by Paige Toon
‘That’s understandable,’ he says, and for a split second I think he’s going to reach over and take my hand. But he doesn’t.
‘I’d invite you in, but he’s been a bit funny about visitors,’ I say as we come to a stop outside Dad’s house.
‘It’s okay. I should be heading back, anyway. I’ll pick you up around eleven on Sunday. Maybe we’ll get a bite to eat at a pub on the way?’
‘Sounds perfect.’ I spin round and flash him a smile as I walk up the path. ‘See you then.’
Chapter 16
On Sunday, I wake up to a sky filled with heavy black clouds. As the morning wears on, the air becomes increasingly hot and humid, and there’s a strong northerly wind. It is the worst sort of weather.
‘Not a good day to be going out bush,’ Liz says pointedly.
It’s a futile warning, because I’m going, rain or shine.
Ethan texted earlier to tell me to wear boots because there are snakes lurking in the grass.
‘Take a raincoat as well,’ Liz says when I emerge from my bedroom wearing a dark-green summer dress, teamed with cowboy boots.
Jeans would be sweltering, but I don’t feel right in a knee-length dress, either. ‘Thunderstorms are forecast,’ she adds.
‘Be careful,’ Dad adds, and I flash Liz a dark look for scaremongering him.
‘I’ll be fine, Dad,’ I promise, keeping one eye on the window.
A few minutes later, Ethan’s willow-green Jaguar E-Type convertible hums into our street. I give Dad a hug and practically skip out of the door.
‘Howdy,’ I say to Ethan with a grin, climbing in and buckling up. I breathe in deeply and feel a bubble of happiness burst inside my stomach.
‘Okay?’ he asks, his tanned hand resting on the gearstick.
‘Desperately.’
He grins and pulls away from the kerb.
I’ve left my hair down, but the moment we’re on the highway, I acknowledge my mistake. Ethan laughs as I squeal and try to hold my flyaway strands down with my hands.
‘I’ll be crying later when I have to drag a hairbrush through this mess,’ I complain jokily, raising my voice over the sound of the Jag.
‘That’s why I keep mine short,’ he says.
I smirk and instinctively run my hand over the back of his head before giving up and letting my hands fall into my lap. I’m not going to worry about my hair on top of everything else.
Soon the highway gives way to winding country roads. It feels like we’re being blasted with a giant hairdryer as we speed along, the scent of ever-present eucalyptus mingling with the smell of leather and oil from the classic car’s seats and engine. The banks are covered with cream-coloured stones and, when I look over my shoulder, I see that we’re leaving clouds of dust in our wake. Even the leaves on the trees look like they’re coated with a fine film. It hasn’t rained for way too long.
We stop at a country pub, sitting inside where we’re sheltered from the heat by thick, blue-stone walls. There are a few locals hanging out at the bar, watching the cricket on the telly.
Ethan is wearing a faded blue T-shirt and grey shorts with chunky brown boots. We’ve both ordered fish and chips.
‘Can you put the roof up in the car?’ I ask him, dipping a chip into some ketchup.
‘Yeah,’ he replies. ‘Might put it up when we get there, just in case it rains while we’re walking.’
‘Is the property very big?’
‘Fifty acres.’
‘Fifty acres?’ I gape at him.
‘We’ll only plant four to start with,’ he says.
I run my fingers through my hair to try to detangle it. ‘I must look as though I’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.’
‘It suits you like that,’ he replies flippantly. ‘All wild and windswept.’
I glance at him, a shiver rippling down my spine as his green-eyed gaze drifts to my mouth. It lingers there for a moment before dropping to my hand. My left hand, specifically. My ring finger, most likely.
I’m left feeling oddly shaken as I turn back to my lunch.
Something has shifted between us. It’s a subtle change, but it’s unmistakable.
I’m still feeling on edge during the next leg of our journey. We don’t say much, but the atmosphere feels charged as I stare out at the wide-open spaces, old hollowed-out trees and occasional kangaroo’s ears poking up above long, dry grass.
