Season of Shadow and Light Read online

  How Alice missed Nancy. Even though their time together had been far too short, she understood, achingly so, the comfort of sharing life’s ups and downs with someone who knows you better than you know yourself. Thank goodness for Paige, the young girl who’d become her daughter—her life. Every day from her mid-teens Paige had grown into her mother in so many ways, except one. Nancy had been fragile, wearing her brittleness like a flickering neon light against a night sky.

  It read: Protect me.

  Driven by a once-in-a-lifetime love, Alice had done just that; she’d protected Nancy in every way. Had they met earlier, had it been Alice who’d first wooed an impressionable young Nancy into an affair, she might have saved her from so much pain.

  Alice sighed, listening to the rain—heavier now—and to the brushing branches thumping against the fibro sheeting on the closed-in veranda. She thought about the moth caught in a spider’s web and, to her surprise, discovered a tear sitting on her cheek.

  ‘Everything happens for a reason,’ Nancy used to say, believing in fate, fairy tales and fortune cookies, insisting she was the yin to Alice’s yang.

  ‘Together, as a whole, we are greater than our parts,’ she’d say.

  When Alice would poo-poo spiritual concepts, Nancy would smile and tell her, ‘Some things are out of our control. Yin-and-yang manifests itself physically all around us: fire and water, hot and cold, nightmare and dream, even life and death. Then there’s shadow and light.’ She’d pause before saying through her tears, ‘You know shadow does not exist without light.’

  When Nancy cried, Alice knew why.

  As a nurse, Alice believed in science over magic and other mumbo jumbo. She didn’t entertain premonitions or karma and she certainly didn’t try to interpret dreams. Alice had lived with Nancy’s nightmares; that was enough. She’d protected Nancy in life and she’d go on protecting her memory in death, because protecting people was what Alice did best. She’d do the same for Paige and for Matilda until she was no longer able, even though Paige had matured into an independent, determined and very capable woman; that is until everything had changed two years ago.

  Since the stroke, Paige had taken hit after hit, losing her baby, her health, her job, her so-called friends. Even Robert seemed distant, especially this past few weeks. Once back home, when she wasn’t so preoccupied, Alice would have a serious chat with that husband. For now, however, her priorities were here. Tomorrow she would have to start protecting Paige a little more fiercely, protecting the secret Nancy entrusted to her, and in doing so find a way to protect herself from the unthinkable consequences should the truth about Nancy’s past come out.

  Should she fail to keep the secret safe, Alice had to trust that Paige could forgive her.

  5

  Aiden

  ‘You there, Egan?’

  ‘Huh? What’s that?’ Aiden had momentarily tuned out to the voice on his mobile phone. ‘This time she said what?’ He hissed behind a cupped hand, lowering his voice and turning his back on the woman and young child—the one from dinner last night. She was now glancing around nervously and like a protective mother duck scooting her child around the puddles in the car park and through the back entrance to the dining room.

  Being a duck would have helped this morning, with the dregs of the night’s downpour still falling. Another 250 millimetres in twenty-four hours had set a rainfall record for the region. With any luck, his behaviour in the dining room last night would be water off a duck’s back. Not that luck and Aiden were too well acquainted these days.

  When the mother and her kid had turned up at the kitchen servery last night, his reaction had surprised him, probably as much as it had the woman. Aiden Egan had made an idiot of himself—big time: sulking, tossing his telephone, bashing pots and pans and generally acting like a brat apprentice.

  At least he was good at something. Yep! Aiden Donlan Egan had perfected stupidity around women. Wasn’t that the crux of the current telephone conversation? He closed his eyes to focus on the caller’s words, but that only put two images side-by-side, his mind letting two very different faces slowly morph over the top of each other—a curious kind of in-built facial recognition system he seemed to have developed lately that made all women remind him of the one who broke his heart.

  Focus, Egan! He shook his head to disperse the resulting image. Sure, in the dining room’s dim lights last night he might have imagined similarities; she had been standing at the servery in that expectant way, so familiar. Other than that, there was nothing specific, nothing he could put his finger on other than pure paranoia. Aiden Egan was no judge of character, nor was he a forensic genius when it came to facial structure. There had been nothing really familiar about her face at all, and yet something had tugged on his frayed and still fragile heartstrings. What though? Was it they were both female, both mothers to a small person, both late thirties, both attractive—

  Yeah, that must be it! Both capable of ripping your heart out, too, you pathetic loser.

