NINA

May 2020, Benevolence Day One

‘Everything all right?’

Paul had walked her from the beach up to the accommodation, and all the way she’d felt the eyes of the others on her. Watching, speculating and probably drawing the wrong conclusions. No doubt word of her argument with Jude Rawlins would spread like wildfire. One thing Nina knew about small groups of people in isolated places—they liked to gossip.

There was a neat-looking campsite set up in front of the cottage, something tasty simmering in a pot over the campfire and dough for bread rising nearby. Nina felt a wave of relief. At least she had chosen the right person for the job to feed everyone—Paul could create a banquet out of a few potatoes and a lamb chop.

And yet Jude’s words and presence hung over her, souring the moment.

She glanced about. The generator was there, running the freezer that kept the food cold, safely lodged in a prefab hut that also held other supplies, under lock and key, and Paul and Nina’s watchful eyes. Two weeks wasn’t long, but one never knew. If the weather turned ugly and no aircraft could risk flying in, they might be stuck here longer—and wasn’t that an awful thought. Nina’s heart sank when she remembered how much she had been longing for this chance to prove herself, to atone for the stupid mistake she’d made two months ago, and now because of Jude the thought of being here for a few extra days caused her to want to scream.

Paul was giving her his most patient look. ‘Nina?’

‘Sorry. I’m fine. Just making a mental list of all the things I need to do.’

Paul hesitated and she knew he was going to pry. She wanted to head him off again, change the subject, but it would be no use. Paul was like a dog with a bone once he set his mind on something. She may as well get it over with.

‘You and Jude …’ he began, closing the lid on the pot. Seabirds shrieked overhead, hoping for an opportunity to partake. The alfresco meals would have to move indoors if the weather deteriorated, but for now it felt perfect.

‘Can we not talk about it right now, Paul.’

Paul was the only one who knew the truth. Well, some of it, anyway. She’d blurted it out in a moment of despair, after he kept trying to get her and Jude back together, but he had promised never to say anything to anyone and she trusted him. He understood the subject was closed, or at least she had thought he did. Now and again he would talk to her about it, or she would talk to him, but she tried not to rely on him too much. From the expression on his face now, though, she wondered if this was going to be one of those times.

‘Nina,’ he started again, facing her. ‘I can imagine how awkward it is for you to have Jude here. I hope you know if you want me to tell him off for being a dickhead, then I’m your man. But it’s been ten years. I have to wonder if you ever really got over what happened back then. You think you’re coping, but I know you’re still suffering the consequences.’

She said nothing. He had told her before that he thought she had symptoms of PTSD and needed professional help, but Nina had denied it. She told him she was managing without any of that ‘claptrap’. He had given her a kind look, much like the one he was giving her now.

‘What happened in March,’ he went on, and then paused.

‘That was bad luck,’ she said. She’d been saying that since it happened, as if repeating the words would make it true. ‘I apologised and they agreed it was just bad timing. It’s forgotten.’

Don’t stuff up this time, her boss, Kyle, had said to her as she was leaving this morning. We’re giving you one last chance. Show us you’re worth it, Nina.

Another pause. ‘Then let’s talk about now.’

‘Let’s not,’ she muttered.

‘You probably don’t want to hear this, but Jude is suffering too.’ He held up his hand when she went to angrily interrupt. ‘I know he isn’t suffering as much as you, but how can he understand when you never told him the truth? He hasn’t had a chance to come to grips with any of it. To apologise and, well, grieve, I suppose. Maybe it’s time.’

Horrified, Nina opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of that idea, but he ploughed on.

‘You’re both here, together. On an island. You have nowhere to go. It could be the perfect opportunity for the both of you to talk honestly and openly.’

Nina shook her head. She wanted to tell him it was a terrible idea, that even though ten years had come and gone, essentially nothing had changed. Telling Jude now would be no different to telling him then. The consequences would be the same. Worse, probably. Besides, how could she tell Jude now when she had spent all this time driving him away so they could barely be in the same space together without arguing or spitting venom? Or was she frightened? Because if she wasn’t throwing barbs in his direction, then what was left?

The truth.

‘I chose this path ten years ago, Paul. I’m not changing direction now. Yes, I was a little rattled to see him on the beach,’ she said slowly, selecting her words so that he couldn’t read too much into them. ‘He hates me and I thought he’d stay well away, that he’d want to stay away.’

‘He doesn’t hate you.’

She waved a dismissive hand at him.

‘Nina,’ he sighed, raising a rusty-coloured eyebrow. ‘This may be your best chance to put things right. If his TV series takes off, he’ll be out of here and I think it’s unlikely you’ll be together in this way again. Not for a long time. Maybe forever.’

