Nobody But Him

by Victoria Purman

  ‘Jools, I’ve got a brilliant idea. Why don’t you come to the pub tonight? I’ll wait on you hand and foot and you can relax. We don’t have much time left and I want to hang out with you for a little while before you leave. You can sit by the fire and read a book, drink red wine, just … be.’

  Julia sighed. ‘That sounds great.’

  ‘Come by around seven and we’ll have dinner together. Then you can warm your toes while I keep filling your glass with red wine. On the house, of course.’ Lizzie winked. ‘Don’t tell my boss.’

  Julia found a sad smile. ‘In that case, lunch is on me. I’ll just go and settle the bill.’

  A couple of minutes later, she’d paid for lunch and walked back to the table, where she found Lizzie, staring down at the open newspaper, its inky pages spread over the table.

  Lizzie met Julia’s eyes, her mouth gaped open, her eyes wide and serious.

  ‘What is it?’ Julia asked. ‘Don’t tell me the Middle Point Over-35s netball team has been on the rampage again in Victor Harbor.’

  Lizzie shook her head. ‘You’d better sit down, Jools.’ She twisted the pages around with a rustle so Julia could see the headline the right way up. Right across the top of page three, it read: Abandoned industrial estate to become wetland, housing. Underneath it was a half-page colour illustration portraying what appeared to be a tree-filled, contemporary development, with homes of all shapes and sized tucked into copses of trees, with a network of waterways ribboned through it. And there, underneath it, right in the body of the story, was a headshot of Ry Blackburn. Smiling, successful, suited and so goddamn sexy.

  ‘What?’ Julia could hardly get the word out. She sank back into her chair and tried to concentrate on the words on the page.

  Adelaide developer Ry Blackburn is expanding his stake in Middle Point by announcing plans for a 500 home eco-housing development on the site of the old industrial estate on the Victor Harbor Road.

  Work is expected to begin within months, and will include the creation of a wetland on the site to encourage local endangered wildlife. Mr Blackburn, who owns Blackburn and Son Developments and who recently bought the Middle Point Pub, says this is his first venture outside of the State’s capital.

  ‘We’re thrilled to be transforming this eyesore into a beautiful, tree-filled wetland with affordable housing for people who are looking for peace, a share of the beautiful uncrowded beaches and fresh air of the coast.

  ‘We know people have always loved this part of the world, I certainly have, but there has been a shortage of homes for people on limited incomes or for those who want to downsize as they retire.

  ‘Windswept will not only create beautiful homes for both those groups but will transform this blot on the landscape into something wonderful.’

  Lizzie and Julia sat, shoulder to shoulder, poring over the words and the image.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Julia whispered. She couldn’t believe what she was reading.

  They were her words, right there in the article. The words she’d tossed at Ry like grenades.

  Peace, the beautiful uncrowded beaches, the fresh air.

  The very things that were so important to her were at the heart of Windswept. He’d been trying to tell her something important the night they’d argued on the footpath in front of the pub. She’d accused him of being in it for the money and nothing else, of not caring about Middle Point. She’d rejected him with her cold shoulder and angry words. Words she couldn’t think about now. Couldn’t hear again. She couldn’t believe what she’d said to him.

  Who had she become?

  Lizzie jabbed the paper, tapping the headline.

  ‘He’s cleaning up that old Rumbelow place, building homes for people who can’t afford to live here. Look at the picture. He meant what he said. He is trying to bring people into the town. Real people. Real people who aren’t all doctors and lawyers.’

  Julia gripped the paper until it began to rustle and shake so much the words scrambled like eggs. She let it go and closed her eyes. When she took a heaving breath and opened them, a big plop of a tear plonked onto the newspaper.

  Right in the middle of Ry Blackburn’s face.

  Stop. Breathe.

  The long line of things she’d been trying to outrun, to leave behind, came crashing right into her at that very moment. She had been moving so fast for so long, desperate not to look back, doing anything not to be the girl from Middle Point. But being home again, surrounded by dear friends and familiar places and love from the past, by the beach and her childhood home, her old bedroom and her mother’s things, was all too much to hold in.

