‘That’s your right. But you will be nice to my family and to my friends.’

‘I will be nice to your family and to your friends,’ he repeated. ‘Tell me about Scott.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I’ve employed you for three years. I’ve never asked about your family.

‘I don’t take kindly to questions,’ she intoned and he grimaced.

‘That’s your right,’ he conceded. ‘Of course you’re not obligated to tell me.’

‘As you’re not obligated to tell me who you just telephoned.’ She relented then, sighed and put up her hands in mock surrender. ‘No. Don’t tell me. It’s Jenny who wanted to know that one, not me.’ And how about that for a barefaced lie? she thought, but some lies were almost compulsory.

But William’s question still hung, unanswered, and he wasn’t taking it back.

She glanced at the house. Apart from the Christmas decorations it was all in darkness. Letty and Scott would be long asleep. Even the dogs hadn’t stirred on their return. They’d be sleeping in a huge huddle at the end of Scott’s bed, she knew. Turps and Roger would be on the bed itself-Scott had trained them to lie still so he could use them as a rest for his brace. The others would be on the floor, as close as they could get.

She loved Scotty so much it hurt. It hurt so much she wanted to cry. And, all at once, it was easy to answer William’s question. She wanted to talk.

‘Scotty’s my half-brother,’ she said, staring ahead into the darkness. Speaking almost to herself. ‘My mum was a single mum-she had me early and she raised me the hard way, with no parental support. Then, when I was nine, she met Scott’s dad. Alex was a farmer, a fair bit older than she was. Mum was selling second-hand clothes at a market and Alex had come to town to check out some new, innovative water pump. He never bought the pump but he took one look at Mum and he fell hard.’

‘Love at first sight,’ William said, and he sounded a bit derisive. Meg glared at him. He was on shaky ground. Derision wasn’t something she was putting up with tonight.

And apparently he realised it. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry, sorry. Love at first sight. It happens.’

‘So it does,’ she said and glared at him a bit longer until she was sure he was remembering the railway station and the water bottle and the express train thundering through, crowded with people with cameras.

‘So it did,’ she reiterated as he attempted to look apologetic-not a good fit for W S McMaster but it was a start. Her glare faded. ‘I remember the weekend Alex invited us here. He was a great big dairy farmer, in his forties. He hardly talked. That was okay. Mum was a talker, and I remember he just kept looking at Mum like she was some sort of magic. And then I met Letty and Letty was my magic. We arrived on the Friday night and Mum and Alex couldn’t take their eyes off each other all weekend, and on Sunday Letty said “call me Grandma.” It was like we’d come home. We had come home. Alex took us back to Melbourne and we threw our things into the back of his truck and we headed back here and stayed. Alex married Mum a month later. I was a flower girl. Letty made me the most gorgeous dress. We were so happy, and then five years later Scotty was born and it was perfect.’

‘Nothing’s perfect,’ William said, as if he couldn’t help himself, and she shook her head in disgust.

‘And there’s no such thing as love at first sight? Don’t mess with my fairy tales, Mr McMaster. It was love at first sight and it was perfect for sixteen whole years. Sure, the farm’s not big and we struggled a bit, but Mum still did markets and everyone helped. I was good at school and we knew there was no way the farm would support Scotty and me-or even one of us-but I was really happy going to university. I missed it more when I got a full-time job, but I was still pretty happy, having this place here as my backstop. And then four years ago a truck came round a bend on the wrong side of the road and it all crumpled to nothing.’

Silence.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said at last.

‘Yeah,’ she said grimly. ‘It makes you realise that when you have the fairy tale you hang on and you appreciate it every single moment. Just like that…’ She shook her head, shaking away nightmares. ‘Anyway, Mum and Alex were killed instantly. Scotty was eleven. He was in the back seat. He just broke…everything. For months we thought he’d be a paraplegic, but he had so much grit. He has so much grit. He’s fought and fought. For ages neighbours kept the farm going for us. We thought we’d have to sell but then Letty and I figured maybe we could keep it. If we use my salary to augment the income, we can just get by. It’s where Scotty’s happy. It’s where Letty’s happy.’

‘And your job with me…’

‘See, there’s the fairy tale again,’ she said and smiled, but he didn’t smile back. He looked intent, as if trying to see meaning behind her words. It disconcerted her, but no matter, she had to keep going. ‘I thought I’d get a job in Curalo and commute the twenty miles,’ she told him, ‘but then along came your advertisement and it’s been fabulous. We have a lady who comes and milks for us while I’m not here. Letty’s still active. We’ve coped.’

