He wished he’d had a chance to see her again, to explain, before he left Sydney on Sunday morning. But Claire had said she was working. He’d called and texted her, but she hadn’t replied. He’d asked after her at the clinic when he went to collect Autumn, but her colleague – Jackie, was it? – had looked strangely at him and said she wasn’t there.
Scotty sighed and joined Chris at the float. It was too late now. Claire wasn’t going to come back to Bindallarah. He’d been crazy to think she would. He guessed they’d go back to emails every now and then. Or maybe they were done. Maybe he’d hear nothing from her for another eight years. The thought made him clench his fists in frustration.
The brothers lowered the ramp and Chris went inside and untethered Autumn. He eased her out; she was steady on her feet again, but the heft of her unborn foal meant any movement was pretty uncomfortable for her.
‘She looks great, mate,’ Chris said. ‘Remind me to thank Claire next time I see her.’
Scotty blinked, confused. ‘You mean next time I see her,’ he replied. ‘You haven’t seen Claire since you were a kid.’
Chris led Autumn towards her stall. ‘Saw her on Saturday night,’ he called over his shoulder.
Scotty felt his stomach drop to the soles of his worn work boots. ‘What?’ he shouted after his brother.
‘Yeah, that’s what I was going to tell you,’ Chris yelled back. ‘It’s big news. Claire Thorne is back in Bindy.’
Bindallarah looked nothing like Claire remembered. Thirteen years ago she had left a sleepy town whose main street offered a pub, a bakery and a dusty grocery store that closed at noon on Saturday and didn’t open at all on Sunday. Now the wide esplanade boasted a hip little café and a Thai restaurant, with a handful of quirky-looking shops dotted among the agricultural businesses – all bustling, even at nine o’clock on a Tuesday morning. Their awnings were festooned with bells, baubles and red-and-green tinsel that glittered in the bright morning sunlight.
The street was bookended by a supermarket and a discount variety store, and the strip of scrubby grass that bordered the beach had been landscaped into a handsome park with a towering Norfolk pine trussed up as a Christmas tree as its centrepiece.
Somehow, Bindallarah had been dragged into the twenty-first century – and just in time for Christmas.
‘Wow,’ Claire said as she climbed out of Vanessa’s compact hatchback and took in the town’s lively heart. A wave of nostalgia washed over her. It was silly, really. She hadn’t wanted to leave Bindallarah at fifteen, but after everything fell apart when she was sent away to boarding school, she’d vowed she would never come back. Since her father’s death eight years ago, she’d felt nothing but antipathy for the town that had turned its back on her. She hadn’t counted on there being any trace of that teenager’s longing for her former home still lingering within her.
‘Things are a little different these days, huh?’ her aunt replied. Vanessa smiled at her niece over the roof of the car and looped her handbag over her shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s have a coffee and I’ll fill you in.’
Claire hesitated. She wasn’t sure she was ready to dive back into the well of gossip that fed Bindallarah – especially when she knew Scotty’s wedding would be the talk of the town. It was the first thing Vanessa mentioned when Claire arrived. She said everyone in Bindallarah was as stunned by the news of his rapid engagement as Claire was. But her aunt hadn’t said anything about the marriage being the catastrophe Claire knew it would be. She couldn’t possibly be the only person in Scotty’s life who thought his crazy decision would lead to heartbreak, could she? She needed to take the town’s temperature on the subject, but that would mean facing the people she hadn’t seen since her father’s funeral – the people who had shunned her. She needed a little more time to psych herself up for that.
Since arriving in Bindallarah late on Saturday night, Claire had lain low at Vanessa’s cute weatherboard cottage at the quiet northern end of town. The only person she’d spoken to besides her aunt and her cousin, Gus, was the guy at the petrol station on the highway, where she’d stopped to refuel after driving flat out from Sydney.
But she had seen Chris Shannon, Scotty’s younger brother, pulling up at the next pump just as she’d been getting back into her car to leave. Claire knew Chris had recognised her; he’d looked at her like she was a ghost. If she knew anything about small towns, it was that everyone within a twenty-kilometre radius would have heard about the prodigal daughter’s return by now. She wasn’t sure she was ready for the reproving glares and passive-aggressive remarks quite yet.
Claire wondered if the whispers had reached Scotty. She didn’t even know if he’d made it back to Bindallarah himself yet, though Jackie had texted to say that he’d collected Autumn from the clinic on Sunday morning and had asked for her. Claire hadn’t spoken to him since she’d left the pub on Friday night. He’d called, but she still felt too bewildered by his news to put proper sentences together. She needed time before she saw him again – time to decide how she was going to convince him to call off his wedding.
‘Uh, why don’t we make it a takeaway coffee and sit on the beach?’ Claire said at length. ‘It’s been years since I’ve seen an empty beach. In Sydney there’s barely room to swing an esky.’ She laughed meekly.
She didn’t really want coffee; it was far too warm
