Outback Secrets by Rachael Johns
Chapter Three
As Henri stepped away from the bar and headed into the dining room, she took a moment to properly take in her surroundings. When she was a kid, sometimes her family had come here for dinner if her mum couldn’t be bothered cooking. It had been the only place in town that served a sit-down dinner, yet it had been anything but flash. She remembered she hated the smell of greasy food, beer-soaked carpets and smoke that seemed to permeate the building even though smokers had been relegated to the front verandah by then. Most often those evenings had ended with her mum complaining all the way back to the farm about the dirty plates or the weird smell in the restrooms and her dad saying that you couldn’t afford to be fussy in the country.
‘Arthur McArthur’s a good bloke. He does his best,’ he’d always say, ‘and at least we don’t have to do the washing up tonight!’
The pub she was standing in now did not look anything like the pub she remembered. Although she’d been in for the occasional drink on her trips home, whenever she stepped inside The Palace she was always a bit shocked by its transformation. While the layout was still the same, the walls once stained with offensive brown patches were now a soft buttery colour, and instead of the dented old beer signs that used to hang on them, there were classy black and white prints of other country pubs from all around Australia. The floorboards were so shiny they could be dangerous and the old 1960s furniture had been replaced with beautifully designed and handcrafted tables and chairs. There were also cosy nooks with leather armchairs and sofas, and the light fittings that cast a perfect glow over everything looked sophisticated and rather expensive.
It wasn’t your average outback pub—Henri could easily have just stepped off a street in Perth, Sydney or Melbourne into a funky bar—yet it had the warm, familiar vibe of a good country local, and apparently this was all down to the new publican, Liam Castle. Well, not exactly new, but in a town like Bunyip Bay you were new until you’d lived here at least three or four decades and if her maths was right, he must have only been here about one.
She glanced back to see him pouring more pints, chatting away with his customers. Henri didn’t know much about him, but everyone said he was a good bloke. He had to be a patient man to put up with some of the people in this place.
‘Henri, what’s the hold-up?’ called Tilley, from a large table in the middle of the dining room.
‘Coming,’ she hissed.
Everyone stood as she arrived, and she went around the table greeting them all. She’d been hoping for a night out to catch up with Frankie alone; aside from a couple of brief phone calls, her best friend had been unable to make the time for her yet. Henri understood she was busy, but she’d also really love a chance to talk to her without her fiancé or anyone else around. The only introduction needed was to Ryan’s handsome husband Grant, a drama teacher who commuted from Bunyip Bay to Geraldton for work. It was good to finally meet him after hearing so much about him. Until the two of them walked in here one night holding hands, no one had had any idea that Ryan was gay and, according to Henri’s mother, there’d been much mourning and gnashing of teeth among the single ladies in town. It had been the same when Adam had married single mum Stella.
Finally sinking into a chair, she was suddenly very aware that she was the only single person at the table. There had to be something in the water in Bunyip Bay. The last couple of years everyone Henri knew was pairing off at a rate of knots. Whenever she called home, it felt like Fiona told her about yet another person she’d grown up with either getting engaged or getting pregnant, neither of which appealed to her in the slightest.
A waitress Henri didn’t know came to take their orders and then conversation returned to the current hot topics in the Bay—the recent harvest, what everyone was doing for Christmas, and also the identity of the town’s mysterious benefactor. Although Henri had grown up with most of these people, she couldn’t help feeling a bit of an outsider as they talked. So much happened while she was away and, sometimes, she felt a little lost.
Over the years, her mum had kept her informed about Bunyip Bay’s philanthropist—debts had been paid, romantic getaways gifted to couples doing it tough; there’d been an anonymous donation for a brand-new nature playground at the primary school, and the last couple of years, a generous donation towards the town Christmas tree. The latest in this long list was a contribution to the Big Bunyip Fund, which Stella, Frankie and Ruby had been discussing last week.
‘So, does anyone have any idea who it is yet?’ Henri asked, more to feel part of the conversation than because she had any real curiosity.
Logan shook his head. ‘Nope, but my boss heard about it, and he reckons I should investigate. He thinks it’d make a good segment for our new podcast about feel-good stories from country towns.’
