Jilted

Ellie came to a stop, realizing that she’d made it to the cottage without running into trouble. She couldn’t help but smile at this small success. At the end of an avenue off the main street, it was just as she remembered. Only Matilda could get away with living in a quirky, bright purple house, complete with red roof and yellow awnings. Or rather, half-repainted yellow awnings. She closed her eyes for a second, cringing as she imagined the sixty-nine-year-old up there on a ladder doing the painting herself.

“Why must you do such ridiculous things?” Ellie said aloud, looking at the house. If Mat wanted to court danger, she should go bungee jumping or something on one of her holidays. As a respected and once well-known travel writer, money couldn’t be an issue for her. And even if it were, Ellie would have paid for the whole damn house to be painted, renovated and decked out in brand-new furniture. Anything to prevent her godmother from taking such a fall. And from that height, she was lucky not to have done much worse than a broken ankle.

Ellie shuddered. If Matilda hadn’t injured herself, she wouldn’t be here. Life could change direction in an instant; every little decision had the power to affect your existence in unfathomable ways. And other people’s. Sometimes Ellie thought it a miracle people had the courage to get out of bed in the mornings.

Enough philosophizing, she told herself. She had keys to find, cars to start, crazy old women to collect and mollycoddle. Because, by golly, Matilda would be mollycoddled. Her godmother never sat still long enough for Ellie to do anything much special for her, to repay her for all she’d done, but now she wouldn’t have a choice. Ellie would do everything she could to make Matilda feel loved. She planned on being so focused and dedicated to her role as carer that she wouldn’t have time to think or stress about what the locals were saying behind her back.

Although the plastic frog had jumped to the other side of the old wooden veranda, the key was still there, tucked inside, just as Ellie suspected. She stood on the hot-pink welcome mat where she’d first landed as a confused and heartbroken fifteen-year-old, then let herself in, smiling at the bombardment of familiar smells. Matilda had been in hospital for two days now, but this place was so infused with aromatherapy essences that Ellie reckoned it would smell like a flower shop even if she’d been gone a year.

Dumping her bags in the living room, Ellie quickly tidied the kitchen table, wanting the house to be in order for Matilda’s return. Her thoughts turned to dinner and what from her limited repertoire she might prepare, but when she opened the fridge, and then the pantry, dismay set in. Both empty, bar half a packet of sugar, two tins of baked beans, some old crackers and Moroccan mint tea bags. What on earth did Mat live on? Whatever the answer, one thing was clear: Ellie would have to go shopping. Deep down she’d known she couldn’t hole up in the cottage for the duration of her stay, but it had been a lovely fantasy. Still, it was just after midday. Mat would have eaten lunch already and Ellie couldn’t wait to see her.

She found the car keys in the leaf-shaped bowl in the hall and was about to leave when she decided on one final touch. Racking her brain, trying to recall what she’d learned about essences and oils while living in this house, Ellie remembered something about lemon and ylang-ylang being good for convalescing. Once a few drops were in two of Mat’s many burners and the candles lit, she smiled and left the cottage.

She started the vintage Holden Premier and turned toward the hospital. Once out on the road, however, the calm instilled in her at the cottage quickly dispersed. Whatever way she looked at it, she’d have to deal with someone at the hospital—nurses, doctors, orderlies, who knows? More nervous than she ever was in front of the camera, she chomped down hard on her lower lip, hoping the pain would distract from the worry. She knew that once she saw Matilda and had been enveloped in one of her magical hugs she could face anything. No one would dare to say a word to her in her godmother’s presence. All she had to do was get there. Because, despite what the town thought of Ellie, Mat was a well-respected resident. She was almost a local dignitary due to all the books she’d published, not to mention the fact she did so much charity work. She was held in such esteem that most overlooked her slightly wacky way of living and dressing, while others wholeheartedly embraced her quirkiness.

Sucking air into her lungs, Ellie found a parking space right outside the entrance and gave herself a final pep talk.

“Think of it as a test. If you survive this, the town will be a piece of cake.”

Inside the small, one-ward hospital, she found the front desk unmanned. A sign informed her that the receptionist was on lunch and all inquiries were to be directed to the nurses’ desk. One hurdle down.

