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  At this, Anton smiled. ‘A migratory bird? Or pigeon voyageur?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You know – the bird that flies straight to home by the fastest route.’

  ‘Oh, right. We call them homing pigeons.’

  ‘Homing pigeon,’ Anton repeated, dropping the h and making it sound French and sexy and reminding her of all the things she would miss about him.

  ‘I’ve left stacks of my stuff behind and for only one reason. I’m coming back.’

  ‘Excellent,’ he said at last, with a smile she was so going to miss.

  At the airport gate, she clung to him, aware that she was walking away from so much – not just her hot new boyfriend, but her new world, her brave new self.

  Anton kissed her and murmured sweet, adorable things to her in French and even though she didn’t understand all the words, his voice was soothing and gorgeous, winding through her like pink smoke from a magician’s spell.

  On impulse Bella reached behind her neck and unclasped the gold chain carrying a horseshoe charm that she always wore. She pressed it into Anton’s hand.

  He looked down at it with obvious surprise, then his dark brows drew into a frown as he rubbed the little horseshoe between his thumb and forefinger. He shook his head. ‘Why are you giving this to me, Bella? You always wear it. It’s important to you.’

  It used to be important.

  That thought caused a swift, painful sting, bringing memories she was still trying to forget. ‘I know it’s safe with you and I’m leaving it as proof that I’m coming back.’

  Anton was still frowning.

  ‘You might think it’s totally high school and clichéd, but honest, Anton, it makes me feel better.’

  Sliding her arms around his neck, she kissed him again. I have to come back here. I can’t stay at home.

  She didn’t dare to ask herself why.

  Anton’s eyes glistened as he gently traced her cheek and then her jaw with the backs of his fingers. ‘I didn’t want to say too much – I thought I would make it harder for you if I told you how much I will miss you.’

  Now her throat was sharp. She forced herself to speak. ‘A girl never minds hearing that.’

  A voice in a microphone spoke rapidly in French.

  ‘That’s a final call for your flight,’ Anton said. ‘You don’t want to miss it.’

  Pressing a finger to his lips, Bella managed a brave smile. ‘In a while, crocodile.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘That’s Aussie speak for see you later.’ It was another of her dad’s favourites. During her childhood she must have heard him say it a thousand times, but if she thought about that now she’d start to cry.

  Turning abruptly, she marched to the gate and handed over her boarding pass and passport to be checked. She didn’t look back.

  2.

  ‘My niece will be here soon.’

  ‘And you’d like me to leave.’

  ‘I think it would be best, Michael. Bella’s bound to be upset.’

  Michael Allingham downed the last of his scotch, set the crystal glass on a silver coaster on the coffee table and, with an easy familiarity, stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, not quite touching Liz.

  She’d welcomed his visit as a pleasant interlude after a hectic day of trying to reach Bella, of cancelling concert commitments – accompanied by her agent’s anguished wringing of hands – and then packing for Australia.

  ‘So,’ Michael said. ‘Here we go with yet another goodbye.’

  Liz gave a soft laugh. ‘At least we’re used to goodbyes.’

  His fingers skimmed the back of her neck with the delicious, feather-light touch she knew so well. ‘But this time you’re not just zipping off to the continent for a night or two. Australia’s such a damn long way from here.’

  ‘I haven’t been back there in ages.’

  ‘No. Not since I’ve known you.’

  ‘Three years.’

  ‘Best years of my life.’

  Liz closed her eyes before Michael could see her reaction. It bothered her that he seemed to care so much. Too much.

  Then she felt his arms around her, his warm lips on her neck, on her chin, her mouth. They kissed hungrily, as they always did. But this evening their kiss was still gathering steam when Liz pulled back with a sigh. She had to call a halt.

  She really didn’t want Michael to be here when Bella arrived. The explanations could be awkward and that was an extra difficulty she didn’t need tonight. Not when she and Bella were already so dreadfully upset about Peter’s heart attack.

