Jilted

by Rachael Johns

  She was changing the subject; he’d be an idiot not to notice. ‘What’s it like?’

  ‘What’s what like?’

  ‘Sydney. Your life there.’

  ‘You ever been?’

  He shook his head. Melbourne, Darwin, Brisbane, Adelaide, Hobart – he’d been to all the capital cities in the last few years, learning as much as he could about how sheep were farmed in different regions, what breeds worked best, and how farmers dealt with different conditions. But he’d stayed well away from Sydney. Just in case.

  ‘It’s cool. Felt like I’d landed in New York all those years ago, but now I’m used to the hustle and bustle. The nightlife, the shopping, the restaurants, the culture. I love it.’

  ‘Do you live with anyone?’ He wanted to kick himself in the shins the minute he asked – he hadn’t been able to help himself. But was that a slight lift of her lips he noticed?

  She shook her head. ‘I haven’t even got a cat.’ Stupidly, he felt happy about this. ‘When we’re filming, the hours are long and not really conducive to … umm … relationships. I’ve got a couple of great girlfriends though. One’s a make-up artist for the show and the other is my neighbour. I miss them a lot.’

  ‘Sure. Well, Matilda’s getting better now – you won’t have to stay long, will you?’

  ‘No.’ He saw her shiver but resisted the urge to rub her arms. She continued. ‘But I’m not leaving until she’s off the crutches. I don’t trust her not to do something silly. Besides, I love spending time with her. I only get homesick if I think too much about it. Or when people get aggro at me.’

  ‘Because of me.’

  ‘Don’t.’ Her voice was sharp, annoyed. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘But it’s not fair either.’ A thought jumped into his head and before he had a chance to consider it properly, he put it out there. ‘Hang with me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Come to the football on Saturday. It’s a home game and we need all the supporters we can get.’ He paused, realising he’d just crossed the line he’d drawn two weeks ago. He was about to offer friendship to the woman who had broken his heart. Best he qualify it. ‘You can bring Matilda if ya want.’

  ‘I dunno.’ Ellie rubbed her lips together. ‘Why are you asking me?’

  He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. Leaning forward slightly, he spoke. ‘I like you, Ellie, simple as that. Not in the way I used to, but enough that I don’t like to see you treated like an outcast in your own town. If people see that I’ve moved on, then maybe they can build a bridge as well. You’re doing a good thing looking after Matilda, you don’t deserve to suffer for it.’ He paused. ‘Friends?’

  Ellie looked at Flynn. ‘Okay.’ She clasped his outstretched hand and shook it firmly but quickly. ‘Friends.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ellie was waiting at Matilda’s gate when Flynn showed up just before midday. She’d dug out her old Hurricanes scarf and had it wrapped around her neck, the perfect protection from the late August wind.

  He jumped out of the ute and rushed around to open the passenger door. It looked a lot like a date but they both knew it wasn’t. There was no kiss hello and he was careful not to brush against her. She smiled her thanks and tried to avert her gaze from his outfit. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen Flynn in tight footy shorts and a club jersey before – hell, she’d seen him in a lot less – but her mouth went dry at the sight anyway. Men in sports uniforms always did it for her. In Sydney she’d ended up a massive fan of the Swans – and their players – not that she would ever tell Flynn that. Their experiment in friendship was in its very early stages and he was a diehard Dockers fan.

  ‘Is it just you?’ Flynn asked, glancing at the cottage.

  ‘Yep.’

  Ellie had begged, pleaded, even tried to bribe Mat to come with her, but the old biddy had been firm in her refusal, harbouring crazy ideas about her and Flynn getting back together. She hadn’t said as much, but Ellie knew the way Mat’s brain worked. Although she didn’t buy into romance for herself, she thought Ellie needed one to make her happy. And she’d been like a two-year-old on a sugar rush since Ellie and Flynn had walked back inside the pub two nights ago. They hadn’t even been walking close to each other, but Mat had jumped to the conclusion that, since Flynn was the one to follow Ellie out of the bar, he must still care about her. In her heart of hearts, Ellie thought this was true. But she knew as well as anyone that caring wasn’t enough. Hell, even if he still loved her, he’d made it clear they’d never be more than friends. That they could even try for that was a blessing, and she was grateful for the opportunity.