Ellie headed along the familiar corridor. She’d been here many a time in her teens when Flynn had broken limbs or dislocated things on the football field. Nothing had changed. She kind of hoped there’d be another sign on the nurses’ desk directing her back to reception—then she’d simply hunt Mat down on her own.

She had no such luck. Behind the desk stood a glamorous nurse in a short medical ensemble that looked more appropriate for a fancy dress party than the requirements of the job.

The nurse looked up as Ellie padded toward her. She flicked a long, blond ponytail over one shoulder and her perfect green irises glistened as if she were a pirate laying eyes on a monumental treasure.

“Well. Well. Well.” She looked slowly up and down as if assessing Ellie’s less-than-fashionable attire. “If it isn’t Elenora. The runaway bride returns.”

Pain speared Ellie’s chest. At the nurse’s reference to one of the most regrettable moments of her life, she summoned all she’d learned in front of the camera and tried for an air of polite indifference.

“Lauren.” Ellie smiled tightly, quaking inside. At the same time, she clocked the nurse’s ring finger, her heart relaxing at the absence of any marital bling. Lauren Simpson had always had her sights on Flynn. “I’m here to collect Matilda. Can you tell me her room number, please?”

Lauren scoffed. “This isn’t the big smoke, princess. We don’t have hundreds of rooms to choose from. She’s the second door on the left. I’ll get her discharge papers ready.”

“Thank you.” As Ellie turned, she screwed up her face in disbelief. Some things never changed. On the other hand, never would she have imagined Lauren becoming a nurse. But all thoughts of her archenemy left as she came to Matilda’s door, which was slightly ajar. The room was quiet and dimly lit, the antithesis of its occupant. She peered in, noting two foot-shaped lumps at the end of the bed.

“Mat?” she called, knocking at the same time.

There was slight movement under the covers and then a loud shriek. “Is that you, girl? Jeez, Els, you don’t have to knock. Get yourself in here quick smart.”

Grinning, Ellie pushed the door but almost stumbled as she caught sight of her godmother. She tried to hide the shock on her face. Mat looked ghastly. Usually a towering, well-built woman, she now seemed frail and tiny in this hospital bed. Her face was sallow, and gray bags drooped under her big brown eyes despite the enforced rest.

“What are you gawping at, sweet?” came Matilda’s disapproving voice. “Never seen a sick old woman before? Get over here and give us a cuddle.”

Relaxing, Ellie rushed to the bed and climbed up alongside her old friend. “The only thing sick about you is your sense of humor.” She laughed into Mat’s hair as they wrapped their arms around each other and clung tightly. “Golly, it’s good to see you again.”

They stayed like that for an aeon before Matilda, her voice slightly choked, pulled back, tugged off Ellie’s cap and tucked the stray strands of hair behind her ears. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me. Hysterics won’t get me out of this prison. Which better be why you’re here.”

“Why else?” Ellie shrugged and recognition flashed between them.

Matilda opened her mouth as if about to speak but Lauren swanned into the room.

“Afternoon, Ms. T,” she said with a warmth Ellie had never witnessed in her before. Ever. “Looks like today’s your lucky day.” She turned to Ellie. “Sheila, the other nurse on duty, will be in to help Ms. Thompson get ready. If you can come with me, I’ll run you through her pain relief medication and hire you out a wheelchair.”

No, was what Ellie wanted to say. I’ll just stay right here, while you fetch the chair and tablets. But perhaps she was overreacting, her imagination getting away with her. Although Lauren’s red fingernails were inappropriately long for a nurse, how much damage could she really do?

“Okay,” Ellie said. She leaned over and kissed Matilda on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

They were barely out of Mat’s earshot before Lauren started. “You’ve got some nerve coming back here.”

“Still predictable, I see,” Ellie replied, before she thought better of it. Probably not a good idea to bait the wildcat.

Lauren froze. Her eyes narrowed and her hands moved to her hips. “What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

For a split second Ellie felt as if she were back in high school. “I thought you might have come up with something more original, but no, you said what I’m expecting everyone will say.”

Ellie saw her opponent’s fists bunch. “Whatever. You think you’re so fabulous, don’t you? Well, not in Hope you’re not. Apart from Matilda, no one wants you here. Especially not Flynn.”

