The Shifting Light Page 7

  Maybe now that Ben would take on much of the environmental work as part of his degree, Heath would have more time for, well, everything. She too would need to make more time, Nina vowed. Though thinking about needing more time reminded her of that list of things she should be doing right now, instead of waiting for Izzy to arrive for dinner: painting in the studio for one thing. Or sorting through those tax statements at The Springs. Then there was that floorboard that was actually a real hazard and …

  She took three bottles from the fridge and smiled at Lachlan, who was peeling tomatoes. Despite her protests, he had volunteered to make dinner.

  ‘I’m good.’ He gestured to his half glass of red on the bench.

  Ben and Heath were mid-conversation when she returned and perched on the verandah edge next to Ben’s chair.

  ‘… and it’s just a matter of having another chat with Trent Campbell,’ said Heath.

  Wasn’t he the bank manager?

  ‘With mine and Nina’s assets combined, it won’t be a problem to raise a hundred grand, or so,’ he continued.

  Our assets? Wonder when he was going to get round to asking me?

  ‘I’m pumped about the whole thing,’ said Ben. Nina noticed the warm smiles the brothers exchanged.

  ‘So, this Lizzy person – what time’s she coming?’ asked Ben, turning to Nina.

  ‘Izzy – her name’s Izzy. And I thought she’d be here by now,’ said Nina looking at her watch. It was unlike her friend to be late. In fact, she was always early. It was something they had laughed about. Nina frowned. ‘I hope she’s okay.’

  ‘Nina, chill – it’s only just gone 6.30,’ said Heath.

  A clattering of pots and the hiss of water floated through the kitchen window. Lachlan.

  ‘So, what’s he like?’ whispered Ben, tipping his head in the direction of the noise.

  ‘He’s great,’ said Nina.

  ‘Bit of a wanker,’ said Heath at the same time.

  Nina shot him a look. ‘Stop it,’ she said in a low voice. ‘He’s been fantastic.’

  ‘So, how has he rattled your pots, Heath?’ asked Ben, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Let’s just say he’s very in your face and he can’t take a hint. Or two. Or 37. He’s been here for weeks now. He was going to take a room at the pub in town but Nina insisted he stay here.’

  ‘Seriously?’ smiled Ben, seeming to sense some fun.

  ‘Sssh, he’ll hear you,’ said Nina, annoyed.

  ‘And if that’s not enough,’ continued Heath, ‘he finally moves to the Royal because you’re coming home. And he’s been there for – how long, Nina? A minute? No, that’s right – two whole days – before he insists on coming back here to cook you your “welcome home” dinner. And he doesn’t even know you!’

  ‘Oh man,’ said Ben. ‘I can’t argue with anyone who’s prepared to cook for me. He looks like someone who likes their tucker.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Nina said, smiling now.

  ‘Fact is, I was planning a barbie,’ said Heath. ‘I even bought the steaks and the whole deal but that all got tossed aside when he showed up with an Esky full of cheese and prosciutto and yabbies. Now they’ll smell nice in that beard, bro.’

  Ben laughed.

  ‘You two!’ said Nina, rolling her eyes. She shook Ben’s arm.

  ‘Shit, don’t hit me, Neens,’ said Ben still laughing. ‘I’m just enjoying the show.’

  ‘And what’s more, he …’ said Heath.

  ‘Heath!’

  At the sound of Nina’s exclamation, the noise in the kitchen stopped.

  ‘I hope you’re all hungry?’ Lachlan’s disembodied voice came after a pause. ‘It’s almost ready. No sign of Izzy?’

  ‘No. I’ll come in and give you a hand,’ called Nina as she got to her feet.

  F’dumpa, f’dumpa, f’dumpa. Izzy pulled over to the side of the road. Flat tyre. Brilliant. She was already late after having to sort out what she thought would be a simple dinner for the latest tour guests. A diabetic vegan this time.

  She stepped onto the stony road in the four-inch stilettos she had chosen for tonight because, despite the pain, they made her short legs look toned and slim, especially paired with the green lace Alistair Trung – her one and only designer dress.

  Izzy threw open the hatchback, setting loose a shower of dust that fell onto her head and shoulders. Shit. Changing a spare was the last thing she should be doing dressed like this. But even if she could get a signal on her mobile in this no-man’s-land between The Springs and Kurrabar, it would take ages before anyone got here. Besides, she had always prided herself on being able to change a tyre and she wasn’t going to be defeated now.