‘So if I sack you…’

Her smile faded. ‘Then…’

‘Then the fairy tale ends again?’

‘It’s not as bad as that,’ she said and tilted her chin. ‘We’ll manage.’

‘I won’t sack you.’

‘I don’t need sympathy.’

‘I’m not offering it. We’ll put this behind us as an unfortunate aberration…’

‘On my part.’

‘On your part,’ he agreed gravely. ‘It’s been a sad hiccup in your normally exemplary efficiency. We’ll get this weekend behind us and then go back to where we were. You’re normally an extremely competent employee.’

‘Gee, thanks,’ she said before she could stop herself. Who was being snarky now?

‘If that’s sarcasm…’

‘No, I’m overwhelmed,’ she said. ‘Honestly I am.’ She had to get herself under control here. Meek, she told herself. Do meek.

‘I don’t give compliments that aren’t deserved,’ he said stiffly and she thought-what am I doing, joshing with a guy who controls my life? But there was something about this day, or this night, this time, this season-maybe even it was just that Santa was still waggling dumbly overhead-that made her refuse to treat this as normal. She wasn’t going back to being Miss Jardine; not just yet.

‘You know you don’t have to simply “get this weekend behind us,”’ she said cautiously. ‘You could enjoy it.’

‘I’m hardly in a position to enjoy it.’

‘Because you don’t have the phone or the Internet?’

‘Because I’m right out of my comfort zone,’ he said honestly. ‘And I want to be back in New York.’

‘And I want my parents back,’ she retorted. ‘But that doesn’t stop me enjoying what I have. The here and now.’

‘That’s very commendable.’

‘It is, isn’t it,’ she said evenly. ‘In fact, if I’m not mistaken, my boss just commended me. He said I was normally an extremely competent employee. So while I’m ahead I might just stop.’ She swung herself out of the car and waited for him to do likewise. ‘I have an early start, Mr McMaster, so I need to go to bed.’

‘Why do you have an early start?’

‘I milk cows,’ she said, heading for the back door. ‘If you can’t sleep and run out of work, then you’re welcome to join me at dawn. Instead of a gym workout. If I were you, though, I wouldn’t wear a suit.’ And she walked into the house and left him to follow-if he wanted.

What choice did he have?

None at all.

CHAPTER FOUR

HE WOKE to the sound of cows. Many cows. The window of his attic bedroom was open and the not-so-gentle lowing was filling the room. The old, comfortable bed, the faded furnishings and the unaccustomed sounds were so different from his normal environment that he struggled to take it in.

But he got it soon enough. He was trapped for Christmas. On Meg’s farm.

Meg…

In the pre-dawn light the name felt strange, almost dangerous. He linked his hands loosely behind his head and stared upward, trying to assimilate how he was feeling. The planked ceiling ran up to a peak. He’d be right underneath Santa’s sleigh, he thought, and that seemed so unnerving he unlinked his hands and swung himself straight out of bed.

He didn’t intend to lie in bed and think about Santa. About what he’d promised. About what he was missing in New York.

Nor did he intend to lie in bed and think about Meg.

Miss Jardine.

Meg, he thought. The name suited her.

So why was Letty’s order to use her name unsettling?

He knew why. As an adolescent blessed with enough insight to think about emotions, he’d struggled with reasons. He’d even wondered if one of the therapists his mother used might give him answers. But finally he’d worked it out himself. This had been a lesson taught early to a child by a jealous, vindictive mother, who believed employees and friends were to be strictly differentiated.

‘They’ll take advantage…’

It was a savage line, said with spite, and the memory of it still had the power to make him flinch.

Unsettled, he crossed to the attic window and peered below. It was barely daybreak; the sun wasn’t yet over the horizon and the farm looked grey-green, barely lit from the night before. He could see the roof of what must be the dairy, and cows clustering beyond. A couple of dogs were fussing around them, but the cows were uninterested. The cows looked as if they knew what they were about, and the dogs were simply demonstrating their role.

A role other than licking Meg.

Meg. There it was again. The word.

‘They’ll take advantage…’

He’d been seven. His parents had been away, for who knew how long? It never seemed to matter because the house was much more fun with them gone. It was summer. School was out and Ros, their cook, had been teaching him to make pancakes. But she’d turned her back and he’d tried to flip a pancake before it was ready. The hot batter had oozed from the spatula and onto his hand.