Someone Like You (24 page)

Back on her own turf, she’d swung into action. Anna had taken him to the hospital where he’d been admitted into Emergency the night of the accident. She’d pulled a favour and he was able to meet the paramedics who’d cared for him and one of the doctors who’d treated him to hear first hand how badly he’d been hurt.

Somehow he’d blocked all that out. He hadn’t wanted to think about any of it. The chopper ride to the hospital. The shopping list of injuries: severe internal trauma. A lacerated liver. Damage to his spleen. A fractured clavicle. Broken ribs. A broken nose. A broken leg. He’d been placed into an induced coma.

Jesus, if he heard anyone else had been that badly hurt, he’d think the poor bastard would be lucky to be alive. And when he’d heard it all, everything that had happened, it hit him.
That was me. And I’m still alive
.

I’m lucky to be alive
.

In the months after the accident he’d thought that getting as far away from the truth would be the best thing; that if he didn’t know what had actually happened, he’d be better off. But now he felt strangely lighter from knowing all the horrific details. He’d been through hell. No wonder he was still feeling it. Simply knowing what had happened washed away some of the blame he’d felt for his depression, the feeling that he didn’t deserve to feel that way, the guilt he carried that someone else had died in that crash.

I’m lucky to be alive
.

When other people had said it, it had sounded so pat, like a cruel joke, the sort of thing they pronounce when they don’t know what else to say in the face of such hideous circumstances. When they have no understanding of what you’re going through. And none of those words from others had helped him. He hadn’t honestly started to feel lucky until the past month. Since Elizabeth started showing up on his doorstep. Since they’d started working together, spending time together. Since they’d made love.

What had Elizabeth said that was so profound? You just have to get up every day, brush your teeth and hope for an ordinary day. Not a great day or a spectacular day. Just an ordinary day.

Thinking of her was hard. He’d let her down. Shouldn’t have got involved with her in the first place while he was still so low himself. All he knew was that when he looked ahead, through the murky days he knew would still come, he hoped she would be there. Maybe one day he’d get through the fog to see clearly enough to make it up to her.

The embarrassing sound of cheesy Christmas carols filled Ry and Julia’s home. A six-foot tall tinsel Christmas tree, white, of course, sat in a corner decorated with matching silver and white baubles. Underneath it, presents were laid out on colourful display.

Lizzie sipped her champagne and tried to relax on the white leather sofa while Ry and Julia bantered with each other in the kitchen. Every time they passed one another, they exchanged a quick kiss, like a relay race with lips instead of batons.

‘It looks quite peaceful over here, Lizzie. Mind if I join you?’ The force of nature that was Ry’s mother Barbra eased into the sofa next to her. She was wearing a multicoloured long shirt over white linen trousers and huge hoop earrings, which dangled precariously on either side of her silver grey hair and warm smile.

‘Of course not, Barbra. Please join me. I’m enjoying Ry’s champagne.’ Lizzie held up the flute in a salute and smiled. She was on to her third glass on an empty stomach and the mellow buzz of being slightly drunk was starting to settle in.

The older woman winked. ‘It’s not French, but it’ll do. You must be exhausted, darling. Ry tells me you had a full house last night.’

Lizzie yawned just at the thought of it. The pub had been fully booked on Christmas Eve and she hadn’t left until midnight. The hard work and long hours were slightly easier to bear knowing that the pub was closed on Christmas Day. Ry had decided to keep up the tradition so everyone who worked for him would have time to celebrate with their own families. Since it was her first Christmas back in Middle Point and her first with Ry, Julia had insisted that everyone gather together in the glass palace for a yuletide feast. Lizzie didn’t argue. Julia had all the time in the world to do a Nigella and prepare the Christmas banquet. Lizzie had barely managed to drag herself out of bed at midday and had remained flopped on the sofa next to Joe for the rest of the afternoon. After a reluctant shower, she’d pulled on a red dress, to fit in with the Christmas theme, and wandered down for the party. Now, at six o’clock, she was happy to chill on their sofa while they finished off preparations for dinner.

‘I’m still recovering, actually,’ Lizzie told Barbra.

‘You just sit here, darling, and let them do all the work. That’s my plan, anyway.’

The front door opened and Joe entered with Harri, who was tentatively walking with a stick. He gently held her elbow and slowed his pace to match hers.