  She took off her shoes, trod gingerly on the gravel and tucked her dress up into her underwear. Feeling eyes on her, she looked around. A couple of metres away, a dozen or so brown cows with long, floppy ears stared back at her from behind a fence. They chewed and flicked their rumps with their tails.

  Izzy manhandled the spare tyre onto the road. Now, the jack. With some effort, she cranked the lever with her foot but at the last moment her heel slipped onto the gravel. Blood. Fuck fuck fuck. She shook her hands in pain and hopped on her good foot. Why hadn’t she worn normal shoes for the drive and then slipped into heels when she got there?

  She leant into the back of the car and found a blanket. At least she could kneel on this to loosen the wheel nuts. She crouched down and got to work. As she finished securing the new tyre, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Bull ants. Lots of them. She sprang up and heard a ripping sound. No! Not her Alistair Trung. Sure enough, the fabric had snagged on the jack and there was now an ugly frayed rip running from her hip to her knee. And as she registered the full horror of what she had just done, the jack suddenly dislodged and the tyre she’d just removed fell against her. Shit and double-shit! Izzy leapt to her feet. Her beautiful dress now also bore a slash of grey-black down the front. Her hands were filthy and she felt grease on her face. She reached into the car – somewhere in the back there must be a clean rag and didn’t she have a bottle of water? As she scrambled to find it, an ant found its target – her good foot – and she leapt in pain.

  With a howl of frustration, she threw the tools onto the road and sat in the front seat, blinking back tears. What a clusterfuck. She should just surrender, turn around and go back to The Springs. It was almost dark and she was so late it was barely worth heading to Nina’s.

  She didn’t know what hurt the most: her grazed heel, her broken fingernail, the ant bite, or her torn dress. The dress of course. What had possessed her to wear this? She took a swig of water. She knew why, though it was hard to admit it, even to herself. Lachlan. Nina’s cousin. There was something about him. She was not one for dinner parties but when she heard he was going to be there she had felt something she had not felt in a long time. Interest. Maybe it was because he was older. Sure of himself. Yet he was also fun, smart, witty. And those eyes.

  Izzy turned back to the tyre she had replaced. ‘You little fucker. It’s the boot for you.’

  A low moo sounded through the still dusk.

  ‘And you can fuck off too.’

  In 10 minutes she was flying down the road again, clothes and face wiped down and a bulldog clip holding the side of her dress together.

  Nina pressed redial. ‘Hope she hasn’t had a run-in with a roo,’ she said as the three made their way into the dining room. ‘Out of range of course.’ She sighed and sank into a dining chair.

  ‘What’s she driving?’ asked Ben.

  ‘My old car. You all thought it was hilarious.’

  ‘The shopping trolley with an engine,’ said Ben with a smile. ‘I can bring my ute around.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Heath.

  ‘What! Hold on a sec – should I put the yabbies on yet? They only take a few minutes,’ said Lachlan appearing at the kitchen doorway. ‘You’re not leaving, are you?’ He looked at Heath as he wiped his hands on a tea towel
.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Nina. ‘Izzy’s late and we were –’

  ‘Hang on, someone’s here,’ called Ben from the window. Headlights swept across the front windows and they heard the car crunch to a halt.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Lachlan. ‘Just in time.’

  Nina rushed to the door. ‘Izzy – I was so worried! I thought you’d …’

  She fell silent as her friend stepped into the pool of light. Her straightened red hair was streaked with grey dust that also speckled her grease-stained dress. She walked with a limp, carrying her shoes in one hand. And there was something sticking out from the side of her dress. A bulldog clip making the fabric strain around her curvy figure. ‘What happened?’ Nina moved to her.

  ‘Just a flat. I’m fine.’ Izzy shook her head, dislodging another shower of dust. ‘Okay, yes that’s right – stand back and take it all in.’

  Ben started to laugh. ‘So, I take it the tyre won?’

  ‘Shut up,’ said Heath, kicking Ben’s chair. ‘You okay, Izz?’

  ‘Come inside! Let’s get you cleaned up.’ Nina ushered her friend through the door. ‘Ben, meet Izzy – she’s the sensible, practical one I was telling you about.’ She was smiling now.

