25.

Anton.

She wasn’t mistaken. The voice was definitely Anton’s and he was in the Mullinjim kitchen having coffee with her aunt.

Bella sagged against the doorjamb, winded by shock, her mind spinning with questions. How on earth had Anton got here?

She hadn’t seen a strange vehicle outside.

And why had he come?

Unfortunately the answer to that was painfully clear. There could only be one reason a romantic young Frenchman would travel twelve thousand miles to land on his girlfriend’s doorstep.

Bella’s knees were trembling and not in a good way. Her day with Gabe had wiped Anton from her mind. Worse, she’d invited Gabe to join them for dinner tonight.

From the kitchen, she could hear Liz’s voice. ‘I’m sure I heard the ute come back. Bella should be here any minute.’

Bella remembered her fond farewell to Anton at the airport and the promises she’d made, and – cringe – the emotional email she’d sent him just a few short days ago. She felt sick.

How could she have guessed her life would change so quickly? Only very recently her goals had been simple. She would do her duty here at Mullinjim and then hurry back to France. To Anton.

On Sunday, the day she’d sent the email, Gabe had just broached the subject of friendship, only friendship with no chance of anything more. She’d been at rock bottom on Sunday evening and she’d consoled herself by turning to Anton.

Since then, so much had happened so quickly. After just two days alone with her old boyfriend, she’d let poor Anton slide out of focus.

Was she the shallowest woman in the universe?

Now she had to prove that she wasn’t. Anton had travelled here in good faith and she had no choice. She had to paste on a smile and welcome him.

Straightening her shoulders, she took several deep breaths before she set off down the hallway to the kitchen.

‘Ah, here’s Bella.’ Liz was beaming and probably relieved to see her.

And Anton was smiling, too, as he rose from his chair, looking lean and athletic, his collar-length dark hair swinging with the movement. He was wearing an open-necked white business shirt, black trousers and black polished shoes. His cheekbones and nose were more prominent than Bella remembered and he looked very . . . French.

‘Anton, what a wonderful surprise.’ She smiled at him as she crossed the room, conscious that her greeting was probably more sedate than he’d expected. ‘I’ve been fire-fighting,’ she said. ‘So I’m afraid I’m all sooty and smoky.’

‘It does not matter.’ Anton hugged her and kissed her cheeks, her lips. After an overnight journey, his chin was quite stubbled and scratchy and she felt it scrape against her skin. ‘I’ve missed you, Bella.’

He was the second man to have told her this today, but this time she felt terrible, as if she’d misled him. How could she have guessed that her heart was such a turncoat?

‘I’ve missed you too.’ It was more or less true. She had missed him until just a few days ago.

‘Anton arrived on the mail truck,’ commented Liz from the far side of the kitchen table.

He gave an apologetic smile. ‘There was no other transport. I had no idea you lived . . . ’ He lifted his hands as if he were searching for the right words.

‘In the middle of nowhere?’ Bella supplied.

‘And then the poor man had to amuse himself while I suffered little Declan Browne murdering my piano.’

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here.’

‘You weren’t to know,’ said Anton. ‘I wanted to surprise you.’

‘And you certainly have!’

Bella wished she could generate a smidgen more excitement. She was conscious of Liz’s watchful gaze.

‘Can I pour you a coffee, Bella?’

What she really needed was a time machine that could whisk her back an hour or so while she cancelled Gabe’s dinner invitation. After that, she needed a shower. She would be so much more hospitable if she were clean. But she could hardly dash off to the bathroom immediately when Anton had already been hanging around for half the afternoon.

‘If you don’t mind my eau de smoke.’

‘Of course we don’t mind, do we, Anton?’

‘Not at all.’

So Bella sat and accepted the mug Liz filled for her, but almost as soon as her aunt had handed the mug over she glanced rather pointedly at the clock. ‘It’s time I brought those hens in.’

With that, Liz exited, diplomatically leaving the two of them alone.

Bella gripped her mug tightly, holding it in front of her, almost like a shield.

‘I can’t believe you’ve come all this way,’ she said.

