To her credit, Juliet didn’t blame her brother-in-law for Hero’s departure. Of course he’d been stupid but factors had conspired to make the outing between Paul and Hero seem more than it was. If Nick had been around when Paul came to ask if he could borrow one of the girls for the evening, Susannah wouldn’t have been able to deceive him. If Bridie hadn’t been running a temperature that night, Juliet would have gone instead. If, if, if. Besides, there was no need for her to heap blame upon Nick. Nobody could blame him more than he blamed himself.
Nick lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. He rolled his head, glancing at the clock. 3 a.m. Another hour or so and he could get up. Get on with something. The nights were the worst. That’s when he had the time to think; to think about her face, her voice, her laugh, her touch. His whole body ached for her.
Hero had been gone three months now. Nick had wanted to find her, go after her, but where? She hadn’t told Juliet where she was staying. Knowing that her sister never had been able to bear seeing anything in pain, animal or human, she had kept in touch, but her location remained a secret. If Juliet saw Nick suffering, she would have to tell him. The sisters kept in touch by email and apps, but Hero only called when she knew Nick would be out at work.
Hero kept telling herself the pain would dull in time, but she had a horrible feeling she was lying.
***
Pete watched his younger brother through concerned eyes. Nick had been chopping and splitting logs for three hours straight, the drink Juliet had made sat untouched where she had left it. His shirt was tied roughly around his waist and the sweat ran off him in streams. It was the same with every job he undertook these days. He pushed himself to the extreme, immersed himself in the task to the point of exhaustion. It was how he got through the day. Pete didn’t know how he managed the nights.
Joe followed Pete’s gaze. He watched Nick for a few more moments.
‘Hero’s not coming back, is she?’ Joe’s eyes were still fixed on Nick.
Pete pulled his own gaze away.
‘I don’t know, mate.’
Joe had always been treated as an equal on Hill Station. Pete wasn’t about to start lying to him now. Joe and the children had been told that Hero had to go away for a while, maybe a long while. It had seemed the best option at the time. Juliet had wondered aloud whether the phrasing Hero had used was a psychological thing for Hero. If she didn’t say she was going away forever, then maybe it wouldn’t seem so real.
‘Getting on that bus must have made it pretty real.’ Pete’s retort had been uncharacteristically acidic.
It had been the night Hero had left. His wife was on the permanent verge of tears whilst his brother was upstairs unconscious through alcohol. Pete cursed himself as he saw the look of pain and shock on his wife’s face at his outburst, quickly stepping across the kitchen, kissing the top of her head in apology as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Pete was angry. Not just at Hero, but at Nick too. They’d had something wonderful. Something that not everybody got to have. Something like he was lucky enough to share with Juliet. And they had thrown it all away. In a matter of moments, they had let jealousy and pride ruin the most precious thing they had.
But Pete was a pragmatic man. He knew that there was nothing he could do on this one. No way he could ease the pain that his brother, and he was sure, Hero, still felt. He didn’t know where she was or know anyone that might. All he could hope was that Juliet would eventually get through to her, make her realise what she had left. Although, as her sister had requested her not to talk about Nick the first time Juliet had mentioned him, that particular task was proving difficult. Alternatively, he had to hope that Nick would meet someone else and get over her. But even as one of life’s optimists, Pete knew that the chance of the latter happening was pretty slim and certainly wouldn’t be for a long time yet.
As the two men went back to their task, Pete shot a look across at Joe. His leg was jittering. That happened a lot lately. Joe shifted, shifting his weight onto the betraying leg. His eyes darted from point to point. Pete frowned.
‘What’s up, mate?’
The younger man’s eyes found Pete’s. They were filled with worry and fear, and sadness. He shifted again.
‘I heard some of the blokes talking. They didn’t know I was there …’ He paused, looking down, unable to hold Pete’s gaze. ‘They said that Nick was working himself into an early grave.’
‘Ah, mate. You know better than to listen to station gossip.’
