Page 27 of Secrets of Riverside

‘Oh, yeah, Tommy mentioned a studio room had become available.’ He felt saddened by the fact that he was going to return home to an empty house. Millie had somehow made it feel so full. ‘You don’t have to move over there right now, I mean, seeing as it was your first day, surely you’d be knackered.’ He wondered if he sounded a little desperate for her to stay, so he shrugged as though it was no big deal. ‘Feel free to camp out another night at the homestead, if it helps.’

‘Thanks, Jarrah, but given the fact I’m staff, and Tommy’s on the warpath, I reckon it’s best if I make myself at home in my new abode.’

‘Righto.’ He swallowed down his disappointment. ‘I better let you get moving, then, and I better get back to it before I run out of daylight.’ He held up the empty glass. ‘Thanks again for the tasty drink.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She took it from his hand. ‘I’ll catch you tomorrow.’

‘You will.’ He tipped his hat. ‘And I’ll be sure to give the mechanic a call first thing, see if he can look at your Jimny first up.’

‘Thank you, and thanks for towing it in there too. Let’s just hope he can fix it easily.’ She turned and sashayed away.

Jarrah couldn’t help but watch Millie until she disappeared around the corner of the machinery shed. Then he worked until the sun had faded to a golden-orange glow as it slipped behind the mountain ranges. Shrugging his shirt back on, he dumped his tools into the tray of his LandCruiser, gestured for Scruff to jump in the passenger side, climbed behind the steering wheel, and after revving the engine to life, turned the air-conditioning to high. Leaning forwards, he enjoyed the blast of icy air for a few moments before straightening and turning the four-wheel drive back towards where Millie no longer was. And the very thought made his already downtrodden heart sink deeper.

CHAPTER

9

The sound of a car revving its engine just outside her motel room woke Millie. Momentarily confused about where she was, whether it was night or day, today or tomorrow, she sat up, turned her lamp on, rubbed her eyes to life and surveyed her surroundings. The flickering of the television caught her attention, as did the room she’d called home for three days now. A pizza box lay open on the little two-seater dining table beside the kitchenette, with half its contents gone, and beside it sat a half-empty, or half-full, depending on how she looked at it, hipflask of vodka. She really needed to stop trying to drink her loneliness away. It was going to do her no favours. A drunken conversation at midnight with Ebony had hammered that nail on the head.

She flopped backwards and stared at the ceiling, hoping she had the luxury of a few more hours where she could hopefully catch some decent sleep before she had to head to work. Groaning at the sudden onslaught of a hangover-infused headache, and the realisation that she was still in yesterday’s clothes, she rolled onto her side and looked to where the glint of sunlight peeked beneath the curtains. Oh crap, what time was it? Grabbing her mobile and igniting the screen to glowing life, she noted the time, and the few text messages from Ebony, then shot to her feet and ran for the bathroom. She was going to be late. Not a good look on what was only her fourth day. Her self-induced tardiness reverberated through her weary mind as she angrily stripped off, dived beneath the shower while brushing her teeth, half-dried, tugged on some fresh clothes, dragged her hair into a ponytail at her nape, then raced towards the roadhouse. Chillaxing right in the middle of the walkway, Scruff eyed her as she leapt over the top of him.

‘Morning, buddy.’ She didn’t have the time to give him his usual pat.

His short sharp bark of good morning echoed behind her.

Skidding into the kitchen, twenty minutes late, she quickly grabbed her apron and tugged it on. ‘Hey,’ she said in passing. ‘Sorry but I must have slept through my alarm.’ She wasn’t about to admit she’d likely faceplanted the bed at some ungodly hour, too drunk to set it.

Tommy made a scoffing noise. ‘Yeah, about that.’ He turned and scowled at her. ‘That’s one strike against your name.’ He shook his head scornfully. ‘Two more and I’ll have good reason to fire you.’

Blinking back the haze of rage his intimidation caused, she stole a moment to steady her voice before responding. ‘I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.’