‘What did you expect after that email you sent?’ Anton was smiling as he bent forward to kiss her on the lips. ‘If you sent that email to a dying man, he would have pulled off the life support, climbed out of bed and arrived here on the next plane.’

‘Really? Was it that bad?’

‘It was that good.’ He grinned at her. ‘It’s gone viral on the internet.’

Bella blushed, even though she knew he was joking about the internet. They both had a bit of a chuckle, but then she quickly fired questions, asking him all about his flight and about the quality of the snow on Mont Cenis and the ski slopes. And of course, she wanted news of their old gang at Alpazur.

‘It must be a shock to come from snowy Alps to this outback heat,’ she said, fanning herself with her hand. ‘If I’d known you were planning to come out here, I’d have warned you to wait till it’s cooler.’

‘I don’t mind the heat,’ Anton said politely. ‘And I’ve brought cooler clothes.’

‘You’re probably dying to get changed then.’ Bella jumped to her feet. ‘You’d probably love a shower, too, after your long journey. I certainly need one. I feel absolutely gross.’

‘Yes, I will change.’

‘Where are your things?’ Already, she was on her feet and leading him out of the kitchen and back into the hallway.

‘Your aunt told me to put my bag in there,’ Anton said, pointing.

Bella almost stumbled when she saw his label-covered, navy-blue duffle bag sitting squarely on the white fluffy mat at the end of her bed. Of course this was where her broadminded aunt would expect him to stay.

‘Lovely,’ she murmured as soon as she could breathe again.

‘Your aunt has been so hospitable.’ Anton stepped towards Bella.

‘Yes, she’s a darling, isn’t she? I’ll – um – just get my things.’

In a blink, Bella was at her wardrobe, pulling undies, a T-shirt and fresh jeans from drawers. ‘I’ll grab a quick shower in the ensuite and you can use the main bathroom. It’s just across the hallway.’

‘Yes, Liz showed me.’

‘Good. I’ll be back in two shakes.’

‘Excuse me? Two shakes?’

‘Sorry.’ Bella hurried to give him a conciliatory kiss. On the cheek. ‘I meant I’ll be very quick. Two shakes of a dead lamb’s tail.’

Anton smiled. ‘In a while, crocodile?’

‘Yeah, something like that.’

With the hens safely caged for the evening, Liz rested her elbows on the top railing of the veggie garden fence. Gus, who was her faithful companion these days, sat at her feet, and the afternoon sun slid away, sending long purple shadows across the home paddock and casting a pretty bronzed sheen over the dry, parched landscape.

It was rather beautiful, Liz thought.

While she hoped she wouldn’t have to stay here for too long, she was certainly enjoying the peace and quiet of the bush. It was rather like a self-imposed rest cure.

Now that she’d stepped, temporarily, off the performance tread­mill, she’d been surprised to realise how very hectic her normal routine had been.

As a concert pianist she’d had to keep herself constantly at peak performance and that required long hours of daily practice, as well as endless rehearsals, publicity sessions, and then, the adrenaline charge of the actual performance.

It wasn’t just a job and it was more than a career – it was a way of life in the same way that being a cattleman was her brother’s way of life.

And Bella’s way of life, too . . .

Coming home to Mullinjim with Bella had been a revelation for Liz. She’d watched her niece set off each morning to tackle all manner of tough outdoor jobs, only to come home quite late, exhausted and dirty, and then to sit up after dinner at the computer, filling in complicated cattle management grids and tables for her father.

Not once had Bella complained about the workload and she seemed to take pride in doing everything well.

Which proved quite clearly to Liz that her niece loved the life here, even though she hadn’t actually admitted it. More importantly, Bella was totally, utterly suited to life on a cattle property. She had the full skill-set and Liz had no doubt this was where she belonged.

Liz had actually planned to have a heart-to-heart chat with Bella on this very topic. She’d planned to speak to her this evening and to release the girl from her pledge to return to Europe once she was no longer needed here. But Anton’s arrival had put everything in a tailspin. Not least Bella.

