Morgan's Law (4 page)

The last thing she'd expected to find that afternoon when she came home early from work, her head throbbing and joints aching as her body rebelled against her refusal to call in sick that morning, was to discover the man she lived with—whom she trusted—in bed with a woman . . . the
same
bed they'd shared for just over a year.

She'd thought she knew Giles. They'd been together for two years—she'd
lived
with him for a year—and yet here she was, staring at him and seeing only a stranger.

‘Sarah.'

She'd been frozen, her heart in denial over what her eyes were showing her, but at his startled gasp, she'd launched into action, turning away, almost staggering down the hallway towards the front door.

She remembered numbly gathering together her handbag, coat and keys while she fumbled with the doorknob in her hurry to escape. She heard Giles calling out to her as he tripped over sheets and the pile of discarded clothing they'd left at the door of the bedroom, but she couldn't face him just then, her emotions were a jumble of shock, anger and disbelief. She hadn't even bothered to pull the front door shut behind her, running down the hall and into the elevator, desperate to get as far away as possible.

Later that evening after booking into a motel, she'd sat staring out the window at the traffic below, too exhausted to cry; too numb to even manage to work up the outrage she thought she'd be feeling. For the last month she'd been pushing herself too hard. She just didn't have time to be sick! There was too much work to catch up on, work that had been piling up while she'd been away, but this was the last straw. She was tired, miserable and lonely. What she longed for was to pick up the phone and call Gran, to sit and listen to that familiar voice down the line telling her all about the annual church fundraiser and cake stalls she'd baked for that week. What her neighbours were up to and how many eggs her chooks were laying . . . ordinary, everyday things that made her feel as though she were home, even though miles and miles separated them.

She missed her gran.

Dragging her handbag across the big motel bed, Sarah had pulled out the envelope she'd received a few weeks earlier from Gran's solicitor and reread the letter inside. When she'd finished, she knew what she had to do.

Back outside in the bright sunshine it was as though being in Negallan was like taking a step back in time. If it wasn't for the four-wheel-drive utes and the occasional person talking on a mobile, you wouldn't know you were in the twenty-first century.

Dusty vehicles were angle-parked along the street; dogs sat patiently in the backs of utes and four-wheel drives; people wandered in and out of shops, going about their business in an unhurried manner, often stopping to gossip. It was like being on a different planet after the hustle and bustle of London.

A passing mud-splattered ute pulled up in the middle of the main street and Sarah gaped as the driver chatted to a guy in another ute who'd been heading in the opposite direction.

‘Nope, we're definitely not in Kansas any more,' Sarah murmured beneath her breath.

Three

Sarah had lain down to take a quick nap before dinner. It had been so long since she'd felt normal. Where was the Sarah with the boundless energy who could run on adrenaline for days when her work life was ridiculously hectic? Maybe it was just the jetlag and all the driving she'd been doing lately, or maybe it was the underlying grief she still carried around with her. Maybe it was just her body telling her it was time to slow down a bit. There was only so long a person could continue to ignore their body's need for a balanced diet, plenty of rest and time to relax. Whatever the reason for it was, she was tired of being tired! When she awoke later, it was almost 9 pm.

Blinking, her gaze fell upon the urn on the table across the room.
Why did you make me bring you to this place?

What am I supposed to be looking for?

Pulling on her jeans and a fresh T-shirt, Sarah, now wide awake, decided to go downstairs for some fresh air.

As she made her way down the staircase, she heard a rattling of glasses and peeked around the corner to find Tash cleaning.

‘Hi Sarah. Are you okay?' asked Tash. ‘I went up earlier to see if you wanted dinner but there was no answer when I knocked. I figured you'd be pretty wiped out.'

Sarah noticed for the first time that Tash had dark circles beneath her eyes and premature worry lines were already beginning to leave their mark on her brow.

‘Yeah, I was. Sorry about that. I didn't mean to sleep so long.'

‘I saved you some dinner—thought you might be hungry.' From beneath the bar she pulled out a plate of cling-wrapped sandwiches and handed them over to Sarah.

‘Actually, I am. Thanks for that.' Sarah smiled gratefully.

Tash nodded and gave the bar a final wipe-down. ‘It was a slow night so we closed early. I'm just about to have a drink—would you like one?'

‘I wouldn't say no,' said Sarah.

‘Great.' Tash took two glasses from beneath the bar and grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge. ‘Come with me.'

Sarah followed Tash out through a screen door at the rear of the pub into a small courtyard. A round table with two outdoor chairs sat in the centre of a paved area with white stones spread among colourful cacti and hardy-looking leafy plants.

‘Hey, this is really nice,' said Sarah.

‘It's my little sanctuary,' said Tash, pouring Sarah a glass of wine and handing it to her. After filling her own glass, she leaned back in her chair and gave a tired sigh.

‘So you live here? In the pub, I mean?' asked Sarah, biting into her sandwich.

‘Yeah. I manage it for my father. He moved away last year.'

‘Oh,' said Sarah. There was something in Tash's tone that suggested there was more to the story. ‘Have you lived here all your life?'

‘Yep,' Tash replied, taking a long sip of her wine and then tipping her face up to the moonlit sky.