  ‘Yeah, totally. I spent hours on this look. It’s a Halloween party, right?’ she joked, limping inside.

  As they passed the kitchen door, Lachlan emerged.

  ‘Everyone ready for dinner?’ he called. Then his mouth fell open as he took in the state of their new guest.

  ‘I’m ready for a glass of wine,’ said Izzy. ‘A big one.’

  Jeans. Everyone was wearing jeans, including Nina, who as usual had managed to put her own special stamp on them. A spotty scarf was threaded through the waist loops and a winking Betty Boop was stitched onto each back pocket. Matched with a red, off-the-shoulder top, she managed to look casual, yet funky and chic all at the same time. How did she do it? Izzy took another slug of red wine. She felt ridiculous. This outfit. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so excruciating. Most of the dust had been brushed away but the grease was never going to budge. And her heel was throbbing. She was grateful the fuss that greeted her arrival was starting to die down. Though it was kind of nice having Lachlan insist on patching up her heel with antiseptic and plaster.

  ‘Well, you know what they say – when life hands you lemons …’ Lachlan said, putting a plate in front of her. ‘… Open a bottle of tequila.’

  Nina laughed.

  ‘Or,’ he continued, ‘maybe more wine in your case, Izzy.’ He reached for the bottle, but Heath beat him to it, grabbing it with a flourish and filling her glass to the brim. ‘Gotta be quick around here,’ smiled Lachlan, though he shot her an expression of humorous terror and she smothered a laugh.

  ‘At least you know how to change a tyre, Izzy,’ he continued. ‘I’m so clueless I reckon I’m on the edge of losing my membership as an Aussie male. Heath and his mates will probably vote me off the island soon.’

  ‘It’s not that hard,’ Heath muttered, scraping one of Lachlan’s yabbies in beurre noisette onto his fork.

  ‘So, where did you work in Sydney, Lachlan?’ asked Izzy, spearing a yabby.

  ‘Um, the north side. Then the city … the Shire. All around really. Turns out I had a talent for selling.’ He smiled at Izzy.

  ‘Which agent was it?’ asked Heath.

  ‘Ah, it was the best agent possible – the free agent! I branched out on my own.’

  ‘Wow – you had your own business?’ said Ben. He took a sip of beer. ‘The real estate game in Sydney would be pretty cutthroat, I bet.’

  Lachlan put his cutlery down and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. ‘To tell you the truth, the best thing I ever did was walk away from it,’ he said. ‘Sure, I was good at it – made a lot of dough there for a while. But it’s soul-destroying. Well, for an old leftie with a weak spot for sob stories like me.’

  ‘What made up your mind?’ asked Nina.

  ‘I was selling a house in Mosman – stood to make, I don’t know, maybe 90 grand in commission. It looked fantastic, but it had dangerous structural defects. Bad wiring. I look at the building inspection report and tell them they’ll either have to drop their price or spend some serious money fixing things. Next day, they call me back. I knock on the door and the woman asks me to come upstairs, says she wants me to inspect her …’

  ‘Sketch?’ asked Heath.

  ‘No, not her sketch. Her falsified building inspection,’ said Lachlan meeting Heath’s gaze. ‘They’d had a fake report written up that she wanted me to flog to potential buyers, keeping out all the bad news. Oh, and they said they’d up my commission to 10 per cent – like more than 300K.’ He rested his hand on his chin.

  ‘Anyway, here was my dilemma,’ he said. ‘Do I take the money and run? After all, no skin off my nose. Or do I walk away from the most lucrative job I’d ever had?’

  There was a silence.

  ‘In the end it was a no-brainer. Best decision I ever made.’

  ‘Which was …?’ asked Ben carefully.

  ‘To walk away of course. How could I live knowing some bastard had just paid their life’s savings for a crappy house? Arseholes, the pair of them. North Shore’s full of their kind.’

  Good for you, thought Izzy. She knew the type exactly. Expensive schools for the kids, while you rip off the gardener. She loved the way he was so well-spoken yet self-deprecating – Hugh Grant, she decided. The tousled hair, the good-quality jumpers and leather jacket. Yes, that was it. Lachlan was a beefier version of Hugh Grant. Without the accent. And the money. This shiraz was delicious.

