Mat had continued to travel widely in the time Ellie had known her, but she no longer wrote for publication. Her brother was as worldly as she was, and she made a point of visiting him wherever he was posted. Her last official expedition had been the month before she’d become Ellie’s guardian. Rhiannon’s and Matilda’s families had been friends when the two women were growing up, and although they were quite different, they’d stayed in contact over the years. Mat was probably the only person Rhiannon could call a friend – for a time, anyway. So when Ellie was born Matilda was the obvious choice for godmother. Later, when Rhiannon’s third husband scored a contract overseas and didn’t want Ellie tagging along, Rhiannon asked Mat if Ellie could stay with her. Matilda didn’t think twice about putting her life and dreams on hold to look after the teenage girl. She welcomed Ellie with open arms and made her life in Hope Junction a good one. But Rhiannon’s abandonment had put the nail in the coffin of their friendship. As far as Ellie knew, they hadn’t spoken since.
And so for Matilda, Ellie would do anything. Including try her hand at cooking.
Joyce was a frequent visitor at Mat’s house, seeming to spend more time there than she did at the caravan park. Ellie wondered if Joyce’s guests simply fended for themselves. But hell, she was grateful for the company of the eccentric woman, who also happened to be a supremely good cook. Her cuisine was better than Ellie had tasted at some of Sydney’s top restaurants, and the best thing was Joyce was a great teacher. She took Ellie under her wing, giving her something to think about other than Flynn or life back in Sydney.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t somewhat homesick. While Mat’s place was the only true home she’d ever known, and while she loved spending time with her friend, Ellie missed the routine and familiarity of her life back east. She simply couldn’t relax in Hope Junction and she missed the show, her friends and the cast – her home away from home. Emails and the internet were her lifelines. Her iPad was her first port of call in the morning and the last thing she did at night before she went to sleep.
‘What’s that woeful look on your face?’ asked Ellie as she returned to the living room. It was Wednesday afternoon and she’d just waved off Eileen and Joyce, the last visitors for the day.
‘Just thinking,’ Mat smiled, looking anything but relaxed. Ellie flopped into the armchair opposite. ‘I’m worried you’re overexerting yourself looking after me and doing all this cooking.’
Ellie rolled her shoulders and pretended to do arm exercises. ‘I’m using muscles I never thought I had, that’s for sure. Can you imagine … Me? Cooking?’
‘It’s certainly a sight I hadn’t expected,’ Mat chuckled, before adopting a serious look again. ‘But you’re missing Sydney, aren’t you?’
A cold washed over Ellie but she shrugged off the suggestion. ‘It’s not easy being here, but I’m glad I came.’ She forced a smile, hoping she hadn’t made her discomfort too obvious. She’d been back almost a fortnight now, and Matilda was right, but she never wanted her godmother to feel like a burden.
Mat made a tsking noise between her teeth. ‘There you go playing things down again. You’ve barely left the house in over a week, except to take me to rehearsals.’
Ellie offered Mat a reprimanding look. ‘Umm, sweetie, I hate to remind you, but that’s why I’m here.’
Mat tossed Ellie’s look right back at her. ‘You know what I mean. Holing up with an old bird like me isn’t healthy for a pretty young thing.’
‘Stop being silly,’ said Ellie, starting to feel uncomfortable. She wouldn’t put it past Mat to arrange for a group of twenty-something locals to take her out to the pub. She couldn’t think of anything worse. ‘I came here for you and I’m staying until you’re free of wheelchairs and crutches and casts. I’d never forgive myself if I left too early and you hurt yourself again. You mean the world to me, you know that.’
She saw Mat’s determined concern soften as a smile formed on her lips. But then she pressed her hand against her heart, and Ellie wondered, for a second, if she was having difficulty breathing.
‘Are you okay?’ Ellie leaped to her feet and crossed to Matilda. ‘Did you choke on something? Can I get you a drink?’
Mat placed her hand on Ellie’s forearm and shook her head. She breathed deeply, in and out for a few moments, and then, ‘I’m fine, honestly. Just swallowed some air the wrong way.’
‘Well, good,’ said Ellie, wrapping her arms around Mat and hugging tightly. ‘Because I need you around a lot longer yet.’
Matilda just smiled.
