Jilted (2 page)

‘Ellie’s coming back.’

Flynn opened his mouth but no sound came out. He sat still for a moment, the words echoing in his head.

Then, ‘Fuck!’ He shot out of his chair and stormed onto the verandah.

Ten years! Ten years since she’d left him standing at the altar in a mixture of shock, hurt and embarrassment, questioning why. He thought he’d pulled through, dealt with all those feelings, moved on. But he couldn’t have, not the way his eyes were prickling and his heart was pounding.

He spun around, not knowing what to do, before he thumped the verandah post and headed back into the kitchen. Needing to keep his hands busy, he reached for his Coke, but he misjudged and his fingers hit the side of the can, toppling it over.

‘Leave it,’ his mum said. Her lips were pursed and he could tell she was a hair’s breadth from tears herself. ‘It’ll be okay.’

‘No use crying over spilt Coke,’ he said, trying to make a joke. But his tone wasn’t funny and Karina didn’t laugh. He knew she was terrified that Ellie’s return would send him back to the way he’d been before. She’d already lost her husband. She didn’t need to lose her son.

As much as he wanted to retreat to his own space – to forget about the afternoon’s game and head to the dam at the far end of
their property – he couldn’t. He had to maintain the façade for his mum. For the town. He had to pretend he didn’t care, pretend the thought of running into Ellie didn’t send him into a cold sweat.

It would be easier, he reflected, if he’d found out she’d died. At least that way he’d come to terms with the grief. Surely. Things would be completely different. He wouldn’t have to hide photos of her in a box at the back of his wardrobe. People would talk about her fondly, sharing memories, rather than making sure they never uttered her name in his presence. He knew they talked; it’s what people in small communities did best. But they never talked about her to him. The town protected him. If people pitied him, he didn’t know, but around here, there wasn’t any sign that Ellie Hughes had ever existed. It was as if the moment she’d walked out of his life, she’d vacated the planet. In the newsagent, he never saw her face in
TV Week
or on the cover of
Women’s Weekly
. But if he went further afield, to Perth or Bunbury, she was constantly in the limelight. Australia adored her. In a way, that hurt Flynn, but it was nothing on the sadness she’d left inside him. The black hole that no attempts at relationships, no casual sex, no nothing, had ever been able to fill.

Working hard to keep his breathing steady, he cleaned up the Coke and recalled some gossip he’d heard at the hairdresser. He might not be able to take his mind off Ellie, but he’d do his damn best to stop his mum thinking about her.

‘Some townies are reviving the theatrical society.’ He ditched the wet tea towel in the sink and leaned back against the table.

‘So I heard. Good news travels fast.’ Karina gestured to the row of tiny nail polish bottles on the table. ‘Lucy’s planning on auditioning. For some reason, she thinks the colour of her nails will make all the difference. And of course, she has to test them all first.’

Flynn frowned. ‘You’re not going to let her, are you? Year twelve is huge, she should be concentrating on her studies.’

Karina raised her eyebrows and smirked. ‘When did you become so old and stuck-in-the-mud?’

‘Don’t forget the
wise
bit.’

‘Whatever,’ Karina said, waving a hand in front of her face, mimicking her daughter in both language and action. ‘Lucy won’t listen to me. She’ll only sulk and pout and ignore her exams altogether if I don’t let her get in on this. Besides, it’s just a fad. She wanted to start a cheerleading troupe for the Hurricanes last term, remember?’

‘Yeah, I suppose.’

But his gut felt heavy at the thought of his little sister acting. No matter, the distraction seemed to have worked. His mum was once again stirring her soup with an attentive look upon her face.

Flynn took the chance to slip out the back.

Chapter Two

As the Transwa bus turned into Hope Junction, Ellie tugged the rim of her sports cap down, hoping, with the help of her dark sunnies, that it would cover much of her face. Wearing bland jeans and a man’s flannelette shirt, and with her mousey, chocolate-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, she prayed that no one would recognise Stella Williams – one of Australia’s favourite television characters – at least for now. She just wanted the chance to get to Matilda without attention, without anyone confronting her and telling her, in what would no doubt be colourful language, exactly what they thought of her.

