Where There Is Smoke

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘Yes,’ said Oliver. ‘Very.’

  ‘He won’t want to be involved in a court case with that pair,’ said Krista. ‘They’ll say they were acting on his orders and he’ll deny it and leave them hanging. But if Hugh and I add our story, he’ll have a few questions to answer.’

  ‘I hope it works.’ Oliver sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘What if those two don’t get caught?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Krista grimaced. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ***

  Amy and Krista were busy in the kitchen when Oliver surfaced the next morning. He heard their voices and breathed in the smell of toast and bacon on his way to the bathroom. Muscles ached he’d never realised were there and when he looked at his face in the mirror, the darkening blue and black bruises made him blink in astonishment and peer more closely at the unfamiliar reflection.

  ‘That’s enough to scare the horses,’ he murmured.

  His forearm was still swollen but not as badly as yesterday even though the colour was deepening to rival that of his face. The icepack had helped a lot but he’d been woken at intervals during the night with the throbbing pain.

  He flexed his fingers carefully, wincing as all the tendons complained. Showering and dressing took longer than usual, but a T-shirt was far easier to pull on than buttoning a shirt, and trackpants were easier than jeans.

  The women sat at the table with cups of tea and empty cereal bowls. They must have bought that yesterday because he never ate cereal. Amy was eating toast, listening to Krista talk about hairdressers. Oliver poured himself tea and put bread in the toaster.

  ‘I’ll cook your eggs or you’ll have an accident,’ said Krista. ‘Sit down.’ She’d covered the worst of the bruise on her cheek with make-up and dressed in her own clothes. Reverting to herself, the rich stepdaughter of a billionaire.

  Rod hobbled in from checking the horses.

  ‘Fred’s much better. We can take him home with the others,’ he said. ‘We’ll go and check it out as soon as you’re ready, Amy.’

  ‘I’m ready now.’ She drained the last of her tea and stood up.

  ‘What about breakfast?’ asked Oliver.

  ‘Mate, I ate ages ago.’ Rod laughed. ‘You deserved a sleep-in. We’ll phone and tell you what’s happening, Krista. No need to come out there yet. Sandy’s feeding the horses at the showground.’

  ‘Okay. There’s a lot of food in the fridge in the main house you should have. If there is a house.’

  ‘You could bring some chocolate mousse back,’ Oliver said.

  ‘Chocolate mousse? You’re kidding.’ Amy grinned. ‘You’ll have to fight me for it.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be a fair fight,’ he said indignantly.

  Krista cleaned up in the kitchen while Oliver went to unlock the gate. Margie would arrive in half an hour to do some work in the office and then they’d do the ordering of supplies.

  Would Krista stay? She’d said she would but there was no reason to now that Rod and Amy were back. Sandy would be happy to help them at The Grange. Horses were her main passion whereas Krista knew next to nothing about them and couldn’t ride. The Grange wasn’t her home. She was a city girl.

  If the place had been destroyed there was even less reason.

  If she wanted to leave she’d leave. He wasn’t going to beg her to stay.

  He waved to Amy and Rod as they drove by then went to say good morning to Billy and Calypso. They had their heads in their feed and barely deigned to acknowledge him. He checked on the black stallion and Rod was right. He was brighter this morning with no nasal discharge. The fresher, cleaner air would help with his recovery. The smoke haze had cleared overnight although looking across to the north where the fire had burned strongest there was still a thick pall. Fires would be still be burning here and there and unless it poured with rain for a few days some could smoulder on for weeks.

  In the kitchen, Krista was putting the last of the washed and dried dishes away in the cupboard. She looked at home in his house. He liked that she fitted.

  ‘You didn’t have to do all that,’ he said.

  ‘What, were you going to do one-handed? You’d end up with no crockery.’ She laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I know you’re not expecting me to be the kitchen drudge.’

  ‘Anyone less like a kitchen drudge I’ve yet to meet.’

  ‘It’s the least I can do, Oliver. You’ve just let three virtual strangers stay in your house. If The Grange is still standing I should go there.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t belong here.’

