Matt stood back and admired his handiwork. A small fence and gate now separated the courtyard, clothes line and old shed from the rest of the five acres. It had taken him the better part of three days, largely because he’d had to re-hang the gate twice. Because his old job had been in the corporate world and his new one was writing, he hadn’t spent as much time outside as he’d have liked. It was good to be out in the sun and the wind, and Matt found that there was something surprisingly satisfying about the whole process of fence building – even if he now had a couple of blisters for his trouble.
Matt had decided that he would break the property up into sections, and building the fence had been the first step. The first section encompassed the house, courtyard, clothes line and shed. Next would be his vegetable garden and hothouse, then after that a small orchard and finally the rest of the land would be for his chooks and a couple of goats.
The goats were a recent addition to the plan. Matt had got kind of carried away when he’d visited Gary on the goat farm. He’d been more than impressed with its operation, the quality of the goat’s cheese and the goats themselves. A small group of the hardy animals had come over to investigate what was going on when Gary was giving him a tour, and two in particular had bleated and demanded attention. One moment Matt had been eyeing them cautiously, and the next he was petting them. They’d followed him as he walked the length of the paddock, and by the time he and Gary had reached the main house he was unashamedly smitten. In a matter of minutes he’d gone from Yeah, I might get a couple of goats once I get the cottage organised to Here, take the money – can I take those two today? Matt had no idea where his self-control went but all of a sudden becoming a goat owner had seemed like the best idea in the world. Gary had laughed, given him a couple of books to read about keeping goats and promised that he’d drop them over next week. That way Matt could have some time to change his mind if he wanted. But even as Matt sat on his couch reading the books he knew that he wanted to go ahead. Besides, with five acres he needed help keeping the weeds down.
The Saturday after that, the guys had turned up with building materials, food and beer. And with the help of Gary, Dean, Davey and a barbecue provided by Freddy, they’d quickly put together a goat shelter. There was a lot of laughter and hard work, and Matt had really felt as if he was accepted, even if he did manage to hit his thumb twice with the damn hammer.
Stepping away from the fence, Matt cast a satisfied look over the new structure. The wooden goat shelter was made up of several different sections. There was a house area with one doorway, and Matt figured that once it was filled with hay the goats would be warm and snug. Attached to the house there was an open deck which was covered by a roof. The roof platform had a railing running around it and was accessible by the four oversized steps. This gave the newly christened goats, Greta and Mabel, something to climb on.
But the fence was an even bigger success, in Matt’s book. Building the new goat house with his mates had given him the confidence to tackle the fence by himself, but he was still pleasantly surprised that he had actually managed it. That didn’t mean that he hadn’t bent the guy at the hardware store’s ear for advice or watched several videos on how to build a fence before he even started. But once he’d got going he’d discovered that not only did he enjoy creating something from scratch, but he also liked the physical aspect of it.
The other upside of manual labour was that his ideas seemed to flow better in the sunlight. He’d been stuck on a scene for two days straight. No matter how many times he rejigged it or rewrote it the damn thing just wouldn’t work. But ever since he’d been working outside, the ideas kept coming, and he was finally able to work the whole thing out. It was an epiphany – out of the blue he realised that he’d been trying to tackle it the wrong way round. When he switched the point of view of the characters, everything fell into place.
But it wasn’t just plot points that flowed freely; other ideas and thoughts had surfaced while he’d worked with the sun warming his back. The more time he spent in White Gum Creek, the more he liked it. He enjoyed company and the feeling of community – like he belonged. In a city it was easy to be anonymous and to become lost in the sheer number of people. Sure, he had his friends, family and favourite haunts, but he couldn’t remember the last time the person at the supermarket checkout had called him by his name. He realised that it was the little things, the things he’d never have thought could possibly be important, that actually were.
Then there was Bec Duprey. He hadn’t purposely thought about her – there had been no conscious effort on his part – but she kept popping up in his mind. He kept thinking about the night at the pub. She’d been uncomfortable and he should have stopped checking her out but he just hadn’t been able to look away. He didn’t exactly know why, but there was something about her that made him want to look, to stare. She obviously couldn’t stand him so why on earth should he be drawn to her? It was all too confusing. Maybe he should shove it in one of his books, then perhaps he’d be able to make some sense of it.
He glanced back at his fence and grinned. It was dead level and didn’t look as if it was going to fall over – which was a bonus. In fact, as he looked at his creation he actually started to believe that maybe it was possible for him to renovate the old place. He went inside to grab his camera. He was going to film a bit of footage of his fabulous new fence to put in this week’s vlog.
