Page 22 of Best Laid Plans

Will smiled into his glass, took a swig, then set it down.

‘I imagine your parents would like you to take up farming,’ she suggested.

‘They’ve never mentioned it.’ He sighed. ‘They’re actually talking about selling up.’

‘Really?’ Lucy stared at him, horrified.

‘My mother’s been bitten by the travel bug.’

‘She must have caught it from you.’

Will smiled crookedly. ‘Perhaps.’

‘But your family’s been farming Tambaroora for five generations.’

‘And now they’ve come to the end of the line,’ Will said dryly.

Nervous now, Lucy chewed at her lower lip. Already they were treading on sensitive ground. Everyone in the district had always known that Will’s older brother, Josh, was expected to take over the family farm.

Josh’s death had changed everything.

She closed her eyes, as if to brace herself for the slam of pain that she always felt when she thought about that time.

‘We’ve never talked about it, Lucy.’

She didn’t have to ask what Will meant. The fact that they had never really talked since Josh’s death had been like an unhealed wound inside her. ‘There wasn’t any chance to talk,’ she said defensively. ‘You went away straight after the funeral.’

‘There were lots of good reasons for me not to stay. Your father didn’t help.’

‘My father?’

‘After Josh’s funeral, I tried to phone. I turned up on your doorstep, but your father wouldn’t let me near you.’

Lucy stared at Will, stunned. ‘I didn’t know that.’ Her eyes stung and she blinked back tears. If she’d known Will had called, what would she have done? What might have been different?

Will’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘Your father was probably right to protect you. I – I can’t imagine that I would have been much help at the time.’

Lucy swallowed to ease the aching lump in her throat. She’d been in a terrible state she’d been after the funeral and the miscarriage. The really awful thing was that everyone thought she was grieving, and she was, of course, but a huge part of her distress had been caused by her overpowering feelings of guilt. ‘Did you know... about the baby?’

‘Gina told me at the time,’ Will said quietly. And then, after a beat, ‘I’m really sorry, Lucy.’

He sounded almost too apologetic, as if somehow he felt responsible. But that didn’t make sense.

Lucy willed her hand to stop trembling as she held out the plate to him and he made a selection. For some time, they sat in silence, nibbling walnuts in the silvered half-light, and then Will changed the subject.

‘You’ve done so well here,’ he said. ‘I’m hearing from everyone that you’re a fabulous vet.’

‘I love my job.’

Will nodded, then he asked, carefully, ‘So you’re happy, Lucy?’

From force of habit, a lie leapt to her lips. ‘Of course.’ She reached down and patted Harry’s silky black and white head. ‘I’m perfectly happy. I love this district. I love my work.’

‘But is it enough?’

Oh, help. Lucy covered her dismay with a snappy reply. ‘What kind of question is that?’

‘An important one.’

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