might have been planning to say was interrupted by Rob’s arrival back at the table. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. Lizzie winced. The ghost of lovers past. Who didn’t know that feeling?
Ella, following him around like a faithful Labrador, took his empty glass.
‘I’ll get you some more wine.’
Excusing herself on the grounds of checking the food, Lizzie followed her inside.
‘Did you know about Charlotte and Luke?’
Ella squirmed. ‘Luke told me.’
‘And you didn’t feel the need to pass it on?’ She shook her head. ‘For heaven’s sake, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I guess … Well, it seemed kind of private. And anyway,’ her daughter defended herself, ‘I didn’t know Luke was coming back.’
Ugh. Lizzie rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘He texted this morning to say he was on his way through and could he drop in. Sure, I said. Come on in, we’re having a party.’
‘You weren’t to know.’
‘Apparently not,’ she snapped. ‘Perhaps you could tell that to Carr Fergusson.’
‘Carr? What, did he say something to you?’ Ella smiled. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘He acted like I’d done it on purpose.’
‘I’m sure he didn’t mean that — and anyway, since when do you care what Carr thinks?’
Lizzie opened the fridge. ‘I don’t.’ Reaching the salad out, she tossed it with more violence than necessary.
‘Is that really what’s upset you?’ Ella watched her suspiciously.
Lizzie said nothing.
‘Have you heard,’ Ella asked carefully, ‘how Richard got on in LA?’
‘No,’ she said, too quickly.
‘Mum—’ Ella began.
‘Darling, I’m fine. Are you going to take that wine out?’
Ella, with a look that suggested she’d be back to finish her sentence some other time, obeyed.
Right. Lizzie wiped her hands on the tea towel. She must have got through more awkward dinners than this; she just could
n’t remember one offhand. Bloody Jules. It was all her fault. She knew she should never have agreed to help her out. With a deep breath, she took the chicken out of the fridge and carried it outside.
The atmosphere on the terrace was no better than she’d expected, and continued throughout dinner. Ella, though still paying too much attention to Rob for Lizzie’s liking, did her best, and Luke, in response, was close to his usual charming self. Rob, bless his heart, made an effort to be civil. But Charlotte — and, less excusably, Carr — spoke only when directly addressed, and even then could barely put two syllables together. Only Luke, it seemed, was prepared to be a grown-up about whatever it was that had happened between Charlotte and him. And he had by far the worst of the evening, so far as Lizzie could see. Charlotte, after all, was on home ground, among friends, not to mention with a new man, and a spectacular one at that; Luke was single, alone and outnumbered. Lizzie felt awful for him. In fact the only person at the table she didn’t feel sorry for — she cast a glance at Ella, who was surreptitiously staring at Rob — was Carr bloody Fergusson. What did he have to glare about? His heart wasn’t in any danger.
At least it was over early. Rob had barely put down his fork before Charlotte started saying their goodbyes.
‘Thanks for dinner,’ Charlotte managed. ‘It was—’ Her eyes met Lizzie’s. ‘The chicken was lovely.’
Rob stood up. ‘We’ll talk about locations another time.’
Lizzie watched them drive away. She expected Carr to leave hot on their heels, but to her dismay he stayed right where he was, brooding into the fire. With a sigh, she began clearing plates.
‘Do you think there’s much point in serving dessert?’ she asked, as Ella carried the rest of the dishes into the kitchen. Lizzie peered in at the roulade waiting in the pantry.
Ella let out a long breath. ‘Do we have to?’
‘You know’ — Lizzie closed the pantry door — ‘I don’t think we do.’
She studied her daughter thoughtfully. ‘You were talking to Rob for a good while tonight.’
Ella’s chin went up. ‘I was talking to Luke, too.’
‘Yes,’ Lizzie told her, ‘but you’re not interested in him.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘Oh, come on, darling. He’s not your type at all.’