The Girl in the Hard Hat (31 page)

She allowed herself three days to rest, shop and read. It was an absolute pleasure to be dust free and able to sleep in till midday if she desired. Unable to stop the workaholic in her, however, she did do a little sorting of the hoarded junk that had been lying around the house for years. Her shoulder seemed to be improving markedly but the doctor had told her to keep the sling on for one to two weeks.

There wasn’t a day that went by when she didn’t think of Gavin, or wonder how he was faring with his newfound power.
Probably loving it.

Or his three or more love interests.
Probably loving that too.

Why was it that women were always attracted to bad boys? Why was Mr Quiet-Shy-Dependable always such a lame duck? The one who had a sensitive side and enjoyed the odd chick flick every now and then was rarely the guy to make your heart race, your skin burn and your fingers tingle.

It’s probably adrenaline. Your body recognises the danger. It’s your brain that thinks it’s love.

Love?

How did that word get stuck in there? Surely she wasn’t that delusional?

It was actually a relief to have a goal in place to distract her brain from such confusing thoughts. She planned to see her father on Monday. It was the least busy day at his pub, The Grunt. It was the one place her mother didn’t venture often. The best time, Wendy figured, was about four o’clock – after lunch, before dinner.

Parry was very surprised to see her, as she knew he would be. They were not close. Ever since she’d learned to drive, contact with both her parents had seemed unnecessary and sadly unwanted by either party. Nonetheless, he came out from the kitchens to greet her, kissed her on the cheek and invited her to sit down at one of his empty tables.

‘What happened to your arm?’ His eyes went immediately to her sling. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing. I dislocated my shoulder. It’s on the mend.’

‘You put too much on yourself.’

He was a small man, shorter than Wendy, with a thinning head of black hair. For a cook, he was surprisingly thin. He had sad eyes, a drawn face and the mark of duty stamped quite firmly on his lined brow.

‘Can I get you something, Wendy? Coffee? Cool drink? Something stronger?’

‘No thank you.’ She waved away his offer with a slight smile. ‘I just came to talk.’

‘Really?’ He looked wary. ‘About what?’

‘I think you’ve got an idea.’

When he continued to stand there, while she sat at his table, she sighed. ‘Is it that hard to talk about this with me?’

‘I don’t want you getting angry and upset again.’

‘Believe me, I’m past angry and upset. I’ve been through enough these last six months. I’ve realised that getting emotional about the past is a waste of time because you can’t change it.’

He finally sat down at the table. Setting his tea towel aside, he placed one hand over the other. ‘You certainly can’t.’

‘But just because you can’t change the past,’ she licked her lips, ‘doesn’t mean you can’t learn from it.’

‘What do you want from me, Wendy? I’ve already told you everything I know.’

‘Not everything,’ she said carefully. ‘Do you love my mother?’

His gaze jumped to hers. ‘Yes, God help me. It’s why I have stayed with her. Hoping, praying things would change. Maybe it’s time to let go.’

‘Is that why you forgave her when you found out I wasn’t yours?’

‘I forgave her because I loved both of you. I still love you both.’

She shook her head. ‘You tossed me out when you found out I was another man’s child.’

‘Is that what you believe?’ He reached out to grab her hand. ‘I know I have handled this badly, my dear, but I never stopped loving you. I just felt like I no longer had the right to.’

‘That isn’t an excuse.’ Wendy’s lips pulled in a straight line. ‘Do you know how ostracised I felt being packed up and sent away as though I had done something wrong?’

He withdrew his hand. ‘Things were a mess here too. It’s better that you didn’t have to witness the fighting that went on while you were away, especially in those first few years.’

‘Fighting about what?’

His eyes flicked to her briefly. He hesitated. ‘I wanted to find your biological father and tell him that a mistake had been made.’

She leaned forwards in shock. ‘Did you find him? Did you tell him?’

‘No, I didn’t tell him,’ he said with some difficulty. ‘Helen was against it and so was my mother.’

‘Grandma?’

‘Both your grandparents, actually. Dad was alive back then and they were opposed to changing the status quo and dirtying the family name.’

Wendy could believe that. Her grandparents were both of the previous generation’s mindset – traditional and conservative. Her grandmother, in particular, was very Italian and very Catholic. The last thing they would want is a bastard child in the family for people to gawk at. Particularly one they had claimed as their own for the last six years.

‘Also we knew that . . . your father . . . was married. There was the other woman to consider. We didn’t know what would happen if we told them.’

‘Wait.’ Wendy’s eyes narrowed. ‘How did you know that Hector was married?’

‘His name is not Hector,’ Parry practically spat. ‘That’s just a fantasy your mother likes to live to make herself feel better.’

Wendy blinked. ‘I don’t get it.’

He answered bitterly enough. ‘I think your mother thought he would return after you were born. Maybe to claim you and her . . . Who knows? She kept tabs on him. But just before you turned one, he married someone else, thus severing the possibility of a relationship. He made his intentions clear.’

Wendy nodded. ‘And that’s when you came back on the scene and offered to marry her yourself?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you know she was keeping tabs on my father?’

‘Yes.’ He gritted his teeth. ‘Because I was keeping tabs on him myself. I wanted to see if he would come back for you. And when he didn’t, it seemed proof you were mine. Can you tell what a fool I was?’

‘Not a fool,’ Wendy said quietly. ‘You just wanted to believe my mother was telling the truth because you loved her.’

‘Exactly. I didn’t realise she was using me to make another man jealous. Hoping he would come back to stake his claim. It all makes sense in hindsight.’ His voice turned bitter. ‘She only accepted my second proposal after her other lover got married. But I didn’t see that. I was just too eager to believe that things could go back to the way they were before everything got messed up for me and Helen.’

