Orphan Under the Christmas Tree. Meredith Webber
beautiful not to have been snapped up by some lucky man!’
Her brain misfired, synapses missing, catching in the wrong places, so she answered far too brightly.
‘Hardly snapped up—far too busy playing the field! Wasn’t it you who used to quote that tired old saying about why buy a book when you can join a library?’
She flashed a brilliant smile and pulled Tom forward.
‘Tom’s more a set of encyclopaedia than a single book. Nat Williams, meet Tom Cooper.’ And for extra effect she pressed a kiss on Tom’s cheek, branding it with a scarlet imprint, then reaching into his pocket, her mind reeling at her own outrageous behaviour, to find his handkerchief to wipe it off.
Fortunately for her peace of mind, because she was too shocked by how far she’d already gone to consider any further conversation, Jo’s new fiancé, Cam, was a mad keen surfer and as soon as Jo introduced him to Nat, Cam commandeered the local surfing superstar, edging him away from the little group to talk waves and beaches and barrels and other surfing stuff.
Which left Lauren to face her best friend.
‘What is going on?’ Jo demanded. ‘And don’t tell me Tom knew you were going to introduce him like that. An encyclopaedia from the lending library! You made him sound like a hooker—or whatever the male equivalent of a hooker is. I was looking at him when you said it and he was as shocked as I was.’
‘Nothing’s going on,’ Lauren muttered, not able to even glance in Tom’s direction, fearful of the disgust she might see.
‘No?’ Jo persisted.
‘Of course not! I panicked a bit, that’s all,’ she muttered angrily. ‘Let’s leave it, shall we?’
‘Actually, I thought the encyclopaedia bit was great—heftier, more oomph, than an ordinary novel. And I don’t know what they call the male equivalent of hookers—hooksters, do you think?’
Tom had materialised beside them, taking Lauren’s hand in his and squeezing her fingers in the most comforting way as he joked about Jo’s objections.
Still clasping Lauren’s hand in his big, warm paw, he turned to Jo.
‘Okay, Jo?’
Before Jo could reply—not that there was anything she could say now Tom had taken the wind from her sails—the mayor stepped up to the microphone and was urging everyone to take their seats. Tom tucked his hand beneath Lauren’s elbow and steered her after Jo and Cam towards some spare seats in the fourth row of the temporary stands.
‘I am sorry, Tom,’ Lauren whispered to him. ‘I don’t know what came over me, and Jo was right, I made you sound cheap. The whole scenario was stupid—I can’t believe I fell apart the way I did back at the hospital and put you in that position.’
‘Hush,’ he said. ‘No talking. We’re here to be an audience to the great and good of Crystal Cove, but do feel free to reach into my pocket for a handkerchief any time!’
For the second time in umpteen years, Lauren felt a blush creeping into her cheeks, but before she could apologise again, Tom was shushing her, whispering in her ear that they could talk about it later, not, he’d added, that there was anything to talk about.
Although they would talk, Tom added to himself. Lauren was his friend and for that reason he was very eager to find out just what the golden boy of Australian surfing had done to Lauren in the past to send the normally calm, cool and collected woman into such a panic. The Lauren he’d seen tonight was so unlike the woman he’d come to know during his time in the Cove that he could barely believe it was the same person.
The mayor finished her speech by introducing ‘someone who needs no introduction to most Cove residents, world surfing champion, Nat Williams’.
The crowd gathered in the park and spilling out onto the beach let out a collective roar of approval. It wasn’t often the sleepy seaside hamlet had something to celebrate.
Nat Williams acknowledged the applause very graciously, then brought another roar of approval when he said, ‘It’s great to be home and to see all my old mates again. There’s no place in the world like the Cove.’
In fact, Tom decided as the big tree began to rise into position, it was obvious the people in the crowd were more excited about Nat’s return than about the tree.
He peered down towards the front row of seats, picking out the blond head of the surfing great. Two small children sat beside him, and next to them a lovely brunette, long, dark locks flowing around her shoulders. She stood out from the crowd not only for her good looks but because of her clothes, a long-sleeved shirt and jeans when most of the women present, if they weren’t still in swimming costumes with a sarong wrapped over them, were wearing strappy tops or dresses, minimal clothing as the day had been hot and the nor’ easterly hadn’t come in to bring relief.
He felt Lauren shift on the bench beside him and turned to see that she, too, was looking towards Nat Williams’s wife.
And frowning.
Okay, so putting two and two together was easy enough—they’d had a past relationship, Nat and Lauren—but knowing Lauren as he did, he couldn’t understand that she hadn’t sorted herself out by now. She was one of the most sensible people he knew and her training as a psychologist must surely have helped her move on, but her reaction to the thought of seeing Nat again had been disturbing.
Could she still fancy herself in love with him that she was frowning at his wife?
Well, that might explain why she hadn’t accepted his invitation to go out.
Although he doubted anyone as sensible and together as Lauren could still be clinging to some long-gone love.
Not knowing anything of love except that for its destructive powers, he couldn’t really judge, but he had always pictured it like a fire—yep, a destructive force—but if a fire wasn’t fed it died out—he knew that side of love as well.
So surely Lauren’s feelings for Nat, unnurtured for however many years, should have died out.
His ponderings stopped at that point as an ominous creaking from somewhere beneath the temporary stand warned him of imminent danger. The creak was followed by a screech as if metal components were being wrenched apart.
‘Get everyone off the stands,’ he yelled, as he felt the faintest of movements beneath his feet.
‘And everyone away from underneath or near them.’ Fraser Cameron shouted his own caution. Cam was already guiding Jo towards the side aisle, telling people who were close to the edge on the lower seats to slide under the railing and jump. It wasn’t far, less than two metres, but Cam was obviously thinking of lightening the weight on the straining scaffolding underneath.
Tom urged Lauren to follow Jo, telling her to make sure everyone was clear on that side, then he began ushering the people sitting in front of him off the stands. The important people on the platform, which must have been more stable, were turning around, disbelieving and bewildered by the panic building behind them.
As the noise beneath became more tortured, metal bracing twisting and wrenching from its brackets, the noise above increased, so the aisles were jammed and people were jumping from the top level, way too high, while those on the platform remained in their seats, stunned into immobility by their disbelief that the stands could possibly be collapsing.
Tom thrust through the throng, ignoring yells of protest at his actions, and grabbed Helene, pushing her towards the edge of the platform.
‘Jump,’ he ordered. ‘You’ve all got to jump. If the stands collapse all those behind you will come down on top of you, burying you and suffocating you.’
He grabbed the two Williams children, one under each arm, and hurtled to the edge of the stage, passing them down into the arms of a couple of helpers who’d appeared from the crowd below.
‘Take