Marion Lennox - Banksia Bay

Her heart clenched down. No! Just because the man was a load of semi-controlled testosterone … Just because he had the ability to push her buttons …

She turned into her street and Philip’s car was out the front. Her heart sank.

Philip, she told herself. Not a load of semi-controlled testosterone. A good, kind man who’d keep her happy—who’d keep her safe.

I might get tired of safe, she whispered to herself and then she let herself open her mind to the rush of memory that was

Ben and she felt the concept of safe, the need for safe, close around her again. Safe was the only way.

‘Hi,’ she said, climbing from the car. ‘The buck’s night finished early, then?’

‘Hardly a buck’s night.’ He took her hands and kissed her and she had to stop herself from thinking dry as dust. ‘Just my dad and uncles and cousins.’

‘Why aren’t you having a buck’s night?’

‘Tonight was enough,’ Philip said contentedly. ‘I’m busy right up to the honeymoon. Where have you …’

But then he paused. Inside the car, Kleppy had stirred and yawned and whimpered a little.

‘What’s that?’

Deep breath. ‘It’s Kleppy.’

‘Kleppy?’

‘He’s my dog,’ she said and she had a really good shot at not sounding defensive. Maybe she even succeeded. ‘You know Raff gave me a dog this morning and asked me to take him to be put down? I couldn’t. He’s Isaac Abrahams’ dog, he needs a new home and I’ve decided to keep him. Sarah’s been looking after him for me.’

There was no need to mention Raff again. ‘So we have a dog,’ she said and she surprised herself by sounding cheerful. ‘Philip, meet Kleppy. Kleppy, meet Philip. I just know you two are going to be best of friends.’

He didn’t like it, but she wouldn’t budge; she didn’t budge and finally he conceded.

‘It’ll have to sleep outside.’

‘He, not it.’

‘He’ll have to sleep outside,’ he conceded—no mean concession.

‘Okay,’ she said with her fingers crossed behind her back. He could sleep outside for a little, she thought, until Philip got used to the idea and then she could sort of sneak him in. And for the next nine nights he could sleep inside at her place.

‘And what about our honeymoon?’

‘I’ll get Mrs Sanderson to feed and walk him.’

‘She’ll charge.’

‘We can afford it.’

‘I don’t want Eileen Sanderson snooping in our backyard.’

‘I’ll figure something else out, then. But you’ll love him.’

‘If you want a dog, then why don’t we get a pure-bred?’ he asked, checking Kleppy out with suspicion.

‘I like Kleppy.’

‘And Finn dumped him on you.’

‘It was my decision to keep him.’

‘You’re too soft-hearted.’

‘I can’t do a thing about that,’ she admitted, knowing the hurdle had been leaped and she was over the other side. ‘You want to come in for coffee and get acquainted with our new pet?’

‘I have work to do. I’m not confident about tomorrow.’

He would be confident, Abby knew, but he’d still go over his notes until he knew them backwards. And once again she wondered—why had he come back to Banksia Bay? He was smart, he was ambitious, he could have made serious money in the city.

‘I came back for you,’ he’d told her, over and over, but she knew it was more than that. He spent time with her parents. He worked at the yacht club where Ben had once sailed. Every time a challenge occurred that might draw him to the city, he looked at it with regret but he still turned back to Banksia Bay.

She kissed him goodnight and carried Kleppy inside, thinking every time she laid down an ultimatum Philip caved in.

This dog or no wedding?

This dog.

‘He loves me,’ she told Kleppy, sitting down on the hearth rug and allowing her scruffy dog to settle contentedly on her knee. ‘He’ll take you because he loves me.’

But she’d seen Philip’s ruthless behaviour in court. He could be ruthless. He’d never liked dogs.

Why didn’t he just say no?

‘I’m so lucky he didn’t,’ she whispered and she hugged

Kleppy a bit tighter and then gazed towards the spare room door. Her wedding dress lay behind.

She was lucky?

Of course she was.

She was gone and Raff stayed outside, staring sightlessly into the moonlit night.

Abby Callahan.

Right now there was nothing in the world he wanted but Abby Callahan.

Oh, but there was. Inside, Sarah would be snuggling into bed, surrounded by dogs and cats, dreaming of the day she’d just had—her animals, her honey jumbles. Her big brother.

He loved Sarah.

He also loved this place. He loved this town. But love or not, he’d leave if he could. To stay in this place with so many memories …

To stay in this place and watch Abby married …

But leaving wasn’t an option. He’d stay and he wouldn’t touch her again. Tonight had been an aberration, as stupid as it was potentially harmful. He didn’t want to upset Abby. It wasn’t her fault she was the way she was.

It was his.

He was thirty years old and he felt a hundred.

He hardly needed to see her again before the wedding. His participation in the Baxter trial was almost over. He’d given the prosecutor all the help he could manage, even if it wasn’t enough to convict the guy. There might be another couple of times he was called to the stand, but otherwise he could steer well clear.

So … He’d drop Sarah off at the church next Saturday, pick her up afterwards and it’d be done.

Abby Callahan would be married to Philip Dexter.

Abby spent until midnight making Kleppy hers. She bathed him and blowed him dry with her hairdryer. He was never going to be a beautiful dog, but he was incredibly cute—in a shambolic kind of way. He was a very individual dog, she decided.

He tolerated the hairdryer.

He ate a decent dinner, despite his pre-dinner snack of honey jumbles.

He investigated her bedroom as she got ready for bed. And, curiously, he fell in love with her jewellery box.

It was a beautiful cedar box with inlaid Huon pine. Philip’s grandfather had made it for her when she and Philip had announced their engagement. She loved its craftsmanship and she also loved the wood’s faint and beautiful perfume, stronger whenever she opened it.

She also loved Philip’s grandpa, she thought, as she removed Kleppy’s paw from where it had been resting proprietorially on the box. His woodwork was his passion. He’d made these beautiful boxes for half the town. ‘It’ll last for hundreds of years after I’m gone, girl,’ he’d told her and she suspected it would.

Philip’s grandpa was part of this town. Philip’s family. Her future.

More people’s happiness than hers was tied up in next week’s wedding. That should make her feel happy, but right now it was making her feel claustrophobic. Which was dumb.

‘Do you like the box or the jewels?’ she asked Kleppy, deliberately shifting her thoughts. She opened the lid so he could see he couldn’t make millions with a jewel heist.

Kleppy nosed the trinkets with disinterest, but looked longingly at the box. He sniffed it again and she thought it was its faint scent he liked.

‘No!’ she said and put it further back on the chest.

Kleppy sighed and went back to his bra. The bra she’d paid for and given to him. Yes, he shouldn’t benefit from crime but today was an exception.

He made a great little thief.

He slept on her bed, snuggled against her, and she loved it. He snored. She loved his snore. She didn’t even mind that he slept with his bra tucked firmly under his left front paw.

‘Whatever makes you happy, Klep,’ she told him, ‘but that’s the last of your loot. You belong to a law-abiding citizen now.’