The Girl in the Yellow Vest (49 page)

After much negotiation with a Qantas representative at the airport, she managed to book herself the last seat on a flight from Brisbane to Mackay at ten-fifteen that night. The flight was only approximately an hour and a half so she would arrive in Mackay close to midnight. That would make seeing Will first thing in the morning possible.

The flight seemed to take forever and she didn’t sleep a wink of it even though she was tired. The magazine she’d bought to while away the time remained open on the second page as she reread Will’s letter instead, over and over again.

He loved her!

He’d always loved her.

The knowledge was like firecrackers in her head. She just wanted to explode with joy.

Finally, the plane touched down in Mackay and the gorgeous tropical air hit her skin as her feet touched tarmac. The airport was much smaller than the Brisbane one so there were only two carousels upon which her suitcase could appear and these were located right alongside the area where people were checking in. Thanks to this, it was also impossible not to notice Will, who was handing over a suitcase at a Qantas counter.

‘Will!’ she called out, lifting her hand in delighted shock.

He turned around, his gaze distractedly scanning the airport lounge as though his ears had deceived him. ‘Em, is that you?’

His eyes finally found hers and for the very first time she saw there what she had overlooked for the last seven years. Her breath tore from her throat as he yanked his suitcase off the belt, threw a quick apology to the Qantas representative and hurried towards her. Abandoning the carousel, she ran to him.

He dumped his bag just before their bodies collided. She threw her arms around his neck and he lifted her off the ground.

‘I was coming to Brisbane to see you,’ he explained breathlessly. ‘Why are you back?’

‘Because I love you!’ she said. ‘And I just had to tell you that,
immediately
.’

‘You do?’ He put her down again, gazing hungrily into her eyes.

‘Yes, I do.’ She nodded, pushing her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. ‘Trent lied to you, Will. I didn’t accept his proposal. I’ve been miserable this last week thinking about how much I’ve screwed up everything.’

‘You didn’t screw anything up. I screwed it up with that dumb text message.’ He touched his forehead to hers, closing his eyes in regret. ‘I love you, Em. I’ve always loved you.’

‘I know.’ Her voice trembled at the emotion inherent in his words. ‘I got your letter.’

He lifted his head at that. ‘What letter?’

Her voice faltered as she fished it out of her pocket. ‘This one.’

He opened the folded piece of paper and glanced at it in surprise and then mirth. ‘Bloody Nova. I think I was drunk when I wrote this on that night he came over.’

Emily’s lips parted. ‘So it’s not true?’

‘No,’ he shook his head, ‘it’s true all right. Drunk men don’t lie.’

Emily breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness!’ And then she stood up on tiptoe to claim his mouth. But he grabbed her face just before their lips met.

‘No. This time, I’m kissing you.’ He captured her mouth with all the pent-up emotion and passion of more than half a decade, enveloping her in a world that contained nothing but the two of them and this beautiful moment that would change both their lives.

‘I can’t believe this is happening to us, Will,’ Emily said when they finally pulled apart. ‘This is the most amazing surprise I’ve ever got in my life.’

He brushed her hair behind her ears, smiling at her so tenderly her heart felt like it would burst. ‘So,’ he drawled tentatively, ‘does Trent know about the letter?’

Emily felt her joyful smile droop slightly. ‘He not only knew about it, he also concealed it. He lied to both of us. I don’t think we’ll be seeing him for a while. Not that I would want to.’

Will’s eyes shone with both regret and resignation. ‘I guess so. Perhaps one day he’ll come round, but if not, I have you, don’t I? . . . My
best
best friend.’

He picked up his bag and, with an arm slung across her shoulders, led her back to the carousel, where her luggage was now the only bag doing the rounds on the conveyor belt. She pulled it off and they walked to the car park together.

‘So tell me how the job’s going,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘What’s been happening on site?’

‘Well,’ Will said, tugging her suitcase out of her hands so that he was now holding both his and hers, ‘somebody bet a thousand dollars you and I would get together.’

‘Really?’ Emily blushed rosily. ‘Fancy that.’

The bar and restaurant at Silver Seas resort was packed with happy FIFO workers sharing a drink at her expense. Not even the quiet presence of their project manager Mark Crawford dimmed the revelry. Their leader seemed to have mellowed and quietened somewhat ever since he’d returned to town with Charlotte Templeton on his arm.

He was seated now at a table across from Emily and Will with Nova and Spooks on his right. He didn’t say much, Emily noted, but he smiled more and it was an expression that transformed his entire face. It had certainly reduced the fear his men had of him. Nova was currently pushing a full jug of beer in his direction.

‘Go on, I would kill to see you pissed tonight.’

Caesar raised his eyebrows. ‘I never knew you were such an ambitious man, Nova.’

As Nova opened his mouth to respond, Fish stumbled up to their table, the perfect example of ‘After’ if Mark could be considered the ‘Before’.