  ‘In the end it comes down to what your conscience can take,’ said Lachlan. ‘But listen to me going on about myself while the lamb’s drying out and the potatoes are burning.’ He stood and headed for the kitchen.

  ‘Can I help?’ offered Nina.

  ‘No, I’m good. Back in a tick.’

  ‘Your cousin’s hilarious,’ said Izzy. She felt her cheeks flush. ‘So, Ben,’ she continued, ‘are you moving back here for good?’

  ‘Think so – gotta help this old and grey serious one sort out his trees.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Ben’s going to do the prac year of his degree here, working with Heath on his land regeneration,’ said Nina.

  ‘Sounds like a good plan,’ said Izzy.

  Ben told them about his time in Sydney, and how while he loved parts of life there – the views, the harbour, the parties – there were other things he couldn’t stand.

  ‘Like what?’ asked Izzy. She was warming to Ben.

  ‘You know, the usual – the crowds, the traffic, the –’

  ‘Real estate agents,’ said Heath.

  Nina kicked him under the table just as Lachlan re-entered bearing lamb shanks and roast vegetables.

  ‘Dig in,’ he said as he sat back down next to Izzy. ‘Help yourselves.’

  ‘This looks amazing,’ she said.

  ‘Izzy,’ said Nina, passing the vegetables down the table, ‘you must tell Ben how I sent you to spy on Lachlan for me.’

  ‘Yes, I went undercover,’ laughed Izzy. ‘Just like James Bond. Except I’m female, obviously, and not a secret agent.’

  ‘And not a sexist pig,’ quipped Nina.

  ‘That too,’ agreed Izzy. ‘Anyway, I turned up where we knew the suspect was known to loiter …’

  ‘With intent,’ said Lachlan.

  ‘Obviously with intent,’ said Izzy. ‘And I saw him. Snapped him up so to speak – on my phone. As you can see, he’s the spitting image of the sketch. You saw the sketch, Ben?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s uncanny,’ he replied. ‘And it’s amazing how you two found each other.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say it was that amazing,’ said Heath slowly.

  Everyone looked at him.

  ‘Well, what would you call it?’ asked Lachlan, as he helped himself to more roast beetroot. He was smiling but Izzy detected an edge to his voice.

  ‘The
way I see it, it’s a coincidence, sure, but … you know,’ said Heath. ‘Jim was famous and Nina has had a lot of publicity after winning the Flynn. Surely you must’ve known about Jim or about Nina running these artists’ workshops?’

  ‘Yes, I’d heard of Jim obviously, but no, I wasn’t aware Nina had this business or even who Nina was,’ said Lachlan.

  ‘What’s your point, Heath?’ Nina had stopped eating.

  ‘No point. It’s just that Maggie shares everyone’s business and I wouldn’t be surprised if she let slip she knew you, Nina.’

  ‘So? What does that mean?’ Nina replied.

  ‘Nothing really. Just sayin’.’

  ‘More potatoes?’ asked Lachlan.

  Interesting, thought Izzy later. Everything Lachlan did, from serving the vegetables to chatting with Nina, seemed to irritate Heath and he didn’t mind showing it.

  ‘Here’s to … to … absent friends,’ said Ben, raising his glass, as Nina and Heath began clearing the table.

  ‘Here’s to absent minds,’ said Lachlan, holding out his spoon as if for the toast and then ‘noticing’ it was the wrong implement.

  Izzy laughed and then eyed Ben curiously. He seemed distracted as he clinked glasses. Not surprising when you considered his recent break-up. Olivia was obviously the subject of his toast. He was rugged looking like Heath. But whereas Heath was dark and serious, Ben was sandy-haired and funny. He was heavily muscled in the upper body – probably needed to be to haul himself in and out of the chair. Nina had told her about the plane crash that had killed their parents and broken Ben’s spine. Heath had been the pilot.

  Heath returned from the kitchen, Nina close behind him. ‘You two are not much alike,’ Izzy said. ‘Are you sure you’re brothers?’

  ‘There’s only room in this neighbourhood for one switched-at-birth story and Nina got it,’ said Ben. ‘But yeah, I know what you mean. I got the looks and the charisma, and poor old Heath just got what was left over.’

  Heath shook his head and smiled as he sat down. ‘Turn it up, Ben.’

  ‘I’m the smooth operator and he’s the serious one, see, Izzy,’ said Ben.