‘Osman and I will be there with a plate with food on it.’ Layla laughed. ‘Not like when Erica tells me to bring a plate so I bring an empty one. Do you need help getting ready, Claire?’

  ‘Thanks, but I’m all good. It’s just a casual barbecue and Bec and Louise helped me set up yesterday.’ Claire turned her attention to the crowd outside the tent. ‘If the Tall Trees Fun Run and Family Day keeps growing like this, in a few years we’ll rival Lorne’s Pier to Pub.’

  ‘Don’t wish those numbers on us,’ Bec said.

  ‘We don’t want to lose our tranquil, small-town feel,’ Erica added.

  ‘We won’t. But don’t you all get a buzz knowing that despite everything that happened two years ago, we not only pulled this together, we’ve grown it? We’ve created something special that not only brings money into Myrtle but that people look forward to all year. And I know we have help from the Lion’s Club and the Men’s Shed and all the new Nightlighters, but we started it. I’m so proud of us, sometimes I want to cry.’

  Sophie laughed. ‘Don’t go all soppy on us.’

  ‘We’ve definitely put Myrtle on the map,’ Layla said.

  Erica smiled. ‘And tonight, we’re celebrating.’

  ‘Oh!’ Bec clapped her hands. ‘Did Nathan get a case of the real stuff again for Christmas?’

  ‘Hell, yes! I’ve got it on ice so it’s ready to go.’

  Matt gave a low whistle as Claire walked out of the bathroom. ‘Is that a new dress?’

  She twirled in front of him, pleased to see he was wearing the clothes she’d laid out for him without protest. ‘It is. Do you like it?’

  ‘I love it.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘But aren’t we a bit dressed up for that lot out there?’

  She linked her hands behind his neck. ‘That lot are our family and closest friends.’

  ‘That’s true.’ He glanced out the window. ‘Jeez! Don’t get upset, but Mum and Dad are greeting people like this is their place.’

  It had been a long time since Matt’s parents had upset Claire. She and Louise had forged their own path and, slowly, forced respect had given way to genuine warmth. It wasn’t anything like the closeness Claire had shared with her mother or what she shared with Julie, but it was far from frosty. Tamara had been a harder nut to crack and things had been cool between brother and sister for a long time. Whether Louise and Bill had finally spoken to Tamara or she’d sensed a losing battle, one day her de facto sister-in-law asked if Claire would mind if she joined the CWA Nightlights. Since then, things had settled into a pattern of acceptance. Claire sometimes wondered if Taylor Norris’s marriage to an accountant in Geelong had helped Tamara let go of her animosity.

  ‘Relax, Matt. I asked your parents to help. And I feel a bit mean about Tamara and Lachlan, because they’ve been flat out all day making pancakes, but they’re on welcome drinks.’

  Confusion crossed his face. ‘I don’t get it. I thought this was just a casual barbecue.’

  ‘It is and it isn’t. I thought tonight might be the perfect occasion for you to announce we’re pregnant.’

  ‘Really?’ He grinned at her, his eyes full of love and hope. ‘That would be fantastic.’

  ‘I know the secret’s almost killed you.’

  He bumped his belly gently against hers. ‘Longest three months of my life.’

  In the end, the decision to have a baby had been a lot easier to make than her decision not to have one. Claire still worried she couldn’t protect a child from all the awful things life might throw at it, but with Matt’s unwavering love and support and his family’s caring acceptance of her, the prospect of being a mother was a lot less terrifying. And she had dear friends. They were the embodiment of the saying ‘it takes a community to raise a child’.

  Over the previous two years, they’d all helped with the children. Initially, Claire, Layla and Erica had circled Sophie and Bec but as things improved, they’d given back, assisting Layla in the final weeks of her pregnancy when she was confined to bed rest. Claire had spent so much time with Harper in the last eighteen months, she and Matt considered her half theirs. Now they were having their own.

  She kissed him, giving thanks for having this man who’d proved stalwart and patient. ‘I’m lucky to have you.’

  ‘Yeah, you are.’ He laughed and swung her round, staggering slightly. ‘You’re heavier.’

  ‘Carrying twins does that to a girl.’

