Summer Bay High

[Skykat]

That was really good you two. I really enjoy Cassie in this fic - there are so few fics that mention her - let alone give her the depth and sensitivity that you've done here. Her and Kane would make a most intriguing pairing. Well done.

You might or might not like this chapter then...

Yes people you did hear me right, one full chapter and just in time for christmas.

Unfortunately I cannot take credit for this chapter. You know when you plan something in your head for ages but when it comes to actually writing it, you just can't do it? Well that was the big problem I had with this chapter. Fortunately for me I love music understood exactly where I was coming from and wrote it for me, far better than I would have done. She suggested crediting this chapter as a guest chapter so that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm sure you'll agree its one of the best chapters of this fic so far and she has my biggest thanks for writing this for me.

Enjoy...and happy christmas!!!

Chapter 11

“Hey, Mac! What you got there?” Cassie sounded strangely croaky, Martha thought. And she looked flushed too.

If Martha hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn her friend had been crying. But why on earth would Cassie be crying? This was a party. And not just any party either, but THE party of the year. Hayley’s party, that only ultra cool people got invites to, and the dags and dropkicks and uglies of Summer Bay High got to go sick with envy that they hadn’t. Cass had probably just had a bit too much to drink, s’all.

“Vodka! Megan reckoned she’d had enough,” Martha waved the bottle triumphantly, anxious to keep Cassie from finding out where Kane and Hayley had gone. “But I told you to go inside where it’s warmer!” She chided, taking Cassie’s elbow and steering her towards the door. The party sounded noisier than ever.

“No-o.” Cassie pulled away, flicking her hair behind her ears, trying to act nonchalant. “It...it’s like a sauna in there.”

She blinked back the tears she was desperate for Martha not to see and, to better hide them, looked over at the silver-moonlit-topped trees of the copse, and up at the cloud-shadowed sky. If Martha saw her crying, she might ask questions. Questions Cassie didn’t want to answer.

She had gone back indoors. But looking round at everyone, seeing groups of people laughing with each other and so many couples, had got to her after a little while. She was still the outsider. Maybe she always would be.

Cassie had never had a real friend apart from Martha. And she’d never had a boyfriend either. Not a proper one. As soon as a boy tried to take things further, she backed off. They wanted to touch her where her Uncle had touched her and that was wrong. Wasn’t it? It was all mixed up inside her head. Why couldn’t she just be like other chicks?

Hayley flirted and teased and pouted and all the guys loved her. Gypsy, the town bike, threw herself at any guy who happened to be around at the time and even Jack Holden, who was meant to be Martha’s soul-mate, had been smooching her all night. Kit - Cassie had always thought of Kit as striking in an unusual way until Hayley pointed out she was just so weird-looking and so weird anyway she probably dropped out of a UFO - well, weird-looking or not, Kit totally believed in herself. Martha had all the boys looking at her since Hayley got her to ditch the tomboy clothes she used to prefer and go for more feminine stuff.

Hayley was sooo smart. Cassie wished she could be more like her.

“See, what you need is confidence,” she told herself, watching the party from a dark, half hidden place under the stairwell, pretending to be busy reading a text message on her mobile. Yeh, well, like anybody would be texting Cassie! She was only allowed to be part of Hayley’s crowd because Martha was and Martha was pretty and popular so of course beautiful people like Hayley wanted her around. Without Martha, Cassie would have been dismissed as one of the dags and never got an invite in a million years.

“...bloody frigid. Maybe she swings the other way.”

Cassie glanced up, recognising the voice. Adam Kerr. She’d never liked him much; he’d always seemed a bit creepy. But when he’d asked her out on a date, she’d been so flattered that anyone actually thought her worth asking out that she’d said yes “faster than a desperate, lovesick puppy” . Hayley had been laughing when she said it, but the sneering look on her face hadn’t been lost on Cassie. It seemed every chance she got lately, Hayley made some comment about Cassie looking like a dog but when she’d dared protest that she didn’t like that description, Hayley had tossed back her long blonde hair and pouted, “I was only joking! Don’t be such a little bitch, Cass!”

And Cassie had been the one to apologise, wondering if she was being hypersensitive and at the same time convinced Hayley had just scored another point with the bitch remark.

Adam and Cassie had gone to the movies in Yabbie Creek and everything had been fine until, in the dark, he’d snaked his arm round her shoulders, put his hand down her top and loosened her bra strap and she’d run out, feeling suddenly sick. Afterwards he’d followed her and seemed okay about it when she said she’d just felt crook. But they never made another date. Cassie was half sad, half glad about that.

She wondered who they were bagging out. Poor girl, whoever it was. They were really laying into her.

“You gotta wonder. She’s always hanging round with other chicks. Doesn’t seem to like male company.”

“She’s snogged a couple of guys though. Maybe she swings both ways.”

“Yeh, well, remember what Martha was like when she first came to Summer Bay? Till Hayley sorted her out. All those baggy tops and trousers and even lesso boots - she looked like a reject from the Wentworth Detention Centre! Jeez, now Martha! That’s one chick I wouldn’t mind sorting out myself!”

Cassie jumped at the mention of Martha’s name and realised too late that they’d heard the movement. Okay, well it was the start of the new, confident Cassie! She took a deep breath. Adam and two of his mates looked at her as she emerged, clicking shut the phone, trying to look as though she’d hadn’t a care in the world. And all of a sudden it was obvious from the silence and their guilty, amused looks exactly who they’d been talking about!

“Trouble is, she can’t decide if she wants Arthur or Martha,” Adam guffawed as she fled outdoors, fighting not to cry, blushing to the roots of her hair, their laughter ringing in her ears.

She didn’t fit in. She never would. Not unless she changed. And she was going to. She was going to make them see she wasn’t what everyone thought.

The night air was cooling on her hot face and the rush of the sea to the shore and the gentle, unexciting music and hubbub of voices from the bars and restaurants on the wharf below was strangely soothing after the loud thuds of the music indoors. Cassie wished she could be someone down there. Any one of those faces in the crowd. Someone nobody was judging.

“Where’s Hayley? Where’s Kane?” She made an effort to sound normal but there was a tell-tale tremor in her voice.

“Oh, just walking and talking. Let’s go back in,” Martha said. So she was right! Cassie was upset over something. But she knew her friend. Cassie would always clam up whenever she was put on the spot with questions, preferring to confide in her in her own time. Besides, she needed to stop Cassie from seeing Hayley and Kane.

Although they were the same age, Martha often looked on Cass as a younger sister. Someone she had to protect. She made to hook her arm and was startled and not a little hurt when Cassie recoiled like she’d just had an electric shock.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”

“Cass...”

“I...uh....don’t like being linked,” Cassie said, stricken with guilt at the look on her friend’s face.

But she’d had to do something. Martha hadn’t noticed him, but Cassie had. Adam Kerr had been standing in the doorway, crushing a cigarette under his heel. And as Martha made to hook her arm, he’d paused in the act of putting a bottle of bud to his lips and given Cassie a knowing smirk.

If she didn’t put her plan with Kane into action fast, they were going to be the gossip of Summer Bay High!

***

“Kane, okay, that’s en...”

“Mmm,” Kane said vaguely, nuzzling against her.

“Kane...”

“Yeh, babe?”

“I’m not...stop it!” Hayley giggled at the tickling sensation as Kane nuzzled the nape of her neck.

“Mmm....?” Kane was barely listening. Hayley wasn’t his kind of chick. His kind of chick had a brain and a mind of her own. But if she was offering it to him on a plate with full trimmings who the hell cared?

“Stop it!” Hayley giggled again, slapping the hand that was sliding down past the base of her spine.

“Babe...” Kane murmured, pulling her closer, running his fingers through the silky smoothness of her blonde hair.

Tiny shivers of happiness ran through Hayley. Kane wasn’t exactly her type of guy - he was a bit too rough-round-the-edges and the smoking didn’t help matters - but he was seriously sexy in a flirting-with-danger kind of way. It was nice being close even though Hayley had no intention of taking it any further. All the fun was in imagining the moment she got to see Cassie’s face when she told her she and Kane had pashed long and hard. Little upstart. Quiet, mousy Cassie was changing the status quo at Summer Bay High and no way was Hayley going to put up with that.

The problem was, Martha Stewart was pretty. Not beautiful of course, unlike Hayley herself, but pretty enough to hang with the in-crowd and suitably grateful for being allowed to do so, clinging on to Hayley’s every word and content to go along with everything Hayley said. Until Cassie.

Cassie hadn’t had very much to say for herself when she’d first started Summer Bay High, the way Hayley preferred it, but now she was coming out of her shell she was beginning to make waves. It was Cassie told Martha she’d noticed all the guys in Summer Bay High, especially Jack Holden, had been checking her out.

“No waaay!” Martha said in flattered disbelief.

“It’s true. I was watching him. Jack couldn’t take his eyes off you in double Math.”

“Really?” Martha gave a little scream and her hands shot to her mouth. She’d had the hots for handsome dark-haired Jack Holden ever since she’d first seen him, shirtless, working out in the gym.

Hayley gave a sneering laugh. “Cass, don’t wind Martha up like that! It’s mean. And, Martha, grow up! It’s not like Jack Holden’s a big movie star or anything. Anyway, like he’d spend the whole of double Math staring at you, especially with Flathead taking the lesson.”

“Yeh. Guess. Aw, you were probably imagining it, Cass. Nobody’d be looking at me.” But Martha’s eyes were still shining. And, thanks to Cassie taking it on herself (without even mentioning it to Hayley, if you please!) to tell Jack that Martha was interested, Jack had plucked up the courage to ask Martha out.

Lately though, to Hayley’s satisfaction, they’d had a blue over something or other. The party had meant to be their big chance at getting back together till Gypsy.

“Talking of movie stars...anyone wanna see the latest pic of my cute kid bro?”

Hayley pulled a glossy magazine out of her bag as they sat on their desks waiting for morning class and was slightly pacified when a couple of her friends oohed and ahhed over the photo on page nine of of some up-and-coming starlet and her new boyfriend, showing Nick in the background eating a burger and watching.

Twelve-year-old Nick had been at drama school, playing the part of Oliver Twist, when he'd been spotted by a talent scout looking for a blond-haired, blue-eyed kid who could tug at the heartstrings for a new movie. He died in the third scene, but it was Nick’s big break and their starry-eyed Mum had accompanied him to glittering Hollywood. Hayley was used to younger girls at Summer Bay High asking her for his autograph and practically swooning when they saw her. Now that was the way she liked it. Hayley Smith was someone and those kids knew it. What she didn’t like was the way Martha Stewart was getting way, way too big for her boots. Hayley smiled grimly.

Maybe she should have left her wearing the lesso boots, as Adam Kerr used to call them, that Martha had worn when she'd arrived in Summer Bay, in daggy discount store jeans and an even more daggy discount store striped top. God, all she needed was a straw in her mouth and a cow to lead to market and she could’ve stomped about like the farmer’s daughter she was!

Hayley had nurtured Martha, persuaded her to ditch the he-man look, and she was damned if Martha was going to topple her popularity at Summer Bay High. After she’d finished with Cassie, she was going to make sure stupid pretty doll Martha was put right back in her pretty doll’s box and...

“Kane!”

“What?” Kane shrugged innocently as Hayley pressed her hands against his chest and, using all her strength, pushed him away.

“Stop pawing me! Get this into your head...” She looked him condescendingly up and down. He was okay as a bit of rough. Fit. Nice eyes. But she was far too classy to cramp her style by settling for the likes of Kane Phillips. Adam Kerr, who hated him, had once remarked to her in History that if they’d all lived a hundred years ago, thicko Phillips would probably have been a derro selling matches in the street and Hayley lady of the manor. It was a pleasing image. And so true. “I’m not interested.”

“What?” He stared at her. “You led me to the copse, you said we were good together...”

Hayley couldn’t help a small, triumphant smile. “So? I changed my mind. Count yourself lucky. You got to pash the most beautiful chick in Summer Bay High, didn’t you?”

She turned. Only to freeze as he suddenly grabbed her arm.

“Oh, I get it. You like to play games. Well, me too, babe.”

“Let go of me, Kane. You’re hurting.”

But he didn’t let go. He grinned. A slow, sarcastic grin. And his grip on her arm tightened.

That warning flurry of danger re-surfaced. Only this time it was more, far more, than a tiny warning voice. It was an instinct that came from the dawn of all time. Fight or flight. Except she couldn’t do either. His grip was too strong and her feet were refusing to move. But her mind raced furiously, desperately seeking some way out of this terror.

For a moment there was cruel hope, when the moon crept briefly from behind a cloud, and she thought she saw someone inside the long-deserted restaurant. And then she realised it was nothing more than their ghost-like silhouettes reflected in its filthy moonlit windows. Below them, people were walking on the wharf. People who would never be able to hear any cries for help above the loud rushing of the wind and sea.

A boat creaked in a long, mocking scream. Something rustled through the heavily-sighing trees.

The blanket warmth of the night perfumed by flowers and the wail of the breeze swirling through the copse and breathing sudden stabs of air. His face moved closer to hers. The scent of his aftershave mixed with the smell of cigarettes and beer. His eyes cold as ice. Her own heartbeat thudding in her ears. It wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Pinned against the tree, Hayley couldn’t move...

[Skykat]

I know, I know, its been a while coming. People have probably and understandably assumed that I'd forgotten this but I haven't. Theres still plenty more to come from this fic (assuming people want to keep reading). So here it is, the next chapter and theres more on the way soon.

As ever please read and if you do read please let me know what you think. Good, bad, criticism, opinion, I want to hear it.

Once again this is a combination chapter and would not have been written without I love musics input so once again a huge thank you to her for her help.

Enjoy...I hope!

***chapter 12***

Will sighed with frustration. Weeks he had been trying to get Dani Sutherland! Weeks of watching her, talking to her, wooing her - and, just when he was getting close, they got interrupted! He felt an angry flush run to his cheeks and cursed whichever parent had been responsible for his fair skin/dark hair combination.

Dani self-assuredly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smothered the smallest of giggles with her hand, her eyes sparkling with mischief and amusement. Ignoring the annoying interruption, Will couldn’t help but smile back. She was beautiful. And hot. And seriously interested so...

But the annoying interruption refused to be ignored.

“Will?”

“What do you want Kim?” He asked at last, turning impatiently. The razor sharp edge to his voice shocked the normally laid-back Will Smith every bit as much as it shocked Kim. But Will was fuming. He and Dani had been so close.

“We need to do something about Holden. Look at him!” Kim regained his composure quickly and drew Will’s gaze to where Jack was being straddled by Gypsy. Ignoring everyone, they were kissing and touching passionately. Even though they were both fully clothed, it wasn’t leaving much to anyone’s imagination.

Will shut his eyes to block out the picture but they were quickly replaced with other pictures. Pictures of Gypsy, her tanned, toned body straddling him. Her eager, soft hands on his chest, undoing his buttons. Her slightest touch electrifying him to the point where he would have done anything for her. Her soft, warm kisses making him want more, and more.

He opened his eyes in an attempt to be free of the memories but it was no good. They were still there, mocking him. Her long red hair trailing against Holden’s chest, her fingers undoing the buttons on Holden’s shirt, her lips connecting with Holden’s. Will felt another rush of colour go to his cheeks.

“I don’t give a damn about Holden. If he wants to make the same mistake with her, he can do. I’ve warned him often enough, he knows what Gypsy’s like. It’s nothing to do with me so just leave me out of it. I want nothing to do with anything Gypsy touches!” Will had no idea where the fury came from. It merely erupted like a volcano from deep within him and he forcibly turned his head away.

Look at the wall, the photo of the three Smith kids with their olds, the assortment of alcohol on the sideboard, the empty glasses and cans strewn on the floor, the mess he’d have to clean up in the morning...Look at the false ivy trellis lining the banister that lead upstairs to the bedroom where he and Gypsy had….

Will snapped his eyes away and took a deep breath. He turned instead to look at Kim. Kim was safe. Kim had the looks of a Greek God but the confidence of small child. His face wore that same, confused expression he always wore but his eyes looked troubled. His mouth set in a frown as he watched them.

Will turned to look at Dani. Beautiful, perfect Dani. Her flawless, big lips were just made for kissing, her slim, perfect body, just begging to be touched. He was dying to touch it, to touch her. To kiss those lips, run his finger through her long red hair.

Red hair? Where the hell had that come from? His eyes automatically shot back to her, to the girl with the red hair, the girl seductively dancing for Holden.

Next to him he felt a movement and looked back to see Dani stand up and wordlessly walk away. His eyes followed her to the kitchen and he noted the slumped shoulders. Watched as she took a fresh wine bottle from the fridge and opened it, pouring an insanely large measure into an empty glass.

“Look man, I didn’t mean, to cause trouble, you know…” Kim shrugged, his eyes darting momentarily to the kitchen before returning instantly to Jack and Gypsy. It was like he was on a spring, captivated by them, unable to tear his gaze away. In that moment Will felt a surge of pity wash through him.

Kim was obviously hung up on Gypsy.

“It’s okay mate. What you’ve got to understand though, Gypsy, she destroys everything she touches. She’s bad news, trust me. Chews you up and spits you out, she just can’t help herself. And Holden, well, he’ll only learn from his own mistakes.”

Will punched Kim on the arm, lightly, affectionately and, with a quick glance at the porn show on the couch, headed into the kitchen.

“Hey…” He took the bottle of beer from the crate beside her and snapped the top off with his teeth, felt her wince as it flew into the air.

“Do you have to do that?” She gestured towards the bottle opener, her green eyes no longer laughing with mischief. They were darker somehow, without the flecks of gold he had noticed earlier. Her brow was furrowed, her lips thinner than before.

“I’m sorry,” he shrugged.

“Do you even know what you’re apologising for?” She still didn’t look at him. Her eyes were fixed on something at very bottom of her glass, something unseen but fascinating. Something that held her gaze, drew it away from him.

“For opening the bottle with my teeth and for losing my temper?” Will shot her his famous lopsided grin. The same grin that had charmed many a woman, weakened many a resolve, but she did not even look at him. “Dani?” Will put his hand on her arm but she brushed it off and took a sip of her drink.

“I don’t care about the bottle or about you losing your temper. You really have no idea do you?” Dani finally turned to look at him, her glare accusing, her eyes watching him intently. Will felt almost as if they were boring holes through into his brain, so fierce was the look. He shrugged, confused, oblivious to what he’d done.

“It was what you did, Will. The way you watched her. The way you couldn’t take her eyes off her, the anger you still have towards her. You still have feelings for her,” Dani accused.

“Dani, come on! That’s ridiculous! The only thing I feel for Gypsy is hate. She physically disgusts me.” Will placed both his hands on Dani’s arms and looked straight at her, forcing her to meet his gaze as he practically spat the words out.

“There’s a pretty thin line between love and hate, Will - and I’m not entirely convinced you’re over her yet.” Dani refused steadfastly to meet his gaze, her eyes looking instead, past him, to where Gypsy lay on the couch. Her lips were occupied with Jack, her fingers occupied with Jack, but, as Dani watched her, Gypsy looked up and caught her gaze.

And she smiled. The slow smirk of somebody who has won a victory, somebody who was smugly pleased with themselves. She thinks she’s won, Dani realised suddenly, her breath catching in her throat.

Will was speaking again. “There’s only one girl in this room I want to be with,. Haven’t you figured it out yet? I’m crazy about you!”

She tore her gaze away from Gypsy to look at him. He looked into her eyes, searching for an answer.

“Really?” she asked, and he nodded earnestly.

Dani took a deep breath. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he did still have feelings for Gypsy, maybe he didn’t. Fact was that right now, at this moment in time it was Dani he wanted.

“Yes, really,” he confirmed.

Dani looked back to where Gypsy was watching them intently, that insufferable smirk still evident in her eyes. She had never officially met Gypsy Nash but that one look was enough to make Dani Sutherland really dislike the girl.

So Gypsy thought she had won, did she? Obviously she didn’t know Dani Sutherland. Dani NEVER lost out on a guy she wanted. Not ever. And she wasn’t about to do so now.

Reaching up, she took Will’s face in her hands and, her determination sealed, narrowed the gap between them, bringing her lips down firmly on his. And as Will responded to her kiss Dani couldn’t help herself. She shot a quick glance over his shoulder and, just as she knew she would be, Gypsy was still watching.

Except this time it was Dani who was smirking.

*****

“Hayley! How did it go? What did Kane say? Does he like me?”

“What? Oh, yeah! Yeah, sure.” Hayley had no idea of what she was saying or who she was saying it to as she raced upstairs to the bathroom.

They were a blur of faces. A sea of disjointed conversations and laughter lost somewhere in the clinking glasses and pounding music. She had to be rid of him. She could still feel his breath on her neck. Still hear his mocking taunts.

“Don’t play with fire, darlin’.”

“I...I...Let me go. Please.” Hayley’s voice was a whisper. Tears misted her eyes and spilled down her cheeks unchecked.

He grinned mockingly. So close that his gaze burrowed into her skin and his words brushed like sandpaper against her face. “‘Didn’t Mummy and Daddy ever tell their little princess that kiddies who play with fire get burned?”

She drew in a sharp, angry breath. What would he know?

Orphan. It was a funny word. All that five-year-old Hayley knew about it was that Annie had been an orphan. She wondered if she had to be called Annie now and if she, Will and Nick had to start singing and dancing like the orphans in the movie. But she didn’t feel like singing and dancing. She felt like crying. And she couldn’t understand why Mum and Dad didn’t come back.

“Because they CAN’T,” Will explained again. Patiently. Seven-year-old Will rarely got mad with anyone, not even kid sisters. “Because they’re DEAD.”

He said it matter-of-factly. Not because he didn’t care, but because he was the eldest and took his responsibilities as eldest seriously.

They both spoke in whispers. They were playing in the park, on another outing from the Home for them all to get used to each other, because they would be together as a family next week. Mrs Smith was sitting not very far away from them on the bench, while Mr Smith had only run off to retrieve the football Will had just kicked and was likely to be back any minute.

“Why?” Hayley asked, her lower lip trembling.

Will wiped a hand across his nose, sniffling back his own tears. “Because the car crashed.”

“I don’t like them being dead.” Hayley’s voice began to rise tearfully. “Why don’t they come back?”

Will sighed, even his phenomenal patience being put to the test now. He’d already just explained everything twice.

“Because they’re...” Then his heart, as usual, got the better of him and he put his arm round his little sister’s shoulders. “You gotta be good, Hayles. See, they mightn’t take us if they think we’re gonna miss our real Mum and Dad too much. And you want us all to stay together, don’t you? And Nick loves our new Mum, don’t he?”

