Page 1 of His Best Friend's Baby

Chapter One

Going back toWirralong after fourteen years was never meant to be a sentimental journey. Polly Martin was entirely focused on her mission. She’d assessed her scheme from every angle and her strategy was precisely planned. Already, she had messaged Seth Ramsay to arrange a meeting time, and as soon as she reached Wirralong’s outskirts she would send him another text to confirm.

Once Polly met with Seth, she would pose pertinent questions to check that her research was correct and then she would cut straight to the chase. She would explain exactly what she needed from him and the encounter would be as businesslike as possible. No messy emotions.

Seth would understand. His easygoing nature was one of the main reasons Polly had chosen him.

And now, as her VW Golf hummed along the bitumen road that wound through gum tree–studded hills, offering occasional glimpses of distant plains, Polly was confident and relaxed. She’d been living in Melbourne for over a decade, enjoying a vibrant, fast-paced, city lifestyle, and she had no room for nostalgia about returning to the small, sleepy, country town where she’d spent her high-school years.

Until she was confronted by an unexpectedly familiar vista.

Wham. Polly had totally forgotten how that view suddenly appeared after the final bend. But there it was—without warning—the plains spreading beneath her and, settled in their midst, Wirralong, its iron rooftops shimmering in the afternoon sun.

Even from this distance, Polly could pinpoint landmarks she’d almost forgotten. She could see the high school and the sporting fields, the old-fashioned two-storey timber pub, the main street running straight down the town’s centre. Then, stretching on either side from this, straight rows of streets with simple country cottages. An entire little town was nestled down there, surrounded by sprawling paddocks that stretched forever to the far blue hills.

In fourteen years, the scene had barely changed. Which was perhaps why a lump formed in Polly’s throat, swelling quickly to uncomfortable brick-like proportions. A beat later, her vision grew blurry, which was crazy.

Grabbing the first chance to pull off the road, Polly skidded to a reckless halt, her car’s tyres sending up clouds of dust. Right. Okay. Time to get a grip. Fast.

Except that Polly could still see that view of Wirralong, now made slightly misty by her tears and prettily framed by speckled trunks and the drooping, khaki leaves of gum trees. And she was remembering. So much.

It was as if the lid she’d kept on her Wirralong memories had suddenly sprung open like a jack-in-the-box. She was remembering the little white house behind the hedge, where she and her dad had lived so happily—just the two of them. The Commonwealth Bank in the main street where her dad had been the manager. And Seth’s parents’ service station on the corner, where she and her good mate had spent so much time after school.

Barely remembered scents and tastes filled her senses now as well. The smell of petrol from the many fuel tanks that she and Seth had filled, the tongue-tingling raspberry ripple ice cream, served by Seth’s mum on hot summer afternoons. Chlorine in the local swimming pool, the sweet scent of newly harvested hay, the aroma of chops grilling on her dad’s backyard barbecue.

So what? she asked herself angrily.

Anyone would think she’d spent the past fourteen years hankering for the uncomplicated simplicity of those days. Which she hadn’t. And, okay, the memories might have come flooding back now, but there was no need to get sentimental.

Polly kept a sensible supply of tissues in her glove box and she hauled out a handful, lifted her specs, and swiped at her eyes. She also checked on her reflection in the rear-vision mirror, glad she hadn’t bothered with mascara. With the tears sorted, she helped herself to a few restorative sips from her water bottle. In a minute or two she’d be over that crazy ‘moment’ and more or less back to normal.

Hopefully, she’d be totally composed and calm now, when she finally arrived in Wirralong. And came face to face with Seth.

Thinking of Seth Ramsay—actually, Polly had been thinking of little else during the journey, or for the past few weeks, if she was honest—she picked up her phone.

She was dead nervous about the massive request she planned to put to her old schoolmate. But now was as good a time as any to text him and let him know she’d arrived and would be on time for their meeting this evening.

When Seth had agreed to meet her, he’d suggested they do so over dinner at a restaurant Polly had never heard of. She’d checked it out on the internet and it looked rather swanky for a little bush town. She’d worried that their meeting would feel too much like a date.

No way was this a date. Polly was determined to keep their conversation as businesslike as possible, and she would insist on paying for Seth’s meal. After all, if everything went well tonight, he’d be doing her a huge favour in the very near future.

*

When the pingof a private text message sounded on Seth’s phone, he was on his back, lying on a trolley under a jacked-up SUV. He was focused on the vehicle’s innards, changing the oil after replacing the filter and although he guessed the caller might be Polly, he kept on with the task at hand. There was no rush. He would answer when this job was done.

Of course, Seth couldn’t help being intrigued by Polly’s sudden return to Wirralong. He had no idea why she’d be coming back after all this time, and he had to wonder why she had been asking questions about his relationship status—he’d heard as much from LeeAnne, who ran the store attached to his garage.

But why would Polly give two hoots about his current love life, said love life being just fine, as far as Seth was concerned? He and Polly had only ever been schoolmates. The best of mates during those years, admittedly, but Polly had never been his girlfriend.

Back in their high-school days, Polly’s father had been manager of the Commonwealth Bank, which was just a few doors away from the service station and garage that Seth’s parents owned. At the end of the school day, when most of the kids from Wirralong High caught the buses home to their farms in the surrounding districts, Seth and Polly had been ‘townies’, staying behind.

Most afternoons they’d hung out together after school, serving petrol, washing windscreens, or doing their homework in the flat at the back of the Ramsay’s store.

But despite all the time they’d spent together, Seth had barely made a move on Polly. Sure he’d thought about it plenty—but Polly had warned him quite decisively not to get romantic.

‘Don’t spoil it,’ she’d implored him that one time after the senior formal, when they’d found themselves alone and had both gone a little wild. All night they’d been dancing together, touching, smiling, flirting. Polly had worn a beautiful silvery dress that clung to her and had driven Seth several versions of crazy. In the darkness he’d kissed her, had slipped a silver shoestring strap from her shoulder, and he’d come so close to losing control.

Even now, he could remember the disquieting emotion in Polly’s bright blue eyes—he’d never been sure if it was fear or disgust he’d seen in the moonlight—but it had certainly stopped him in his tracks.

---