Eventually Ethan pulls onto a dirt road, stopping at a wire gate that he has to open and close again after driving through.
‘We can only drive in so far because the ground is rocky,’ he tells me, sounding, to my slight surprise, perfectly normal.
Perhaps I imagined the change in atmosphere. Maybe it’s just the air around us that feels charged and heavy with the imminent storm.
We pass a big aluminium shed, followed by a small dam only half full of water. The dry, grassy land on our left slopes upward to high hills dotted with big grey boulders and enormous old gum trees. I spy a flock of dirty-looking sheep nestled amongst the rocks, and a few more tell-tale dark triangles appearing above the long grass. A moment later, the triangles transform into full-blown roos and I smile as a group of them up sticks and lazily hop away.
Ethan stops the car and shuts off the ignition.
‘We’ll walk from here,’ he says. ‘Jump out and I’ll put the roof up.’
The dark thunderclouds have cast a strange yellow light across the land. I stand and drink in the scenery. It’s breathtaking: wild and untouched. We could have stepped back in time.
‘Let’s go,’ he urges with a smile, slinging a backpack over his shoulder.
We walk along a rocky track for a while and then head uphill. Soon my legs are aching with exertion. I’m unfit from sitting around so much and I’m even more out of breath than usual due to the stuffy, humid air. We reach a high rocky mound and turn to survey the scene before us. There’s a creek down to our left, carving its way crookedly through the landscape, and punctuated with eucalyptuses along its banks. My heart lifts as a flock of pink-and-grey galahs take flight from the sprawling branches of a tree, squawking noisily as they move in a flurry across the dark sky. I shake my head with amazement.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I say.
‘We’ll clear that patch there.’ Ethan points to the large flat expanse at the bottom of the hill.
‘Have you put in an offer on the land?’ I ask.
‘The sale’s already gone through.’
‘Really? That was quick.’
‘I don’t waste time,’ he says with a shrug.
‘It’s so hot.’ I wipe my brow. ‘Can we sit down for a bit?’
‘Course.’ He looks around for a suitable place. ‘I hope this weather doesn’t hang around. It’s a really bad time of year to be having a heat spike.’
‘In what way?’ I follow him as we climb over some sharper-edged rocks.
‘It can burn the leaves on the grapevines, halt the ripening process,’ he explains, coming to a large, rounded boulder. We sit down, side by side, and he gets a couple of bottles of water out of his backpack.
‘Are you still planning on building a house here?’ I ask, taking a bottle from him gratefully.
‘There,’ he says, casually placing his left hand on my back and leaning closer to point with his right, while holding the water bottle in his fingers. I follow the line of his extended digit to see a patch of grassy land on the other side of the creek, beside an enormous brown-and-grey gum.
A vision comes to me of Ethan with a future wife, surrounded by children. I picture him living here, working the land and waking up each day with a smile on his face.
Something inside me tightens. If we could choose to live in a parallel universe, I’d want to live here with him.
He turns to look at me, letting his hand fall from my back as his green eyes search my face. All of a sudden, my head is screaming at me to get up and walk away.
Then there’s a loud crack, and we jerk in
time to see a bolt of lightning shoot from the sky in the not-so-far distance.
‘Jesus,’ I exclaim, clutching my hand to my chest and laughing out loud with a strange kind of relief. Ethan laughs too, the spell between us broken.
‘How are things with Sadie?’ I ask, hankering for normality.
‘Fine,’ he replies. ‘How are things with Ned?’
‘Fine.’ I match his nonchalance. ‘Have you worked out what’s going on with that bloke, David, yet?’ I ask.
‘Nope. She says nothing, but I don’t know. Are you still worried about Zara?’
‘Nah.’ I shake my head. ‘Well, maybe a bit,’ I admit. ‘But whatever.’
His gaze shifts to something behind me and his face freezes.
‘What?’ I ask, whipping my head round to see what has made him look so alarmed.