Ellie’s rib cage tightened. She didn’t want to talk about Flynn, especially not with Lauren. With false calm, she tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. “I’m only here for Mat.” Damn, even she could hear the crack in her voice. “So if you don’t mind telling me what I need to know about her painkillers and recovery, I’d like to take her home, please.”

“Always about you,” muttered Lauren. She turned and headed back toward the nurses’ station.

Fifteen minutes later and not nearly quickly enough, Ellie and Sheila had Matilda settled as best they could in the front seat of the golden Premier.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?” Ellie asked as she reversed the beast out of the parking spot.

Matilda shuffled slightly in her seat. “Don’t worry about me. Did she leave claw marks?”

Ellie summoned a chuckle. Typical Matilda, worrying about everyone else when she needed all her energies for herself.

“You mean Lauren? She didn’t bother me. I just can’t believe she’s a nurse.”

“Stranger things have happened at sea,” Mat surmised, quoting one of her favorite phrases. “Besides, everyone knows she only did it for the cute, wealthy doctors.”

Ellie couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Has she had any luck?”

“None whatsoever!” Matilda roared. “Oh, we’ve had plenty of eligible doctors pass through. All are more than happy to pamper her desires while in town. But much to her dismay, none of them ask her to go with them when they move on.” Matilda paused, then added with a wicked tone, “Perhaps she should have become an actress instead.”

Ellie’s laugh was drier this time. “Trust me, there’s no surefire success there, either.”

On-screen and off, the best love she’d ever had was during her time in Hope Junction. Misfortune had played a hand in the demise of that relationship, and she’d been unlucky in love ever since.

“Here we are,” she announced.

A fact about small-town life: it didn’t take any time at all to get from one place to another, which wasn’t always a good thing. Travel time had its perks— opportunities to ponder, talk, read or just rest. But Matilda’s whole face lit up as she stared delightedly at her cottage.

“Now we just have to work out how to unfold the wheelchair and get you inside.”

An “ugh” escaped Matilda’s lips and the joy on her face softened. She gestured to her plastered limb. “If this is God’s idea of a joke, I’m crossing to the dark side.”

Ellie smiled. She wasn’t sure she believed in God—some days she did, some she didn’t, and some it didn’t seem possible that there wasn’t a divine creator of some kind. More often than not she had her doubts. Matilda’s beliefs weren’t conventional, either.

“Perhaps God is just trying to tell you to slow down, rest a little.”

Matilda aimed her middle finger skyward. “Bollocks to that.”

CHAPTER THREE

AT THE HAMMERING on his front door, Flynn shook his head and stumbled from the couch. He’d been there for the past couple of hours, staring at a mark on the wall. His stomach groaned, alerting him to the fact it was probably way past lunch.

“Flynn, what are you doing in there?” Lucy’s high-pitched shout shot through his head. “You’d better be ready.”

“What are you talking about?” He opened the door and felt his body tighten at the sight of his little sister. Dressed in black tights, ridiculously high-heeled boots, a long-sleeved T-shirt that looked three sizes too small and a skirt he practically needed a magnifying glass to see, Lucy was doing a fabulous impersonation of a street-side hooker. He couldn’t imagine why his mom was letting her loose like that. Maybe she’d used up all her parenting energies dealing with him in his wayward years.

“Flynn!” She seethed angry air between her teeth and held up her chunky Hope Hurricanes purple-and-orange scarf, proceeding to wave it in his face. “You’re supposed to be driving me into town for the game.” She looked him up and down, her eyes widening as she took in his holey track pants and scruffy sweater. “And you’re supposed to be playing.”

“Damn.” The game had completely slipped his mind. He rubbed his forehead, which had been pulsing with nonstop pain since he’d heard about Ellie. Running up and down the oval, tackling sweaty blokes and kicking out his tension could be just what he needed, but the rest of it... Having to make small talk, knowing that everywhere he looked people would be talking about him, pitying him. He needed that about as much as a rhino in his top paddock.

“You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?”

“No,” he snapped, giving a quick nod to her outfit. “I was just thinking that I should get you an overcoat. You’ll freeze in that, not to mention give the boys a heart attack.”

“You’re not my father, Flynn. Even if you act as if you’re about ninety-five.” She lifted her chin, daring him to disagree.