  ‘Matilda’s resting,’ she qualified. ‘And footy isn’t really her thing anyway.’

  A flicker of concern flashed across Flynn’s face. ‘Will you be okay while I’m playing? Lucy often comes to the game but Mum’s making her study today.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ Ellie forced a smile and sat down in the passenger seat. She wanted to do this. She wanted to get out for herself, not just on an errand for Matilda. She’d loved this town once and while she was back she wanted to experience it at its best. Footy was one of the things that most reminded her of the country. ‘I’m actually excited,’ she said as Flynn slid in beside her and started the ute.

  ‘Great.’

  The drive to the oval was less than a minute. Not a lot of time for small talk but plenty for reacquainting herself with the feeling of being with Flynn. The confined space of the cabin was the most intimate they’d been in a long time. Memories ambushed her – good memories, sad memories, overwhelming memories. She wondered if the steely expression on Flynn’s face meant he was lost in recollection too.

  As the car slowed to a stop at the oval she snapped out of her reverie. She glanced up at the other vehicles bordering the playing field and placed a hand against her stomach. The butterflies there were now more like a swarm of blackbirds. But it wasn’t as if she was turning up uninvited, she shouldn’t feel so much like she were overstepping the mark.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Flynn.

  ‘Peachy.’ She flashed him a cheesy grin and grabbed her bag from her feet, as she pondered slinking down and hiding behind the dashboard.

  ‘Liar,’ he teased.

  She raised her eyebrows at him and glared. ‘How do you know I’m lying?’

  ‘You may be a hot shot actress,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck and winking in a way that sent the blackbirds spiralling. ‘But some things never change. You blink too much when you’re lying, Ellie Hughes.’

  She automatically blinked in response and rushed to press her fingers against her eyes. Did she really? ‘All right, smarty pants, you win. Let’s get this over with.’

  Flynn grinned the smile she’d never been able to resist and opened the door. Despite everything, Ellie felt safe getting out of the ute alongside him. He dropped his keys in a sports bag and then threw the bag over his shoulder. In the old days, this would’ve been where he’d put his arm around Ellie and she’d have slipped her hand in the back pocket of his pants.

  ‘Come with me while I dump my bag,’ he said. ‘We might find someone you can sit with.’ Ellie doubted that. She guessed she’d be sitting on the bonnet of the ute all on her lonesome.

  He nodded and waved at a few people as they headed towards the change rooms. Ellie couldn’t help but notice a few heads do a double take as they saw him with her, but most of them recovered quickly and greeted her with a smile or hello. They were almost at their destination when she heard someone call, ‘Ellie!’

  She turned towards the giggly voice and smiled to see Sarah from the theatre group waving crazily at her. Jolie, another one of the trio, was at her side and both had chubby, chocolatey toddlers perched upon their hips. Behind them deckchairs were set up in front of dust-covered four-wheel drives.

  ‘You go say hello,’ said Flynn, ‘I’ll pop back before the game starts.’

  ‘Okay.’ Ellie was glad to find the genuinely fr
iendly faces and walked briskly towards them. Jolie and Sarah hugged her enthusiastically, and the sticky hands of Jolie’s daughter caught in Ellie’s hair as they pulled apart.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Jolie gushed, putting the toddler down and digging around in a big black bag. ‘I’ve got some nappy wipes here somewhere to clean you up.’

  Ellie waved off her apology. ‘Don’t be silly, I don’t mind.’ She pulled out her hair elastic, ran her hands through her locks and redid her ponytail. ‘Are you gals here to watch your hubbies?’

  ‘Yep. Anything to get out of the house, away from washing and ironing,’ said Sarah. ‘Here, take a seat.’

  They sat down on the deckchairs, of which there were a couple spare – presumably for absent husbands – and the children started playing noisily with cars at their feet.

  ‘What’s with you and Flynn Quartermaine?’ asked Jolie conspiratorially.

  ‘Nothing,’ Ellie answered far too quickly. She felt her cheeks flaring with heat.

  Jolie and Sarah raised their eyebrows and smiled in a way that said Sure, we believe you.

  ‘He doesn’t take just anyone to the footy,’ Sarah said, opening a bottle of water for one of the children.

