Page 5 of Wedding Bells By the Creek

‘Oh, just something small will do. A sandwich even …’

‘Not in my bar,’ Trish called as she appeared through a door at the end of the room. ‘People eat proper meals under my roof. How are you, dear, settling in all right? Good. Hello, Ed. I hope that boy of yours is doing well over there in England. Such a long way away. I bet you miss him. And young Katie too. She’s a nice girl. Smart too. I think she’ll be a wonderful doctor.’

Ed watched Helen’s eyes widen with something close to panic as Cyclone Trish took her usual position behind the bar. The publican’s wife could be more than a little overwhelming when you didn’t know her. Helen would soon realise that she was all bluster with a heart of gold, and didn’t really expect anyone to answer her questions. He winked at Helen, and was rewarded by the smallest hint of a smile.

‘Tonight we have lasagne,’ Trish said. ‘And garlic bread. I don’t usually hold with foreign food, but lasagne isn’t really foreign, is it? Or do you want a steak as usual, Ed? I know the big city doctors say too much red meat is bad for you, but what do they know about life out here? A man needs a good meal after a hard day’s work.’

‘Steak sounds good, thanks,’ Ed replied.

‘And what do you want, dear? We also have lamb chops. Or maybe I could do you some salad with the lasagne, if you like. Nothing fancy though. It’s a bit hard to get fresh salad stuff all the way out here, and lettuce doesn’t do well if it’s frozen.’

‘Umm. How much is the lasagne?’

‘Don’t you worry about that, dear. It’s all going on Max’s tab. The least he can do is buy you dinner. Lasagne it is then. And what do you want to drink? Most of our customers drink beer. Or Bundy rum. But we do have wine, if you prefer.’

‘Just a Coke, thanks.’

‘Right. I’ll be back soon with the meals.’ Trish bustled away again.

Ed leaned slightly towards Helen. ‘Don’t mind Trish,’ he said in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘She’s good people really. The best. She just talks a bit.’

He was again rewarded with the ghost of a smile, and this time it almost reached those remarkable deep blue eyes.

Ed found himself smiling back. His heart did something it hadn’t done in a very, very long time. It gave a little flutter in his chest. It suddenly became very important to see if that ghost of a smile might become the real thing. If he could be the one to make Helen smile, that would be even better.

His mind raced, trying to think of something he could say. Something that she would think was funny. Or clever. Or…

‘So what do you think of our town?’ As the words came out of his mouth he knew it was a stupid question, but it was the best he could do. He’d been alone too long. Small talk just was not his thing.

‘I haven’t really seen any of it,’ Helen replied. ‘Max brought me straight here from the station.’

Ed could have kicked himself. He hadn’t been on a date for … well, for much longer than he cared to think. For a long time he’d preferred to be alone. And if he’d been feeling lonely lately, Coorah Creek didn’t exactly abound with eligible women. And when you worked seven days a week … Still, it was embarrassing. Here he was, a grown man – a middle-aged man if he was to be perfectly honest – acting like he was some tongue-tied teenager. It was those eyes of hers. When she looked at him he had trouble breathing, let alone stringing words together into a coherent sentence.

‘Well, if you like, I could show you around after diner,’ he said. ‘It’s a small town. We could see most of it in a ten-minute walk. There will still be plenty of twilight left.’

Her eyes changed. A shadow fell over them. She didn’t move, but he could sense her drawing away from him.

‘Here’s the lasagne, dear.’ Trish appeared, carrying a plate liberally heaped with food. ‘Ed, your steak’ll only be a couple of minutes.’

‘I … I think I’ll eat in the lounge. At a table …’ Helen got to her feet and picked up her glass of Coke. ‘Nice to meet you, Mister … Ed.’ She nodded and almost ran through the door into the lounge.

Ed was a little stunned. Trish gave him an accusing look as she followed Helen, still carrying the plate of food.

What had he done? Ed was more than willing to admit that he wasn’t Mister Smooth. But his offer was meant as a gesture of friendliness. It shouldn’t have caused Helen to run away. It was a very long time since he’d had much to do with a woman, but he was sure he hadn’t done anything wrong. Or threatening.

He reached for his beer and stared down into the golden liquid.

Anyway, it was probably for the best, given his situation. His mind went back to the brown envelope sitting on his desk. It was time. Well past time. He’d eat his steak and then read that letter. Whatever it contained, good or bad, couldn’t be worse than all these years of not knowing.

Chapter Three

Helen watched the ceiling fan turn slowly. It barely moved the air in her room, but it did give the illusion of some respite from the heat. This room on the upper floor of the pub was lovely. Big and airy and very quiet, despite being directly above the bar. In fact, it was much quieter than her own tiny flat back in Brisbane. She couldn’t afford a lot of rent, so her flat was close to the main road. There was always traffic noise or occasionally the sound of voices as people walked home late at night. She should have slept like a log in this big comfortable bed with its four fat pillows and crisp white sheets. Particularly given her exhaustion after her journey.

But she had slept badly.

Disappointment lay heavily on her heart. She had dreamed of this reunion every day for the past ten years. She’d tried to picture what she would say. How it would feel to hold her daughter in her arms again. And it hadn’t happened. Felicity – Tia she called herself now – had been too busy at work to spare any time for her mother. Her daughter must hate her more than she had ever imagined.

Helen swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the photograph on the bedside table. Carefully she straightened the curling edges. Felicity had been such a beautiful child, with her startling green eyes and that mass of curly auburn hair. This photo was of a teenager, a young woman really. It had been taken just a few weeks before Felicity vanished. She wasn’t smiling. Helen remembered that she hadn’t wanted her photo taken, but Helen had taken it anyway. Just to use up the last shot on a roll of film. Strangely enough, it was the last roll of film Helen had ever used. Everything was digital now, of course. People taking photos on their phones. Not Helen though. She worked in a shelter. The troubled teens and runaways who came to her didn’t want to be photographed. Sometimes battered women came to her for help and it was important to protect their identities. Outside of her work there was no one she cared enough about to want to take photos of. But now, there was nothing she would enjoy more than filling her phone with photographs of her daughter.

---