Hayley looked across at Nick, who was fast asleep in their new Mum’s lap, fair hair flopping over his contented face, fingers tightly curled round a half-eaten biscuit. An aching pang of jealously shot through her as she watched Mrs Smith prise the soggy biscuit out of his grasp and tenderly stroke his forehead. Nick was only sixteen months old. Too young to remember their real Mum and Dad and special moments. But Hayley could.

Special moments like how she would always run to their real Dad as soon as he got home from work and how he would lift her high into the air and swing her round to pretend she was flying. Special moments like how, before Hayley started kindy, their real Mum would finger paint or bake fairy cakes with her while Nick was sleeping and Will still at school.

“And if we go to live with our new Mum and Dad, we can have everything we want. Heaps of toys and chockie, and lollies and a stableful of ponies...”

Will was clutching at straws, saying anything that came into his head to calm his kid sister, but Hayley’s eyes widened hopefully. She had always wanted a pony (as Will was well aware). As it happened, a pony turned out to be about the only thing she never got.

Although she did have riding lessons until she bored of them. Hayley got bored easily. It was one of the few drawbacks to having fabulously wealthy parents.

Will didn’t know it when he made his rash promises, no one could have done, not even the Smiths themselves, but as time went on, Mr Smith’s fledgling property business (at present consisting of no more than a rundown house that he planned to convert and let out to students) would go from strength to strength and turn them into very rich people. Sadly, however, the couple had never been particularly keen on animals. Which was probably just a well, for, while it meant that Will never did get the Labrador he longed for and Hayley never did get her own pony to keep in a stable, Nick, over the years, would beg in vain to be allowed to keep all kinds of exotic creatures, from tigers to crocodiles.

But then that was Nick. Flamboyant from the start. With his big blue eyes, beaming smile and perfect comedy timing, Nick was a born entertainer, loving nothing more than to have everyone laugh and clap at his antics.

Another aching pang of jealousy shot through Hayley as Mr Smith, their new Dad, breathless and laughing, finally returned with the muddy football that Will had kicked way off limits.

“Great shot, son!” He said, impressed, and absently ruffled Hayley’s hair. “You want to take the next kick, Hale?”

“NO!” Hayley shouted firmly, pouting, though remembering not to cry anymore like Will had advised. She wanted that stableful of ponies sooo badly. But she hated being called Hale. She was Hayles or Hayley.

“Guess a pretty girl like you doesn’t like getting muddy, hey? Tell you what, how about when we next go to the city we buy a lovely new dress for our beautiful little girl?”

“That’d be cool, wouldn’t it, Hayles? ‘Cos I got the new footie and Nick got the new wind-up music toy.” Will was grinning, but it hadn’t been lost on him that the Smiths had managed to overlook Hayley when they’d been in the store earlier. Of course, the football was meant to be between both of them, but it was Will, not Hayley, who loved footie, and, of course, she’d got an ice-cream, but they’d all got an ice-cream.

Hayley smiled back. Broadly, reading the secret message in Will’s eyes about that wonderful possibility of a stableful of ponies. Will could always made her feel better. She trudged back to the bench, thinking deeply. There were things she needed to sort out in her mind.

“Am I pretty?” Hayley didn’t believe in wasting time. She began her question while climbing up on the bench, with difficulty, it being slightly higher than she could negotiate, and needing to be helped up by Mrs Smith hooking a hand under her arm.

“Of course you are, sweetheart.” Julie Smith had turned to Hayley only briefly. A chill was creeping into the air and, worried about Nick catching cold, she tugged the blanket out of the buggy to wrap round the sleeping child in her lap.

“But am I as pretty as Princess Precious?” Hayley asked earnestly as she settled herself down and pushed her hair behind her ears.

Mrs Smith turned to Hayley, surprised by the anxiety in her little foster daughter’s voice. “Oh, much prettier, pet! You’re beautiful. Eyes as blue as the sky and hair as golden as sunlight,” she smiled, quoting from the Princess Precious story she’d read to Hayley yesterday, and turning quickly back to fix Nick’s blanket when it slid a little.

Hayley looked up at the sky her eyes were as blue as, squinting against the sunlight her hair was as golden as, thinking things through. So she was beautiful. People had always told her she was, but it was very, very important now. Hayley was too young to understand properly. All she knew was that their new Mum had a bub to cuddle and their new Dad had a son to play footie with so Hayley needed to be special or nobody would love her. And she was. She was beautiful!

By a happy coincidence, Will, Hayley and Nick already shared the same surname as their new parents and Hayley took to their far wealthier lifestyle like a duck takes to water, almost convincing herself that she’d been born into riches. By the time they had uprooted to live in Summer Bay, the memory of her real parents was so hazy that sometimes she thought she’d only dreamt them. She was Hayley Smith. Beautiful, rich and popular, with a heartthrob older brother and a younger brother making it big in Hollywood. People loved her because she was beautiful and she could get whatever she wanted because she was beautiful.

And in a moment Kane Phillips had brought all that she was tumbling down around her.

“Please, Kane, don’t...” she said, trembling, in a shaky voice she didn’t recognise as her own. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out her terror. She wasn’t strong enough to stop him. It was going to happen and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

But he laughed suddenly and shoved her roughly aside. “You know, you’re not even worth it, princess!”

Hayley staggered away, sobbing in huge, frightened gulps, running clumsily back towards the Beach House. It had begun to rain. Light, rhythmic summer rain, that would have been pretty and sounded almost musical by day, by night sounding dismal and tinging everywhere with a cold, lonely greyness. Low cloud had smothered the sky, blotting out the stars and leaving a forsaken moon to find its own brief moments of brightness when and where it could. The air was tainted. The breeze in her hair, the sigh of the trees, the rush of the sea, they were nothing more than mocking whispers. All she wanted was to run forever. All she wanted was to be rid of him.

It seemed like a thousand years had passed since she had left the party and yet the world was carrying on as though nothing had happened.

Down on the wharf, the usual crowd noises floated up from the bars and the boats in the harbour still swayed on their dark waters and creaked their haunting melody. In the warmth and brightness of the Beach House, her carefully selected party guests still danced and talked and drank, and the pool of mud and rain that in wet weather always gathered in the dip near the sapling, that she, Will and Nick had planted the first week they moved to Summer Bay, was gathering steadily again in the falling summer rain.

Somehow she had the presence of mind to stop running just before she went back inside. Thankfully, for once there was no one around. She took a deep breath and she kept her head down. They’d think she’d maybe had a bit too much alcohol. Well, that was fine, that was what she wanted them to think. Someone asked her a question. She thought she answered; she couldn’t be sure. Her gaze fixed on the door to the bathroom. She had to be alone. In the privacy and the safety.

From across the room Kit watched her race upstairs and smiled. Hayley had just played right into her hands!

“I’m just going the toilet, babe.” She reached up to kiss Noah gently and at the same time snaked her hands round his back and into his jeans pocket, pulling him close. “You going to miss me?”

“Always.” Noah responded to her kiss and Kit let herself relax as her hand rested on what she had been looking for. Smiling at him, she removed her hands from his pocket and headed towards the stairs, the key she had stolen from his pocket, clasped tightly in her hand.

Hayley gazed shakily at her reflection in the mirror. She was white as a ghost and her rain-sodden hair was a mess. Tears welled up inside her and she rested her hot forehead against the cooling glass, weeping silently to herself. He’d trodden over all that she had and made her feel like nothing. He’d touched her where she hadn’t wanted to be touched and, while it had been a game at first, he’d turned it into something sordid with his mocking, with the knowledge he could have...he could have...Hayley suddenly began to retch uncontrollably. She had barely managed to lift the toilet lid before she was violently sick.

As she approached the bathroom, Kit heard the unmistakable sound of somebody vomiting. She grinned to herself. Obviously Princess Hayley had had too much to drink. Oh, how the mighty had fallen! And she was about to fall even further. Kit heard the toilet flush and sounds of movement so she acted quickly, placing the key in the lock and turning it.

Hayley slumped back against the wall and, taking a tissue, wiped her mouth, unable to stop the trembling that began in her stomach and threatened to overwhelm her. She tried to concentrate on taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And that was when she heard the key turning, trapping her inside, and suddenly she was fighting to breathe again. Was it him? Had he come after her? Was he going to...going to...?

“Who’s out there? Let me out!” Her fists thudded frantically against the door. Someone had to stop him. Someone had to hear. They couldn’t let him do this!

She heard a muffled laugh and a surge of strange relief overtook her fear as she recognised it. She’d have recognised that stupid piggy snort anywhere. A fire of anger suddenly tore through her. She was Hayley Smith. She was beautiful. She was someone. She wouldn’t let them take away all that she had.

“Look, Kit Hunter, you little scrag, you better let me out of here...”

Kit couldn’t know of the tears streaming down her face. Kit couldn’t know if she focused on the hatred between them she didn’t even have to think about Kane Phillips.

Kit smiled to herself. Revenge was sweet.

“Not nice is it, being locked inside a bathroom? No way of escaping and all those sharp objects around, scissors, razor blades. It could drive a person to distraction, so much so that they might do something very stupid…” She laughed as the door shook under the hammering. Hayley’s fists must really be hurting. Serve the stupid cow right.

“…There’s something about being locked in. It strips you of all your power and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to get out - or even if you’re going to get out! And you worry about what you’re missing out here, about what’s going on behind your back…”

“No you just listen here, Kit Hunter, you better let me out of this bathroom right this second, you little scrag!”

“Or what?” Kit was enjoying herself and Hayley so deserved this. “What will you do? Calling me names though, that’s not a very good idea, is it? Especially seeing as I hold the key.”

“I’ll call you what the hell I like, you horse faced little…”

“Sticks and stones. Your words can’t hurt me. Do you know why? I’ll tell you, shall I? Whatever you say to me means nothing. Because you’re nothing. You’re sad and pathetic, making stupid plays for guys that just aren’t interested. Queen piranha, that’s what he called you. ‘But we’re meant to be together…’” Kit put on her best, false, girly voice. “Oh yes, he told me all about it, your pathetic little attempt to get him back. When are you going to get it through your thick head that he’s not interested in you?”

Hayley stopped, rubbing her sore knuckles, smiling grimly. She had the perfect answer. She could even picture Kit’s plain face as she said it. “Oh, you poor, deluded bitch! When WILL you get it through your thick skull that he’s just using you to get at me? You ’ve got rocks in your head if you can’t see it for yourself. I mean, get real, honey. What could he possibly see in you? You’re ugly, plain and fat, and your dress sense is a joke. What exactly have you got to offer him?”

Kit felt Hayley’s words etch on her skin, almost as if she was cutting them in with a knife. Even locked in a room, Hayley still knew how to hurt and Kit felt herself visibly deflate, her confidence drained. But somewhere in herself she managed to find a modicum of belief even though there was a catch in her voice. Hayley’s words had cut her to the quick.

“He sees a stunningly beautiful girl. Someone with a heart of gold who doesn’t have her head stuck permanently up her own arse. Somebody genuine, kind. Somebody real, not a professional Barbie doll with a heart of stone. That’s what he sees.”

Not having heard Noah approach, Kit had not even realised he was behind her until he traced his finger down her neck. She turned and smiled guiltily at him, reading the expression on his face. “Hey, babe! Hayley and me were just having a nice girly chat.”

“Noah? Noah is that you? You have to let me out! She’s locked me in here! Noah!”

Silently, Noah reached around Kit and turned the key in the lock.

“Hey!” Kit protested, but Noah spun her round, pinning her against the wall and kissing her as Hayley threw the door open.

Hayley was furious, ready to fly at Kit but she had not expected to see them kissing. That was the last thing she expected. She felt as if all the blood had been drained from her body. The whole world was against her. She watched them, horrified but at the same time unable to move. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say.

But she could pretend she didn’t give a damn. They had come up for air. Kit made to smirk but Hayley got there first. Her own smirk more classy, more feminine, more polished. Years of practice. Have sloppy seconds, honey, it’s all you’re good enough for. She didn’t need to say it. Kit visibly wilted, a shadow crossing her face, remembering her dowdiness. Hayley turned slowly, almost sexily, and looked Noah up and down, giving a small, secret laugh, licking her top lip in derision. Another silent message. Oh, pur-leeze! Give me a man, not a boy! Enjoying his look of utter confusion, she flicked back her blonde hair and sashayed away.

But she didn’t switch on the light in her bedroom.

The outlines of the furniture could just about be seen, silhouettes barely visible, thick curtains blocking out even the tiniest hint of brightness. But she needed it to be this way tonight. Lonely night. Black, dark, calm, terrifying night.

She knew instinctively where her bed was and she took only a few seconds to crawl onto it and lie staring upwards into the pool of darkness. She could hear the sounds of the party, the music, the talking, the laughter. Another world.

Her arm brushed against something soft and warm and she knew immediately what it was. Freddie Teddy, that long ago childhood gift, that symbol of innocence. She hugged him tightly to her chest pulling her knees up around them and wrapping her arms around them. Creating a protective layer to keep the dark out. A wall to keep the badness out. Tears stung her eyes as she felt her whole body shake and she hugged Freddie even tighter, drawing comfort from him. Memories washed over her.

Hayley giggled. It was Christmas Day and Christmas Day was magic. And she danced beautifully, like an angel, Mum said. But Will was hopeless. She was only four and Will was six, two years older, but he couldn’t dance! He had his hands on his hips and he was trying to dance like Mum was showing him, but he kept falling over his own feet, sometimes on purpose, and crying with laughter. Christmas was always fun like this, with everyone fooling around.

The music came from a CD of Irish music that someone had sent Mum for Christmas and she was showing them the Irish dancing she used to learn at school. Dad was patting the back of the their new baby brother, but Nick was hungry and crying for his bottle so Mum took him and Hayley picked up Freddie Teddy, who’d been one of her favourite presents out of all those she had opened, and Dad lifted her high into the air and they pretended she was flying...

*

Hayley peeped uncertainly round the door. It was Christmas Day and Christmas Day was meant to be magic, but she couldn’t be sure about that. She couldn’t be sure about anything anymore.

“Hey, Hale!” Her new Dad said, not noticing Hayley frowned at the name. “Come and see what Father Christmas left for you, sleepy head!” He was kneeling on the floor, he and Will engrossed in setting up some kind of complicated railway track, and he indicated the pile of enticingly wrapped presents waiting for her at the bottom of the Xmas tree.

Hayley smiled shyly - they’d only been living with their new Mum and Dad for a few weeks - and, clutching Freddie Teddy tightly to her chest, picked her way past the mound of ripped, strewn Xmas paper that had lately wrapped Will and Nick’s gifts.

“Happy Christmas, poppet!” Her new Mum stooped briefly to kiss the top of her head. She was carrying a tray into the kitchen with one hand and had Nick perched on her hip with the other, and he was eating chocolate and jabbering excitedly away, his eyes shining.

The presents were wonderful. Cinderella Barbie, just like she’d wanted, a new Tamogotchi, a sing-a-long CD player...Hayley’s heart quickened as she opened each one, the usual Xmas magic sweeping over her and carrying her breath away. She picked up Freddie Teddy again and jumped up, about to run over to see what other presents Will had got. But then she stopped.

Will and their new Dad were playfighting, fooling over something to do with the train set. And through the open kitchen door, she could see Nick was sitting on the kitchen worktop, swinging his legs like he always did when he was happy, and every now and again their new Mum, busy making mince pies, was putting flour on his nose and making him laugh.

Hayley looked back at her toys and a silent tear splashed down on Freddie Teddy. She wondered why no one had woken her.

Memories.

Kit locking her in the bathroom. Kit and Noah pashing. Kane Phillips pinning her against the tree and making her feel like...like something that had been put out with the rubbish. A surge of white hot anger flooded through her. He would pay. And that slag Kit Hunter would pay too. And Gypsy “town bike” Nash. The whole bloody world would pay! Freddie Teddy belonged to the past. She didn’t need him anymore. She didn’t need anyone.

Hayley scratched her carefully polished and manicured fingernails into the teddy bear’s face and felt a strange satisfaction as she plucked out its eyes...

[Skykat]

Hmm okay, I really hope this chapter goes down how it's meant to. I said ages ago I wanted to get into Jack's head and that's what I've attempted to do. I also want people to see where Gypsy is coming from and realise that Jack and Martha splitting up isn't actually her fault, or Jack's even. I'm hoping after this chapter some of you may be able to ignore the fact that I'm causing conflict with your favourite couples and try and see the characters as flawed, with their good and bad points.

Once again, I love music you are phenomenal. How you get into the minds of kids so well I will never understand but it works, it really does and I can't wait to go ahead with stuff we kept back and also what we have planned.

Please review honestly, you know I love to know what you like and what you don't like, what you felt and didn't feel and what you think I can do better. Thanks.

***chapter 13***

She may have been straddled across Jack’s lap, raining hot kisses on his face, but all Gypsy saw was Will. And her. The anorexic-looking lollipop lady, who right now had her arms clasped viper-like around Will’s neck, her body pressed close to his, her lips glued to his lips.

But her eyes were not on Will, they were on Gypsy. Horrible, smirking eyes that laughed and mocked and shone with triumph. Gypsy felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol she had consumed.

Will really had moved on.

She had thought earlier, just for a second, that they might still have something between them. The silent fury etched in his face. The way he had looked at her. Oh, she had been so sure for a moment. But then the disgust had followed. The disgust that inevitably followed when people looked at Gypsy.

But she had never thought Will would ever look at her like that.

She had always held out hope that one day he’d forgive her and take her back. Now it was clear that she’d lost him for good. He’d decided, just like everyone else had, that she wasn’t worth the effort.

And she wasn’t.

The room around her was fading in and out of focus. Music blared from the stereo, pounding in her ears. The prissy pop type music that Hayley loved and Gypsy loathed. She smiled to herself and poor, naive Jack smiled back, actually thinking the smile was for him. But Gypsy was lost in her memories.

“I swear if she plays that damn stuff one more time…” Will eyes flashed in angry humour. Hayley may have driven everyone else mad, but she was still his kid sister and easygoing Will was still protective of her.

Gypsy whispered in his ear, watched the smile creep over his face as he turned her over and pinned her to the bed, a smile dancing in his eyes.

“Oh really? You think we could drown it out?” His hands wound strands of her hair round his fingers, tightening loose coils and then releasing them. His strong frame kept her locked in his embrace, his eyes never leaving her own.

“I’m sure of it.” She had kissed him then, his soft lips meeting her own. His hot breath on her face, her neck. Gypsy smiled involuntarily and opened her eyes.

Instantly she recoiled, the smile leaving her face as she looked down, not on Will, but on Jack Holden. A steaming drunk Jack Holden.

“Heyyyy,” he slurred at her, pleased with himself, with his belief he was irresistible to all women. He really didn’t have a clue what he was doing and she felt strangely sorry for him. He looked pathetic. He was pathetic.

But then so was she. If anything, she was worse because, as much as she had had to drink, she was nowhere near as out of it as Jack was. Nowhere near as out of control. At least she knew what she was doing.

Gypsy felt the nausea flooding over her again and she clasped her hand to her mouth. Standing up, she pushed him from her and bolted in the direction of the front door.

“Wassamatterwhereyougoin’?” she could hear him calling drunkenly after her and it made her want to run even faster. To get away from him. To drown him out.

Once outside, the cool air hit her like the sudden turning on of a fan and Gypsy almost collapsed against the wall of the house. Her back against the wall, she let her body drop gently to the floor. The hard earth was cold and unforgiving but Gypsy didn’t care.

She was cold and unforgiving.

She deserved no better.

She shut her eyes in a desperate attempt to block out the sight of Will and Dani. But there was to be no escape. Even with eyes tight shut she could still see them kissing.

And it hurt so much to know that Will had moved on. So much. It was as though somebody was toying with her, cruelly inserting a knife between her shoulder blades and twisting it with agonising slowness. She could almost imagine the person turning the knife. Someone who hated her even more than everyone else hated her. Someone who would do anything to get revenge. Someone who, by virtue of her birth, would always have influence and power in Will’s life. Hayley.

“I really thought we had something, Gypsy.”

Will’s face, the face she knew every inch of, the face she loved every centimetre of, was twisted in pain. His cheeks screwed up like knots, his mouth set in a thin line. But it was his eyes that broke her heart. Eyes that had once looked deeply into hers. Eyes that had once radiated love and warmth were now filled with hurt and contempt. She could almost taste his bitterness.

“We do, Will,” she had insisted, softly, gently. Tears running down her face, leaving them unchecked.

“How can we when you do something like this? Jack’s my best friend, for God’s sake! How could you betray me like this?” His words were softly spoken, but his voice had been shaky and broken. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes and Gypsy choked just to look at him. She had done this to him. She was responsible for his pain.

“I’m sorry. I love you, Will. I love you so much!” She tried to touch him, to reach out and comfort him, but he brushed her aside.

“I used to love you too, Gyps. But obviously that wasn’t enough.” He had turned then and walked away, leaving her sobbing, on her knees in the sand. Broken.

And she was still broken.

Pulling her legs up to her chest she wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. In the distance the lights from the wharf glittered and danced against the black velvet sky and Gypsy stared at them, transfixed. Anything, anything not to cry.

*****

“Jack! Jack!”

The insistent voice echoed somewhere in his head and Jack didn’t have a clue who it was talking. But he knew he wanted whoever it was to go away. He pressed his eyes tightly shut as the whole room lurched dangerously around him. The blackness spun and the room swirling like a ship in a storm made Jack want to throw up over the sides into the green sea.

“Jack!” The voice was there again and Jack angrily lashed out at it.

“Ow!” came a cry, and then Jack felt someone take him by the scruff of his neck and a grip tighten on his collar. “Jack Holden, you better open your eyes NOW before I do something we both regret!”

Jack gingerly opened one eye (not an easy process when it so desperately wanted to re-shut itself) and looked at his assailant.

“Kim?” He asked dazedly.

“Yes, Kim! And you’re going to wake yourself up now. For Crissakes, mate, look at the state of you!”

An ice cold wet cloth was thrown none-too-gently against his face and he jumped suddenly back into wakefulness.

“Leave me alone!” he protested.

“No. What the hell are you playing at? Why get involved with her again? What about Martha?”

“Martha?”

“Yes, Martha. Long dark hair, brown eyes, red dress, stunning. Your girlfriend? Remember her?”

The room was heaving unsteadily back into focus, but Jack hadn’t yet hit dry land and was still away sailing the stormy seas. Martha. Martha, Martha...? There was a hazy memory of a Martha...Got it!

*****

His blue eyes met her brown ones. She instantly looked away.

God, those eyes!

They had been what had first attracted him to her...

A bad dose of tonsillitis had grounded Jack Holden for two weeks so he’d only been back at a school for a couple days of days and had tons of schoolwork to catch up on. He furiously slammed books out of his locker and into his school bag. Jeez, why couldn’t this prison give a guy a break!

