Jilted Read online

  For a split second, Ellie smiled wistfully, recalling weekends spent in the park, kissing Flynn under the slide, kissing Flynn on the picnic table, kissing Flynn by the bridge, kissing Flynn behind the toilet block. No doubt today’s teens would be peeved with the location of the new café and being forced to find alternative premises for canoodling.

  ‘Aren’t you getting off here, miss?’

  The driver’s question broke her reverie. She turned her head slightly. Yep, he was definitely talking to her, but with neither bitterness nor admiration in his voice. He obviously hadn’t a clue who she was. Perhaps her tomboy disguise would work after all. Perhaps she’d be able to walk the short kilometre to Matilda’s house, dump her things and get to the hospital without causing much of a stir.

  If she were honest with herself, it wasn’t running into locals that most scared her. It was just the one local, the resident who, despite still being a constant player in her thoughts, she was absolutely petrified to see. How could she ever face him after what had happened? If he ever deigned to speak to her again, to hear her out – and she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t – what could she possibly say? Sorry wouldn’t even begin to cut it.

  Not taking any chances, Ellie leaped off the bus, swiped her rucksack and suitcase from the hold and, with eyes trained firmly on the cracked pavement, began jogging towards Matilda’s cottage. Although it was longer, she took the back way, past the football oval and the swimming pool, avoiding the main street. Did Flynn still play football? She glanced at her watch, knowing if she hung around a couple more hours (and if the Hurricanes were playing a home game), she’d find out. A shiver shot through her at the thought and she picked up her pace, all the more eager to get to her destination.

  In all the years Ellie had been in Sydney, Matilda had visited faithfully every Christmas. And although Ellie was always invited to loads of high-society parties, there was no one she’d rather spend the holidays with than her warm, fun-loving godmother. Matilda had never once questioned Ellie’s decision to leave Hope. She never mentioned Flynn, and although Ellie had been desperate on a zillion occasions to ask how he was going, she’d always been too scared to enquire.

  Flynn was always the best-looking guy at school, in the town – hell, the world wouldn’t have been an overstatement. Captain of the footy team, tall, strong but still a bit lanky, tanned to perfection. He had a grin that made you feel all warm and liquidy whenever he flashed it your way. It’d be unrealistic – stupid – to think that his heart had stayed true to her. Why would it? Lord knows there’d been enough girls waiting on the sidelines. He’d probably moved on quickly and found someone else, married someone else, maybe even had babies with someone else. Happy, settled down, in love. That would be bad, really bad. Ellie couldn’t bear to think about it, much less to know, and had avoided finding out for a decade. Flynn Stuart Quartermaine was taboo. Someone Matilda never mentioned and someone Ellie never googled. But now, now she’d have no choice. Now she’d have to face what he’d become. Whoever that was. Whoever it was with. She tried to console herself. Maybe he’d left town?

  For a moment hope sparred with terror in her heart, but then reality knocked. Flynn would never leave Hope. This area was in his blood, part of who he was. Flynn wouldn’t be Flynn without his farm and country football.

  Ellie came to a stop, realising that she’d made it to the cottage without running into trouble. She couldn’t help but smile at this small success. At the end of an avenue off the main street, it was just as she remembered. Only Matilda could get away with living in a quirky, bright purple house, complete with red roof and yellow awnings. Or rather, half repainted yellow awnings. She closed her eyes for a second, cringing as she imagined the sixty-nine-year-old up there on a ladder doing the painting herself.

  ‘Why must you do such ridiculous things?’ Ellie said aloud, looking at the house. If Mat wanted to court danger, she should go bungee jumping or something on one of her holidays. As a respected and once well-known travel writer, money couldn’t be an issue for her. And even if it were, Ellie would have paid for the whole damn house to be painted, renovated and decked out in brand new furniture. Anything to prevent her godmother from taking such a fall. And from that height, she was lucky not to have done much worse than a broken ankle.

  Ellie shuddered. If Matilda hadn’t injured herself, she wouldn’t be here. Life could change direction in an instant; every little decision had the power to affect your existence in unfathomable ways. And other people’s. Sometimes Ellie thought it a miracle people had the courage to get out of bed in the mornings.