  He grinned widely, pride riding off him. ‘I knocked you up real good.’

  ‘You did, and that’s why I’ve decided to make an honest man of you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Honey, we’re getting married. That is, if you’re still up for it, four and a half years after you proposed.’

  ‘But … what about the paperwork?’

  Claire laughed. Usually she was the practical one and he was the romantic. ‘We’ll sort out the legal stuff next week. Come on.’

  She grabbed his hand and they walked outside. People stood chatting and drinking and kids ran around barefoot on the lawn. Erica waved from the end of the veranda, flanked by Layla, Bec and Sophie, all of whom wore pretty dresses and wide smiles. They looked suspiciously like bridesmaids. So much for Erica and Bec keeping things a secret.

  ‘Hurry up, Matt,’ Erica called out. ‘Get down here so we can start. I don’t want the champagne getting hot.’

  Matt’s parents, who were in on the plan, walked their son to the wedding party. Then Julie and Phil linked arms with Claire and walked her to Matt. When Erica asked, ‘Who gives this woman to this man?’ Julie and Phil said, ‘We do, on behalf of Heather and Ron.’

  Matt squeezed her hand and she squeezed it back, but not out of sadness. Today Claire was happy and everything finally felt right.

  When Erica announced them husband and wife, a cheer went up and champagne corks flew.

  ‘I love you, Postie.’ Matt wrapped his arms around her and gave her a long and lingering kiss to a soundtrack of wolf whistles.

  ‘I love you too.’

  ‘This is the first Australian wedding I’ve been to,’ Layla said later, watching some impromptu dancing on the lawn.

  Sophie sipped champagne. ‘They’re not usually this casual.’

  ‘The first time Claire tried to marry Matt, she’d planned a very traditional white wedding,’ Julie added, ‘but this suits them perfectly.’

  ‘And in most Australian weddings, the bride’s not preggers,’ Erica said.

  Bec laughed. ‘But this is Claire, remember.’

  ‘What’s me?’ Claire slid into a spare seat after relinquishing her husband to a game of bocce.

  ‘Breaking all the rules and having a shotgun wedding.’ Bec raised her glass. ‘And oh my God! Twins!’

  ‘That’s what happens when you start at thirty-three.’

  ‘Double pregnancy hormones. No wonder you were all soppy before the duck race, saying how proud of us you are,’ Sophie teased.

  ‘I was just softening you up cos I’m going to need help. I’m already worried about not having enough arms.’

  ‘I will cook for you,’ Layla said.

  ‘I’ll draw up a roster,’ Erica offered. ‘Between Matt, the Cartwrights and us, you’ll be fine. At least Matt doesn’t have to commute.’

  Julie smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to knitting beanies and booties for winter babies.’

  ‘I’m so excited for you,’ Bec said. ‘It’s going to be the scariest and most amazing ride of your life.’

  ‘Gee, thanks. That’s hardly reassuring.’

  Bec laughed and patted Claire’s arm. ‘We’re all here to pick you up and cheer you on whenever you need it just like you’ve always done for us.’

  And right then, Claire knew no matter what happened, she was in good hands.

  If you have been affected or are affected by family violence in Australia, the national sexual assault and domestic family violence counselling service is available 24/7.

  Call 1800 RESPECT (1800 737 732)

  If anything in this book has distressed you and you wish to talk to someone, call:

  Lifeline 13 11 14

  MensLine Australia 1300 78 99 78

  Or for information visit beyondblue.org.au

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book couldn’t have been written without a support team. Huge thanks to CFA fire captain David Webb-Ware who answered my many questions, gave me a tour of the Glenburn CFA and let me sit in Bert and turn on the siren. Thanks to the North Geelong Men’s Shed for their warm welcome and for chatting to me about their programs. The Geelong Central Nights CWA are a sensational group of women. Thanks for letting me gatecrash your AGM and later your craft night. The Victoria Police Film and Television unit were amazing, responding to my many and varied questions about police procedures, crimes and the law. A special shout-out to Acting Sergeant Adam West who went above and beyond, contacting me a month later when new information came to light. I couldn’t have managed the crime thread in the book without their help.