He’d just recovered from a life-threatening illness - yeh, well, okay, not quite, but what if it had been? - and he was expected to fit in extra tuition and homework assignments. For God’s sake, there were things like footie, mates, surfing, music and most of all girls out there! He’d been out of action for too long and needed to get back into the swing of things asap.

It had been a shock when the new chick - Cathy, Callie, Something - long legs, tanned, great figure, scared, haunted look - had told him her friend Martha was definitely interested. Wowww!

Jack had spent the whole of yesterday’s double math unable to take his eyes off Martha Stewart. In fact, he’d been unable to take his eyes off Martha Stewart ever since she first came to Summer Bay High some months back, but, unbelievably, he hadn’t yet made his move. Even Jack Holden couldn’t have told Jack Holden why.

He was the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Always had been. With his good looks and laid back charm, he could afford to be. There were heaps of chicks who longed to be Jack Holden’s girlfriend.

But none of them had ever been as stunningly beautiful as Martha Stewart.

“So you can go ask her out now.” Cathy, Callie, Something, who’d joined Summer Bay High while Jack had been absent fighting his death-defying illness of tonsillitis, folded her arms like it was an order and, now that she’d given it, Jack was expected to set off immediately.

“Ye-eh. Thanks,” he said.

He was actually in the middle of a kickabout, but she had ignored the footie game to march straight up to him. His mates were watching the little scene in amusement. Jack glanced momentarily towards them and, as if suddenly becoming aware they had an audience, Cathy, Callie, Something, shivered and walked away as abruptly as she’d arrived without another word. Sheesh! He’d heard on the grapevine that the new chick was a bit - well, weird, and this just proved it!

But she must have occasionally had some interesting conversation or the stunningly beautiful Martha Stewart would never have hung out with her. Or maybe Martha just wasn’t as shallow as Jack. But life had taught Jack to be shallow.

The shouting had slowly grown, from a dull murmur of raised voices to a full on screaming match. Abuse, yelled at the highest decibels, seemed to bounce from one parent to another. Like a ping pong ball.

Six-year-old Jack had buried his head deeply under the covers so did not notice his little brother Lucas enter the room. He had no idea he was even there until the covers were lifted from his head and he felt Lucas’s small body climb into bed next to him. Normally, when one of them took something belonging to the other or encroached on the other’s territory like this, a furious row ensued, often with Lucas, being youngest, throwing kicks and punches and Jack torn between defending himself and not wanting to be a bully.

But these were exceptional circumstances.

Jack didn’t suspiciously demand to know had Lucas wet his own bed, seen a ghost or monster (Jack was quite certain he did not want ghosts or monsters following Lucas into this room) or done something he was hoping that his older brother would take the blame with him for - like all three-year-olds, Lucas often did weird stuff like sticking small blobs of play-dough at random points round the house or carefully digging up slugs, one by one, from the garden and re-housing them in the kitchen sink.

Instead he gritted his teeth as Lucas slid on to the end of his pillow, turned several times, settled for the uncomfortable position of sleeping face down and, with muffled sobs, angrily thumped the pillow over and over with his small fists.

At last he sat up, tears shining on his little face, mucus running down his button nose, and Jack offered him the corner of the pillow slip, which Lucas ignored till Jack gently swiped him round his head.

Lucas blew hard, Jack waited till he finished, then advised, “Next time though you better use your PJs.”

“O-okay,” Lucas whimpered, and offered the pillow back, which Jack immediately returned.

“Nah. You sleep on it tonight.”

“Ta.” Lucas hugged the pillow to him, oblivious to what he’d just wiped on it. His lower lip trembling, he looked up at his older brother. “Why are they shouting? Don’t they like us anymore?”

“Its just a blue, Luc. All Mums and Dads have them. Shut up crying and go to sleep, hey?”

Jack felt guilty for speaking sharply. Lucas obediently swallowed a shuddering tearful breath, nodded fearfully and slid quietly downwards, still clutching the pillow tightly to his chest, where he lay in uncharacteristic silence, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the noise downstairs, hiccuping ever so gently, tear streaks on his terrified moonlit face.

Impulsively, Jack wrapped his arm around his younger brother and, gratefully reassured, Lucas immediately curled up against him and the pillow.

“No smelly farting though or you’re out,” Jack warned in a stage whisper. “Now get to sleep.”

And, after a while, Lucas had finally managed to do just that, quietly sobbing, sniffling and whimpering his way into oblivion. Jack had not been able to find such peace. Even when the slamming doors ceased and silence reigned, he lay wide awake, his own frightened, silent tears raining down his face. Listening and thinking.

He still heard that argument. Even now. Every time he heard raised voices, he remembered it. It had changed his whole life, the way he perceived things. After that row, everything changed.

The kitchen had been unnaturally calm and quiet the next morning when Jack, leaving Lucas still in the land of dreams and with the whole of the duvet he’d stolen last night, snuck in to find his Mum cooking breakfast.

He had been trying not to make a noise but he tripped over something and almost fell. It took him a full minute to realise what he’d tripped over.

Two large cases next to the door.

“You okay, sweetie?” Mum asked, and Jack nodded. His eyes on the cases.

“Where’s Dad?” he finally ventured.

“Gone to work. As usual.” She turned swiftly away, her response sharp, as if she didn’t want to talk about Dad.

“What are they for?” he asked, gesturing towards the cases.

“Mummy has to go away for a little while,” she softly explained, turning back to face him.

“Are you coming back?”

“Of course I am. I always do, don’t I?” She giggled, kissed his head, and placed a plate of delicious looking bacon and eggs in front of him.

Jack relaxed. Occasionally she had to go away overnight to do with her work. He deliberately let the warning bell in his mind ring unanswered. Not wanting anything to be bad. Okay, so normally she only took a small case and a canvas bag filled with miniature free samples. But maybe this time for some reason she had to take giant bottles of shampoo and multi-pack bars of soap to show to the sales people.

“Good! Because Dad makes lousy brekkie,” he replied, shuddering at the memory of burnt bacon and runny eggs.

Mum made a little coughing noise and Jack looked up to see tears in her eyes.

“What’s the matter?” He asked in alarm.

“Nothing, sweetie. Just a bad cold. And just thinking how much I love you and Lucas,” she replied, tenderly stroking his hair and curling strands round her fingers. “Guess I better try wake your brother and get him ready for kindy.”

She sniffed and rolled her tearful eyes Heavenwards as she spoke - it was a family joke about Lucas being such a deep sleeper - and Jack, believing the bad cold story, grinned happily back. Mum loved him and little pain-in-the-butt Luc. All was well with the world.

“He’s in my bed. He was scared. I was good and looked after him. Can I have all his bacon if he don’t get up in five minutes?”

When he had returned home that evening, she had gone. Forever. Despite her promises. Despite her saying how much she loved them. She never came back. Not ever.

Lonely days faded into weeks, and then months and years. Confusion faded to hurt and then to anger and bitterness. He watched his Dad growing thin, pale and tired, struggling to hold down a job while looking after him and Lucas.

A broken man who cried over her photo when he thought they never saw. His Dad, who bathed their cut knees and took them to the movies and the beach, who bought them new shoes and cheered them on till he was hoarse when they played in Sunday footie games. Who made sure they brushed their teeth and ate their veggies and had clean uniforms for school. Who was always there when they went to bed and when they woke in the morning. Men you could trust. Men you could rely on.

Women left. Women said they loved you and then they left. He would never put his faith or love in a woman again.

Amy Anderson was the first.

Amy Anderson had been the girl next door. The irritating bratty little kid who’d followed him around, wanting to join in with boyish games, looking at him with adoring eyes and calling him Jacky.

That name grated on him even now. He remembered Lucas teasing him.

‘Jacky and Amy sitting in a tree…’

He remembered moaning to his father that she wouldn’t leave him alone and his father’s laughing response. “Maybe she fancies you?”

He could still picture the delight on Amy’s face when he had asked her out.

“Me? I thought you hated me!”

“Why would I hate you?”

“I don’t know. You’re always so nasty to me…”

“Well, if you don’t want to…” He shrugged, turning his back on her and began walking away.

“No, wait! I do! I really do! Please go out with me! Everyone at school will be sooo jealous!” She ran after him and caught hold of his arm, almost bubbling over with excitement.

“Why?” he asked her, confused.

She looked at him in astonishment. “Because they ALL like you!”

And that had been it. The realisation that he was desirable.

Amy Anderson had been dumped three days later and replaced by Susie Jones. Then came Helen Short (wept over the Valentine’s Day card he never gave her) and her place taken by Anna Overwright (stoked to be asked out on Valentine’s Day).

Jack was a legend in his primary school, respected by all the other guys for his love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude. And, as he grew older and joined Summer Bay High, he had continued exactly the same way. Using women, winding them around his finger until he got what he wanted, and then casting them aside.

“You ever going to settle down Holden?”

They were sitting in Casey’s American style coffee-house and Jack had been eyeing up a group of attractive blondes. He looked up at his then best mate Paul Harrison and shrugged.

“What’s the point? Women only ever screw you up. You might as well get in there first. Screw ‘em and leave ‘em.”

“You don’t believe there’s someone for everyone then?” Paul had looked at him eagerly, as if Jack’s opinion mattered more than anything else in the world.

“Maybe there is but you can’t trust women. They only ever leave. Best not to let them get close.” Taking a sip of his milkshake, he winked at one of the blondes and headed in her direction to make his move.

And, to begin with, Martha Stewart had been just another conquest in a long line of conquests. It started simply enough.

Still smarting over all the extra schoolwork, he angrily swung his heavy school bag over his shoulder and unscrewed the top off a bottle, ready to take a refreshing gulp of OJ. That was when someone suddenly jogged his elbow, spilling juice all down his crisp white school shirt. Jeez, that was all he needed!

He turned, rounding on the person furiously. Only to stop dead in his tracks on meeting the sorry, scared expression in her brown eyes.

Gorgeous brown eyes.

Like she’d cast some magic spell over him, his bad mood miraculously evaporated. He asked her out that very second. Unable to hold out any longer. Hold out against what, he didn’t know. She was just another chick. A stunningly beautiful chick with gorgeous eyes, but just another chick.

He suggested that she went on a date with him as payback. She shyly agreed, her cheeks tinged by pink. Maybe she was remembering that glimpse of him shirtless working out at the school gym. Maybe she remembered that she had looked longer than was necessary. That once she had established her friends weren’t there, there really had been no need for her to stand leaning against the open door, watching.

Jack smiled at the memory. He was used to girls falling for him. He’d always had a certain charm with women. Arrogance, his Dad called it, but Jack preferred to call it confidence. He was confident around women. He knew just what to say and do to get them exactly where he wanted them and stupid, brainless women fell for it every time.

But Martha was...different.

He didn’t know how, but fortunately it hit him before it was too late! Suddenly he knew what he’d been holding out against. He had nearly slipped, but he had pulled himself back from the brink just in time.

He had become careless. Martha had been fun at first. A challenge. Like he had with all the rest, he had got his own way with her. He had grown used to stalling her arguments with kisses, but she had challenged him too. And at times given as good as she got.

He had enjoyed her company and he knew she enjoyed his. But then she had ruined things.

“You’re quiet tonight.”

“Just thinking.”

“About me?”

“Yeah.”

“About how devilishly sexy I am?”

“About how much I love you.” She had looked at him, shyly, from under her long lashes but Jack had said nothing. Merely stood up and left the room.

That night he had slept with Gypsy.

Martha had taken him back though. Sure, he had had to work at it, but he had never backed down from a challenge. And he hoped she had got the message, never to say anything like that ever again. Never to ruin things again.

But he had been wrong. She had ruined things again.

Tonight there had been genuine hurt in her eyes when she confronted him about Gypsy being here. She seemed genuinely devastated and Jack had suddenly realised the true extent of her feelings. He might have brushed off her declaration of love, but she had said it and tonight, during their argument, he realised she meant it.

And he was in too deep. He was in danger of caring and Jack Holden didn’t care about women. Jack Holden picked women up and dismissed them. Martha was the first one he had wanted to be around longer than a few weeks and that made her dangerous.

Looking over in her direction, he realised she’d turned her back on him. But then he had turned his back on her first. He always turned his back first.

“Why are you doing this, Jack? You know what Gypsy’s like. Why are you letting her break up your relationship?” Kim’s voice cut into Jack’s memories, and he spun round angrily to face him.

“Gypsy hasn’t broken up anything. I did. Have you ever considered that maybe I just don’t want to be with Martha?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her. Why throw that away?” Kim challenged.

“I‘m not the one who threw it away,” Jack muttered sadly.

“You slept with Gypsy!” Kim’s expression was one of pure disbelief.

“Yeah, well maybe I had my reasons. Maybe I’m just not cut out for relationships. At least with Gypsy it’s easy, uncomplicated,” Jack admitted.

“That’s because Gypsy is easy, Jack. Why let her walk all over you?”

“Look who’s talking! If I remember rightly, Gypsy was found in bed with you earlier.” Jack glared at Kim. The guy was being such a hypocrite.

“That’s why I know she’s trouble. She’s gone and ruined things between me and Hayley.”

Kim swallowed back an involuntary sob. Guys weren’t supposed to cry but he was still hurting. After finding Kim and Gypsy in bed together, Hayley had hinted she’d go out with him if he finished with Gypsy and, stoked at his big chance to be with her at last, he’d done just that. Only for Hayley to laugh in his face when he told her they were over. And for Gypsy to tell him in no uncertain terms where to go.

“No, Kim, you ruined things between you and Hayley. Don’t go blaming Gypsy. You knew exactly what you were getting into.”

Jack turned away from his friend angrily. He had no idea why he was defending Gypsy. Except that there was something about Gypsy that reminded him very much of himself.

“But Gypsy’s a user,” Kim protested, wondering how this argument had managed to be turned on its head so he was now the one having to defend his actions.

“And what the hell is wrong with that?” Jack snapped. “How dare you warn me off her when you were with her yourself? You’re a bloody hypocrite, Kim Hyde!”

Jack didn’t see Kim’s fist coming, but he certainly felt its effect as he was knocked backwards by the blow. But he quickly regained control and launched himself straight back at Kim as a full scale fight began. Within seconds, other people surrounded them and Jack felt himself being forcibly pulled away. He quickly identified his captor as Noah and stopped struggling.

“What the hell was all that about?” Noah demanded.

“Nothing,” Jack replied, shrugging him off.

Storming outside, he took long, deep breaths of the rain-cooled night air in a desperate attempt to control his anger and his thoughts. Where the hell that row had come from, he had no idea. His head was pounding, the argument playing over and over in his head. Except it wasn’t the argument with Kim now. This was a different argument. One he had been hearing in his mind for many years.

The shouting had slowly grown, from a dull murmur of raised voices to a full on screaming match. Abuse, yelled at the highest decibels, seemed to bounce from one parent to another. Like a ping pong ball.

Six-year-old Jack had buried his head deeply under the covers...

Next to him a sudden rustling of leaves startled him into looking up. Straight into the eyes of Gypsy.

“I think maybe we need to talk,” she suggested, quietly.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I think we do.”

[I love music]

Okay, this is a guest chapter from me. Kat has read and is okay with me posting. Many thanks to Kat for the many ideas, in particular the Cassie/Kane scenario. And for all her brilliant earlier writing and inspired creation of this story in the first place.

***chapter 14***

The music was really beginning to grate on his nerves now. Everything was.

The pattering rain and the shivering trees. The gloominess of the heavy grey clouds and the difficulty in lighting up to smoke. Down on the wharf, the usual crowds of tourists and locals who were eating, drinking and dancing the night away, the smell of pizza floating up from the little pizza parlour directly below and the drunk staggering alone, dangerously close to water lit by colourful, almost hypnotic, wavering lines of lamplight.

The partygoers were another source of irritation. He threw the stub of another cigarette down to the ground and looked back at the party house.

Now and again silhouettes emerged into the rain-streaked night, to pash, throw up or just chat and smoke.

A couple of people were instantly recognisable: being the tallest guy in Summer Bay High, David Molyneaux was impossible to miss and Sarah Wakefield had lately dyed her hair a particularly bright shade of red that was shining like a firey beacon. That, and the nose ring, had nearly given principal Flathead Fisher an apoplectic fit besides earning her a suspension. And Megan Ashcroft was still slumped against the same tree and still oblivious to all around her, where she had been when he and Hayley had passed ages ago.

He was too far away to tell who any of the others were. And who the hell cared anyway? He dug his heel heavily into the soil and grass, viciously grounding down the already-lifeless cigarette. Plastic people living plastic lives in pampered bubble worlds. Yeh, well, maybe they should try living in the real world for just one day. Except it wasn’t the real world. It was somewhere far darker. Where he’d always lived.

Sometimes he could still hear her screams echoing around the walls. And there were still the brown-red splashes of blood, the lingering random stains where she’d been flung somewhere again like a rag doll. But the worst stains of all had come from her own hand.

Fresher than the rest, spurts of blood covered every inch of the bathroom. The place where she had tried to end it all. In a way, she had succeeded.

She “lived” now in a hospital ward, eyes vacant, face pasty, wearing the strange, vacant, faraway smile of the lost forever. Or was the smile because she knew she’d escaped his father at last, even if it had only been to a fog of twilight inside her own mind? After a while, he’d stopped visiting. Pointless really, when she didn’t know who he was. Who anybody was anymore.

After the brief hiccup of her suicide attempt, the Phillips’ lives went on as usual.

His father solved the problem of her absence by frequent drives to a downtown red light district until one night he made the mistake of getting nicked with a stash of drugs in the back of the truck and was awarded two years in the slammer. His older brother Scott picked up chicks, dodged working, dealed, drank, fought, and generally managed, more by luck than design, to stay one step ahead of the law. They rarely saw each other unless they passed by in some fleeting moment, Scotty maybe leading some new chick upstairs or maybe having a new supply and impatient customers hammering down the door. They even more rarely spoke, unless it was to yell at each other. Mostly he stayed out of his way. Scott had an iron fist and a penchant for violence.

Rose Phillips, the widow of Dad’s brother, made up the final part of the Phillips clan. Reverted to her maiden name after her husband’s death and last heard of living somewhere in Yabbie Creek, there was a rumour she’d upped sticks for some big city, but nobody knew anything for certain; she had long since cut all ties.

And he himself, he wandered somewhere on the edges of the earth, never belonging anywhere. He didn’t know why he ever bothered turning up at Summer Bay High. Maybe because the education authorities might ask questions. Maybe because it was somewhere to go out of the rain and laugh at spoilt little rich girls like Hayley Smith or pompous pathetic little losers like Adam Kerr.

It had even crossed his mind. Nothing to lose. Nothing to live for. Easy to picture in the silence of the wee, small hours when he woke sweating, from a dream where he heard again her terrible screams and his father’s punches and the heavy thwack of her body being thrown against the walls.

Once he had tried to stop it. Only once in all those years and never again because Dad had beaten him so badly and then lashed out at his wife worse than ever before. Two days after his twelfth birthday, when he had made up his mind he wouldn’t let it go on any longer.

Five days after his twelfth birthday, when he was finally able to move again, albeit with painful slowness, he asked her why she let Dad go on and on bashing her.

They spoke quietly, standing by the sink where she was washing a mountain of dishes, afraid that at any moment his father or Scott, who drank heavily too, would walk in and hear them. He strained his ears to understand because, since the day her husband had jabbed a broken glass into her mouth when she dared protest at his treatment of their sons when they had been six and ten years old, she spoke with a lisp that gave her voice a peculiar accent.

She only looked away and said it was all her own fault, she knew his father had a temper and yet still she made him angry. She smiled then. A small, sad ghost of a smile, and in that strange broken voice, said he mustn’t worry about her, she’d be right.

Till the day he got home from school and found her already half dead and floating in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he thought it might have been kinder not to have called the ambo. Or was she was happy now, in that faraway smile of the lost?

Night by night so many bitter memories unfolding like an uncurled fist in this shadowland of blood and drugs and violence, in this room of peeling wallpaper and carpet so worn that the pattern had long since blurred to a mish-mash of faded colours.

And then the yellow light of morning would creep uncertainly once more through the paper thin curtains and he would shake away the cobwebs of sleep to begin yet another day, still filled with all this anger and hatred and nowhere to unleash it.

*****

Martha Stewart still hadn’t figured out the politics at Summer Bay High. Nothing to do with socio-economics and history and all that boring stuff, you understand. Summer Bay High politics were more subtle and had to do with the way you looked, what you wore, who you dated. And, like shifting sands, it changed daily. All she knew was that Hayley Smith was the leading light in deciding who was part of the in crowd and who was definitely out.

She had been stoked when Hayley had invited her to Saturday lunch at a very much in bistro in Mangrove River (on a whirlwind tour of Oz, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jollie had once stopped by with their kids; to prove it, their photos were plastered all over the walls and prices had increased drastically) if a little unsettled when Hayley began finding fault with what she was wearing.

“See, it’s daggy...” Hayley fingered the too-large collar of the stripey blouse that Martha had flung on that morning without a second’s thought. “And so last decade, dear!”

Martha flushed as Hayley’s companions giggled in appreciation of her joke and Hayley gave a supercilious smile and shook her head as she looked down at Martha’s faded jeans and serviceable, comfortable boots. “Daggy clothes. No make up. Hair just...well, just left! We need to get you sorted out and fast, Mac. Drag you into this century.”

She’d never have dreamed of telling her the truth: that Martha still looked fantastic and would have looked just as fantastic even if she’d turned up for lunch in a bin bag. Until now, the most beautiful girl in Summer Bay High, Hayley Smith was dangerously close to being upstaged. The sooner she got the newbie blending in instead of cutting a striking figure with her own unique look and natural beauty, the better. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Martha couldn’t help a small sigh. She’d never bothered with girlie stuff before and wasn’t sure she wanted to bother now. “Aw, it’s okay, thanks. I’m fine as I am.”

“What? Don’t you want guys to notice you?” Lisa Hanley, astonished, paused from nibbling at a healthy green salad. Lisa had an older sister who was constantly dieting and who’s weight constantly yo-yoed so she was always terrified of putting on an extra few pounds and being cast out of Hayley’s gang. And always hungry. She stopped staring enviously at her friends’ plates to stare incredulously at Martha.

“Yeh. Sure I do. But, Hayles, wouldn’t they have to be pretty shallow to only care about what I looked like?”

Martha looked at her new friend with wide-eyed innocence, trusting her implicitly. Hayley was so sophisticated. Having three older brothers, no sisters, and a Mum who’d been about as interested in girlie issues as her adopted daughter was, apart from her friends in the village (and somehow Martha knew Hayley would have dismissed them all as country bumpkins) there had hardly been any feminine influence in her life. But she had to get used to new ways, new people and places now. And she was grateful for any advice. It was kind of Hayley to go out of her way to help her fit in at Summer Bay High, where everything was so very different to what she’d been used to before.

