Mango Kisses (30 page)

She went into the neat little bathroom, washed her stinging eyes, unpacked quickly, changed into shorts and tank top and walked down the hill to the pub, wrinkling her nose against the acrid smell of smoke choking the overheated air. Already she could feel her throat drying and tightening.

The two fire trucks had gone. She pushed open the door to the pub, relieved to feel the cool blast of air-conditioned air and breathed deeply to rid her lungs of charcoal. A tingle of nerves made her hesitate. The room was packed with people, all busy, all intent on their tasks, all locals. Tables had been shoved together to make a long bench down one side of the room. About ten women were preparing food. A Kylie Minogue song blared from the radio. A group of children sat at tables in the far corner playing board games. ‘Hello, Tiffany.’ Sharon’s voice. ‘We could do with an extra pair of hands.’

A sea of women’s faces looked at her as she paused in the doorway searching the crowd for Sharon. A few she recognised, many she didn’t. The roar of voices dropped.

Sharon waved a butter-covered knife and smiled from behind a mountain of bread loaves.

Tiffany stepped forward. ‘What can I do?’

‘Help me chop watermelon,’ said Fiorella. She edged along so that Tiffany had room beside her. Someone handed her a knife.

Engines roared outside. Hoarse male voices accompanied the slamming of doors and then the pub was full of large male bodies in boots and filthy yellow overalls. Sweat-stained, smoke smelling, soot blackened faces, red-eyed and exhausted, they tramped in and laid waste to the piles of sandwiches. Women scurried about with big pots of tea pouring mug after mug. Most of the men collapsed on the floor, sitting slumped against the wall to eat and drink, too tired to talk, barely able to raise a smile of thanks. Some stretched out in a quiet corner and were asleep within minutes.

Tiffany scanned the faces, recognising no-one. They were from a district further south. All day the procession of weary fire fighters continued. All day the women and children fed them, encouraged them and sent them back out. Jim came in with one crew along with Boris but they hadn’t seen Miles.

‘Is he back?’ rasped Boris. He was barely recognisable under the layer of soot but the woman wiping his face with a damp cloth knew who he was. She kissed his cheek and he raised a feeble grin for her.

‘He’s back in Australia,’ said Tiffany. ‘He left me a message at my parents’ house yesterday but he left his hotel before I could return his call. I guessed he’d come here but now I don’t know.’

‘Haven’t seen him,’ croaked Jim. ‘But he could be anywhere. He could’ve joined another crew. The fire front is thirty kilometres wide.’ He wandered away to find Sharon.

By mid-afternoon word filtered through that the wind had turned and blown the fire back on itself, the situation had eased and the visiting men were heading home. The locals were keeping the fire contained and would stay on patrol during the night.

Tiffany helped clean up the pub with the women who were able to stay on, those without children or exhausted firemen to care for at home. When the last table was back in place, the floor mopped clean and the rubbish cleared away Fiorella said, ‘I think we’ve earned ourselves a drink, ladies.’

‘On the house,’ announced Deb, in charge of Jeff’s precious pub while he was out doing his duty. She began filling glasses with cold, frothing beer for the half-dozen remaining women.

‘What a welcome to the town, eh, Tiffany?’ Fiorella flopped into a chair with a sigh of relief and kicked off her sandals. ‘My feet are swollen twice their size from standing all day.’

‘Has this happened before? The fires, I mean, not your feet.’

Fiorella grinned. ‘We had a scare year before last but the fire didn’t get going. They contained it pretty quickly and then it rained overnight. Are you having second thoughts?’ She eyed Tiffany over her glass and then swallowed half the contents in one long thirsty gulp.

‘Driving here I wondered if I’d done something really stupid, if my new house would be burned down before I’d even moved in.’ She barely smiled, didn’t have the energy for anything else.

‘You’ll be right.’ Fiorella patted her hand. ‘The town’s never been burned out and your place up on the headland would be the last to go. My house isn’t in such a good spot. But let’s not talk about that, too depressing and it’s not going to happen. Tell me about Miles.’

‘Miles?’ A surge of something akin to electricity shot through her body. Now she was energised, synapses were sparking all over the place.

‘How did he come to inherit all that money? You must know, you discovered it.’

Tiffany relaxed. Money — it always fascinated people. ‘Fiorella I can’t discuss his business with you, you know that. You have to ask him.’

