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The cray-pots weren’t hard enough.
He’d check the Lady Nell’s propeller, he decided. It had fouled last time out. They’d got it clear but maybe it’d be wise to give it a thorough check.
Ten minutes later he had a scuba tank on, lowering himself over the side.
He should do this with someone on board keeping watch. If there was an accident …
If there was an accident no one gave a toss; it was his business what he did with his life.
He had scores of employees, dependent on him for their livelihood.
He also had one tenant. Dependent?
If Horse decided to head for the beach again, he was bigger than she could possibly hold.
It was none of his business. She didn’t need him. The dog didn’t need him. No one did. Even if something happened to him, the legal stuff was set up so this town’s fishing fleet would survive.
How morbid was that? He was about to check a propeller. He’d done it a hundred times.
He needed to see things in perspective.
He dived underwater. Right now underwater seemed safer than the surface—and a whole lot clearer.
* * *
Henrietta left and came back with supplies, and Nikki was set. Dog food, dog bed, dog bowls. Collar, lead, treats, ball times six … Practically a car full.
‘You’ll need a kennel, but they don’t come prefabricated in Horse’s size,’ Henrietta told her. ‘I’ve brought you a trampoline bed instead. You’ll need to get a kennel built by winter. Oh, and there’s no need to spread it round town that I’ve brought this. Normally my new owners need to show me their preparations before I’ll agree to let them have the dog.’
‘So why the special treatment?’ Nikki had made tea. Henrietta was sipping Earl Grey from one of Nikki’s dainty cups, looking a bit uncomfortable. Maybe she ought to buy some mugs.
Maybe her life was going to change in a few other ways, she thought. Her apartment was furnished with the elegant possessions she’d acquired for the Sydney apartment. Some her parents had given her. Some she and Jon had chosen together. This teaset was antique, given to her by Jon for her last birthday.
The owner of a dog like Horse wouldn’t serve tea in cups like this. She hadn’t thought it through until now, but maybe she should shop …
‘I hate putting dogs down,’ Henrietta was saying. ‘Sometimes, though, I don’t have a choice. I can’t keep them all. And if potential owners don’t care enough to commit to buying or scrounging dog gear, then they don’t care enough to be entrusted to a dog. These dogs have been through enough. I’d rather put them down than sentence them to more misery.’
‘But me …’
‘You live with Gabe,’ Henrietta said simply. ‘You mistreat Horse, you’ll have him to answer to. Even if he says it’s nothing to do with him, he’ll be watching. And that’s the second thing. This place without a dog is wrong. Gabe needs a dog. If he gets it via you, that’s fine by me.’
‘He’s not getting him via me. This is my call. My dog.’
‘Yes, but you live with Gabe,’ Henrietta repeated, and finished her tea in one noisy gulp. ‘Living so close, you’re almost family, and now you have a dog. Welcome to Banksia Bay, and welcome to your new role as dog owner. Any more questions, ask Gabe. He’s grumpy and dour and always a loner but he has reason to be. Underneath he’s a good man, and he’ll never let a dog suffer. He treated Jem like gold.’ Then she hesitated. Made to say something. Hesitated again.
Nikki watched her face. Wondered what she’d been about to say. Then asked what she’d like to know. ‘Could you tell me about him?’ she ventured. ‘What happened to his mother?’
Henrietta considered for a long moment and then shrugged.
‘I shouldn’t say, but why not? If you don’t hear it from me you’ll hear it from a hundred other people in this town. Okay, potted history. Gabe’s mother died of cancer when he was eight. His dad was an oaf and a bully. He was also a miser. He forced Gabe to leave school at fourteen, used him as an unpaid deck hand. Maybe Gabe would have left but luckily—and I will say luckily—he died when Gabe was eighteen. He left a fortune. He left no will, so Gabe inherited. Gabe was a kid, floundering, desperately unhappy—and suddenly rich. So along came Lisbette, a selfish cow, all surface glitter, taking advantage of little more than a boy. She married him and she fleeced him, just like that.’
