Nicole Hurley-Moore grew up in Melbourne and has travelled extensively, whilst living her life through the romance of books. Her first passion in life has always been her family, but since doing her BA Honours in Medieval Literature, she has devoted her time to writing historical romance. Nicole is a full-time writer who lives in the Central Highlands of Victoria with her family, where they live in the peaceful surrounds of a semi-rural town. She is the author of the immensely popular novels McKellan’s Run and Hartley’s Grange.
By the same author
McKellan’s Run
Hartley’s Grange
First published in 2017
Copyright © Nicole Hurley-Moore 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Arena Books, an imprint of
Allen & Unwin
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100
Email: [email protected]
Web: www.allenandunwin.com
Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available from the National Library of Australia
www.trove.nla.gov.au
ISBN 9781760295318
eISBN 9781952535970
Set by Midland Typesetters, Australia
Cover design: Romina Panetta
Cover photographs: Rob Lang, Susan Trigg/iStock (landscape)
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
Prologue
Matt was aware that he was conscious – well, sort of. He could hear some muffled noises around him and yet was still unable to open his eyes. It was as if he were deep beneath the sea, trying to swim through the cold darkness to the surface. With each passing moment he became more alert, but even though he tried, he couldn’t seem to make his body obey his commands.
He was floating in a cocooned blackness. It wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, Matt felt supported and warm. But he still had no idea where he was, which was disconcerting to say the least.
Matt willed himself once again to open his eyes. Nothing happened. A flare of panic ignited. Perhaps my eyes are already open and I’m trapped in the dark? He tried to remember how he had come to be wherever he was, but his mind seemed to be as empty as the dark which surrounded him.
He took a breath and listened to the sounds he could hear. There were footsteps and the low murmur of voices. Matt strained his ears but he wasn’t able to make out the words. He wondered if the other people were trapped in the dark just like he was.
Something squeezed his hand. He concentrated for a second and then managed to squeeze back – at least he wasn’t alone, which was kind of comforting.
‘Matt . . . Matt. I’m here and everything is going to be alright.’
The voice sounded familiar but in that moment he was unable to place it.
‘Matt, it’s me – Jules. You’ve been in an accident but you’re okay. Can you hear me, big brother? You’re going to be okay.’
Brother . . . Jules . . . It took him another moment until his brain kicked into gear and he realised that it was his sister who was sitting next to him. He struggled to focus on her hand in his, and slowly managed to surface and blink open his eyes. He was in a cool grey room in a narrow bed. Two large curtains were pulled across to separate him from what he assumed was the rest of the room. Light shone in from a large window to the left, which silhouetted the woman who sat by his side.
‘Hey, there you are – you had me worried,’ Jules said.
Matt blinked a couple of times to refocus his eyes. His sister was leaning on the bed, her hand still wrapped around his own. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and she looked tired. Her eyes were red rimmed, as if she’d been crying, and Matt wondered why.
‘Hey,’ he managed to croak out. ‘Where . . . ?’
‘You’re in hospital. You’ve had to have surgery on your leg, but it was successful and you’re going to be fine.’
‘What . . . what happened?’
‘You don’t remember?’ Jules’s eyes became overbright. ‘You were in a car accident . . . you and Leanne.’
As soon as Matt heard Leanne’s name the images of the accident rushed back, engulfing him. He could smell the rain mixed with blood, and the sound of her scream seemed to echo around his head. He closed his eyes and hoped he could block it out.
‘Matt, it’s going to be alright, I promise. I’m here and we’ll get through this together.’
Matt opened his eyes and stared at his sister. ‘Is she okay? I need to know that she’s alright. Is she nearby?’
Jules was silent for a moment too long and a heavy stone began to settle in Matt’s gut.
‘No, Matty, she isn’t. I’m so sorry, but Leanne didn’t make it,’ Jules whispered. ‘The paramedics tried so hard, but there wasn’t anything they could do.’
Matt stared past Jules to the window and willed the blackness to come back and swallow him up. He didn’t want to think, to feel, to hurt – he just wanted everything to go back to the way it was. He heard Jules calling his name, but he couldn’t find his voice to answer.
Chapter 1
Matt drew his hand through his unkempt dark hair and blew out a breath as he turned the webcam on. For a moment he just looked straight ahead, staring into the lens.
‘Hi, I’m Matt Harvey. Some of you may know that I’m a suspense writer and my first book, Complicity, has done okay. So here’s a shout out to all of you who bought it – thanks, guys, believe me, it’s much appreciated. The second book in the Alistair Tremayne series is called Paranoia, and it was released almost six months ago now. So, just to give you an idea of where I am . . .’ He panned the camera around to give the viewers, if indeed there were any, a good look at his trim desk and this small section of his inner-city, uberindustrial apartment. Everything about it was cool and sleek and modern except for an old 1930s clock that was attached to the wall opposite his desk. He’d always thought this place reflected who he was, but now – well, he wasn’t so sure.
