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“How old were you when she died?” she asked.
“Sixteen.” She sensed his energy shift, tighten.
The same age she’d been when she’d found she had sarcoma. Felicity secreted the information away in a file marked “Oliver” inside her head.
Both silent and seemingly focused on the music, she wondered if maybe Oliver was remembering his mum. In a funny way, she felt quite at ease with them not talking. Like they both got that in each other.
“I think I may need to stretch my leg soon,” she said finally.
Oliver looked at her, his eyes softening. “Sure. As it happens, the Tree Top Walk is coming up.”
“That sounds like more of a challenge than a leg stretch. What is it?”
“You’ll see.” He smiled. “You’ll be fine. Unless you’re afraid of heights.”
“Nope. All good.” Okay, she was ateenybit scared of heights, but nothing compared to spiders. And after her recent bravado, no way was she going to admit it.
The Tree Top Walk turned out to be a number of wooden bridges slung across the trees that wound their way gradually up into the canopy of the magnificent karri forest. (Luckily, there was nice high mesh on each side.) At the apex, the bridge vibrated with their steps and her balance got a little haphazard. Felicity noticed how Oliver just seemed to be close, a quiet, reassuring presence, occasionally steadying her elbow.
Did he have to be such a considerate person as well as a screamingly hot spunk?
Back in the car, she held her thoughts firmly in check and made herself focus on his words as he gave her a potted colonial history of the southwest; of how the wheat and timber industry developed, and in the early days, how everything got shipped back to England.
“Very selfish of us, draining Australia of its resources.” She grinned.
Oliver laughed. “Not to mention our gold, and opals.”
There was one gem they’d left behind, she thought, and he happened to be sitting right next to her. Then she pinned her lips even tighter shut, just in case her mouth got the better of her brain and it popped out.
Another thing she was fast learning was that the distances were humungous. Sure, she’d been warned by everyone, but actually experiencing it was quite different. There was barely a sign of civilisation, barely a building or a town for miles upon miles. Just the Australian bush. A vast wilderness of forests and fascinating plants, so very different from anything she’d seen before, stretching to the horizon in all directions. Until once again, the road met the perimeter fences of cut wheat fields and she spotted the occasional lone farmhouse. And all the time the sun shone out of a vivid blue sky, and the road shimmered with heat.
When the novelty of a service station came into view, Oliver said, “We need to get fuel.”
The van duly parked next to the fuel pump, Felicity jumped out with enthusiasm. “I’ll fill the tank.”
Oliver was busy checking his phone. “Thanks. I’ve just got range and there’s a message from my editor. I’d better text him back, then I’ll go and pay.”
She waved him airily away and grabbed the bowser, feeling very much the outback girl with her Akubra on her head and her Blundstone boots on her feet.
Really, everything about this trip was going so much better than she’d imagined.
* * *
When Oliver reached the check-out,a sandy haired woman with a raspy smoker’s voice asked, “Which pump love?”
Bit of a silly question, considering theirs was the only vehicle here, but he answered,
“The kombi van, at—” he peered out the window over a pile of chocolate bars, “number 7.” He drew out his credit card.
“Nah, love, the kombi’s the other side of 7. The diesel pump.”
A sense of unease filtered down Oliver’s spine. “No, it’s petrol.”
“Not what your girlfriend’s just filled it up with, luv.” Oliver squinted across the tarmac to see Felicity blithely plonking the pump back into a bowser below a sign that clearly read “DIESEL”.
Meanwhile the woman mused, “Thought it was funny. You don’t get many kombis that take diesel.”
Fuck.
