Flight to Coorah Creek (5 page)

It was exactly what Jess was looking for.

In no time at all, Adam pulled up in front of the only two-storey building in the town. ‘Come on in and let me introduce you to the Warrens. Syd and Trish run the place. I should warn you, Trish does talk rather a lot. They're good people. Most of the people here are. They'll welcome you with open arms.'

Adam grabbed her bags and ushered her through the doors into the pub's one big room. It was cool inside, and dark after the sun's glare outside. Adam left her in the lounge and vanished through an archway into the main bar in search of the publican. Jess turned slowly around. She hadn't ever spent a lot of time in pubs. Brian had been more a restaurant and wine bar sort of person. This place would not have suited him at all. The big high-ceilinged room held a mismatched collection of tables and chairs and a pool table dominated one corner. The walls were painted wood panels, decorated by framed posters of outback scenes. It wasn't exactly something out of
Vogue Living
, but Jess decided there was something to be said for the pub's gentle homeliness. The wooden floors gleamed softly with much polishing. In a nearby kitchen someone was baking a cake, or biscuits. It smelled good. There was no television, which made Jess feel just a little more secure.

She was starting to wonder what had happened to Adam, when she heard a scurry of feet behind her. She turned and by instinct caught a small blonde girl as she darted past. Just as Jess dropped to her knees in front of the girl, a slightly older boy appeared at a run. His hair and similar blue eyes proclaimed their relationship.

‘Bethany.' The boy called and the little girl giggled happily.

‘Well, hello,' Jess said, as the boy came up to her.

‘Bethany ran away,' the boy said, taking the little girl's hand.

‘And you were looking for her?' Jess fought back a smile at the boy's serious face.

‘We have to look out for girls. Jack says so.'

Could the boy be talking about her mechanic? Maybe. He hadn't mentioned a family, but then, she hadn't asked either. Asking someone else about their life usually meant similar questions being asked of her, and Jess tried to avoid too many questions. At least from adults.

‘Well, he's right,' Jess said. ‘What's your name?'

‘Harry. What's yours?'

‘I'm Jessica. Where's your mum, Harry?'

Before the boy could speak, the answer came in the form of running footsteps. A woman appeared, her face a mask of concern.

‘Harry! Bethany! I told you not to leave the room.'

‘I'm sorry Mummy, but Bethany ran away. I had to come and find her.'

The woman swept both children into a hug. ‘You must never go off alone. I was so worried.'

Jess stepped back to give the woman a moment with her children. She could feel the concern and love emanating for the woman. Her desire to protect her children from harm was evident in everything about her.

My son is dead. It's your fault. You killed my son!

Jess took another step back. Her foot caught a chair and it crashed noisily to the floor. The woman looked up.

‘I'm sorry,' she said, slowly getting to her feet. ‘I fell asleep upstairs, and when I woke they were gone. We're new to town and I guess I panicked …'

‘It's fine,' said Jess, replacing the chair under the table. ‘I think they might have been heading for the kitchen.'

‘Mrs Warren cooks really great biscuits,' Harry offered by way of explanation.

‘I'm Ellen Parkes,' the woman said, ‘and you've already met Harry and Bethany. We just arrived in town today. We're staying here for a day or two.'

‘Jess Pearson. I arrived yesterday – sort of, and I think I'm staying here, too.'

‘Yes, you are. And you are very welcome.' A smiling, elderly woman approached. She had short grey hair and her lined face seemed to almost glow with good humour. ‘We've had a few of the Flying Doctor pilots here from time to time. And once a pilot who was flying a plane for a politician. But we've never had a female pilot before.' The woman wiped her hands with a dishcloth and Jess guessed she was the one responsible for the great cooking smells. ‘The pub hasn't had this many guests since last year's election,' the woman continued before Jess could greet her. ‘We had two politicians and two election officials here then, plus the pilot, of course. This is going to be much more fun. I see you've met Ellen and the kids. I'm Trish Warren.' The woman didn't seem to need to pause for breath. ‘Let me show you to your room, Jess. It's going to be such fun. All us girls here together. And with the kids, too. I'm sure we'll all get on famously.'