‘But he’s not here.’

‘Sorry.’ Tiffany drank her beer. This was solid ground. Her pulse rate returned to normal.

‘And when he is he won’t talk, even to me,’ Fiorella complained. But he’d told Tiffany and that was a warm, secret piece of knowledge. He’d trusted her and confided in her things he hadn’t to people he knew far better.

‘He’s very bitter about...about his family, his parents. He’d have to tell you himself, Fiorella, I really can’t discuss it.’

‘I know.’ Fiorella relented. ‘I know. He changed after you left. Miles had always been laid back and satisfied with life here. He said it was where he’d always wanted to live and he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, especially a city. When he came into that money he became angry all of a sudden, restless and moody. He couldn’t wait to get away.’

Fiorella’s voice had dropped as she spoke and now she leaned forward to emphasise the implied question. ‘I wondered if it had something to do with you.’

‘With me?’ Crackles and sparking again. Temperature rising. Tiffany’s hands clammy against the chill of her beer glass.

Fiorella nodded. ‘He was very taken with you. I knew it straight away. He tried not to let on but at the kissing course...I wasn’t sure he’d come back after lunch.’

‘Why?’ She hadn’t been sure either and she’d thought it was her fault somehow. She never did figure out why.

‘Why have you come to live in Birrigai, Tiffany? Really?’

‘I was sick of the rat race in Sydney,’ she said after a moment’s hesitation. Fiorella hadn’t even attempted an answer to her question. What did she think she, and Miles in particular, had done at her course?

‘And?’

‘I wanted to be independent, work wise. My job wasn’t very satisfying.’

‘And?’

Tiffany dropped her gaze to the coaster and her empty glass. It was too much suddenly, she was too tired to continue dancing around Fiorella who was far too intuitive to fool and had a psych degree to boot. ‘He’s not here,’ she whispered. ‘I think he’s moved to live in Sydney.’

‘He’ll find you. You just sit tight,’ said Fiorella. ‘Don’t worry. Miles is very determined in his own quiet fashion and he’s a very intelligent man, he just pretends not to be.’

‘What if having all that money has changed him? It does some people, it has to.’

‘Having money won’t change the fact that he loves you.’

‘Does he?’ A little flame of hope flickered weakly in her heart. Fiorella was an expert in this area. Sort of. Plus she’d known Miles for years.

‘I have my suspicions, yes. And so do you.’ Fiorella grinned and set down her empty glass. ‘I need to go home now. Jerry should be back. He was helping co-ordinate from the field station.’ She stood up and delivered her parting shot. ‘For heaven’s sake! You two should get your act together and talk to each other. Properly.’

‘I’m trying. We have to find each other first. I don’t know where he is and he still thinks I’m in Sydney.’

‘Like I said before. Sit tight. Miles will be back. Now I really have to go and see what state Jerry’s in.’

Tiffany stood. ‘I need a shower,’ she said, stretching, ‘and sleep.’

‘There’ll be plenty of that done tonight in Birrigai. I could sleep for a week.’

They walked out together. Fiorella turned left, Tiffany turned right, her head a confused morass of thoughts. Miles wouldn’t find her if he was looking in Sydney. Miles wouldn’t think of searching for her in Birrigai. He’d stay on in the city and he’d eventually meet someone else. He was too attractive to remain unattached for long, and with his bank balance…

She clenched her fists, arms tight by her sides. She must not give up hope. If she
had
assumed correctly and he had returned to fight the bush fire he should turn up tonight or tomorrow at the latest.

Her furniture was arriving tomorrow. The company had called her to say the van would leave Sydney at five in the morning. They’d be in Birrigai by midmorning. She’d oversee the unpacking and then if Miles hadn’t come home by tomorrow night, she’d go back to Sydney to find him. No way could she do as Fiorella suggested and sit tight. Not now. Not when it looked as though they might miss each other through bad timing. He’d expect her to be at her parents’ house in Chatswood and that’s where she would be, where she had to be.

Chapter Fifteen

Miles collapsed on to his own bed in his own bedroom in his own house. The surf crashed onto the beach just beyond his front fence and the soothing sounds faded wonderfully in his ears as sleep overcame him.

