wherever it took him.
But he remembered the horrorof that first day when he’d woken up in the hospital and overheard someone refer to the Barrett girl who’d died … and his guilt-ridden relief when he’d discovered that it had been Paula, not Jenn, in the car with him.
He genuinely didn’t remember. Either that, or he was an excellent actor and a bastard determined to manipulate her emotions. Maybe it would be easier to believe that, to be angry, than to face the truth that
she
had been the one who had hurt
him
. The emotional tumult of that last day with him hung in her memory, even if it was wiped from his. But few people made it through teenage years without at least one episode of romantic drama and heartbreak, so what did it really matter, now?
The scattered lights of Dungirri came into view as they topped a slight rise. A sight she’d come to loathe, that last year after her Uncle Mick had slacked off at Marrayin one too many times and they’d had to move into town. At Marrayin there’d been plenty of places to escape the manager’s cottage, and Mark’s parents hadn’t minded her and Paula making use of the homestead family room and library to study. But in Dungirri there had been only the small weatherboard house in its untidy, overgrown yard and the constant sullen presence of her uncle and aunt.
If it hadn’t meant leaving Paula alone to deal with Mick and Freda, Jenn would have left Dungirri long before she did. She’d stayed only because of her cousin, their plans to leave together as soon as Paula finished high school the goal that kept her going. That, and Mark’s friendship and support. They’d been close … no wonder the story about him and Paula puzzled him. At least she could set him at ease about that.
‘The thing with you andPaula … she wasn’t your girlfriend. She was keen on a guy from another town, but one of the Dungirri boys was pestering her, almost stalking her. So, the two of you decided to pretend to be together to discourage him. That’s all it was.’
He slowed as they reached the first scattered houses of the town. ‘I’m glad I didn’t hurt you. I sometimes wondered if that was why you never wrote, never phoned.’
She hesitated, seeking words to explain. ‘Your future was based here, and that was everything you wanted. My future was elsewhere, and I was passionate about what I wanted to do, what I wanted to be. I still am. We were just kids, Mark, but we both understood that.’ She forced lightness into her voice. ‘So, no hearts broken. Not even fragile teenage ones.’
Lights blazed from the pub, and a dozen or more four-wheel drives and utes were parked in front of it and in the side street. Through the open doors of the front bar she could see that most of the tables and the bar area were full.
‘Busy night,’ she commented.
‘Yes.’ Mark swung the vehicle in to reverse park on the opposite side of the road. ‘Plenty to talk about.’
His revelations this morning, and his resignation. The fire. Jim. Plenty of reasons for a small community to gather.
‘I’ll just grab my bags and go in the side door,’ she said. ‘There’s no need for you to come in.’
‘Yes, there is.’
Mark’s response didn’t surprise her. His political reputation for staying the course and mediating and negotiatingthrough conflict took a kind of courage that he’d always had. Always accepting responsibility and never walking away from difficult situations.
He offered to carry her duffle bag but she slung it over her shoulder, her laptop bag in her other hand. ‘Habit,’ she said so that she didn’t seem rude. ‘Some of the places I travel, I like to keep my things close.’
Entering through the side door, she caught sight of a young woman cleaning up in the back bar, the chairs already on the tables. Mark went straight to the servery window off the front bar and caught the attention of the young Asian barman. Definitely someone new to town – other than
But he remembered the horrorof that first day when he’d woken up in the hospital and overheard someone refer to the Barrett girl who’d died … and his guilt-ridden relief when he’d discovered that it had been Paula, not Jenn, in the car with him.
He genuinely didn’t remember. Either that, or he was an excellent actor and a bastard determined to manipulate her emotions. Maybe it would be easier to believe that, to be angry, than to face the truth that
she
had been the one who had hurt
him
. The emotional tumult of that last day with him hung in her memory, even if it was wiped from his. But few people made it through teenage years without at least one episode of romantic drama and heartbreak, so what did it really matter, now?
The scattered lights of Dungirri came into view as they topped a slight rise. A sight she’d come to loathe, that last year after her Uncle Mick had slacked off at Marrayin one too many times and they’d had to move into town. At Marrayin there’d been plenty of places to escape the manager’s cottage, and Mark’s parents hadn’t minded her and Paula making use of the homestead family room and library to study. But in Dungirri there had been only the small weatherboard house in its untidy, overgrown yard and the constant sullen presence of her uncle and aunt.
If it hadn’t meant leaving Paula alone to deal with Mick and Freda, Jenn would have left Dungirri long before she did. She’d stayed only because of her cousin, their plans to leave together as soon as Paula finished high school the goal that kept her going. That, and Mark’s friendship and support. They’d been close … no wonder the story about him and Paula puzzled him. At least she could set him at ease about that.
‘The thing with you andPaula … she wasn’t your girlfriend. She was keen on a guy from another town, but one of the Dungirri boys was pestering her, almost stalking her. So, the two of you decided to pretend to be together to discourage him. That’s all it was.’
He slowed as they reached the first scattered houses of the town. ‘I’m glad I didn’t hurt you. I sometimes wondered if that was why you never wrote, never phoned.’
She hesitated, seeking words to explain. ‘Your future was based here, and that was everything you wanted. My future was elsewhere, and I was passionate about what I wanted to do, what I wanted to be. I still am. We were just kids, Mark, but we both understood that.’ She forced lightness into her voice. ‘So, no hearts broken. Not even fragile teenage ones.’
Lights blazed from the pub, and a dozen or more four-wheel drives and utes were parked in front of it and in the side street. Through the open doors of the front bar she could see that most of the tables and the bar area were full.
‘Busy night,’ she commented.
‘Yes.’ Mark swung the vehicle in to reverse park on the opposite side of the road. ‘Plenty to talk about.’
His revelations this morning, and his resignation. The fire. Jim. Plenty of reasons for a small community to gather.
‘I’ll just grab my bags and go in the side door,’ she said. ‘There’s no need for you to come in.’
‘Yes, there is.’
Mark’s response didn’t surprise her. His political reputation for staying the course and mediating and negotiatingthrough conflict took a kind of courage that he’d always had. Always accepting responsibility and never walking away from difficult situations.
He offered to carry her duffle bag but she slung it over her shoulder, her laptop bag in her other hand. ‘Habit,’ she said so that she didn’t seem rude. ‘Some of the places I travel, I like to keep my things close.’
Entering through the side door, she caught sight of a young woman cleaning up in the back bar, the chairs already on the tables. Mark went straight to the servery window off the front bar and caught the attention of the young Asian barman. Definitely someone new to town – other than
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