‘And I thought
I
worked long hours,' said Sarah.

‘What do you do?' Tash asked.

‘I'm an account executive with an advertising agency in London,' said Sarah, suddenly pensive. ‘At least, I was when I left there five days ago.'

‘You think you won't still have your job when you go back?' Tash asked.

‘To be honest, I don't know if I even want to go back, which really surprises me.'

‘How long have you been there for?'

‘A bit over ten years now.'

‘That's a long time to be away from home.'

Sarah nodded. It was a long time, though it had never felt like that before. In fact, it seemed like only yesterday that she'd been a bubbly, energetic twenty-year-old, ready to take on the world. Looking back now, she realised her fearless, single-minded plan could be seen as rash and irresponsible in more mature eyes. She'd saved for two years solid to get the airfare to London while studying at the same time. Within a week of receiving her working visa, she'd set off on her great adventure.

Sarah had had no doubt she'd find a job—if all else failed she'd do bar work—but her dream lay in advertising and, through either sheer luck or pure dogged persistence, she finally managed to get a start with Brandl & McBride. Starting out, she'd been prepared to do whatever it took and spent the first few years learning the industry from the bottom up, and it had paid off. She knew the business inside out, and those early years had a lot to do with her swift climb up the ladder.

‘Do you have a man?' asked Tash.

‘Not any more,' said Sarah.

‘Uh-oh, what happened?' said Tash, refilling their glasses.

‘The usual
Days of our Lives
drama. He started sleeping with someone else,' said Sarah as though it didn't still sting every time she thought about it.

‘Bugger,' said Tash.

‘What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?'

‘I grew up with everyone around here. Most of the decent ones were married straight out of high school and the rest left town long ago.'

‘So why did you stay?'

‘This is my home. Someone had to stay and run this place,' said Tash before deflecting the conversation back to Sarah, asking her about her time overseas.

After an account of her life in London and other travellingshe'd done, Sarah asked, ‘Have you ever been overseas?'

‘No, and I don't think I really want to,' said Tash.

Sarah looked at her in surprise. ‘You don't want to travel at all?'

‘Not really. I like it here.'

‘Well, it has a kind of . . . charm about it, I guess,' Sarah conceded politely. ‘Still, don't you ever want to go and see Paris or London or, I don't know, climb Machu Picchu?'

‘Match-u-pitch what?'

‘You know, the Incas . . . in Peru?' said Sarah, then waved her hand dismissively. ‘Doesn't matter, the point is there's so much to see outside Australia.'

‘As I said, I like this place and I love Australia,' said Tash, lifting the bottle to see if Sarah wanted another refill. When Sarah shook her head, Tash put the cork back into the bottle. ‘We've lost too many people from around here already. I'm not sure how many more we can afford to lose,' she said softly.

They were silent for a while, until Tash said, ‘Well, I have an early start tomorrow, I better get some sleep. Stay out here as long as you like though and feel free to finish off that bottle.'

The wine had worked its magic on Sarah and she was feeling relaxed and sleepy. ‘No, I'm heading up now too. Thanks for the wine. It was nice to have someone to talk to.'

‘Yeah, it was,' Tash agreed. ‘Hey, I meant to say, I thought of someone who might be able to help with that photo. Mick Howle's lived here for donkey's years and he's a favourite customer of mine. I'll introduce you tomorrow. He usually comes in for a beer early.'

‘That would be great, thanks,' said Sarah, then wished Tash goodnight and climbed the stairs, her spirits lifting a little at the thought of finding some answers.

As Sarah washed her face and brushed her teeth she thought about Tash. She sensed there was something weighing her down, but she was such a friendly, kind person that she couldn't imagine what it might be.

The next morning Sarah awoke to a soft knocking on the French doors. Edging across the room, she peeked out and saw Tiny sitting at the small table on the verandah and sipping coffee, a spare cup on the table next to him.

Scrambling into jeans and yesterday's T-shirt, she pulled her hair back into a short ponytail and slipped outside quietly, mindful of the early hour and that others would still be sleeping.

A mist hovered over the street, but the air was cool and fresh and Sarah felt wide awake and rested.

‘Morning, Tiny,' she said.

‘Wasn't sure if you'd be awake or not,' he replied, handing her a coffee.

Sarah's mouth watered at the tantalising aroma. ‘You're a life saver,' she said after her first sip of proper coffee in what felt like forever. That was one of the good things about living in the city—you could always get great coffee. ‘How long have you been in Negallan?' she asked.

‘About three months now. They sent me up from Toowoomba. I do eleven days on and go home for three,' he said, getting to his feet. ‘Well, better get ready for work.'

‘Oh. Okay then. Thanks for the coffee,' she said, draining her cup and handing it back to him. His conversational skills needed some work, but considering he'd supplied her with her first real coffee since leaving Sydney, she supposed she could forgive him that.

Left alone on the verandah, Sarah savoured the fresh morning air for a while longer before slipping back into her room, where the divine smell of cooking breakfast reminded her she hadn't eaten dinner last night.

Today she was determined to find some answers to all the questions she had about her grandmother. But first there was a huge plate of bacon and eggs with her name on it that needed attending to.