Billabong Bend

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ric. Ric Bonelli, the boy who’d grown up across the river. Once upon a time he’d been her best and closest friend. ‘You.’ She could barely believe the evidence of her eyes.

Ric bit his lip as though buying time to collect his thoughts. The gesture was heart-tearingly familiar. ‘Nina . . .’

She didn’t trust herself to speak, couldn’t speak.

The door opened and Dylan appeared, sized them up. ‘The penny finally dropped, did it?’ He retreated into the house and Nina felt suddenly sober. Without thinking, she reached out to trace her finger down Ric’s face. Her childhood sweetheart stood before her, but then again he didn’t. Time had transformed him into this stunning stranger. Dylan reappeared, a bottle of champagne in hand. He popped the cork, making Nina jump. ‘Come on, you two. There’s more bubbly and I hate to drink alone.’

He ushered them into the lounge room. Nina didn’t know where to sit, what to say, where to look. Ric’s eyes were like searchlights. Dylan poured drinks and pushed a glass into her hand. She gulped it down all at once. He raised his eyebrows, refilled her glass and patted a cushion on the couch. ‘Sit, Nina. This is going to be fun.’

‘You’re all grown up,’ said Ric, staring.

Nina took another swig of Dutch courage. ‘Back at the ball,’ she said, ‘I thought you and Dylan were an item.’

Ric said, ‘Don’t be stupid,’ at the same time that Dylan rolled his eyes and said, ‘Don’t I wish.’

Ric laughed and flashed a boyish smile. For a moment he looked sixteen again. Nina searched around for something to say, anything that might bring some normality to the situation. ‘I didn’t know you two were friends.’

‘Ric was the only kid at Drovers High who hated cricket as much as I did,’ said Dylan. ‘We were a natural fit.’

‘I’ve never been much of a team player,’ agreed Ric.

‘No, you’re more of a lone wolf,’ said Dylan. ‘But you stuck up for me back then, when nobody else did. Maybe because you copped a few names yourself. Problem was, you couldn’t be there all the time.’ He turned to Nina. ‘One week in year nine, I came home from school with a bloody nose every single day. That’s when Mum decided enough was enough. So she sent me to St Patrick’s. Heaven compared to Drovers Central. Drama, music, a film appreciation society for the non-sporty kids. That’s when Nina and I became mates, wasn’t it, sweet?’ Dylan put his arm around her. ‘You should have seen Ric when I told him you’d be at the ball. He was desperate to go. I’d never have got him to wear that kingfisher mask and cape otherwise.’

‘Shut up, Dylan.’ Ric drained his glass.

Nina’s heart jumped. So . . . Ric had gone tonight because of her? Her eyes held his. ‘How long has it been?’ she said. ‘Fifteen years, maybe, since we were last down by the river?’

They’d started meeting when they were mere children. Secretly. Secretly, because their fathers had always been at odds. More than that – they’d detested each other. Sometimes Nina thought the only reason Dad had sold Red Gums was to get away from Max Bonelli. The hostility and bitterness between them had reached far and wide. As droughts had become more frequent and water issues more divisive, the men’s enmity reflected people’s fears. Locals had taken sides, irrigator against grazier, neighbour against neighbour. It had been like living in a war zone. Eventually Bianca, Max’s patient wife, could bear it no longer. She left him, and returned to her family in Italy. The children went with her, including Ric. It had broken Nina’s fourteen-year-old heart.

‘Fifteen years,’ agreed Ric. He looked perfect and all wrong at the same time. Time ticked by and the silence weighed heavy in the room. Dylan rolled his eyes. ‘Aren’t you going to tell her?’

‘Tell me what?’ Nina asked.

Ric shot him a furious look. Dylan heaved a big sigh and stood up. ‘You know where the blankets are, Nina. The couch is quite comfy.’ He collected the empty glasses. ‘Goodnight, all. Have fun, but keep it down. My housemate’s asleep.’