Even though Bella had stubbornly insisted she was missing her French boyfriend, Liz had seen the dismay in the girl’s eyes when she’d come into the kitchen. Bella had covered it quickly, of course, but now Liz sincerely regretted that she’d invited Anton to put his luggage in her niece’s room.

‘I should have been far more perceptive and cautious,’ Liz murmured to Gus as she rubbed the soft fur on the top of his head. ‘That goes for Bella, too. I’m afraid her emails may have been a tad impetuous. And now these hens here aren’t the only chickens that have come home to roost.’

Gus stared back at her with sad hazel eyes.

‘Liz.’

The call was low but insistent.

Turning, Liz saw Bella hurrying over the grass, showered and changed, with her freshly shampooed hair bouncing damply. She was wearing her habitual jeans, but she’d teamed them with a surprisingly feminine lavender T-shirt with a low cowl neckline.

‘Can I have a quick word?’ Bella looked distinctly worried.

‘Yes, of course, darling.’

‘I’ve got a bit of a problem.’

‘With Anton?’

‘No. Well, yes . . . sort of, but it’s more complicated than that. I’ve invited Gabe for dinner.’

‘Oh, Bella.’ Liz’s first reaction was to worry about the catering. One unexpected guest was a big enough challenge for her. Now there were two. Or was that three extra? ‘Did you invite Roy as well?’

Bella shook her head. And Liz only had to see the anguish in the girl’s face to remember that thawing extra cutlets or adding extra spuds to the pot were minor dilemmas. This new invitation was surely a sign that there’d been developments of the personal kind with Gabe Mitchell . . . perhaps a rekindling of old flames.

‘Am I right in guessing that Gabe might not be thrilled to meet Anton?’

‘Dead right.’ Bella sighed.

‘Can’t you phone Gabe and put him off for now?’

‘I tried, but there was no answer. He might have already left.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Liz glanced at her watch. ‘He’ll be early.’

‘Or maybe he hasn’t left, but he’s busy.’ Bella ran nervous fingers through her damp hair. ‘I didn’t leave a message. I probably should have, but I lost my nerve. Thing is, Gabe’s bound to hear about Anton eventually and he’ll know why I cancelled and that could be worse in the long run. Any way you look at it, this is a mess.’

‘You mustn’t panic.’

‘It’s too late, Liz. I’m panicking big time.’ Bella groaned. ‘What if Gabe’s already on his way? I should have left a message, shouldn’t I?’

‘Yes, if you wanted to try to stop him.’ Liz slipped her arm around Bella’s shoulders. ‘Whatever you do, stay calm, darling. This sort of thing happens all the time.’

‘What sort of thing?’

‘One girl with two suitors.’

‘In operas, perhaps.’ A beat later, Bella turned to Liz, her eyes wide and searching. ‘Has it happened to you?’

‘Of course.’

‘How did you cope?’

‘I chose one man and diplomatically said goodbye to the other.’

Bella gave an exasperated shake of her head. ‘As if it’s that simple.’

‘It can be.’ Liz knew she was stretching the truth. These triangles were always messy, even heartbreaking, but she wanted to soothe the girl. ‘Right now, I’m more worried about what I’m going to feed these men, especially if Gabe turns up.’

‘He’s not fussy about food. I’ll have one more go at ringing him, and if he’s not there, I’ll leave a message. Cross your fingers.’ With that decided, Bella seemed calmer. ‘What were you planning for tonight?’

‘I was going to experiment with lamb cutlets in egg and breadcrumbs.’

‘Oh, that’s yum, but no, don’t try it tonight. It’s a bit complicated.’ Bella shot her a sympathetic smile. ‘Let’s go for something mega-simple like spag bol. We can thaw the mince in the microwave and there’s no need to start from scratch. There are a couple of bottles of good pasta sauce in the pantry.’

‘Isn’t that a bit ordinary for guests?’

‘That’s your problem, Liz. You’re always trying to be fancy.’

‘But Anton’s French and they’re so good with food.’

‘Well, I’ve seen him wolf down hotdogs, no problem. Besides, he won’t expect gourmet tucker out here.’