“Thank the Lord,” he replied, beginning to soften. But Lucy’s words made him think. Did he really give off that impression? Was he turning into an old grump? Or was it just all the talk of Ellie that had put him off balance?

“Besides,” she continued, oblivious to the churnings of his mind. “This is what all the girls are wearing. You don’t want me to be an outcast, do you?”

Flynn had to hide a grin. She was such a drama queen, but her antics were distracting him from thoughts of his ex and lifting his mood. That had to be a good thing.

“Luce, you could never be an outcast. You’re gorgeous, intelligent and, most important, you’re my sister. That’s pretty much got you covered.”

“Hardy-ha,” she replied, but her full-blown smile told him she’d forgiven his grumpiness.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, turning toward his bedroom to throw on his gear. He’d play the game, let off some tension and make a quick retreat before anyone could corner him. Footy would help clear his head.

Five minutes later, Flynn turned the ute onto the main road into town. Lucy switched on the radio, grinning as Paul Kelly came blaring out. Paul was the one sound they both liked. The twelve years between them meant there weren’t many such bands.

Trying to relax, Flynn tapped his fingers on the steering wheel along to the music. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucy shift in her seat to face him.

“You and Ellie could’ve been like this song.”

He cringed. As if the end of their relationship hadn’t been tragic enough. He’d never spoken about Ellie with Lucy, or about what happened after she’d left, and he didn’t plan on starting now. Lucy was now the age he and Ellie were when they started going out, but she wouldn’t understand. She had one hyped-up crush after another but never stayed with a boy long enough to fall in love.

When he didn’t reply, she elaborated. “I reckon Ellie did you a favor running off. I mean, I don’t really remember her and she may have been really nice, but Ms. Dawes, our sex-ed teacher, says teen marriages are twenty times more likely to end in divorce than other marriages.”

“Is that right?” Frankly, he would have liked the chance to have been in on the decision whatever the outcome of their would-be marriage.

“Uh-huh. Not that that old troll would know,” she giggled. “I don’t reckon anyone’s ever asked her to marry them.”

Flynn let out his breath, thinking Lucy had moved on to other thoughts. Just to make sure, he raised a new topic. “So, how’s school going? Mom said you’re doing well.”

“S’pose so. Doesn’t really matter. For the things I wanna do, I don’t need uni.”

“You’re seventeen, Luce, you have no idea what you want to do.”

“Shut up, Flynn, there you are acting all ancient again. You’re so boring. No wonder Ellie left you.” She gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth.

Flynn’s whole body clenched. He’d never entertained the possibility that Ellie had thought him boring—he still didn’t—but the words hurt more than he cared to admit. She had chosen a showbiz career and life in the city over a partnership on the farm. Her dreams were bigger than rural Western Australia. And him.

“I’m sorry, Flynn. That was out of line.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“And it’s crap, too. No one thinks you’re boring. Jeez, my friends all idolize you and the women in town all drool over you. You could have anyone you want.”

He chuckled at the irony. “Perhaps the three women in my life are enough?”

“Three!” Lucy shrieked. “Who’s the... Ooh, me, Mom and Gran.” She looked disappointed. “I thought I was going to be the first to know something exciting.”

“Yep. You, Mom and Gran.” He reached out and rubbed her head affectionately.

“Hey, don’t mess the hair.” She lifted a hand for protection but smiled nevertheless.

For the rest of the journey, Lucy nattered on about the girls at school, the boy they all craved and their plans for Schoolies Week, which, thankfully, was still six months away. It may have been over a decade since Flynn had partied on Rottnest Island during Schoolies, but he knew things wouldn’t have changed too much. Seventeen-year-old boys had one thing on their mind and one thing only.

“Crap, we’re late,” Lucy said as Flynn pulled into the oval and searched for a place to park. Already the field was bordered with cars, people sitting on hoods, eating pies and drinking soft drinks, waving banners as they waited for the game to start. Stupidly, he scanned the crowds for Ellie—she’d been a faithful supporter of the Hurricanes and never missed a game when she lived here, but of course, things were different now. Even if she were in town, it was unlikely she’d make a game of country football a high priority.

Lucy practically jumped out the car before he’d put the hand brake on, and definitely before he’d taken the keys out of the ignition.