Despite not having a social life or a day job, Ellie kept herself busy looking after Mat, ensuring she ate a balanced diet and got enough rest, and doing what they did best whenever they were together. Talk. She therefore hadn’t finished the awnings as quickly as she’d imagined.
‘There,’ she said to Matilda, who was sitting in the wheelchair on the front lawn, catching some afternoon sun. Ellie climbed down from the ladder and admired her handiwork. ‘Finally done.’
‘And not a broken ankle to show for it,’ laughed Mat, knocking on her plaster cast. ‘What will you do with your time now?’
‘Well,’ said Ellie, dumping the paintbrush in the bucket of metho on the verandah, ‘I was thinking I might come and watch the rehearsals tonight.’
Matilda gasped. ‘What? You serious?’
Ellie shrugged. ‘Sure. How bad could it be?’ A smile lit Matilda’s face as Ellie pondered her own question. She didn’t want to count her chickens, but she hadn’t had an unkind word from anyone in town for over a week. Granted, she hadn’t left the house any more than she absolutely had to, but maybe it was time to change that. Maybe it was time to be brave. She was in a better mood than she’d been in for quite a while. With the benefit of time, she realised her conversation with Flynn had been cathartic. If he could forgive her, what right did anyone else have to harbour a grudge? And with her cheerful frame of mind, she might just tell that to anyone who dared get in her way.
There was the added fact she was itching to be involved with some acting. She missed the comradeship of her colleagues back in Sydney. Hopefully watching the theatrical group would help alleviate some of the homesickness she felt for
Lake Street
.
‘It’ll be brilliant.’ Matilda clapped her hands like an exuberant child. ‘Let’s go get ready.’
Ellie glanced at her watch and laughed. ‘We’ve got hours before we have to be there.’
In those said hours she folded washing, ironed clothes and conjured up two-minute noodles for dinner while Matilda chattered on, telling Ellie the who’s who of Hope Junction’s reformed theatrical society.
‘Lucy Quartermaine pretty much plays herself as the teenage daughter of a farmer.’
Ellie’s ears pricked up at the mention of Flynn’s sister, but she focused on emptying the seasoning sachet and hoped Mat didn’t
notice her interest. What kind of person had she grown into? Was she good at playing her part? Was she as popular at school as Flynn had been? But she kept her lips firmly shut as she waited for the description of the next person.
Ellie had told Mat the basics of her conversation with Flynn – and managed not to cry at the finality of it – but they’d pretty much gone back to him being a no-go subject since then. It was best that way. Ellie needed to move on, to destroy the stupid hope in her heart that the future may have had a happy ending for her and Flynn. It wouldn’t. Yet every mention of him was like a sugar cube dangled before a hungry horse.
By the time Ellie and Mat arrived at the Memorial Hall that evening, Ellie thought she could write a book on the members of the group. They sounded like a quirky bunch of characters and she couldn’t wait to watch them from the sidelines. Trying to look inconspicuous, she wheeled Matilda into the hall and led her down to the stage. She sat on a chair next to Matilda and tried not to feel awkward as only a smattering of the people that greeted her godmother bothered to acknowledge her.
Ellie was thankful when Mrs Ellery took centre stage and clanged an old tambourine to get everyone’s attention. The chairs around her filled quickly. She cast her eyes about surreptitiously and her gaze caught on the cold stare of Lucy Quartermaine. Her heart lunged towards her throat. If looks could kill, she’d have been sprawled across the wooden floorboards, dead.
She turned back to face the front but could almost feel Lucy’s ice-blue eyes boring into her.
It’s sweet
, she told herself. Lucy was just being protective of her big brother. But somehow Lucy’s snub hurt more than all the others put together. Lucy had once meant the world to Ellie.
‘Okay. Before we start …’ Eileen’s voice carried right to the back of the hall, much farther than anyone was sitting. Ellie turned
her attentions to her former teacher, attempting to forget about Lucy. ‘I just want to welcome our old friend Elenora Hughes to the group. All the way from Sydney, she brings a wealth of knowledge about the dramatic arts, and I hope you’ll all make her feel welcome and pick her brains for advice.’