  ‘Yes, yes, I know. I’m leaving.’ Michael got to his feet, turned to the large mirror above the mantelpiece and checked that his tie was straight. He ran a lean hand down his business shirt, smoothing it and making sure it was tucked neatly into his dark trousers.

  Liz walked with him to the front door.

  ‘I really am very sorry about your brother, Liz, but I’m sure the Aussie outback breeds them tough.’

  ‘Of course it does. Look at me.’ She managed a small smile.

  ‘I hope he’s in much better shape by the time you arrive.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m going to stay positive.’

  But it was so hard. She couldn’t bear the thought of Peter being so ill. It didn’t seem possible that her horse-riding, cattle-wrangling big brother was now clinging to life by a fragile thread.

  ‘You’ll have to try not to worry,’ Michael said.

  ‘Easier said than done.’

  ‘That’s true. Still . . . ’

  ‘I know. It’s good advice.’ If for no other reason, Liz would have to be strong for Bella’s sake.

  Retrieving his coat from a hallstand, Michael shrugged into it and Liz opened the front door, letting in a blast of cold air.

  ‘I hope it doesn’t snow tonight.’ She peered out into the chilly darkness. ‘The last thing we want is to find Heathrow closed.’

  ‘You’re worrying again.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m stopping, right now.’

  ‘Good girl.’ Dropping a final kiss on her cheek, he stepped into the cold night. Wind whipped at his coat collar as he turned and went down the steps.

  Liz closed the door quickly, as she always did. She never liked to watch Michael hurry home to his wife.

  Bella shivered on the front steps of the house in Godfrey Street as she pressed the doorbell. Throughout the journey from France and across London, she’d been hanging out for this moment. She just wanted to see Liz.

  Liz was family.

  The door opened, spilling light into the frosty gloom. And there was her aunt – tall and bony, with haywire dark curls, and as elegant as ever in a long red woollen dress.

  ‘Darling.’ Liz held out her arms.

  ‘It’s so good to see you.’ Bella stumbled forward and burst into tears.

  ‘Sorry.’ Bella reached into her coat pocket for tissues. ‘I’m okay, really. I just can’t bear to think of him––’

  ‘I know, I know, darling. But we must believe he’ll pull through again.’

  ‘Yes.’ Bella nodded, blew her nose, took a deep breath and smiled. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

  ‘You, too.’ Liz smiled fondly. ‘Come on through. Dump your stuff anywhere for now. Would you like some supper? I thought something light. Soup perhaps.’

  ‘Soup would be perfect.’

  Bella adored Liz’s tall, narrow house with a kitchen in the basement and bedrooms at the top. The street-level sitting room was gorgeous and gracious with Tuscan-pink walls and pale carpets that were a perfect foil for the beautiful artwork and furniture, including Liz’s grand piano in the far corner.

  The house seemed perfectly right for her aunt, a home in the truest sense. And Liz had managed this without the usual accessories of a husband or children.

  Bella hoped to feel settled and at home, somewhere . . . one day . . . She had no idea where it would be, but the longing nagged at her again as she followed Li
z downstairs to the dining room, next to the kitchen, where they ate chicken soup with thick pieces of toast for dipping.

  ‘This is divine,’ Bella said.

  ‘Yes, it’s yummy, isn’t it? I didn’t make it of course.’

  Bella grinned. With so many fabulous stores conveniently close on the King’s Road, her aunt managed to throw together wonderful meals and dinner parties in a blink, despite her demanding, high-powered life as a concert pianist. All Liz had to do was buy pre-prepared gourmet food and heat it up. It was another of the many wonderful advantages of not living in the North Queensland outback.

  They voted to go to bed early to try to catch a few hours sleep before the taxi arrived. Nevertheless, hot chocolate and a bedtime chat had become an essential first-night ritual whenever Bella stayed at Godfrey Street. And Liz cherished this time with her niece.

  Now Bella was sitting in bed in borrowed pyjamas to save the hassle of unpacking. With her face scrubbed and her light brown hair brushed and shining and tumbling about her shoulders, she looked much younger than her twenty-three years.

