Page 77 of Outback Secrets
Chapter Twenty-three
Liam didn’t sleep well that night, but for different reasons than usual. Henri’s absence made his apartment feel eerily quiet and much bigger. Sheila had whined all night, making him think she too must be missing their house guest, or maybe she was still in a mood with him for yelling at her earlier that day. He’d given her a couple of treats after dinner and lots of cuddles to try and make up for it, then they’d both slept in his bed, between sheets that were now infused with the scent of Henri. At first, he’d imagined her lying there beside him. Thoughts of her naked body and exactly what they would have got up to that afternoon if they hadn’t been rudely interrupted filled his head.
But after a while he started visualising her lying in another bed fifteen kilometres away. Was she awake? Was she in pain?
And then it really hit him: Henri had broken her ankle!
He sat up in bed, startling Sheila awake and she barked.
Would this mean Henri couldn’t go back to work yet? Would that mean she’d stay longer in town?
Eventually, at about six in the morning, Liam threw off the covers and gave up. Luckily after too many years of sleepless nights, he was used to functioning on less than full energy levels.
Thank God for coffee, he thought, as he switched on his machine. After caffeine and a few pieces of toast, he and Sheila headed down to the beach for their morning swim. This was more to pass the time until it was a reasonable hour to go visiting than because he needed the exercise, but being in the water wasn’t the same without Henri.
On his way back to the pub, Liam made a detour to collect some flowers from Dolce’s garden, then he spent a couple of hours working in his studio before showering and finally allowing himself to head out to the Forwards’. He’d never been there before; in fact over the ten years he’d been in the Bay, he’d only visited a handful of actual homes. Mostly he kept to himself, using the pub as an excuse to avoid social invitations. Still, he had a general idea of the direction most people lived—including the Forwards—and when a large wooden sign with ‘Bungara Springs’ printed in bright red and currently bordered in gold tinsel loomed into view on the side of the road, he knew he’d come to the right place. He turned down the gravel drive and bumped along, passing sheep grazing in the dry paddocks on either side, until he came to a fork in the track. Thankfully, another wooden sign pointed him in the direction of ‘Fred and Fiona’s Place’.
He smiled sadly as he thought of how Henri must feel whenever she saw her father’s name there.
Not much further and he came upon a large, red-brick farmhouse with a paradise of a garden out the front. On either side of a cobblestone path were two jacaranda trees in full bloom, and there were numerous garden beds overflowing with native bushes and others a contrast with bright-coloured roses. Liam pulled up just outside the white picket fence that bordered the homestead. He plucked the flowers and a box of chocolates he’d picked up at the IGA off the passenger seat and then headed for the gate. Two old border collies wandered over to him from where they’d been resting under a jacaranda when he started up the path towards the house.
‘Hey there, buddies,’ he said, pausing a moment to let them sniff him. Their tails wagged furiously but he wasn’t sure if their excitement was for him or they could smell Sheila on his clothes.
When they’d calmed a little, he continued on and climbed the three steps onto the verandah. His heart pinched at the sight of the tinsel wound along the posts from one end to the other. Like many of the houses in town, it was covered in tiny lights and he could imagine all too well how festive it would look at night, but thankfully it didn’t have the same effect during the day. A large wreath similar to the one Henri had made for him hung on the front door and he tried not to focus on it as he raised his hand to use the knocker.
Instead, he focused on the other things that made this farmhouse exactly how he imagined one should be. The pairs of boots lined up beside the door, the two old cane armchairs, a box of firewood and—
The door peeled open to reveal Fiona Forward.
‘Hello.’ She looked from his face to the flowers and back to his face, smiling brightly. ‘I’ve been expecting you. Come on in.’
Liam blinked. ‘You were?’
‘Well, of course,’ she replied, ushering him into the house. ‘I imagine you were busy yesterday evening, but I knew you couldn’t stay away from my girl today. She’s in her bedroom feeling sorry for herself, but I’m sure your arrival will cheer her up.’
Fiona started down a long wide hallway with high ceilings and dozens of framed family photos hanging on the walls, but Liam didn’t have time to look at them.
‘I didn’t take my shoes off,’ he called as he hurried after her.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. A little dirt never hurt anyone.’ She paused in front of a door that had multicoloured wooden letters stuck to it, spelling out ‘Matilda’ and ‘Henrietta’.
‘Visitor for you, darling,’ Fiona said as she pushed it open.
Henri looked up from where she was lying on one of two single beds on either side of the room. Her eyes flashed with surprise. ‘Liam?’
‘I’ll leave you lovebirds alone.’ Fiona all but pushed him into the room and pulled the door shut behind them.
‘Hey.’ He smiled at Henri—she did indeed look sorry for herself—and then glanced to her feet. The left one was bare, but the right was bandaged and propped up on three pillows. There were wooden crutches leaning against the bed. ‘Heard you were in the wars. What exactly happened?’
‘I tripped over a hose,’ she admitted, then pointed to the flowers still in his hand. ‘Did you steal those from Eileen’s garden?’
‘What, these?’ He glanced down at the colourful bouquet. ‘No. No stealing necessary. They’re from Dolce’s garden and she was more than happy to oblige.’
‘Are they for me?’
‘Nah.’ He couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘They’re for your mum, but she didn’t give me a chance to give them to her yet.’
Henri crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Good, because I don’t like flowers anyway.’