Flight to Coorah Creek
Read Flight to Coorah Creek Online
Authors: Janet Gover
Tags: #romance, #fiction, #contemporary, #Australia, #air ambulance
Copyright © 2014 Janet Gover
Published 2014 by Choc Lit Limited
Penrose House, Crawley Drive, Camberley, Surrey GU15Â 2AB, UK
The right of Janet Gover to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying. In the UK such licences are issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90Â Tottenham Court Road, London, W1P 9HE
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-78189-099-8 (epub)
For John.
I could probably do this without you â but I never want to.
When people ask where I get my ideas from, it's sometimes hard to answer. Ideas can come from nowhere or from everywhere. Some years ago, in the central Australian desert, I found myself in the care of the Royal Flying Doctor Service. In places where the nearest doctor is hundreds of kilometres away, the RFDS saves lives. In part, this book is my way of saying thank you.
Even more years ago, I met a Catholic nun who worked as a nurse in a children's hospital. In the face of the most tragic suffering, she remained serene and never lost her faith in people. I always wanted to write a story worthy of such a character.
These are the people who inspired this book.
As a result of a chance meeting on a plane, I offered the name of one of my characters to be auctioned to raise funds to help the people of Haiti, still recovering from the shocking earthquake. Thank you Andrea Geroldi for your generosity â I hope you like âyour' character.
It takes more than inspiration to write a book â an author needs a lot of help ⦠Thank you Jamie White for advice on flying â or not â a light aircraft. Any technical mistakes in this book are entirely my fault.
Thank you to my friends and fellow writers in the Romantic Novelists' Association â in particular Jean and Rachel and the girls (and occasional guys) who meet up in London, Reading and Oxford. You help more than you will ever know.
Thank you to the Choc Lit authors who welcomed me with open arms. I love you all. Thank you to the team at Choc Lit who turned my manuscript, with all its flaws, into this beautiful book.
And thank you to John â for the many cups of tea, the proof reading and for sharing the pain and the joy. Marrying you was not an entirely bad idea!
âIt's no big deal.'
The loud voice and angry tone suggested it was in fact a very big deal.
âHonestly! She's only a bridesmaid for goodness sake. It's not her decision to make,' the woman almost shouted into her mobile phone.
Jessica Pearson shifted uncomfortably in her seat, moving an inch or two further away from the woman sitting next to her. From all parts of the airport lounge, eyes began to turn in their direction. Jess felt the first small twinge of fear. What if someone recognised her? A man seated opposite sighed very loudly. He glared at the woman on the phone, who either didn't see him or chose to ignore him. He caught Jessica's eye and shook his head, his mouth fixed in a disapproving line. Jess avoided his gaze and ducked her head to stare at the page of the book she wasn't reading.
âI know she's his sister, but this is my wedding ⦠And before you ask, I will
not
talk to her.'
The woman was becoming even more strident. Was she totally unaware of the looks she was getting from her fellow passengers? Jess was tempted to move, but that would only draw some of those eyes her way â and the last thing she wanted to do was to attract any attention. Right now she was just an anonymous face in the crowd, another nameless passenger in Sydney's busy airport. And that's just what she needed to be.
âExcuse me, miss?'
The voice caused Jessica's heart to leap. Had she been recognised? Slowly she looked up into the face of a uniformed airline agent.
âIs this yours?' the agent asked, indicating a black bag on the carpet near Jessica's feet.
âNo.' She shook her head.
âIt's mine,' the woman next to her said, without removing the phone from her ear. âIs there a problem?'
Jess ducked her head, glad to be out of the spotlight â but she wasn't that lucky. More eyes turned her way as the passenger snapped her phone closed and began to argue with the airline agent over whether her bag was carry-on size.
Oh, no! Jess thought. Please!
She risked another quick glance around the lounge. Two men sitting on the other side of the room were looking directly at her. One said something in a low tone to his companion.
Jess felt her heart clench. She couldn't hear their voices and she wasn't even sure they were discussing her, but her mind filled in the words she'd heard so many times over the past few days.
Gave up her lover to escape jail. Turned him in to save her own skin. Just as guilty as the others. A drug runner who should be in prison.
She wasn't a drug runner, but neither was she entirely innocent.
The speakers overhead crackled into life announcing that it was time to board the flight. Jess leaped to her feet. She was in no great hurry to board the plane, but she was eager to be out of the curious gaze of her fellow passengers.
The flight attendant smiled mechanically as he checked her boarding pass.
âWelcome on board, Miss Pearson.'
He didn't recognise her name. Jessica nodded briefly and quickly moved towards her seat at the back of the plane, hoping that her fellow passengers would be too busy settling into their seats to notice her. She reached up to touch the ends of the hair that feathered around her face. She still wasn't used to this new super short haircut. She wasn't hiding her identity as such, but all the press photos and the TV footage taken outside the courthouse during the trial showed her with long dark hair. Her new hair was simply a symbol of her new life. That life was starting today.
