What Rosie Found Next (12 page)

The smell of smoke had pulled Rosie out to the front of the house earlier and she’d been greeted with grey clouds pluming in the distance. She’d leaned against the wall to steady herself, her legs weak at the threat of what could happen.

She cleared her throat now, talking to Owen. ‘I heard Tilly was in the building.’

‘She’s going to be fine, she was lucky.’

They watched one another for a moment, until, noticing the absence of a jacket and helmet, Rosie asked, ‘Where’s the bike?’

Before he could answer, Bella spotted him through the throng and she wrapped him in an enormous hug. She requested a Guinness for one of Magnolia Creek’s heroes. ‘Drinks are on me tonight, love.’

‘Thanks, sweetheart.’

Bella ruffled his hair in a mumsy way. ‘Sweetheart?’ Rosie asked, the pieces falling into place.

‘To outsiders I guess it sounds weird,’ he said. ‘But when I was a little boy she’d always ask “What are you, Owen?” and I’d answer “Bella’s little sweetheart”. Sounds daft, I know. When I grew up I was way too manly to be called such a name so I turned it around and started using the same name for Bella. I guess it kind of stuck.’

Rosie realised now that the night she’d thought he was answering a page from a woman when he’d shaken his head and muttered ‘Not tonight, sweetheart’, he’d actually been responding to a request from Bella. The skin on her neck tingled.

Owen thanked Bella for the Guinness and sipped the cream top. ‘I didn’t bring the bike tonight. I wanted to clear my head after today. And God knows I could use a drink.’

Owen’s tongue darted out to lick his lip free of the creamy froth, and Rosie tried not to stare. She hid behind a gulp of her own Merlot.

‘How long do you think it’ll be before Magnolia House reopens?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. They’ll have to clear up and then the building will need to be certified as safe.’ He took a sip of Guinness as Rosie’s phone bleeped with an incoming text. ‘Is it Adam?’

‘He just landed.’ But instead of his absence making Rosie’s heart grow fonder, it seemed her heart wanted nothing more than to wander off elsewhere, particularly with this man who spelt danger compared to the safe life she’d mapped out for herself.

Her life had reached a whole new level of complicated lately.

Bella swept in again and put an arm across Rosie’s shoulders. Then to Owen she said, ‘So who’s the mystery blond I saw you with yesterday?’

‘No mystery,’ he said. ‘That was Carrie.’

‘She’s nice,’ said Rosie who got the eye raise she’d predicted from Bella when she realised Owen had introduced this woman already.

‘I’ve met her,’ Rosie continued, stirring up trouble. ‘She lives in the city and wanted Owen to go back with her.’ She took a generous swig of Merlot. ‘But Owen doesn’t spend the night with women, do you?’ Oh dear, maybe she should’ve eaten more before she came out rather than the paltry slice of toast with butter. The alcohol was going to her head.

Bella hovered. ‘Go on, sounds an interesting story.’

Egged on by her audience, Rosie said, ‘Owen thinks spending the night with a woman would be leading her on and invite questions like “Where is this going?”’

‘What a load of old nonsense.’ Bella giggled. ‘That’s the poorest excuse I’ve heard in a long time for playing the field.’ She looked past Owen. ‘Excuse me. Rodney’s come in the door over the other side of the bar. I’ll go and grab him.’

When she went to look for her husband, Owen turned to Rosie. ‘It’d be great if you didn’t share quite so much of my personal life with the entire town.’

‘Bella’s a friend,’ she protested. ‘She’s
your
friend.’

‘True. But in many ways she’s more like a mother to me. She probably changed my nappies once upon a time.’

Rosie spluttered on her wine.

‘All I’m saying is that it’s like talking to my mum about my sex life.’ He fought a grin. ‘Would you want to talk to your mum about your habits with men, your behaviours?’

Rosie’s glass stopped on the way to her lips. ‘No, I wouldn’t. I’m sorry.’

‘Apology accepted.’ His eyes held hers, although they dropped to her lips a couple of times before Bella and Rodney came to join them.

Rodney and Owen went to play a round of darts and left Rosie alone with Bella.

‘So,’ Bella began, ‘what’s this Carrie really like? Is she good enough for Owen?’

She couldn’t lie. ‘She seemed lovely, but I didn’t talk to her much. Owen doesn’t share much about his personal life.’

‘You know, I don’t think Jane and Michael ever met any of his girlfriends.’

Somehow it didn’t surprise Rosie.

They changed the subject – Rosie’s doing – and chatted about Magnolia Creek. Bella told Rosie all about the snowfields come winter, the walking trails and the must-visit wineries of the Yarra Valley.