  He swore under his breath and huddled under the small awning as the raindrops increased.

  The woman with the small child in the pub dining room last night sure had quickened his pulse. Seeing her this morning, however, let him realise she was taller and curvier than most of the women he’d known, and definitely more reserved. But maybe imagining familiar faces was all part of the healing process after losing someone close.

  Or maybe you’re destined to see similarities to remind you of what a stupid moron you are.

  ‘Aiden, mate, you hearing me?’ Matt Boyle sounded impatient, even through the mobile phone’s scratchy reception.

  ‘I hear you,’ Aiden replied, grinding his cigarette with the toe of his work boot.

  Why was he smoking? For three years he’d stayed butt free because smoking around a kid wasn’t right. Giving up had taken all his strength, too. Most of the people in his profession survived on smoke breaks rather than meals, with any food consumed on the job rarely nutritious. The classic chip butty washed down with Coca-Cola was a perfect example. Even bacon got a deep fryer dunking to cook it quick and add the all-important crunch factor. If only the customer knew that for no extra cost their request for extra-crispy bacon got them a plate of hardened arteries. Truth be told, getting out of the city café scene had saved Aiden’s life in more ways than one; a life he’d hardly thought worth living twelve months ago.

  ‘I hear you, Matt, but I don’t believe you,’ Aiden clenched the phone between his shoulder and chin so he could unwrap a strip of chewing gum.

  ‘Accept it, mate, and kiss the lot goodbye. Get on with your life, yeah? We tried. We tried bleedin’ hard. We failed. Had I thought for one minute that she was such a—’

  ‘Yeah, tell me about it. Listen, I have to go. This call is costing me money I clearly don’t have any more. I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Don’t be a stranger. And don’t go doing nothing stupid, you hear me? I’ll let you know if anything changes, yeah? Maybe they’ll stop the lying bitch at the border,’ Matt joked.

  ‘Sure thing. I’m that lucky—not—and you know it, dickhead. Besides, she’s not the one doing the running. I am.’ Aiden’s index finger punched the phone to terminate the call before jamming the bearer of bad news in his back pocket. The bloody thing sure hadn’t brought him any good news of late.

  He slapped the side door to the kitchen open and barged inside, repeating the profanity, ‘Shit! Shit!’ Then walked smack-bang into Sharni. ‘Shit!’

  ‘Well, look who’s here. Top o’ the mornin’ to you too, dear cuz.’

  ‘What’s with the laughing leprechaun act?’ Aiden grumbled.

  ‘Nothing in particular. Just know how much it annoys you. But I can see someone’s already taken care of that today. I gather from that face it’s the same shit only a different day you’d be referring to—and so eloquently?’

  ‘Who made you the eloquence expert?’

  The duo whipped duelling tea towels, flicking each oth
er several times and Aiden found himself laughing.

  ‘What are you doing in here this morning anyway?’ Sharni quipped. ‘Brekkie is my domain.’

  ‘Prep for tonight.’

  ‘Ooh, hope it’s my fave.’

  ‘What would that be, Miss String-Bean? Wheatgrass and soy bean stew?’ He lifted the lid to the Tuckerbox freezer, hauling out a lump of rump, taking pleasure in whacking the raw meat in front of his cousin. The four worn-out freezers rumbled in frustration at being crammed together in the airless back porch where Aiden had also managed to fit a second-hand walk-in cool room—a bargain he’d pick up on a trip to Brisbane.

  ‘What’s your problem, cuz? You couldn’t wait to get out of the place last night.’

  Nothing new in that! He wasn’t working here out of love. Coolabah Tree Gully was the last place Aiden had imagined he’d be spending his fortieth in a few weeks’ time, but it was the best place for now. He had family, a roof over his head, food, an income—albeit a far cry from his executive chef salary working in a trendy, hatted restaurant; the sort of position he’d been holding out for his entire career. The Tucker Box Bistro was also about as far removed from a state-of-the-art kitchen as you could get: no glimmering stainless steel scrubbed clean by greasy apprentices, no air conditioning, blast chillers or cool rooms overflowing with premium produce; everything, including him, hidden away from the prying eyes of the public so he could get as hot under the collar as necessary with those greasy apprentices. When he’d arrived in town twelve months ago he’d described the old pub’s open-plan arrangement as nothing more than a deep fryer with an audience. Funny thing was he’d immediately felt at home, back in the same dilapidated hotel kitchen where he’d earned his pocket money as dish-pig on busy nights, or when the regular dishy took a sickie. Back then Banjo wielded the whip, but only when his wife let him. There was nothing sweet about Honey. She whipped everyone into shape. Some things didn’t change.

