Page 7 of Just the Beginning

‘I understood what you meant.’

Anya nodded. ‘Well, I’d better not keep you.’

Rick tried not to wince at the obvious dismissal. ‘No, no, of course.’ Realising he was blocking the entrance to the café, he stepped aside and pushed the door open for her. ‘It was good to see you again.’

‘You too.’ Anya stepped past him and then turned back. ‘Give my best to your uncle Davy when you see him, and I hope he’s okay. He never minded when we used to run into the hotel and steal lollies from that jar on reception.’

He was suddenly ten years old, watching a triumphant Harry running out of the hotel with a fistful of lollies Ed had double-dared him to grab. Their great-uncle would grumble to their mum about them being ill-mannered brats but never turned up at the house without some treat or other for them. ‘The jar’s still there. If you pop in sometime he’ll still let you help yourself to one.’

‘I might just do that.’

‘And don’t worry about him. I’m sure it’s nothing, probably just Maud up to her usual tricks.’

This time when Anya smiled there was no sign of any stress or tension in her face. ‘Looks like some things in Halfmoon Quay never change.’

5

Rick spun his way through the revolving door entrance of the hotel a few minutes later to find the reception empty. The door to the little office behind the wide wooden desk was open, so he headed towards it. The jar of lollies was in its usual place on the reception desk, just as he’d told Anya it would be. With a grin, he helped himself to his favourite strawberries and cream flavour, unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. The sweet stickiness brought dozens of memories flooding back, mostly of him fighting with his brothers over penny sweets and cheap plastic toys. He might be the second born, but he’d always been the tallest and had won more than his fair share of those silly scraps. On a whim, he reached back into the jar and pulled out three more lollies. He stared down at his palm for a moment before dropping one of them back in the jar. Even after all these years of Liam living away, he’d never got used to it. He slipped the other two treats into his pocket and called out his uncle’s name as he circled around the desk towards the office.

Davy was in the office as expected. What he hadn’t expected was the blood all over the front of his uncle’s shirt, or theequally stained towel Davy was pressing to his head. ‘My God, what happened?’ Rick rushed around the desk.

‘Don’t start fussing,’ Uncle Davy growled, fending him off with his free hand as Rick tried to lift the towel and take a look at the source of the blood. ‘It’s just a scratch.’

‘Just a scratch? You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.’ Rick dodged his uncle’s flailing hand and reached for the towel again. ‘Stop it! Let me look, for goodness’ sake, Davy.’

His uncle grumbled again, but this time he let Rick lift the edge of the towel. He winced at the sight of the ugly gash and quickly pressed the towel back down as fresh blood oozed from the wound. He placed his other hand on the back of Davy’s head so he could apply proper pressure without pushing his uncle off balance. ‘That looks really nasty. I think you’re going to need a couple of stitches.’

‘It’ll be fine in a minute. You know what head wounds are like.’

Rick couldn’t say that he did. ‘I haven’t got my car with me as I walked to the Hub this morning, but let me give Ed a call and see if he’s around to give us a lift up to the doctor’s.’

‘No!’ Davy jerked his head back so hard, Rick lost grip of the towel and it fell to the floor. He bent to pick it up, refolding it to find a clean spot before reaching for his uncle again. Davy snatched the towel from his hands and pressed it back against his forehead. ‘I told you I was fine. Stop fussing.’

Although notoriously stubborn, it wasn’t like Davy to be so belligerent. Wondering if he’d knocked his head when he cut it, Rick crouched down beside him and spoke to him in a soft voice. ‘How did it happen?’

‘I went to make myself a cup of tea and dropped the spoon on the floor. When I stood up I walloped my head on the edge of an open cupboard door.’

‘How’s your head apart from the cut? Do you have a headache? Is your vision okay?’

Davy rolled his eyes, then winced. ‘Of course I’ve got a bloody headache; did you miss the bit where I whacked my head on the cupboard? And my vision is rubbish, but that’s because I’m still waiting for my cataract to be sorted out. Any other questions, smart arse?’

Blowing out a breath, Rick sat on the floor and curled his arms loosely around his bent knees. ‘Come on, Uncle D, stop giving me a hard time. I only want to help you.’

His great-uncle glared down at him. ‘You can help by leaving me alone.’

‘The quickest way to get me to go away is to let me help you.’

Davy snorted, then winced again. ‘Persistent as well as a smart arse.’

Rick made no effort to hide his grin. ‘Yeah, I wonder where I get it from, you stubborn old coot. Come on now, let’s get you up to the doctor’s and get you sorted out.’

‘No! Not the doctor’s. There’s a first aid kit on the wall in the kitchen, just find me a plaster or something in there.’

Rick’s amusement faded fast. It wasn’t like Davy to make a big deal over something as trivial as this. A cold chill rippled down his spine. ‘Why don’t you want to go to the doctor?’

Davy pulled a face. ‘You know what it’ll be like up there: kids screaming, people coughing and spluttering all over the place. If you’re not sick when you go in, you will be by the time you get out. I’ll end up waiting for hours and then he’ll make me do a load of tests that have nothing to do with a cut on my head and poke and prod me like a heifer at the market.’

That didn’t sound like Doc Ferguson; then again, Rick couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to go to the surgery. He supposed once you reached Davy’s age there would be a lotmore visits, but even so, it seemed like he was blowing things out of proportion. ‘I know it’s a pain in the bum, Davy, but you can’t expect me to sit here and watch you slowly bleed to death. Come on, be reasonable.’

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