‘If you ever get a chance, take a flight in a hot air balloon,’ said Bella. ‘Rodney surprised me on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and it was such a thrill being so high up, soaring over the ranges.’

Rodney waved to Bella and Bella finished her drink. ‘I’d better go. It’s another early start in the morning for us. Don’t ever start your own business if you value your lie-ins.’ She hugged Rosie.

‘I bet you wouldn’t have it any other way.’ Rosie waved goodbye to them before nipping to the ladies, glowing at being a part of such a great community. It was like a family with no blood-ties, people who were close because they wanted to be. Her spirits only waned when she thought of the Harrisons’ return from overseas. She wasn’t sure whether she’d be able to find a rental property so nearby that she still felt a part of all this.

When Rosie emerged from the bathrooms, Owen was still playing darts, this time with Gus. She weaved through the crowd at the bar, but as she was about to sit at the table with the best view of the dartboard, she saw Carrie, her arm possessively tugging at Owen’s waist, the familiar laughter ringing out. And when Carrie planted a kiss on Owen’s lips, Rosie’s heart sank.

Oh well, time to leave.

She stepped outside into a warm evening with a light breeze on the air. It gently lifted her hair as she walked away from the pub beneath a sky that had carefully fallen across the trees but still allowed the moon to emerge from its hiding place. Doubts about Adam had surfaced over the last couple of days, but perhaps it would be best to get everything out in the open. She’d go home and FaceTime him, maybe even tell him all about the dream house on Daisy Lane. She needed to tell him she didn’t want to leave Australia. She needed to make him hear what she was saying.

Streetlamps lit the way along the high street for the first part of the walk, but when Rosie left the stretch of shops the lamps were scant. The moon seemed to shrink behind the trees, unable to peep over, and when she heard a rustling in the bushes lining either side of the road she quickened her pace.

She was being paranoid, she was sure of it. She hesitated, wondering whether to turn back. She was less than a few hundred metres away from the pub. But the thought of playing the damsel-in-distress card with Carrie looking on was enough to persuade her to put one foot in front of the other and keep heading for home.

But then she heard another noise. And this time it was footsteps behind her.

Everything happened so quickly. One minute she was spinning round to see who it was, the next she was pushed to the ground. Her head cracked against the pavement and her purse was whipped from her hand.

She shielded her face with her arms. She felt a tightening around her neck, something digging into her skin, and she wondered if she’d ever be able to breathe again.

‘Have you seen Rosie?’ Owen asked Gus and then several others in the pub. He’d seen Bella and Rodney leave and then Carrie had appeared out of nowhere. When he’d finished the game of darts, he’d expected to see Rosie watching on, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

‘She must’ve left,’ said Carrie. ‘Let me drop you home, you look beat.’ Her hand sneaked around his waist and her fingers tucked into the rear pocket of his jeans. He knew she’d been shaken up by meeting Rosie the other day, and why wouldn’t she be? Rosie was an attractive girl, and the fact she clearly had no idea this was the case made her even more appealing.

‘I’d like the walk.’ He planted a kiss on her cheek, saw her to her car, and then set off on the short walk home, past Finnegan’s, past the gift shop.

He hoped Rosie wasn’t in bed yet. He’d assumed they’d carry on chatting after he’d played darts. He’d envisaged having one of those evenings where they lost track of time and talked into the early hours of the morning until it was impossible to keep their eyes open any longer. He was beginning to realise that his reasons for being at the house had changed somewhat. Over the last couple of weeks he’d continued his search, snatching moments here and there to go into the roof space, rummage through laundry cupboards, go through the shed in case he’d missed something. But whatever evidence there may have once been, it had clearly been destroyed so that he could never find out what was being kept from him.

And now, he had no reason to be in Magnolia Creek or at the house any more. No reason, that was, apart from Rosie.

He turned the corner, and as he passed beneath the second streetlamp, he stopped at the sound of muffled crying.

It took seconds for his vision to adjust to the dark, and that was when he saw her.

Slumped on the ground, Rosie had blood running from her knee and she tugged at her dress to cover herself.

‘My God, what happened?’ He hoisted her up to standing. Blood ran down one side of her face from a cut to her head, and she was clasping her neck.

‘He took it,’ she sobbed.

‘Slow down, breathe.’ He held her close and she leant against him as his arms enveloped her.

‘He took my necklace.’

‘You’re okay, that’s the main thing. Anything taken can be replaced.’

Rosie pulled back, brown eyes wide. But before she could speak, her legs buckled beneath her and he caught her in his arms.