  Enough philosophising, she told herself. She had keys to find, cars to start, crazy old women to collect and mollycoddle. Because, by golly, Matilda would be mollycoddled. Her godmother never sat still long enough for Ellie to do anything much special for her, to repay her for all she’d done, but now she wouldn’t have a choice. Ellie would do everything she could to make Matilda feel loved. She planned on being so focused and dedicated to her role as carer that she wouldn’t have time to think or stress about what the locals were saying behind her back.

  Although the plastic frog had jumped to the other side of the old wooden verandah, the key was still there, tucked inside, just as Ellie suspected. She stood on the hot pink welcome mat where she’d first landed as a confused and heartbroken fifteen-year-old, then let herself in, smiling at the bombardment of familiar smells. Matilda had been in hospital for two days now, but this place was so infused with aromatherapy essences that Ellie reckoned it would smell like a flower shop even if she’d been gone a year.

  Dumping her bags in the living room, Ellie quickly tidied the kitchen table, wanting the house to be in order for Matilda’s return. Her thoughts turned to dinner and what she might prepare (from her limited repertoire), but when she opened the fridge, and then the pantry, dismay set in. Both empty, bar half a packet of sugar, two tins of baked beans, some old crackers and Moroccan mint teabags. What on earth did Mat live on? Whatever the answer, one thing was clear: Ellie would have to go shopping. Deep down she’d known she couldn’t hole up in the cottage for the duration of her stay, but it had been a lovely fantasy. Still, it was just after midday. Mat would have eaten lunch already and Ellie couldn’t wait to see her.

  She found the car keys in the leaf-shaped bowl in the hall and was about to leave when she decided on one final touch. Racking her brain, trying to recall what she’d learnt about essences and oils while living in this house, Ellie remembered something about lemon and ylang ylang being good for convalescing. Once a few drops were in two of Mat’s many burners and the candles lit, she smiled and left the cottage.

  She started the vintage Holden Premier and turned towards the hospital. Once out on the road, however, the calm instilled in her at the cottage quickly dispersed. Whatever way she looked at it, she’d have to deal with someone at the hospital – nurses, doctors, orderlies, who knows? More nervous than she ever was in front of the camera, she chomped down hard on her lower lip, hoping the pain would distract from the worry. She knew that once she saw Matilda and had been enveloped in one of her magical hugs she could face anything. No one would dare to say a word to her in her godmother’s presence. All she had to do was get there. Because despite what the town thought of Ellie, Mat was a well-respected resident. She was almost a local dignitary, due to all the books she’d published, not to mention the fact she did so much charity work. She was held in such esteem that most overlooked her slightly wacky way of living and dressing, while others wholeheartedly embraced her quirkiness.

  Sucking air into her lungs, Ellie found a car space right outside the entrance and gave herself a final pep talk.

  ‘Think of it as a test. If you survive this, the town will be a piece of cake.’

  Inside the small, one-ward hospital, she found the front desk unmanned. A sign informed her that the receptionist was on lunch and all enquiries were to be directed to the nurses’ desk. One hurdle down.

  Ellie hea
ded along the familiar corridor. She’d been here many a time in her teens when Flynn had broken limbs or dislocated things on the football field. Nothing had changed. She kind of hoped there’d be another sign on the nurses’ desk directing her back to reception – then she’d simply hunt Mat down on her own.

  She had no such luck. Behind the desk stood a glamorous nurse in a short medical ensemble that looked more appropriate for a fancy dress party than the requirements of the job.

  The nurse looked up as Ellie padded towards her. She flicked a long, blonde ponytail over one shoulder and her perfect green irises glistened as if she were a pirate laying eyes on a monumental treasure.

  ‘Well. Well. Well.’ She looked slowly up and down as if assessing Ellie’s less-than-fashionable attire. ‘If it isn’t Elenora. The runaway bride returns.’

  Pain speared Ellie’s chest. At the nurse’s reference to one of the most regrettable moments of her life, she summoned all she’d learnt in front of the camera, and tried for an air of polite indifference.

  ‘Lauren.’ Ellie smiled tightly, quaking inside. At the same time, she clocked the nurse’s ring finger, her heart relaxing at the absence of any marital bling. Lauren Simpson had always had her sights on Flynn. ‘I’m here to collect Matilda. Can you tell me her room number, please?’