For a moment she felt at a loss, which was ridiculous because a forever without the prospect of bumping into Jude should be a good thing. And put things right? How could they ever be right? If she told Jude the truth, then he would hate her more because she would destroy everything he believed in. That had never been her intention. She just hadn’t thought it would be so hard to push him away, or that he would keep coming back.

‘You’re still not over it,’ Paul said. ‘I don’t think you ever will be until you tell him. It’s all knotted up inside you. If you talk to him, then you’ll begin to heal. You both deserve that, Nina.’

Paul spoke with a degree of wisdom. He had been in the army before she met him, serving in Afghanistan, and she knew he had suffered the after-effects of that tour. He had become a chef because he said that preparing and creating with food soothed him. The memories were always there for him, too, no matter how he had tried to ignore them or use a therapist to banish them, or, in the bad old days, alcohol to blur them. Time heals was one of his favourite sayings, but it doesn’t forget.

‘Tell him?’ she answered him sharply. ‘That’s ridiculous. What would be the point?’

‘The point? You might actually get a little peace. Or at least you’d get a decent night’s sleep once in a while.’

Nina glared. She’d obviously let herself confide in Paul too much over the years.

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ he said with a shake of his head, as if he was hurt by her suspicion that he might. ‘I would never betray your confidence, Nina, and I hope you know that. But if you want to come out of these two weeks with your professionalism intact, then you’re going to have to find a way to deal with Jude. There were sparks coming off you both down there on the beach and it was hard to miss.’

‘I’ll tone it down,’ she said dryly.

‘All right,’ he agreed, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

‘You know, I think I am just going to ignore him.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Pretend he isn’t here to spoil this for me. I’m going to show everyone at Island Heritage how competent I am, that I can do this job, despite Jude Rawlins.’

Paul squeezed her shoulder with his big hand. He was a big man all over, more than six feet tall and muscled like a wrestler. He used to say, when they first met, that it was a wonder the Taliban had missed him. She’d laughed, but thinking about it afterwards she’d decided there had been an undercurrent, a poignancy, to his joke. As if he really did wonder. Survivor’s guilt, maybe.

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she added with a sideways glance. ‘Despite the nagging. At least I have a friend.’

He smiled. ‘Come on now. I’m your only friend,’ he teased.

She chuckled. Glad of the change of subject, she took pleasure in observing the camp and the crew as they moved around. Some of Brian Mason’s volunteers were seated in a group with mugs of tea, chatting together. The weather was good enough to sit outside as long as they were sheltered from the ubiquitous wind. When they saw her looking they smiled and waved, and she reminded herself to make introductions. In a place like this, it wouldn’t take long for them all to get to know each other, and she wanted everything to go smoothly. She was good at managing, planning, but interacting with people was often difficult for her, especially on her bad days.

‘I’m surprised Brian Mason got the job,’ Paul said, frowning at Nina as she popped a slice of raw carrot into her mouth from the chopping board on the trestle table.

‘Why? I was told he’d done this sort of thing before, and he came with glowing references. He has some family connection with the island, too. I know he has a reputation for not being always easy to work with, but that’s because he’s a perfectionist.’ She snatched up another slice of carrot. ‘He’s not that bad, Paul.’

‘If you say so,’ he said dryly.

Nina wondered suddenly if he was right and she should have chosen someone else. Someone who could get on with everyone and yet didn’t have the same fierce pride in his work as Brian Mason did. Well, it was done now, and if there were problems she would have to deal with them. Put them right.

Elle appeared, looking curiously from one to the other. ‘Hi,’ she said with a friendly smile in Paul’s direction. ‘I’m Elle.’

Nina introduced them, adding, ‘We were lucky to get Elle as a last-minute replacement after Veronica couldn’t make it. Poor girl had an accident, broke her leg, but she’ll be fine. Just not up to island life.’

Elle smiled and switched her attention back to Nina. ‘Your stuff. Where do you want it?’

Nina glanced past her and saw her bags on the ground. She’d forgotten all about them. She blamed Jude.

‘Culinary emergency,’ Paul murmured, sotto voce, and Elle giggled.

‘I’ll give you a hand.’ A vaguely familiar face popped through an open door in the old lighthouse-keeper’s quarters.

‘Oh, thank you.’

‘This is Arnie,’ Paul said. ‘He’s a volunteer and a budding chef.’

‘I’m here to learn from the master,’ the younger man announced.

Was it her imagination or was Paul blushing?

Arnie grinned. He was around Elle’s age, brown hair messy and his sleeves rolled up. Another of the band of eager young volunteers who had come along for the experience.

‘I’ll just stow my gear and then I can meet the troops. I want them to know I’m here if they have any gripes.’

‘Give them a day and they’ll have plenty,’ muttered Paul, the voice of experience.