‘Here I am sitting at my desk – where I spend way too much time,’ he said as he reached up and angled the webcam back towards himself.
Matt paused for a second as he glanced over to the pretty brunette who was leaning against the door. She grinned back at him and gave him a two thumbs up. A hint of a smile touched his mouth as he turned back to the camera.
‘So why am I making a video blog? I guess I was bullied into it by my well-meaning baby sister, Jules.’ He looked over to the door again and saw that Jules was frowning and giving him ‘that’ loo
k. ‘She’s worried about me. You see, five months ago, just before Paranoia was released, I was involved in an accident and my life was pretty much turned upside down. Since then I’ve been shut up in my flat feeling sorry for myself and howling at the moon. Apparently howling doesn’t go down well with the neighbours and they had a quiet word to my poor sister. Jules has taken it upon herself to push me back towards humanity. She thinks it’s time that I should start living again. I don’t see the point myself but you know, if it makes her happy . . .’
Juliet Harvey’s frown deepened as she put her hands on her hips and glared at her brother. Matt registered the resemblance between them, as he often did when he recognised one of his own expressions on his sister’s face; both had dark hair and eyes and their father’s well-defined cheekbones, as well as many of the same mannerisms.
‘I don’t really know what to say or what this vlog is going to be about. I have to write the next Alistair Tremayne novel but I’m still mulling over the storyline. I’ve got a few ideas but I really need to let them solidify before I start to get the words on paper – or, more accurately, the text on the monitor. It’s taking me a while to get back in the swing of writing. That is, writing anything decent and not illegible scratchings that make no sense. Other than that, I’ve been drinking way too much coffee, watching old movies and flicking through magazines.’ To make his point Matt grabbed an open magazine from the desk and held it up.
‘Jules has been keeping me in a constant supply of mags for the last few months.’ He turned the magazine around and peered at the photo before holding it up to the webcam. ‘Like this one, which is on self-sufficiency and country living. Actually, sis, I don’t know why you got me this. I mean, when was the last time either of us was in the country? We’re born and bred city dwellers . . . although I have to admit, that cottage is kind of cute,’ he said as he tapped the page with his finger.
Jules took a step forward. ‘Maybe I thought you’d find some peace in the pretty pictures, because let’s face it – they’re as close as you get to being outside at the moment. If I can’t get you to leave this damn apartment, I can at least bring the outside to you. Maybe I was crazy enough to think they’d inspire you to start living again.’
Matt chucked the magazine back on the desk and turned off the camera. With a sigh he reached for his walking stick and, wincing, he pushed himself out of the chair. He limped over to Jules and stood in front of her.
‘I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Jules crossed her arms and tilted her head to one side. ‘You didn’t.’
‘Yeah, I did. I pissed you off and you’re only trying to help me – sorry for being a jerk.’
Jules wrapped her arms around Matt’s neck and hugged him. ‘It’s alright, I’m used to it,’ she said with a hint of laughter in her voice. ‘Listen, I just want my brother back. I just want you to be happy again.’
Matt hugged her with one arm. ‘I’ll try,’ he said, but it was a lie, because deep down he knew that he’d never be truly happy again.
***
‘Listen, old man Hargreaves is being cagey about selling his land. I had a word to him this morning and the rumours are true – he’s subdivided his farm into several lots and is selling the whole thing off. Sneaky old bugger, no one in town had a clue about what he was up to.’
Bec Duprey looked at her father, who was sitting near the large window which overlooked the front garden. ‘But is he willing to sell us the land up to Boundary Road?’
Jack blew out a sigh. ‘I think so, although I’ve been trying to buy that bit of land for almost twenty years and he’s always refused to sell it. Maybe this time will be different. But you know what he’s like – he always wants to lead people on a merry dance and make them think . . . God, I don’t even know. He’s pushing ninety, so I don’t expect that he’ll change now.’
‘We can do it, can’t we, Dad? I mean, if he offers the land to us we’ll be able to get it, won’t we?’ Bec frowned as she ran her hand through her strawberry-blonde hair and leaned forward on the couch.
Her father manoeuvred his wheelchair around to face her. ‘Yep, but it means that I’m going to have to have a talk with the bank. I hate to do it but it’s the only way. If we’re careful and pull in our belts a bit we should be able to get the loan paid off over the next ten years.’
‘He’ll be asking a lot for the land, won’t he? I mean, it’s thirty acres and an old cottage. Surely it’ll take us longer than ten years to pay back the loan?’