Ellen opened her eyes and stared up into the darkness. The silence surrounding her was as unfamiliar as the room in which she lay. For a split second she had to think to remember where she was. Of course, her room at the pub. She remembered the train journey, and the man … Jack … who had come to her rescue. Then she raised herself on one arm to look at the next bed. Beth and Harry were sound asleep, curled up under the covers against a surprisingly chilly night. They'd been exhausted when she put them to bed. She hadn't heard a peep from either of them since. Then what had woken her? A glance at the window told her the sun was only starting to peek above the horizon. She'd been just as exhausted as the kids last night and had fallen into a deep sleep not long after they had. Something must have pulled her from that blissful rest.

A cry. From a nearby room.

Ellen listened intently. There was silence for a few seconds then she heard it again. A low cry. A woman's voice. She slipped out of bed and even though it was dark and she was alone, she pulled down the sleeve of her nightshirt to cover the bruises. Then she padded softly to open the door just a crack. The hallway outside was deserted.

As far as Ellen knew, there was only one other guest in the pub. Jess.

Last night, Trish had insisted both women and the kids eat their dinner at the big kitchen table. She claimed she wanted someone to talk to, but it had seemed to Ellen that Trish actually didn't need any other person. She seemed quite capable of doing all the talking herself. Still, Trish was a kind woman, and Ellen was more grateful for that kindness than anyone would ever know.

Muffled sounds from the bedroom across the hall suggested Jess had woken. Ellen ducked back into her room. In their short time together, she had formed the impression that Jess was a very private person, who wouldn't be at all pleased to know that someone had heard her crying in the night.

Jess was out of bed very early. She always was when the nightmares came. She probably wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, and if she did the bad dreams would be waiting. It was easier just to get out of bed. She dressed and headed downstairs into the silent pub. There was no sign yet of the publican or his wife, so Jess unlocked the side door. She hesitated for a few moments before pushing the door open, enjoying the knowledge that she could just walk through it. Without being accosted. Without facing a barrage of questions. For such a long time, even that simple act had been denied her. And not just her …

‘Get off my lawn. Do you hear me.' Her mother's voice was shaking with anger. ‘And just leave my daughter alone. She was the one who turned them in. She was the one who stopped them.'

The front door slammed and her mother slumped against the wall, tears coursing down her face. Outside, the media scrum remained on the lawn, trampling her mother's flowerbeds and tossing cigarette butts onto her father's carefully tended lawn. Jess stood in the living room and cursed herself for bringing this into her parents' lives. Cursed Brian for using her.

And wondered … was there something she should have seen? Some hint of what Brian was doing? Could she have stopped him earlier?

Stepping through the doorway, Jess took a long deep breath. The air had a crisp freshness that only comes at dawn. It helped clear her head, if not her heart. The sun was just beginning to peer over the horizon, bathing the town in a gentle golden glow. It was still chilly, but that wouldn't last much longer. The streets were empty of movement, apart from a black and white cat sitting on a nearby fencepost, carefully washing his paws. He stopped for a few seconds, one paw still raised as he watched Jess walk past in the direction of the town's main street. In the far distance, a kookaburra laughed. A crow cried as if in answer. This early in the day, the sounds of nature far outweighed the sounds of the town, and she liked that. It felt safe.

Coorah Creek wasn't exactly a bustling metropolis. Apart from the pub, there were no more than a handful of shops. Diagonally opposite the pub was a grocery store. It was quite large, and Jess guessed it was the only one in town. The clothing shop next to it was also probably the only one of its kind too. Underneath the wide awning that was a feature of all the shops in the street, Jess could see the displays in the window. One window was full of men's clothes. The other was for the women. She didn't have to cross the road to guess that there would be no designer labels in that window. That was fine by her. She was done with designer labels. Blue jeans and a T-shirt were all she needed or wanted for this new life.