  ‘You don’t belong there either, do you?’

  ‘No, I suppose not. I should go home to Melbourne.’

  ‘What will you do there? What about helping Abbie?’

  She sighed and slumped onto a chair, leaning her elbows on the table and cupping her chin in her hands.

  ‘I don’t know what to do. I keep changing my mind.’

  He pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her. ‘What do you really want to do? Forget what you should do or what you think you should do. Or what you think I’ll think about it, or anyone else for that matter.’

  She straightened, brow furrowed, as she thought about what he’d asked.

  ‘I want to stay.’

  His heart thumped harder. What was she saying? She wanted to stay with him? Here in his house?

  She hadn’t finished. ‘I like Taylor’s Bend. I didn’t think I would but the people here are really friendly and kind. For the first time in my life I feel as if I might be able to belong somewhere.’

  ‘You’ve forgotten Penny,’ he said with a laugh to cover the great leap of exhilaration. Staying in town was good, very good. Excellent, in fact. She wouldn’t walk out of his life and disappear, leaving a hole the size of Australia.

  ‘Gosh—yes.’ But she didn’t laugh. She watched him with apprehension in her eyes.

  ‘But that’s … good,’ he said cautiously. ‘Are you thinking long-term?’

  Her face crumpled again. ‘I don’t know. You asked me what I really wanted …’

  ‘I did.’ He smiled. ‘You could start a fashion clothes shop. Or open a classy restaurant.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘There’s sure to be some sort of work around to tide you over until you decide what you want to do. The point is, knowing where you want to live is a good start. The rest will sort itself out.’

  ‘Are there places to rent here?’

  ‘Houses, yes. No apartments. There’ll be a few rentals about.’ Not the quality she was used to though.

  ‘I don’t need a whole house.’

  He laughed. ‘You can rent a room from me if you like until you decide.’ He almost held his breath as he watched her reaction. Surprise first, then considering, followed by doubt, a frown …

  ‘Can I?’

  ‘I was joking.’ Giving her an out if she needed one.

  ‘Oh.’

  She didn’t. Her expression was pure disappointment. ‘You wouldn’t need to pay rent.’

  ‘I would!’

  ‘Okay.’ He shrugged. ‘We can work something out.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Are you?’

  She paused for a couple of beats, holding his gaze, then that glorious smile appeared.

  ‘Yes.’

  He held out his hand and she shook it solemnly.

  ‘Done.’

  He smiled and she sprang to her feet and ran around the table to kiss his cheek. ‘Thank you. I’ll have to go back to Melbourne and collect more clothes and things.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Tomorrow. I have to get a new phone today. Will you come with me? I don’t know where to go.’

  ‘If yours isn’t melted, you might be able to retrieve the data.’

  ‘That’s right! Although he did grind his foot onto it, the bastard.’

  Half an hour later, Rod and Amy parked their big ute next to the office. Krista, with L
ola trotting by her side, came out of the house to greet them. She’d been waiting anxiously for the phone call, unwilling to bother Oliver and Margie at work across the yard but in a fever to know if The Grange had survived. Not the main house, although that would be a big loss, but Rod and Amy’s little cottage and their car. That house was a proper home, their lives were there.

  ‘Everything’s fine. That copse where I was injured has a few singed bits but nothing came closer.’ Rod’s voice and expression said it all. ‘We’ll go and collect the horses from the showground first and come back for the three here. I called Sandy to let her know.’

  ‘I’ll come with you and collect my car,’ said Krista. ‘I’ll tell Oliver.’

  ‘I’ll collect our bags.’ Amy jumped out of the driver’s seat and hurried into the house.

  Oliver and Margie were in the storeroom, she with a clipboard and he staring at a shelf of different sized boxes.

  ‘Four of the medium and one small, left,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said Krista. ‘The Grange is fine. Rod and Amy are here and they’re going to the showground to collect the horses. I’m going with them to get my car.’