  Jamie Moran from Lonsdale Tomatoes briefed me on growing commercial hydroponic tomatoes. John Edmonds from Edmonds Honey explained about bees and Roslyn Groves filled me in on what’s currently popular in toddler and preschool land. Mel Scott talked me through fractured ankles and Ris Wilkinson (author Melanie Milburne) shared her Thermomix story. Tahlia Lowe and Matilda Currie gave me the scoop on Girl Guides and Rose Goodall-Wilson provided me with a sounding board. Brad Bolden shared his joys and frustrations as a stay-at-home dad, Lesley Menzies answered all my dog questions, Diane Green sent me in the right direction for the flora and fauna of the Otways and writing mate, Marion Lennox, came up with the perfect title. Thank you!

  Researching this book took me to some harrowing places and I heard some devastating stories. My heart goes out to the survivors of natural disasters who deal with situations most of us will never encounter.

  Writing a novel is one thing, polishing it so it shines is another thing entirely. Thanks to Rachael Donovan, Annabel Blay and Kylie Mason for editorial advice and for putting up with the occasional tantrum as I found solutions to some tricky edits. Thanks to the HarperCollins and Harlequin Books art department for their hard work on cover designs and to the sales and marketing team for getting the book out into the world and into readers’ hands. My agent, Helen Breitwieser, is a source of wise counsel.

  The Lowe men provided advice, listened to me rant about computers and the rainbow ball of death, and provided more meals than they probably ever expected to prepare. I like to think I’ve given them the opportunity to improve their cooking skills. Pekoe the cat added to the manuscript often, enjoying lying on the keyboard. Any random characters are courtesy of her.

  Last but by no means least, many thanks to my loyal readers who not only use their hard-earned money to buy my books, but make the effort to catch up with me at library talks and take the time to write to me and chat on social media. I appreciate your support very much.

  BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS

  For some people, support groups play an important role in their recovery from grief, loss and trauma. Do you think single-sex support groups work better than unisex groups? If so, why?

  Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is usually associated with soldiers who have seen active service. Do you think it is misdiagnosed in the general community and why?

  When a community suffers trauma, studies have shown that the rate of domestic violence rises, including in relationships that had never experienced violence. Why do you think this happens?

  Claire struggled to be accepted by her in-laws. Do you know anyone whose relationship has suffered difficulties due to interference by in-laws? How was it resolved? Did the relationship survive?

  Erica talks about how hard it is to break into the town when she hasn’t experienced the fire and she doesn’t know people’s stories. If someone doesn’t share their story, does this lessen their right to be upset when someone blunders in?

  What events in your town have pulled your community together?

  Family traditions are considered to be an important glue in families. What are your traditions?

  Is inheritance a privilege or a right?

  Catch up with Fiona Lowe’s bestselling novel Birthright.

  Here’s a sneak peek …

  CHAPTER

  1

  ‘It’s Sunday morning on Australia’s radio show.’

  The twang of a banjo exploded in Sarah’s ears, hauling her aggressively and abruptly out of a deliciously deep sleep. Worse than that, it imploded a wondrous dream of a place where she floated peacefully, bathing in all its wonder. A place no one expected her to juggle the transport logistics of bread and cheese, solve staffing issues, find missing wallets/keys/phones/items of school uniforms/homework—in fact, no one was asking her to do anything at all. It was her definition of bliss.

  She lay momentarily stunned, her heart pounding and her mind struggling to compute more than No! Too early! Go away! The realisation it was Mother’s Day dribbled into her consciousness more slowly, before jabbing her like the sharp end of stick.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why didn’t you check the alarm last night?

  She’d shared her life with Alex for twenty-two years and she was intimate with the fact that eighty per cent of the time he forgot to switch off the six-day-a-week radio alarm on Saturday night. So here she was awake in the dark at 6.30 am on Mother’s Day. Fabulous! The temptation to wallow in a seductive bath of ‘why today of all days?’ tugged at her, but martyrdom wasn’t a coat that fit. All her life she’d been a problem solver, a fixer—a woman who got things done. Sure, she was awake ridiculously early on a day that was technically ‘her day’, when sleeping in was an essential part of the manual, but was it an opportunity? Carpe diem and all that jazz? She smiled. This year, they only had one kid at home and she’d bet Gus wouldn’t be up this early, giving her and Alex plenty of time to celebrate.