‘I need to get you home,’ he said, helping her to stand upright again. Thank God he’d walked tonight. If he’d been on the bike, he wouldn’t have heard the crying and he probably wouldn’t have seen her either. Who knew what else could’ve happened to her.

She put her arm round Owen’s waist and tugged at his T-shirt, trying to grab a hold of him. He wrapped one arm across her shoulders and the other around her front, gripping her forearm, leaving her in no danger of falling as they staggered the rest of the way home.

Back at the house he settled her onto the sofa. ‘I think I’ve twisted my knee,’ she said.

‘I’ll call the police and then I’ll get you an ice pack.’ He touched her hair lightly and winked at her, and once he’d made the call he wrapped an ice pack in a tea towel and crouched down to place it to her knee. She winced. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay.’ She relaxed back against the sofa as the ice began to soothe, but when her hair fell away from her neck, he dropped the ice pack.

‘Bloody hell, Rosie.’ He reached up and pulled the rest of her hair out of the way to reveal the red, raw marks where her necklace had once been. ‘If I ever find out who did this, I’ll—’

Her hand settled on his. ‘Can I have the ice pack back now?’

He crouched down beside her again and gently held the pack against her knee. ‘Does it hurt?’ He couldn’t stop looking at her neck, at the space where her necklace had once been.

She gave him a look.

‘Sorry, dumb question.’

The police arrived less than fifteen minutes later, and a female officer spoke with Rosie while another officer made notes. Owen offered tea all round and tried to give Rosie the space she might need and privacy if she wanted it. He was making tea when the officer asked whether the man had sexually assaulted her. The boiling water splashed all over one hand and he wasn’t sure how he managed to quash the ‘fuck!’ under his breath.

He ran his hand under cold water and felt immediate relief not only from the burn but also from Rosie’s confirmation that, no, all the attacker had been interested in was her purse and necklace.

The officers left half an hour later, sounding doubtful about catching the mugger given the lack of physical description Rosie had of the man. Owen sat on the armchair next to the sofa where Rosie was sitting, cup of tea clasped between her palms, left leg outstretched across the ottoman with the ice pack doing its job.

‘How’s it feeling?’ He nodded towards the knee.

‘A bit better.’

‘Can I get you something to eat?’

‘I’m not hungry.’ Her fingers moved towards her neck but fell away again. ‘Do you think they’ll be able to get my necklace back?’

Owen shook his head and Rosie’s shoulders slumped. He wondered whether shock did that to you, whether it made you forget your own safety and how lucky you were to come away with only the loss of possessions, your life still intact. He’d seen it before – house owners risking life and limb to grab valuables from their homes and not lose everything, when all that mattered in the end was keeping themselves and their loved ones alive.

‘You can get another necklace, Stevens.’

She leapt up and the ice pack dropped to the floor with a thump. ‘Don’t patronise me.’

‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention.’

‘Yeah, well, we’re not all robotic, switching our feelings on and off whenever we feel like it.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ He kept his voice calm, watched her, hands on her hips, face heated with anger.

‘I’m talking about the way you treat people, involved with them one minute and keeping them at arm’s length the next.’

‘I’m not sure I follow.’ His mouth set in a firm line, unsure of where this was going.

‘All this crap you spout about not spending the night with a girl, not leading her on. Well that’s the biggest load of bull I’ve ever heard!’

He was on his feet now, towering above her. ‘What’s brought this on? I’ve gone out of my way to help you tonight, so why the personal attack?’

‘Because that necklace meant something to me, it was more than just a piece of jewellery. But then I don’t suppose you’d understand. You move around, flit from place to place, not getting close to anyone so how could you possibly get it?’

‘Now steady on. I know you’ve had a shock and everything, Stevens—’

‘Don’t call me that!’

He balled his fists up tightly to eradicate the desire to yell at her. It wouldn’t be fair, not after tonight. ‘I’m not listening to this any more. I’ll lock up and say goodnight. Let me know if you need anything, you know where I am.’

He didn’t hear what else she hollered at him because he slammed the door on his way out of the room.

*

It was almost three in the morning and Owen lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, knowing he’d never sleep unless he got some air into the house. The upstairs held onto the heat of the day for much longer than downstairs, and he staggered over to the window to open it. He went out onto the landing to open the window at the far end, past Rosie’s bedroom. With any luck come morning, the house would be a bearable temperature. He hoped the atmosphere with Rosie would be a bit less scorching by then too.

A welcome rush of cool air filtered in, and Owen was unsurprised to see that George wasn’t in his usual spot on the landing. The cat had probably curled up in the kitchen where it was cooler.