  ‘That’s great news,’ said Margie. ‘Means Sally and Les will be okay, too. They’re closer in than The Grange.’

  ‘Yes, I met Les. He helped me unload the horses.’

  ‘Are you going out there?’ asked Oliver.

  ‘If they need a hand I will, but Sandy’s more use than I am.’

  He smiled. ‘Okay, see you soon.’

  Margie stood there grinning from one to the other.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘See you later.’ Krista escaped before the pinkness rising up her throat and neck reached her face. What was Margie? Psychic?

  She collected her handbag from the house and met Amy coming out with a suitcase.

  ‘I found your phone,’ she said. ‘It’s completely smashed. Maybe a horse trod on it as well.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Krista took the shattered wreckage. An expert might be able to recover something. She could ask when she bought the new one. She had her laptop and iPad at home with the same information on them, so apart from a few phone numbers it wasn’t crucial. If she was starting her new life she wouldn’t need a lot of those numbers, she’d have new ones.

  Chapter 14

  By early afternoon, all The Grange horses had gone home with the exception of Calypso.

  ‘She’s not your responsibility,’ said Krista when Rod objected. ‘She’s mine, and apart from that I don’t want to give Moran any excuse to go to The Grange and cause trouble. If she’s not there you don’t have to lie. Tell him where she is if you have to.’

  ‘I’ll be straight onto the police if they turn up,’ said Amy.

  ‘Me too,’ said Oliver.

  After they’d gone, Oliver went with Krista to the neighbouring larger town of Willoughby for a new phone.

  ‘How’s your ankle?’ he asked from the passenger seat.

  ‘Not bad. It only hurts if I move it a certain way. My face is worse.’

  ‘Is it painful? The bruising will take a few days to fade.’

  ‘No, not really painful unless I press on it, and my jaw is a bit stiff. It’s just … ugly. Mama always used to say my looks were my best, my only, asset. I wonder what she’d say if she could see me at the moment.’

  ‘Do you believe that?’

  ‘She might be right.’

  Dark glasses and heavily applied foundation weren’t really doing the job of covering the dark, now turning multicoloured, stain spread across her cheek. She’d considered cancelling the outing, acutely conscious that going out in public meant people would see her and stare. Strangely, it was only today, this afternoon in the bathroom, she felt that way, when she was changing and preparing to go shopping, doing her make-up.

  Les and Di saw her at her worst, as did Penny and Doc. She’d been make-upless, filthy, sweaty and battered, but even though Penny wasn’t friendly she didn’t stare at her as though she was somehow disfigured. They all knew what had happened. Margie wouldn’t care what she looked like. Oliver … well Oliver had tried to protect her and had his own problems as a result.

  ‘Does it worry you?’ he asked.

  ‘What?

  ‘Having a bruised face. That people might stare.’

  ‘People always stare at me. Different reason though.’ She gave a tiny laugh. ‘They’ll think you’ve hit me.’

  He lifted his arm in the sling. ‘Likewise.’

  ‘Quite the fight,’ she said and he laughed.

  Oliver gazed out the window at the scenery rushing by. What was it like to be constantly stared at? He had no idea. Her mother’s comment about her looks being her only asset was horrifying but explained a lot. What sort of woman would demean the self-worth of her child? Maybe she thought she was giving her daughter a tip. Use your looks to get you where you want to be, to get what you want from men because they’re the ones who’ll support you.

  Straight out of the nineteenth century.

  ‘Your looks aren’t your only asset,’ he said. When she didn’t reply, he glanced at her and was surprised to see her wipe a finger across her cheek below the dark glasses.

  ‘I need to find some other shoes while we’re in Willoughby,’ she said. ‘Sneakers.’

  ‘Do you need to if you’re going home tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her tone implied he was completely clueless. He was. He only bought new shoes if he needed them because the old ones had worn out. His trainers worked for tennis and cricket, he had good black shoes he rarely wore, a pair of slip-on loafers, thongs, workboots and gumboots.