The little village school that she had attended in the tiny farming community of Brookdown had never held more than twenty-eight kids at any one time and the students (or pupils, as Mrs Nevett, the apple-cheeked, silver-haired principal, quaintly liked to call them) regarded themselves more as an extended family than a school. In fact, four of them had been from her own family: Martha and her three older brothers, two of whom were already old enough to leave for the big, wide world before Martha had even timidly created her first hand-painted print inside reception.

McKenzie had still been her surname back in those quiet, unhurried days, when the only things that ever ruffled feathers would be if someone forgot their lines in the end-of-term show or if Mr Roscoe had given them some particularly tough homework assignment.

Like the village, Brookdown School was small and friendly. Her friends would only tease her gently and Paul Buckley, the guy she’d been dating on and off since they were both thirteen and “just good mates”, would only laugh at how often she paused to look with pride at the football team photographs in the glass case outside Mrs Nevett’s office. Brookdown itself was too small to field its own footie team, but Chris and Tommo (always their full names of Christopher and Thomas McKenzie on the certificates and photos) were star players with the bigger and quite successful amateur team belonging to the nearby town of Hampton.

Being the two adopted kids, Michael (better known as Macca) and Martha (better known as Mac) were closer in age but, unlike with Chris and Tommo, there had always been an element of danger about Macca, sudden, unexpected flashes of anger, that made her feel she never really knew him even half as well as her two eldest brothers.

Like Chris and Tommo, Macca was sporty and Michael McKenzie’s name too appeared in the sporting roles of honour though it was obvious from the outset that he would never be clever enough to make it on the engraved inscriptions of ex-pupils who’d done Brookdown proud like Dr Christopher McKenzie and Professor Thomas McKenzie.

But the tragic accident that claimed the lives of her adopted parents had catapulted her out of the gentle cocoon of Brookdown into a strange, new life, with her grandfather Alf Stewart in Summer Bay, and, at Summer Bay High at any rate, a pretty fake one. Even Macca, unpredictable as he was, wasn’t there to help her settle in, having just left school that same term.

So it had been a breath of fresh air when Cassie unexpectedly joined them. There was something so childlike and honest about her, about the way she watched everyone and everything through those large, haunted eyes.

Martha’s heart lunged in pity when she saw her standing alone, hair blown about so much by the wind that it looked like an electric shock had run through it, an overflowing school bag with a snapped strap clutched tightly to her chest, one shoe worn at the heel, looking up at the clock and back at the notice board in total confusion.

She must have been aware of the laughter and whispers as Hayley scornfully pointed out “the dag”, but, if she was, she didn’t show it. Martha knew she should have followed the crowd. It was the way things were done here. But it wasn’t the way things had been done in Brookdown and she couldn’t find it in her to be mean.

Ignoring everyone, she broke away and lightly touched Cassie’s elbow.

“Hey! I’m Martha. Need some help?”

She was rewarded with a smile that reminded her of the day a Brookdown neighbour’s two-year-old daughter, out shopping with her mother, had wandered out of the local store and was sobbing her little heart out with fear and distress until she’d suddenly spotted Martha, her frequent babysitter, and had run to her eagerly with that same heartfelt smile of trust and hope.

Cassie and Martha had been friends from that moment. Nothing could come between them. They thought.

*****

“Cass, why do you want to waste your time with Kane Phillips? He’s a loser. Everyone says so.”

“But you heard. You heard what Hayley said. He likes me.”

“Yeh, well, don’t believe everything Hayley says,” Martha muttered, taking such a sudden gulp of her drink that she almost choked, and wishing she could stop watching them. But she couldn’t.

She was genuinely worried about her friend, but it was hard to concentrate on anything much when you were watching your boyfriend still busy making a fool of himself with that stupid witch Gypsy Nash. She had seen Hayley flee upstairs earlier too and knew there’d be ructions that she hadn’t gone to see what had upset her this time. Probably in a strop because she’d got wet or seen a spider or something. Whatever, it would be trivial. Hayley liked to make a fuss over nothing and star in her own little dramas. She got to look good.

Martha realised, with a stab of guilt, that she wasn’t being very supportive of either of her friends. But she couldn’t help it. Jack and Gypsy made her so mad that reason flew out the window and she didn’t feel like being nice to anyone.

“I know why are you being like this, Mac. You’re jealous of me and Kane getting together.”

“Whaaat?” Out of the corner of her eye, Martha had just seen Jack, the mongrel, the rotten, rotten mongrel, after fighting with Kim, running out after that witch Gypsy. But Cassie’s statement was so far from the truth and so un-Cassie-like in its almost vindictive tone that Martha spun round in shock, finally giving her friend her full attention.

“I’m right. You’re jealous! It’s written all over your face. You can’t get Jack back so you want Kane. Well, tough luck, it’s me he likes!”

Cassie hated talking the way she was to the only person who’d ever let her be herself. Martha accepted her just as she was and, not being two-faced herself, she was convinced Cassie’s low self-esteem meant she imagined the supposed slights.

But Cassie had seen it all before.

She might be part of Hayley’s crowd, but she knew she’d only got there by virtue of Martha being her friend. And she wasn’t stupid. Hayley looked down on her and got everyone else to do the same. They told her she should wear her hair up or maybe go for a brighter shade of lipstick and then, when she did, they laughed mockingly and said she looked awful; they’d been wrong after all.

And Martha was never around when Cassie heard someone stifle a laugh as she entered the room or thought she heard someone whisper something unflattering or strongly suspected by the abrupt silence that she'd just been the topic of discussion. She tried hard to blend in, but she knew there was something different about her. Maybe that was why her uncle had done what he did. Maybe she’d always been different. Marked.

“Fight! Fight!” Adam Kerr announced, cupping his hands round his mouth, and causing people nearby to look round.

“Oh, **** off and grow up, Adam!”

Judging by the brief, stunned silence around her, Cassie knew her uncharacteristic outburst had shocked everyone close enough to watch the scene unfold. This was all done for the benefit of Adam bloody Kerr anyway. Cassie had felt his eyes boring into her ever since he had followed Martha and herself back inside. She knew he was watching their every move, waiting for some little touch between them that he could deliberately misinterpret and stir the gossip pot with.

She knew she was talking too loudly, partly because she’d had a few too many drinks to give herself Dutch courage, partly because she was pathetically desperate to make him see it was guys she preferred.

“I don’t know why I bothered asking you and Hayley in the first place. I’m going to find Kane myself. And I’m going to ask him straight if he likes me.”

“Cassie...”

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare try and spoil things for me, Martha Stewart! I’ll never speak to you ever again if you try and stop me!”

“Cassie, please...”

Oh, God, she’d have given anything to fling her arms round Martha right now and sob on her shoulder about how mixed up she was over everything. But she couldn’t, could she? People like Adam Kerr wouldn’t see it as a simple need for reassurance from a friend. People like Adam Kerr would twist every word, every gesture. She’d have done anything for Martha. She was sister, best friend, Mum, all rolled into one.

But she swung away now and began walking steadfastly towards the open door. This night would be the first night of the rest of her life. This night, this breathless night, with its steadily falling rain, would be the night everything changed. Why was she so afraid?

She could see him in the distance, scowling down at the wharf, the sudden glimpse of the moon from behind a cloud showing the rain shining on his face. She pushed up her hair and she smoothed down her clothes, her heart beating nineteen to the dozen. She walked on, her footsteps silent in the soft, muddy earth, the swish of the rain obscuring all sound. Her heart reached her mouth and left her throat dry; her thoughts raced with images of her uncle and cruelly told her she was nothing and no one who mattered. So scared, so scared. So alone.

But it was what she wanted, she told herself. Once she had a relationship with a guy her own age, once she had a boyfriend, she could be normal. Couldn’t she? Kane was like herself. An outsider. He’d understand and he’d be kind. Wouldn’t he? Cassie couldn’t take any more of being hurt.

“Hey, Kane,” she said sexily, putting her hand on his shoulder.

[Skykat]

Its been so long since we wrote any of this so I wouldn't be surprised if nobody is still reading. However for those who are interested here is another guest chapter from the wonderful I love Music. I appologise for the gap in updates, my head hasn't been in writing, luckily I have a co-author who's a lot more interested than me.

This contains a warning for sexual content. Enjoy, this is one seriously good chapter!

***chapter 15***

Something glittered in the flicker of moonlight that trickled through the pencil-thin gap as she opened the curtains - just a fraction. Afraid of the dark and yet afraid of the light. Afraid to be alone and yet afraid to be seen. What the hell had Kane Phillips done to her? Hayley’s hand trembled as she stretched down from the comfort of the bed and the duvet wrapped protectively around her shoulders and reached, with difficulty, towards the thick-pile carpet for what she thought was a lost ear-ring - only to hear herself give a small strangled scream of terror as her fingers grasped and immediately dropped the object.

The eye rolled somewhere under the bed. Watching.

Oh, for God’s sake, she’d end up as loopy as Crazy Cassie if she carried on freaking herself out like this! There was nothing to be afraid of. There were heaps of people here. Normality. Music thudding from downstairs, laughter and voices and sounds of partying. Freddie Teddy was in the bin and his missing glass eye could join the rest of him in the final goodbye to childhood.

Hayley pushed back the duvet and got up off the bed. She swept her hand across the carpet where the eye must have fallen. No use. She needed more light. The sooner it was in the bin, the better. Even if it did only belong to a stupid stuffed toy, it was strangely unnerving, knowing it was there.

She scrambled up to her feet and drew the floor-length curtains back across the wooden pole. Brighter now. Reassuring.

The view from Hayley’s bedroom was magnificent. Far away and monochrome in the silver moonlight, always reminding her of the beginning of a TV documentary about African wildlife by night that Nick had got her to watch with him once (at the time, Nick had been trying to persuade their new Mum and Dad to let him have a tiger cub as a pet and was getting as many people as he could onside) the shadowy trees of the copse huddled together in secret whispers and swayed in the hushed breeze, as if expecting some unnamed danger would emerge any moment. Nearer, the river, with its boats and colourful harbour lights, always reminded her of something else.

Ghosts.

Black clouds rolled ominously across the sky and she shivered. The day they’d planted the sapling, Will, intrigued by the long disused and ivy-covered restaurant at the end of the harbour, had tried to spook everyone by swearing, deadpan, he’d heard about a grey lady who rose from the river and, wailing and wringing her hands, walked up the winding stone steps to disappear inside.

But only Hayley had been spooked. Nothing ever fazed Nick. George Smith threw back his head and laughed and Julie Smith frowned at the “nonsenseâ€. Making Hayley wonder if Will, without realising, had accidentally stumbled on a real supernatural tale. Though she wasn’t entirely sure she even believed in them, tales of ghosts spooked Hayley. Maybe because, if they existed, they would feel exactly how she had felt ever since she’d been five years old and their new parents had taken in Will, Nick and herself. On the outside, looking in.

She was the most beautiful, most popular girl in Summer Bay High and people hung on her every word, but nobody had bothered to come up and see if she was alright. Nobody. Not even her own brother, who’d been far too busy sucking the face off snobby Dani What’s-her-Name. Maybe Nick, if he’d been here instead of wrapped up in his Hollywood career, might have been worried about her. But she doubted it.

Freddie Teddy’s mutilated remains, hacked at with her nails and small, sharp scissors, were dumped in the bin. Childhood dreams were long dead. Julie Smith was in Hollywood with Nick, living the high life shopping till she dropped, arranging to have a face lift, boob job and her own personal trainer, bragging about her movie star son. George Smith had various meetings in the city and was staying over in a plush hotel for a couple of days, leaving Will in charge of the house and trusting him to deal with any business queries that may arise while he was away - after all, as he remarked to Will, with Nick off pursuing his acting dream, the property empire would be in Will’s capable hands when he eventually retired. Of Hayley, nobody expected anything. They never had done.

The day she, Will and Nick had planted the tree, their very first week here in Summer Bay, she’d hoped things might change. But they hadn’t. She was still on the outside, looking in. She always would be. Sometimes she even toyed with the idea of setting their home on fire, just to shake them up and make them realise she was alive. At least at Summer Bay High she was someone who counted. Anyone who crossed Hayley Smith learnt never to cross her again.

Phil Wainwright, the gawky student teacher, hadn’t lasted the term after pulling Hayley up in front of the whole class over her English assignments. All she had to do was flutter her long eyelashes and pout her full lips and there was never any shortage of guys willing to take revenge on her behalf. Kane Phillips deserved payback. She hadn’t decided how yet, but she would. Hayley looked thoughtfully out at the night.

And that was when she saw the couple. She knew it was him. And she was certain, though she had her back to her, that the dark-haired, tall, thin figure was Cassie. She watched, feeling nauseous with disgust, repulsed as his hands snaked over the girl’s body, as the wind gained a new strength and rain tapped against the window once more, in small, light, steady drops.

Like tears.

*****

“I thought you wanted it?â€

“I did...I do...â€

“Then what the matter?â€

“It all seems a bit...a bit rushed.†Cassie forced a smile and wished she could stop shaking inside. After all, he wasn’t her uncle. He was a normal guy her own age and other chicks made out with normal guys their own age, didn't they? And she wanted to be like other chicks, didn’t she?

“Sorry, darlin’, there wasn’t time to do the candlelit dinner. But maybe next time.†Kane Phillips said sarcastically.

Jeez, what was wrong with these bloody chicks? All wanting to play games. They offered it to you and then pulled away as soon as you took them up on it. Well, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass like he’d passed up his chance with Princess Hayley.

The sarcasm sailed over Cassie’s head. Naively, she really thought he meant it. She closed her eyes as his mouth pressed hard on her own and tried to ignore her terror as his body pressed against hers and his tongue poked inside her mouth. She took her mind to a small, cosy restaurant, to candlelight glistening on the glasses of red wine which a solemn waiter was pouring as she and Kane, he looking at her in starry eyed adoration, held hands across a white-linen covered table adorned with flowers and...

“What wrong now?â€

“Nothing, nothing!†Cassie was furious with herself for breaking away a second time.

It was a reflex action. Every time her uncle had forced himself on her, she had pulled away, sick with disgust. It should have been different with a normal guy, shouldn’t it? Okay, she’d been on a date with Adam Kerr and that had been a disaster, but she just hadn’t been ready when he made that pass. And, anyway, she’d never really liked Adam Kerr whereas bad boy Kane Phillips, with his blue eyes, lazy grin and smouldering danger only had to glance her way to make her heart skip several beats.

Cassie had always gone for the bad guy in movies. The outsider. Like herself. It wasn’t meant to be like this. Why couldn’t it be how it was in the movies, where the guy cupped his hands round the girl’s face, gazed into her eyes and whispered I love you ? Was she...was she too ugly for that? In all the romances she’d ever read - and she’d read heaps, especially before she came to Summer Bay High, in the days before she had any friends to hang out with - the heroine was inevitably described as beautiful. A dark-eyed beauty or a slim, pretty blonde or a stunning red-head with a figure that curved in all the right places. Ugly people didn’t fall in love. People like Cassie didn’t fall in love.

Kane Phillips sometimes wished he knew how to talk to chicks. Sure, she was three bricks short of a full load, but she was a total babe, hot and up for it. It wasn’t that he particularly cared about her feelings, but he was all fired up here so he did care about having her change her mind at the last minute. Crazy Cassie was notorious for changing her mind.

Like when she’d turned up for a debate on school uniform (he was only there because it was raining cats and dogs) made herself comfortable, set out all her paperwork, drew her breath to make the first speech...and then abruptly walked out, leaving everyone, after the initial stunned silence, crying with laughter.

Or the time she’d ordered a sanga in the school caff and claimed the catering assistant had misheard the order: she hadn’t asked for egg mayo, she’d asked for tuna mayo, and she NEVER ate eggs. The assistant said she’d heard the order perfectly well thank you, and a heated argument developed while an interested crowd gathered round to watch and Crazy Cassie grew redder and redder. Eventually, she’d backed down, said she had wanted egg mayo after all, paid up and fled - without the sanga. There was a rumour she’d locked herself in a store cupboard for a full hour afterwards.

To say Crazy Cassie was weird was an understatement. Sometimes she would be in the thick of the conversation with Hayley’s crowd; other times she would ignore everyone and press herself so far back against the wall it seemed as though she was trying to blend herself in with it. Or she would sit on the very edge of her seat and, making a strange humming sound, rock herself back and forth until she suddenly became aware of where she was and what she was doing.

Only Martha Stewart could ever talk her round though nobody could understand why someone as cool as Martha chose to hang round with a weirdo. But, hey, a chick was a chick, crazy or not, and he was a normal, red-blooded male.

“Bit cold and damp out here. How about we book us a room inside?â€

A flicker of a smile crossed Cassie’s anxious face. He cared about her! He cared about her being cold.

“Yeh. Okay.â€

Nice smile, nice eyes, Kane Phillips thought vaguely, and this time she seemed okay when he drew her close as they walked back towards the house. They both knew where this was going so what the **** had all the earlier been drama about? Jeez, chicks were a bloody mystery!

*****

“Martha!â€

Martha swung round, startled, guilty at being caught out. Not that there was anything to be caught out about. She couldn’t hear them. She couldn’t see them. But just knowing they had gone out there, her Jack, her lovely, lovely, sweet Jack, and that man-eater Gypsy Nash was enough. And she had been torturing herself with wild imaginings of what might be happening out there ever since. Wondering if they were pashing or whispering in each other’s ears or maybe even making out in the copse.

Hayley had a good point when she remarked that Gypsy’s olds should have named her Martini (any time, any place, anywhere). Martha bit her lip. She never used to be so bitchy. She’d only got like this since coming to Summer Bay High. Since Jack had broken her heart and her best friend had turned on her. Poor Cassie was so innocent about guys, with all her talk about needing a boyfriend. Ha! Boys! You were better off without them.

Martha was still blinking back tears and trying to tell herself he wasn’t worth crying over when Hayley’s voice broke into her thoughts.

She had been standing by the door, holding the same drink, ever since Cassie had gone in search of Kane. A couple guys had hopefully asked if she wanted a refill, but she’d only smiled and shook her head and made like she was waiting for someone. Standing near Cassie’s own drink, which Cassie had slammed down as she stormed out, probably gave more credence to her act. Anyhow, she was waiting for someone. Though she knew, the minute he walked inside she would walk away like she didn’t care, grateful for the dark because tears would sting her eyes and roll unchecked down her cheeks.

She circled her finger round the rim of the glass and tried to think up a quick excuse. Hayley wouldn’t lose a chance to mock if she saw she was upset.

“Why didn’t you come up to see how I was?†Hayley demanded in her usual imperious way.

But, to Martha’s bewilderment, her voice tapered off and quavered before it even reached the end of the question. She looked up curiously. Her friend looked unusually pale. And in her eyes there was a strange aloneness that Martha had never seen before. She forgot about lame excuses and Hayley’s natural bitchiness. Her heart lurched in sympathy.

“Hey, you okay, Hales? What’s wrong?â€

Hayley pulled herself together. The experience with Kane Phillips had shaken her to the core, but she had to remember that she was the stunningly beautiful Hayley Smith, super rich family, movie star brother, heartthrob older brother, and the stunningly beautiful Hayley Smith didn’t take sympathy from wannabes. She didn’t know what had made her run downstairs in the first place. Who cared what happened to Crazy Cassie? She’d had tickets on herself ever since she came to Summer Bay High.

“Your daggy mate. It’s her own fault,†she replied coolly.

“Cass?†Martha stared at Hayley blankly, turning icy cold. Cassie was like a kid sister to her. Kane Phillips might be rough, but he’d never hurt her - would he? “Has...has something happened to Cass?â€

Hayley shrugged dismissively. “Who knows? She’s out there with that mongrel. Still, they go together well, don’t they? Cassie can be a bitch when she wants to be.â€

Martha bristled. Hayley was obviously jealous. She may be queen bee at Summer Bay High but Kane Phillips didn’t play to anyone’s rules but his own. He’d probably told her to rack off when she made a move on him.

“Don’t be mean. Cassie’s sweet.â€

Hayley tossed back her long, silky blonde hair, noticed some random guy watching, and turned the casual move into something more while pretending she hadn’t seen him.

“Cassie’s sweet,†Adam Kerr mocked in a high-pitched voice, making Hayley giggle.

Where the hell had he sprung from, Martha wondered irritably. Adam Kerr had a habit of sneaking around listening to conversations that didn’t concern him almost as if materialised out of thin air or travelled up from beneath the floor.

Adam smirked at Martha’s annoyed expression and blew soft, warm air on the back of Hayley’s neck, making her shiver with delight. They had always got on well together. They both appreciated the beautiful people and had no time for the losers and dags. Adam would have liked to take their friendship further, but Hayley wasn’t interested though she loved the attention. Still, he’d never given up hope and was always out to impress her.

He whispered something in Hayley’s ear now that made her gasp and her eyes widen. She giggled again and she and Adam looked at Martha in a way that made her feel suddenly very uncomfortable though she didn’t know why.

She turned away. She was sick of having people bag her out when she tried to help them. Stuff Hayley! Stuff Cassie! Stuff everyone! Most of all, stuff Jack Holden for breaking her heart. This was a party, wasn’t it? Well, she was going to enjoy herself. She was going to get absolutely stinking rotten blind drunk.

*****

Kane Phillips whistled as he strolled home, absently jingling some loose coins in his pocket, realising there were a few dollars in there keeping them company and wondering whether to round off the night in Sam’s Bar. Nobody asked questions about your age in Sam’s Bar. Generally, nobody asked questions about anything. Safer that way.

Sam’s Bar was dark, dingy and dismal and wasn’t very picky about its clientele: fights frequently broke out about nothing in particular and it was dangerous to even look at anyone sideways. But its beer was strong and cheap and you could get blotto without much cash or snort a line of coke without the pigs hassling.

He looked towards the door where an ageing hell's angel with long, filthy hair and nicotine stained fingers was staggering out with a stick thin teenager who was high on smack. Nah. Maybe not such a good idea after all. Sam’s Bar was often a favourite haunt of his brother and his mates.

Instead he headed down to the wharf, to a quiet, hidden place where he and Scotty used to play as kids, to sit on the wooden pier where brightly-painted boats creaked on the dark river. **** the ciggies he’d been smoking at Princess Hayley’s prissy pop party.

He rolled a joint and filled his lungs. Crazy Cassie was beautiful and sexy and had been an awesome lay. She’d seemed a bit strange when he left but who knew what went on in that loopy mind of hers? He had no intention of repeating the experience anyway. Couldn’t cope with those bloody weird mood swings!

He grinned as he gazed up at the cloud-laden sky. Hayley’s party had been the pits, but it had ended up being a fantastic night.

*****

Cassie caught her reflection in the moonlit mirror. Ugly, ugly, ugly. Shoulders too thin, hair too greasy, tears streaking down her cheeks.