  Lauren scoffed. ‘This isn’t the big smoke, princess. We don’t have hundreds of rooms to choose from. She’s the second door on the left. I’ll get her discharge papers ready.’

  ‘Thank you.’ As Ellie turned, she screwed up her face in disbelief. Some things never changed. On the other hand, never would she have imagined Lauren becoming a nurse. But all thoughts of her archenemy left as she came to Matilda’s door, which was slightly ajar. The room was quiet and dimly lit, the antithesis of its occupant. She peered in, noting two foot-shaped lumps at the end of the bed.

  ‘Mat?’ she called, knocking at the same time.

  There was slight movement under the covers and then a loud shriek. ‘Is that you, girl?! Geez Els, you don’t have to knock. Get yourself in here quick smart.’

  Grinning, Ellie pushed the door but almost stumbled as she caught sight of her godmother. She tried to hide the shock on her face. Mat looked ghastly. Usually a towering, well-built woman, she now seemed frail and tiny in this hospital bed. Her face was sallow, and grey bags drooped under her big, brown eyes despite the enforced rest.

  ‘What are you gawping at, sweet?’ came Matilda’s disapproving voice. ‘Never seen a sick old woman before? Get over here and give us a cuddle.’

  Relaxing, Ellie rushed to the bed and climbed up alongside her old friend. ‘The only thing sick about you is your sense of humour.’ She laughed into Mat’s hair as they wrapped their arms around each other and clung tightly. ‘Golly, it’s good to see you again.’

  They stayed like that for an aeon before Matilda, her voice slightly choked, pulled back, tugged off Ellie’s cap and tucked the stray strands of hair behind her ears. ‘Don’t go getting all sentimental on me. Hysterics won’t get me out of this prison. Which better be why you’re here.’

  ‘Why else?’ Ellie shrugged and recognition flashed between them.

  Matilda opened her mouth as if about to speak but Lauren swanned into the room.

  ‘Afternoon Ms T,’ she said with a warmth Ellie had never witnessed in her before. Ever. ‘Looks like today’s your lucky day.’ She turned to Ellie. ‘Sheila, the other nurse on duty, will be in to help Ms Thompson get ready. If you can come with me, I’ll run you through her pain relief medication and hire you out a wheelchair.’

  No, was what Ellie wanted to say. I’ll just stay right here, while you fetch the chair and tablets. But perhaps she was overreacting, her imagination getting away with her. Although Lauren’s red fingernails were inappropriately long for a nurse, how much damage could she really do?

  ‘Okay,’ Ellie said. She leaned over and kissed Matilda on the cheek. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  They were barely out of Mat’s earshot before Lauren started. ‘You’ve got some nerve coming back here.’

  ‘Still predictable, I see,’ Ellie replied, before she thought better of it. Probably not a good idea to bait the wildcat.

  Lauren froze. Her eyes narrowed and her hands moved to her hips. ‘What’s that’s supposed to mean?’

  For a split second Ellie felt as if she were back in high school. ‘I thought you might have come up with something more original, but no, you said what I’m expecting everyone will say.’

  Ellie saw her opponent’s fists bunch. ‘Whatever. You think you’re so fabulous, don’t you? Well, not in Hope you’re not. Apart from Matilda, no one wants you here. Especially not Flynn.’

  Ellie’s ribcage tightened. She didn’t want to talk about Flynn, especially not with Lauren. With false calm, she tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. ‘I’m only here for Mat.’ Damn, even she could hear the crack in her voice. ‘So if you don’t mind telling me what I need to know about her painkillers and recovery, I’d like to take her home, please.’

  ‘Always about you,’ muttered Lauren. She turned and headed back towards the nurses’ station.

  Fifteen minutes later and not nearly quickly enough, Ellie and Sheila had Matilda settled as best they could be in the front seat of the golden Premier.

  ‘Are you sure you’re comfortable?’ Ellie asked as she reversed the beast out of the car park.

  Matilda shuffled slightly in her seat. ‘Don’t worry about me. Did she leave claw marks?’

