Page 8 of Outback Reunion

In all his life, he never recalled a circus coming to Bunyip Bay, but if it was going to happen, summer was the time, when the town’s population grew threefold. Not that he’d be going. He couldn’t think of anything worse, unless you had kids to take.

That thought felt like another kick to his heart.

He’d forgotten that this time of year it was almost impossible to get a parking spot near any of the shops or Frankie’s café. As he drove past the latter towards the IGA, a whiff of coffee drifted in through his open window, mingling with the salty sea air and he had a sudden craving. Caffeine was just another thing he missed about Melbourne, although he had to admit the food and drink at Frankie’s wasn’t bad for a small country town.

Miraculously, an old, lime green kombi van, covered in graffiti art and faded bumper stickers, pulled out of the perfect space, so he nabbed the spot right between Frankie’s and the IGA.Nice. At least one thing was going right in his life.

‘Be good. I’ll be back soon,’ he told Rookie, opening the windows just enough that she could breathe but not climb out.

‘Mark!’ someone called as he walked towards the café.

He glanced up to see one of his old mates, Ryan Forrester and his husband Grant, sitting at an outside table eating a late breakfast. Growing up, Ryan and his sister Faith had been the closest thing Mark had to siblings. Their mums had been good friends and when Ryan’s mum died and their dad, Frank, had really struggled with grief and managing the farm, Mark’s mum had taken the Forrester kids under her wing. They’d spent a lot of time at each other’s houses.

‘Hi, guys,’ he said, lifting a hand.

Ryan gestured to the vacant seat at their table. ‘Would you like to join us? Haven’t seen you around much since post-harvest drinks at The Palace.’

Mark forced a smile. ‘Been busy with Mum and Dad away. You guys have a good Christmas?’

‘Yes,’ answered Grant, putting down his coffee mug. ‘It was magic. Gotta love school holidays.’

He was a high school teacher in Geraldton.

‘Speaking of magic,’ he continued, ‘have you met Sam, the new plumber? She’s really lovely and doesn’t know many people yet so I was thinking maybe you could ask her out for a drink or something?’

Oh God. It had happened. Since moving to Bunyip Bay to be with Ryan, Grant had become the town’s unofficial matchmaker, and he was finally turning his infamous matchmaking skills on Mark.

He should never have stopped for coffee.

‘Or, if Sam’s not your type, I know a couple of hot, single teachers who’d love to meet you.’

Mark shook his head. ‘Thanks, mate, but...’

How could he politely tell Grant to mind his own bloody business? Hot or not, he still wasn’t recovered from his split with Tahlia and even though she’d moved on, he wasn’t ready to risk his heart with someone else. Not yet; maybe not ever.

The only woman he wanted in his life right now was Rookie.

‘I’m not interested,’ he said firmly. ‘You guys have a good breakfast.’

Then before either of them could object, he continued into the café to be greeted by none other than local gossip, Eileen Brady. He expected her to ask after his parents but instead she flapped an A5 flyer in his face.

‘Have you seen this, Mark?’

He blinked and stepped back a little. That was another good thing about Melbourne—you didn’t encounter people you knew every five seconds. He’d run into Eileen outside the post office not long after he’d returned to the Bay, and she’d insisted on taking a selfie with him to put on her Instagram.

It was a terrifying world when the likes of Eileen Brady were online.

Thankfully, he hadn’t seen the photo because he’d deleted Insta and Facebook. The last thing he wanted to see when he was mindlessly scrolling late at night was his influencer ex sharing happy snaps with her new boyfriend, who also happened to be his ex-teammate, alongside #blessed and #lovemylife.

‘I can’t believe Phil signed off on a circus in Bunyip Bay.’ Eileen was practically spitting in his face now. ‘What next? A brothel next to the Ag Store?’

Mark seriously doubted Phil McDonald, the shire president, would ever condone sex workers in his family-friendly town. He ran a hand through his hair and looked longingly at the counter—all he wanted was a bloody coffee. ‘What have you got against circuses?’

‘Quite aside from the fact they abuse wild animals—’

‘Pretty sure they’re not allowed to have wild animals anymore,’ Mark interrupted, but Eileen wasn’t listening.

‘And those ghastly blow-up clowns littering the streets; the last thing we need is a bunch of gypsies in our community. I hope Sergeant Noble is ready because the crime rate is sure to skyrocket.’

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