  Twenty-three. Where on earth had the years gone? Liz had been in her thirties when Bella was born and she could so vividly remember Peter’s excited phone call to tell her that her niece had arrived.

  She’s the prettiest little thing, Liz. We’re calling her Bella Elizabeth.

  She’d been incredibly touched that Peter and Virginia had given their daughter her name. She’d tried not to let it influence her emotions, but she’d always felt especially close to Bella and she’d been delighted when the girl had chosen to come abroad.

  ‘It didn’t feel selfish before,’ Bella said, snapping Liz out of her reverie.

  ‘What’s that? What didn’t feel selfish?’

  ‘Being over here and staying away. It felt important to me. The right thing to do.’

  ‘It has been the right thing for you, Bella. You mustn’t feel guilty now just because your father’s ill. You’ll drive yourself crazy with that kind of thinking. I’m sure you did the right thing coming over here. You needed to do it. I felt the same at your age.’

  ‘But you came here to study music.’

  Liz shrugged. ‘I might have left home with slightly different goals, but in our own ways we both needed to escape.’

  ‘Escape?’

  The very thought seemed to appal Bella.

  ‘It’s not a crime,’ Liz said defensively. ‘It’s perfectly normal for young people to stretch their wings and leave the nest.’

  ‘Yes, well . . . I wanted to broaden my outlook.’ The girl sounded self-righteous now.

  ‘Very commendable.’

  Bella smiled as if she knew she’d been caught out, but then a hunted look came into her clear green eyes and Liz realised, with some dismay, that her niece’s reasons for living abroad were probably as complicated and fraught as her own. And by staying away they’d probably both avoided facing up to their pasts.

  3.

  The cabin lights were dimmed and while a few fortunate passengers slept, others watched movies on tiny screens or tried to read. The flight attendants made a final round of the cabin with bottles of water, then vanished. A long, long night in the air stretched ahead.

  Liz was a seasoned traveller and managed to sleep. Bella tried valiantly to follow her example, but she probably tried too hard. Neither the glass of wine with dinner nor the monotonous hum of the plane’s engines could soothe her. Inevitably, her mind turned to worrying about her dad . . .

  Please, please be okay.

  She remembered his face – the affectionate sparkle in his grey-green eyes when he smiled, the shape of his hands, squarish and rough from hard outdoor work. The warmth of his voice with its slow Gulf Country drawl . . .

  His deep, belly-rumbling laugh . . .

  One of her earliest memories was of being up in the saddle in front of her father with his arm holding her safe against him. Amazingly she could still recall the solid strength of his body against her back and the thrill of being so high off the ground, the perfect combination of feeling secure and excited at the same time.

  Her father was a good man . . . quiet . . . slow to anger, gentle . . . but strong.

  Oh, help.

  She mustn’t start blubbing on the plane.

  You have to be okay, Dad. I really need you to be okay. Please, please . . .

  With an effort, Bella switched her thoughts from her father to Anton. But she’d barely begun to recall all the things she liked about her French boyfriend when, out of the blue, she thought about . . .

  Gabe.

  Thud.

  She always reacted badly whenever Gabe Mitchell snuck into her head, which still happened far too frequently.

  She couldn’t believe he was muscling his way in now, shattering her pleasant thoughts of Anton. Although the sad truth was Gabe was always there, lurking. A ghost from her past. An unhappy dream that wouldn’t let go.

  Despite time and distance and Bella’s best efforts to forget, her mind was like a scratched CD, stuck in one spot, recalling memories from their past. She’d known Gabe all her life, so there were happy, funny memories from childhood, blissfully romantic ones from later, and then the distressing memories, including that stupid night at the Gidgee Springs ball. And its heartbreaking aftermath.

  She’d relived those events over and over.

  The memories arrived at the worst possible moments, throwing up sickening reminders of the disdain and disapproval in Gabe’s watchdog grey eyes.

  There’s nothing for you here. I haven’t got time for you and your nonsense.

  Now, as their plane sped homewards, Bella couldn’t deny that Gabe Mitchell was a major part of the reason she’d stayed so happily overseas. Putting herself in a different hemisphere had been the surest way to get over him.