‘You do that, otherwise you might find yourself out of a job.’ His tone was icy sharp. ‘And Jarrah won’t have a leg to stand on if he tries to overturn my decision, because it’s his own bloody rule that there’ll be no consorting between staff, and also being late is not acceptable.’

She was so gobsmacked by his assertive authority that she found herself lost for anything to say. And here she’d thought, with so much fantastic feedback from the customers, that she’d proven herself as the cook. Before today, she’d been almost half an hour early to every shift, and she’d even stayed late, without asking for anything extra, to make sure the kitchen was sparkling clean and the menu for the next day was well and truly ready to go. Tommy was an outright spoilt brat. Actually, no, he was an outright arsehole. Her nails dug into the fleshy part of her palm and she welcomed the pain while she fought to remain composed. One breath, two breaths, three … By the time she’d gathered herself enough to speak respectfully and calmly, he’d vanished out the door. So she did her best to shake off the feeling of dread as she endeavoured to turn her wholehearted attention to her love of food. But try as she might, her mind wasn’t having it as ominous thoughts whirled through her head. If her instincts were right, and Tommy was the one who’d sent her the letter and photo, what was he planning? Why had he brought her here, only to treat her like this? Was it to seek revenge, for something she knew nothing of? Was he going to hurt her, or worse?

Her vision blurred and she blinked faster. Placing the knife in her hand down, she grabbed hold of the bench. She felt so torn between wanting to get the hell out of this place and staying put to hopefully discover whatever it was that she’d come here to find out. Feeling light-headed, then as if the walls were closing in on her, she knew she needed to get some fresh air. She hurried towards the back screen door and it slapped shut behind her as she rushed through it. Outside, she gripped the railings in both hands, breathing in deeply. The suffocating feeling gradually subsided, and once it did, she straightened, reminded herself she had to push through this, and then went back inside.

Hours later, breakfast had come and gone, the roadhouse was packed with lunchgoers, Tommy was nowhere to be seen, and Penny and Jenny were run off their feet, as was she.

Taking steps to deliver the order that had been sitting a little longer than she would have liked, Millie reminded herself over and over to breathe as she scooted out of the kitchen and towards a table. ‘You got this,’ she muttered to herself as she passed two huge plates of cottage pie and fresh steamed veggies over to the two equally hefty truck drivers that she’d met with Jarrah on her first day there.

‘Thanks, Millie, this looks bloody delicious,’ Mack said with a wide smile.

‘Damn straight it does, much better than the last cook’s muck,’ Graham added.

She accepted their compliments with a smile. ‘Thanks, guys, enjoy, won’t you.’ She liked the way they remembered her name.

His knife and fork at the ready, Mack grinned. ‘Oh, trust me, I most certainly will.’

Heading back into the kitchen, with no more orders left to fill, she cleaned up and then got to work on the sweet treats for the next day – always a day ahead of herself when it came to the dessert fridge, she valued this precious time when she could focus on baking. Whipping cream into oblivion, by hand, she did her best to try and push aside her unsettling morning. The scent of the pumpkin scones baking in the oven wafted, taking her back to happier times, when she would spend precious time with her mother and Ebony in the kitchen – scones had always been Ebony’s favourites. She drew in a few deep inhalations, making sure to slowly sigh each one away with the thought that her exhaled breath was taking some of her stress with it. She was so lost in her mediative breathing that the chime of her phone from her back pocket made her jump so high she almost hit the roof.

‘Ebs, oh my goodness, I was just thinking about you.’ Securing her phone between her shoulder and ear, she cracked an egg, separating the white from the yolk.

‘Hey, hon, are you handling what I’d expect to be a bit of a hangover?’

‘Yes, I am, while feeling a little sorry for myself.’ She huffed at herself. ‘I’m so sorry I called you when I was drunk.’

‘Like I always tell you, I’m here any time, no matter what state you’re in.’ Ebony sighed. ‘I’m worried about you, lovely, I just wish you’d take better care of yourself.’

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