Nina felt dizzy-drunk again. She listened for the sound of Dylan’s bedroom door closing. Ric was listening too, she could tell. There it was. Alone now, like in the old days down by the river. No, not like that. As children they’d known each other so well. They’d shared an easy intimacy. Now they didn’t know each other at all.

‘It was like you just dropped off the face of the earth,’ she said. ‘I thought maybe you’d had an accident. Maybe you were sick. Maybe you couldn’t get to a phone, or you’d lost my number, or my address.’ She swigged her drink. This was dredging up a host of hurtful memories she’d believed long-forgotten. Days spent locked away, doing nothing but wonder. Nights without sleeping, endlessly playing the what if game. Weeks of making excuses, blinding herself to reality. Months of fading hopes.

‘I’m sorry.’ He wet his lips.

‘Damn it, Ric. Not a phone call? Not a text or an email or a letter?’

Ric looked at his shoes, broad neck bowed. A tendon stood out in sharp relief, and a pulse throbbed in his temple. She wanted to shake the silence out of him. ‘At least tell me when you got back to Australia?’

It took him a long time to answer. ‘Years ago,’ he said at last. It wasn’t the answer she’d expected or hoped for. Where had he been all this time?

Ric cleared his throat, still looking down. ‘I wanted to come back to Drovers.’ He laced his fingers together. ‘But Dad was so angry. Reckoned I’d taken Mum’s side. And you know what your dad’s like. He hates my guts.’

‘Dad doesn’t live at Red Gums any more. He runs the produce store in town now.’

Ric looked at her sideways, with a faint grin. ‘Thanks for the tipoff.’

A tremor ran through her. God, he was handsome. ‘So that’s it?’ she said. ‘You didn’t want to face your father or mine? It would have taken more than that to keep me away from you.’

‘There was another reason.’ Ric turned away, unwilling to meet her gaze. ‘I heard you were with someone else.’ The silence stretched for so long that Ric eventually filled it. ‘So who runs Red Gums?’

‘I do,’ said Nina.

‘What, by yourself?’ He whistled through his teeth approvingly.

‘Mum and Dad help out when they can, of course . . . and Lockie.’

‘That’d be right,’ said Ric with a soft snort. ‘Bet it didn’t take him long after I left.’

Something about his tone made her snap. ‘You turn up out of the blue after fifteen years and now you’re jealous?’ Nina stood and paced the room, bristling with resentment, struggling for words. ‘You meant everything to me back then,’ she said, her voice rising. ‘The most important person in my life, my mate, my best friend . . . my . . . How do you think I felt when you just disappeared? And now you say you’ve been back for years? Good grief, Ric. At least tell me what you’ve been doing all this time.’

A soft voice came from the hallway. ‘Dad?’

Nina froze. A child stood there. A girl with large brown eyes and long dark hair, about nine years old.

The child took in the scene, sharp-eyed like a bird. She pointed at Nina. ‘Who’s she?’

‘This is my friend, Nina,’ said Ric. ‘Ah . . . Nina, meet Sophie, my . . . my daughter.’

Nina blinked stupidly. Whatever was he talking about? ‘It’s late,’ Ric said to the girl. ‘You should be in bed.’

Sophie stared at Nina, like she was trying to make up her mind about something. ‘That’s a pretty dress,’ she said. ‘You look like a princess.’

‘Thank you.’ Nina forced a smile, her words little more than a stammer. She ran a hand over her hair, and her stomach lurched alarmingly.

The girl slipped from the hall into the lounge, sat down on the couch and tucked skinny knees beneath her pony-print nightie. ‘I can’t sleep,’ she said. ‘There’s a ghost in my room.’

Nina nervously smoothed her gown. The room spun slowly. She felt as breathless as she’d been in the ballroom, but for a very different reason. She was drained, drained and sick. ‘I’d better go.’ She looked around for her bag.