There’s a fire raging in a far-off field, and I stare with my heart in my throat as, seconds later, it leaps to the next. A blast of blazing heat scorches our faces and we scramble to our feet as the fire roars towards the creek, flames leaping up to engulf the big old gum beside Ethan’s future house.
‘Should we run to your car?’ I ask, panicked.
‘No.’ He shakes his head, fear distorting his features. I look back to see that the fire has jumped straight over the creek and is already tearing across the flat plain below.
‘Quick!’ Ethan yells, half dragging me off the rocks as another gust of hot wind blows in our direction. The fire starts racing uphill.
We scramble over the back of the boulders and Ethan looks around frantically.
‘The dam?’ I cry.
‘Too far.’ He shakes his head. There’s a massive explosion from the direction of his car and his eyes widen. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he mutters, clamping his hands to his head with despair.
‘What are we going to do?’ I demand to know, hysteria building inside me.
‘Shh, it’s okay,’ he says, pushing me up against one of the boulders towering above our heads. ‘Hopefully the wind will keep the fire on the plains, but if it blows it up here, it may leap over the rocks. We just need to stay away from the grass.’ Ethan speaks with authority, but I can tell he’s as petrified as I am.
A mob of kangaroos manically hop away across the hill rising in front of us, their earlier lazy gait nowhere to be seen. Then I see a large, deadly-looking black snake slithering towards us. It slides straight into a crack between the rocks at my feet. I bury my face in Ethan’s chest and scream, losing all control.
‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ he murmurs, and then he’s cupping my jaw and pressing his lips against mine. He gives me two chaste kisses before holding my head against his chest.
I’m stunned into silence. I’m aware that he did it to calm me, but he just kissed me on my lips!
I draw away from him, staring up at his face. My heart quickens and the heavens open, but I barely even notice as fat drops of rain begin to fall around us. The look in his eyes is intense, unguarded. I lift my hand up to stroke my thumb across his cheek. My lips part, and then he brings his mouth down to mine.
We kiss like it will be our last, heat searing our throats as the fire continues to rage across the land below us. I can taste ash as I hold his face in my hands and he presses his body against mine, the hard boulder trapping me in place. I think of Ned, but only distantly, as though he’s inside a box in a cobwebby cupboard of my brain. If I’m going to die, I’m going to die kissing Ethan Lockwood.
My blood thunders through my body as our tongues frantically lock and mesh, a current zapping and igniting between us. But it’s not enough. I want more.
He wrenches his mouth away and presses his forehead hard against mine to a point where it’s almost painful. He pants hotly and heavily against my lips.
‘Don’t stop,’ I beg.
To my relief, his mouth crashes back against mine. I slide my hands around his waist and under his T-shirt, feeling the firmness of his muscles. I want him to get closer, but I have nowhere else to go. My fingers move to his waistband.
‘Amber.’ He says my name on a rush of breath, slamming his body against me, his fingers tangled in my hair.
‘I want you,’ I whisper hoarsely as the scorching northerly wind blows against my face, keeping the blaze downhill – for now.
In a millisecond, the pace shifts. His hands slide tantalisingly slowly over the curves of my body, his fingers brushing my thighs and prompting sparks of electricity to zip across my skin as they reach the hem of my dress. With his mouth still locked against mine, he lifts my dress, bunching it up at my back with one hand as he unbuttons his shorts with the other. He breaks our kiss, but doesn’t take his eyes from mine and his penetrating gaze has my heart skipping and skittering against my ribcage.
Then he hooks his thumb into the waistband of my knickers and draws them down my legs. He pauses a moment, I don’t know why – to give me time to back out?
Not a chance. I’ve daydreamed about this moment for years. This feels so right – like it was meant to happen.
I grasp at his waist and draw him into me.
It’s fast, it’s hot, it’s urgent. Our mouths barely part, and when it’s over, his loud cry resonates right through me. We stay like that for a while, our bodies heaving against each other as we try to catch our breaths, with sore, singed lungs.