But she knew it was only a short-term fix. There were no secrets in the entertainment industry, and even fewer in small towns. Everyone would be on high alert, awaiting her arrival. Next week’s glossies would have the news of her sudden departure from the set, with some happy to speculate on the reason while others dug
deeper for the truth. Either way, Ellie’s return to Hope wouldn’t remain a secret for long.

She imagined most people in her situation would be smiling, reminiscing fondly, eager to start adding to their memories. She had fond recollections too, if she looked back far enough, but they’d all been railroaded by her most painful memory. The memory of making the biggest mistake of her life and, as a result, having to leave the only place she’d ever really called home.

But no one knew the real reason she’d left, not even Matilda. They just thought she was a selfish bimbo, a girl who hadn’t fallen far from her parents’ tree and couldn’t hack commitment any more than she could country life. That hurt, but she’d rather that than the truth.

‘Hope Junction,’ called the driver.

She dared to look up slightly, stealing a quick peek out the window to see if anything had changed. The welcome sign still read ‘Population 1,199’, although there’d been at least 1,500 residents when she’d lived here. The Shell servo still had a 1970s feel and the garden centre on the corner looked more rundown than ever. The only sign of progress was a new café next to Apex Park – ‘About Coffee Time’ plastered in big letters across the top of the building.

For a split second, Ellie smiled wistfully, recalling weekends spent in the park, kissing Flynn under the slide, kissing Flynn on the picnic table, kissing Flynn by the bridge, kissing Flynn behind the toilet block. No doubt today’s teens would be peeved with the location of the new café and being forced to find alternative premises for canoodling.

‘Aren’t you getting off here, miss?’

The driver’s question broke her reverie. She turned her head slightly. Yep, he was definitely talking to her, but with neither bitterness nor admiration in his voice. He obviously hadn’t a clue
who she was. Perhaps her tomboy disguise would work after all. Perhaps she’d be able to walk the short kilometre to Matilda’s house, dump her things and get to the hospital without causing much of a stir.

If she were honest with herself, it wasn’t running into locals that most scared her. It was just the one local, the resident who, despite still being a constant player in her thoughts, she was absolutely petrified to see. How could she ever face him after what had happened? If he ever deigned to speak to her again, to hear her out – and she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t – what could she possibly say? Sorry wouldn’t even begin to cut it.

Not taking any chances, Ellie leaped off the bus, swiped her rucksack and suitcase from the hold and, with eyes trained firmly on the cracked pavement, began jogging towards Matilda’s cottage. Although it was longer, she took the back way, past the football oval and the swimming pool, avoiding the main street. Did Flynn still play football? She glanced at her watch, knowing if she hung around a couple more hours (and if the Hurricanes were playing a home game), she’d find out. A shiver shot through her at the thought and she picked up her pace, all the more eager to get to her destination.

In all the years Ellie had been in Sydney, Matilda had visited faithfully every Christmas. And although Ellie was always invited to loads of high-society parties, there was no one she’d rather spend the holidays with than her warm, fun-loving godmother. Matilda had never once questioned Ellie’s decision to leave Hope. She never mentioned Flynn, and although Ellie had been desperate on a zillion occasions to ask how he was going, she’d always been too scared to enquire.

Flynn was always the best-looking guy at school, in the town – hell, the world wouldn’t have been an overstatement. Captain of the footy team, tall, strong but still a bit lanky, tanned to perfection.
He had a grin that made you feel all warm and liquidy whenever he flashed it your way. It’d be unrealistic –
stupid –
to think that his heart had stayed true to her. Why would it? Lord knows there’d been enough girls waiting on the sidelines. He’d probably moved on quickly and found someone else, married someone else, maybe even had babies with someone else. Happy, settled down, in love. That would be bad, really bad. Ellie couldn’t bear to think about it, much less to know, and had avoided finding out for a decade. Flynn Stuart Quartermaine was taboo. Someone Matilda never mentioned and someone Ellie never googled. But now, now she’d have no choice. Now she’d have to face what he’d become. Whoever that was. Whoever it was with. She tried to console herself. Maybe he’d left town?