  You can take the girl out of Middle Point but you can’t take the Middle Point out of the girl. And she could finally see the truth. She was ashamed of where she’d come from. Had left as soon as she could for something better, finding the bright lights and big city of Melbourne and had made her life work there, mostly through gritted teeth and sheer bloody-minded determination. For fifteen years she hadn’t come back, until she’d been forced to, never wanting to slip back to the person she was trying to leave behind.

  But there was no escaping it. This place was in her bones. It was part of her DNA. It had made her who she was today. And Julia realised she didn’t have a damn clue who that was anymore.

  If she didn’t know herself, there was something she did know for sure. In a blinding flash of clarity, she realised exactly who Ry Blackburn was. He was a decent man. Someone who kept his word. Someone who, it seemed, wanted to create a lasting legacy for the community. She had accused him of being exactly the opposite of all those things.

  They didn’t say a word on the short ride home. While Lizzie drove, Julia clutched the newspaper in her hands, staring at the front page. Windswept sounded wonderful. Her parents had moved to the town thirty years before when prices were low and they’d made a good life together. People in their position couldn’t afford to do that now. Ry was opening up her beloved place to others. He was trying to share it with people and all she’d done was try to deny it, run away from it, erase it from her life.

  Julia’s head was a jumble of pain, of images and memories and confusion as she unlocked her front door. She moved in slow motion and could go no further than the front windows. She begged the ocean to calm her, to let its soothing rhythmic waves lull her into peace. But nothing came.

  All she could hear was Lizzie fussing in the kitchen and the rustle of a plastic shopping bag.

  ‘Jools, sit down. I’ll make us a coffee. I don’t think you need any more wine.’

  Julia walked quietly over to the sofa, sat down and let the racking sobs out. They hurt her ribs and her head, wrenched her gut and grazed her throat. Great, heaving cries for her father. For a young girl who’d said goodbye to her first love and then run away, young and scared out of her wits, to a strange city. For that heartbreak. For every disappointment in her career. For the times she’d been too scared to come home, fearing she would never want to go back to Melbourne.

  And, finally, she allowed herself to cry for her mother. Mary Kinsella. Who would never be Mum to her anymore or Nanna to anyone. A sense of aloneness washed over her in a giant, pounding wave and she felt stranded and alone.

  Lizzie sat next to her. Dearest Lizzie, who had never judged her and wouldn’t start now, she knew that for sure. She waved a wad of tissues in the air like a bouquet of flowers. ‘Thought you might need these.’

  Julia sniffed. ‘Th-thanks.’

  ‘I hope you’re not crying over the bun. I didn’t eat it, you know, although I was tempted.’ She handed Julia a small white plate.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Did you honestly think you could hide this from me by slipping it into the bag with the newspaper? I hope you’re going to share. It looks divine.’

  Julia stared down at the dish and what was on it. A chocolate-iced doughnut from the bakery. Ry must have left it in the bag when he’d given her the newspaper.

  ‘Oh fuck.’ Julia hande
d the plate back to Lizzie. She couldn’t look at it. The damn iced doughnut had become a symbol of everything she’d screwed up.

  ‘I’ve well and truly buggered things up, haven’t I, Lizzie?’

  ‘Yes. That’s why you should eat the doughnut.’

  Julia gently pushed the plate away and stood up to pace the room. ‘Can’t you see, Lizzie? I’ve been wrong about everything. Especially about Ry. I didn’t see him for who he really is, until today. I’ve been so caught up in my own shit, in everything else about who I am, who I’ve always wanted to be. Mostly, who I was trying not to be.’

  ‘You had big dreams, Jools.’

  ‘But why did I have to disown this part of me to achieve them?’ Julia wiped her nose with her sleeve and pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes.

  ‘I need to apologise to you, Lizzie, for the horrible things I’ve said about Middle Point.’

  Lizzie picked up the doughnut and took a huge bite. ‘Consider this a peace offering.’