“It’s what you deserve,†she whispered.

Her reflection hung her head in shame and shed yet more tears but Cassie had no sympathy for her. She had brought it all on herself.

They had gone back in the house through a small side window hidden from view by bushes, and, like all the windows were, flung open to let some air slice into the stifling heat generated by so many crowded together. Cassie, surprised, asked him how he even knew the window was there in the first place.

“Lucky guess,†he shrugged, his hand lingering far too long on the small of her back as he helped her climb inside.

She wasn’t a piece of raw meat to be pawed at every opportunity, Cassie thought angrily. But if she objected he might go off her, mightn’t he? And then she wouldn’t have a boyfriend and she’d never get to be normal. So she ignored her annoyance and asked how he knew too about the winding narrow staircase they were hurrying up - too fast for Cassie’s liking - when she’d only been aware of the wide, sweeping staircase before.

“Another lucky guess, what do you reckon?†Kane replied drily.

He, Scotty and a couple of mates had done the place over a few years ago, before the Smiths had moved there. Hadn’t been a bad haul either, he recollected, and they’d managed to offload the goodies pretty fast.

At the top of the stairs were a couple of doors, each leading to a medium-sized bedroom with a double bed, built-in wardrobe and dresser and its own adjoining en suite bathroom. Grinning, Kane pushed open first one door and then the other with a flourish.

“Which one then, babe? We got a choice.â€

The guest bedrooms, rarely used due to there being a couple of larger, more comfortable guest bedrooms at the front of the large house, were always kept well aired and with clean bed linen and soft, fluffy towels neatly folded in the drawers underneath the beds in case of unexpected visitors. Thinking of her own cramped bathroom at home, Cassie caught her breath in awe as she looked round at the en suite bathroom painted in warm peach, with its roomy shower cubicle and power shower, pristine white loo and bidet, wondering what it was like to be mega rich like Hayley, who no doubt took it all for granted.

Like the rest of the students at Summer Bay High, Cassie had no idea that the Smiths were adopted. Will would have been quite open about their past except Hayley had begged him not to tell anyone and Nick, who, fortunately for Hayley because Nick talked too much to keep secrets, had already been “discovered†at his drama school and was on his way to Hollywood within months of moving to the Bay.

She felt the comforting warmth of Kane’s arms enveloping her waist and, despite his breath smelling of beer and tobacco, enjoyed the feeling of his chin burrowing into her left shoulder and his face stubble tickling her cheek. She began to relax. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all. Maybe he would...And then, to her terror, his hands went inside her top and cupped her breasts and he began raining hot, hard kisses on her neck.

Cassie froze. “Stop it! I can’t!†Her voice came out a low, frightened squeak.

It was his turn to break away. “Jee-zus!†He furiously lit a cigarette. “Can’t you make up your ******* mind?â€

A lump came to Cassie’s throat. Why couldn’t he be kinder? It wasn’t her fault. Her only previous sexual experience had been the unwanted advances of her uncle and that was sick and sordid and disgusting.

“I’m fine,†she whispered, turning to face him.

Why was he being like this? He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and sometimes in those eyes she’d even thought she saw a gentler side to him. But those same blue eyes were looking at her so coldly now. Maybe it was her fault after all, for trying his patience, Cassie thought in her usual self-effacing way that would have had Martha blazing.

“You sure this time?†He demanded. “Because if it’s not gonna happen, babe, we both might as well forget it and go ho...â€

“No! I swear. I’m okay now.â€

“I’m not forcing you, darlin’.â€

“I’m fine,†Cassie lied.

She hated it when he said “darlin’†in that sarcastic way. And she was far from fine. She was so scared that she was sure her heart was going to jump out of her body any minute.

“Okay, let’s go for it!â€

She was pathetically grateful that he sounded more cheerful as he stomped his cigarette out on the carpet and pulled her to him and they fell together on the bed. There were fresh-smelling candy striped sheets inside the drawer and a duvet at the bottom of the bed, but Kane Phillips was in too much of a hurry to bother with niceties. He tugged at her clothes and pulled off his own and Cassie flushed as he tore open a small plastic wrapper and she saw the condom.

It was over in minutes.

She closed her eyes and listened to the distant party music and his heavy breaths and grunts and someone outside vomiting. She tried to pretend she didn’t mind the smell of sweat, smoke and alcohol and the weight of his body. But she hated it. Every moment. He gave a long, satisfied sigh as he finished and rolled off her.

When she opened her eyes again he was pulling up his pants and tucking in his shirt.

“Thanks,†he said, leaning over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. And then he was gone, his footsteps running downstairs echoing around the room as she traced the line below her eye where the butterfly kiss still lingered. Burning shame into her.

And after a while Cassie sat up and caught her reflection staring at her from the wardrobe mirror. Her lipstick had smeared making her look like a clown. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were bloodshot with tears. Gulping back a sob, she grabbed her clothes up off the floor and held them to her body to cover her nakedness.

“Slag,†her reflection mouthed.

No moon, no stars, no gentle lapping of the sea or sigh of the breeze. No velvet night or tender kisses lying in the arms of someone who loved her. Oh, no dreams. No dreams anymore. Cassie knelt on the bed, hiding her face in her crumpled clothes and sobbing uncontrollably.

[I love music]

***chapter 16***

Kim dabbed at his cut lip. A bruise had already come up on his left cheekbone and that swollen eye would no doubt be black and blue by tomorrow. He was a sorry sight now and he would be an even sorrier sight by morning. He tossed the bloodied paper tissue into the pedal bin and carefully studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He may look a sorry sight but no way was he sorry about laying into Jack. He was glad he’d told the guy a few home truths. Gypsy had ruined his chances with Hayley. Gypsy was a user. Jack Holden needed to wake up and smell the coffee.

More salty blood trickled into his mouth and impatiently Kim snatched another tissue out of the box on the shelf. To his absolute horror, angry tears stung his eyes. If his Dad could see him now, he’d be disgusted! Barry Hyde believed tears were for women. Kim was an idiot for shedding tears like a girl the day his pet guinea pig died, he said. He was always berating his son for not being strong enough, clever enough, good enough. A bitter memory flashed into Kim’s mind.

“Are you a man or a mouse?” Barry Hyde demanded, his eyes like flint.“That’s even worse than before!”

Praise never came to Barry’s lips. The only thing his son was good at, he conceded, was swimming and lately he hadn’t even been doing that very well.

Kim fought back tears, wiped a hand across his sniffling nose and accidentally gulped water. He was twelve years old. It was five thirty on a chilly Saturday morning and he was tired. Other kids his age were still lounging in bed at this time, not slicing their way through a choppy sea.

The weather was too miserable even for water sport enthusiasts with no wind and only an introspective dull white sky, laden with cloud. Probably it would pick up drastically later - it usually did when the sun broke through around six - but right now the only people on an almost deserted beach were a dog walker and a couple of hardened swimmers.

He wanted to answer “Neither. I’m just a kid! Can’t you see I’m just a kid?” But instead he muttered apologetically, “Sorry, Dad.”

“Let’s try again,” Barry suggested, sighing heavily as he clicked the stopwatch. “Go!”

And, tired though he was, Kim turned and swam out once more, his arms furiously pounding the water as though his very life depended on it. Desperate to please his father. Because he’d give anything, anything to break into that cold reserve.

They were all each other had. He never remembered it being any other way.

Kim had naturally asked about his mother, but Barry Hyde was a closed book. Dead, was all he was told. Tragic accident, was the only response to further questioning; when Kim was old enough he could make his own enquiries, but he himself did not wish to discuss it any further. End of conversation. Shutters down.

Kim often speculated the reason his father was so emotionless must have been because his mother’s death broke his heart. But there were no relatives to deny or confirm his theory. Nobody at all he could ask. Maybe one day his Dad would confide in him. When he was twelve, he hoped that by making him proud through his swimming they’d establish a father/son bond, but, four years on and several swimming trophies later, it still hadn’t happened. These days he was still desperately trying to make his Dad proud of him. But now he had a new tactic.

Normally Barry Hyde liked to move on. Kim had lost count of the number of times they’d upped sticks and packed crates, boxes and suitcases for yet another school in yet another town, as though his father was afraid that staying too long anywhere might turn him into a pillar of salt. But Summer Bay breathed a little magic and captivated him.

Or rather Irene Roberts did.

For the first time in memory, Kim saw his father begin to crack. Suddenly he smiled more, his shoulders were no longer held ex-soldier square but were more relaxed; he still walked with purpose, but with lighter step. One day, without thinking, he actually hugged his son! It was a quick, spontaneous gesture, just after he’d been speaking to Irene on the phone.

Barry coughed. “Irene said yes to the theatre,” he explained, trying to recover his usual stoic equilibrium.

“That’s fantastic!” Kim smiled and his father smiled awkwardly back.

They stood looking at each other, shuffling in embarrassment, neither quite knowing what to say or do next, but a glimmer of hope shone timidly on the horizon.

And then, before it had barely got off the ground, hope crashed and died. Irene and Barry ended their relationship although they remained friends. His father went back into his shell and Kim went back to searching all over again for that elusive chink in his armour. And, amazingly, he found it.

His father did have a weakness: Hayley Smith.

It had been an unguarded moment, during the period when Barry was dating Irene. They were sitting in the Diner when Hayley had come up to explain why there was absolutely no chance of her homework assignment being handed in tomorrow. It was a flimsy excuse and the stern, unbending principal of Summer Bay High normally took no prisoners, but, without a murmur of protest, he agreed to overlook Hayley’s apparent total inability to sit down for an hour or so some time over the weekend and study Australia’s imports and exports.

“That one can wrap you round her little finger,” Irene smiled as she placed their mugs of hot chocolate on the table. “What’s her secret?”

“She looks like Emma. Today’s the anniversary of her death.” Barry’s voice was hoarse with emotion and Kim looked up in astonishment.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Irene placed a consoling hand on Barry’s shoulder.

But Kim could only stare blankly. “Emma? Who’s Emma?”

“Your father’s younger sister who died of leukemia when she was fourteen.” Irene frowned at Kim, obviously thinking him hard-hearted not to have remembered, unaware that until then Kim had never even heard of Emma.

“Dad, I...” He began sympathetically.

“I’d prefer not to talk about it,” Barry replied. Subject closed. Permanently.

But Hayley, Kim noticed, had him eating out of her hand. And suddenly Kim had the answer to all his problems. The way to impress his Dad was by dating Hayley!

Being the son of the principal wasn’t easy. Initially other students were wary of him, clamming up mid conversation and rarely including him in anything. Until they realised nothing ever, ever got back to his father and Kim was a decent enough bloke. Neither clever nor stupid, his only talent being for swimming, he simply fitted in, although his natural shyness and lack of confidence held him back. Girls, Kim reckoned, blissfully unaware of his Greek god status at Summer Bay High, wouldn’t look at him twice and he didn’t blame them.

So, while he’d been busy trying to impress Hayley Smith, he was astonished and flattered when sexy siren Gypsy Nash, the chick all the guys at Summer Bay High talked about how they’d like to score with and boasted about how it was if they already had, showed an interest. No other girl had shown an interest in him before.

Tonight it was though all his Christmases came at once when she whispered in his ear it was time he became a man. She led him upstairs, pushed him gently on to the bed and undressed him slowly, sexily, making him wait. He was putty in her hands.

Blond hair, blue eyes, muscles, fit, he was gorgeous - and a good, considerate lover too, Gypsy told him afterwards, slithering her naked body on top of him, making him think he would die of happiness. She leaned over him, smiling, her elbow propped up on the pillow to rest her chin, her beautiful tousled red hair falling down and tickling his face.

“You’re not a boy anymore,” she drawled, drawing imaginary circles on his chest with her finger. He could only grin up at her like a fool, a song from his Dad’s CD collection playing out in his mind:

*I recall a gypsy woman

silver spangles in her eyes

ivory skin against the moonlight

and the taste of life’s sweet wine...

And then Hayley’s voice suddenly cut into the moment and shattered the illusion.

“Oh, my God! You...you bitch! And, Kim, I thought better of you! I really thought you liked me!”

Gypsy smirked, her face shining with triumph, and it was only then he realised. How could he have been so stupid? He’d been nothing more than a pawn in Gypsy’s game of revenge.

He leapt from the bed, struggling clumsily into his pants, calling after her. He caught up with her on the landing and she turned, dabbing her eyes and sniffing delicately. “Finish with Gypsy. And I might consider going out with you.”

He did what she asked immediately. She couldn’t have failed to hear his ultimatum.

“You used me, Gypsy. You know it and I know it. It’s over.”

Gypsy didn’t bother answering. She had her head bent, brushing her hair and he half suspected she was laughing.

Hayley was waiting where he’d left her, no longer dabbing her eyes.

“I heard. Well done!” she said, before he opened his mouth. “But you think I’d go out with someone who went with that slag?”

He caught hold of her arm. She laughed and shrugged him off. Ignoring amused onlookers who were gathering like vultures to watch, he begged over and over to no avail. Adam Kerr came and put his arm round Hayley’s shoulders and they went off together.

Desperate, he raced back to Gypsy. She was dressing as though nothing had happened. She couldn’t know how important it was to him that he and Hayley became an item. How could he tell her his Dad despised him for being who he was?

“Please, Gyps. Please, please tell her. I wasn’t thinking straight, all that drinking...”

She didn’t even look at him. She was too busy checking her newly-applied lipstick in the mirror, pursing her lips and pouting.

“You think I give two cents about you and Hayley? Maybe you shouldn’t keep your brains in your trousers in future. Now rack off!” She laughed, flicked back her hair, and walked out on him.

Chick or not, some guys would have been incensed enough to run after her and slap the smug smile off her face. Kim wasn’t that kind of guy. No matter what they did, he’d never disrespect a woman.

He sat down on the bed, angry, hurt and humiliated, not caring who saw him now. His Dad was right. He was hopeless. The principal’s son and he was a standing joke, running round in his boxers, pleading, while people sniggered.

After a while he snatched up his clothes and dressed. By the time he returned to the party, Gypsy had already moved on. Jack was her next victim. Stupid, deluded Jack. Refusing to listen to reason when Kim tried to warn him. And look where trying to warn Jack had got him!

His father’s voice was echoing in his memory as it did so often.

“You’re useless, Kim! Can’t you do anything right? For God’s sake, are you a complete idiot?”

He remembered himself, bleary-eyed, eleven or twelve, waking up with a burning throat, longing to snuggle back down under the bedclothes.

“Dad, I don’t wanna go swimming today...”

“Don’t be so pathetic. If I can sacrifice my day off to get up early and coach you, the least you can do is go.”

Tears dimmed his eyes. He splashed some water on his face, furious with himself for crying. Someone hammered on the bathroom door.

“**** off! This isn’t the only bloody bathroom in this mansion!” he yelled in annoyance.

“Kim? It’s Will, mate. You okay?”

Will! Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Will could help him out! Maybe he could salvage something from this disaster after all. Kim almost dragged his friend inside.

“Will, I need for you to put in a good word for me with Hayley and...”

“No way!” Will interrupted vehemently.

Kim stared at him in disbelief. “Come on, man, you know how my Dad is. You know how much of a loser he thinks I am. But he’s got a soft spot for Hayley. She reminds him of his sister or something, who died when she was a kid. And I fancy Hayley, what guy in his right mind wouldn’t? If I got with her, he’d be real impressed.”

“I’m not doing it,” Will insisted.

“Will, I’m begging you here...”

“No.”

“Call yourself a mate? Please, Will, you don’t know what it’s like. You’ve always had everything, all this, handed to you on a plate.” Kim waved his hand expansively and not a little enviously. Will had it all.

Will sighed, wishing he could tell Kim the truth. But Hayley had begged him to never tell anyone of their humble beginnings.

“It’s not a good idea. Hayley likes mind games...”

He stopped, suddenly feeling disloyal towards his kid sister. Whatever Hayley was, and Will was no fool, he was well aware of how vindictive she could be, she adored her older brother. Okay, so sometimes she threw hissy fits and chucked things at him, but afterwards, when Will had calmed her down, she would always whisper an apology. Hastily, condescendingly, like she was doing him a great favour, but Will saw the same neediness in her eyes that had been there when she was only five years old. Desperate to know that the only person in her life who had always been there for her wouldn’t desert her.

“Look, all I’m saying is, Hayles is young for her age. She’s got a lot of growing up to do yet. So I’m not gonna help you get with her. For your own good. And forget Gypsy! Gypsy’s a lowlife. She’d twist the knife and laugh at the same time. I should know!”

Will couldn’t hide his bitterness. He’d fallen for Gypsy and she’d stringed him along, letting him believe she felt the same way. Until she showed herself in her true colours.

On an impulse, he’d bought her a beautiful little expensive gold heart pendant, and, in a sudden rush of romance, had written a short poem telling her how much she meant to him. He knew it wasn’t a very good poem - Will’s literary abilities left a lot to be desired and his essay attempts were a standing joke at Summer Bay High - but he meant every single word. Smiling to himself as he pictured her delight, he placed the note inside the box with the pendant and wrapped it carefully in specially chosen gift wrap decorated with single red roses and tied with red ribbon in a heart-shaped bow. Gypsy seemed thrilled with the gift. She said he was sweet and they kissed passionately and fell together on the bed.

Exactly two days later, he heard what she really thought.

She was sitting on the beach, as usual wearing next to nothing, flirting with and being chatted up by a couple of random guys she’d obviously just met while sunbathing and waiting for Will. She had her back to him, busy reading out mockingly the short poem he’d written with so much love, and as she finished she scrunched up the paper and threw it into her bag and zipped it up, saying she’d only kept it for amusement. And then, as all three laughed together, she went on to tell them what a dipstick he was. He was a poor little rich boy, Gypsy said, who hoped money would buy him love. But she believed in having fun.

She saw him too late. Her eyes widened, but it was hard to read that look in her face. Something more than fear, something more than regret.

“Will...” she said, in a strange kind of choked voice that he’d never heard her use before.

“Don’t bother. Have your fun,” he said shortly, cut to the quick.

White faced with anger, he headed home. Hayley saw him and demanded to know what the matter was and, against his better judgement, he told her because he had to sound off to someone. How he stopped her from going down to the beach there and then and scratching Gypsy’s eyes out he never knew. She had never liked Gypsy, never thought he was good enough for her brother, some long running feud that easygoing Will dismissed as chick stuff and didn’t take much notice of. Well, looked like Hayles had been right all along. Much as he liked Dani, Will would never allow himself to fall in love again. And it was his duty to protect his mates too.

“Play the field. There are heaps of other chicks,” he advised Kim now.

“So you’re saying you won’t help?”

“I’m saying you can do a helluva lot better than Hayley and Gypsy.”

“Well, thanks for nothing! Can’t be bothered helping me warn Jack off Gypsy! Can’t be bothered putting in a good word for me with your sister! Some ******* mate!”

Kim pushed him aside and stormed off. He stood outside, breathing in the cool night air. Was he a fool like his Dad always said? Look what Gypsy had done and yet he even felt guilty for what he’d said to Jack about her. He’d never treat a girl badly. He had respect for them, no matter what they did. So why did Hayley despise him? Did chicks actually prefer b*****ds like Kane Phillips or something? Half the time Phillips spoke to girls like trash, like they were just something to use, and yet both Hayley and Crazy Cassie had tried to hit on him tonight.

He made his way over to a fallen log and sat alone, resting his elbow on his knees, chin in hands, wondering, as so many had wondered before him, what the hell life and love was all about as he gazed dry-eyed at the silent starlight.

*****

Gypsy swallowed. “Thanks. For defending me after what Kim said. But I’m not worth defending. Really.”

She was busy ripping a large leaf that she’d torn off some random plant to shreds. She didn’t know why. It was a habit she’d had ever since she was a kid, snatching at plants that were poking through railings as they passed by gardens or pulling up blades of grass in the park . Her Mum said she was naturally destructive. Maybe she was. Why had she destroyed Kim as well as Hayley? Hayley needed putting in her place, but poor Kim had just been caught in the crossfire. And yet she’d targeted him and made him suffer too.

“Why would you think that you’re not worth defending?”

Jack’s hand brushed hers and she almost wept to see the concern in his face. She didn’t deserve kindness. She looked down, partly because she was still feeling the effects of too much alcohol, partly because she couldn’t bear him being so nice after everything she’d done.

“You know what they say, Jack,” she muttered. “I’m the school bike. Gypsy Nash. Slag. And it’s true.”

“I sleep around and get called a stud. A chick sleeps around gets called a slag. How’s that fair?”

Gypsy looked up and bit her lip. “You’re a nice guy, Jack Holden.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Gypsy Nash.”

They smiled. He took hold of both her hands and for several moments they looked into each other’s eyes. Jack leaned forward and Gypsy tilted her head towards him. For the first time since either could remember, the kiss wasn’t a cold, emotionless act or a prelude to sex. It was a kiss between two friends who genuinely wanted to show they cared. Like a first ever kiss, like a first ever love. Slow and gentle, shy and uncertain, tender and warm as the gentle breath of the summer night, afterwards leaning against each other in silent companionship.

“I sleep around because I don’t like me. I feel I’m not worth liking,” Gypsy confided at last in a whisper, leaning against his chest, feeling a comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I sleep around because I won’t let myself trust anyone. Maybe it’s me I don’t trust,” Jack whispered back. “What a couple of dorks, hey? I want Martha, you want Will and neither of them wants to know. Makes you think, if we can’t be with the one we want, we could do a lot worse than the one who understands.”

“Agreed.”

“So...” Jack hesitated as an idea suddenly came to him, uncharacteristically hoping he wasn’t being too forward. “Why don’t we become an item? I mean, if...if you you’d like to, that is.”

Gypsy dropped her gaze, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically bashful. “Are you serious? I’d like it, heaps, but...with me? The school bike? Are you sure you’d want to?”

“Stop bagging yourself out. You’re not the school bike, you’re the school stud. I’m the school bike. Are you sure you’d want to be with me?”

Gypsy laughed. “Deal!”

“Deal!” Jack echoed, kissing her forehead and holding her tight. The rain had finally ceased and as the grey clouds slid sulkily away towards the sea more and more stars began to dance and twinkle through the darkness.

They watched them together, dreaming dreams, warm in each other’s arms.

*I Recall a Gypsy Woman © Bob McDill/Allen Reynolds

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thanks to Kat for all her brilliant ideas and suggestions for this chapter. I hope to get back to work on The Haunted for a while now before returning to SBH again, but have huge problems with the flat and staying with relatives so won’t have as much time as I’d like for writing or even being online so could be a while before updates.

[I love music]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Okay, guys, another looong chapter! And once again special thanks to Kat for her great ideas and suggestions.

***chapter 17***

Get. This. Into. Your. Thick. Head. You. Are. Alone. You. Always. Will. Be.