It felt so strange to be a passenger and not in the pilot's seat. Not in control. But she hadn't had much control over her life during the past few months. This flight was the first step in getting it back.
As she settled herself in the last row, Jessica sent a brief plea to whatever deities were responsible for travellers and people starting over: if she had to have a travelling companion in the seat next to her, could it please be someone willing to sit in silence. Above all, could it please not be the annoying bride-to-be from the lounge! The gods were kind and the seat beside her remained empty as the aircraft doors were finally closed, and the plane taxied for take-off.
Jessica's every sense was tuned to the moment the wheels left the runway and the plane soared free of the earth. Ever since she had been a child watching the birds in the clear blue skies, she had wanted to fly. There was a lot of hard work involved in becoming a pilot, but that hadn't deterred her and the day she got her wings was one of the happiest of her life. More than anything else in the world, she loved to fly. Every time she left the ground behind, her heart sang.
But not anymore. That had been taken from her along with so much else.
Unlike most of the other passengers, Jessica didn't look down at Sydney's famous harbour bridge or the glorious beaches. They were a part of the life she was leaving behind. Her eyes were closed. As much as she tried to believe she was starting a new life, deep in her heart she couldn't shake the feeling that she was running away. Looking for a safe place to hide.
âLadies and gentlemen, the seat belt sign has now been turned off and you are free to move around the cabin â¦'
She was tired. So very, very tired. It seemed like years since she'd had a good night's sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the courtroom and the faces of the judge and jury. She heard the crisp clear voice of the prosecutor. And she saw Brian. Brian Hayes â her boss. Her lover. The wealthy jet-setting businessman with the brilliant blue eyes and the killer smile. The man the press had labelled âHeroin Hayes'.
They'd had a name for her too. Jezebel, they called her. The woman who betrayed her lover to save herself from prosecution. But that wasn't how it was. She was the one betrayed; when the man she loved hid those packets of white powder on her aeroplane. All she had done â all she could do when she discovered them â was try to atone by contacting the authorities.
But that hadn't stopped the accusations. In the media. Outside the courtroom ⦠where she came face to face with a mother's grief.
My son is dead.
The woman screamed over and over again, her brown eyes filling with tears.
Because of you. It's your fault. You brought that poison into the country. You killed my son â¦
Jessica's eyes shot open as she suddenly jerked awake. Her hands were clenched around the arms of the seat, her breath coming in short sharp gasps. She wiped a hand over her face.
âAre you all right?' The flight attendant leaned over her.
âI must have fallen asleep,' she stammered, as she fought to regain her composure.
âYes, you did.' The attendant smiled in understanding. âAnd for quite some time. You missed the refreshments. We're going to be landing at Mount Isa in just a few minutes.'
âThank you.'
As the attendant carried on his inspection, Jessica gathered her scattered wits. She glanced out of the window. The countryside below her was red-brown and looked very dry. They were circling the town. She could see the streets and houses and on the outskirts of the town, the great scar on the landscape that was the mine. She remembered reading about the outback mining towns at school. They had seemed a world away from her safe home in the Sydney suburbs. But today Mount Isa was just the first stop on her journey. She still had further to go.
When Jessica ran away â she went all the way.
Jessica emerged from the terminal building, if such a grand name could be applied to it, and glanced about her. The airport was little more than a runway with a motley collection of small buildings, most of them built of corrugated iron. The arrival of the Sydney flight must have been rush hour. There were three taxis parked outside, the drivers looking her way in the hope of a fare. They were going to be disappointed. To her right she could see a collection of smaller buildings, and a few light aircraft parked on the apron. That was her destination. She shrugged her rucksack higher on her back and started walking, rolling her small suitcase behind her.
It was hot. Within a few moments she could feel the sweat starting to prickle in the small of her back and on her forehead. In Sydney, winter was only starting to fade, but this far north it would always be hot. She had better get used to it.
There was no fence around the apron where the light planes were parked. No security. No guards. The irony of that struck home with some force. All those other airports she'd seen. All the guns and uniforms and checks ⦠yet here she was, free to walk past the parked aircraft and into the dim interior of the hangar.
She let the rucksack fall to the ground, as her eyes adjusted after the brilliant glare outside.
âHello?' she called, her voice echoing a little.
âHang on!' The muffled shout came from inside the aircraft parked a few metres away.
Jessica took a closer look at the plane and the green logo emblazoned on its side. âGoongalla Mine Air Ambulance' was stencilled in red under the cockpit window. This, she guessed, must be her new plane. She gently ran one hand along the wing's leading edge. The Beechcraft was a nice aircraft. Maybe it would give her back some of the things she had lost â¦
âG'day!'