  Julia blew out an angry sigh. ‘What have I done? I said some awful, truly horrible things to Ry. And he didn’t deserve any of it. I don’t know if he’ll forgive me.’

  Lizzie stopped to look at a chocolaty finger, then regarded Julia inquisitively. ‘Do you want him to forgive you?’

  Julia twisted the tissues in her fingers, tighter and tighter. Did she want his forgiveness? Was it that important to her? Hell yes.

  She nodded vehemently. ‘I’ve made a terrible mistake.’

  ‘Of course you have. I’ve just been waiting for you to realise it. Can’t you see he’s crazy about you?’

  Could it be true? Had she blown her chance with him? Would she have to live with another lifetime of regrets for walking away from Ry a second time?

  ‘Why don’t you come to the pub tonight and have dinner, just like we talked about. You never know who else might be there.’

  Julia nodded a half smile through her tears. ‘You don’t think he’s reinstated my ban?’

  ‘I wouldn’t think so.’ Lizzie licked her lips. ‘Awesome doughnut, by the way.’

  CHAPTER

  22

  Julia sat quietly in Ry’s pub in a worn, soft leather tub chair, a book in one hand, a glass of merlot in the other. Her face glowed from the heat of the flames in the large stone fireplace. She was composed. Peaceful. Serene. Anyone who glanced over at her would have seen a striking brunette, her legs elegantly crossed, her caramel eyes concentrated on a book, her hand slowly swirling her wine in a long-stemmed wine glass.

  Except Julia hadn’t taken in one single sentence. Not even a good book could settle her nerves tonight. She was a total mess. The plain truth of it was that she was scared. No, terrified was more like it. Her head had been spinning since she’d seen the newspaper story about Windswept and read about Ry’s ambitious plans for Middle Point. A part of the world he’d apparently said he loved. A few hundred words in a newspaper and Ry’s handsome photo staring out at her had turned everything she thought she knew on its head. There was so much more to him than she’d given him credit for, and that understanding, that realisation of her own flaws in jumping to such hasty conclusions made her feel embarrassed and sick.

  And now she was desperate for a second chance, to let him know she understood who he really was, and how proud she was of what he was doing. How mortified she was for her own behaviour and her misplaced pride about a place she hadn’t been proud of in such a long time. Ry was the champion of Middle Point.

  As well as hot, handsome and sexy-as-hell.

  Julia lifted her glass to her lips and tried to casually sip her wine, but her mouth felt like cottonwool and her palate was full of the bitter taste of regret. She wondered if the pounding in her head would develop into a full-blown throbber if she drank any more.

  Another glance at the door, which remained stubbornly closed, and Julia felt like the fire was burning inside her chest as well as two metres away in the fireplace. She wrenched the pashmina from her neck and found a use for her book; fanning it to cool her burning cheeks. Why had she sat so close to this raging inferno of an open fireplace? Why was she sitting alone like a shag on a rock in Ry’s pub? Why was she so upset?

  Because he hadn’t turned up. Because she might have just lost her last chance with Ry. And it was nobody’s fault but her own.

  From the bar, Lizzie watched her friend fidget. Every time the door opened, the blustery wind carrying the tang of sea spray into the front bar, Julia startled. She knew her friend was trying hard not to glance at the door every time someone walked in, but was failing. Big time. Lizzie thought back to the afternoon and her heart ached for how much her friend had suffered.

  Lizzie was certain Ry would be at the pub, as he was most nights when he was in town. But the old carriage clock above the bar showed it was eight o’clock and there was still no sign of him.

  The next time the door swung open, it was Dan McSwaine. His hair and his leather jacket, both jet-black, were misted with rain and Lizzie watched him approach the bar, his heavy boots creating a sexy rhythm as he sauntered over to her. Lizzie glanced at Julia, who’d stuck her nose back in her book as soon as she realised it wasn’t Ry. Lizzie’s gaze returned to Dan. He’d been watching her. She returned his grin with a polite smile, hoping like hell he didn’t notice that her heart raced a little faster every time he walked into the room. Probably because she thought he was a pain in the arse. Yes, that must be it. She knew not to trust men who looked like Dan McSwaine. In her experience, they’d never been worth the effort.