Joe moved his head in a yes and no kind of way.
‘Don’t worry. Nick’s going to be just fine.’
Joe nodded. They took up the task in hand again. Pete knew he hadn’t assuaged any of Joe’s fears. The problem was that, even to his own ears, Pete’s assurances rang hollow. The truth was, he was afraid that the men might actually be right.
***
‘You all right, love? You look a bit pale.’ Sarah Sullivan touched Nick’s face as he bent to kiss her cheek.
‘I’m fine, thanks.’
Behind him, Bill Sullivan shook his head. That boy was far from fine. Paul strolled out from the house.
‘G’day Nick.’
‘Paul. You ready?’
‘Yep.’
He kissed his mother goodbye and slid into the passenger side of Nick’s ute. They passed Paul’s own on the way out.
‘Still up for sale?’ Nick asked, nodding in the direction of the vehicle.
‘Why? You interested?’
‘Nope.’
‘Good. Bob Markham’s coming tomorrow afternoon to pick her up.’
Nick glanced in the rear-view mirror. ‘Is he picking up all the crap in the back too?’
Paul grimaced. ‘No. I have the pleasure of that particular task tomorrow morning. God knows what I’ll find in there. Assuming you don’t get me too drunk tonight.’ He did his best impression of coy and batted his eyelashes.
Nick glanced over, the briefest of smiles fleeting across his features. ‘Silly bugger.’
They drove along in silence for a while. They’d known each other long enough not to have to fill it. Eventually Paul spoke.
‘Nick?’
‘Yeah?’
‘You look like shit, mate.’
Doug did a double take as Nick Webster walked in with Paul Sullivan. Nick looked terrible. His face was drawn, even when he smiled which didn’t seem to be very often. He was still as broad but the energy that had once surrounded him, that zest for life, had disappeared. Doug had a good idea exactly when it had gone, and which bus it had taken. In its place was a weariness, a feeling that Nick was merely going through the motions.
The landlord had known the Webster boys forever. Two peas out of a pod, he called them. They had always been good lads essentially, high spirited and fond of the women, but that was no bad thing, not in this country. Pete had taken the road to wedded bliss several years ago now. He was a one-woman man now, two if you counted little Bridie. Doug had never seen him happier, and he had thought, as many others had, that Nick might be heading down the same road with Pete’s sister-in-law. Until Susannah Dagmar had stuck her oar in.
‘G’day lads.’
‘G’day Doug.’
Paul spoke their order and gave the place a quick scan over, seeing who was there, and who wasn’t. ‘No Susannah tonight then, Doug?’
The barman cast Nick a quick glance but his face remained expressionless. The mischievous light in his eyes had died months ago. There was nothing.
‘No. She left. Few months ago now. Turns out we were overstaffed.’
He didn’t look up, but the corner of Nick’s mouth twitched. It might even have been a shadow of a smile.
The two friends shot a couple of games of pool, talked with neighbours. Nobody asked about Hero. Not that they weren’t interested. It was just that it was clear for everyone to see what her leaving had done to Nick Webster. Nick knew people talked but he’d been past caring a long time ago.
/> They were sitting at a corner table wincing occasionally when the screech of a visiting hen party grated. They were from the next town apparently. Paul cynically reasoned that it was easier to cover up any misdemeanours that might occur when they didn’t happen on your own doorstep. It was getting late and the two men were just finishing up when one of the party appeared at their table looking mortally embarrassed. From the ‘L’ plate strapped to her front and back, it was obvious which one of the party she was.
‘Hi.’
They returned the greeting and waited. There was clearly a reason for her being there. She was pale, pretty, and looked to be in her early twenties. She threw a self-conscious look back at her friends. The men followed the look automatically to where the group of women sat. They were of varying ages, all making gestures encouraging her to get on and do whatever it was she was supposed to do.
‘Um. I’m really sorry about this.’ Her embarrassed glance went from Nick to Paul, and back to Nick again. They in turn exchanged a look between each other.