She smiled and turned to go, but he moved closer, lowering his voice. ‘Lis Cartwright is here, too. Just so you know.’

‘How did she manage that?’ Nina asked sharply. She had seen the names of the volunteers and Lis hadn’t been among them.

‘Evidently, Jude wangled it with your boss.’

She sighed. ‘Of course.’ Lis, proper name Felicity, was Jude’s biggest supporter. She was a friend from his school days and had hung around the beach house whenever the Rawlins family was there. Nina used to wonder if Lis was in love with him. Now she told herself she didn’t care.

Besides, maybe Lis being here would keep him out of her hair. Then why the sting of jealousy? Why the empty feeling in her belly? She used to wonder if Lis had known what happened, and if she did, why hadn’t she said anything? But no, she brought herself up with a jolt. She didn’t want to mull over the past; she couldn’t afford to. She had secrets that Jude knew nothing about. Secrets she was not going to share no matter how much Paul thought they should talk.

She collected her bags and carried them into the main cottage, the one that had belonged to the head lighthouse keeper and his family. Paul would take one room and Nina and Elle the other, while the main area could be used for dining or sheltering from the rain. There was an attic, but it was only used for storage these days. Two of the modern cottages and some bad-weather tents would house Brian Mason and the volunteers, and the single cottage to the south, once the abode of the lighthouse-keeper’s assistant, was all for Jude.

Elle had already dumped her gear on one of the two beds, and although it would be rather crowded in here, Nina would only be using it for sleeping. The main area would do for any work she needed to complete, or reports she needed to write up. Elle had taken the place of Veronica, the photographer who’d had the accident—a broken leg wouldn’t work on Benevolence. Elle was more than competent—Nina had seen her references. She was also permanently cheerful, which already had started to grate on Nina’s nerves. Surely Elle must sleep at some point?

Almost as if she’d read her mind, Elle caught Nina’s eye with a tentative smile. ‘I don’t snore, I promise,’ she said.

Nina smiled back. ‘I doubt I’ll hear you even if you do. The sea air should sort us out if the work doesn’t.’ She didn’t say she had her medication. She was prone to nightmares, and although she hadn’t sleepwalked for over a year, she wasn’t taking any chances. She had no intention of wandering off the edge of a cliff in the middle of the night. Something she hadn’t told Kyle. It’s under control. And she probably wouldn’t have got this second chance if he knew, and she desperately needed to prove herself.

Elle followed her outside again, and Nina paused to take in the view. Until now, she had only seen the island in photographs and it was twice as spectacular in real life. She shaded her eyes, feeling the sea breeze loosen her hair and smooth back her jacket and trousers—she needed to change into the casual gear she’d brought with her. She was keeping her fingers crossed that the weather would hold out for them.

She walked up the steep incline to where the lighthouse stood, noting the signs warning about steep cliffs. To her right Thankful Cove looked serene, its beach curving around it like a white crescent moon, bracketed by rising walls of green scrub and black rock. Nesting seabirds screeched. Dangerously jagged rocks were strewn out from the bottom of the cliff on her left side. The Tiger’s Teeth were the main reason the lighthouse had been built in the late 1840s, to guide ships to safety when crossing the Strait from what was then Van Diemen’s Land to the Port Phillip District on the mainland. Not that it had always been successful. When the weather was bad and the clouds low, sometimes the light could not be seen, and there had been a number of wrecks over the years. What remained of them was protected, although divers had been known to apply for permission to explore when the weather was fine.

Which reminded her, as well as the maintenance on the island, she was supposed to check for unauthorised visitors. There had been reports from a number of the volunteers who had stayed here over the summer that a boat had been secretly anchored on the west side, and that a man had been seen running and hiding. The island was not open to the general public, although there were occasional visits from passing yachts and fishing boats, and Nina could understand why the guests had been a bit freaked out to have their idyll gatecrashed.

Another deep breath, feeling her shoulders relax, and she headed back to the campsite. Authorised visitors to the island were expected to keep everything shipshape, but the summer storm had caused damage beyond the capabilities of amateurs. Brian Mason would have his hands full. Island Heritage wanted everything made as safe as possible in case someone was hurt during a stay and decided to sue. They were living in a litigious world.

During a chat they’d had after he joined the team, Brian had reminded her, in his pedantic way, that one couldn’t stop someone if they were determined to get their pound of flesh. ‘Let’s hope the volunteers are the responsible sort.’

‘You’d think the brochures would give them some idea of what to expect. Unadorned living quarters and the bare minimum of comfort.’

‘Definitely not Surfer’s Paradise.’

His dry humour had made her smile.

‘Do you think a fortnight will be long enough to finish the repairs on the buildings?’