Owen turned to creep past Rosie’s bedroom, the only sound in the house coming from whispering leaves outside the window or perhaps from the creak of a tree, but he soon realised it was neither. He stopped outside her bedroom door, listening to the gentle sniffing, a sound that requested privacy. But when the sniffing changed to full-on sobbing, he quit hesitating. He didn’t even knock. He pushed open the door, went straight over to the bed where she was curled up in a ball. Her bedside lamp was on as though she was terrified the darkness would make her relive last night’s nightmare. He took her in his arms and she didn’t resist. She leant into his bare chest, her T-shirt barely covering her undies as it rode up her legs. He pulled the sheet over her to give her some dignity. She was so upset she wasn’t even thinking, not conscious that she was half naked and so was he in only a pair of boxer shorts.

‘You’re safe now.’ He held her, rocked her until she calmed and her breathing evened out.

He pulled a tissue from the box on her bedside table and handed it to her. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

‘How’s the neck?’ He wanted to reach out and magically heal those nasty red marks.

‘I’m sorry about last night.’ She completely bypassed his question.

‘We don’t need to talk about it now.’ His pager went off in his bedroom, the buzzing loud enough in the still of the night to hear from this part of the house. ‘Excuse me. I’ll be one minute.’

He ran to his bedroom and was back at Rosie’s side moments later.

‘Do you have to go?’ Her brown eyes pleaded with him to stay.

‘I’m not leaving you here on your own.’

‘I’ll be fine, go on.’

He looked at her. ‘We’re a close-knit team in the CFA, but we all understand that what we do is voluntary, and sometimes you can’t make it.’ He made a grave face. ‘Mind you, given my robotic tendencies I guess I could head down to the fire station and forget all about someone who might need me more tonight.’

He’d done it. He’d coaxed a smile out of her, no matter how small. ‘That’s better.’ He smiled back at her.

‘I didn’t mean what I said, Owen.’ Her hand reached for the necklace that was no longer there. ‘Force of habit,’ she said when she saw him looking.

‘Did Adam give you the necklace?’

‘No.’ Her face crumpled again. ‘I’m sorry, this is so ridiculous. I should be glad the man didn’t do anything else to me. It could’ve been a lot worse.’

‘True. But you’re not being ridiculous.’

She lay down again and curled into a ball on her side. When Owen saw a tear escape as she closed her eyes, perhaps so he wouldn’t see, he lay down next to her. When her breath caught, he knew she was crying again and he curled his body around hers and held her tightly.

Her hair tickled his face as their heads lay together on the pillow. He couldn’t deny how attracted he was to her – he’d felt that way from the moment she’d confronted him in the hallway that first night – but tonight there was no hidden agenda, no ulterior motive. She’d become special to him, and even though she was off limits, he wasn’t about to abandon her, not tonight.

‘Do you want me to call Adam for you?’

She didn’t answer right away. ‘No, he’d only worry.’

Owen began to feel the exhaustion creep up on him from the adrenalin of the fire yesterday, finding Rosie and then dealing with the police. He ran a hand across his eyes, still heavy from the effects of the smoke the day before. But Rosie’s voice stopped him surrendering to sleep.

‘My dad bought me the necklace. For my twenty-first birthday. That’s why it means so much to me.’

He waited for her to talk again. This was her time and he let her voice echo into the stillness of the night, falling over him like the air from her open window.

‘I’d always been close to Dad and became even more so when Mum left us when I was in my early teens. He was a brilliant cellist. And … he was a firefighter.’

More alert now, Owen propped himself up on his elbow.

‘He was killed in the line of duty.’

‘God, Stevens. I’m so sorry. When?’

‘Eighteen months ago now.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘The day he died, he’d been part of the team who rescued a family of five from a house fire. The roof caved in on them, killing my dad and his best friend.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’ He knew any words would be of little comfort.

‘Mum always struggled with having a husband who did a dangerous job. She had depression on and off too, which didn’t help. I think it all got too much for her in the end – the worry he wouldn’t come home one day, the newsagency she was running on her own. When I was fourteen I came downstairs into the shop and it was quiet, eerily quiet. There were no customers and Mum and Dad stood there, looking at each other. When my eyes fell on the suitcase at my mum’s feet, I knew what was going on.’

‘But she didn’t just leave a marriage, she left you too.’ Rosie was a good person and he hated how people seemed to treat her with no regard to her feelings.

‘I know she did, but I also know she was depressed. Depression does funny things to people, things we can’t even begin to understand. My Auntie came down from Brisbane and settled Mum into her new home down in Geelong. Slowly I began to see that the reasons she left weren’t because we did anything bad or that she no longer loved us. She just couldn’t see any other way.’