“Come straight back here after the game,” he yelled, pretty certain she didn’t hear him, or at least didn’t want to.

* * *

DURING THE MATCH, Flynn didn’t look at the crowd and tried not to make eye contact with his fellow players. He scored more goals than he had in a while but not enough to give the Hurricanes the victory they’d been missing lately. When it was over, he went to wait for Lucy. He knew his quick departure would provide more fodder for the gossips, but that didn’t make him any more inclined to stay around.

Lucy took her sweet time, though, eventually arriving with a giggling teenage friend on each side. Opening the passenger door, she leaned into the car. “I’m going to Kara’s,” she announced.

Flynn opened his mouth to object—no way was he hanging in town while she had fun with the girls—but she got in first.

“I’ve already called Mom and she’s fine with it. She said I can stay over and she’ll pick me up after church tomorrow.” She stepped back next to her friends.

“Fine.” Flynn’s hand was already poised on the gearstick when pale, delicate fingers—complete with red nails—reached out to hold open the passenger door.

“Hiya, Flynn.”

Flynn fought the urge to shuffle closer to the driver’s door as Lauren Simpson slipped into the passenger seat. It was hard not to ogle her ample cleavage, which was only further accentuated by her tight silver top. Not many got away with such outlandish fashion in Hope Junction, and most simply wore Hurricanes sweaters to the game, but Lauren was stunning and on her it worked. Still, he’d never found her kind of beauty attractive.

She rested one of her perfect hands on his thigh. He tensed, cursing himself for not changing out of his footy shorts.

“You’re not going home, are you, Flynn?” Her singsong voice grated on his nerves.

“Actually...” That’s exactly where he planned on heading. The last thing he wanted to do was socialize right now.

“I understand,” she began, in an annoyingly sympathetic tone, “that today would have been difficult for you. But it’s times like these you need to be around friends. People who care about you, people who understand you.” Her nails drifted a little higher up his thigh. “What do you say? Come to the pub with us?”

He looked past Lauren to see Lucy a few meters away. She was beaming like a loony and holding both thumbs up. Go on, she mouthed at him theatrically.

“Who’s us?” asked Flynn. He didn’t want Lauren getting any ideas.

“Oh, you know, the usual crowd. Rats will be there.”

Rats, nicknamed so because he’d had a rat’s tail haircut since he was in kindergarten. That is, until a few weeks ago when he proposed to Whitney, who refused to accept unless he cut it off. Rats, who just happened to be the best mate Flynn had.

He still didn’t want to go. Pubs hadn’t been real appealing since his father’s accident, when he’d been forced to get his life back on track. But this wasn’t just about the pub. Maybe he should make an appearance and hold his head up high. Show everyone he didn’t need their sympathy, that ten years was a long time. Definitely long enough for him and Ellie to be in the same shire without him losing the plot. Again.

“Do you need a lift, then?” He forced a smile to his lips.

“Sure.” Lauren’s face lit up. She poked her head back out the car for a moment. “Meet you there, girls.”

“Shove over. We can fit,” said a voice from outside.

Flynn leaned forward to wave at Emma and another local chick, Linda.

“I don’t think so.” Lauren pulled the door shut before they could negotiate. “Drive on, Flynn. They’ll be fine.”

Ignoring Lauren, he pushed a button to wind down the passenger window. “If you ladies want, you can hop on the back.”

Giggles and shrieks ensued as Flynn hitched the girls up onto the tray. He took the opportunity to pull his jeans out of his bag and tug them on before getting back in. He barely had three hundred meters to drive, so there wasn’t much danger. Not on the road, anyway.

When Flynn opened the door at the top pub for Lauren and her friends, however, the hackles rose on the back of his neck. It wasn’t that he never came to the pub, but it was rare. Years ago this joint had been his first port of call whenever he’d wanted to drown his sorrows. The place they came whenever they lost a game of football—which hadn’t been nearly as often back then—and always where they came to celebrate a win. After Ellie had left he’d come even more. It had become his second home.

Back then, he’d step inside and smile. The aroma of cigarette smoke mixed with beer, sweat and cheap perfume always comforted. The run-down decor? Strangely alluring. The music? Exactly what he would have chosen. The people? Folks he’d grown up with, folks he’d die for. Folks he knew would do the same for him.