were how old?’
‘Eight.’
‘You lost your mum, and your dad shot her dog?’
How to say it? The day of the funeral, coming home, Billy whining, his father saying, ‘Get to your room, boy.’ A single shot.
He didn’t have to tell her. She touched his hand and the horror of that day was in her touch.
‘And I hit you over the head,’ she whispered. ‘And Henrietta said your wife left you. And your own dog died. If I were you I’d have crawled into a nice comfy psychiatric ward and thought up a diagnosis that’d keep me there for the rest of my life. Instead …’
‘How did we get here?’ He had no idea. One minute this woman was irritating the heck out of him, the next she was putting together stuff he didn’t think about; didn’t want to think about. This was his place, his beach. He’d come down here for a quiet think, and here he was being psychoanalysed.
He felt exposed.
It was a weird thing to think. She hadn’t said anything that wasn’t common knowledge but it was as if she could see things differently.
She had her arm round Horse’s neck and she was tugging him close, and all of a sudden he felt a jolt, like what would it feel to be in the dog’s place?
The dog whined. Stupid dog.
‘You want dog lessons,’ he said, more roughly than he intended.
‘Horse doesn’t need lessons. He’s smart.’
‘He’s staring at an empty sea,’ he said.
‘He’s devoted. He’ll get over it. Needs must.’
‘Says you who’s still pining for your creepy boss.’
‘I’m trying to get over it,’ she said with dignity. ‘I’m not sitting on the beach wailing. I’m doing my best. Don’t we all?’
She rose and brushed sand from the back of her trousers. With his collar released, Horse took a tentative step towards the sea. Nikki’s hand hit the collar at the same time as his did. Their fingers touched. Flinched a little but didn’t let go. Settled beside each other, a tiny touch but unnerving.
Settling.
Things were settling for him. He wasn’t sure why.
Maybe it was watching her reaction to what he’d told her tonight, added to what he knew local gossip would have told her. His mother’s death, his father, Lisbette, his mother’s dog and Jem … Her reaction seemed to validate stuff he tried not to think about.
Permission to feel sorry for himself?
Permission to move on.
Towards Nikki? Towards yet another disaster?
Not in a million years. He’d spent all his life being taught that solitary was safe. He wasn’t about to change that now.
But he could help her. It was the least he could do.
‘Horse needs a master,’ he told her.
‘He’s only got me,’ she said defensively. ‘Why are we being sexist? A master?’
‘I mean,’ he said patiently, ‘a pack leader. He’s lost his. He’s looking for him; if he can’t find him he needs a new one.’
‘Right,’ she said. ‘Pack leader. Can I buy one at the Banksia Bay Co-op?’
He grinned. His hand was still touching hers. He should pull it away but he didn’t. Things were changing—had changed. There was something about the night, the moonlight on the water, the big needy dog between them …
There was something about her expression. She was sounding defiant, braving it out, but things were rotten in this woman’s world as well. Nikki and Horse, both needy to the point of desperation.
That need had nothing to do with him. He should pull away—but he didn’t.
‘Attitude,’ he said, deciding he’d be decisive, and she blinked.
‘Pack leader attitude?’
‘That’s it. So who decided to come down the beach, you or Horse?’
‘He was miserable.’ She sounded defensive.
‘So you followed.’
‘I held onto him. He would have run.’
‘But he walked in front, yes? Team leaders walk in front. The pack’s at the back.’
‘You’re saying I need to growl at him? Make him subservient? He’s already miserable.’
‘He’ll be miserable until you order him not to be, and he decides you’re worth swapping loyalty.’
‘I shouldn’t have let him come down to the beach?’
‘There’s not a lot of point being down here, is there?’ he said, gentler as he watched her face. And Horse’s face. He could swear the dog was listening, his great eyes pools of despair. ‘He’s been dumped by a low-life. How’s it going to make him feel better to stare at an empty sea? It’s up to you to take his place.’
‘The low-life’s place?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘I haven’t had much practice at being the low-life,’ she said. ‘I’m a follower. Dumb and dumber, that’s me.’
‘We’re not talking about your love life.’
‘We’re not?’
‘That’s shrink territory, not mine.’
‘Like your stone wall.’
‘Do you mind?’
‘Butt out?’ She sighed and tried for a smile. ‘Fine. Consider me butted. What do I need to be a pack leader? A whip? Leathers?’
‘Discipline.’
She grinned. ‘Really? Don’t tell me, stockings and garters as well.’
He stared at her in the moonlight and he couldn’t believe it. She was laughing. Laughing!
The tension of the night dissipated, just like that. Except … a sudden vision of Nikki in stockings and garters …
He almost blushed.
‘I mean,’ he said, trying to stop the corners of his mouth twitching, ‘you tell Horse what you expect and you follow through. He’s hungry? Use it. Call him, reward him when he comes. Teach him to sit, stay, the usual dog things. But mostly teach him no. He’s galloping towards you with a road in between; you need