  ‘Lizzie.’ He nodded and took a seat at the bar.

  ‘Good evening, Mr McSwaine. What can I get you?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s with the Mr bullshit?’

  ‘It’s called being respectful to your elders.’ She offered him a polite, barely there smile.

  His voice became low and quiet, a sexy smile lighting up his face and zapping her pulse. ‘If we weren’t going to be spending so much time together, with you managing the pub and me working on Windswept, I think I’d have to take you over my knee and spank you for that.’

  His broad grin had no effect on her. Absolutely no effect whatsoever.

  Lizzie’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s a little politically incorrect, don’t you think?’

  Dan crossed his arms and leaned forward on the bar, coming as close to her as he could without leaping over it. He was so close, she could make out the gold flecks in his emerald eyes, and she could see exactly how long his lashes were.

  ‘You feminists take the fun out of everything.’

  She shrugged her shoulders and lowered her voice. Two could play at this game. ‘Not everything.’

  Dan laughed deep and hard, and Lizzie tried not to notice the stray curls of dark chest hair poking over his v-necked T-shirt or his strapping shoulders that stretched the fabric tight. No, she didn’t notice any of it. Lizzie took the chance to reach for a drinks menu and placed it right in front of him, to block out the view of his muscles.

  ‘So, what about that drink?’

  He peered over the menu. ‘I’m about to drive home to Adelaide so it’s a soft drink for me, thanks.’

  ‘Coming right up.’ Lizzie took a furtive glance at Julia over by the fire. Dan caught it and followed her eyes. Julia was flipping the pages of her book back and forth, as if she’d lost her place, and then crossing and uncrossing her legs.

  Lizzie spoke conspiratorially. ‘Ry going back to Adelaide with you tonight?’

  Dan’s gaze drifted slowly back from the fire to Lizzie. ‘No, he’s sticking around here. He’s got a meeting with the local council tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh. Hadn’t seen him tonight. Was just wondering.’ Lizzie grabbed a glass, scooped some ice into it and filled it with soft drink for Dan. She placed it on the bar in front of him and then took a deep breath. She knew what she had to do, but that didn’t make doing it any easier. Even if he acted like he was God’s gift to women, it didn’t mean he had to go without an apolog
y.

  She planted her hands on the bar, summoned her best mea culpa face and looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘Dan, I’ve been meaning to apologise for what I said to you about Windswept. I think the plans are amazing.’

  Dan looked at her like she’d turned into a ghost. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. It looks beautiful.’

  Damn him. He let her words hang there for a beat before his eyes crinkled in a smile. ‘So, you’ve come around.’

  ‘What can I say? I saw the story in the paper and it looks … well, amazing. The houses seem so private, sitting among all the trees, and the wetlands are stunning. It would be heaven to live there.’ She wiped her hands on her apron, trying not to let him see them shake.

  It wasn’t just his smile, she decided. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her edgy.

  ‘So you think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘A girl’s allowed to change her mind, you know.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

  ‘I’m sure you will.’

  He regarded her through narrowed eyes. ‘Maybe you’re not such a naïve hippie after all.’

  Lizzie decided that Dan looked entirely too pleased with himself. ‘And maybe it turns out that you’re not quite the white-shoe-brigade property developer I’d pegged you for.’

  They held the look a moment, something crackling in the air between them.

  Dan lowered his voice and glanced quickly in Julia’s direction. ‘Did she see the paper?’

  Lizzie nodded.

  ‘That’s why he did it, you know. We weren’t going to announce it until next month. Ry wanted to get the local mayor to cut a ribbon and all that stuff. But then he suddenly decided he didn’t want to wait. He got it into his head that Julia had to see what Windswept was all about before she headed back to Melbourne.’

  Lizzie crossed her arms. ‘You’re kidding me. He did all that for her?’

  Dan ruffled his hand through his hair, a lock falling right back on the forehead of his tanned and angular face. ‘So what are we gonna do about those two?’