‘Maybe, but when I spoke to Hargreaves, he hinted he’d give us the land at mates rates. He’s counting on making a tidy profit from the rest of the farm. At least, that’s kind of what he said. I can’t pin him down to give me a definitive answer,’ Jack said.
‘Well, if that’s what we have to do, then that’s what we’ll do,’ Bec said as she toyed with her coffee mug. ‘But you know we’re going to have to replace the tractor within that timeframe.’ She glanced at her father. It was a sore point.
Jack sighed. ‘If this goes ahead, I think you’re just going to have to make do with the old one.’
‘Dad, you know it’s on its last legs. It might last this season, and if we cross our fingers, the season after that. But there’s going to come a time when we’ll have to get a new one. I can’t be without a tractor, you know that as well as I do.’
‘We’ll have to wait and see – that’s all I can say. If we get this land then paying off the loan is going to be the priority.’
‘But Dad, we’ve weathered the summer pretty well and financially we’re okay. Besides, there’s always the emergency fund.’
‘Yeah, we’re alright, but you know we have to plan for the future. Besides, you never know what fate has in store for you. Look at what happened to Grandad – he almost lost this place once, not through any fault of his own but because of circumstances beyond his control. Living through that was bad enough and I’m going to make bloody sure that it never happens again.’
Silence descended over the room. Bec knew that the lean times that had shaped her father’s adolescence had troubled him deeply; she’d heard the story many times. Dupreys had only managed to hang on to Bluestone Ridge by selling off some of their land.
‘There’s one other thing, Dad,’ Bec said gently. ‘Ned Shifton has quit.’
Jack turned to her. ‘When?’
‘This morning – which means the number of our farmhands has shrunk to one part-timer.’
‘Did he give a reason?’
‘Yeah, something like, I’m not taking orders from a girl I’ve known since she was in nappies.’ Bec tried to impersonate Ned’s voice but didn’t quite pull it off. ‘He was drunk the other night and decided to go into town. He left open every one of our gates and he and his truck ended up in the side of the old shed by the peppercorns. I took him to task over it, hence his comment about taking orders from a girl. It took me and Jamie most of the morning to round up the sheep he’d let out.’
‘The man’s a fool – he always was. You’re better off without him.’
‘I don’t disagree, but don’t you think we need to advertise to get another farmhand?’
‘I think we should hold off on that, at least until we know what’s going on with the land.’
‘You know I can’t run this place all by myself.’
‘And you won’t have to, but let’s just wait and see what old man Hargreaves and the bank say. Besides, if you get stuck you can bring Jamie in.’
‘Can we offer him full-time?’
‘Let’s just see what happens first, okay? Speaking of which, I’ve got an appointment to see the bank manager at three this afternoon.’
‘You have? Do you want me to come? I mean, I don’t mind.’
‘No need, I’ll be right.’
‘Come on, Dad, it’s a big step and I’d liked to be involved.’
‘Don’t worry about it. Look, I’m just having a chat with the bank manager about our options.
We don’t even know for sure if the old man will sell yet. If you want to be useful, why don’t you pop over to Hargreaves’s place and see if he’s actually made a decision yet?’
‘Me? Why me – wouldn’t you want to talk to him?’
‘Yeah, but I reckon we’ve got a better chance if you do it. He’s always regarded you as a surrogate granddaughter. Go and see if he’s actually going to sell the land to us.’
‘Okay. I’ll try,’ Bec said with a sigh, though she doubted that she’d influence his views. She stood up and started heading to the door. ‘So, I guess I’ll see you later.’
‘Yeah,’ Jack said absently. He’d already turned back to the window, and whatever connection had been between them a few minutes ago was now gone.
Bec went outside and took a deep breath. She and her dad had always had a tempestuous relationship, and they still clashed about most things. Her mother would say that was because they were too much alike, and maybe she was right. Bec admired her dad, she always had. Jack Duprey always kept his word and tried to do the right thing, but the flip side of that was that he was set in his ways and could be as stubborn as the day was long. Bec knew, though, that if she was being honest, so could she.
Her father had run the farm productively and efficiently before he’d come off the quad bike. But the accident had changed him – hell, it had changed a lot of things. He could no longer actively participate in the running of the farm, but his word was still law. Unfortunately this was where Bec and her father had trouble seeing eye to eye.
Straight after high school, she’d gone off and done a Bachelor of Agricultural Sciences. Her father had encouraged her to go and had seemed enthusiastic about the new methods and ideas she would learn. So Bec had left to study all fired up, excited to think that she would be able to contribute to and improve Bluestone Ridge when she came home. However the reality had turned out to be quite different – Jack didn’t seem very interested in her ideas. He would sit and listen to her, and then would dismiss her suggestions as being too hard, or too costly, or too untried.
Country Roads Page 1