A man emerged from the plane. He wore blue jeans and a stained white T-shirt â but the tools he carried identified him immediately. No doubt he was the one responsible for the aircraft's good condition.
âHi.' Jessica stepped forward and held out her hand. âYou must be Jack North.'
âThat's right. You are â¦?'
âJessica ⦠Jess Pearson.' She watched his face, waiting for that moment of recognition. Waiting to feel him draw away. Waiting for the silent accusation. It never came. The man's brow creased.
âSorry?'
âI'm your new pilot.'
Realisation spread slowly over the man's face. âWe were expecting a bloke.'
âI'm not a bloke.'
Jack North looked her up and down. âYes, I can see that.' He wiped his hand carefully on his T-shirt, adding considerably to the stains, and took her offered hand. âSorry. Pleased to meet you. Welcome on board.'
Jess guessed Jack was a few years older than her. Probably in his mid-thirties. He was quite tall, several inches taller than her, and he was a big man. Solid with muscle. The hand she shook was strong and calloused with hard work. His face was open and friendly. It was very obvious that her name and face meant nothing to him. Perhaps she had run far enough.
âAnd I'm pleased to meet you, too,' she said. âThis is a nice aircraft. I'm looking forward to flying her.'
âYeah.' The engineer turned with obvious pride. âShe's a beaut all right. Got the blended winglets. They really help the performance.'
âAnd they look pretty cool too,' Jess offered as she stroked the upturned wingtip.
âYeah. What have you been flying?'
The question so casually asked struck close to her heart. âSmall jets,' she said briefly.
The engineer raised an impressed eyebrow. âLear?'
âGulfstream,' she admitted, and was rewarded with a soft whistle.
âVery nice indeed.'
âYes, it was,' Jess answered. The jet had been beautiful and a joy to fly, but when she last saw it, it was no longer beautiful. The lush interior had been ripped away by the drug agents. All the joy was taken from it. And from her. Maybe this new aircraft would give some of it back.
âIs she ready to go?' she asked.
âYou bet. Let's get your things and put them on board.'
Jess indicated the rucksack and the small suitcase. âThat's it.'
It seemed she had surprised him again. Jess bit back a grin as she let him get her bag. She climbed the aircraft stairs and it was her turn to be impressed.
She had stepped into something that was a cross between a doctor's surgery and an operating theatre. There were two stretchers lining the bulkheads, and three seats. Custom built wooden cabinets filled most of the luggage space. She guessed they would hold medical kit. This was no rich man's toy. This was a plane with a purpose.
âWe can take two on stretchers â and three in seats,' Jack said, as he stepped into the plane behind her. âThere's a defib machine stored there. Heart monitor. Blood pressure. All with its own battery power. It's ready to go. All we need is the patient.'
âAnd the doctor,' Jess added.
âOh, him we have,' Jack said. âYou'll meet him when we get to Coorah Creek.' He carried her bags to the back of the plane, placed them in a recess, and tightened the cargo net around it. As he did, Jess couldn't help but notice â¦
âI don't mean to pry,' she said, âbut is that a tattoo of Donald Duck?'
âNo. Of course not.' Jack grinned broadly as he slid his T-shirt sleeve higher to give her a clear view. âWhy would a grown man have a tattoo of Donald Duck? It's his Uncle â Scrooge McDuck.'
Jess stifled a smile. She had a feeling there was more to her engineer than met the eye.
Jack took the co-pilot's place. Jess buckled into the pilot's seat for the first time since the trial. It felt good to be back there. She felt a moment's nervousness under the engineer's close scrutiny, but it didn't last long. She settled into the routine of pre-flight checks. Tower clearance came as soon as she asked for it, and she taxied to the runway. She held the plane in check as she pushed the throttle forward, feeling the power build. The Beechcraft quivered with eagerness to be away. Jess released the brake. The aircraft raced down the runway and climbed into the brilliant blue sky.
Although the joy was still missing, Jess did feel her heart lighten just a little as the landing gear clunked into place, and she pointed the plane's long sleek nose towards the south.
It was an easy journey. The aircraft almost flew itself, allowing Jess to spend some time gazing out of the window at the vast expanse of sun-baked earth beneath her. She had known she was coming to the outback. Coorah Creek was one of the last towns before the great desert that covered half the continent, but she still hadn't expected such emptiness. Within just a few minutes of leaving Mount Isa, it was as if she had stepped back in time several millennia. There were no roads. No buildings. Nothing to show where man had made his mark on the landscape. In the distance, she could see the dark red rocks of a long low mountain range. Here and there she saw the winding track of a creek, but seldom was there a glint of water. This was a dry place. And harsh.