Cassie deliberately spelled it out in her head because she was obviously too stupid to understand. She had to be all cried out now. Her eyes were bloodshot, her throat was sore and her nose was red from too much blowing. The neat little bin in the pristine, peach-painted bathroom was filled with crumpled sheets of toilet paper because nearly a whole loo roll had gone on drying her eyes before she realised there was a box of tissues.

But Cassie expected things like that from herself. She was stupid.

She wiped a hand across her face and shower gel out of her eyes (See? Stupid!) and felt powerful jets of hot water rain down on her body yet again. She began scrubbing herself feverishly, arguing inside her head.

I’m not stupid though...

Oh, yeh? Why’d you let your uncle and Kane do what they did then?

I didn’t exactly LET them...

I seem to remember you invited Kane...

Stop it, Cassie, stop it!

She forced herself to draw a deep breath, turned the dial to off, slid open the cubicle door and wrapped herself in the fluffy white bathrobe provided. Surely she’d be clean this time? Surely she wouldn’t feel again the searing heat of his body on hers, of his hands touching her where she hadn’t wanted to be touched? If she waited long enough...?

But she had only reached the door leading back into the bedroom before she was overcome all over again by shuddering sobs. She leaned shakily against the pristine white doorframe, looking down at the tear-misted patterns on the carpet, wondering what it was like not to be an object for men to use. What it was like to be truly loved. To know the magic of strolling hand in hand along a sun-kissed beach or to have someone special wrap his arms around her and tell her how much he loved her.

And just to remind her that she had no right and no place in that kind of world, she rubbed her wrist over and over and over the corner of the door frame, until she drew blood and pain, but serve her right, serve her right for thinking she did.

And for couples and lovers, but not for Cassie, there were moonlight shadows and stars sparkling like diamonds, there were moonlight shadows to carry home dreams.

*****

“Dani, just give me a chance to explain...please...”

Will couldn’t believe he was pleading with this girl after everything he’d just told Kim. What was so special about her anyway? Okay, she was hot and he’d give anything to...But, well, something else.

Gypsy and Dani were so alike and yet so different. Both were confident, sexy red-heads with stunning figures and yet there was something about Dani that Gypsy didn’t have. Something that made him think maybe one day they could even be more than lov...Oh, no, you ain’t gonna go down that road, mate! A chick is a chick is a chick. Play the field, like you told Kim.

He bit his lip. He wasn’t going to bother pleading anymore. If Dani wanted to see him, fine. If she didn’t, tough. He was no door mat. He deserved better than to be treated like trash. He couldn’t believe he’d been fool enough to forgive Gypsy so many times before.

After a huge row about it, she had promised faithfully, close to tears, that she’d never, ever flirt with Jack Holden again and Will had been fool enough to buy it. They’d got it on at Hayley’s last party, laughing together at his kid sister’s choice of prissy pop tunes, comfortable together as their bodies intimately entwined as one in the heat of the night.

But Gypsy just couldn’t help herself.

Morals of an alley cat, Hayley said snobbishly, as though she herself had never so much as kissed a boy, the day he’d rashly told her about his girlfriend flaunting her half-naked body at the two guys she’d just met on the beach and mocking the poem he’d written. Even Will, the most laid back bloke in the history of the world as his adoptive father often remarked, had finally had enough. They were over, he told her. Forever.

For all her earlier tears, his ultimatum didn’t seem to bother Gypsy too much. The very next day he saw her throwing herself at Jack Holden.

“Well, I just might forgive you for keeping me waiting like this,” Dani said, seemingly unaware of how beautiful she looked, slinging the strap of her small designer handbag over her shoulder with the bored air of a starlet who’d just reached the end of an obligatory photo shoot with some glossy magazine. “If you walk me home. And if you’re very, very sorry and you don’t forget I’m a lady and I expect to be treated like a lady.”

She looked up at him from lowered lids and gave that huge, teasing Dani smile that was to die for. And in a blinding flash, Will suddenly knew the difference between his new chick and his ex.

Gypsy would have been tearing off her clothes soon as they got round the corner and while that was every guy’s dream it did kind of spoil the moment. Not Dani though. She’d make guys wait, beg, even kill for her. Because Dani Sutherland had class. Pure, pure class.

*****

Of course Martha was aware of what she was doing. Well, very, very vaguely.

It would help if people didn’t keep coming in and out of focus and somebody steadied the floor. Then she wouldn’t keep swaying and having to hold on to the sink while filling the large bucket with cold water.

“Thirsty?” David Molyneaux asked in amusement. He’d been shadowing her, trying to chat her up all night, seemingly oblivious of the fact that she’d continually blanked him.

Martha gave him a look as she turned off the tap. “You are so not funny. You are so not clever. And you are very, very tall,” she replied, with the confused stream of drink-befuddled thoughts. David Molyneaux was an ace basketball player with an amateur team and the tallest student in Summer Bay High.

“Ah, but my mum loves me,” David grinned. “You need some help?” He added, his grin growing broader as she looked towards the vast grounds of the Smith’s grand residence and dubiously back at the bucket.

.

“No, thank you! I grew up on a farm and ate three brothers for breakfast every single day,” Martha said mysteriously, determinedly heaving the bucket out of the sink and sloshing water over herself in the process.

David wiped laughter tears from the corner of his eye. “Well, you know, if you change your mind...Who’s going to be the lucky recipient then, Mac? As if I didn’t know!”

“Hrr’mmph!” Martha retorted dismissively, staggering her way across the moving floor.

Only three-quarters of the water was left in the bucket by the time she got outside. But it would be enough for what she had in mind.

And there they were. Waiting. Gypsy’s head was resting on the shoulder of her Jack and her Jack was holding her tight, stroking her long flame-coloured hair and curling it lovingly round his fingers. And how dare he!

Oh, that delicious moment when the water left the bucket and their astonished faces and screams! Martha only wished she could have freeze-framed it.

“Get a room!” She yelled. “Go on, get a room!”

“Go, Mac! Go, Mac! Go, Mac!” Someone began the chants and the accompanying hand-claps after the initial laughter and cheering and others quickly followed suit.

“You cow...”

A soaking wet Gypsy was coming towards her like a madwoman, hair bedraggled, eyes wild, though a soaking wet Jack (was it Martha’s imagination or did he look even more sexy when his face and hair were shining with water?) was trying to pull her back.

David Molyneaux, still sober enough to enjoy the entertainment, pacing himself with his drinking because of the big game he was due to play in next day, ripped open a can of lager and downed a large gulp. This was turning into the party of the century. Crazy Cassie throwing a hissy fit over Adam Kerr, Kim Hyde running round the landing in boxers and now a drunken, fiery, beautiful Martha McKenzie trying to drown two of her classmates and the prospect of a catfight. You’d pay megabucks to see it.

But Gypsy was to be cheated of her revenge. Martha gave a pleased but puzzled smile at the chanting and then collapsed in a drunken heap on the grass. The last thing she remembered - very, very vaguely - was Jack running towards her.

Everybody did. Even Jack.

Jack, who just a few moments ago had been telling her how special she was. And Kim. Kim had barely glanced at her when he’d strolled over to see what all the noise was about. Gypsy had no doubt had Will been there he would have been part of the concerned group gathered round Martha too. Because everybody loved Martha. Gypsy didn’t count.

She clasped her legs and drew her knees up to her chin, not caring that she was drenched through. It was cold, so cold, huddled all alone on the grass.

*****

At last! Rhys put down the stress ball he’d been clenching and unclenching in his hand almost in rhythm with the unconscious clenching of his teeth. Crashing down pots and pans had been far more satisfying but Shelley had strongly objected.

“Rhys! What on earth are you doing?”

“Making a stew for tomorrow.” Rhys was busy taking his aggression out on some blameless carrots who were being furiously hacked to death on the chopping tray.

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Of course I know...Owww!” Rhys yelped in pain, as, in the act of turning to his wife, he missed the carrot and cut his finger with the vegetable knife. “Of course I know what time it is. The question is, does she?” he added, lowering his voice when Shelley gestured for him to keep the noise down.

“We can’t wrap the kids in cotton wool forever. Dani’s a big girl now,” Shelley reasoned. “Don’t forget, we were that age once too.”

“That’s what worries me,” Rhys admitted wryly, running cold water on his injured finger.

Watching rich, dark red blood running down the plughole was strangely calming. Maybe it was the same kind of relief patients felt in olden times when their doctors placed leeches on them to draw blood - or maybe it was simply because he felt ready to kill. If some boy was carrying on with his precious, beautiful eldest daughter the way he’d carried on with Shelley...

But that was different, he told himself. He’d loved Shelley and there was no way any boy in Summer Bay could love Dani.

They’d only been in this town five minutes, for Crissakes, and, while it was great she was being invited out to parties so soon, he’d set clear ground rules about what time she was to be in. If they weren’t adhered to now, the twins, who, thank God, weren’t quite old enough to be out dating yet, would flout every rule in the book as soon as they were old enough. It was for their own protection. By God, he was going to get tough even if he had to have all three electronically tagged!

“Here.”

Shelley pressed down on the draining board the yellow stress ball with the cute smiley face painted on it that, because they hadn’t liked to leave empty-handed, they’d bought last year in some quirky little shop that only sold items like swear boxes and coin sorters. “It just might work. Better than waking the whole neighbourhood anyway. Calm down. Put your headphones on, listen to some classical music. I’m going back to bed. Dani’s got a good head on her shoulders and I trust her. Oh, and, Rhys, before you ask, band-aids, first aid box, cupboard under the sink.”

Half an hour later Rhys was still squeezing the stress ball, still listening to Mantovani classics and still fuming when finally, above the muted music, he heard voices.

The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen outside of movies and she was in his arms, Will thought, hardly able to believe his luck. They had broken reluctantly away from each other, no longer pashing, but still holding each other tight. Dani’s eyes were dancing and she was smiling that incredible sexy smile that made him go weak at the knees and feel he’d do anything for her.

“So...” Dani said.

“So...” Will grinned back, enjoying the slow moment as much as she was.

They were studying Romeo and Juliet in English and Miss Fletcher had been trying to explain to them the meaning of “parting is such sweet sorrow", but it didn’t make sense till now. Jeez, ths Shakespeare bloke had it sussed alright!

Lost in each other, they both jumped sky high as the door burst open and Rhys Sutherland demanded, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Dad!” Dani was mortified. “Do you mind? I’m saying goodnight to my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend! Boyfriend?” Rhys was boiling with rage and in full flow. Above the porch, curtains were being twitched as the twins watched, enthralled. “I know exactly what this guy’s after. I saw where his hands were...

“What?!” Will spluttered at the unjustified accusation.

“You think I came down in the last shower?”

Will swallowed. Deep breaths, deep breaths. That was what a previous girlfriend had advised anyway. Lorna had been very much into alternative health, all that meditation and relaxing colours and stuff. Unfortunately, her dad had taken things the wrong way too, when he’d caught her giving a shirtless Will a back massage with essential oils, even though it had all been very, very innocent. Well, sort of.

Will did not do angry parents very well. His mind turned to jelly at the sight of them.

“Mr Sutherland,” he said, launching into defence mode too soon on the deep breath, which made his tone of voice sound like he was patronising Dani’s dad. “I have every respect for your daughter. Dani is totally hot with me...”

No, no, no, no, NO, NO! What made him say that? Freudian slip! He’d meant to say “Dani is totally SAFE with me.”

Too late! Rhys had grabbed him by collar and pinned him against the wall, Dani was looking horrified and rumbling and shuffling and window opening from above suggested that Dani’s twin kid sisters, of whom everyone was vaguely aware but not taking much notice of, were trying to get a better view because the front porch was directly under the window and the porch roof was in the way.

“Will everybody please calm down? Rhys!” Shelley had long been the only person who could ever get Rhys to do just that. Glaring at Will, he reluctantly loosened his grip. “I think it’s best if you go home.” She added, turning to Will, who was soothing his hurt neck. “And you go to bed, young lady.”

“But, Mum!” Dani protested.

“We’ll all talk tomorrow when everyone’s had time to cool down. Okay?”

“That mongrel...” Rhys began.

“We’ll talk tomorrow. I suggest you...” She raised her eyebrows at Will questioningly, not knowing his name.

“Will,” Will supplied.

"Thank you. I suggest, Will, you ring the caravan site number tomorrow around ten thirty and - IF my daughter still wants to see you - we’ll arrange a family meeting,” Shelley said firmly, boding no argument. She raised her voice. “Kirsty! Jade! If you two aren’t in bed in five minutes you’re grounded for the week!”

Thudding footsteps from above suggested that Kirsty and Jade had either found a better vantage point or heeded the warning. Will had to hand it to Dani’s Mum. Within seconds everybody obeyed instructions. He and Dani exchanged a look, he with a half apologetic smile, Dani with tear-dimmed eyes, pink cheeks and a gentle sniff that melted his heart. Nearly.

No, don’t do this, mate. You are NOT going to let ANY chick tear out your heart and trample it into the ground the way Gypsy did.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation Will actually found time to be impressed by the almost poetic image. Maybe his English grades, currently in danger of sinking without trace, would learn to swim. Wow! Another awesome description from Will Smith (and, no, not the rap star, but someone almost as good) there was no stopping him now!

Rhys Sutherland’s thunderous glare brought him back down to earth with a crashing bump and made him realise he’d been grinning. Aw, Jeez! No point in trying to explain he’d actually been thinking about grades, this dude was seriously gunning for him.

Dani’s psycho father gave a twisted smile and slammed the door in his face. But not before Will knew he’d been right not to fall for the helpless female act. That flash in Dani’s eyes just before the door slammed shut. She’d been thoroughly enjoying starring in this little drama.

*****

He’d do as someone to lean on so that she could walk off with head held high. Hayley had no intention of sleeping with Adam Kerr but she badly needed an ego boost after Gypsy had bedded Kim and Adam had been hoping for ages.

Blond and blue-eyed, he was incredibly handsome in a pretty boy kind of way and, coming from a well-to-do family, he spoke in the right kind of way. They had a lot in common. Both of them despised losers and admired money, style and taste. In Hayley’s shallow Barbie world, that should have been enough. But she always backed off the moment he got too close.

“I like you as a friend, Adam,” she pouted. “Don’t let’s spoil our friendship.”

“Tease,” he said, running his finger down her arm, talking to her cleavage.

Hayley giggled and gently pushed him away. They’d had this conversation heaps of times before. Adam gave a slow grin, lifted his gaze to her eyes and mouthed a less flattering description. Hayley pushed him away again, using far more force this time, and burning with anger. She’d had enough of guys thinking they could take liberties tonight.

“That’s sick! That’s the sort of foul-mouthed thing I’d expect from that maggot Kane Phillips, not you. You think you can call me whatever you like just because we’ve known each other forever.”

“Hayles! Hayles, I’m sorry! I was only joking!” Adam realised too late he’d pushed his luck and desperately sought to recover lost ground. He’d never get another chance as good as this.

Hayley had had to make her exit look good and the main landing was crowded with spectators of the Kim show so she had led him instead to a couple of en suite guest rooms at the back of the huge house. Adam hadn’t even known the area existed. He was pretty sure none of the other party guests did either.

So they were all alone and the girl he fancied the pants off had been drinking, which meant she was being OTT flirty and giggly, and not quite as much in control as the ice queen normally was. Adam had been sure tonight was his night, but now he’d blown his chances and Hayley was pulling her usual stunt and beginning to edge her way back down the narrow stairway.

And then Adam’s luck suddenly changed.

A muffled sobbing made them both stop dead. Hayley gave a small scream of fear and grabbed both his arms, her pale blue eyes wide with terror.

“It’s her!” She gulped.

“Who?” Adam asked, baffled, but delighted she was clinging to him.

“Will says The River Restaurant is haunted by the ghost of a grey lady who comes out of the river weeping.” Hayley’s words ran breathlessly into each other.

“Hayles! You’re so cute!” Adam laughed, drawing her closer and stroking her back. Stuff ghost stories and long abandoned, cobweb-strewn restaurants. He’d stake money on the room being occupied by a couple of wandering partygoers who’d accidentally stumbled on the hidden area. And now that they’d come this far, he was determined to persuade Hayley to go even further in more ways than one. “There are no such things as ghosts. Come on, babe, I’ll prove it to you.”

“I can’t! I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. I’ll protect you.” Adam wrapped his arm firmly round her waist, knocked lightly on the door a couple of times and, without giving anyone time to answer, pushed it open.

Startled, Cassie jerked her head upwards. She looked a sight. She didn’t need their expressions to tell her that. Hayley’s disgust and Adam Kerr’s smirk. She didn’t need that to tell her what she already knew.

Rocking herself to and fro, Crazy Cassie sat on the bed on the very edge of the mattress, wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe that was way too big for her, her hair soaking wet, her clothes thrown across the floor, her arms folded across her body to hug her shoulders, her long, bare legs curled around each other, as though she were practising some peculiar yoga position.

“Oh...myyy...God...” Glad of an excuse to put Adam off and relieved it was no ghost, Hayley looked sneeringly at the discarded clothing and frowned at the blood streaks on the door frame. Her eyes finally lighted on the used condom tossed on the floor and back on Cassie herself. “You filthy, filthy slag. Waiting for your next client?”

Adam Kerr gasped audibly. Hayley’s needle-sharp cruelty shocked even Cassie, who’s zero self esteem meant she thought she deserved everything life threw at her, and she stared wordlessly back at her so-called friend.

“Who was the lucky guy then?” Adam grinned, with a ham-fisted attempt at humour.

Cassie didn’t think she was important enough to tell him to mind his own business.

“K...K...Kane Phillips,” she replied. “But I...I didn’t want to....I d-didn’t want to...” Poor Cassie broke down.

“Are you saying...?” Hayley had felt a little uncomfortable when Cassie had stared at her like that. She didn’t know why. But an idea was forming in her mind. She stooped down and placed her hands on her friend’s knees.

“I didn’t want to,” Cassie repeated, grasping Hayley’s hands, and shaking her dark head, sobbing. “I didn’t want to. You’ve got to believe me.”

Hayley’s heat raced as the idea began to take solid shape.

“Oh, I get it. You like to play games. Well, me too, babe.”

“Let go of me, Kane. You’re hurting.”

But he didn’t let go. He grinned. A slow, sarcastic grin. And his grip on her arm tightened.

“Don’t play with fire, darlin’.”

“I...I...Let me go. Please.” Hayley’s voice was a whisper. Tears misted her eyes and spilled down her cheeks unchecked.

He grinned mockingly. So close that his gaze burrowed into her skin and his words brushed like sandpaper against her face. “‘Didn’t Mummy and Daddy ever tell their little princess that kiddies who play with fire get burned?”

So Kane Phillips thought he could cross Hayley Smith? Thought she’d be so grateful that he finally let her go that she’d never breathe a word to anyone?

She had no idea what had gone on between Phillips and Crazy Cassie and she didn’t particularly care. Cassie was loopy enough to have stripped naked and danced round him in the rain.

Oh, but she did care about Hayley! She did care that she hadn’t had her revenge.

Yet.

“I believe you, Cass,” she said, “after what happened to me tonight. But I was luckier than you. I managed to get away. Kane Phillips tried to rape me...”

[I love music]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: With special thanks to Kat (SkyKat) for all her help, ideas and suggestions .

***chapter 18***

When he began sobering up in the fresh night air, he found himself in the grounds of the hospital.

It was an abysmally depressing place, every red brick seeming as though it had been tainted and haunted by memories. Back windows of the ugly Victorian building overlooked a busy road, where the only break in the drab greyness of the built-up area stood on the traffic island: a graffiti-daubed giant sculpture of a multi-coloured caterpillar, a throwback, peculiar to its time, to some 1970s college-funded art project, meant to remind motorists to watch their speed, and which a ceaseless stream of cars and trucks swished past without a second glance.

Two arched pillars paradoxically located at the side of the building led to the main entrance, above which a small brass plaque informed all that Alderman George Bishop had performed the opening ceremony here on September 4th 1889. Of course back then the hospital would have been more isolated and noises more muffled: only the steady clip-clop of hooves and the metallic roll of wagon wheels on cobblestone; the shout of a tradesman or the jangle of some passing tram rippling through into the faceless wards.

But an oasis of calm still descended at its opposite side: large gardens that caught the afternoon sun, leafy trees and neatly clipped shrubbery, carefully cultivated flowers and neat lawns, each winding path marked by one or two green wooden benches, and the centrepiece a beautiful marble fountain, again, according to a plaque, marked by the presence of the ubiquitous Alderman George Bishop on 4th September 1889, where by day marble fish gushed sun-sparkled water from ever open mouths.

But even here too the ugly red-brick made its appearance, high, forbidding walls surrounding the gardens, giving a clue to what was hidden away inside. By night an eerie silver glow coated the presently immobile fountain and the silent grounds echoed only to the constant thunder of traffic in the near distance. By night the breeze stirred, rustling the leaves of the trees in gentle whispers, waking them to the beauty of their solitude.

He liked the solitude and the night. Knowing she would be free for a little while from the demons of her mind, cloaked in the quiet warmth of sleep. He wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye with his thumb, amazed and embarrassed that recollections of his childhood still held power enough to make him cry.

He thrust his hands deep into his jeans pockets, and with his head down to hide the tears no one else could see, began walking down the familiar path. An alarm deterred intruders but he’d known from when he was eight or nine years old exactly where to walk to avoid the sensor and the cops. Kane Phillips hated cops. Funny thing, it was one of his few friends, Jack Holden’s ambition to be a cop. He’d never figure out why. Holden was decent bloke, never blanked him or looked down his nose like many of the students at Summer Bay High did and many more would have done if they’d dared.

There was a rumour Holden planned to get it on with every girl in their year. He’d seen him getting up close and personal with Gypsy Nash tonight and admired him for it. He’d made out with Gypsy himself and it was to be highly recommended.

He turned his attention back to dodging the sensor. All the local kids had known of the blind spots. All the local kids came then to play in “Loonie Park” and a few, if they could dodge security, to shout taunts at the loonies who lived there.

They still did.

He and Scotty had done it often enough themselves when they were younger, even while uncomfortably aware all was not quite right with their own Mum. At the back of their minds they had always known she would end up here. In the Rowan House Residential Centre or, as the signpost used to read in the days before political correctness, Summer Bay Mental Asylum for Lunatics and Imbeciles. No doubt Crazy Cassie would end up here one day too. Shame. Waste of a hot chick.

He stopped to gaze up at a window on the third floor. Riversdale Ward. His mother’s home.