‘Where should I put the old lady?’ Joe called out.

‘Over here with us,’ Lizzie called, waving from the living area.

‘Ooh, you’re a cheeky sod, Joseph. Always were.’ Harri held his hand as he eased her backwards into a sitting position.

‘Harri…Harriet Byrne, may I introduce you to Barbra, Ry’s mother. Barbra, my neighbour Harri.’

They shook hands and smiled at each other. ‘Having hip trouble?’ Barbra asked.

‘It’s a shocker. And getting worse.’

‘Have you tried yoga? It helps my lower back pain enormously.’ Then Barbra stopped, narrowed her eyes quizzically. ‘Hold on a minute. I recognise you. Didn’t you used to be in State Parliament?’

Harri smiled proudly. ‘Yes, I did.’

‘I thought your name was familiar. I used to volunteer at a women’s shelter and I think you helped organise some funding for us.’

Harri’s eyes lit up and Lizzie smiled. Her neighbour had clearly found a kindred spirit.

As Harri and Barbra fell into animated conversation, Lizzie wandered over to the kitchen. She’d been tense all day about exactly who was going to be there for dinner, which was why she’d guzzled so much champagne so quickly. Apart from the beautiful flowers, she’d had no contact with Dan. She’d not heard his voice, or seen his gorgeous smile. She was on tenterhooks. When she arrived, she’d surreptitiously checked out the place settings and had counted to seven. Ry, Julia, Joe, Harri, Barbra and her made only six.

‘Need a hand with anything?’ Lizzie slid onto one of the stools along the marble kitchen bench. She felt obliged to ask since she was in the vicinity of all the culinary action.

‘No, it’s all sorted,’ Julia said, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘The roast pork is in the oven and the crackling looks just about right. The salads are all done and in the fridge and,’ Julia checked her watch, ‘Dan should be here any minute with the prawns.’

So he was coming. And it was Dan singular, not Dan and Anna, plural.

Julia slapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh hell. I forgot to tell you, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. I’ve been a little stressed about all this cooking and you’ve been flat out at the pub.’ Julia rounded the bench and threw her arms around Lizzie. ‘And we really haven’t had a chance to talk lately, have we?’

Lizzie held on tight. ‘I know you’re here for me if I need you.’ Julia released her hold, tipped up Lizzie’s chin. ‘I want you to remember something. You are with all the people who love you most in the world. You look stunning. Relax and enjoy.’

Lizzie tried to smile. ‘I will. I promise.’

A car horn tooted from the driveway and Ry marched to the front door.

‘Give us a hand will you, Joe? That’ll be Danny Boy. I asked him to grab some extra ice on his way down from Adelaide.’

Lizzie downed the rest of her champagne, placed her glass carefully on the bench and walked over to the sofa where Harri and Barbra were laughing and swapping war stories. She perched herself on the soft, flat arm rest and waited. A wooziness suddenly hit her and she realised it would perhaps have been sensible to have had something to eat along with the bubbles. Too late.

When she looked up, three of the handsomest men she knew were in convoy. Ry was lugging a bag of ice in each hand. Joe had a styrofoam box in his arms, heavy with prawns packed in ice. Dan came in last, carrying a huge cardboard box, Christmas-paper wrapped parcels visible at the top. While Ry and Joe made their way through the house to the kitchen, Dan stopped at the tree and placed the box on the floor near the other presents.

Barbra leapt to her feet. ‘Danny, darling!’

Dan looked up, took in the scene. He gave Lizzie a brief, unsmiling glance and then turned his attention to Barbra, quickly reacting to her jog across the room and her outstretched arms. Lizzie felt her heart lurch at the loving smile he gave Barbra and she couldn’t contain the ache she felt when he hugged the woman fiercely. God, she needed another glass of bubbles.

‘Barbra. You look gorgeous as always.’

She pulled back, looked up to see his face. ‘And you look…so much better, darling. This sea air obviously agrees with you.’ She smacked a loud kiss on his cheek. ‘Come and meet Harri.’ Barbra grabbed Dan’s arm and motioned him towards the sofa in which Harri was lounging elegantly. Lizzie tried to maintain her calm and straightened her back.

‘Harri, this is the delectable Dan McSwaine. Ry’s best friend and best man at the wedding next year.’