He had tapped his pen on the desk between them, the lines in his face deepening. ‘It should be. I can make it work.’ He smiled thinly. ‘You’d better let the volunteers know what they’re in for. Hard work and more hard work.’

‘The ones we’ve interviewed so far have been pretty keen.’

‘I wonder if they realise how far away from everything the island is? It’ll probably come as a shock to most of them.’

‘They’ve been told. We have a wireless connection, but it’s patchy; the weather plays a big part. No landline, although we have a satellite phone, so we’re not completely out of touch. Paul is trained in first aid, but anything too serious would mean a call to head office. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’

Brian Mason had grimaced. ‘Let’s hope not.’

Nina noticed the old metal bell set up on a high point on the track between the lighthouse and the campsite. It was an original and stood on a sturdy frame with a rope attached to the clapper. The sort of old-fashioned apparatus that called schoolchildren into their classrooms. It was a practical way to get everyone’s attention. Wherever they were on the island, they would be able to hear it. She pondered what the lighthouse keeper and his family had used it for. Perhaps it really was a school bell, from when there were enough families with children on the island for lessons to be a regular thing.

As soon as she’d seen a photograph of the bell back in her office, she had decided it was ideal as a meeting point for the group. Not that she intended to ring it more than once a day. Mornings, she decided, after breakfast, when her team could gather together, talk over any of their issues, and messages or reminders could be passed on.

It was almost lunchtime, but Nina determined now would be a good time to test her plan and let everyone know they would be expected to meet up in a similar fashion every day.

Unhooking the thick rope, she swung it so that the bell rang loudly. The sound wasn’t quite as musical as she’d hoped, but it was effective. The echoes had barely begun to die away when people were trooping towards her from the four corners of the island. Some, she noted, looked more willing to be interrupted than others.

Those she knew—Jude, Lis, Paul and the volunteer Arnie, Elle and Brian—arrived first. The rest she recognised from the photos she’d seen of them, although this was her first time meeting them all face to face. She had meant to do so before they left, but there was so much to do, and a last-minute glitch with one of their suppliers had meant she had no time whatsoever. The reason she had been working right up until the helicopter left this morning.

‘Good morning,’ she said brightly, when they had gathered around her. ‘For those who haven’t met me yet, I’m Nina Robinson. I’m sorry to drag you up here like naughty children late for class, but I wanted to introduce myself and to let you know that I’m here if any of you need a word. At any time.’

‘She’s the fixer,’ Paul said with a grin.

There was a ripple of laughter. Good.

‘I’m Gemma …’

‘Neil.’

‘Reynash.’

The three she didn’t know smiled awkwardly, held up their hands and nodded in that order. Brian Mason was frowning impatiently. ‘Is this really necessary?’ he asked.

‘I’m afraid it is,’ she replied breezily. ‘And it will be happening every day after breakfast. Eightish. I know everyone is busy, but it will allow us to touch base with each other, bring up any problems, ask for help, that sort of thing.’

He grunted. Behind him, Jude stood in silence, Lis on his right—right-hand woman? Nina wondered slyly—and Elle was to his left. She had her camera around her neck, ready to photograph anything of interest.

‘I’m sure we can manage to give up five minutes of our time each day, Brian,’ Jude said calmly. People turned to look at him. They were well aware of who he was, but that wasn’t the only reason. Jude had presence. He wasn’t as tall as Paul, but he had charisma as well as a restless energy that used to make Nina wonder what he would do or say next. Now he was staring at her, as if waiting for her to thank him for supporting her. Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

‘It’s not really much to ask,’ she carried on, ‘and I’m sure you understand why it’s important. Now, do any of you have anything to say while we’re here? Before I let you all get back to it.’

‘Start day is officially today, isn’t it?’ Lis reminded her, sounding as if she had a gripe, after all.

‘It is. I’m afraid there’s no time to waste.’ Nina looked up at the sky. ‘The weather forecast is favourable for the next few days, but you never know what it might do here in Bass Strait.’

‘I already know what needs to be done in the cottages,’ Brian said. ‘We can get started on that.’ He began to walk away, only to stop and face her again. ‘I take it we’re finished here?’

‘If no one has anything more to say?’

Apparently, no one did. Paul waved a hand. ‘Lunch at twelve,’ he said, heading back to his food-preparation area. The others drifted away, some of them chatting together. Elle snapped a photo of Nina with the tower of the lighthouse rearing up behind her, and with a smile, followed the rest.

Nina thought that had gone reasonably well. The sun was shining, everyone was happy, and she was finally here on Benevolence. She had a job to do and she intended to do it. And she had something to prove. The past was locked away, and she did not intend to open that door no matter what Paul said. What could possibly go wrong?