Free Christmas at Coorah Creek (Choc Lit) by Janet Gover

going to stay for it. He’s just extended the booking on his room at the hotel.’
    Ed looked up sharply.
    ‘How long is he staying?’
    ‘At least a couple more weeks.’
    ‘He’s probably staying because of that nurse. She’s very pretty and I think they may have something going on.’ His voice betrayed his uncertainty.
    ‘Oh, they definitely have something going on.’ Trish was obviously pleased to impart that news. ‘But does it really matter why he stays?’
    She was right. He studied her face and saw the kindness in her eyes. She was a terrible gossip, but she was smarter than she looked. And she had a heart of gold. Trish and her pub were very much the heart of this community.
           ‘All right.’ Ed gave way as gracefully as he could. ‘What do you need me to do?’
    ‘There’ll be working party over at the hall in a few days. They’ll need all the help they can get. And you had better show up at the party too or I’ll come and drag you down there myself.’
    ‘All right.’
    Trish nodded, obviously pleased with herself. She started to walk back to the pub, but stopped in the doorway. ‘By the way, you might want to stroll over when you close up. The beef stew is particularly good tonight.’
    Ed watched her retreating back and wondered what that was all about. It was almost closing time so he walked outside to lock the petrol bowsers. As he did, he looked across at the pub. Through the open windows he could see a lone figure sat at the bar. Ah. Now he understood. Trish was meddling again.
    He went back inside, locking the workshop behind him. Candy met him as he crossed the yard towards the house. She looked at him and whined softly. He patted her.
    Maybe Trish had a point. He turned around but changed his mind. It wouldn’t hurt to clean up just a little before he went to the pub.

    When should we expect to see you?
    The words on Scott’s laptop screen glowed in an almost accusing manner. The e-mail had arrived yesterday, but he still hadn’t answered it.
    We will take delivery of the two cars – the Lancia and the Mercedes in mid-January, and would be keen for you to begin work on them immediately to have at least one of them ready for exhibition in the summer.
    They meant the English summer of course. To restore either of those cars would take a good six or seven months of hard work.
    He looked at the signature and the distinctive logo. As a teenage rev-head with a passion for classic cars, he’d dreamed about working for a place like that. He could still hardly believe that one of the world’s great motor museums wanted him to restore and care for their beautiful machines. When he started his own small restoration workshop in Brisbane five years ago, he’d worked twenty hours a day to build his business. A chance meeting with the owner of that signature had resulted in this dream of a job offer.
    He was going, of course. He’d be a fool to pass it up. He’d already sold his workshop. That money would help him establish himself in England and start the new life he’d always wanted. A life far, far away from Coorah Creek. After all, there was nothing to hold him here. No-one to hold him here. Not even many memories. At least, not good memories.
           Still his fingers hesitated over the laptop keys.
    This trip wasn’t going quite the way he had planned.
    A few weeks ago, while selling his business and preparing to move to the other side of the world, he had begun thinking about what to take to his new life. And what he was going to leave behind. His few mates had already invited themselves to visit him in England. He’d never really had a serious girlfriend. He was leaving nothing behind – because he had nothing to leave.
    His mother was long gone. He didn’t know where she was or even, to be brutally honest, if she was still alive. Sitting there in his workshop, packing up his tools, another thought had struck with the force of a cyclone. At that moment, he also