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for her, he had no idea who
she was or what she really wanted. She’d called herself a coward
for not speaking up with her true feelings.
    Then she’d called off their wedding.
    Again, he pushed the disturbing thoughts away. Once
he had found her, they would talk. One bridge, one challenge at a
time.
    “ Edward, I need to get to the
airport. I’ve emailed my assistant, Tammy, about rescheduling my
cases for the rest of the week. With luck, I’ll be back with
Elizabeth by the beginning of next week.”
    “ Stay in touch,” Edward said. There
was a fragile note to his voice, a reminder that he was on the
wrong side of seventy.
    “ I will. You and Vera take it easy,
okay? I’ve got this in hand.”
    He ended the call and pulled his overnight bag from
the top shelf of the closet. He threw in a couple of changes of
underwear, a fresh shirt and various toiletries, then he ordered a
cab and tossed his current work file into his briefcase—if he was
going to be stuck in transit for hours on end, he might as well be
productive. Four hours later he was in the air, flying to the other
side of the world.
    Funny, but he’d always wanted to go
to Australia. As a kid, his mother had been an avid viewer of
Australian soap operas, and he couldn’t hear the familiar theme
song to Neighbours without being transported back to the cramped flat where he’d
grown up. Shirley St Clair had loved the wide blue skies and the
brightness of life in Australia as depicted on the show and every
day she’d sit ensconced in her armchair, the tea pot in its cosy at
the ready, him at her feet as they watched half an hour of pure
fiction about a world that even then he’d known was too good to be
true. Still, it had made him want to go and see for himself. In the
back of his mind, he’d thought that it was something he and
Elizabeth might do together one day.
    He felt tired and grubby by the time he stepped into
the cool pre-dawn of a Melbourne summer’s day some twenty-four
hours later. He’d booked a hire car on-line and he made his way to
the kiosk and filled out the required paperwork. Half an hour later
he was on the road, squinting at road signs and trying to get his
bearings.
    Philip Island was an hour and a half’s drive out of
Melbourne. He stopped twice for coffee, and it was nearing nine in
the morning when he pulled into a parking spot in the sleepy
seaside town of Cowes on Philip Island. To his left was a silvered
wooden jetty, thrusting into sparkling blue water, to his right a
series of beach-themed boutiques selling bikinis and beach towels
and board shorts. He flipped the visor down to check his
appearance. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess, his shirt
wrinkled and limp. He smoothed his hair with his fingers before
flipping the visor back up. It didn’t matter that his clothes were
wrinkled and his eyes bloodshot. Neither of those things was going
to convince Elizabeth to come home with him.
    Loathe to leave his valuables in the car in a strange
town, he took both his overnight bag and his briefcase with him as
he headed for the Isle of Wight Hotel. The girl behind the counter
was very young, which was perhaps why she was happy to hand out
Elizabeth’s room number to a complete stranger.
    He glanced around the main bar as he followed her
directions to the stairs that would take him to the first floor.
The carpet was sticky beneath his feet and the air smelled of old
beer and cooking oil. A tanned, heavyset man with sun-bleached hair
raised a friendly hand to him as he passed the bar. Martin nodded
in acknowledgement before stepping onto the staircase.
    He paused when he reached Elizabeth’s room, aware
that his heart was pounding inside his chest.
    He loved her. He loved her kindness and her patience
and her quiet determination. He loved her elegance and discreet
dignity. She was one of the best people he knew. He needed her in
his life.
    He needed to make this work between them. Otherwise
everything he’d strived for