‘Oh, no …’
‘I’d have horsewhipped her if I’d had my way,’ Henrietta said grimly. ‘But she was gone. And Gabe took it hard. He still had his dad’s boat and this house, but little else. So he took Jem and headed off to the West, to the oil rigs. A good seaman can make a lot if he’s prepared to take risks and, from what I can gather, Gabe took more than a few. Then the fishing here started to falter and suddenly Gabe returned. He’s good with figures, good with fishing, good with people. He almost single-handedly pulled the fleet back together. But he’s shut himself off for years and so far the only one to touch that is Jem.’ She touched the big dog’s soft ears. ‘So maybe … maybe this guy can do the same. Or maybe even his owner can.’
‘Sorry?’ Nikki said, startled.
‘Just thinking,’ Henrietta said hastily, and rose to leave. ‘Dreaming families for my dogs is what I do. Good luck to the three of you.’
She looked at the teacup. Grinned. ‘Amazing,’ she said. ‘They say owners end up looking like their dogs. These cups fit poodles, not wolfhounds.’ She grinned down at Horse, asleep draped over Nikki’s feet, and then looked back to Nikki. ‘Poodle,’ she said. ‘Maybe now, but not for much longer. I’m looking forward to big changes around here. For everyone.’
Gabe slipped underwater, checked the propeller and inspected the hull. Minutely. It was the best checked hull in the fleet. Then he went back to mending cray-pots. By nine he was the only person in the harbour.
The rest of his boats were out, and he was stuck on dry land. Because of Nikki.
What was she about, removing his alarm? Telling Hattie to go without him?
He’d needed to sleep, he conceded. His head still ached.
Because she’d hit him.
It was an accident. She meant no harm.
She meant to keep the dog. Horse.
It was a stupid name for a dog. A dog needed a bit of dignity.
Dignity.
She’d have to get that fur unmatted, he thought, and getting the tangles out of that neglected coat was a huge job. Did she know what she was letting herself in for?
It was nothing to do with him. Nothing! He wasn’t going near.
She was living right next door to him. With her dog who needed detangling.
He’d yelled at her. Because she’d picked up a few rocks.
He’d behaved appallingly.
Why?
He knew why. And it wasn’t the memory of his mother. It wasn’t the dog. It was more.
It couldn’t be more. He didn’t want more, and more wasn’t going to happen.
It was dark. Time to head home.
Maybe he could take Jem’s old brushes across to her. A peace offering.
That wasn’t more. It was sensible. It felt … okay.
But when he got home there wasn’t a light on, apart from the security light he kept on in the shared porch.
Were she and the dog asleep?
She’d slept this afternoon. He’d seen her, curled on the hearth with the dog.
With Horse.
They were nothing to do with him.
He glanced at the gap in the stone wall. Sensed the faint echo of Nikki. And Horse.
By his side … Shades of Jem.
He was going nuts. The hit on his head had obviously been harder than he thought. Ghosts were everywhere, even to the feel of Jem beside him. Jem had always been with him, on the boat, under his bed, by the fire, a heartbeat by his side.
Whoa, he was maudlin. Get over it.
Disoriented, he found himself heading for the beach. A man could stare at the sea in the moonlight. Find some answers?
But the only answers he found on the beach were Nikki and Horse.
CHAPTER FIVE
THEY were sitting just above the high water mark, right near the spot where Horse had stood and howled last night. Gabe saw them straight away, unmistakable, the silhouette of the slight woman and the huge, rangy dog framed against a rising moon.
Maybe he’d better call out. Warn her of his approach. Who knew what she was carrying tonight?
‘Nikki!’
She turned. So did Horse, uttering a low threatening growl that suddenly turned into an unsure whine. Maybe the dog was as confused as he was.
‘Gabe?’ She couldn’t see him—he was still in shadows. She sounded scared.
‘It’s Gabe.’ He said it quickly, before she fired the poker.
‘Are you still angry?’
Deep breath. Get this sorted. Stop being an oaf. ‘I need to apologise,’ he said, walking across the beach to them. ‘I was out of line. Whether you keep Horse is none of my business. And snapping about the stones was nuts. Can we blame it on the hit on the head and move on?’