  ‘I heard they used to be an item,’ mentioned Jolie, as if Ellie weren’t there.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ snapped Ellie, smirking at their obvious ploy for gossip. ‘It’s true, I left him at the altar. I’m an evil bitch and he, well, he’s just an all-round nice guy who doesn’t want me to suffer for it.’

  The other women laughed and glanced up, catching sight of Flynn as he headed back towards them.

  ‘You must have had a damn good reason, girlfriend,’ Sarah said in a hushed voice, ‘because that is one hot bod right there.’

  Don’t I know it, thought Ellie, succumbing to a good old perve herself. He really was particularly easy on the eye.

  Flynn, oblivious, approached them smiling. He held out a brown paper bag and a can of Fanta for Ellie. ‘Thought you might need some sustenance.’ She peeked inside the bag to see a perfect meat pie steaming back at her, but it was the can of soft drink that made her fingers tingle as they closed around it. Her favourite drink.

  ‘I hope you still like it,’ he said with a touch of anxiousness. Of course she did, but she couldn’t recall the last time someone remembered this about her. The fact he did touched her heart in a dangerous manner. How was she supposed to keep an emotional distance if he kept doing sensitive things like this?

  ‘I love it,’ she replied. ‘But you’ll be sad to know it still makes me hyper.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Flynn grinned and gestured with his thumb to the field behind him. ‘We need all the cheering we can get, especially against Tambellup. Fanta is all part of the plan.’

  ‘Well, thanks.’

  ‘You okay with these guys?’ Flynn asked in a lowered voice.

  She nodded. ‘Don’t worry about me, just go play. And win.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ Flynn saluted her, waved goodbye to Jolie and Sarah, and jogged off to join his team.

  Sighing and not knowing what to think or feel, Ellie caressed the icy Fanta can. She tugged on the ring pull before taking a long, thirst-quenching drink. Then she leaned back in the deckchair and waited for the game to start.

  As Flynn jogged towards his teammates he prepared himself for the barrage of questions. Blokes didn’t usually indulge in gossip or deep and meaningful conversations, but there were certain things that warranted attention. He knew his friends – some of whom he’d been close to since high school – would want to know why he’d brought Ellie along.

  Problem was, he was still asking himself the same question. When they’d spoken on the day of the media frenzy, he’d made a conscious decision to stay away from her. But even then, he could feel himself mellowing towards Ellie. Perhaps it was true that time healed. Perhaps, after ten years, he’d rather have her as a friend than not at all. He may have once blamed Ellie for his journey down that destructive path, relying on alcohol to get through each day, but no matter what she’d done, he now accepted that his actions were his own responsibility. He’d chosen to be weak on his own accord, something he wasn’t proud of. Now he was choosing to be friends.

  ‘Mate,’ called Rats as he approached. The players had already started warming up, so Flynn launched into a hamstring stretch alongside his friend.

  ‘G’day guys.’ His greeting was met with an array of raised eyebrows.

  Rats leaned in close. ‘What’s Ellie doing here?’

  ‘Watching the game, like everyone else.’

  ‘Don’t give me that crap, you know what I mean.’ Rats finished a stretch and started jogging on the spot.

  Flynn straightened up. ‘Whitney tell you what happened at the pub?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Rats nodded.

  ‘Well, that’s why. I don’t appreciate people treating her like dirt with some perverse notion that they’re protecting me. I want to move on, not dwell in the past.’

  Rats’s eyes widened. ‘You’re getting back together?’

  ‘No.’ Flynn scoffed. ‘I don’t want any relationship, much less one with her. We’re trying friends, that’s it.’

  Rats shrugged and linked his hands behind his back in an arm and chest stretch. ‘Admirable. Don’t know if it’s something I could do.’

  ‘Just as well you don’t have to worry about it, then, hey mate?’ Flynn’s comment sounded harsh, but when he winked and nodded to the sidelines – where Whitney was sitting with her girlfriends – Rats caught his meaning. ‘She’s besotted.’

  ‘Do you blame her?’ The groom-to-be puffed up his chest theatrically and flexed his arms.

  ‘You’re a dag,’ said Flynn, but he was glad the conversation had shifted away from himself.

