Outback Boss, City Bride

creek bed and thinking that the ghost gums were beautiful? Well, it was just part of this time out of time, Meredith reassured herself. It was like a holiday, where she could pretend to be someone completely different, someone joyous and open and not sensible at all.

Someone else, not her.

As Hal had promised, it was impossible to miss them. At first, all Meredith could see was a great cloud of dust churned up by thousands of hooves drifting in the distance. She had never seen so many cattle together at one time, she thought, driving very carefully through the leaders who had blundered to a halt as they realised that the whooping and chivvying that had kept them moving all morning had stopped. The dust was slowly settling and the cattle had started to graze or simply stand, grateful for the rest.

Kevin had spotted her in the truck and came riding over to point towards a clearing, where some of the other men had already dismounted. Slouched in his saddle in his hat and checked shirt, he looked so much the archetypal cowboy that Meredith could suddenly see why Lucy had fallen for him. Kevin might be tongue-tied at the table, but out here he was in his element.

It was clearly a favourite stopping place, for there were several fallen trees, worn smooth with use, arranged around a cleared area where once they had obviously built a careful fire to boil up tea. Fire was a terrible risk, though, and Meredith had a gas burner with her this time. She took it out of the trunk along with a big, battered billy that Kevin filled from the big water carrier.

‘Where’s Hal?’ she asked as one of the stockmen lit the gas expertly and settled the billy to boil on top.

‘He was at the back, bringing along the stragglers,’ said Kevin. His eyes narrowed, recognising the familiar figure appearing through the dust haze. He pointed behind Meredith.

‘There he is.’

Meredith had a sudden sharp memory of Bill, the publican in Whyman’s Creek, pointing at Hal behind her shoulder and saying, ‘That’s the man you want’. She turned, as she had turned then, and saw Hal.

This time, he wasn’t in a bad mood. He was pulling up a big snorting horse, and it seemed to Meredith that his smile was just for her, and when he swung off his horse and walked towards her it was as if she had taken an unwary step and tripped over the edge of a cliff. She could feel herself falling, falling, tumbling uncontrollably into the reality she hadn’t wanted to face.

So that was why they called it falling in love, she thought with a strange, detached part of her mind. It was an extraordinarily physical sensation-the lurch of the stomach, the catch of the breath, the clutch at the heart and that strange, dizzying sensation, like a kind of vertigo, pulling her down by some irresistible force. And at the end, smashing into the truth so hard that there was no way you could pretend it wasn’t there any more.

She was in love with Hal.

It wasn’t just chemistry, it wasn’t just sex. It was this man-this one-Hal and only Hal. He wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t even nearly perfect, but he was the one. Meredith felt very odd. It didn’t make sense, but at the same time it was so blindingly obvious that she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t realised before.

She must have replied to Hal, but later she couldn’t remember what she had said. She knew that she had made tea. She had poured it out into battered enamel mugs and handed around a tin of rock cakes she had made, but it was almost as if an impostor called Meredith who looked like her and sounded like her was going through the motions.

The real Meredith couldn’t think of anything but how she was going to deal with this new knowledge. It made her feel strangely clumsy, as if she had acquired an extra limb that was throwing her off balance. How could she have let this happen? She wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Hal. That hadn’t been the plan.

Meredith wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. She wanted to pretend that it wasn’t there at all, but she couldn’t. She wanted to tell Hal, but she couldn’t do that either. That was the last thing she could do. And what would have been the point?

He could hardly have been more clear about what he wanted, after all. No commitment, no talk of forever, no love. Just for now, he had said, and she had agreed. It would be a temporary thing, fun while it lasted, but they both knew that it would never be any more than that.

It wasn’t Hal’s fault that she had fallen in love with him, and she wouldn’t embarrass him by telling him either. It would only make things awkward when the time came to go, as come it would. Even if by some chance Lucy changed her mind, she wouldn’t be able to stay for ever. Hal didn’t want her. Her visa would run out. She would have no choice but to go home.

She was going to have to find a way to say goodbye without Hal guessing how she felt, Meredith realised. She was going to have to find a way of convincing herself that it was what she needed to do, and really that shouldn’t be hard. If there was no future with Hal, the sooner she left and got on with the rest of her life, the better.

‘Is something wrong?’ Hal asked that night as Meredith lay close but quiet beside him.

‘No,’ said Meredith. ‘Nothing’s wrong.’

‘You seem a bit…withdrawn.’

‘I was just thinking about home,’ she said.

It was true. She had been thinking about how it would feel to be back in her own house, with no screen door, no raucous galahs, no silent creek in the distance, no Hal. She had been wondering how she was going to bear it.

‘Ah,’ said Hal. ‘Is there news of Richard?’

‘Nothing new. He’s sitting up in bed now and he can have a proper conversation.’

‘It sounds as if he’s getting better, then.’

Hal tried his best to sound encouraging, but he suspected he didn’t do it very well. Ever since Meredith had told him how perfect she had thought Richard was, he had found the idea of the other man vaguely irritating.

No, deeply irritating.

‘You must be pleased,’ he said, trying to smooth the jealousy from his voice.

‘Yes, yes, of course I am.’ Meredith took a breath. ‘You should be pleased too,’ she said. ‘Once Richard’s better, Lucy will be coming back. You should have your cook back soon.’

There was a tiny silence. ‘I’ll miss your pastry,’ said Hal after a moment, deliberately keeping it casual. ‘Can you teach Lucy to make it before you go? Her pies aren’t nearly as good as yours.’

Meredith’s jaw ached with the effort of smiling. ‘I’ll leave her the recipe,’ she said.

After a moment, Hal took her hand and entwined his fingers with hers. ‘Your pastry isn’t all I’m going to miss,’ he said quietly, and she made herself smile again as she let him pull her close.

‘I know,’ she whispered into his throat.

It was true, Meredith thought the next morning as she picked lemons for a drizzle cake she planned to make later. He would miss her. She believed him about that. They had had a wonderful time together.

But he wouldn’t miss her enough to ask her to stay. He wouldn’t take that risk. His mother’s abandonment had scarred him too deeply.

Whenever Meredith thought of what his mother had done to her children, she wanted to weep. Hal deserved the happiness of a family of his own. He deserved to be loved, even if it wasn’t by her. He might have been gruff with Emma and Mickey, but he had looked after them, had played in the water hole and taken them riding. They would have felt safe with him. You’d always feel safe when you were with Hal. When he held you, you felt he’d never let you go.

But he would let her go.

Meredith jerked another lemon free, then stopped in surprise as she heard the phone ring in the office. There were rarely any calls at this time. Most people who wanted to get in touch knew that Hal was out most of the day and tended to ring at mealtimes. She had better get it in case it was important.

But, as she turned to run for the veranda, the ringing stopped. Hal must still be there, she thought with relief. He had come back from the yards a little earlier saying something about road trains and agisment as he’d headed into the office and Meredith had just nodded, understanding that he was going to make some calls but nothing more than that.

Slowly, she made her way back to the lemon tree. It was such a treat to pick your own lemons. She wouldn’t be able to do that in London.