‘I listen to that podcast when I’m on the road,’ Henri said. ‘I really loved the one about the drag queens saving the bowling club.’
Logan smiled. ‘That was one of my favourites too. Those girls were a hoot.’
Drew picked up his beer. ‘But they also seemed happy to talk, whereas our bloke here clearly wants to remain anonymous. Maybe your boss should respect that.’
‘Who should respect what?’
Henri swivelled her head at the sound of a deep voice behind her to see Liam Castle standing there with a tray. As he leaned over and picked up her empty glass, she caught a whiff of some kind of woody cologne and inhaled deeply before she realised what she was doing. But he smelled good—much better than anyone surrounded by beer and pub grub should.
‘The mysterious benefactor,’ Tilley informed him. ‘We were just discussing his latest gift for the Big Bunyip. Logan’s boss wants him to try and get to the bottom of it.’
‘How do you know this so-called benefactor is a man?’ Liam asked as he collected the rest of the empty glasses.
All eyes around the table blinked, then Frankie exclaimed, ‘Oh my God, you’re right. How terribly sexist of us. Women can be rich too.’
‘Do you have any idea who it could be, Liam?’ asked Stella.
‘Nope.’ He jerked his head towards the bar. ‘My clientele is more the good hardworking variety, rather than millionaires.’
Everyone laughed.
‘Well, if you do hear anything,’ Logan said, ‘let me know.’
‘Will do.’
‘You really gunna pursue this?’ asked Stella.
Logan shrugged. ‘Look, if I don’t, Garry will put someone else on the job and they might not care about the town or the people the way I do; all they’ll want is to get a good story. If I do it, at least we can control the narrative.’
‘You sure you’re not just missing the excitement of your old job?’ James said with a smirk. Until hooking up with Frankie, Logan had worked for a newspaper in Perth. ‘I imagine drivetime radio and fiddling with the Bunyip News gets a little boring.’
‘Nothing boring about radio—you should hear some of the people who call in. But wouldn’t you guys like to see something in the local rag besides cricket scores, petty crimes and notices of the upcoming AGM?’
They all agreed it would be a nice change.
‘Can I get anyone any refills?’ Liam asked.
Henri nodded. ‘Yes, another Guinness please.’
Everyone gave their orders and Liam retreated to the bar.
‘You know, if this guy’s—I mean person’s—identity is revealed, they might put an end to the good deeds,’ Drew said as Liam retreated to get their drinks.
‘But the donations keep getting more and more outrageous,’ Frankie said with a shrug. ‘Maybe they want to be outed?’
‘I am curious about why whoever it is does it,’ Logan admitted. ‘And where they got all their money from.’ He looked to Drew. ‘Shouldn’t you be a little interested as well? I mean, what if it’s dirty money?’
Drew snorted and shook his head. ‘You journos have vivid imaginations. Why don’t you stick to radio and writing up missing cat notices in the Bunyip News. I’ll stick to fighting the bad guys.’
‘Why do you care so much about me finding out?’ Logan teased. ‘You got something to hide? Didn’t the benefactor give Ruby a whole load of money for new horses a couple of years back?’
‘Hah,’ Ruby said, ‘if you’re asking if Drew is the mysterious benefactor, then that would be mega news to me. And I’d be very disappointed that he hasn’t forked out for the kitchen renovation I’m desperate for.’
‘If you’re such a good researcher,’ Drew added, and Henri couldn’t tell whether he was amused or pissed off, ‘then you’d know that the random acts began long before I arrived in the Bay.’
She grinned as the discussion heated up and people either sided with Logan or Drew. But just when it was really starting to get interesting, Frankie put a stop to it, very obviously changing the topic of conversation.
‘So, Henri,’ she said loudly after Liam had delivered the next round of drinks, ‘tell us what you’ve been up to. Any exciting stories from the sky?’
Exciting stories?Henri’s stomach tightened and she reached for the comfort of her glass. ‘Um … not really. I was mustering up north until November. Before that I was in Quebec spraying budworms.’
‘Where are you off to next?’ Logan wanted to know.
‘I’ve got a fire contract starting up down south just after Christmas and then later in the year I’m heading over to Canada again.’ At least she hoped she was.
