The Home Paddock
Chapter One
Hughey Chalmers was that kind of guy. The town’s favourite butcher—well, technically the only one, but that’s beside the point—and the best friend anyone could ask for. The one who’d walk through fire to help you. The number one lieutenant of the Forest Gully Fire Brigade. Oh, and the one who offered a smile, willingly, freely. Every bloody time.
That was, until today.
The ocean on the opposite side of the road lapped the sand in soft waves as he walked towards the café, his usually straight shoulders now slouched, his head no longer held high. The effort to lift his lacklustre mood was too hard. Not even the warming winter sun shimmying over his face, or the thought of picking up a steaming hot latté, had him able to rouse a smile. Why?
Because the closer he got to the café, the lonelier he felt.
‘G’day, Hughey. Ripper start to the day, don’t you think?’ Graham Richardson—owner of the local General Store with his wife Nola—exited the café and raised his—Hughey would definitely call his choice of mug . . . interesting—reusable coffee cup in a cheerful greeting. ‘Miss Meg has me hooked on these mocha lattés. Wrap your lips around one, and you’ll never want to go back to a boring old latté!’
Hughey forced a smile and a nod. ‘Yeah, must give one a try . . . sometime.’
But would he? Since Kate Harris announced she was planning on leasing one of the empty shops in the strip for her Seaside Bouquet business, Hughey’s dream of opening a providore had loomed larger—and he hated to admit it, less likely—with every passing day. It wasn’t the idea that Kate might get the shop he wanted that worried him. Far from it.
It was the fear he might not get one at all.
Or dare he think it, never have one again.
They passed by one another, the street falling quiet once more, which was strange given the number of caravanning nomads that had been dropping into their little town since Kate had put Forest Gully back on the map.
Probably still curled up asleep, he mused, wishing he was too. The sight of what had been his butcher’s shop, now a pile of blackened rubble to his left, made his heart sink. He forced his gaze forward. He’d stood there, stared at it, and contemplated every damned idea he could to get things moving, but council approval was proving tiresome and frustrating.
And even though he knew what sort of reception he was about to get, Hughey Chalmers never quit without a fight—or at least a good dinky-die try.
For the twelve thousandth, six hundredth and forty-eighth time.
He drew in a steadying breath and reached for the café door.
The happy jingle of the doorbell made him pout, and he prepared himself for the dynamic—and completely expected reception—about to hit him. She hadn’t let him down yet.
Laughter drifted from the counter, and a relieved smile crossed his lips when he saw Kate’s back to him, her shoulders rising as she snorted with a laugh. Meg’s face was lit up like fairy lights as she attempted a woeful impression of Graham the moment he’d laid eyes on Margot Robbie in her oh-so-skimpy Barbie swimsuit perched atop his prized vintage 1952 Diamond T 520 tray-top truck at Hughey’s fundraiser. The man had all but swallowed his tongue, his eyes popping like marbles.
Hughey’s heart thumped at the sight of Meg looking so carefree, engaged, and . . . happy. It had been a long time since he’d seen her that way, the weight of the world normally sitting snugly on her petite shoulders. Kate had been the breath of fresh air the town had well and truly needed, and Hughey liked to think Kate had come to Forest Gully especially for Meg, even though Gus—his best mate and Kate’s boyfriend—would strongly disagree. He sure as hell knew he wasn’t the one to do that for her, despite his years of painstaking patience and knightly efforts whenever she needed a hand. When the two women were together, it was like the air around them fizzed. Would there ever be a day she’d light up like that for him?
He wasn’t going to hold his breath. But was that about to stop him?
Probably not. He shrugged away his vain hope, pressed his lips tight, and strode towards probable doom.
And his heart melted just that little bit more as he saw it, her glowing face morph into the more familiar scowl that seemed to be her own special version just for him. It should have disappointed him. Instead, warmth flooded his chest. She could try as hard as she liked. There was no way he’d give up on her, no matter how many roadblocks she managed to wedge between them.
Kate stopped laughing at Meg’s expression and turned, her eyes crinkling around the edges in that knowing smile she was renowned for. ‘Hughey! Surely you can do a better impersonation of Graham.’ She urged him with her eyes, and when she turned back to Meg, the unmissable head shake and narrowed-eyes death-glare kept Hughey’s impersonations at bay.