  ‘A family trait, to be sure,’ he muttered as Sharni passed.

  ‘What are you grumbling about?’

  ‘Just saying I should’ve got the bloody meat out at end of service yesterday.’ He’d been too distracted to think last night. ‘This’ll never thaw in time. I’ll get something else while I’m in Saddleton. Got a delivery that has to be there first thing this morning.’

  ‘If the roads will let you,’ Sharni said. ‘You’d best take Banjo’s truck. According to the radio, if this rain doesn’t let up, No Go Creek Bridge will be under by this afternoon. The rest down that way won’t be far behind.’

  ‘You’re kidding. That soon?’ Aiden walked back to the kitchen via the adjoining bar area and fiddled the volume knob on the radio. With the pub as emergency assembly point for the area, the local emergency services channel was always squawking in the background. ‘I thought—’ He jerked to a stop. ‘Oh, ah, g’day. Won’t be a minute.’ The woman from last night stood quietly at the kitchen servery, the little girl now settled at a nearby table. ‘Hey, Sharni, come on. You got a—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, a customer. I can see that. Shove over, useless.’ His cousin fronted the counter, addressing the child first. ‘Hello, gorgeous.’ Then, looking at the woman she added, ‘Morning, Paige, sleep well?’

  ‘Surprisingly well, Sharni. All of us, I think. Didn’t even hear the rain, but from the puddles in the car park I’d say there was plenty.’

  ‘You can say that again. I had to move the horses to higher ground.’ Two chunky brown crusts popped from the nearby toaster, prompting a loud, ‘Oi!’ and a whistle from Sharni that was better than Banjo’s. The ear-splintering shriek across the dining room prompted an immediate response from the small boy playing with plastic dinosaurs, the Tyrannosaurus Rex lording it over a prostrate pepper shaker. ‘And put those sugar sticks back in the pot. What have I told you before about playing with the condiments?’

  Sharni smeared the slices of toast with lashings of peanut butter, adding a swipe of Vegemite before slicing one into triangles. Without looking, she dropped a whole slice into Liam’s outstretched palm while presenting the small girl with a triangle.

  ‘Try a Liam special order, sweetie?’

  ‘Vegemite and peanut butter? Together?’ Little Matilda’s face puckered.

  ‘Girls!’ Liam rolled his eyes, looking even more like the little man he was while his mother nudged the plate with the remaining triangles towards the girl now on the other side of the counter.

  ‘Go ahead, sweetie,’ Sharni urged. ‘Try some.’

  ‘I’m game,’ the girl’s mother said, obviously keen to lead by example, but nibbling a corner as if it was Beluga caviar, freshly shipped, straight from the Caspian Sea. ‘Mmm, yum!’

  Vegemite and bloody peanut butter, but not my pasta last night, eh? Aiden grumbled, making a point of banging the lump of beef, frozen rock-solid, on the counter.

  ‘She sure did bucket down last night,’ Sharni chatted as she lifted two more bread slices from a plastic tub, pushing the knob to let the toaster gobble them down. ‘Normally a dumping of that magnitude would soak into the ground. Thing is, there’s been so much freakin’ rain lately, and so much more coming downriver from up Queensland way, the dams and creeks are overflowing and there’s nowhere for a lot of it to go.’

  ‘I guess this isn’t the city with its storm water run-off underground.’ Again the woman’s small but strangely crooked smile triggered Aiden’s facial recognition system. One corner of her mouth turned up, the other slightly down, and Aiden imagined two different faces making a whole. ‘I’m hopeful of getting an early start for Saddleton while the rain’s not too heavy.’