‘I suppose you’re right.’ Heaven knew, neither man had come here for the food. ‘You’ve such a cool head when it comes to crises in the kitchen, Bella.’

‘You reckon?’ Bella grimaced. ‘Maybe we should swap heads then. Right now I need your coolness when it comes to crises with men.’

No, you don’t. A shiver ran through Liz as she mentally winced at a recurring, harrowing memory.

Anton, in cream linen slacks, a loose black T-shirt and open-toed sandals, looked unmistakably Gallic as he sat on a kitchen stool with a glass of red wine, while Liz fussed at the stove and Bella set the table.

‘You don’t mind eating in the kitchen, do you?’ Bella asked him.

‘No, of course not.’

‘Our neighbour, Gabe Mitchell, might be joining us,’ she added casually, as she arranged the fourth place mat and cutlery, then went in search of napkins.

Gabe hadn’t answered her second phone call and he hadn’t responded to her message, so she wasn’t sure if he was coming and the tension was killing her.

‘Your neighbour?’ Anton looked amused. ‘But how far away is his house?’

‘Oh, about twenty kilometres.’

‘Just around the corner then,’ Anton said, smiling.

‘That’s what it’s like in the outback.’

‘Does this neighbour live alone?’

‘He – ah – has family, but they’re away on holidays at the moment, so Liz and I have taken pity on him.’

‘That’s kind of you.’

If Gabe turns up, I hope he’ll agree.

‘Here’s Gabe now,’ said Liz.

Bella jumped. Through the window she saw the sweep of a truck’s headlights as it turned into the parking space beyond the hedge. She heard the faint slam of the truck’s door.

Her heart thumped wildly. Gabe had come, after all. Perhaps he’d left home early to check something on the way and he’d missed her message. And tonight he was expecting to have a private conversation, an important, very personal conversation, crucial to their future.

What would he think when he realised his mission was impossible?

Turning from the window, Bella found Anton watching her. She hoped he hadn’t guessed how tense she was. With an effort, she smiled at him. ‘Can I top up your wine?’

‘Not now, thank you.’

She needed to keep busy. Her armpits were damp and her stomach was churning as she cast a nervous glance over the table settings and the bowl of salad she’d prepared. ‘I forgot the salad tongs.’ Grateful for any excuse, she dived for the cupboard.

As she did, there was a knock at the front door.

‘I’ll go,’ said Liz.

Thank you.

As her aunt’s high-heeled sandals clicked down the hallway, Bella was as tense as a swimmer poised on the starting block and waiting for the gun.

She heard Liz say, ‘Hello, Gabe.’

And she heard his deep reply, but although she strained her ears, she couldn’t catch his words nor what Liz said next.

‘Bella.’

Anton’s voice sounded close by and she jumped again. He was right behind her, slipping his arms around her, the way he’d done many times in France. Bella had never minded the possessive gesture before. But tonight was different. As Liz and Gabe’s footsteps came back down the hall towards them, she stiffened.

Dipping his head, Anton nibble-kissed her ear.

‘Not now,’ she hissed frantically.

‘What’s the matter?’ He sounded offended.

‘Our visitor’s here.’

‘But I’m here, too, and I’m––’

Liz and Gabe came into the kitchen. Too late, Anton stepped away.

Gabe was dressed in a fine-checked blue and white shirt and slightly rumpled moleskins instead of his usual jeans. He looked incredibly gorgeous.

And terribly shocked.

Bella’s heart crashed like ripe fruit falling onto concrete, splitting open, spilling . . .

She felt dizzy and she gripped the back of a chair to keep upright. She couldn’t speak.

There would have been an awful, awkward silence if Liz hadn’t taken control.

‘Gabe, I’d like you to meet Anton Bazile. Anton’s a friend of Bella’s from France. Anton, this is our neighbour, Gabe Mitchell.’

‘’Ow do you do, Gabe?’

‘G’day, Anton.’