‘I’ve heard a lot about you, young man.’ Harri held out a hand to Dan and, instead of shaking it, he leaned over and kissed the back of her hand.

‘All good I hope,’ he said.

Dan was sharing a grin with Harri that made the older woman blush. Harri was a tough old bird but even tough old birds weren’t immune to the charms of a handsome young man. Lizzie bit her lip.

Was there a woman in Middle Point who wasn’t half in love with Dan McSwaine?

She huffed out loud, crossed her arms over her chest.

‘Merry Christmas, Elizabeth.’

And there he was, eyes trained on her, all handsome and smiling. It wasn’t the same version he’d just flashed at Harri to magnificent effect, she noticed. This one was different. He’d turned down the flirt-o-meter and presented a different face to her. Was it guilt, she wondered? It damn well should be.

Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe she’d let her anger get in the way of her good judgment but she decided to turn the pressure back on him, make him squirm just a little. So she checked him out, slowly, languorously. Her eyes dropped to his chest. His shirt was the exact same colour as his emerald green eyes and he’d teamed it with black trousers. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and there were just enough buttons undone for her to peek inside the fabric and check out his pecs. She made no secret of the fact that she was perusing the merchandise.

‘Why Dan, so nice to see you again.’ Before Lizzie realised what she was doing, she lifted her hand to him, propped it up in the air like a southern belle, and waited for the back of it to be kissed. Her ruse had worked. He looked nervous, his eyes moving from her hand to her face and back again, as if he was considering it, but then shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and took a step back from her. When Lizzie realised her hand was hanging in the air like a forlorn tree branch, she quickly pulled it back into her lap. A swell of embarrassment thudded in her chest.

‘How have you been?’ Dan asked quietly, a question clearly intended only for her, not the flapping ears of the two matriarchs who were hanging on every word, watching the conversation with raised eyebrows and curious eyes.

‘Fine and dandy, thanks Dan.’ Lizzie looked up at him with a forced smile.

‘I hear The Market was a huge triumph.’

‘Yes, it was. A rip-roaring success as a matter of fact.’

‘That’s great to hear. You worked really hard on it.’

‘Yes I did, didn’t I?’ Lizzie snorted. And then she laughed out loud. Too loud. The room had gone dead quiet and everyone was watching her. There was a pounding in her head as if her heart was beating in her brain instead of inside her chest. She felt herself shrinking at the attention, the tightness in her throat like a rigor mortis of panic.

‘Dinner’s ready!’ Julia called.

‘Thank God for that,’ Lizzie muttered and rose unsteadily to her feet.

Dinner was unbearable. Sure, the food was fantastic and the company was easy. For the most part. Ry and Julia were rightly proud of their table and were beaming to be hosting their first Christmas. Barbra shot Dan the occasional worried glance and he knew she was wondering why he was so quiet. Harri entertained everyone with stories of characters from the local district, many of whom now lived only in legend. The Sydney Snake was acting a little weird, Dan decided, suspicious of his sullen silences and fondness for red wine.

As for Lizzie, she didn’t look at him. Not once. But that didn’t mean he could take his eyes off her. It was as if he’d endured his own personal Elizabeth drought and he’d become a man with an unquenchable thirst. He’d imagined that time away from her would make it easier to come back, that he would have somehow become used to not seeing her and that he wouldn’t want her so much.

But the exact opposite was true.

When he’d walked in, carrying the presents he’d scoured the city for, he’d almost swallowed his tongue at the sight of her in that red dress. It was made from some kind of shimmery material and it hugged her curves in a way that his hands itched to do. There was a glow in her cheeks, her blue eyes were bright, and in her ears, two red baubles danced, miniature Christmas decorations that jangled and sparkled.

And now, sitting directly opposite her during dinner, face to face with her for the first time in weeks, he couldn’t think of a thing to say. All his resolve to stay away from her was being stretched to the limit as he watched her laugh with her friends, share herself with the people she cared about. During the main course, she teased her brother, interrogated Ry and Julia on the details of the wedding, urged Harri to go back to the doctor about her hip and admired Barbra’s earrings. She had something for everyone. Except for him.

Maybe that was for the best. Maybe she could see through him, through everything he was trying to hide. If she could, she would see that the last thing he wanted to do was get any more deeply involved with her. It was best he kept a distance between them, now, for her sake.