Like all the wards, fancifully named by some anonymous bureaucrat after Summer Bay beauty spots, and painted with magnolia walls and pale pink doors, some now converted into several small, comfortable rooms for long-stay patients. But at least nowadays they were treated more humanely: there were twice-weekly art and pottery classes; a small gym and games room and a well-stocked library; even dances held in the recreation hall shared by both staff and patients. He wondered if she was ever well enough to attend the dances. She liked music. When he was very small, she would sometimes break off from some chore and singing along to the radio pull him and Scotty into a dance. And then one day his father had arrived home unexpectedly, smashed the radio against the wall, and beaten her to a pulp while he and Scott trembled under the kitchen table. There was no more dancing after that.

He spun round, suddenly aware that the sirens that had been playing out somewhere faraway were ear-splittingly close. What the **** was he thinking of, letting his guard down like that? The combination of the police car’s flashing lights and the powerful beam of a torch almost blinded him as from behind the cuffs were clamped on to his wrists.

“So we meet again, Phillips,” the pig brandishing the torch gave a slow, sneering grin. “Well, well, isn’t this our lucky day? We get a call to say Rowan House’s brand new super duper de-luxe camera has picked up a suspected peeping tom outside the female wing of the nut-house and here you are, drunk and disorderly, using an illegal substance, trespass with intent to cause criminal damage... I’ve been waiting to nail you for a long time and you just couldn’t wait to fall into my ever loving arms.” He snorted at his own wit.

Kane struggled ineffectually as they both held him, furious with himself for being caught off guard and at the trumped-up charges. And he was taking a stab in the dark at the illegal substance accusation; his pupils wouldn’t even have dilated after smoking one lousy joint.

“You can go ****, you stupid, fat jer...”

“Best if you just get in the car, son, and we can discuss things at the station,” the cop who’d snapped on the bracelets on him cut in. He didn’t seem as bad as his colleague or to even to like him. “You get to choose how fast or how slow we get there but resisting arrest is never a good move and usually slows everybody down.”

But he wasn’t given any choice at all as he was bundled into the police car.

*****

“I want Martha. Get Martha. Please get Martha. Please, please, please get Martha.” Cassie whimpered. She knew she sounded pathetic. She knew her friend must despise her for whining, but she couldn’t help it.

Adam had wanted to call the cops but Hayley instructed him to wait outside and to say nothing to no one. She was a hundred per cent certain she didn’t want police involved. She had watched enough TV shows to know the procedure. They took samples, did medical examinations. She didn’t want all that. Even if he hadn’t let her go, even if he’d...she shuddered...gone all the way, she still couldn’t face the intimate questioning to prove or disprove the charge.

With uncharacteristic sensitivity, she was sitting on the bed beside Cassie, with her arm round her shoulders. But Cassie wasn’t entirely sure she trusted her. It was a horrible way to be especially as Hayley was being so nice and patient with her and poor Hayley had been attacked. Poor Hayley didn’t deserve that. Cassie had brought it all on herself but poor Hayley hadn’t.

“He’s a total, total sicko and very, very dangerous,” Hayley was saying. “The fact he attacked you too proves that Kane Phillips would attack anyone, no matter how ugly, and not just someone beautiful or someone not wearing much.”

Cassie shivered. The barb stung and she couldn’t understand why Hayley wanted to wound her when she was already hurt. She looked at her friend, her eyes wide. “But what difference does it make how a girl looks or what she is or isn’t wearing? We shouldn’t have to defend our actions and make excuses for guys. We shouldn’t have to.”

“N-o.” Hayley bit her lip, uncomfortably aware that Cassie was right but not liking to be corrected especially by a dag. “It’s okay. I’ll ring Big Mac.”

What was it with her? No matter what, she still had to get the digs in. Sometimes she didn’t understand herself. Adam had called Martha Big Mac, which she was far from being, as a joke when they’d been in MacDonald’s once and Hayley had realised, by the flash in Mac’s eyes, that she hated the nickname so, making like she said it in fun, she had called her Big Mac at every opportunity afterwards.

“Martha doesn’t like being...” Cassie began.

“I know, I know. I didn’t think.” Hayley impatiently cut her short. God, it was like dealing with a child and anyway it annoyed her, the way Cassie and Martha always sprang to each other’s defence. She took her mobile out of her handbag, ready to jab in Martha’s number but stopped. It wasn’t her phone. She wouldn’t have been seen dead with this clumsy outdated brick. It was...

“Everything okay?” Adam pushed the door open, which annoyed Hayley even more. She’d told him to wait. And she didn’t like the way he kept looking at Cassie. Not that she wanted it at this moment, but Hayley was used to getting all the attention.

“I want Martha.” Cassie pulled the bathrobe tighter round herself and stared down at the fluffy throwaway bath slippers that had also been provided in the luxurious bathroom. Adam always made her feel uneasy.

“You’d better get her,” Hayley sighed impatiently. “My phone needs recharging,” she lied, as she threw it on the bed. She remembered snatching up her dropped bag and phone as she ran away from Kane Phillips and his smirk as he pocketed his own. Except they must have both picked up the wrong one. To think she’d had his phone all this time and she hadn’t even realised. The thought made her want to throw up. It was like he was still around, still breathing his terrifying hot breaths on her neck.

“Well, go on!” She demanded imperiously because Adam was still standing there as if taking in the situation.

“I’ll be right. I just want Martha.” Cassie hiccuped back a sob, acutely aware she was being a terrible nuisance. She also wanted to get back into the shower but she didn’t dare say so.

*****

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Gypsy smiled up at Kit.

They’d never exactly been friends - Gypsy didn’t do girlfriends and, after being ostracised over her alcohol addiction by nearly the whole female population of Summer Bay High led by Hayley, Kit had become completely self-sufficient - but a mutual dislike of Hayley and her prissy pretentious preening bonded them. Especially since Hayley had made it clear she considered Will way, way too good for slags like Gypsy Nash and told her so. Big mistake. Kit already owed her for constantly bagging her out over her drink problem.

Alone, each had been a formidable force. Together they were dynamite.

As Kit confided in Gypsy, blonde bimbo Hayley had just better hope for her own sake that she never again went on another binge drinking session. She wouldn’t trust herself not to kill her.

“So...how are you?”

“Wet,” Gypsy shivered, gratefully accepting the proffered towel and drying her face.

“Right.” Kit nodded as she sat down beside her, and grimaced as the rain-soaked grass seeped through her clothes. “Well, me too now. Thanks, mate.”

Kit’s tone boded no malice. Even though she’d known from Noah’s expression earlier tonight that she looked a million dollars out of her usual jeans and trainers and in her sexy new outfit, she was genuinely unfazed by the ruined skirt. She’d been in worse situations back when she would lose whole days, even weeks, out of her life by going on benders. Once - having covered her tracks by telling her parents she was staying at a friend’s - she’d woken forty-eight hours later in the derelict building that she’d hidden out in, filthy and with drink spilled all down her front, and discovered, to her horror and humiliation, not only had her hair been dipping in her own vomit but that she’d wet herself .

“No worries,” Gypsy replied, vigorously rubbing her head with the towel. “Any time.”

They caught each other’s eye and burst out laughing.

“Noah’s gone to get the drinks. I thought you could use one.” Kit added. “By the way, you missed all the fun. I locked Queen Piranha in the bathroom. She had to spend a good ten minutes in there while I told her exactly what I thought. Spoilsport Noah let her out. Before I’d persuaded her to use the razor unfortunately. Can you believe the bitch tried to hit on him again tonight?”

“No way!” Gypsy exclaimed. “What a cow!”

“So...” Kit leaned back and lit a cigarette, offering the packet to Gypsy who shook her head. “Where were you when Hayley got payback?” She grinned. For both, getting back at Hayley Smith was more than a bitchy past-time. It was a full-blown career.

“Not sure. It could’ve been when Jack and me were having a heart-to-heart...”

Gypsy glanced briefly across at the Martha fan-club and felt a shudder of loneliness. Who needed people anyway? Who needed guys like Jack Holden who kissed you like it meant something and then ran back to their ex? Or guys like Will Smith who only had to look at you to break your heart? Didn’t he understand she only did what she did to protect him? To stop him getting hurt? She wasn’t worth him falling in love with her...was she?

But she was beginning to recover her usual outward composure. She tossed back her fiery red hair and licked her lips airily. “Or it could’ve been when I was busy bedding Kim.”

Kit almost choked in the middle of smoking the cigarette. Everybody knew Kim was making a play for Hayley and that Hayley was treating him like a lovesick puppy that she could dangle on the end of a string.

“Way to go, Gyps!” She high-fived.

“Way to go yourself, Kit Hunter!” Gypsy returned the hand slap in equal admiration.

“What’ve I missed?” Noah asked warily, returning with two glasses.

“Girl talk.” Kit took the non-alcoholic orange juice from him. She give anything for a proper drink, but she didn’t dare risk it. Even one would be enough to send her sliding back down into the gutter.

“That means keep out of it, Noah Lawson.”

Noah grinned at Kit, his eyes shining as they always did when he looked at her. Totally smitten, Gypsy thought, and for some reason felt another wave of loneliness wash over her.

“It sure does. Mind that!” Kit jumped up, tapped his nose and kissed him. She whispered something in his ear that made him smile and then turned back to Gypsy. “C’mon, Gyps, let’s get you indoors to dry off. What’s the story between you and Jacky boy then? It’s not like Mac to throw buckets of water over people.”

“No story.” Gypsy said nonchalantly, taking another sip of her vodka and orange and deciding to leave it where it was, feeling slightly better and not so alone as they linked her arms. “No story at all.”

There just might have been, the thought echoed sadly through her mind.

*****

“So what exactly are you doing with a girly phone? Kept it as a memento, did we?”

Officer Joe Briscoe stood with one foot on the chair opposite, towering over the suspect to intimidate, and turning the delicate pink mobile phone with the Barbie Girl ring tone over in his large hands. Summer Bay was a small station, so newly built that some parts still smelt of paint, and offenders no longer had to be ferried back and forth to the larger station at Yabbie Creek. Legal procedures were being blatantly ignored but nobody cared very much.

The desk sergeant carried on filling out paperwork, a couple of the guys brought in a noisy drunk to throw in the cells for the night and everyone turned a blind eye to the aggressive questioning going on in the waiting area. With anyone else it would have been different but not with the Phillipses. As far as the law enforcement officers in Summer Bay and beyond were concerned, the sooner the Phillips family were all behind bars, or better still dead, the better.

Kane Phillips bit back a sarcastic comment about suddenly discovering he was gay. The guy was deliberately trying to wind him up and provoke him into something more so he could throw the book at him. And in the clearer light of the police station he understood why.

He recognised him now from the photo in the papers during the court case. He’d been cornered a few years ago in a Yabbie Creek alley by Mr Phillips senior and a couple of others and so badly beaten that the judge commented it was only the fortunate intervention of an ambulance crew that saved his life. Richie "Gus" Phillips had been the main antagonist, using a sickeningly unnecessary level of violence even though the man was already out cold. He had gone down a long time for that stunt. It would have been even longer except the evidence he was pimping turned out to be too flimsy to stand up in court. The pros sported black eyes and bruises but were too frightened to talk.

Joe had a daughter, grown up now, who’d run away from home after a family row when she was thirteen. She’d only been missing for one night before being found sleeping rough but it was the very same night some other poor kid, only a couple of years older, had been brutally attacked in nearby Mango River.

Richie Phillips, or Gap-Tooth Gus as the working girls knew him due to his several missing and broken teeth, had since served his jail sentence only to find himself back in the slammer, this time for possession of illegal drugs. Still not the real reason Joey wanted to nail him. But this b*****d was obviously of the same ilk as his father.

“It’s my girlfriend’s. She left it at my place last night.”

It was the best he could come up with. Telling them to contact Princess Hayley probably wasn’t a very good idea right now considering the way he’d threatened her and her penchant for revenge. He’d been startled to see her phone when his pockets were emptied. It must have happened when he let her go. He remembered being highly amused by her scuttling off like a frightened rabbit after all her confident flirting and not paying much attention to what he’d dropped himself in the slight tussle.

“C’mon, Phillips. Blokes like you don’t have girlfriends, you just have sex. So first you’re doing the peeping tom act and now we find you got some poor bitch’s phone.” He pushed his face into the suspect’s, his breath reeking of garlic from the chicken kiev he’d downed with indigestion and diet coke at a late pub lunch. “C’mon, where is she? What’d you do to her?”

The suspect gritted his teeth and glared back. Peeping Tom act! Yeh, that’d be right! Let them go figure. He hadn’t mentioned his mother was in the hospital and he often went there not to visit, she’d never know him, but just to gaze up at the ward, wondering how she was. He never told anyone that. Somehow it made him feel vulnerable, like he would be opening a window to his soul.

Officer Luke Johnson tapped his teeth with a biro as he always did when he was nervous. He was young, new to the area, unfamiliar with the Phillips family, and ever since they’d picked up Kane Phillips he’d felt decidedly uneasy about the obvious flouting of the rules. Anyone brought in for questioning was meant to be taken straight to the interview room, given access to a solicitor.

“We could get him to prove it,” he suggested. “He could give her a call.”

“Fine,” Briscoe snapped, aware he had to tread warily, be seen to adhere to the rules here. His younger colleague just might be stupid enough to report this to higher authorities and things could turn nasty. “Okay, Phillips, if she can vouch for you, you’re off the hook. If not, we’re booking you.”

“What the **** for?”

Joe Briscoe savoured the moment. “Oh, suspicion of committing an offence. We might need to run a computer check of all the missing girls in Oz. We’re bound to find something we can pin on you. Unless, of course,” he grinned mockingly; “ you can prove the phone really is your girlfriend’s.”

“Sure I bloody well can!”

Feigning nonchalance, he scrolled down the long list of names of Hayley’s friends. He needed someone who wasn’t the usual Hayley clone with nothing much in her head other than what nail varnish to wear. Someone with a mind of her own.

Abby, Amanda, Cassie - Crazy Cassie, no way! - Emily, Grace, Jasmine - a possibility, she usually needed money and he could pay well for the deception, if she was quick enough to go along with it, as Scotty often had notes stashed round the house - except Jaz wasn’t the brightest button in the box; Jenny, Jessica, Kate, Lisa...Finally he made his selection and took a deep breath as heard the phone ring out. He had phrase this carefully to make sure she understood. But Joe Briscoe snatched it away before he could speak.

“G’day, miss! We got your boyfriend Kane Phillips down here at the station...”

It was all down to Martha McKenzie now...

[I love music]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Kase, now I have the info about their backgrounds, hope to have the Noah/Kit fluff in the next chapter when I’ll do a flashback (tho they are in this chapter too.)

Once again, thanks to Skykat for her help and advice.

***chapter 19***

“Hello!”

An enormous amount of dialogue was packed into Martha “Mac” McKenzie’s one small word as she pressed the mobile phone to her ear without bothering to look at the caller’s name flashed on the screen. It was a snappy, impatient hello, the kind that said I’m incredibly busy right now with far, far better things to do than talk to you, if you value your life and your family then rack off immediately and stop wasting my time or this could get very, very nasty.

She was beside herself with grief, anger and a myriad emotions, some of which she hadn’t even known existed until the last few moments. She could do without what would no doubt be one of her friends with some snippet of silly gossip or her brother Macca to complain the latest girl on the scene had dumped him/told him he was a loser/refused to go out with him/what on earth did he do wrong or her grandad demanding to know what time she intended to be home.

Cassie, poor, poor Cassie! How could anyone do this to her? How could anyone turn her into this shuddering wreck? Cassie didn’t know HOW to hurt people. She’d do anything for anyone, give away her last cent, never, ever bagged people out even though a hundred times and more Martha had seen the bitchy sneers and heard the bitchy comments from their so-called friends.

She always told Cassie she was imagining it.

She had to tell her something, anything, to take away the pain of that deep, unreachable sadness she saw in Cassie’s eyes. Martha suspected that long ago some boy had broken her heart - not a proper boyfriend because her friend had already told her that she’d never had a proper boyfriend, but she would tell her the story one day. As always with Cassie, opening up had to be a gradual process.

Martha’s own imaginary scenario was of a boy in Cassie’s junior class whom she’d had a massive crush on and who, when she’d finally plucked up courage to tell him, had cruelly told her in front of the whole class that he wouldn’t go out with her if she were the last girl on earth. And Cass, trusting the whole world to be as caring as herself, was ultra sensitive. Rejection cut her to the quick. Martha hated this imaginary boy with a fire-blazing passion, but she hated Kane Phillips even more.

“How dare he! How dare he, Cass, how dare he!” Tears of anger and helplessness rained down her face and Cassie’s tears were wet on her neck and all she could do was hold her, patting her back soothingly as though she were a very young child.

“Well, Cassie wasn’t the only one Kane Phillips attacked but look at me, am I demanding all the attention?” Hayley pouted in her spoilt voice.

Martha looked round at Hayley, annoyed that even at a time like this she could still be petty and spiteful. But she had to make allowances. Okay, Hayley had managed to get away and, okay, Hayley had Adam, who was standing beside her with his arm round her waist, for support too, but she’d been through a terrifying ordeal just the same and she looked pale and drawn.

“Oh, Hayles, I’m so sorry! It must have been awful for you!” She pulled her friend into a warm, comforting hug and Hayley gave a slow, brief smile.

“We’ve got to call the police, get this sicko put away,” Adam began again, returning to the argument that had been ongoing since Martha arrived.

“He’s right, Hayles.” Martha was rarely in agreement with Adam, they were chalk and cheese, but on this occasion she was one hundred per cent behind him.

Hayley shook her head, breaking away from the hug. “No! I can’t! Not yet...”

“But what if he attacks someone else?” Martha argued. “What if he doesn’t stop at you and Cass?”

“It was all my fault,” Cassie whimpered. She had sunk back down on the bed and was engrossed in twisting a crumpled, tear-soaked tissue. “He didn’t know...I said...he thought...”

Martha swung round furiously. “Cass Turner, you are NOT taking the blame for that sick low-life’s perverted behaviour!”

“He didn’t know, Martha, he really didn’t know I didn’t want to.” Cassie looked up at her with her big eyes, hoping Martha would understand.

“Don’t even think of going there!” Martha stood with both fists on her hips, glaring at Cassie, and feeling like a rotten bully. But if bullying was what it took to make her best friend understand she was the victim here, then she’d bully without mercy.

“Call the cops, get the b*****d banged up forever,” Adam said, drawing Hayley to him though Hayley immediately pulled away.

“Stop it, Adam! I’ve just been almost raped and you think this is a good time to make a pass?”

“For God’s sake, all I was doing was trying to put my arm round you!”

“Martha, please believe me. I sort of told Kane he could. It wasn’t his fault.” Cassie’s trembling voice rose to a crescendo above the din of the music and partying downstairs in the far wing of the grand house.

“Of course it was HIS bloody fault!” Martha roared back.

Everyone was talking at once and in the midst of all the chaos, a mobile phone rang sharply. It was easily identifiable as Martha’s. She was probably the only student in Summer Bay High who didn’t follow the trend of downloading the latest ring tones.

“Hello!”

She pressed the phone to her ear, only half listening. And then a stranger’s voice imparted a surreal message that took her breath away:

“G’day, miss! We got your boyfriend Kane Phillips down here at the station...”

*****

“Look, guys, thanks for everything. I’m fine and all dried out now so I’ll go...”

“Go where?” Kit turned abruptly from where she and Noah were kissing, whispering and giggling together on the couch.

“Oh, I dunno. Home maybe. Back to the party maybe. Find a new guy to score with maybe.”

Gypsy, who was sitting on the arm of the long leather couch, swirled the ice cubes round her drink and gazed dispassionately at the partygoers. It was obvious that Noah and Kit were dying to find somewhere private and she was in the way big time but they were too polite to tell her so.

“You’re not going anywhere on your own after what Mad Mac did to you! Tell her, Noah.”

“You’re fine with us, we’re happy for you to stay,” Noah lied.

He and Kit had been getting closer by the minute. Even if Gypsy hadn’t already been an expert, she’d have recognised the tell-tale signs. Gazes lingering far, far longer than they needed to linger. Words that meant something to only the two of them. Secret smiles, secret touches.

“Hey, I’m a big girl, guys!” Gypsy jumped up and then caught her breath as someone blocked her path.

Jack Holden stood there, looking at her with huge puppy dog eyes, looking at her with his hair and shirt still drenched from the earlier soaking, but not seeming to care.

“Gypsy! Thank God I’ve found you! Megan said she’d seen you heading in this direction, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” He paused and bit his lip. “I wanted tell you I’m really, really sorry. Mac was crook and I just ran to her without thinking. I should never have left you like that and I...I’m sorry.”

Gypsy shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. You know how it goes. Throw out the garbo, someone. Oops, there goes Gypsy Nash! Ah, well, same difference.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.” Gypsy gave a mixed message, smiling brightly and yet talking in a choked voice.

“In fact, you’re talking rubbish.”

“That’s a very bad joke, Holden.” She swung away, but he caught hold of her arm and looked straight into her eyes.

“I didn’t mean it as a joke. And somehow I don’t think you did either.”

For the very first time in her life Gypsy Nash, known by everyone to always be ready with a smartass reply, was lost for words. Tiny shivers ran down her spine and strangely she wanted this moment and for him to look at her in that tender way to last forever.

She was vaguely aware of Kit tapping her shoulder.

“Catch you later then, guys!” She said, with a knowing smile, relieved that she and Noah could make their exit with clear consciences now Gypsy was no longer alone, adding in a low voice that only Gypsy heard, “Hayley will spit the dummy! First Kim and now her bezzie mate’s guy! Have fun!”

Gypsy returned the smile tinged with sadness. It wasn’t about Hayley now. It was about...well, she didn’t know what it was about anymore. Like life had dealt her a brand new deck of cards and told her to go ahead, Gypsy, pick a card, any card, and, wow! Look what you got there, Gyps, Jack of Diamonds!

But she couldn’t help wishing Jack was Will. That was natural, wasn’t it, you never forgot your first love, did you? It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean anything at all, it was just the way everyone remembered yesterday with rose-tinted glasses, didn't they? Anyhow, she’d blown it with Will and it was too late for regrets.

And the nicest guy in the world, not caring that he was still drenched and all because he’d kissed her, was looking at her with those gentle eyes and asking her to dance to the slow, romantic song playing, and she fitted so perfectly into his arms.

*****

“I wouldn’t bother looking for her out here. She went back inside ages ago.”

Kim jumped at the voice that had just read his mind and looked down, almost half expecting to see the one of the water sprites that reputedly haunted the area together with the weeping grey lady (who must have been extremely hungry, for she always rose out of the river to disappear inside the abandoned restaurant). Or at least the ghost books sold to Summer Bay tourists claimed they haunted the area and as the tourists loved to be scared out of their wits and to send them on to relatives and friends to be scared out of their wits the myth lived merrily on.

Megan Ashcroft was sitting on a sheepskin rug, leaning against the tree, shielding her eyes from an imaginary sun.