Eileen spoke as if Ellie were here to become part of the group. She thought she should put her straight, raising her hand to speak, but then realised how this might sound. As if she thought herself above everyone else. She withdrew her hand, nodded thanks to Mrs Ellery and looked around the room. Surprisingly, she met a few warm smiles. She memorised these faces, planning to approach them later. But there was little time to ponder who might be friend and who was definitely foe. Eileen tapped her tambourine again and most of the chairs were pushed back into a semicircle. Ellie felt the excitement pumping through her veins as the rehearsal began. Shifting Matilda back slightly, she stayed seated beside her, following the script in her godmother’s lap. Matilda had the role of prompting.
At this stage of rehearsals, it was to be expected that they wouldn’t know their lines perfectly. Ellie expected some rustiness, but she was taken aback by just how bad the majority of the actors were. No one knew their lines. Some shouted loudly and others could barely be heard. None of them seemed to have been told not to position their back to the audience.
‘How long till the production?’ whispered Ellie to Matilda.
Mat looked at Ellie and cringed. ‘They’re terrible, aren’t they?’
‘Wellll …’ Ellie wouldn’t say terrible, but diabolical came to mind. If there wasn’t a rapid improvement, the audience would be throwing tomatoes and demanding their money back.
Matilda raised her eyebrows as if daring Ellie to sugar the truth.
‘Okay.’ Ellie nodded. ‘They’re terrible.’
As the amateurs continued in front of them, Matilda asked, ‘Is there any hope?’
‘Sure. Some have real potential.’ She nodded her head at a middle-aged man acting out a scene with Lucy Quartermaine. ‘Those two are almost good. And I wouldn’t say any of them are complete write-offs. They just need a little tuition.’
At that very moment Eileen Ellery happened to lean in and heard the tail end of Ellie’s assessment. Unfortunately, she jumped to the wrong conclusion.
‘Oh, would you mind? I seem to have lost my touch, but I’m sure if they had a professional like you instructing them, they’d catch on in no time.’
‘Umm.’ When she arrived two weeks ago, there would have been nothing on this planet – not even Matilda’s desperate plea – that would have induced her to join a community theatre. Nothing. But a fortnight was a long time. Facing up to Flynn had made her feel stronger. She couldn’t change the past but she’d made peace with him, and that, she felt, would make it easier to walk the streets of Hope with her head held high. And a fortnight was a long time to go without doing something you loved.
Although she’d never planned on acting as a career, it had become everything to her. Her life was her job, and she missed being Stella Williams. The last few days she’d found herself surfing the
Lake Street
website, reading up on the latest news. She welcomed Dwayne’s emails every few days, his checking to see how she was, his persistent asking when she’d be ready to return to the show. She couldn’t go back yet, but she couldn’t just sit around either. Now the awnings were finished, she needed another pastime. And taking on this task would mean another arena where she got to spend time with Mat. That had to be a bonus. But then Ellie thought about Lucy’s cold stare. She didn’t want to thrust herself on people who didn’t want her.
‘I’d be happy to,’ she said finally to Mrs Ellery, ‘but I’d like you to talk to the group about it first. Let them decide if they want me
on board. As you know, I’m not very popular around here anymore. I wouldn’t want to cause unrest in your group.’
Mrs Ellery sighed and shook her head. ‘People need to stop holding grudges, but I do understand what you’re saying. You’re a wise young lady, Ellie. How about you take Mat home and I’ll have a quick meeting with the members? I’ll pop round for morning tea tomorrow and let you know the outcome.’
‘Sounds good.’
Ellie picked up her bag and checked Matilda was comfortable in the wheelchair before walking them home in the fresh evening air.
She thought she’d sleep well after the manual labour of the last few days, but her mind was abuzz, second-guessing what the members would decide. She tossed and turned, wishing Mrs Ellery had agreed to call her that night. The more she thought about this opportunity, the more she wanted it. She wanted the chance to show the town the real Ellie. She needed them to see that she could be a team player, that she could be an asset to the town.
Chapter Nine
Life went on post-Ellie, as Flynn had come to call the conversation they’d had by the waterhole. He thanked the Lord it had been busy on the farm in the lead-up to Black Stump’s annual ram sale. Getting organised for it had given him little time to think about anything but work over the last week. Aside from driving Lucy into town for rehearsals – so his mum didn’t have to drive late at night – Flynn had spent most of his days preparing the ram shed: clipping dags, making up the pens, checking for lameness, crosschecking data. Anything and everything to ensure it was all perfect on the day.