Jess walked a little further along the road, past an electrical goods shop that also seemed to offer repairs and an electrician who made house calls. There was a hardware shop with a window packed with rolls of fencing wire and wicked looking tools – the use of which was a mystery to her. She seemed to be on the rural side of the street. The next building sold stock feed. She crossed to the other side, drawn by a sign that offered hairstyling and beauty treatments. It was a small salon – if indeed it really deserved that name. According to the sign above the door, it was run by a woman named Olga. Jess didn't think she'd be patronising Olga's Outback Salon any time soon. A café, a small furniture shop and an even smaller newsagent-cum-bookstore-cum-souvenir shop seemed to complete the commercial district. Jess wondered briefly what souvenirs a town like this might boast and just who would buy them.

Jess was almost back opposite the pub already. Her last stop was an area with possibly the greenest grass she had seen since leaving Sydney. The square of carefully tended lawn was weed free. A small statue in the centre seemed to suggest that this was the official part of Coorah Creek. The square was bounded by a police station and post office, and at the rear was what looked to be the only building in town made of bricks rather than wood. The bricks were the same deep red as the earth and the building's roof was made of tiles, not corrugated iron. According to the sign, this grand, two-storey edifice was the Town Hall and office of the mayor. Jess felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders as she stood on that tiny patch of carefully tended grass. She'd wanted a quiet place to hide – and this small community seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

All she needed now was a house to live in – and a cup of coffee!

Feeling more cheerful than she had in a long time, she headed back to the pub, not really expecting to find anyone awake, but the smell of coffee reached out to tickle her nostrils the moment she opened the door. Trish Warren greeted her cheerfully as she entered the kitchen, produced the coffee and set about making breakfast.

‘Just some toast will do fine for me,' Jess insisted. ‘I don't want to put you to any trouble.'

‘It's no trouble,' Trish assured her. ‘Nothing beats a good cooked breakfast. I have to make breakfast for those two kids when they wake. I'll guess their mum could use a good breakfast too. She looked quite pale last night. Of course, she could just have been tired after the journey. Poor girl, she must be so pleased to get away from …' Trish bit off the next words, and she was silent as she furiously beat eggs in a mixing bowl.

Jess gratefully accepted the steaming plate of eggs and bacon, and found to her surprise that she was ravenous. It must be something about this outback air!

‘The ABC radio was predicting rain this morning,' Trish continued, as she threw another round of bacon onto the grill, ‘but I don't think so. The wet season's gone now. It's going to start to get warm pretty soon.'

Start to get warm? Jess wondered about that, but was happy to let Trish's chatter just wash over her while she ate. But eventually, she had to interrupt. ‘Trish,' she said tentatively. ‘Is there somewhere I can hire a car for a day or two?'

‘Hire a car? No. The town doesn't even have a taxi. Never needed one, I guess. Everyone has their own car.'

‘I was supposed to get a car with the job … but then I was supposed to get a house as well. I'm beginning to think I got it wrong.'

‘Adam will know. Or more likely, Jack. He's the practical one.'

‘Okay. I'll get in touch with him.'

‘In the meantime,' Trish came over to refill her coffee mug, ‘there's a ute out the back. Take that.' She dropped a set of car keys onto the table.

‘No. No. I couldn't!' Jess was startled by the offer.

‘Oh, go on. I am not going to be using it today. There's no other way for you to get out to the airstrip. Or to the hospital.'

‘But it's your car …'

‘Out here we help each other. That's just the way it works. You need the car more than I do. Take it. You can bring it back once Jack has got you sorted out with your own transport.'

Jess hid her face in her coffee cup for a few seconds while she took a deep breath. Her recent experiences had taught her that no one ever did something for nothing. Stop it, she told herself. There's no catch. Trish is just trying to help. Accept the offer in good grace.

‘Thank you,' she said.

‘Just watch the brakes. They're not too good,' Trish added. ‘I told Syd to get them fixed, but he hasn't yet. Of course, most men would fix the car themselves, but not my Syd. He's a good man, mind you, but totally hopeless when it comes to cars. Or anything else mechanical, for that matter. Thank goodness for Jack, that's all I can say. If it wasn't for him—'

‘Thanks so much for the car,' Jess interrupted, before Trish could really get up a head of steam. ‘If you need it, just call me. I'll bring it right back.'