Ric stood and laid a concerned hand on her arm. ‘We’ve all been drinking. How will you get to Kate’s?’

‘I’ll walk.’ The thought of traipsing miles in the dark, wearing high heels and a ball gown, wasn’t exactly appealing, but it was better than the alternative.

‘Are you leaving?’ asked Sophie. ‘Don’t you like it here?’

Nina ignored her and checked that her phone was in her bag. She could feel the girl’s eyes upon her.

‘I don’t like it here either,’ said Sophie. ‘I hate it.’

‘Go to bed, Sophie.’ Ric rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It’s one o’clock in the morning.’

‘I can’t.’ Sophie’s eyes flashed before brimming with silent tears. ‘I told you, there’s a ghost.’

Ric clasped his hands behind his head. Sophie hugged her knees, and looked so small and afraid that Nina stopped fumbling with her bag. ‘Where’s her mother?’

Ric looked as lost as Sophie. He headed for the kitchen, beckoning Nina to follow. She stood for a moment, bag still in hand before letting it slip to the floor and going after him. ‘Rachael’s in a psychiatric clinic,’ he said. ‘With depression. Her doctor got in touch and asked me to take Sophie for the holidays.’

‘Her doctor,’ said Nina, trying to put the pieces together. ‘You two aren’t together?’

He shook his head. ‘The thing with Rachael didn’t last long. We lost touch. She never told me about Sophie.’ He took a breath. ‘Nina . . .’

She cut in sharply. ‘When did you find out about her?’

‘About a month ago.’

‘Crikey, Ric. That’s some story.’

‘I’m going home to Donnalee,’ he said. ‘To sort things out with Dad and let him meet Sophie.’

‘You’re going home to introduce your daughter to your father.’ Nina still couldn’t make sense of it. Tiredness washed over her; the taste of champagne had turned sour.

‘I never —’ Ric began.

The girl appeared at the door, arms wrapped tightly around her. ‘Your dad’s going to take you back to bed,’ said Nina. ‘He’s very good at scaring away ghosts.’

Sophie pursed her lips in doubt. ‘Really? Will he stay as long as I want? Will you be here too, when I wake up?’

Nina rubbed her eyes. As betrayed as she felt, it wasn’t the girl’s fault. And why should she run away, when Ric was the one at fault? ‘Yes and yes,’ she told Sophie.

‘Will you have breakfast with me?’

‘I’m going to my friend’s.’

Ric’s eyes locked onto Nina’s. ‘I could make you breakfast.’

‘Yes,’ said Sophie. ‘Ric, I mean Dad, makes really good pancakes.’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’ Nina looked at him squarely. ‘I just can’t.’

‘Nina . . .’ His eyes were pleading. ‘There’s still more to talk about.’ When she didn’t answer he turned to Sophie. ‘Now’ – he took his daughter’s hand; she let him for a moment then shook him away – ‘how about we go do some ghost-busting?’

Nina gave a tight smile. ‘Goodnight, Sophie.’ Ric and his daughter disappeared down the hall.

Nina went to the bathroom, changed into the oversized T-shirt Dylan had left out for her, and collapsed on the couch, mind abuzz with all that had happened. Too many surprises for one evening. Too many questions still unanswered. Ric here, and with a daughter. It was a kick in the guts, in spite of the passage of time, in spite of what she and Lockie had now. Ric’s return had leapfrogged her back over the intervening years. It had opened up an old wound, as raw and painful as the day he’d left. She tried to let it go, but emotion trumped reason.

Nina wiped her face and nose with the bottom of Dylan’s T-shirt. Was that a footstep in the hall? She held her breath, sensing Ric’s presence in the darkened doorway. So close. Part of her wanted to hear him out, hear him justify his disloyalty. Part of her would slap him if he tried. She waited, a ball of tension in the gloom, but he didn’t appear. And despite exhaustion and all the booze, sleep was a long time coming.