  ‘Not today, you won’t,’ said Banjo, striding into the dining room. ‘Damage already done.’ His voice, big and booming over the jangling of empty stubby bottles he carried in a crate, took over the conversation. ‘Certainly not going to suggest you risk the trip in that pretend four wheel drive of yours, or with that little cutie on board.’ He winked at the two kids with matching Vegemite smiles as they watched from the table. ‘We’re not isolated yet,’ he continued, ‘but the latest from the road crew says one section of road has collapsed to the south. Even if you were to get through the detours from yesterday, sounds as though you’ll only strike more trouble down the road. I reckon everyone needs to bunker down and wait it out. Oh, and Paige, I spoke to young Gil about the boatshed. He agrees—three or four days and he’ll do another inspection, as long as the Calingarry Creek stays put.’

  ‘Three or four?’ Paige’s outburst prompted an awkward silence and stares.

  ‘Most travellers are in the same boat as you,’ Banjo explained. ‘Them folks over there in the corner had an uncomfortable night in the car after losing their caravan in a culvert. They tried to make it up Deadman’s Bend. Derek gave them a tow early this morning, but as it stands we ain’t got no room at the inn.’

  Paige looked across at the grey-haired couple huddled over a pot of tea and toast.

  ‘Aido, boy, the SES crew will be needin’ a good feed. They’re also recommending people stay off the roads unless it’s an emergency.’

  ‘We may have one. An emergency, that is.’ The older lady travelling with the woman and her kid arrived, joining the dining room discussion.

  The mother looked worried. ‘What’s the matter, Alice?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve looked everywhere, Paige,’ she replied exasperatedly, walking over to Matilda. ‘Mati, sweetie, tell Nana Alice where you put your pills yesterday morning. Remember I told you to take one and to put the rest of them in with Mummy’s water in the esky?’

  The child with the winning Vegemite grin nodded and announced, ‘I did, Nana. I put them in the water.’

  Aiden wanted to turn away, to stop this surge of concern he was feeling. Whatever the emergency, it was nothing to do with him. But the kid’s eager reply, the sound of sweet smugness of a job well done, was too gorgeous to ignore. From the back of the kitchen he watched Nana Alice walk over and wipe the vegemite smear
from the child’s small face with a tissue she’d drawn from inside the front of her shirt, after spitting on the scrunched ball. ‘But the pills aren’t in the esky, Mati. Where are they?’ she asked, her pitch increasing.

  ‘I put them in with Mummy’s water, like you said, and like when Mummy has a headache.’

  ‘You . . . ? Oh no, no, don’t tell me.’ Paige flattened a palm to her forehead. ‘Not in the water, sweetie. Nana Alice meant in with the water so the pills keep cool. Only Mummy’s special headache pills go in water.’

  The little girl’s mother slumped. ‘I’m afraid Alice is right everyone. I do have one of those emergencies, unless you’ve got a pharmacy tucked away here in town. She can go without her thyroid medication for a day or two, maybe three or four. But if we were to be isolated any longer . . . I can’t risk that.’

  ‘Only one pharmacy serving these parts, lass. O’Neill’s in Saddleton.’

  ‘Then small car or not, I’m going to have to get there. I can call and check with her endocrinologist in case I’m wrong, but I’ll need to arrange a prescription for the rest of our holiday anyway.’

  ‘Paige, I think we’d be better off heading back home.’

  ‘We’ve only just arrived and Banjo was telling us the road south closed behind us yesterday. As long as I can get to a pharmacy I’m sure Dr Somner can arrange something over the phone from Sydney. I did set up an e-Health record online a while back.’ She paused, thinking about something. ‘Besides, I’m in no hurry to go back.’

  Did Aiden imagine hurt in those last words?

  As he worked, he kept an eye on Banjo, now talking to the seniors at the back, and on the older woman who seemed in disagreement with the younger, Paige. The pub was filling with SES and RFS blokes in overalls and as Aiden considered the enormous and still frozen lump of meat his mind wandered to the supplies sitting in Saddleton Provedores and his own promised delivery to a local restaurant. He’d meant to go yesterday afternoon, and he would have if he hadn’t been waiting for a call from his legal eagle mate, Matt Boyle—as it was, the conversation hadn’t eventuated until this morning. The rain brought more bad news Aiden could have done without. Here he was needing to fill the freezers and pantry if he was to feed a dozen or so extra stomachs for the next few days, especially if this storm came anywhere close to the time when the river burst its banks back when Aiden had been a young volunteer cadet with the State Emergency Services.