‘Sure,’ she said, but she sounded wary. ‘I did hit you. I guess I can afford to cut you some slack.’
‘Thank you,’ he said gravely. ‘Are you two moon watching?’
‘Horse refuses to settle.’ She shifted along the log she was perched on so there was room for him as well. ‘He whined and whined, so finally I figured we might as well come down here and see that no one’s coming. So he can finally settle into our new life.’
‘Your new life?’ he said cautiously, sorting wheat from chaff. ‘You really intend changing your life?’
‘My life is changed anyway,’ she said. ‘That’s what comes of falling for a king-sized rat. It’s messed with my serenity no end.’
Don’t ask. It was none of his business.
But she wasn’t expecting him to ask. She was staring out to sea, talking almost to herself, and her self containment touched him as neediness never could.
Since when had he ever wanted to be involved?
Horse nuzzled his hand. He patted the dog and said, ‘You fell for a king-sized rat?’
Had he intended to ask? Surely not.
‘My boss.’
He had no choice now.
‘You want to tell me about it?’
She had no intention of telling him. She hadn’t told anyone. The guy she’d thought she loved was married.
Her parents knew she’d split with Jonathan but both her parents were on their third or fourth partner; splits were no big deal. And in the office, to her friends, she’d hung onto her pride. Her pride seemed like all she had left.
But here, now, sitting on the beach with Horse between them, pride and privacy no longer seemed important.
So she told him. Bluntly. Dispassionately, as if it had happened to someone else, not to her.
‘Jonathan Ostler of Ostler Engineering,’ she said, her voice cool and hard. ‘International engineering designer. Smooth, rich, efficient. Hates mixing business with pleasure. My boss. He asked me out four years ago. Six months later we were sharing an apartment but no one in the office was to know. Jonathan thought it’d mess with company morale. So … In the office we were so businesslike you wouldn’t believe. If we were coming to work at the same time we’d split up a block away so we’d never arrive together. He addressed me as Nikki but I addressed him as Mr Ostler. Strictly formal.’
‘Sounds weird.’
‘Yes, but I could see his point,’ she said. ‘Sleeping with the boss is hardly the way to endear yourself to the rest of the staff, and Jon was overseas so much it wasn’t an effort. A few people knew we were together but not many. So there I was, dream job, dream guy, dream apartment, four years. Dreaming weddings, if you must know. Starting to be anxious he didn’t want to settle, but too stupidly in love to push it. Then two months ago there was an explosion in a factory where we’d been overseeing changes. The call came in the middle of the night—hysterical—our firm could be sued for millions. Jon caught the dawn plane to Düsseldorf with minutes to spare, and in the rush he left his mobile phone sitting on his—on our—bedside table. The next day our office was crazy. The Düsseldorf situation was frightening and the phone was going nuts. Jonathan’s phone. Finally, I answered it. It was Jonathan’s wife. In London. Their eight-year-old had been in a car accident. Please could I tell her where Jon was.’
‘Ouch.’
‘I coped,’ she said, a tinge of pride warming her voice as she remembered that ghastly moment. ‘I made sympathetic noises. I made sure Jonathan Junior wasn’t in mortal danger, I got the details. Then I left a message with the manager of the Düsseldorf factory, asking Jon to phone his wife. I told him to say the message was from Nikki. Then I moved out of our apartment. Jonathan returned a week later, and I’d already arranged to move here, to do my work via the Internet.’
‘But you still work for him?’
‘Personal and business don’t mix.’
‘Like hell they don’t,’ he snapped. ‘I’ve had relationships go sour between the crew. It messes with staff morale no end, and there’s no way they can work together afterwards.’
‘I’m good at my work.’ But her uncertainty was growing and she couldn’t put passion into her voice. ‘The pay’s great.’
‘Can you work for yourself?’
‘It’s a specialist industry,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t set up in competition to Jon. I could work for someone else, but it would have to be overseas.’
‘So why not go overseas?’