Wendy felt ill.

It seemed her mother had used Parry as much as she had her daughter, but not just for the reasons Wendy had previously thought – money, power, a roof over her head.

She’d used her to get back the man she really loved.

Until, of course . . . it was just too late.

Overwhelmed by the information she now had to digest, Wendy left the pub in a daze and didn’t realise until she was halfway home that she had forgotten to ask one crucial question.

If Hector wasn’t her father’s real name, then what was? She was sure now that Parry knew. In fact, he probably even knew the man’s last name if he’d been keeping tabs on him for a year after she was born. She turned her car around and headed back to the pub. But when she arrived Parry had left.

‘He was feeling unwell,’ one of the bartenders told her. ‘Said he’d take the afternoon off and come back for dinner.’

She assumed he’d gone home; her mother would be there too. But that didn’t matter. She’d confront both of them together.

She got back in her car and drove out onto the main road. After driving about a kilometre, she noticed a turn-off. Northberry Road.

Why was that familiar? And then with a jolt, she remembered that Gavin lived in that street. Curiosity got the better of her and she turned her car into the small street. She couldn’t remember his house number, only that it was a small single digit number. This clue didn’t help her particularly in locating his residence but her knowledge of him did.

All the houses in the street, with the exception of one, had immaculately tended front gardens – pristine lawns, trimmed bushes and flourishing beds of flowers or other native flora. House number three, however, was a wasteland of weeds, dead trees or shrubs in desperate need of trimming. It was a gorgeous day, and so many of the other houses had their windows or front doors open. Number three had windows shut and curtains drawn – and there was a dusty old Holden parked in the driveway. It clearly hadn’t been used in a while because there were dry leaves collecting around its wheels and its back boot displayed splotches upon splotches of bird poo.

Charming.

She turned her car into the driveway and cut the engine, taking in the details of the house like a detective searching for clues. Of course, she couldn’t be sure it was his house. For all she knew, Gavin employed a gardener to come once a week to make sure his Perth home was ready to receive him whenever he decided to come home.

Yeah right.

Why did this man fascinate her so much?

He was just like this house. Difficult to read and all locked up. She couldn’t make up her mind as to whether he was a nice guy or a bastard. He had all these wonderful giving moments, where he helped people and really felt for their plight. But as quickly as fog sweeps into a field he could become distant and unreachable.

She knew nothing personal about him. Like even if he had family, a brother, a sister? Where did he go to school? Had he ever been in love? Maybe some woman in his past had destroyed his faith in love.

Who knew what went on behind closed doors? As she squinted at the metaphor before her a
rat a tat tat
on her side window made her jump so violently that if not for her seat belt she would have slammed her head into the roof.

With a hand on her heaving chest she turned to see a man bent double, looking in at her. He seemed vaguely familiar but she couldn’t quite match a name to his face.

He was tall and slim but well built. His hair was blond and his skin a little weathered and wrinkled, making his age impossible to estimate. He looked like the kind of man who worked hard and partied harder. Honestly, he could have been anywhere from early thirties to late forties. A simple spherical silver stud graced his right ear.

He waved his pointer finger indicating that she should wind down her window. His smile was friendly enough but she still put the window down only a couple of inches.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Have you seen Gavin Jones recently?’

So this
was
his house.

‘Er . . . yes,’ she answered cautiously.

He scratched his head. ‘I, er . . . just wanted to know when he might be coming home?’

‘Why? Who are you?’

‘My mates call me Skinner.’ His grin broadened. ‘Hasn’t he mentioned me? Gav, me and my brother, we go way back. But at the moment I’m just the guy who collects his mail.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘He asked me to do it. You know,’ he nodded, ‘while he’s out of town.’ He held up some envelopes, all addressed to Gavin Jones, as though to prove it. ‘I’ve got a whole stack now and just wanted to know when he’s coming round to collect. I think a few of them are bills . . . and you know it would be a bugger if his phone got cut or something.’

She relaxed slightly. What was she thinking? There was nothing suspicious about this man. Gavin, being his usual carefree ‘unconcerned about the little things’ self, had clearly just forgotten all about him.

‘I’m sorry, you know the last time I spoke to him about going on R and R, he said he wasn’t coming back to Perth – said he wanted to go to Exmouth instead for the fishing.’

‘That’d be Gavin.’ The man nodded ruefully. ‘When’s he going on R and R?’

‘I don’t know.’ Wendy shrugged. ‘He’s pretty busy at the moment. Maybe in a week or two?’

‘I see.’ The guy put his forearm on the top of her car, as though settling in for a long conversation, which didn’t enthuse her much. ‘Who are you anyway?’ he continued. ‘His girlfriend?’

Tell-tale gooseflesh started to appear on the back of her neck. ‘No, no, no. I’m a colleague – the safety manager at Cape Lambert.’

The man’s grin stretched further. ‘Definitely need a safety manager at one of those out-of-the-way places up north. So what are you doing here today?’

His question threw her. What could she say to that?

Came out for a perv? I’m a stalker. I’m not his girlfriend but I want to be . . . This guy definitely wasn’t the dodgy one.
She
was.

‘I . . . er . . . was just in the area.’

‘In the area?’ he prompted.

‘My father owns a pub around here.’ She licked her lips. ‘I knew Gavin’s address so just thought I’d drive by his house.’

‘Really?’ His tone seemed to indicate that he understood more than she was saying. She felt her skin heat.

Why do you allow yourself to get into these messes?
He was probably going to report right back to Gavin that he’d seen her parked outside the front of his house, gazing adoringly at the door just like your average neighbourhood psychopath.

Great!

He leaned in closer to her window and said with a grin, ‘I won’t tell if you don’t tell.’