The vlog had become important to Matt. That had been a surprise and something he never expected when Jules had first badgered him into it. Not only did he enjoy his weekly chat but he now actively looked forward to it . . . and so, judging by their comments, did his fans. He’d never thought that anyone would bother to watch him, but they did. In the early days he’d just talked about anything that came into his head – well, crap really. Added to that he’d included some stuff about his writing or the craft in general. But as he’d got into the swing of it, the vlog had taken on a life of its own. It had morphed into a mixture of his Alistair Tremayne series, his growing interest in self-sufficiency and eventually his quest for the perfect country cottage.
Interestingly, ever since he’d started there had been a steady incline in his book sales, which was amazing, but as time passed Matt knew that he kept his vlog going for himself. For a long time it had been his only link to the outside world. He was grateful for his fans and their comments, which always reminded him that he wasn’t totally alone.
He knew that he was to blame for part of the isolation that had kept him away from the human race for the best part of a year and a half. After the accident, the guilt and the sense of loss had been almost too much for him to bear. He’d retreated, first in the hospital and then in his apartment. Friends and family had tried at first to support him but he couldn’t deal with the awkward silences and the look of pity in their eyes. The weeks had gone by and Matt’s friends had stopped dropping in. At first he hadn’t even realised, and by the time he’d noticed the distinct absence of humanity, he didn’t care. The only two souls who had been brave enough to attempt to break down his well-constructed walls were Jules and Nathan.
Neither Nathan nor Jules had seemed to care that Matt would barely acknowledge their presence. And finally, after hours of determination and endless small talk that he didn’t respond to, Matt had found his way back. He owed them, he knew that now. Without their persistence, Matt would still be barricaded up in the apartment with ghosts and no desire to live again.
Both Jules and Nathan had encouraged his vlogging. At first it had been a lifeline but now Matt couldn’t imagine his life without it.
Matt picked up his camera and headed back outside. He walked over to the fence, ran his hand through his messy hair in a vain attempt to flatten it, and turned on the camera.
‘Hey everyone – Matt here. Hope you’re all doing well on this fine Tuesday afternoon. You all know that I was going to build a fence – so check out this bad boy.’ Matt turned the camera around and scanned along his newly constructed masterpiece. ‘Pretty good, huh? Now wait till you see my goat house!’
***
Bec threw herself into her work – it was all she could do. In some ways it was the only thing she was able to control. Pathetic? Well, maybe it was. At twenty-five, she thought she’d be able to voice her opinion and fight for what she believed in. The old Bec would have gone toe to toe with her father about how the farm should be run. The old Bec wouldn’t have pulled her punches and would have demanded that he take notice of what she was saying. But that was before her dad had had the accident and Zane Turner had shaken her foundations and made her doubt herself.
The past was the past, but for Bec it still cast a long shadow over the present.
Whenever she felt that she was edging back to her old self, Zane Turner always appeared and knocked her back down again – mentally, anyway. The problem was that she still felt vulnerable, not because she had any feelings for him anymore but because the one and only time she had trusted her heart and had fallen head over heels in love, the whole thing had ended up as a bloody disaster. One of the drawbacks of living in such a small town was that you tended to bump into people – even the ones you wished you’d never see again. And that’s what had happened over the past few years. No matter how much Bec wanted to put Zane Turner behind her and move on with her life, he was always there in the background, reminding her of what a fool she had been.
The only thing she had to be thankful for was that the local gossip mill had never found out what had actually happened. Oh, there had been a lot of speculation, but no one had had the balls to walk up to Bec and actually ask her why White Gum Creek’s golden couple had finished just as it was beginning. Tanya Fletcher had told anyone who would listen what had happened, but generally people dismissed what she was saying – one, because everyone knew that she was jealous of Bec, and two, because Zane had never backed up her story. If she and Zane had been having an affair and he was head over heels in love with Tanya then surely he would have spoken out, they reasoned. At the time, Bec had been tempted to be honest about what Zane had done and what a complete tool he was. But she thought that if she told the truth of how she’d found out that Zane had betrayed her, it would somehow reflect badly on herself. Well, maybe that wasn’t exactly true, but it was what she felt. If the town knew how Zane had pulled the wool over her eyes, they would ask how she couldn’t have known what was going on. How could she have been so blind to the situation? On reflection she had decided it was better not to say anything. The only people who knew what had gone down were her mum and dad, Tash and Sally, and they would never say a word.