‘Wow,’ Ruby said, ‘you certainly get around. Don’t you ever get sick of living out of a suitcase?’
‘Not really. You get used to travelling light.’
‘And do you get much chance for romance on the road, or rather in the air?’ Grant asked, his arm wrapped around Ryan’s shoulder.
Henri chose to ignore the question, taking a large gulp of her Guinness instead. There hadn’t been what she’d call ‘romance’ in years, but people still insisted on asking and it really got her goat. She was fairly certain single men didn’t get asked this question so much.
At the other end of the table, Tilley laughed. ‘Romance? Much to Mum’s disgust, Henri doesn’t know the meaning of the word.’
‘My lifestyle isn’t really conducive to a relationship,’ Henri explained, annoyed that she felt she had to. ‘And I’m not really the settling-down type anyway.’
‘Don’t you want to have babies?’ Stella asked, looking at Henri as if she had reindeer antlers growing out of her head.
Henri didn’t want to offend the pregnant woman—not that anyone seemed to be worried about offending her! The last week at home with her mother, sometimes she’d felt like she was living in a Jane Austen novel where all anyone cared about was marrying people off. And procreating. She’d hoped for a reprieve from that tonight.
‘Nieces and nephews are quite enough for me,’ she said finally.
‘What about sex?’ This from Tilley, but everyone leaned forward a little, their eyes twinkling with interest.
She shot her sister a warning glare. ‘I’m not a nun, if that’s what you’re asking.’
It might have been years since her last serious relationship, but she knew how and where to find someone to scratch the itch when the need arose. And she had a very good vibrator when the available talent didn’t take her fancy.
‘Yeah, from what she tells me, Henri does okay in that department,’ Frankie said with a knowing wink and Henri could have hugged her.
‘I bet I could find you someone,’ Grant said, as if he hadn’t heard a word of what she and Frankie had just said.
‘Ooh yes,’ Stella exclaimed as the others nodded in excited agreement. Even Frankie.
What the hell?
Before Henri could restate that she wasn’t on the lookout for love, sex or marriage, Grant beamed. ‘I’ve become Bunyip Bay’s unofficial matchmaker.’
Ruby nodded. ‘It’s true. He’s already married off Sally the vet, three teachers and a number of lonely farmers.’
He shrugged—‘I can’t help myself. I’m considering setting up a business on the main street’—and then winked.
‘But since you’re a friend of mine,’ Ryan said, smiling at his husband, ‘he’ll be happy to give you mate’s rates, won’t you?’
Grant nodded. ‘Of course. This’ll be fun. I have a few ideas of potential beaus already. I could have you married off by Christmas.’
Once again everyone laughed and James said, ‘If you succeed, you’ll make my mother-in-law one very happy lady.’
Henri gritted her teeth—what part of ‘I’m not really the settling-down type’ did they not understand? Ninety-nine per cent of her socks were single, and you didn’t see them crying about it! There was nothing worse than hanging out with a bunch of happy couples who didn’t think anyone could be happy and content by themselves. Or thought her career so unimportant that she’d happily toss it in to return to the Bay to be somebody’s Mrs, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. She didn’t need her mum, her sister, or some guy she’d only just met sticking their noses in where it wasn’t wanted.
Why on earth had she thought coming home so early was a good idea? She’d barely been back a week and already she was feeling claustrophobic and homicidal. And she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Frankie about her problem. She should have gone to Bali and treated herself to a month at a spa, then flown home on Christmas Eve.
Ah, the benefit of hindsight.
‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘but I’m not looking for marriage so I wouldn’t want to waste your time. Anyone need another drink?’
Not waiting for their replies, she pushed to a stand and made a beeline for the bar.
‘Another pint?’ Liam asked.
Henri was about to say yes, when she changed her mind. She suspected she was going to need something stronger to get her through the rest of the evening. ‘Actually, make it a whiskey. On the rocks.’
‘Single or double?’
She glanced back towards the dining room where her sister and friends were no doubt plotting her wedding to some guy she hadn’t even met, or worse, someone she had.
‘Better make it a double.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Not enjoying dinner?’
‘Dinner’s fine,’ she replied, ‘it’s the company that’s pissing me off.’