The grimfaced men exchanged hard-eyed appraisals as they shook hands. Anton was about the same height as Gabe, but leaner, making broad-shouldered Gabe look almost thickset by comparison.

‘Anton arrived on the mail truck,’ Liz said brightly. ‘It was a huge surprise.’

‘No doubt.’ Gabe’s steely, unsmiling gaze switched to Bella. ‘Evening, Bella.’

She gulped, aware of the questions he wanted to fire at her. ‘Hello, Gabe.’

‘Now . . . what can I get you to drink, Gabe?’ Liz intervened smoothly. ‘We’re having a shiraz, but would you prefer beer?’

‘I would, thanks.’

‘FNQ Lager?’

‘That’d be great if you’ve got it.’

Liz hurried to the fridge to retrieve a stubby, while the two men and Bella stood in the brightly lit homestead kitchen, unmoving, like figures in a pageant.

The men were so tense they reminded Bella of contesting young bulls, eyeing each other off and she tried to think of something to say – anything to break the ice – but her brain was in lock-down.

‘Bella, can you drain the spaghetti?’

Once again Liz saved the moment.

‘Sure.’ Bella sprang to life, rushing over to the stove, grabbing the steaming pot and the colander.

‘You should probably try this beer while you’re here,’ Liz told Anton as she handed Gabe a stubby in a neoprene holder. ‘I’m told it’s brewed locally in Cairns.’

‘Yeah,’ added Gabe. ‘At the Blue Sky Brewery.’

‘I will definitely try it then.’

‘Okay,’ chimed in Bella. ‘Pasta’s ready. Take a seat everyone.’ No point in standing around making light conversation tonight.

They sat at the long rectangular table that had graced the Mullinjim kitchen for three generations. Liz and Gabe on one side, Bella and Anton on the other. Bella would have preferred not to sit opposite Gabe, but she had little choice, and as she passed around the salad bowl, she felt ill with tension.

She couldn’t explain any of this stuff to Gabe, but she could feel the full brunt of his disappointment and silent fury.

‘Anton’s father keeps bees,’ she said, desperate to open the conversation with something safe. ‘Monsieur Bazile makes the most divine lavender honey.’

‘Oh, I love lavender honey,’ enthused Liz.

Anton nodded. ‘I would have brought some with me, but it’s not allowed.’

‘No, our customs and quarantine laws are very strict,’ offered Gabe.

He was going to be civil. Bella could at least breathe again.

‘Is this your first trip to Australia?’ Gabe asked politely.

‘It is,’ said Anton, equally polite. ‘And I’m very impressed. Everything here is so big. Your farms, even your houses. It’s quite amazing.’

‘Well, yes. One thing we have is plenty of space.’

‘But we don’t have snow,’ suggested Bella, trying to be tactful.

Anton smiled at her. ‘So you haven’t lost your fondness for snow?’

She shook her head, although her life in France seemed almost unreal now, like something she’d watched in a movie.

‘You should have seen Bella,’ Anton told the others. ‘She used to love to stand out in the street at night with her arms spread to the sky and with snowflakes glistening in her hair, while she watched the snow softly falling in the glow of the lamps.’

‘What a charming picture.’ Gabe’s voice was so cool and sharp it made Bella think of a scalpel cutting paper.

Anton turned to her. ‘I’m so pleased that your father’s recovering. It must be a great relief. Who knows? You might even get back to France before the ski season finishes.’

She could only manage a weak smile in response and in the awkward silence that followed she could feel Gabe’s grim gaze drilling into her.

Poor Anton must have noticed it, too. He looked embarrassed, clearly wondering if he’d said something wrong.

Wanting to rescue him, Bella said, ‘It’ll be wonderful to have Dad back home here and settled in.’

‘So you’re still planning to head back to France?’ Gabe’s question, fired at point-blank range, found its mark, dead centre in her chest.

For a moment she couldn’t speak, could barely hang on to her fork. Whichever way she answered this, she would hurt one of these men, but she’d made a promise to Anton. She’d left her necklace with him, the necklace Gabe had given her – yikes.

Idiot.