For her part, Bec now tried to pretend that Zane didn’t exist, which was difficult some days as the far paddock shared a fence line with Cara Downs. She never acknowledged him in the street and basically ignored him whenever they bumped into each other. She’d expected him to take the hint, but each time they met he would grin or wave at her, which made it all the more infuriating.
It was as if he hadn’t done anything wrong – the bastard.
***
A couple of weeks had passed since Bec’s argument with Jack over the tractor. As usual she’d immersed herself fully in the day-to-day jobs of running the farm since then. If she worked hard enough, she didn’t have time to think – which was a good thing.
Bec was in the stock feed shop grabbing some poultry feed one afternoon when Zane cornered her near the display of rakes and jerry cans. Up close she saw that he hadn’t changed. Zane Turner was as still as handsome as when they had been together. His blond hair was bleached from the sun and his skin a golden colour from too many days spent outside. His blue eyes crinkled as he smiled down at her. Once, that look would have sent her heat beating faster, but not anymore – now she felt nothing.
‘Hey, Bec, when are you going to drop the silent treatment?’ Bec took a step to the right in the hope of sliding past him but he moved and blocked her escape.
‘I have nothing to say to you. Now get out of my way.’
‘You can’t hold a grudge this long. It’s not healthy. Look, I understand we didn’t part very well but it was years ago. Can’t we just be civil with each other?’
Bec shook her head. ‘Nope, I don’t think so. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.’
He reached out and clasped her wrist. ‘Please, Bec, can’t we act like adults and bury the hatchet?’
‘Not unless it’s in your head,’ she answered with a bright smile as she pulled her wrist out of his grasp. It was a childish response but Bec felt a shot of pure satisfaction as she pushed past him and walked towards the shop entrance.
‘Come on, Bec, I’m sorry for how things panned out. You know that you’re going to have to forgive me sometime.’
‘I doubt that very much.’
She had almost made it out of the front door when she collided with something hard. She raised her head and looked straight into Matt Harvey’s eyes. Great. His arms closed around her, whether it was to steady her or stop himself from stumbling, Bec wasn’t sure. The last thing she needed now was to have Matt witness her pathetic attempt to deal with the past.
‘Hey, are you okay?’
Bec nodded as she stepped away. ‘Yes, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to plough you down.’
Matt dropped his hands by his sides before he started to bend down to pick up his walking stick.
‘Oh, let me,’ Bec said as she scooped it up and handed it back to Matt.
‘Thanks . . .’
‘No, it’s fine. It was my fault entirely. One day I’ll learn to watch where I’m going.’ Bec gave him a fleeting smile as she stepped around him and slipped out of the shop. Her intent was to put as much distance between herself and Zane as possible. Heat infused her cheeks as the old wounds opened up and she began to drown in bitterness, betrayal and, above all, embarrassment. Yes, right up to today, to this very minute, Bec was embarrassed and humiliated that she hadn’t seen Zane’s duplicity until it was too late. She’d been a sucker for his good looks and pretty talk, never realising that behind the facade was a calculating individual who was only acting out of self-interest. God, she been totally taken in and had actually believed that he loved her. How stupid was that?
***
‘Bye.’ Matt looked over his shoulder but Bec had already disappeared. With a shake of his head he walked over to Dean at the counter.
‘Hi, was she alright?’
‘Who? Oh, Bec – yeah, I think so. She just hightailed it out of here because she bumped into Zane Turner. You know how it is,’ Dean said in a hushed tone.
‘Oh . . . actually, I don’t,’ Matt answered with a frown. ‘What do you—?’
‘Hey, Dean,’ came a voice behind Matt as a blond man sauntered up to the counter. ‘Listen, have you got any ewe and lamb pellets?’
‘Zane,’ said Dean, nodding at him. ‘No, but I’ve got some coming in. Should be here in the morning.’
‘Great, could you give me a call when the delivery gets here and I’ll swing by.’
‘Not a problem.’
Turner looked over at Matt, as if sizing him up.
‘This is Matt Harvey, he’s just moved in,’ said Dean. ‘We’ve adopted him into our poker evenings. Matt, this is Zane Turner.’
‘Welcome to White Gum Creek. I’m at Cara Downs, just north of the town.’
‘Thanks,’ Matt said as he shook Turner’s outstretched hand. ‘Yeah, I’ve driven past your place – it looks great.’
Zane’s smile widened. ‘It’s the best farm in the whole area. So whereabouts are you living?’
Matt smiled. He bet that if Bec had been here she would have had something to say about that. ‘I’ve got a little cottage on Magpie Lane.’
