‘Yes, thank you.’ How much had he heard? she thought.
‘Who did you need to talk to?’ Jenny asked innocently and offered him a plate of mince pies.
‘Friends,’ he said shortly, his face expressionless. Meg knew that expression. It meant the McMaster displeasure was about to wreak consequences. There wasn’t a lot of wreaking he could do right now, though, except wave away the mince pie plate as if it was poison.
‘Eat my mince pies or I’ll be offended for ever,’ Jenny said. ‘The price of my Internet cafe is a compliment for the cook.’
And he really was trapped, Meg thought. He was forced not to snap; he was forced even to be pleasant.
So he ate and he somehow managed to tell Jenny her mince pies were excellent, while Meg tried to get her face in order, and she almost managed it but then Jenny, dog at a bone, refusing to be deflected, said, ‘So are you going to tell us who this friend is who’s awake at six o’clock in the morning in New York?’ and Meg blushed all over again.
‘Jenny, he doesn’t have to answer.’
‘No, but I’m interested.’
‘Thank you very much for your Internet use,’ William said, clipped, tight and angry. He tugged his wallet out and laid a note on the kitchen table. A note so large it made Jenny gasp.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Paying,’ he said.
‘Put it away,’ Jenny said, angry to match now. ‘There’s no need for that.’
‘Jenny’s my friend,’ Meg said. ‘She’d never charge.’
‘She’s not
Whoa. Line overstepped. She was home for Christmas and there were some things which she would not put up with. Hurting Jenny was one of them.
‘She is because she let you use the Internet when she didn’t have to. Without thought of payment. You won’t have to walk back to the station. I’ll drive you,’ she snapped. ‘Jenny, do you have a sleeping bag I can borrow? And a water bottle? Give him a couple more of those mince pies so he won’t starve.’
‘Hey, I wasn’t that offended,’ Jenny said, her flash of hurt disappearing and being replaced by her customary laughter. She took William’s money and tucked it back into his suit pocket. ‘It was very nice of him to offer.’
‘It was not nice,’ Meg said, glowering. ‘He was being snarky.’
‘Snarky?’ William said.
‘Don’t look at me like I’m speaking some other language,’ Meg retorted. ‘You know what snarky is. Jenny. Sleeping bag.’
‘You’re not serious,’ Jenny said. ‘If you are, he can sleep here.’
‘He’s not your friend. He just said so.’
‘He wasn’t serious.’
‘I was,’ William said. ‘But I’m having second thoughts.’
‘You know, I think that’s wise,’ Jenny said, and grinned again and waggled her finger at the pair of them. ‘Birds in their little nest agree…’
‘Jenny!’
‘Go on, get out of here, the two of you,’ Jenny said cheerfully. ‘Take him home, Meg, and don’t even think of going via the station. Can you just see the headlines? Tomorrow’s express train thundering through Tandaroit Station, with William McMaster sleeping off the effect of too many mince pies on a deserted platform? So be nice to her, William, and if you can possibly manage it, tell her who it is that you contacted tonight. She’s dying to know, even if it isn’t her business.’
She raised floury hands and shooed them out into the hall, out of the front door. She banged it shut after them, and then tugged it open again. An afterthought had just occurred.
‘It’s the season for peace on earth and goodwill to all men,’ she called after them. ‘So don’t leave him on the railway station.’
They drove home in silence. Meg was too embarrassed to say anything. William simply…didn’t.
She pulled up outside the house and made to get out, but William’s hand came down onto her arm, making her pause.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But I don’t take kindly to questions.’
‘That’s your right. But you will be nice to my family and to my friends.’
‘I will be nice to your family and to your friends,’ he repeated. ‘Tell me about Scott.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I’ve employed you for three years. I’ve never asked about your family.
‘I don’t take kindly to questions,’ she intoned and he grimaced.
‘That’s your right,’ he conceded. ‘Of course you’re not obligated to tell me.’
‘As you’re not obligated to tell me who you just telephoned.’ She relented then, sighed and put up her hands in mock surrender. ‘No. Don’t tell me. It’s Jenny who wanted to know that one, not me.’ And how about that for a barefaced lie? she thought, but some lies were almost compulsory.
But William’s question still hung, unanswered, and he wasn’t taking it back.
She glanced at the house. Apart from the Christmas decorations it was all in darkness. Letty and Scott would be long asleep. Even the dogs hadn’t stirred on their return. They’d be sleeping in a huge huddle at the end of Scott’s bed, she knew. Turps and Roger would be on the bed itself-Scott had trained them to lie still so he could use them as a rest for his brace. The others would be on the floor, as close as they could get.
She loved Scotty so much it hurt. It hurt so much she wanted to cry. And, all at once, it was easy to answer William’s question. She wanted to talk.
‘Scotty’s my half-brother,’ she said, staring ahead into the darkness. Speaking almost to herself. ‘My mum was a single mum-she had me early and she raised me the hard way, with no parental support. Then, when I was nine, she met Scott’s dad. Alex was a farmer, a fair bit older than she was. Mum was selling second-hand clothes at a market and Alex had come to town to check out some new, innovative water pump. He never bought the pump but he took one look at Mum and he fell hard.’
‘Love at first sight,’ William said, and he sounded a bit derisive. Meg glared at him. He was on shaky ground. Derision wasn’t something she was putting up with tonight.
And apparently he realised it. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry, sorry. Love at first sight. It happens.’
‘So it does,’ she said and glared at him a bit longer until she was sure he was remembering the railway station and the water bottle and the express train thundering through, crowded with people with cameras.
‘So it did,’ she reiterated as he attempted to look apologetic-not a good fit for W S McMaster but it was a start. Her glare faded. ‘I remember the weekend Alex invited us here. He was a great big dairy farmer, in his forties. He hardly talked. That was okay. Mum was a talker, and I remember he just kept looking at Mum like she was some sort of magic. And then I met Letty and Letty was my magic. We arrived on the Friday night and Mum and Alex couldn’t take their eyes off each other all weekend, and on Sunday Letty said “call me Grandma.” It was like we’d come home. We had come home. Alex took us back to Melbourne and we threw our things into the back of his truck and we headed back here and stayed. Alex married Mum a month later. I was a flower girl. Letty made me the most gorgeous dress. We were so happy, and then five years later Scotty was born and it was perfect.’
‘Nothing’s perfect,’ William said, as if he couldn’t help himself, and she shook her head in disgust.
‘And there’s no such thing as love at first sight? Don’t mess with my fairy tales, Mr McMaster. It was love at first sight and it was perfect for sixteen whole years. Sure, the farm’s not big and we struggled a bit, but Mum still did markets and everyone helped. I was good at school and we knew there was no way the farm would support Scotty and me-or even one of us-but I was really happy going to university. I missed it more when I got a full-time job, but I was still pretty happy, having this place here as my backstop. And then four years ago a truck came round a bend on the wrong side of the road and it all crumpled to nothing.’
Silence.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said at last.
‘Yeah,’ she said grimly. ‘It makes you realise that when you have the fairy tale you hang on and you appreciate it every single moment. Just like that…’ She shook her head, shaking away nightmares. ‘Anyway, Mum and Alex
