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Cal turned back to her. “That’d probably keep me in town for longer than I’d like.”

“Right,” said Lucy. “Um, listen, I really do apologize. It was all a misunderstanding.”

“I get it,” said Cal, who sort of didn’t. But she’d had such a morning already that a flying rugby tackle really was just par for the course at this point.

“Let me buy you a drink at the pub later, as a real apology,” said Lucy, a head taller than her and still looking down with those deep blue eyes.

And, much against her better judgment, Cal found herself nodding. “Yeah, yeah alright then.”

“Great, I’ll be there around seven,” said Lucy. “Um, better get back to it.” She turned and started to jog back to the newsagents and Cal watched her go.

MAYBE SHE WAS just putting off the moment when she had toopen that blue front door. But Cal made her way back to the pub, ostensibly to clean up her face and change her shirt. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but it felt full and crackly, and her cheek stung when she touched it.

Lucy. Now she was new. There had been no Lucys in Tetherington when Cal lived in town. Lucy with her bright eyes and generous smile. Lucy who, under other circumstances, Cal would admit to being very attracted to.

Not here though. Not now. No, no. That would never do. No, Lucy was just a lifeline, the one friendly face Cal had met since coming back, just someone to sit with in the pub and someone to talk to. Someone so that she wasn’t so desperately alone.

She pushed through the pub door.

Everybody needed one friendly face, surely?

“Oh my god.” Rosalee dropped her bar towel and hurried around the bar. “Jesus wept. Just look at you.”

Cal, who hadn’t been expecting this kind of welcome, froze as Rosalee put an arm around her waist and began to lead her toward a chair.

“Just you come with me,” Rosalee said. “Jesus. I’d never have thought it, so I wouldn’t. Just you sit down, just right here. Give me one tick and I’ll be back.”

Cal let herself be pushed into a chair and then sat, bemused, as Rosalee disappeared behind the bar. What the hell was going on now? Rosalee had barely had a kind word to say to her when she’d actually lived in town, and was obviously far from thrilled that she was back. Yet here she was, acting like… Ah. Acting like Cal was the walking wounded.

“I’ve got the first aid kit,” Rosalee said, bustling back around the bar with a white case and laying it on the table. “Just you let me get this cleaned up.”

“It’s fine,” Cal said.

“It’s not fine. I’m not going to pretend that I’m happy you’re here,” Rosalee said as she opened up the case and pulled out disinfectant. “But I’m not going to stand for this kind of behavior either. Who did this?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Is it not?” asked Rosalee. “This is going to sting.” She held a disinfectant soaked bandage to Cal’s face.

Cal winced. “No, it’s not. This was an accident.”

“An accident. Like when Emily Grant used to accidentally walk into cupboard doors?” Rosalee pulled out another pad of cotton wool. “Her old fella’s in jail now, by the way.”

“No better than he deserves,” grunted Cal. “But no, not that kind of accident. An actual one.”

“And pigs might fly.”

Cal took a deep breath and winced again because Rosalee was not a gentle nurse. Then she spilled the details of what had just happened.

A couple of minutes later, Rosalee was fixing a small plaster on Cal’s cheek and shaking her head. “It wasn’t a good idea, Callan, you know it wasn’t a good idea.”

“What? Coming back here?” Cal said. “It wasn’t exactly a plan. I had to come back, remember?”

“Why now? Why not three months ago when it happened? Or long before that, when your mother needed your help?” Rosalee asked, packing up the medical bag.

“My mother needed nothing from me,” said Cal. “Besides, she never said a word, never asked, and probably didn’t even know where to find me.”

“Because you ran away,” Rosalee pointed out.