Eventually he slips out of me and kisses me gently on the lips before fastening himself back up. I bend down and pull up my knickers, neither of us saying a word. He smooths my dress over my curves, his hands resting on my hips as he kisses my forehead.
I realise that it is still raining.
‘Come on,’ he says, taking my hand and tentatively leading me out from behind our rocky stronghold.
I breathe in sharply at the scene on the plains below us. On the surface, the rain appears to have done little. Dozens of trees are still on fire, towering infernos rising out of the charred and blackened land. Steam or smoke, I’m not sure which, drifts upwards from the once-grassy stretches. It’s a hellish, awful landscape.
It feels appropriate.
I do a double take at what I had thought was a fallen tree, and discover it’s Ethan’s Jag, still burning brightly with angry orange flames. It’s unrecognisable from the car that held so many happy childhood memories. I place my hand on Ethan’s taut stomach and stare up at his anguished face.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say softly.
He shakes his head, lost for words.
The rain has dampened the ground enough for us to walk out of there, but we have to take a wide berth around the blazing trees, treading carefully so as not to step on not-quite-dead venomous snakes. I bite my lip to stop myself from crying at the sight of the charred carcasses of sheep who just couldn’t run fast enough.
I don’t know how anyone could have run fast enough. I’ve never seen anything more frightening than the speed of that fire. If the wind had blown it up the hill, I’m certain we wouldn’t have survived.
Finally we make it to the road, dirty with soot and soaked through to our skin with rain.
Ethan lets go of my hand to run forward and flag down a passing car, which stops and reveals a middle-aged American couple. They’ve been visiting the nearby wineries and are distraught at the sight of us. They insist on driving us wherever we need to go. The kindness of these strangers breaks down the last of my defences, and I can’t stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks as I sit in the back with Ethan, our limbs intertwined and my face pressed against his neck as he tries to make polite conversation. I don’t know how he does it.
The closer we get to home, the further he withdraws. Physically the distance is minute, but emotionally I feel as though a chasm is opening up between us. When our kind chauffeur turns into Dad’s street, Ethan takes my face in his hands one last time and gives me a firm, final kiss. I feel like he’s saying goodbye.
‘Will you be okay?’ I ask him.
He nods bleakly as he stares back at me. He’s going to go
to the fire station to deliver an eyewitness account – he’s sure the lightning was the cause of the fire. His parents are meeting him there.
‘It’s this house on the left,’ he directs the driver, pulling away from me as the car creeps to a stop. He gives my hand a last squeeze and the action echoes all the way to my heart. ‘I’ll call you,’ he vows.
I manage to say a heartfelt thank you to the American tourists before climbing out of the car. Then I stand on the pavement in a bedraggled state and watch as they drive away.
Meanwhile…
Doris reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes as she looked at the letter in her hands. She hoped she had written the right thing. She didn’t want to scare the poor girl, but she thought it best that they meet in person.
And she so wanted to see Amber again. She wondered what sort of woman she had become. Doris hoped that this encounter would be therapeutic for both of them. She wished it from the bottom of her heart.
Her eyes ran over the words before her. Had she struck the right chord? It was so difficult to put into words what had happened, and Doris had not even relayed the half of it.
For a moment, her aged mind swam with images from the scene of the crash – the shattered glass, the mangled metal, the blood, oh, the blood… The woman’s face was deathly white, her lips and hands cold and shaking as Doris begged her to conserve her energy.
But she would not be quiet.
Doris winced as she folded the letter into thirds and slid it into an envelope. If only Barry would hurry up and track down that address…
Chapter 17
I wake up with a start on Monday morning, my pulse racing and my heart pumping fast with adrenalin.
I sit bolt upright in bed. My throat feels sore as I draw in fast, hurried breaths. I clench my hands into fists and try to calm down.
Flashbacks from the day before slam into my mind: Ethan and I kissing, Ethan and I having sex…
A hot flush washes over me and my face burns as I remember the details.
Oh God, oh God, oh God…
I’ve been unfaithful to Ned.