  They did a few more warm-up exercises before the siren signalled the start of the match. Flynn launched himself into the game he loved, with no time to worry about Ellie or what people were thinking. It was rowdy, it was rough, it was sweaty, it was invigorating. The Hurricanes hadn’t been playing well this season, but today they were pumped. The home crowd shrieked as Flynn scored another goal.

  When the game was over and the Hurricanes were miles ahead on the scoreboard, he could have roared with satisfaction. Despite the sweat pouring down his back and off his forehead, he felt more alive than he had in a long time. His team had almost forgotten the sweet taste of victory, and he hoped this was the start of a change of luck. But whatever the future, one thing was certain: the festivities would be long and loud in the clubrooms that night.

  ‘Great game, boys.’ Whitney met them as they came off the field and wrapped her arms around Rats. ‘Are we celebrating?’

  ‘Of course,’ Rats replied, one arm around Whitney’s waist. ‘I’ll just get changed and be there in a sec.’

  Lauren, at Whitney’s side, tossed Flynn a smile. ‘You coming, Flynn?’ He couldn’t help but notice the optimism in her voice.

  ‘Sure. I’ll just go tell Ellie.’ He turned tail before anyone had a chance to say anything or ask any questions. He hoped they’d take their cue from him and be nicer to Ellie, but he wasn’t holding his breath.

  After a quick shower, Flynn changed into jeans and a clean shirt and found Ellie already inside the club, with Sarah and Jolie. He watched her from the door, wondering whether she was as relaxed as she looked sipping Bundy-and-Coke from a can. Acting was her bread and butter, but she really did look comfortable in the room full of noisy Hope locals. His plan seemed to be working.

  A friendly slap between the shoulder blades jolted Flynn from his thoughts. ‘Mate, you played bonza out there.’ The voice belonged to Jimmy, a retired player who still celebrated every Hurricane goal like he’d kicked it himself. ‘What’s your secret? You wearing lucky jocks or something?’

  ‘Something,’ chuckled Flynn, his eyes drifting back to Ellie.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ asked Jimmy, skolling his can then crushing it in his hands.

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nbsp; ‘Yes. I mean no.’ Jimmy was, without a doubt, offering him an alcoholic beverage. And Flynn wasn’t going there again, not with Ellie and Lauren in the room. He chatted a few more moments with Jimmy, listening as the older man reminisced about winning goals and past glory. When he went to the bar, Flynn ventured further into the room. Ellie had moved on from Sarah and Jolie and was now surrounded by a bunch of the younger players. He decided to go over and see what she was saying that had them so mesmerised.

  ‘Hi Flynn.’ Ellie threw him a smile when he nudged into the group. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ She held up her can.

  ‘I’m right for now,’ he said.

  ‘Els was just telling us about her job on the telly,’ informed Grant, a fullback who thought himself a lot better than he was. Flynn bristled at the way he shortened Ellie’s name.

  ‘I reckon I’d like to be one of those blokes that surf all day,’ said Tim, a hardworking farmer Flynn generally got along with. ‘Does anyone have a real job on Lake Street?’ Everyone laughed, then someone asked a more serious question about life in front of the camera. Ellie spoke openly and honestly, generous with information about the life she’d made in Sydney – both on and off screen. Flynn couldn’t help but notice the happiness and pride in her voice as she spoke about her friends there and her apartment in Bondi Beach. In many ways she was the girl he’d loved all those years ago, but in others she was a total stranger. This last thought helped ground him.

  Ellie seemed perfectly capable of holding her own, so Flynn excused himself from the conversation – barely anyone noticed – and went to buy himself a can of Coke.

  Ellie looked wistfully after Flynn as he went towards the bar, not because she was harbouring any ridiculous fantasies (a la Matilda), but because she was finding all the attention a little overwhelming. Everyone was being very friendly, which was great, and Flynn’s pledge to befriend her seemed to be contagious.

  After fielding another round of questions, Ellie slipped off to the ladies’ room. She washed her hands and put on some pink lip gloss – that was about as far as she went in the make-up department when she wasn’t on screen – and was about to go back into the main bar when Lauren and Whitney walked through the door. They stopped and blinked, as if shocked to see her there. Ellie felt like saying, Yes, I pee like everyone else, but simply smiled politely.