‘Sorry for what, exactly?’ Paul asked, a smile in his voice.
The girl picked a beer mat from their table and began turning it around in her hands nervously.
‘I’m supposed to … well, the thing is. Um … we saw you both come in earlier and everyone said how we had come to the right place.’ Her blush deepened. ‘And then one of the girls said that she didn’t think you would be much fun. That you looked a bit … well … miserable.’ She glanced up from twiddling the cardboard and met Nick’s eyes. The poor woman looked like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She took a deep breath and pushed on. ‘But I told them I didn’t think you looked miserable. I just thought you looked sad.’ She returned her eyes to the beer mat, rushing on before either man could stop her. ‘The others started teasing me. They gave me a forfeit.’ She looked up.
Nick looked at her. There was a hint of a smile.
‘And what is your forfeit?’
She blushed crimson again. ‘To get a kiss. From you.’
Nick looked down at the floor, shaking his head and smiling a little more.
‘Hang on. What about me?’ Paul interjected, ‘Doesn’t anybody go for the happy, smiley type anymore?’ The look of mock indignation on Paul’s face dissipated both Nick’s and the girl’s embarrassment. She started to laugh.
‘Actually, my mum said she’d like quite like to take you home.’
‘Your mum?’ Paul looked down the length of the pub to see an older, not unattractive, woman finger waving at him. He waved back, a little unsure.
Nick swung his concentration back to the young woman in front of them. ‘When are you getting married?’
‘Saturday.’
‘Is he a good bloke?’
Her smile broadened, lighting her whole face. Nick didn’t need an answer now, but she replied anyway.
‘Yes, he is. He makes me happy.’
Nick stood. ‘Then hold onto that. Sometimes a love like that only comes once in a lifetime. Have a beautiful wedding day, and a very happy life. Congratulations.’ He then bent, placing a kiss on her cheek in full view of her friends who immediately started whooping and cheering.
‘Thank you,’ she said, once again turning scarlet. She made to step away then turned back. ‘I hope that whatever it is you lost, you find again.’
The two men watched her walk away. Her words tumbled around in Nick’s mind. He wanted that too. So much. But the likelihood of that happening grew less and less every day.
They were about halfway home when Paul asked, ‘Have you heard anything?’
Nick knew what he was referring to.
‘No.’ Paul saw his friend’s grip tighten on the steering wheel. ‘Nothing that’s meant for me anyway. She sends her sister emails, only calls when she knows I’ll be out of the house. Juliet has no idea where she is.’ Nick took his eyes off the road for a moment and looked across at his friend. He knew he was lucky he could still call him that. ‘I don’t even know where to start looking.’
‘What about the old boyfriend? Rupert or whatever his name was. The guy we bumped into in Adelaide.’
‘He wasn’t a boyfriend. Besides, I don’t know his surname. I know he owns some huge company, but I don’t know the name of that either.’
‘Useless bugger.’
In the glow of the dashboard, Paul saw Nick raise an eyebrow in a conciliatory gesture. They drove for a bit more.
‘Do you think she’s with him?’
Nick couldn’t help but smile. Paul was direct, as always. It was one of his best qualities.
Paul caught the expression. ‘What are you smiling at?’
‘The fact that you ask exactly what you want to know.’
‘Mate. You’ve already punched me in the face …’ He let the sentence drift off and shrugged, as if to say, ‘What else can you do?’
‘You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?’
‘Nope,’ Paul confirmed. ‘So. Do you?’
‘What? Think she’s gone back to be with him? I don’t even know anymore. I know they were really good friends, and I don’t think he ever accused her of sleeping with somebody else. Has to be a bonus point to him. It wouldn’t surprise me if something happened between them.’ He glanced at his passenger. ‘Did she look interested when you met him, you know, in the city?’
Paul shook his head. ‘No. Not at all. But you hadn’t acted like a total idiot then.’ He paused. ‘Well, no more than usual.’