  Rolling over, she moved to spoon her husband. Her arms touched warm but empty sheets just as Alex’s feet hit the floor with their usual thump. A streak of cool air zoomed in under the doona, skating up her spine. She sat up in the dark.

  ‘You’re going for a ride?’

  The sound of lycra snapping against skin answered her. She worked at not sighing out loud and actively bit off the words, ‘It’s Mother’s Day’. There was no point uttering them.

  When the children were little, Alex had helped them make her breakfast in bed but the moment they’d become teenagers he’d stepped back, saying, ‘She’s your mother, not mine.’ Apparently, Mother’s Day had never got close to an event for the Hadfield family. Sarah tried to take the same hands-off approach to Father’s Day but she was hopeless; each year she found herself reminding the kids it was coming up, cajoling each of them into making a card, and she always arranged a family outing.

  ‘Go back to sleep,’ Alex said, his early-morning voice raspy.

  The yellow light from his bedside lamp penetrated her closed eyelids, turning everything orange. ‘Argh.’ She pulled the doona over her head.

  ‘Sorry.’

  The light snapped off and as if that was their cue, the dawn chorus of raucous cockatoos screeched as loudly and as stridently as a fire siren. She flinched; the sound mocking her for entertaining thoughts of sleeping in. Alex silently patted her shoulder and she sleepily raised her head for a kiss. She missed and her cheek hit his shoulder as his hair brushed her forehead. Oh well. At least they were still trying after two decades together. It was more than could be said for many of their peers.

  Over the last few years, there’d been a cascade of divorces in Mingunyah. The domino effect had started after Bianca Russo drank too much red wine at a Rotary dinner, grabbed the microphone and announced to the room she was leaving her husband. More marriages went on to fail, and each time Sarah heard of another separation she found herself examining her own marriage. Alex didn’t seem to need the same reflection. Their discussion on the night of Bianca’s bombshell was a case in point.

  ‘You know what this means?’ Alex’s coffee-coloured eyes had shone with the same enthusiasm that had captured her heart two decades earlier.

  ‘That yet another marriage of people our age has hit the wall?’

  A momentary look of remorse crossed his face. ‘Yeah, that part’s sad. But their land abuts the farm. We could build a fourth dairy. Milk another two thousand goats and secure our milk supply. This is the next step in taking our cheese beyond Victoria.’

  It was a tempting idea, one that would free them up from relying on other milk suppliers. ‘They may not want to sell.’

  ‘Oh, I think they will. Ed paid top dollar for that place and it’s heavily geared. There’s no way Bianca will get her share of the marriage assets without them selling. And we’ll be waiting in the wings with an offer they can’t refuse.’

  ‘Look out, Australia,’ she teased, ‘Mingunyah Cheese is coming.’

  ‘We’re not stopping at Australia. Think of the foodies living on the West Coast of the US. They’ll fall over themselves to get their hands on our healthy, organic cheese.’

  As always, his excitement was both terrifying and infectious. ‘I always knew life with you wouldn’t be boring.’

  ‘Damn straight.’ He’d grinned and kissed her again before demonstrating exactly how exciting and exhilarating life with him could be.

  Back then, they’d thought the goal of entering the American market was the ultimate prize, but they’d been wrong—China was the crowning glory. They’d opened an office there and now exported their marinated goat’s cheese and sheep’s yoghurt. It was beyond their wildest dreams and recently, with a middle management structure firmly in place, they finally had time to explore interests outside of the business. Sarah was yet to get out from under her workload and family commitments but Alex had committed to cycling.

  He was a cycling store’s dream come true, from his state-of-the-art Italian, full carbon-fibre bike with its lights, computer and little solar panel for charging his phone, to his gloves for every season and booties with heated insoles. Given that winter mornings were below zero, it made sense. Sarah didn’t begrudge him the thousands of dollars he’d spent on getting kitted out—it wasn’t as if they couldn’t afford it. In fact their bakery benefitted from cycling tourists and skiers, selling them, among other things, marinated fruit muffins nicknamed turbo buns.