Chapters (50)
- Cover
- About the Book
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by Sandie Docker
- Book Club Questions
- Welcome to the Kookaburra Creek Café
- Prologue
- One
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Mark crouched on the floor, his hands on Nicky’s knees, his eyes level with hers.
‘I hate to say this, but maybe she isn’t the friend you thought. She didn’t come to any of your events. She hasn’t answered your texts. She’s always been jealous of you. You’re better off without her.’
‘No.’ Nicky shook her head. Even if Jane was a little bit jealous, surely she wouldn’t … But she stared at the bright aqua hues of the perfectly clear ocean and the powder-white sand – the evidence was there in front of her.
Jane hadn’t wanted Nicky at her wedding.
‘It’s okay. Let it out. It’s not nice finding out people aren’t who you think they are,’ Mark said, wrapping her in his arms.
Nicky did let it out. In great big ugly sobs as Mark tried to soothe her, stroking her hair, whispering into her ear.
‘I love you, princess. I’ll never let you down like this. Come to bed, hey?’
Nicky shook her head. ‘I just need to …’ She didn’t know what she needed. She closed her laptop and tossed it to the other side of the couch. ‘I’m okay. I’ll be in in a minute,’ she said, squeezing Mark’s hand.
He kissed the top of her forehead and headed to bed.
Nicky lay on the couch, silent tears falling down her cheeks. As the hours ticked by, sorrow swelled and subsided at random intervals and sleep didn’t come.
At five in the morning she crawled across the couch and turned on her laptop. She opened a new document and started typing half-sentences that went nowhere.
She knew nothing she wrote that morning would be worth keeping, but she found some small comfort in the ritual.
Nicole spent the afternoon scraping the living room ceiling, but it did little to quell her guilt. She wasn’t proud of her behaviour that morning. Mandy had done nothing but extend a hand of friendship, and Nicole had responded rather rudely. She’d have to think of a way to apologise. Flowers? No. Not the right sentiment. What did her mum used to do when she was trying to mend a bridge?
She baked. Now that was something Mandy would probably appreciate. But Nicole’s skills in the kitchen were questionable at best. There must be something basic she could make. Like choc-chip cookies. How hard could those be?
The next morning she’d give it a crack. If it failed, no one would know and she’d fall back on the flowers option.