‘Thanks for that.’
‘No worries. Do you think she’ll go back to modelling? She might be easier to find if she does.’
‘No. I don’t think so. I know she’s had offers to do some stuff. The scar on her face is much fainter now and she covers it pretty well if she wants to. But even if it wasn’t, I think they’d still want her – just for the kudos.’
Paul sensed something. ‘But you don’t think she’ll do it.’
‘No. I don’t. I don’t think that’s who she is anymore.’
Chapter 20
‘You know, the agency still calls asking if I know where you are. If you’ll be making a comeback.’
‘You don’t and I won’t.’
Rupert put down the hot honey and lemon drink he’d made her on the mirrored glass side table, before flopping into the armchair opposite and meeting Hero’s large, green, permanently sad eyes.
‘I know.’
Hero picked up the mug. ‘I do appreciate your confidences, Rupert.’
‘I know that too.’
She closed her eyes and sipped at the drink. She had finally relented and let him visit at the small cottage she’d rented in a remote village in Cornwall. The building was perched high on the cliffs with floor-to-ceiling windows that gave uninterrupted views of the Atlantic breakers as they crashed dramatically against dark, jagged rocks. Hero would sit, often for hours, just watching. It wasn’t that she was particularly a fan of the sea. It was more to do with the wildness of it. The remoteness.
‘So, how are you feeling?’
Hero had been down with the flu for three weeks now. It had finally begun to release its grip on her, but she was exhausted. More than once it had crossed her mind that during the past couple of years, the worst thing she had suffered from was a cold. Nick had made fun of her red nose, sore from blowing, but had soon made it up to her, bringing hot soup Juliet had made and keeping her company until she fell asleep. God, she missed him so much.
‘Hero?’
‘Pardon?’
‘I asked you how you were feeling.’
‘Oh. OK. Much better. Thanks.’
‘Hero?’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way …’
‘Yes?’
‘You look terrible, darling.’
‘Thanks, Rupert. Love you too.’
He crossed the room and sat next to her. ‘You know what I mean. Why don’t you come back up to Town, be with people, get back
into it?’
‘I’d much rather not, thanks.’
‘But—’
‘Rupert. I stayed in London for a month when I got back. It was awful. I felt like I was suffocating. That’s why I came here.’
‘OK. Then can I ask you something else?’
Hero answered with her eyes.
‘Why don’t you go back?’
Hero frowned. ‘Did we not literally just have this conversation?’
‘I’m not talking about London. I’m talking about Australia. The station.’
Hero looked up at him sharply. She blinked away the initial stun of Rupert’s question, and when she spoke her voice had a raw, cold edge.
‘You know exactly why.’
Rupert shrugged.
Hero’s temper broke through. How could he even ask that? He knew she would go back in a minute if it were that easy.
‘And what the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Hero imitated the shrug back at him, somewhat stiffer and full of anger. She was on her feet now, the blanket she’d been wrapped in abandoned on the chair as she paced unevenly up and down the small room. Her leg was stiff and sore, aggravated by the cold weather and the ravages of the ache-ridden flu. Rupert still hadn’t answered. He was about to when Hero started again.
‘I can’t believe you could even ask that! You know what he accused me of and you know that I would never, ever do that! Not to anyone. And never to him. You know how I felt about him.’
‘Correction. I know how you feel about him,’ Rupert finally replied, putting the emphasis firmly on the present tense.
Hero stopped pacing. He was right. She knew he was, and so did he. But it didn’t matter. She looked around the room avoiding Rupert’s confident, concerned gaze.
‘Sit down, darling.’
All of a sudden, she was tired. So very tired. Taking his advice, she sank back onto the sofa. Rupert reached over, gently taking her hand.
‘When I saw you back in Adelaide, you looked amazing. Not that you don’t normally, but there was something else. Something I hadn’t seen before. You looked radiant.’
Hero made a small, derisive sound.
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