Turner’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘You mean the old white cottage that sits on the edge of Bluestone Ridge?’
‘Yep, that’s it.’
‘Right. So are you just passing through?’
‘No, I mean to stay for quite a while.’
‘Hmmm, I see. Well, I’d better run. See you around, Harvey. Dean.’
Dean gave him a nod and waited until Turner had left the shop before he turned his attention back to Matt.
‘They used to be a couple.’
Matt frowned. Somehow it seemed an odd sort of pairing. Okay, maybe that wasn’t even fair. He had no idea what Zane Turner was like, but the idea that there was history between Zane and Bec didn’t sit that well with him. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, they were an item at school, going to get married and everything. And then about four years ago, just before old man Duprey had his accident, they called off the engagement.’
‘Why did they do that?’
‘Neither of them will say, so we can only speculate. The general theory is that Turner did something stupid and Bec ended it. And Zane does have a habit of doing stupid things.’
‘But you’re not sure.’
Dean shook his head. ‘No, but it must have been something pretty bad for her to break it off so suddenly. It was a shock. The whole town thought that their pairing was inevitable. You know, the two richest families uniting. The marriage would eventually have bound Bluestone Ridge and Turner’s place, Cara Downs, together.’
‘And no one knows why?’ Matt asked.
Dean thought about the question for a second. ‘Knowing Bec, I reckon she probably would have kept things pretty quiet. So the whole episode is just rumour and speculation. People have theories but no one knows for sure.’
‘And I gather that Bec and Turner don’t get on?’
‘He’s willing but Bec hardly acknowledges his existence. It changed her, you know. Oh, she’s still a down-to-earth sort of girl who will tell you what she thinks, but there’s something different about her. And I don’t know if that’s to do with Turner or something else.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I grew up with her. There’s a . . . oh, I don’t know, just a part of her is missing.’ He shifted position and leant on the counter and grinned at Matt. ‘Enough of that. God, I’m one of the first to criticise the rumour mill of this place and here I am spilling the beans just like the best of them.’
‘It’s okay – like I’ve got anyone to tell,’ Matt said. ‘Although I have to say I find it fascinating to see how the town works. Guess it’s the writer in me.’
‘As long as you don’t go naming names I reckon we’re good. So what brings you in here? I wouldn’t have thought that a stock feed and farm equipment shop was your thing.’
‘Hey, I keep animals.’
‘My friend, I don’t think two goats make you a grazier.’
‘No?’
Dean shook his head and let out a laugh. ‘Not by a long shot. Besides, you may live in the country now but you don’t even own a decent pair of boots, or a hat – or come to think of it, even a dog.’
‘I’m making a mess of living rural, aren’t I?’ Matt said with a laugh.
‘Damn right. Better smarten yourself up, otherwise people will begin to talk.’
***
Zane’s mobile rang as he was walking into the kitchen. His dad was just sitting down at the table for dinner and glanced up at him.
Zane pulled out his phone and frowned – well, this was going to be awkward.
‘Sorry, Dad, start without me – I have to take this,’ he said as he hightailed it out the back door. He answered the phone as he walked, making sure he was well out of earshot.
‘Hi Mum, how are you?’
Zane chatted to his mum for about ten minutes. They talked generally at least once a week, sometimes more, and had done ever since she had left Cara Downs. When Zane was younger he’d tried to hide that fact from his father, because he hated seeing the look of betrayal in his eyes. But as Zane got older he made a point of talking to her. As far as Zane was concerned, whatever had happened in the past and the decisions that had been made were done and dusted. Life went on and no one could stop that.
He went back inside to find his dad cutting into his steak.
‘I waited for a while but I thought it was going to get cold.’
Zane sat down opposite him. ‘It’s okay, I said to start without me.’
Silence lingered over the table longer than it should have.
‘So, I suppose that was your mother?’
‘Yes.’
‘Everything alright?’
‘Yeah, she was ringing to see if I was going to make it down next week for little Stacey’s birthday.’
‘You going to that?’ Mick didn’t look up from his plate.
‘Yes, I’m going to my sister’s birthday party. I promised her that I would.’
‘She’s not—’
Zane didn’t let him finish the sentence. ‘Yes, she is my sister, and I’ll be going next weekend.’
‘What, the whole weekend? There’s a hell of a lot of work to do.’
‘And I reckon it’ll still be here when I get back – it always is.’
‘So how old is the kid going to be?’
‘Seven.
Look, Dad, I know there was a lot of shit between you and mum but honestly, it’s got nothing to do with Stacey.’