Megan was a loner. How she always got invites to all the cool places was a mystery and yet it wasn’t. She had an amazing talent for painting and had already sold a fair few so it was considered extremely cool to hang out with Megan - although nobody ever managed it because she didn’t need anyone except her childhood sweetheart Tony, who was temporarily away studying at a music academy in the city.

Megan was very pretty in a startling kind of way. She had a shock of long, frizzy red hair, an elfin face and different coloured eyes that seemed to stare at you intensely. When Tony wasn’t around to accompany her, she would turn up at parties dressed in her own unique style, settle somewhere with or without a bottle (Megan didn’t do glasses) and contentedly watch the world go by.

Today she wore a floppy green hat, an old-fashioned green blouse with high collar and puff sleeves, long, thick green beads and unflattering baggy black trousers that put Kim in mind of actresses in second world war movies. It was hard to tell whether she had bought the outfit specially, hired it from a fancy dress shop or raided the wardrobe of some distant elderly relative. And only Megan, Kim thought, could have got away with wearing several cheap bracelets that rattled whenever she moved her arm, green, gold-flecked nail varnish and heaps of green eye shadow without being the talk of the school.

“How long have you been there?” He grinned. Despite her unusual appearance, she was always very easy to talk to even for someone as shy and awkward as himself.

“Oh, long enough to observe. And I can tell you, Hayley is off guys. She went to the copse with Kane Phillips, he said something she didn’t like, she ran indoors and after a while Hayley’s lackey Adam Kerr is sent out to fetch Mac. Luckily she’d recovered by then from chucking buckets of water over ex-boyfriends and their new loves before passing out.”

“You know a helluva lot!”

Megan grinned back. “I know everything there is to know about everyone. Amazing what you learn just by sitting here. Want to know more? Davey Molyneaux has the hots for Mac but she’s still carrying a torch for Jack Holden and he’s decided to hook up with Gypsy Nash who I somehow don’t see knocking him back. Poor Crazy Cass is all mixed up about something, Kane, I think, she had a bit of a blue with Mac over it earlier. As for Kit and Noah - well, love story of the decade. Those two, they’ll be living in a little white house close to the beach, married with three kids, a dog, a cat and a rainbow lorikeet in a few years’ time.”

“Sounds like you know the future.”

“That’s funny,” Megan frowned. “My gran said I’d inherit The Gift. She said my two sisters never would, just me. I’ve to cherish it, Gran said, it’s worth a fortune apparently.”

Kim sat down beside her and she spread the rug to make room for him. “What, like she’s gonna leave you an expensive lucky pendant or something?” He asked curiously.

Megan laughed. “No, you dill! She meant I was psychic.”

Kim blushed. His Dad was right. He was stupid.

“You’re not stupid.” Seeing the look on Kim’s face, it was Megan’s turn to blush. “Oh, God, I’ve done it again, haven’t I? I don’t read minds, honest I don’t! It’s just people’s expressions.”

She stared at him so unblinkingly, so worriedly, with her brown and green eyes that he felt obliged to turn it all into a joke.

“Okay then, Madam Zora, what’s your prediction for the students of Summer Bay High this year?”

Megan suddenly looked down at her hands. “You don’t want to know!”

“Hey, it’s not important...”

“Look, you’ve got to understand, it’s guesswork, all of it. I don’t know if I’m right or wrong. I just go with feelings.”

“Now you’ve got me intrigued.”

But she laughed suddenly and shook back her mane of red curls. “Aw, I’m just having a lend of you! But I have got a feeling about your future, Kim Hyde. Someone is going to fall in love with you and you’re going to fall truly, madly, deeply before you know it. A girl you already know. But it’s not the one you want to love you.”

“Not Hayley?” There was no point in pretending. The whole of Summer Bay High knew how Kim felt about Hayley.

“Sorry. Not Hayley,” Megan confirmed. “I can’t tell who it is. I think she’s kind of already in your life, in the background somehow, and you’ve always liked each other without realising. But it’s definitely not Hayley.”

He sighed heavily, unable to conceal his disappointment.

“Hey, don’t believe everything I say!” Megan said lightly. “Like I told you, it’s only guesswork. Half the time I don’t even believe it myself.”

“Yeh, well...” He stood up and dusted his trousers. “See you around, Meg.”

“See you around,” she smiled, and pulled the hat down over her eyes as though it were early afternoon and siesta time.

Kim didn’t need to know. Nobody did. And she was probably wrong anyway despite what Gran claimed about her having “the gift”. Superstitious nonsense, all of it. Nobody needed to know something she wasn’t sure about herself.

But the inner voice persisted.

Someone from this party tonight is going to die. And very, very soon.

[I love music]

*Eagerly awaits* ...also scared for whoever dies...

Thank you!

Well, finished the latest chapter and just in time as I'm leaving for relatives for Xmas in a couple of hours. It's pretty long (again! ). Hope anyone who reads enjoys.

Have a great Xmas, everyone!

Background Music

written by I love music

ideas and suggestions by Skykat

Back in the days when she lived in Brookdown, Martha discovered that a swiss army knife was a very handy item for someone who worked on a farm. The one she owned was particularly useful. As well as corkscrew, toothpick, keychain, can opener and bottle opener, hook and sewing eye (all frequently used, especially during lunch breaks or when clothes got snagged as they often did) there was a wire cutter to free sheep that sometimes became entangled in the barbed wire and two screwdrivers, occasionally used for emergency repairs of machinery, tweezers to pluck out splinters from fences or wasp stings (hearing his screams after he disturbed a wasps’ nest one day, she had rushed to her brother Macca’s rescue), a nail file to file down nails ruined by a day’s hard yakka, even a ballpoint pen and scissors - and of course two shiny blades, the sharp main blade and a slightly smaller one. All of which could be snapped back into a distinctive red case with one simple touch of the spring mechanism and then packed neatly back into its leather pouch that also contained a small torch, magnifying lens, thermometer and compass! Small wonder Martha and the swiss army knife that had once belonged to her father were inseparable.

She never forgot the day she won it.

Ever since a slight stroke Marty McKenzie had been in semi retirement, his wife and two eldest, Chris and Tommo, helping him run the farm while the two youngest, Macca and Martha, did what they could inbetween school. But another stroke, this time much more severe, took a heavy toll. Marty was sadly left with a paralysis down the right side of his body and, as in addition to nursing her husband Donna McKenzie had recently undergone a hysterectomy herself, Chris and Tommo, who by now were in their early twenties, convinced them that they were well able to work the farm and that their parents should spend more time in the farmhouse dealing exclusively with the office administration. And Marty McKenzie suddenly found that the swiss army knife that he’d relied on around the farm for many years was no longer needed. Unlike in the midst of a field, things like can openers and scissors could of course be easily located indoors. The problem was, all of the McKenzies siblings vied to be its new owner and a heated argument broke out the sunny afternoon he rashly asked were there any takers.

Then Marty hit on the perfect solution.

McKenzie’s Farm grew rows of organic lettuce, carrots, celery and strawberries, which sold extremely well in the shops and helped them break even with the constant financial demands of running their own business. However, weeds grew more freely without conventional pesticides to control them and digging them out with a hoe was clumsy and destroyed crops. Delicate hand weeding was often the only answer.

“Whoever can get the most weeds out of their patch in ten minutes wins the knife!” He announced, taking out the stop watch while Donna McKenzie, who was a keen photographer, fetched her digital camera ready to record another historical family event.

“You’ve no chance, Mac!” Macca predicted, grinning.

“He’s right,” Tommo agreed, ruffling his little sister’s hair. “Physical stamina is what’s needed and girls aren’t strong enough. Never mind, I might lend you the knife occasionally.”

Chris pulled a face. “As if you’ve a snowball in hell’s chance, bro! I know for a fact you’ve been smoking the odd ciggie down the pub and you’re up against me, just voted Hampton’s footie player of the year!” He patted Martha’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, kiddo, I’ll let you have a go of the knife sometimes if you’re very, very careful with the sharp blades. Deal?”

Martha smiled sweetly. Would they never learn that she wasn’t made of glass and chocolate? As soon as her brothers said she couldn’t do something it made her all the more determined to prove them wrong.

“Go!” Marty McKenzie announced, setting the stop watch and all four set to work, beavering away furiously as the minutes ticked by.

“And the winner is...Martha!”

Martha immediately forgot her sore fingers and aching knees, threw her battered old sun hat into the air and, oblivious to the mud that splattered her, did a celebratory circular run, to her brothers’ amusement and her later embarrassment as it was all recorded forever on the digi camera, the happy little family scene made all the more poignant when barely a year later their parents died in a tragic car accident.

Had Summer Bay High adopted the policy of many high schools around the world and conducted regular searches of its students the army knife would no doubt have long ago been confiscated as a dangerous weapon, for even though it was rarely used nowadays Martha still carried the swiss army knife in its leather pouch in her schoolbag, to remember her father by, just as she still carried her mother’s small address book.

But Summer Bay High had no history of violence and nobody had ever felt it necessary to conduct searches. Everywhere Martha went the knife went with her. For no more than sentimental reasons, she had put both address book and the knife into her handbag tonight, never thinking for a second she’d use it for anything other than perhaps twisting the top off a bottle of coke with its bottle opener. She’d never really used the blades. She didn’t even know how sharp they were. Though once on the farm she had cut herself accidentally and rich, red blood had poured profusely from her ripped skin, dripping down on to the grass like bright red summer rain. So they must be sharp enough. For the idea that had come into her mind and lodged there immovable.

“I’ll be there,” Martha said briskly in answer to the caller’s directions, clicking shut the phone.

“Who was that?” Hayley demanded curiously.

“Jack,” Martha replied shortly, her heart pounding, hoping they wouldn’t see through her lie. “He wants me to go meet him.”

“And you’re going?” Hayley stared at her incredulously. “After all that’s happened and all that I told you?”

Martha bit her lip. “Yeh, well maybe I’m sick of doing everything you reckon I should. From now on, I make up my own mind.”

“Martha...?” Cassie’s voice sounded shaky and she was shivering, looking at her friend with hurt and puzzlement in her big, scared eyes. Stricken with guilt at having to leave her, Martha squeezed her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Cass,” she said gently. “Everything will be okay, I promise. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She noticed Adam whisper something to Hayley and suddenly had a strong desire to slap him across his smug little face though she didn’t know why.

Hayley caught hold of her arm. “You better not start blabbing about all this!”

“Hayles!” Martha was deeply wounded by the implication. “How can you even think that? You and Cass have asked me not to tell anyone so of course I won’t. What do you take me for?”

“A cow,” Hayley spat vindictively, her eyes cold as ice. “Go on then, go back to your precious Jack, he’s obviously far more important than your friends!” She pushed Martha through the door, slamming it furiously behind her.

The last glimpse she had was of Cassie sitting on the bed in the fluffy white bathrobe, bare legs still curled around as though in some peculiar yoga position, head bowed, hair soaking, shoulders shaking, crying silently.

I’m doing the right thing, she tried to tell herself, hurrying down the hidden stairway that Adam had led her up earlier so that she could take the side exit and hopefully avoid anyone seeing her. Strangely, though she knew she should be, she wasn’t afraid. Red hot blazing anger had burnt out any fear. Right at that moment, Mac didn’t care if she ended up in prison or worse but she did care about her friends. As soon as they got far enough away from that police station, Kane Phillips, like Cass and Hayley, would know exactly what it was like to be permanently scarred.

*****

“Will didn’t waste any time getting to know Dani Sutherland, did he?”

Kit was snuggled up to Noah, cosy, safe and warm. And feeling loved. Oh, God, so loved. Noah might have preferred the actual moment, but Kit preferred the slow build-up, the tender words whispered, the stroking and gentle kisses that grew more passionate, gazing into each other’s eyes, knowing each cared so deeply about the other. And afterwards. Afterwards the comfort of lying side by side holding each other, her arms locked around Noah’s shouldlers, his arms locked around her waist. She had always enjoyed lovemaking, but it had never been as intense for her as it was for the guy. Though after tonight she was convinced Noah would be the one to change all that.

“Will didn’t waste time with Dani, did he?” Kit repeated, when Noah’s only response was to pull her closer and, heaven though it was to feel his strong arms around her and inhale his manly scent, Kit was still keen to discuss the party guests.

“Mmm.” Noah’s murmur tickled the crook of her shoulder, sending equal measures of warmth from his breath and cold from the tingling shivers at the magic of him being so close.

“You think Gyps is good with Jack? I thought they looked great together tonight.”

“Mmm.”

“Noah!” Kit giggled as his breath tickled her neck again. “I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

“I don’t want to talk about other people, Kit.” Noah lifted his head from Kit’s shoulder and sat up. “I want to talk about us.”

“Us?” Kit’s heart skipped a beat. A moment ago she had been so certain about their love. Despite all he’d told her tonight all the old doubts resurfaced. Was he going to tell her it had been wonderful, but they didn’t have a future? All they had was a past, a common denominator, but now they didn’t need the support and they would always remain friends. Her mind flashed back to how it all began.

*****

“This is Kit, everyone. Welcome to our little group, dear. Please take a seat and, dear, do feel free to talk as much or as little as you like.” Esther Simmons, who was in her early sixties and wore a navy twin suit, neat white blouse and sensible lace-up shoes, fingered the silver medal of the Madonna around her neck and smiled down at her.

Kit self-consciously perched uncomfortably on the edge of the little wooden chair and kept her gaze firmly focused on her hands in her lap. Religion gave her the creeps, but it was worse than she’d imagined. On the far side of the draughty church hall above a tiny stage was a large, intimidating statue of Christ nailed to the cross and raising his eyes Heavenwards and on a nearby table several small statues of saints were herded haphazardly together as though animatedly discussing the possibility of the Second Coming although the abandoned duster gave a clue as to the real reason for their zealous gathering. A large noticeboard with home-made multi-coloured letters of varying sizes advertised “Yabbie Creek Catholic Primary Year 1” beneath which were children’s sketches of Jesus (though, in truth, some of the figures could have been of anyone, from a floating Father Xmas decked in a long coat and minus the trademark hat to a bearded lady in a nightgown). Another table, sandwiched inbetween a stack of folded chairs and next to the tea urn, was crammed with hymn books, religious pamphlets, newly washed, still dripping wet cups and plates and a family size tin of biscuits, its lid decorated with a scenic picture of an old country church covered in snow and Victorian churchgoers swarming towards it.

From behind arched doors a church organ suddenly burst into its deep, introspective music and Kit, who had never been in a church in her life, not even for her father’s funeral, was terrified that at any moment they were all going to jump up shouting Hallelujah and set about trying to convert her. She wanted a drink so badly. Not tea and biscuits, a proper drink. Her hands began to tremble like they often did since she’d been cold turkey. She clenched them together. She’d relax if she had a drink. Just one. That was all she needed. But she knew there was absolutely no chance of that. Drink was the reason they were all here.

There were eleven chairs arranged in a circle, ten occupied and one spare, which she assumed was for Esther, but it remained empty, Esther instead pulling up a chair behind the group and busying herself scribbling into a notebook. Listening to the murmur of voices, of people who already knew each other and were making small talk about the weather and their journeys, Kit nervously lifted her eyes and checked out the group of three women and six men. One of the men she had occasionally seen in her local park, sleeping on a bench or examining the contents of the garbage bin. Before she’d got so bad herself, she’d even laughed scornfully at the “smelly derro” like anybody at Summer Bay High who’d passed him by while taking the short cut through the park to school had done. Stevie, as he introduced himself, the smelly derro who’d stunk of BO and slept rough covered in a car blanket, turned out to be a former television correspondent who’d lost his house and family due to spiralling gambling debts and his alcohol addiction. He was gaunt but much cleaner since she’d last seen him and getting his life back together, he told her proudly, living in a hostel and selling The Big Issue.

She edged closer to the radiator, trying to make out like she was cold but in reality trying to edge her way out of the group. She didn’t belong with them. The nearest in age was twenty years older, a woman in her mid thirties who was telling her how she’d turned to drink after being left alone with three small kids. Kit smiled politely, only half listening. She couldn’t do this. She’d promised her family she would, but she had nothing in common with these people. She had just drawn breath to tell them sorry but she had to go when he arrived.

At first, aware he was studying psychology and planned a future career as a counsellor, she thought he’d come on some kind of training course and could have died with shame that he’d discovered her here. Of course she knew the rumours, started by Hayley, flew around the school about her being an alcoholic but she also knew no one at Summer Bay High really knew anything for certain. Until now.

Tall, blond, muscular, gorgeous, and the guy she’d had a massive crush on ever since she’d first seen him, but knew she had no chance with. After all, he was Hayley Smith’s boyfriend and Hayley Smith was stunningly beautiful while Kit had been the only one in the Hunter family unlucky enough to inherit her father’s homely features and not her mother’s good looks. Nor did it help that her handsome older brother was a heartthrob or that her pretty younger sister had received four Valentines cards last Valentine’s Day and already had boys ringing up for her. Kit had never had a boy give her a second glance let alone a Valentine card. In fact, the only card she’d ever received had been the anonymous one her Mum had sent because she felt sorry for her and which made Kit feel all the more angry and lonely.

“Hey, Kit,” he said, sounding unsurprised to see her, shaking the rain off his coat. “Sorry I’m late, everyone. The bus broke down and that was one helluva walk.” And then he slipped his leather jacket on the back of the empty chair and sat down. “I guess I should say my name’s Noah Lawson and I’m an alcoholic. But you already know my name and we don’t really go in for the admission thing here, not unless anybody wants to. What I AM proud to admit though is, I’ve been off the booze now for months. Haven’t touched a drop since I came to Summer Bay.” He met her eyes and smiled a smile that made her heart flip.

It was the beginning of a breathless, beautiful love.

He walked her home because it was still teeming with rain and the bus breakdown would mean a long delay and getting soaking wet waiting at the shelter-less bus-stop for the Summer Bay bus. He walked her home, his leather jacket covering both their heads, cheek to cheek, because Kit had left when the sun had still been blazing in a bright blue sky and had only brought with her a thin summer jacket. He walked her home because for both it felt so natural, so right.

They talked non stop, finding each other so easy to talk to.

He told her how he’d lately finished with Hayley. “There was never anything between us. I guess I was just flattered that someone like Hayley, the richest girl in the school, should be interested in me. She didn’t know, nobody in Summer Bay High apart from Fisher does, that I was considered a total loser in my old school because of the drinking. They think I never drink because I don’t like the taste. If only they knew! I was expelled from three schools for constantly getting wasted. I know exactly how hard it is to give up the booze, Kit. Heaps of times I’ve got mad at Hayley for bagging you out. It’s a huge weight off my mind to be able to tell someone my secret at last.”

“Me too,” Kit said, finding it somehow endearing that he had referred to Hayley as the richest and not the most beautiful. She blew a sigh of relief that gently fluttered her fringe and flushed when Noah grinned, “You know, it’s cute when you do that. I always watch you in Math and know when you’ve solved some tricky problem...”

“Watch me...?” Kit looked puzzled and it was Noah’s turn to blush.

“Sheesh, I didn’t mean to sound like some weirdo stalker! Kit, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you ever since I first saw you but you seemed way out of my league.”

“Funny,” Kit said, smiling, feeling as though she could talk to him about anything. “I always thought the same about you.”

During their break for tea and biscuits, with the rain pattering away outside, he had told her quietly about how he’d become an alcoholic. “My Mum was obsessed with religion. Not as in just praying and stuff, it was heaps more than that. Things got really strange after Dad left but my brother and me, we were kids, we didn’t understand she was mentally ill. We thought it was fun to move to an abandoned farm-house in the middle of nowhere, no phone, no gas or electric or running water.” He smiled nostalgically. “And in some ways it was idyllic. We fetched water from the well, ate the veggies we grew in the garden, fish we caught from the stream, fruit that fell from the trees. But if other people came by Mum had me and Jude hide, she said they would taint us because the world was evil and we’d become evil too.”

Noah sighed and looked somewhere faraway, making her long to throw her arms round him and tell him everything would be alright. After a while he pulled himself together and smoothed back his hair (a mannerism, Kit would come to notice and love, he often had when he was anxious). “We didn’t know anything about school, a world outside our lives, we thought it was normal to be on our knees for hours each day enduring long prayer sessions. Jude tried to be serious but me, being youngest, I always played up. Then one day Mum really did her block when I began laughing. She said I was wicked and that she would have to pray for my soul. That night...that night...” his voice broke. “I woke to find dozens of candles round my bed and Mum, her eyes wild, ranting and raving something about me being possessed by demons and she had to get them out of me. I was six years old. I was terrified. ” He paused again, overcome with emotion.

“What happened?” Kit asked gently. She’d already told him her own story, how she’d turned to alcohol after the death of her father because, due to her low self-esteem, she wrongly felt that her mother favoured her brothers and sister and didn’t love her. It was good to be with someone who didn’t judge her, who understood how easily drink could take hold.

Noah gave a small smile. “Jude happened. He ran to get help, across two fields, one of them with a couple of bulls roaming just at the other side of the ditch. He was only nine, it was a long, long way to the nearest town, but he didn’t stop, not till he reached the road and could flag down a car. The fire engine got to us just in time. By then one of the candles had been knocked over and set light to the bedding, to Mum’s hair and clothes. I don’t remember much after that, just my screaming and a terrible burning pain down my arm. I blacked out and woke up in hospital. Mum was badly burned and never recovered. It was how they found us, how they found we lived there. We were taken into care. I had nightmares about that night for years afterwards. It was how I began drinking.”

“My problems were insignificant compared to yours,” Kit murmured guiltily. “I just felt sorry for myself.”

“Hey, don’t put yourself down!” Noah protested. “I want you to promise you’ll never put yourself down again, Kit Hunter.”

“I promise,” Kit said, her lips twitching into a smile, and thinking with Noah it would be easy to never put herself down again.

But suddenly their beautiful, breathless love was about to tumble into nothingness and she’d be lonely, unloved Kit again. They said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But it wasn’t. She’d never get over the pain of this broken heart.

“Us as in you and me,” Noah said, smoothing back his hair.

“Sounds serious.” Kit tried hard to sound jokey, a lump in her throat.

He lifted his head and met her eyes. “How do you feel about getting engaged?”

“What?” Kit could only stare at him in amazement.

“I’m not that bad! Am I?”

She was touched by the genuine anxiety in his voice.

“I love you so much, Kit,” Noah added. “I’d be stoked if you said yes.”

“Yes!” She said, tears of happiness dimming her eyes as she threw her arms round him. “Yes, yes, yes!”

*****

The lights of the police station were blazing brightly. Martha had already transferred the knife from her handbag and into her trousers pocket. She took a deep breath before running determinedly up the steps.

“My name’s Martha McKenzie,” she announced to the desk sergeant. “I’m here to see Kane Phillips.”

This was it. No going back now.