‘Tell me about it. He’s got a fair point, but I’m kind of short on choice. It’s not like women are rushing to move into Settlers Bridge.’ Some of Charity’s friends had been keen the previous year, until they’d discovered that wealthy, wine-swilling graziers were pretty much a myth in the arid sheep and wheat belt, and they’d be more likely to end up with an overworked guy who’d have a beer out with his mates once a week where they all avoided talking about their killer overdrafts.
‘I don’t know about that,’ Matt said. ‘We’ve done all right over the last few years. There’s been Roni, obviously. Gabrielle, Lucie—’
‘Yeah, and ’scuse the pun, but you blokes got ontopof that mini-invasion quick enough,’ he interrupted before Matt added Natasha to the list. That one still stung, although it wasn’t one of his mates he’d lost her to.
‘Can’t help it if you lack focus, Ham.’ It was no secret in a town this size that Hamish’s impulsiveness and short attention span had landed him in strife throughout his school years. ‘Anyway, what’s the story with Jemma? As Roni pointed out, it wasn’t like she bothered talking to anyone but you the other week or even at the clean-up at Tracey’s place.’
‘Not overly friendly, though, is she? And I don’t know that I’d really describe what we had going as conversation.’ It had been more stimulating than that, an undeclared sparring contest that had shocked him into competing.
Matt chuckled. ‘That should suit you just fine. I didn’t think conversational skills ranked on your tick-a-box?’
‘You’re embarrassingly out of date, dude. We sensitive new-age men prefer to usesearch settingsto finesse our requirements.’
‘Fancy name, same thing. Anyway, I’m sure Roni can find out from Sam when Jemma’s likely to be back in town.’
‘Not much point, mate. Even if she’d been as friendly as a politician, Jemma di Angelis is not the type to settle for life in the country.’
He ended the call, then sat staring at the old-school rotary phone. Funny how he always used that for farm admin, rather than his mobile. It was as though holding the solid cream chunk of—what was it? Plastic? Bakelite?—seemed to lend authenticity to his right to make farming decisions, the coiled line tying him to his forebears and their years of work taming this land. Being seated behind the untidy desk, phone in hand, gave him a feeling of authority and direction.
And right now, he should harness that sense of determination and call Hayden Paech. Thing was, he wanted to give Wheaty a heads-up about Tara, yet it wasn’t an entirely altruistic decision. It wouldn’t take long for Wheaty to hear that his sister had spent the night at Hamish’s place, and he needed to make sure his mate knew that it was all above board. First problem was that his reputation made that seem unlikely. Second problem was that Tara didn’t remember what had happened. She’d been equal parts stoked to wake up in his bed—although alone—and irritated that the previous nightwas a complete blank. Despite the memory wipe, she was also adamant that she hadn’t taken drugs.
Ethan was equally positive that she’d been on a trip and he’d know if anyone would.
Hamish blew out a long breath, tapping a pen on the desk as he weighed up his options. If it had been his sibling, wouldn’t he want to know there might be a problem?
Then again, even though he had trouble thinking of her as anything but a kid, Tara was an adult. Didn’t she have a right to privacy?
Not that there was any in this town.
Hamish tossed the pen across the desk, watching it skitter between dirty coffee mugs and paper mountains. Hell, he resented being put in this situation, it made him feel like a snitch, tattling to her big brother.
Instead, he dialled Ethan. He was relieved when his mate picked up; he was never sure what hours a university lecturer worked.
‘Ham. What’s up?’
‘Mate, I know we went through this on the weekend, but how sure are you that Tara was using?’
Ethan’s sigh held a note of pity, rather than frustration. ‘Like I said, the signs were all there. Unmistakeable to someone who knows the gear.’
‘But where the hell would she get it from? I mean, Settlers isn’t perfect, but it’s pretty clean. There’s always been some weed around, but you’re talking the hard stuff.’
‘Like your local GP said at the Action Group meeting last year, nowhere is drug free. Thing is …’
Ethan trailed off and Hamish’s hope surged—Ethan had realised he’d jumped to conclusions. It made sense that, if she’d never tried it before, marijuana could have hit Tara like a grain truck. It wasn’t like she had any bodyweight to absorb the effects.
‘What if old Dave Jaensch was right?’ Ethan said finally. ‘What if the skatepark has brought shit into town?’
Ethan had been one of the main motivators behind getting the park built for the local kids and he took the responsibility seriously.
‘Can’t say I’ve noticed anything,’ Hamish said. ‘Apart from the shearers in the pub last week, it’s the same crew everywhere. Though it’s not like I hang around the skatepark.’
‘That’s just it,’ Ethan said heavily. ‘Charlee’s dad reckoned some sketchy elements had been seen at the park.’
Belatedly, Hamish recalled Tracey saying something similar the other weekend. He’d been too focused on Jemma and her muddy daks to take it in.
‘So I spent the rest of the weekend down there, keeping an eye out,’ Ethan continued. ‘There was nothing going down. Mostly the younger kids trying out their tricks. Charlee reckons it’s been clean every time she’s been down there lately, but she’s not around much. Not really her scene anymore. The skateboarding, that is.’ Hamish could hear Ethan’s concern for Charlee in his brittle laugh. ‘But one of the kids said that she saw Tara there on Friday afternoon, talking with a bunch of guys in a ute. Strangers. They didn’t use the skatepark, just kind of hung around.’
‘She swears she wasn’t anywhere her drink could have been spiked. Even though her memory’s shot, she’s dead set about that.’