‘There are – um – all sorts of loose ends over there,’ she told Gabe and she hoped Anton didn’t mind being called a loose end.

‘There are bound to be loose ends when you have to leave a place in a hurry,’ Liz agreed, as she skilfully twirled her fork into her spaghetti. ‘I’ve left my affairs in a dreadful state. My agent has been tearing his hair out.’

Bless you, Liz. Bella pounced on this chance to redirect the conversation. ‘I hope it won’t be difficult for you when you go back. There’ll still be plenty of concert work, won’t there? Or will you have to jostle with other musicians lining up to grab your gigs?’

A worried little smile flickered briefly over Liz’s features, but then she gave a dismissive wave of her fine, long-fingered hand. ‘Oh, I’ll be fine. After thirty-odd years, I’ve done the hard yards and I’ve earned my good reputation. I’ll have more work offers than I can handle. Now, who’s for seconds? Although I should warn you, we have dessert.’

Dessert was a reheated apricot crumble that Liz had unearthed from the depths of the freezer, but no one minded. In fact, the men seemed relieved to turn their attention to the business of eating. The meal was an ongoing ordeal for Bella, however, and she was very relieved when they got to the end.

Gabe declined Liz’s offer of coffee, making excuses about an early start in the morning.

‘Bella, can you see Gabe to the door, while I make a start on the coffee?’ asked Liz. ‘Anton, why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the lounge room? I’ll bring the coffee in there.’

Bella knew she should be grateful for her aunt’s management of this final awkward moment. Of course, she needed to speak to Gabe alone, to try to explain Anton’s unexpected arrival. But given their rocky history and the fragility of their recent truce, appeasing Gabe tonight would be only slightly less challenging than swimming in a crocodile-infested creek.

‘Let me help to clear the table,’ offered Anton.

‘Oh, aren’t you well trained? Thank you, that would be lovely.’ Liz beamed at Anton, dropped a quick goodbye kiss on Gabe’s cheek and, sent Bella a significant look that seemed to say: Scoot.

Bella scooted, with Gabe at her heels.

At the front door, Gabe said, ‘Walk with me to the truck.’

It was an order, curt and commanding, and Bella knew she had no choice but to obey. Her tension zoomed off the charts as they continued in silence across the front yard, lit first by lights from the verandah and then, more faintly, by moonlight.

Gabe’s truck was in dark shadows by the bougainvillea hedge, so Bella could barely see him when he finally stopped.

From the trees near the creek, a lone curlew let out its mournful shriek. She shivered.

‘Gabe, I’m so sorry,’ she said, wanting to jump in first. ‘I don’t know what to say. I had no idea Anton was coming here. I thought––’

‘No, Bella, you didn’t think. That’s your problem.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You always act first and think later.’

To her shame, she knew this was true – so terribly, annoyingly true – her recent email to Anton being a prime example.

‘To be honest,’ Gabe went on. ‘I’m not interested in anything you have to say until you’ve thought hard and long.’

‘If this is about Anton––’

‘Of course it’s about bloody Anton.’ Gabe sounded tired as if he found this conversation tedious. ‘You need to sort yourself out, Bella. Work out what you really want. Which guy you want to fool around with. What you want to do with your life. If you’re staying here or going back to France.’

‘But, I––’

‘You’ve never been sure what you want.’

Bella choked on a shocked gasp. This wasn’t true. It was unfair. She’d wanted Gabe all along and he’d rejected her.

Gabe was at the side of the truck, reaching for the door handle.

‘You could at least let me try to explain.’

‘You’re not ready to explain.’

She was ready. Of course she was. She was ready to tell Gabe that she wanted him and only him. He was all she’d ever wanted. Meeting Anton had been a mere distraction, a mistake. Her plan to go back to France had been another mistake.

But he wouldn’t believe her. How could she expect him to believe anything she said now, when he’d walked into the kitchen, just a few short hours after their passionate roadside kiss and found her in Anton’s arms?

‘Sort yourself out,’ Gabe ordered harshly, and before she could respond, he swung into the truck, slammed the door and gunned the motor.