  And yet here she was on her way home almost two years later and still having to work hard to erase him from her memory.

  With next to no success.

  Damn it.

  For pity’s sake, she’d already wasted a good chunk of her life on the guy. She’d expended far too much energy on girlish yearning and hoping and dreaming. Annoyingly, those childish dreams about a girl’s first love were the worst kind. The most poignant and lasting. The ones that cut the deepest.

  Which was probably why she still regularly woke in a cold sweat, believing that she’d wrecked her life.

  So. Bloody. Ridiculous.

  A groan broke from Bella. She couldn’t believe she’d let it out, it just slipped from her and her aunt stirred beside her.

  ‘You all right, Belle?’

  ‘Yes. I’m fine,’ she whispered, shooting a quick glance around the nearby passengers, hoping she hadn’t disturbed them. ‘Sorry I woke you.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Liz leaned closer and said softly, ‘Try not to worry too much, darling.’

  Bella nodded, yawned and closed her eyes with fresh deter­mination. Even if she couldn’t sleep, she was not going to waste another millimetre of headspace on useless memories. In reality she’d moved on ages ago, and since she’d left Australia she’d changed in just about every way possible.

  Why wasn’t that easier to remember?

  Arriving in Singapore was a boost. There wasn’t enough time to leave the airport, but Liz and Bella definitely felt as if they were a big step closer to home. They only had to look out through the terminal’s windows to see walls of bright-pink bougainvillea and palm trees waving against a sultry blue sky.

  The smell of spice hung in the air, too, and people were dressed for the tropics in cottons and linens with lots of white and bright splashes of lime or orange, colours not regularly seen in wintry London.

  Bella put a call through to her mother, but couldn’t get an answer, so she tried Luke.

  ‘Hey, Bellaroo!’

  It had been such a long time since she’d heard her brother’s cheery voice, or the nickname he’d given her when they were kids. She couldn’t help smiling.

/>   ‘How’s the flight?’ Luke asked. ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘Singapore.’ She was almost too scared to ask, ‘How’s Dad?’

  But the news was good, or better, at least. Peter was still in intensive care, but his condition was a little more stable. He was holding his own.

  ‘That’s a relief,’ Bella said. ‘And I guess we’ll see you in another twelve hours or so. We have to change planes in Brisbane.’

  ‘Have a safe flight, Bells.’

  In the plane again, the northern coastline of Australia eventually appeared as a line on the horizon, shimmering in a heat haze.

  Looking down as they sped on, cruising above the red plains of the Northern Territory, Bella saw the tiny dots that marked the rooftops of a remote homestead and its outbuildings, and then the snaking line of trees that followed the course of a creek over endless, pale paddocks.

  ‘Mullinjim would look just like that from the air,’ she said.

  ‘Mmm,’ murmured Liz, casting a hasty sideways glance at the view.

  ‘How long is it since you’ve been home?’

  ‘About three years.’

  ‘No, I mean properly home to Mullinjim.’

  ‘Oh.’ An anxious smile twisted Liz’s mouth. ‘I – I’m not sure.’

  Her aunt’s evasiveness was puzzling. ‘I can’t ever remember you coming to Mullinjim, actually. We’ve always gone to Townsville or to Brisbane to see you.’

  ‘I’ve always been busy with concerts and commitments. The chamber music festival. That sort of thing.’

  Bella shrugged, accepting this excuse, although she still found it puzzling that her aunt hadn’t been to her home in something like thirty years. She could remember her mother muttering about it and her dad defending his sister’s absence, and she’d sensed it was a bit of a sore point between her parents. She knew her dad must have missed Liz. He was very fond of her.

  Bella couldn’t imagine being away from the bush for so long. This morning, she was feeling sentimental about it after just two years.

  When she was little, her ambition had always been to live forever on a cattle station, just as her family had for four generations. But she hadn’t wanted to simply look after the homestead and become a gracious hostess like her mother. She’d wanted to work with the cattle.