Mick shrugged his shoulders as he concentrated on his dinner. ‘I suppose you’re right. I hope the kid has a nice day then. Is your mother still with that guy?’
‘By that guy, I guess you mean Peter? And yes, she is – just like she has been for the past nine years.’
Mick gave a disgusted sort of grunt and the rest of the meal was finished in silence.
‘Listen, I reckon I’ll go into town for a bit. Meet up with a couple of the guys at the pub. Do you want anything?’ Zane said as he stood up from the table.
Mick shook his head. ‘Nah – I’ll see you later.’
Zane was relieved when he finally managed to get the hell out of there. He knew his dad well; Mick would stew and be silent for the rest of the night. That’s what any mention of Janet did to him.
Zane didn’t head into town. Instead he drove the old ute down by the dam, just where the weeping willows skimmed their branches over the water. He parked by the edge of the dam before going and sitting on the back tray of the ute. He looked at the stars in the clear night sky, and the breeze blew across the surface of the dam, causing the dark water to ripple. This was his spot – the only place in Cara Downs that really felt like his.
Years ago he had run here when his parents were fighting – and they had always been fighting. Mick was a difficult man, exacting, stubborn and old school (not in a good way) when it came to his perception of women. Zane’s mum had tried really hard to be everything that Mick wanted but she’d needed more than just being here at the farm. Perhaps if Mick had included her more in the decision-making about the property then things might have been different – but maybe not.
His father had always made a point of telling people that Janet had abandoned her boy, abandoned them – but Zane remembered it differently. He had never once felt abandoned by his mother. Was he sad that she’d left and the family was broken into pieces? You bet. But inside he knew that his mother had wanted him to come with her. She loved him and he’d never doubted it. The decision to stay had been his. Even at the age of fourteen he’d known that his father wouldn’t handle it if they both left. Yes, his father doted on him, and if you asked anyone in White Gum Creek, they’d say that Zane was a spoilt brat. And it was true to a point, Zane wouldn’t deny it. One way that Mick liked to show the town that he was succeeding was to flash money around. It was all wrapped up in that weird competitiveness that he had with Jack Duprey. Mick always wanted to better Jack at every turn. Zane was not a hundred per cent sure why, but it went way back. When they had first come to the area, Grandad had scraped a little money together and managed to buy a few acres next to Bluestone Ridge. He’d started with nothing but slowly he and Mick had managed to build it up and eventually buy more land. There’d been talk at the time that Sam Turner would never be the grazier that the Dupreys were – it was in their blood, while Sam was an upstart with visions of grandeur. It was harsh, but then gossip usually was. Perhaps that’s where Mick’s obsession with besting Jack Duprey had started.
The Turner family had had a coup when Bluestone Ridge had run into trouble from a series of bad runs. Mick had been fifteen at the time. The Dupreys had been forced to sell part of their spread, and Zane’s grandfather had begged and borrowed until he’d managed to buy a couple of paddocks which bordered their land. It was a triumph that neither Mick nor Jack Duprey could forget. Over the years Jack had approached Mick to buy back the land, but Zane knew that was never going to happen. Maybe it was all rolled up in Mick feeling the need to prove himself, but either way, Cara Downs always came first – and if it came at the expense of the Dupreys, all the better.
Mick’s unswerving focus on their land was one of the reasons Zane’s mum had eventually left. Mick would rather see his last five dollars go into the farm than into his family’s bellies. In the early days it had happened more than once, and Janet could never understand how he could put the farm before his own son, and why he had an incurable need to always best Jack Duprey.
Zane hadn’t regretted staying with Mick, because deep down he knew that his mum was the stronger of the two and at the time, even though he would never admit to it, Mick had needed Zane to survive. It was a hard call because there were days when he’d wished he was still with his mum. He hoped that he’d done the right thing. He liked to think he always tried to do the right thing, but more often than not he managed to cock things up. Just look at the mess he’d managed to make with Bec. He did regret that, the whole being engaged to one woman and sleeping with another thing. It certainly hadn’t been one of his finest moments. He put it down to – well, just being young and kind of a dick.
Bec had deserved better treatment. She was good and decent, and could be funny sometimes. If he had been thinking with his head he would have seen that marrying her would have been the smart thing to do. It was all very well being able to look back with hindsight and to see your mistakes glaring like a neon sign back at you.
He didn’t love her – but he liked her, and maybe that could have been enough. But he’d burned that bridge, which was a pity because sitting here tonight it was pretty apparent that Bec Duprey was still the only smart marriage choice in the whole damn shire.