‘All right, but don't you worry. Syd's got a car too; although why we have two I don't know. We certainly don't need them.'

‘Maybe it's so you can lend one to people like me?'

Trish laughed. ‘Maybe.'

A clatter of eager feet outside the door heralded the arrival of Bethany and Harry, their mother in close pursuit.

‘I'm hungry,' Bethany announced.

‘Bethany,' her mother chided, ‘that's not very polite. You should say good morning to Mrs Warren before you demand food.'

‘Good morning,' both children chorused at the same time.

Trish ruffled the blonde heads as the children climbed onto two more chairs around the big kitchen table. ‘And I bet you'd like some juice.'

‘Yes!' The children chorused.

‘Yes what?' their mother demanded in mock severity.

‘Yes, please!'

‘Well, let me see what I can do.' Trish turned back to her huge refrigerator.

‘How are you this morning?' Ellen enquired, as she took a seat next to Jess. ‘Did you sleep all right?'

Something about her tone caused Jess to hesitate. Ellen was only a few years older than her, but her voice held the same sort of concern she had heard in her own mother's voice on those nights when she'd sought comfort in the family home. Nights when the nightmares caused her to cry out in her sleep.

‘It's always hard to sleep somewhere new,' Ellen offered. ‘I'm sure you'll sleep better when you get settled into your own place.'

Jess felt a twinge of gratitude for Ellen's empathy. They were two very different women, but Jess had a feeling they had at least two things in common – a good reason to come to Coorah Creek and a strong desire to keep that reason secret.

‘Speaking of my own place,' Jess said, ‘I'd better find Adam. Thanks for breakfast, Trish. I'll take good care of the car.' She escaped before the conversation could get any more personal.

‘You know, Doc, for a smart man, sometimes you really get it wrong.'

‘You can fix it. Can't you?' Adam asked.

‘There's a lot to fix,' Jack pointed out.

Adam turned his head slowly, looking around the room. Jack was merely stating the blindingly obvious. Maybe this was a mistake. This house adjoining the hospital grounds was the official doctor's residence. Adam had moved in here when he first arrived in the Creek, but quickly abandoned it to move into the hospital. He told people he liked to be closer to his patients, but the truth of the matter was that he didn't like living alone in a house. Alone in a hospital was different. It was a place of work. A place of healing. A house was just empty and quiet … and lonely.

He vaguely remembered the house as being quite an acceptable place to live. But that was then and this was now. In the past five years, he'd stripped it of a lot of its contents. Some had been put to use in the hospital. Some he'd given away to people in need. He hadn't realised just how little remained.

‘I guess I still pictured it like it was when I arrived.'

Jack opened the door to the kitchen, raising a small dust storm as he did.

‘She's not going to be impressed.'

Jack was right. Jess wouldn't be at all pleased to hear him say this was her new home. Well, not if she saw it like this.

‘How long is it going to take to fix it up?'

‘That depends,' Jack's voice floated out from the kitchen. ‘Does she cook?'

Frowning Adam followed him. ‘How should I know if she cooks …? Oh.'

The kitchen was even worse than the living room. Under a thick cloud of dust, marks on the lino floor showed where the refrigerator had once rested.

‘The cupboards would come up all right with some paint,' Adam said doubtfully.

It didn't take long for them to inspect the rest of the house. Then Jack delivered his verdict.

‘Doc, I can fix this but it's going to take some money. And some time. There aren't a lot of home decorating shops in the Creek.'

‘Money we have.' Or rather, the mining company did. ‘Time, however, is a bit of an issue. I don't think our new pilot is all that keen on staying at the pub.'

‘Then I had better get started. I think I have an idea that might help.'

Adam left him to it. If anyone could make that house liveable, it was Jack. The man had a knack for finding things in unexpected places. Adam would put money on his having a refrigerator and some furniture lined up by the end of the day.