of her life and, as a result, having to leave the only place she’d ever really called home.
But no one knew the real reason she’d left, not even Matilda. They just thought she was a selfish bimbo, a girl who hadn’t fallen far from her parents’ tree and couldn’t hack commitment any more than she could country life. That hurt, but she’d rather that than the truth.
“Hope Junction,” called the driver.
She dared to look up slightly, stealing a quick peek out the window to see if anything had changed. The welcome sign still read Population 1,199, although there’d been at least 1,500 residents when she’d lived here. The Shell servo still had a 1970s feel and the garden center on the corner looked more run-down than ever. The only sign of progress was a new café next to Apex Park—with “About Coffee Time” plastered in big letters across the top of the building.
For a split second, Ellie smiled wistfully, recalling weekends spent in the park, kissing Flynn under the slide, kissing Flynn on the picnic table, kissing Flynn by the bridge, kissing Flynn behind the toilet block. No doubt today’s teens would be peeved with the location of the new café and being forced to find alternative premises for canoodling.
“Aren’t you getting off here, miss?”
The driver’s question broke her reverie. She turned her head slightly. Yep, he was definitely talking to her, but with neither bitterness nor admiration in his voice. He obviously hadn’t a clue who she was. Perhaps her tomboy disguise would work after all. Perhaps she’d be able to walk the short kilometer to Matilda’s house, dump her things and get to the hospital without causing much of a stir.
If she were honest with herself, it wasn’t running into locals that most scared her. It was just the one local, the resident who, despite still being a constant player in her thoughts, she was absolutely petrified to see. How could she ever face him after what had happened? If he ever deigned to speak to her again, to hear her out—and she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t—what could she possibly say? Sorry wouldn’t even begin to cut it.
Not taking any chances, Ellie leaped off the bus, swiped her rucksack and suitcase from the hold and, with eyes trained firmly on the cracked pavement, began jogging toward Matilda’s cottage. Although it was longer, she took the back way, past the football oval and the swimming pool, avoiding the main street. Did Flynn still play football? She glanced at her watch, knowing if she hung around a couple more hours—and if the Hurricanes were playing a home game—she’d find out. A shiver shot through her at the thought and she picked up her pace, all the more eager to get to her destination.
In all the years Ellie had been in Sydney, Matilda had visited faithfully every Christmas. And although Ellie was always invited to loads of high-society parties, there was no one she’d rather spend the holidays with than her warm, fun-loving godmother. Matilda had never once questioned Ellie’s decision to leave Hope. She never mentioned Flynn, and although Ellie had been desperate on a zillion occasions to ask how he was doing, she’d always been too scared to inquire.
Flynn was always the best-looking guy at school, in the town—hell, the world wouldn’t have been an overstatement. Captain of the footy team, tall, strong but still a bit lanky, tanned to perfection. He had a grin that made you feel all warm and liquidy whenever he flashed it your way. It’d be unrealistic—stupid—to think that his heart had stayed true to her. Why would it? Lord knows there’d been enough girls waiting on the sidelines. He’d probably moved on quickly and found someone else, married someone else, maybe even had babies with someone else. Happy, settled down, in love. That would be bad, really bad. Ellie couldn’t bear to think about it, much less to know, and had avoided finding out for a decade. Flynn Stuart Quartermaine was taboo. Someone Matilda never mentioned and someone Ellie never searched for. But now, now she’d have no choice. Now she’d have to face what he’d become. Whoever that was. Whoever it was with. She tried to console herself. Maybe he’d left town?
For a moment hope sparred with terror in her heart, but then reality knocked. Flynn would never leave Hope. This area was in his blood, part of who he was. Flynn wouldn’t be Flynn without his farm and country football.
Ellie came to a stop, realizing that she’d made it to the cottage without running into trouble. She couldn’t help but smile at this small success. At the end of an avenue off the main street, it was just as she remembered. Only Matilda could get away with living in a quirky, bright purple house, complete with red roof and yellow awnings. Or rather, half-repainted yellow awnings. She closed her eyes for a second, cringing as she imagined the sixty-nine-year-old up there on a ladder doing the painting herself.
“Why must you do such ridiculous things?” Ellie said aloud, looking at the house. If Mat wanted to court danger, she should go bungee jumping or something on one of her holidays. As a respected and once well-known travel writer, money couldn’t be an issue for her. And even if it were, Ellie would have paid for the whole damn house to be painted, renovated and decked out in brand-new furniture. Anything to prevent her godmother from taking such a fall. And from that height, she was lucky not to have done much worse than a broken ankle.
Ellie shuddered. If Matilda hadn’t injured herself, she wouldn’t be here. Life could change direction in an instant; every little decision had the power to affect your existence in unfathomable ways. And other people’s. Sometimes Ellie thought it a miracle people had the courage to get out of bed in the mornings.
Enough philosophizing, she told herself. She had keys to find, cars to start, crazy old women to collect and mollycoddle. Because, by golly, Matilda would be mollycoddled. Her godmother never sat still long enough for Ellie to do anything much special for her, to repay her for all she’d done, but now she wouldn’t have a choice. Ellie would do everything she could to make Matilda feel loved. She planned on being so focused and dedicated to her role as carer that she wouldn’t have time to think or stress about what the locals were saying behind her back.
Although the plastic frog had jumped to the other side of the old wooden veranda, the key was still there, tucked inside, just as Ellie suspected. She stood on the hot-pink welcome mat where she’d first landed as a confused and heartbroken fifteen-year-old, then let herself in, smiling at the bombardment of familiar smells. Matilda had been in hospital for two days now, but this place was so infused with aromatherapy essences that Ellie reckoned it would smell like a flower shop even if she’d been gone a year.
Dumping her bags in the living room, Ellie quickly tidied the kitchen table, wanting the house to be in order for Matilda’s return. Her thoughts turned to dinner and what from her limited repertoire she might prepare, but when she opened the fridge, and then the pantry, dismay set in. Both empty, bar half a packet of sugar, two tins of baked beans, some old crackers and Moroccan mint tea bags. What on earth did Mat live on? Whatever the answer, one thing was clear: Ellie would have to go shopping. Deep down she’d known she couldn’t hole up in the cottage for the duration of her stay, but it had been a lovely fantasy. Still, it was just after midday. Mat would have eaten lunch already and Ellie couldn’t wait to see her.
She found the car keys in the leaf-shaped bowl in the hall and was about to leave when she decided on one final touch. Racking her brain, trying to recall what she’d learned about essences and oils while living in this house, Ellie remembered something about lemon and ylang-ylang being good for convalescing. Once a few drops were in two of Mat’s many burners and the candles lit, she smiled and left the cottage.
She started the vintage Holden Premier and turned toward the hospital. Once out on the road, however, the calm instilled in her at the cottage quickly dispersed. Whatever way she looked at it, she’d have to deal with someone at the hospital—nurses, doctors, orderlies, who knows? More nervous than she ever was in front of the camera, she chomped down hard on her lower lip, hoping the pain would distract from the worry. She knew that once she saw Matilda and had been enveloped in one of her magical hugs she could face anything. No one would dare to say a word to her in her godmother’s presence. All she had to do was get there. Because, despite what the town thought of Ellie, Mat was a well-respected resident. She was almost a local dignitary due to all the books she’d published, not to mention the fact she did so much charity work. She was held in such