‘I’ve gotta hand it to you, Boy Scout,’ he slurred over her shoulder. ‘You play a very deep game. I had no idea you were even interested in . . . what’s your name again, girl?’ He squinted at her.

‘Emily,’ she grinned.

‘In Emma,’ Fish waved a floppy hand, ‘until Spooks announced you won the bet.’

Will said nothing, but he did squeeze her hand under the table. She felt a lovely comforting warmth creep up her neck and she turned slightly to send him a secret smile. Fish, however, was not walking on. He slammed his empty glass down on the wooden table, recalling their attention. ‘I mean, you could have said something. Could have put a little hint in my ear.’

Will chuckled. ‘You had your money on Dipper, didn’t you?’

‘The man brought her a toilet.’ Fish wobbled precariously on his feet. ‘What was I supposed to think?’

Just then Charlotte came up, removing his glass and giving the table a quick wipe. ‘Calm down, Fish,’ she reprimanded him gently. ‘You might break something.’

He merely snorted and tottered off.

Mark put an arm out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to him. ‘Stay awhile. I can help you with that later.’

‘Well, I must admit,’ she smiled at Emily from the circle of Mark’s arm, ‘it was very generous of you to put all your bet winnings on a bar tab for the boys. You didn’t have to do that.’

Emily returned her grin. ‘Well, I did kind of have an unfair advantage. I didn’t feel right about keeping the money.’ She glanced at Will. ‘It was all about making a point, not making myself rich.’

‘And what a lovely point you made, Casino.’ Spooks toasted her and then drained his glass. ‘If you’d like to place any other wagers, I’d be more than happy to receive them.’

‘Ah-huh,’ Charlotte drawled, widening her eyes at Emily. ‘You’ve got a nickname now, I see.’

Emily nodded enthusiastically. ‘I quite like it.’

‘Well, it’s better than being called the Shrink.’ Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a shame we can’t come up with our own.’

‘Where’s the fun in that?’ Spooks demanded and then whipped off his leg and put it on the table. Several men pushed back their seats at the sudden appearance of a human leg from knee to boot sitting in the middle of their drinks.

Emily shrieked and leaped into Will’s lap. Her newly minted boyfriend laughed but generously put his arms around her all the same. It was only then that Emily realised, on closer inspection, the leg was a prosthetic one.

Clutching Will’s T-shirt, she glared at Spooks. ‘You scared me half to death!’

‘Gave you the spooks, did I?’ he chortled. ‘I was saving that for just the right moment. Congratulations, Casino, you’re now a real member of our team.’

‘Yes, Emily,’ Mark remarked dryly, ‘and I believe the correct felicitation at this point would be
Break a leg
.’

‘Mark Crawford,’ Charlotte exclaimed, throwing an arm across his broad shoulders with an expression of feigned shock on her face, ‘I do believe you just cracked a joke.’

Caesar looked first stunned and then supremely pleased. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I suppose I did.’

Third book out, you like to think that you’re becoming a bit of pro and you don’t need as much help as you used to. There’s nothing further from the truth. As usual, I’ve had to call upon a whole swag of helpers from a vast variety of locations.

Firstly, I’d like to thank my critique partners, Nicola E. Sheridan, Marlena Pereira and Kym Brooks, whose thorough and critical eyes helped shape this book from dirty draft to final manuscript. Ladies, where would I be without your insight?

I would like to thank my long-time friend, Kristen Johns, for her diving expertise so that I could get those scenes on the reef just right. Hugs.

My gratitude to Penelope Giles, who was so generous with her time regarding the final court case scenes. Her expert knowledge really helped me make these chapters more authentic. If there are any mistakes concerning the law in the text, they are mine, not hers, and she never saw them.

Thank you also to Sharon Johnston from Dalrymple Bay Coal Terminal Pty Ltd for doing her best to answer all my questions and giving me a more thorough picture of the location and the surrounds.

My appreciation also to anyone else I called or spoke to as part of my research, no matter how briefly, including that poor woman at Woodford Correctional Centre whom I chatted to about giving out inmate details. There are so many people I have thrown random questions at. I am very grateful to you all for your assistance.

Apart from the nuts and bolts of the story, there are people I actually needed just to get me seated in front of my computer. My mum, in particular, has been an angel, taking the kids every Wednesday so I could write. Our nanny, Rebecca Laing, for doing Fridays. My mother-in-law Shirley, for those times she stayed overnight with us to free up my time from home duties.

I must also thank Clare Forster for being such a great agent. Your enthusiasm for my work has kept me motivated. Also to Beverley Cousins, my wonderful publisher, who makes me love writing more and more every day. My publicist, Jess Malpass, for her work with regard to promotion, and the rest of the team at Random House who contributed. Thank you all for your efforts.

And last but not least, to my four beautiful children. Mummy loves you very much. Thank you for your patience. And my husband, Todd. I love it when you talk about my writing because I can see how proud you are of me. You are the rock on which I build everything. Love you.