Despite himself, a low smile curved his lips. He wanted to. He really did. Give him half a chance at taking off Graham and he’d normally thrive on it.
Except this time, or any other time when one look from Meg you’ll-never-claw-your-way-into-my-heart Sommers told him he’d be a smarter man if he let the woman have her way. Well, at least for today.
‘Ah, your usual, Hughey?’ Meg’s monotone voice settled on him like a familiar—if prickly—woollen blanket as she fired up the coffee machine, grinding the beans, tamping them in the group and hitting the button that sent the hot water through the grounds. ‘Can I interest you in a reusable mug?’ Her eyebrows danced over him, making his insides quiver. A true coffee goddess, he mused, mesmerised by the soft glow her cheeks already wore for so early in the day. Either he was going to win points by saying yes, or he was going to go down like a sinking ship. But with Meg? Once a risk-taker, always a risk-taker.
‘Nah, thanks. I’d say yes but I don’t reckon I could convince Gus to embrace the pink, hallucinating look.’ He eyed Kate’s cup with caution.
Kate giggled, sipping from her own reusable mug that had the makings of a Seaside Bouquet signature design—if you stretched your imagination. Hughey reached for his coffee, took a sip as he waved his card over the EFTPOS machine, picked up Gus’s, smiled politely, and turned to leave. The idea had merit, and he wasn’t the fussy kind, but he’d need something a bit more blue or even grey, maybe with a car on it to convince him this mug idea was one he could take up.
‘Oh, Hughey,’ Kate called, lifting her mug as she caught his attention. ‘Could you keep a lamb roast aside for me? I’ll drop by soon to pick it up. Gus is guaranteed to forget, even though I’ve texted him three times this morning.’ She shook her head despairingly. ‘And you’re both still good for tea tonight, right?’
Kate looked from Hughey to Meg expectantly.
Hughey watched Meg, reading her like the proverbial blank page. Her expression gave absolutely nothing away. Not a that-sounds-really-nice, or—dare he wish for it— I’d-like-to-catch-up smile. Okay, that might have been pushing it, but seriously, he’d been trying to get her attention since they were in kindergarten.
Back then, she’d just hung out with her monkey bars friends, doing spins that made him dizzy just watching. In primary school, Harvey—his older brother—had told him that to impress a girl, he needed to get her attention first. He’d thought his suggestion of putting a mouse in her lunch box was perfect. She loved animals, even if the little beasts did smell like stinky corn chips.
So, he’d given it a whirl.
And the result?
The way she’d jumped up and screeched his name in front of the whole class, well, it had suggested an emphatic no. Then he’d watched her get marched to the principal’s office for unruly classroom disruption.
He swallowed a still somewhat guilty smile at the memory. She wasn’t any different now. Brash, determined, and fearless—some might say dog-headed—in her drive to see her café succeed at all costs. All the things he loved about her. The only thing he wanted to change—and hadn’t—was the tiny fact she didn’t want him in her life, or anywhere within the vicinity of her, despite his gallant efforts.
‘Ah, yeah, sure. See you then.’ Hughey pushed open the door with his elbow, stepping outside. The street was still quiet. Except for . . .
His face screwed up in puzzlement as he took in the a black and white cat who was staring at him like he was ready for his next meal . . . should Hughey feel obliged in any way, shape or form to provide one. Tail sashaying backwards and forward over the pavement, it eyed him with something that looked suspiciously like expectation. Or was it knowing? Understanding?
Mystified, Hughey glanced left, then right, scanning the length of the street to work out where this feline could have come from. When he turned back, the cat was still watching him. They regarded each other with matching, narrow-eyed intensity.
Did this cat think it knew him?
Not many residents of Forest Gully owned a cat, and he’d never seen one roaming the main street before—at least not one as well-conditioned as this one seemed to be. He raised a curious eyebrow.
The cat watched him back.
As he stepped to his left, heading for Lexi’s bakery—where he shared “office space” while he waited for news about rebuilding his shop after the faulty electrical-plug fire—the cat followed him with a swagger that had him glancing discreetly from over his shoulder.