  While the phone-shop man studied the wreckage of her phone with a view to salvaging data, Oliver took Krista down a side street to Willoughby’s small shopping mall.

  ‘There’s a shoe shop in here,’ he said. ‘But it’ll be pretty basic.’

  ‘I only want basic,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll wait in Clancy’s Bookshop. It’s two along from the corner with the main street.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Out on the street, Oliver suddenly remembered he needed to tell Gina he couldn’t play at Patience orchestra rehearsals until his left arm and fingers could cope. Tennis was off the agenda too, dammit, but only till his battered body was up to strenuous activity. He was right-handed so apart from the ball toss he didn’t need his left hand to play. Calls made, with the ensuing explanations and apologies on his side and shocked sympathy from the others, he continued on to the bookshop. He’d have time to read if he wasn’t working, which was a small consolation.

  Half an hour later, Krista joined him with two shopping bags swinging from her hand.

  ‘So you found some shoes?’

  ‘Yes, two pairs, different colours. And I got the new phone. He was able to save everything.’

  ‘Good.’ Two pairs of the same shoe? Why? ‘Ready to go?’

  ‘Yes. Are you buying books?’

  ‘Just one.’ He showed her the thriller he’d chosen. ‘Do you read?’

  ‘Not much. I watch TV sometimes and movies.’

  ‘I don’t watch TV very often, apart from the news if I’m home. Other things to do.’

  ‘You must get called out at odd times.’

  ‘Yep. It’s part of the job. People are pretty considerate. They only call me after hours if it’s really urgent.’

  ‘You’re needed here, aren’t you?’

  ‘Me or someone like me. A vet, certainly.’

  ‘Doesn’t your father understand that?’

  The questions surprised him. ‘I don’t think he thinks much about it. Or me. Not anymore.’

  ‘Who’d have thought we’d have something in common,’ she said and slid him a tentative little smile.

  ***

  Krista left for Melbourne the next morning. She had on her ripped jeans, new pink sneakers and the same pink blouse she’d worn that first day. Exactly one
week ago but what a change she’d undergone in that week. As had he.

  ‘I’ll be back in a few days,’ she said, standing by her car, the door open, ready to slide in behind the wheel and drive away. ‘It might take a bit longer but I’ll definitely be back.’

  ‘You might change your mind when you slot into your real life and see your friends again.’

  Could he believe her? He believed she believed herself. Right now, as she spoke … but later? Why would she return to a small country town with nothing to offer a girl who liked clothes and shopping, overseas holidays, went out with friends to restaurants and shows. Rich people with expensive tastes and lifestyles. He’d seen them in action at The Grange. They may have been Hugh’s friends and colleagues but their children were her peers.

  ‘No, I won’t.’ She looked straight into his eyes as she said that. ‘I won’t,’ she repeated softly. ‘I want to come back here.’ She hesitated. ‘To you.’ She placed her palm gently against his cheek. ‘You need looking after.’

  ‘I won’t be like this forever,’ he said.

  ‘No, but you’ll still need looking after.’ A shadow flitted across her face. Doubt. With her so close, her voice and expression so intimate, his own doubt was fading fast, but enough remained to prevent him dragging her back into the house to explore what he’d only dreamed might be a mutually consuming attraction.

  ‘So do you.’

  He stepped closer but she didn’t move away, she slipped her hand around his neck and her lips landed on his. Still unsure what she meant by this kiss, he kept a tight rein on the surge of passion. The last thing he wanted to do was bugger things up by coming on too strong and scaring her off. She’d told him many times how men assumed she was available for the taking, how she despised them for it. Her kiss could be of the friendly ‘thank you for everything, see you soon’ variety.

  Even though it nearly killed him, he hoped he gave her enough to show he wanted to kiss her but not too much of the raging desire coursing through his body, the desire to tear both their clothes off and make love right there in the yard. By her face when she drew away, he may or may not have succeeded.

  ‘I’ll be off,’ she said hoarsely.

  ‘Krista,’ he began but her fingers prevented more words, sealing his mouth gently.