For a moment hope sparred with terror in her heart, but then reality knocked. Flynn would never leave Hope. This area was in his blood, part of who he was. Flynn wouldn’t be Flynn without his farm and country football.

Ellie came to a stop, realising that she’d made it to the cottage without running into trouble. She couldn’t help but smile at this small success. At the end of an avenue off the main street, it was just as she remembered. Only Matilda could get away with living in a quirky, bright purple house, complete with red roof and yellow awnings. Or rather,
half repainted
yellow awnings. She closed her eyes for a second, cringing as she imagined the sixty-nine-year-old up there on a ladder doing the painting herself.

‘Why must you do such ridiculous things?’ Ellie said aloud, looking at the house. If Mat wanted to court danger, she should go bungee jumping or something on one of her holidays. As a respected and once well-known travel writer, money couldn’t be an issue for her. And even if it were, Ellie would have paid for the whole damn house to be painted, renovated and decked out in brand new furniture. Anything to prevent her godmother from
taking such a fall. And from that height, she was lucky not to have done
much
worse than a broken ankle.

Ellie shuddered. If Matilda hadn’t injured herself, she wouldn’t be here. Life could change direction in an instant; every little decision had the power to affect your existence in unfathomable ways. And other people’s. Sometimes Ellie thought it a miracle people had the courage to get out of bed in the mornings.

Enough philosophising
, she told herself. She had keys to find, cars to start, crazy old women to collect and mollycoddle. Because, by golly, Matilda would be mollycoddled. Her godmother never sat still long enough for Ellie to do anything much special for her, to repay her for all she’d done, but now she wouldn’t have a choice. Ellie would do everything she could to make Matilda feel loved. She planned on being so focused and dedicated to her role as carer that she wouldn’t have time to think or stress about what the locals were saying behind her back.

Although the plastic frog had jumped to the other side of the old wooden verandah, the key was still there, tucked inside, just as Ellie suspected. She stood on the hot pink welcome mat where she’d first landed as a confused and heartbroken fifteen-year-old, then let herself in, smiling at the bombardment of familiar smells. Matilda had been in hospital for two days now, but this place was so infused with aromatherapy essences that Ellie reckoned it would smell like a flower shop even if she’d been gone a year.

Dumping her bags in the living room, Ellie quickly tidied the kitchen table, wanting the house to be in order for Matilda’s return. Her thoughts turned to dinner and what she might prepare (from her limited repertoire), but when she opened the fridge, and then the pantry, dismay set in. Both empty, bar half a packet of sugar, two tins of baked beans, some old crackers and Moroccan mint teabags. What on earth did Mat live on? Whatever the answer, one thing was clear: Ellie would have to go shopping. Deep down she’d
known she couldn’t hole up in the cottage for the duration of her stay, but it had been a lovely fantasy. Still, it was just after midday. Mat would have eaten lunch already and Ellie couldn’t wait to see her.

She found the car keys in the leaf-shaped bowl in the hall and was about to leave when she decided on one final touch. Racking her brain, trying to recall what she’d learnt about essences and oils while living in this house, Ellie remembered something about lemon and ylang ylang being good for convalescing. Once a few drops were in two of Mat’s many burners and the candles lit, she smiled and left the cottage.

She started the vintage Holden Premier and turned towards the hospital. Once out on the road, however, the calm instilled in her at the cottage quickly dispersed. Whatever way she looked at it, she’d have to deal with someone at the hospital – nurses, doctors, orderlies, who knows? More nervous than she ever was in front of the camera, she chomped down hard on her lower lip, hoping the pain would distract from the worry. She knew that once she saw Matilda and had been enveloped in one of her magical hugs she could face anything. No one would dare to say a word to her in her godmother’s presence. All she had to do was get there. Because despite what the town thought of Ellie, Mat was a well-respected resident. She was almost a local dignitary, due to all the books she’d published, not to mention the fact she did so much charity work. She was held in such esteem that most overlooked her slightly wacky way of living and dressing, while others wholeheartedly embraced her quirkiness.

Sucking air into her lungs, Ellie found a car space right outside the entrance and gave herself a final pep talk.