Smoke still cast a pall over the bay when he woke. It dulled the sun to a red glow but didn’t prevent the heat building to oven temperature. He peered blearily out at the beach. The red orb was high in the sky. He’d slept late — not surprising after a four-hour drive and a day and half a night of fighting fires, all under the narcotic effects of jet-lag and smoke. He’d volunteered to a crew further south where the road was blocked but as soon as the road reopened he was away.

He couldn’t resist a quick splash. Who knew how long it may be before he came back? He ploughed across the sand to where the waves lapped invitingly. Burnt leaves littered the shoreline. If the beach had been in its usual sparkling condition his resolve would have seriously wavered. Miles stroked strongly towards the horizon. Past the line of breakers he turned and floated on his back. Smoke hung over the far headland and swallowed the line of mountains usually visible inland. The nearer headland on his left was clearer, picking up the breeze from out to sea.

Someone must have bought the house on the point. A big green removal truck was parked in the driveway. Those people would have got a fright yesterday, probably saved up to retire here and thought they’d lose the lot. Fortunately the wind had turned overnight and the biggest blaze had retreated onto itself and collapsed, starved of fuel.

Miles swam parallel to the beach for a few hundred metres. He turned lazily and swam back, body surfing in on a flurry of foam, ran across the familiar sand to snatch up his red towel then cut across to the shop. Closed, of course. Boris would be asleep and he’d earned it. There wouldn’t be any action in town today.

He’d call in to see him on the way out, give Jerry a call too.

Miles went home, showered off the sand, the salt and the smell of smoke then sat at his table with a cup of tea made from a stale tea bag, which was all he could find in the cupboard. Breakfast would have to wait, although as it was almost noon, it’d be lunch when he got around to eating. A pile of dreary looking mail sat before him. Every couple of days Jerry had called in to collect it and to check on the house. Miles flipped through it all and extracted the credit card bills. The numbers were multi-digit.

He’d spent far more than he’d ever thought he could in a lifetime, all in a couple of months. But he knew his weekly income and that was astronomical too, as was the total amount in his three bank accounts. He’d have to work very hard to get through it all. Miles sighed.

It wasn’t any fun. That was the trouble. Having all that money wasn’t any fun without someone to share it with and spend it on. A special someone. Not that it was a surprise, he’d always known money didn’t buy the important things. His mother had taught him that. His mother…the enigma. She’d ignored the one really important thing in his life, his father.

Miles picked up the phone. Jerry answered in a voice groggy with tiredness.

‘It’s Miles.’

‘Miles, good to hear from you. Where are you?’

‘At home. I came in late last night.’

‘Did you hear about the fires?’

‘Yes, I left Sydney as soon as I found out, saw it in the paper and drove up here night before last.’

‘It was a hell of a day yesterday.’

‘I know. I checked in with a mate further south as I came through and joined their crew to fight it west of Kandala in the national park. He said Birrigai wasn’t in any danger and they were short handed so I stayed. How are you? How’s Fiorella?’

‘I’ve just woken up, she’s still asleep. We’ve hardly exchanged two words since yesterday morning. How have you been?’

‘Pretty good. I saw the world and it’s an amazing place. Jerry, I wanted to talk to you. Is now a good time?’

‘Yes. No trouble with the shop is there?’

‘No, that’s what I wanted to talk about though. I’m thinking of selling it. I can’t see myself working there now. I want to spend more time in Sydney. I’m heading back this afternoon as a matter of fact.’

‘Hmm. I wouldn’t rush into anything, Miles. It’s certainly no trouble for me to do the bookwork. Keeps the little grey cells functioning, and I know Xanthi doesn’t mind doing the banking. I’d suggest you give it a couple more months and see how you feel then. Business has been good this season, until now.’

‘I’ll see Boris before I go. Might close for a day or two. I’ll leave it up to him.’

His decisiveness was faltering. Cutting his ties with Birrigai would be very hard, harder than he’d thought now he was home again. It wouldn’t take much to make him change his mind.

Jerry said, ‘You do what you must, Miles, but don’t make decisions in a hurry based on that sudden influx of money. It’s no substitute for a happy life and healthy lifestyle. I know that for a fact. I’ve got an ulcer to prove it. Put a manager in the place if it makes you feel better. I’m sure you’d find someone fairly easily. Just remember why you set up the shop in the first place.’