  Ellie summoned a chuckle. Typical Matilda, worrying about everyone else when she needed all her energies for herself.

  ‘You mean Lauren? She didn’t bother me. I just can’t believe she’s a nurse.’

  ‘Stranger things have happened at sea,’ Mat surmised, quoting one of her favourite phrases. ‘Besides, everyone knows she only did it for the cute, wealthy doctors.’

  Ellie couldn’t help but laugh out loud. ‘Has she had any luck?’

  ‘None whatsoever!’ Matilda roared. ‘Oh, we’ve had plenty of eligible doctors pass through. All are more than happy to pamper her desires while in town. But much to her dismay, none of them ask her to go with them when they move on.’ Matilda paused, then added with a wicked tone, ‘Perhaps she should have become an actress instead.’

  Ellie’s laugh was drier this time. ‘Trust me, there’s no sure-fire success there either.’

  On screen and off, the best love she’d ever had was during her time in Hope Junction. Misfortune had played a hand in the demise of that relationship, and she’d been unlucky in love ever since.

  ‘Here we are,’ she announced.

  A fact about small town life: it didn’t take any time at all to get from one place to another, which wasn’t always a good thing. Travel time had its perks – opportunities to ponder, talk, read or just rest. But Matilda’s whole face lit up as she stared delightedly at her cottage.

  ‘Now we just have to work out how to unfold the wheelchair and get you inside.’

  An ‘Ugh’ escaped Matilda’s lips and the joy on her face softened. She gestured to her plastered limb. ‘If this is God’s idea of a joke, I’m crossing to the dark side.’

  Ellie smiled. She wasn’t sure she believed in God – some days she did, some she didn’t, and some it didn’t seem possible that there wasn’t a divine creator of some kind. More often than not she had her doubts. Matilda’s beliefs weren’t conventional either.

  ‘Perhaps God is just trying to tell you to slow down, rest a little.’

  Matilda aimed her middle finger skywards. ‘Bollocks to that.’

  Chapter Three

  At the hammering on his front door, Flynn shook his head and stumbled from the couch. He’d been there for the last couple of hours, staring at a mark on the wall. His stomach groaned, alerting him to the fact it was probably way past lunch.

  ‘Flynn, what are you doing in there?!’ Lucy’s high-pitched shout shot through his head. ‘You’d better be ready.’
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br />   ‘What are you talking about?’ He opened the door and felt his body tighten at the sight of his little sister. Dressed in black tights, ridiculously high-heeled boots, a long-sleeved T-shirt that looked three sizes too small and a skirt he practically needed a magnifying glass to see, Lucy was doing a fabulous impersonation of a street-side hooker. He couldn’t imagine why his mum was letting her loose like that. Maybe she’d used up all her parenting energies dealing with him in his wayward years.

  ‘Flynn!’ She seethed angry air between her teeth and held up her chunky Hope Hurricanes purple-and-orange scarf, proceeding to wave it in his face. ‘You’re supposed to be driving me into town for the game.’ She looked him up and down, her eyes widening as she took in his holey track pants and scruffy jumper. ‘And you’re supposed to be playing.’

  ‘Damn.’ The game had completely slipped his mind. He rubbed his forehead, which had been pulsing with nonstop pain since he’d heard about Ellie. Running up and down the oval, tackling sweaty blokes and kicking out his tension could be just what he needed, but the rest of it … having to make small talk, knowing that everywhere he looked people would be talking about him, pitying him. He needed that about as much as a rhino in his top paddock.

  ‘You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?’

  ‘No,’ he snapped, giving a quick nod to her outfit. ‘I was just thinking that I should get you an overcoat. You’ll freeze in that, not to mention give the boys a heart attack.’

  ‘You’re not my father, Flynn. Even if you act as if you’re about ninety-five.’ She lifted her chin, daring him to disagree.

  ‘Thank the Lord,’ he replied, beginning to soften. But Lucy’s words made him think. Did he really give off that impression? Was he turning into an old grump? Or was it just all the talk of Ellie that had put him off balance?

  ‘Besides,’ she continued, oblivious to the churnings of his mind. ‘This is what all the girls are wearing. You don’t want me to be an outcast, do you?’