Page 16 of Wings Above the Mallee

‘Not what I’m saying at all. What Iamsaying is that Charlee needs to heal emotionally before she has any chance of stepping away from addiction. Hell, Heath, you’ve already lived this. You know it. I sure as heck know it.’ Sean struck his own chest with a balled-up fist. ‘Drugs, alcohol, porn, chocolate: whatever the addiction is, it fills a hole. It numbs everything. Makes life bearable for a little while. Without the anaesthetic, life is a raw nerve.’

Heath had to ignore the pain in his father’s voice, pretend he didn’t know the demons Sean hid behind a determinedly cheery façade, because if they compared, shared, then the demons would breed. Revelling in their exposure, the fears of the night would be born into the day and any politepretence of normality would be stripped. So the demons had to stay trapped inside. For years, Dad had kept his sedated with alcohol, but now it was the sheer will it took him to get through each day without turning to the bottle that subjugated them. Heath’s demons were different, though. He deliberately held them inside, fed them with memories and guilt, kept them alive so they could torture him.

‘All I know is that this clown isn’t helping Charlee. Look at him.’ Heath turned back to the open doorway but lowered his voice as he realised a couple of middle-aged women were making their way along the cement path that led between the scoria-covered garden beds at the front of the council chambers. ‘Acting like he’s a damn kid.’

‘Then perhaps that’s what Charlee needs. To remind her that she’s supposed to be a kid, not have the weight of the world on her shoulders,’ Sean said, before turning his best flirt on the approaching women. ‘Top of the day to you, ladies. But I confess I’m a little concerned that we’re lost: surely such attractive company means we can’t possibly be in the right place for our meeting?’

If he’d had a hat, Sean would have swept it off and bowed, Heath thought. Predictably, the women giggled. He recognised one as the cashier from the local supermarket, the other as the woman who worked in the local cafe. On the few occasions he’d been past, Heath had been fascinated by the contrast of her apparent severity with the cheery demeanour of the owner, Sam. He wondered why on earth Sam would employ such a sour woman; it seemed unlikely there’d be a shortage of unskilled workers in a town with so few businesses.

Both women carried Tupperware containers, and Heath had a sinking feeling that he and Sean were walking in on a bring-a-plate-to-share deal. Which meant bonhomie,greet-your-fellow-man, well-hailed-neighbour rubbish to be got through before he could escape.

‘Heath, you’ve met Lynn.’ Sean gestured at the comfortable woman with hair outrageously coloured in chunks of purple and pink. ‘I’m not sure about our lovely Chrissie, though?’

‘Christine.’ Despite the whip-crack correction, the stern woman’s face splintered in a shark-like smile, and Heath realised even she was taken in by Sean’s blatant flattery.

He nodded in greeting, but his gaze travelled beyond the two women. More people were headed toward the old building, in couples and singly, and he wanted to get inside before any of them associated him with Charlee, who was now leaning against the side of the building, arms crossed, observing them with a hostile glare.

A clatter further up the street drew his eye, and Ethan hove into view, toeing his board so it barrel-rolled as he somehow elevated from it, then landed smoothly again on the deck. An admiring crowd of teens loitered against the dusty window of an empty building across the road. They cheered as Ethan landed a couple more tricks. One of them dropped a board to the cement, trying to emulate Ethan’s jump. Ethan doubled back to the group and fist-bumped one of the kids, then demonstrated the trick again, correcting the pimple-faced youth’s stance. He high-fived the kid, then stepped back onto his board, irresponsibly zigzagging across the road with no thought for the traffic. Not that there was any.

As he glided closer, Ethan kicked the board so it flipped into his hand. His gaze quickly ranged the group amassed in front of the council office before finding Charlee. A smile softened the gaunt contours of his face. Board under his arm, he moved toward her and spoke quietly.

Heath frowned as his daughter’s arms uncrossed. She leaned in to Ethan, the scowl disappearing from her face. The guy spoke again, tilting his head toward the door, and Charlee giggled, the joyous sound tolling like church bells in Heath’s head. For a few seconds she was the old Charlee: unguarded, vivacious. Alive.

‘Will you look at that,’ Sean said a little too smugly.

Heath turned on his heel and stalked into the offices. It couldn’t be that easy. It couldn’t be some other guy who rescued his daughter. That was his job. Sophie had charged him with it.

His stride broke as he entered the relative darkness of the hallway. Multiple rooms opened off either side of the corridor, a veritable warren. The labelling on the doors ranged from an old campaign poster on the MP’s office to a brass plate on the solicitor’s. He almost missed that one, though, because seated at a desk beyond the open door was Amelia. Crazy animal hoarder extraordinaire.

He forced a smile and headed toward her. He was accustomed to fronting up in meetings—though he thought the requirement had died, along with Sophie, two years ago—but he’d rather have sat this one out, staring at his phone in the back of the room. He’d cocked that option up by rushing in ahead of the influx.

Before he’d managed to get out a greeting, an elegant woman darted out from a side room. She regarded him keenly for a moment in a manner that would have been offensive and inappropriate had their genders been reversed. Then she allowed what could have been a glimmer of a smile. ‘You’re here for the Regional Action Group meeting?’

At his nod, she pointed. ‘You’ll find the conference room at the end of the hall. I’m the office manager. Faelie,’ she added with a knowing look, like she’d caught him about toask for her details. He hadn’t been. ‘Amelia, you can run some water jugs down and put the urn on.’

Heath gave the manager a tight smile. ‘Thank you, but I was stopping by to speak with my friend first. Amelia.’ He nodded, faking a burst of camaraderie. Then, predictably, he couldn’t think of anything to add. It wasn’t like he knew anything about the woman. Or cared. It was simply that decades of office politics, backstabbing and sniping had left him with a low tolerance for abuse of power, and Faelie had immediately got him offside. Which had put him—awkwardly, it turned out—squarely on Amelia’s side. ‘How is our joint charge getting on?’

Amelia flinched, as though the lamb was something he shouldn’t have brought up. Trust him to put his bloody great size eleven in it.

‘Didn’t make it through, then? Dad says the Dorpers are hard to bottle rear.’

‘The local vet warned me that all lambs are a bit dicey,’ Amelia said, bending to reach beneath her ancient timber desk. She pulled out an animal crate that must have been crowding her knees despite the vastness of the desk. ‘But here’s Karmaa. He seems to be doing just fine, though I’m sure he’ll be happier after today, when I can devote more time to him.’

Heath couldn’t quite interpret the look she shot at Faelie, but it seemed to contain a challenge.

Faelie huffed. ‘As I said, if you want to continue here, you’ll have to sort something out. We can’t have that animal in the office.’

Amelia shrugged, then very deliberately unlatched the crate and took the small black and white lamb out, settling it on her lap. ‘That’s fine. Although, you did say that you expect me to serve out my notice, but I believe that’s contractually incorrect, given that I’m a temp.’

Faelie looked flustered. ‘I’m sure that’s not exactly what I said.’

‘That’s definitely how I understood your inference.’

The interaction between the women intrigued Heath and he couldn’t miss the determined set to Amelia’s jaw, the same expression she’d had when she demanded he hand the lamb over. It was clear that she intended to give her boss no wiggle room. Perhaps there was a little more substance to the woman than the run-of-the-mill animal hoarder he’d judged her to be?

Faelie stood back, indicating the hallway. ‘We’ll talk about this tomorrow, Amelia. The community room is through here …?’ Her fishing for his name was obvious enough to be ignored.

With the lamb curled on her lap like a large cat, Amelia’s eyes sparkled with triumph. Before he’d had a chance to consider the ramifications, Heath returned her contagious grin.

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