tonight she only had to ask.
As if she’d run into any trouble, Clara sighed, adding her tray to the heaving table. As if she was going to have to beat off a stream of admirers with a stick.
‘You look fabulous, Clara!’ Shelly made a beeline for her. ‘Your dress is divine, you look just wonderful.’
‘So do you.’ Clara smiled. ‘Where’s Ross?’
‘I was about to ask you the same. He “popped” over to the clinic an hour ago. You didn’t see the Flying Doctors’ plane there when you went past by any chance?’
Clara shook her head. ‘He’s probably just writing up the transfer letter. Bill’s case is pretty complicated.’ The frown on Shelly’s face told Clara she wasn’t appeased. ‘He’ll be here soon. Anyway, the night’s still young, the band’s booked until one—speaking of which, I’d better go and pay them.’
‘Well, hurry back,’ Shelly whispered loudly. ‘There’s no Ross, no Kell and no Abby. Even Timothy hasn’t made his way over. Apart from me and the kids, our table’s the emptiest one in the barn.’
She would have hurried back—in fact, Clara would have loved to have sat down and had a glass of punch or champagne, but instead Hamo, Jim and Mitch all decided to get their duty dances out of the way early and the next twenty minutes or so were spent being twirled around the floor by various colours of checked shirts as the band sang about shearing sheep, billy tea and all the things Australians held dear after a few cans of beer. Arriving back at the table, her face flushed, giggling at one of Hamo’s more lewd jokes, her smile instantly faded as several strained faces turned to greet her.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Ross said too brightly.
‘Where’s Abby?’
‘The Flying Doctors came,’ Kell replied, without looking up. ‘They needed a doctor escort.’
‘Why?’ Clara asked immediately. The Flying Doctors were exactly that, and Bill wasn’t that sick at the moment. She couldn’t think of one possible reason why Abby would have needed to go. ‘Who was the doctor?’
‘Hall Jells. He just thought it would be safer if the clinic provided an escort,’ Ross responded, without meeting her eyes, and from the pained look Shelly was flashing at her Clara decided not to pursue it, instead taking a glass of champagne from Bruce, the local pilot who was doubling as a waiter, and trying to ignore just how divine Kell looked tonight.
‘So this is where all the action is.’ The appearance of Timothy lifted the mood somewhat. Everyone fell on him as if he were a long-lost friend, obviously grateful for the diversion, and Clara found herself frowning. She felt as if she’d turned on her favourite soap only to realise she’d missed an important episode. Everyone was talking normally, smiling and cheerful, but something wasn’t right.
Something was definitely going on.
‘I fell asleep,’ Timothy explained needlessly, and, choosing the chair next to Clara’s, he sat down and gave her the benefit of a very nice smile. ‘It was supposed to be a fifteen-minute power nap.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘But that was about four hours ago.’
‘Well, I’m glad you made it.’ It was merely a polite comment, just as she would have given to any newcomer, but Timothy caught her eye and suddenly the massive barn seemed to shrink.
‘Really?’ Timothy asked, as if it really mattered.
Taking a nervous sip of her champagne, Clara held it in her mouth for a second or two before swallowing, wishing she had used that blessed green foundation after all.
‘Really,’ she said finally, the admission surprising even herself.
Clean-shaven and freshly showered, Timothy was pretty easy on the eye, but it wasn’t just his undeniable good looks that were working their charm here. There was something about his smile that told Clara it was just for her.
‘You look wonderful,’ Timothy said very slowly and very deliberately, and for all the world he sounded as if he really meant it. ‘Your hair looks nice, different.’ Green eyes raked over her and Clara could feel her pulse flickering in her neck as he scrutinised her slowly.
‘I—I had foils,’ she stammered. ‘Just a couple…’
‘I’ve no idea what foils are.’ Timothy grinned.
‘A few blonde tips.’
Timothy nodded. ‘Looks great, although I love red hair.’
‘That’s because you haven’t got red hair,’ Clara countered, blushing ever deeper. And even though the conversation flowed easily, even though they were only talking about foils and hair and oversleeping, she felt as if she were caught in a rip, seemingly following the tide of a normal conversation as a throbbing undercurrent pulled her in an opposite, unfamiliar and definitely dangerous direction.
‘I’ll go and get another round. Clara, do you want to give me a hand?’ Kell asked, standing up. Instead of falling over her chair to help him as was usually the case, for the first time in living memory, Kell actually had to repeat himself as she laughed at something Timothy had said. ‘Clara, do you want to give me a hand with the drinks?’
‘I’m fine.’ Clara smiled, deliberately missing the point, gesturing to her half-full glass as Kell shrugged and turned to go.
‘I’ll help!’ Matthew jumped up, determined to impress his big buddy Kell. ‘We can play—’
‘Hide and seek,’ Kell groaned, but his face broke into a smile as he took little Matthew’s hand. ‘We’ll have one more game of hide and seek and then I’ll get that beer.’
‘How about that dance?’ Timothy pushed, but Clara shook her head, turning briefly to check Kell really was out of earshot.
‘How about someone telling me what’s going on,’ Clara said sharply to her friends gathered around the table. ‘Why on earth has Abby gone to Adelaide as a doctor escort?’
‘Tell her, Ross,’ Shelly choked, her voice unusually angry. ‘Tell Clara the mess you’ve made of things.’
Clara almost spilt her drink in surprise. Never in all the time she’s known Shelly and Ross had they been anything other than devoted to each other. She’d never heard so much as a cross word pass between them and now here they were practically rowing at the table in front of everyone. Something was wrong, seriously wrong, and Clara stared from one to the other with her mouth gaping open.
‘Come on, Ross!’ Timothy grinned eagerly and then shut up when every one turned and shushed him.
‘Abby’s gone,’ Ross started slowly, as Clara’s mouth dropped ever further. ‘She’s leaving tonight with the Flying Doctors. She found out Kell was going to propose and she simply couldn’t face it. She didn’t want to leave like this, but on the other hand she didn’t know how to say goodbye.’
‘Does Kell know?’ Clara’s voice was barely a croak. She wished she’d used the green foundation now. Her face must surely be as red as a beetroot as she struggled with the news, relief flooding her veins intermingled with a horrible surge of guilt as she glanced over to the bar where Kell stood.
‘No!’ It was Shelly speaking now, the bitterness in her voice clearly evident. ‘Ross is going to tell him that little gem later, once the ball’s over, though I’m sure he knows something’s up. The poor guy’s walking around with an engagement ring in his pocket and he doesn’t even know that Abby’s bolted!’ She turned her teary face to her husband. ‘Well, you can leave me out of it, Ross. I just can’t bear to see his face when you tell him what you’ve done.’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ Ross said through gritted teeth. ‘You were the one who had to go and spill the beans to Abby. If you’d just stayed out of it we wouldn’t be in this mess.’
‘So