to read them yet, but I’m sure they’re okay.’ He cast an eye over the mess of papers on his desk, then grimaced and patted his paunch as if he had indigestion. ‘The paper’s circulation is going to drop when you go.’
‘Don’t panic just yet, Ned. You’ve time to think about a replacement. I won’t be going till the end of the school term.’
He brightened a little. ‘That means you’ll still be here for Annie McKinnon’s wedding?’
‘Yes.’ Flinching inwardly, Sarah forced a smile as she remembered the excited phone call she’d received a couple of months earlier from Annie in Rome. She summoned a deep, calming breath to still the awful jealousy she felt every time she thought about Annie’s wedding. Why had both Kane and Annie McKinnon taken to the idea of marriage like ducks to the Star River, while Reid…?
No, she wouldn’t waste another thought in that direction. ‘Annie’s asked me to be a bridesmaid.’
Ned grinned. ‘That’s great. You’ll be a terrific bridesmaid.’
‘I won’t be the only bridesmaid, of course. Annie has a couple of friends in Brisbane she’s asked to do the honours, too.’
Ned beamed. ‘Better and better. I’ll bet they’re good sorts.’ He rubbed his hands together as if he’d just been struck by a brilliant idea. ‘I reckon a McKinnon wedding is a big enough stir in this little valley to make the front page of the Mirrabrook Star, don’t you?’
‘I reckon it is, Ned.’ Sarah tried for another smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
Later that evening, Sarah took a pad and pencil through to her study, a converted back bedroom in her little house beside the school in Mirrabrook’s main street. It was a little old Queenslander cottage, the standard design built forty years ago by the Education Department and she’d made it her own little haven.
Over the years she’d collected a modest assortment of antiques, handicrafts and artwork, including a handmade quilt on a wall in her lounge room, North Queensland pottery vases filled with native flowers, a bed with antique brass ends covered by a white hand-crocheted bedspread, and a couple of original paintings.
Sarah loved to surround herself with beautiful things. They lifted her spirits. Most of the time.
She doubted anything would cheer her tonight. It was time to make a list of all the things she wanted to take with her when she moved.
But she’d barely started before she found herself surrounded by memories, and suddenly the task seemed much harder than it should have been. Just looking at the cork board above her desk brought painful waves of nostalgia.
Every photo, every memo or scrap of paper with lines from a song was a poignant link to a significant memory. Good grief, there was even the programme from the last Speech Night she’d attended at boarding school.
That was the night she’d met Reid. When she was just seventeen.
Reaching up now, she pulled out the drawing pin that secured the programme to the board. It had been there so long it left a rusty ring around the pinprick.
She should have taken it down ages ago of course. The fact that it was still there was a very obvious symptom of her pathetic reluctance to let go of hopeless dreams.
Bending down to toss it in the basket under her desk, she hesitated. Big mistake. In spite of her resolve to forget, memories rushed back.
And, heaven help her, she let them…Suddenly she wanted to remember it all…just one more time.
Sinking into her deep swivel chair, she let the memories come.
CHAPTER TWO
SARAH met Reid in the School Hall where everybody gathered for supper after the Speech Night presentations. Because she was School Captain and had delivered a farewell speech to her fellow students that evening, she was kept busy for ages while everyone from the local mayor to the school gardener congratulated her.
Which was all very nice, but by the time she escaped to the long trestle tables where tea and coffee and cakes were served there was nothing left. Boarding school girls were piranhas around food.
Draining a heavy teapot, she managed half a cup of cool, brewed tea and found a dubiously thin slice of very boring sponge cake, minus its icing.
‘It’s a grim turnout when the most important girl in the school can’t even find a cup of tea,’ a male voice said close behind her.
Even before she turned around she knew the speaker was smiling; she could hear it in the warmth in his voice. Just the same, when she turned to look over her shoulder she wasn’t prepared for the full effect of that smile.
Oh, wow! Talk about gorgeous!
He had to be in his mid-twenties, which immediately set him apart from the schoolboys of her acquaintance. Tall, dark and, yes, yummy looking too—he had the bronzed, outdoorsy skin and athletic physique of a man of the land. And the most wonderful, iridescent, silver-grey eyes.
The moment she looked into them Sarah felt as if she’d zoomed straight into the stratosphere. Far out! If only she wasn’t wearing her school uniform! What a bummer to meet such a scrumptious guy when she was stuck in a crummy blazer, shapeless white blouse and tie, teamed with a too-long ugly grey pleated skirt.
Not that the clothes seemed to put him off.
‘We should be able to find someone to make you a fresh pot of tea,’ he said.
She dragged her eyes from him to cast a quick glance around the supper tables. ‘I can’t see any of the kitchen staff here.’
Without hesitation he picked up one of the huge metal teapots. His eyes sparkled with merriment and she fancied she caught the ghost of a wink. ‘Let’s go and hunt them down then. Which way is the kitchen?’
She gasped—not because there was anything particularly shocking about the stranger’s suggestion, but because she was so stunned that he was obviously using the lack of tea as an excuse to chat her up. But heavens, why not let him? Here she was, on the brink of leaving school, on the eve of womanhood, and she’d just looked into his eyes and seen a glimpse of a beckoning, enticing new world.
‘The kitchen’s this way,’ she said, pointing to a doorway in the opposite wall.
Holding the teapot under one arm, he placed a hand very lightly at her elbow. ‘Let’s go then.’
‘Right.’ Feeling just a little breathless, she hurried with him across the hall, making sure she avoided the gaze of anyone else in the room. It would be too bad to be called away now by a teacher or an inquisitive girlfriend.
Once they reached the relative safety of the corridor leading to the kitchen she felt more relaxed. ‘Do you have a sister at school here?’ she asked him.
‘Yes, Annie McKinnon. Sorry, I should have introduced myself.’ He switched the teapot to his other arm and offered her his hand. ‘My name’s Reid. Reid McKinnon.’
‘Hi, Reid.’ In an effort to suppress her mounting excitement her voice came out
