Rufus held open the limo door for her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Make him wait. He doesn’t get that nearly enough.’
He smiled, and it highlighted a long crazy scar on his right cheek, but Siena still smiled back. She had long since decided Rufus was a good person.
‘Max’s new training facilities are on the property,’ he said. ‘He thought you might like a tour while you’re here.’
She nodded, thankful that she had a bit of time to collect herself. Rufus drove her to the training rooms which were located in a big blue and white office building just outside the security gates.
Inside they were glossy, retro-looking and state-of-the-art. And, despite herself, she was impressed. Seven years before, she had done her training in a rented office block on the outskirts of a dodgier suburb of Melbourne. She and Max had both come a long way since then.
‘You are Siena Capuletti, aren’t you?’ someone asked from behind her.
Siena turned to find a group of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed trainees, all clones of Jessica of the bendy straw and juggling fascination. ‘Yeah, I’m Siena.’
‘When those new ads started running,’ the blondest one said, ‘we had bets going that you weren’t really a sky girl for MaxAir. None of us had seen you on our runs. So are you really one of us?’
‘Seven-year veteran at your service. I’ve done mixed overseas runs for the last three years, so maybe that’s why we haven’t met.’
‘I would just die to get an overseas run,’ Blondie said, her eyes misting over all dreamy.
And then Siena noticed the tiny diamond glittering on the young woman’s left ring finger. She felt a momentary shot of empathy for the poor girl. That was never going to happen.
A flight attendant’s life was transitory. Living out of a tiny suitcase. Working odd hours. No opportunity to settle down. All things which had attracted Siena in the first place. But for a young woman in love?
A MaxAir girl’s version of love was getting pinched on the backside by a commuter. Or being offered gifts of lost property by baggage handlers. Or having a guy in every port …
‘I know this seems silly,’ Blondie said, ‘but could I grab your autograph?’
‘Sure.’ Siena signed away. She didn’t have the heart to tell the girl how hard it was going to be.
‘Happy trails,’ the girls called out in unison as Rufus beckoned her to the entrance.
‘Same to you,’ Siena said before walking off into the bright afternoon sunshine, feeling strangely sad, as if the trail beneath her feet was like a pure beach after high tide.
The only set of footprints on her beach to date were hers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AS RUFUS took Siena through bright, cheerful downtown Cairns, she strove to remind herself why she hated this place so much.
They drove alongside the boardwalk, past market stalls, happy shiny people in bikini top
s, short shorts and flip-flops, and the massive created lagoon perched amidst parklands on the water’s edge. Sleek tanned tourists lolled about on brightly coloured towels while young families splashed about in the shallows. Eye-catching restaurants and cafés and shops lined the beachside road.
The place had really changed in seven years. And so, she was beginning to realise, had she.
She wasn’t the rebellious, confused, angry teenager she had once been. She had forged a great life for herself, a wonderful career, friends the world over, yet something was missing. Her wanderlust had taken her this far, but now her feet didn’t feel itchy any more; they merely felt weary.
When they neared a familiar T-junction on the outskirts of Cairns, Siena called out, ‘Rufus.’
‘Change of plan, Ms Capuletti?’
The guy was a mind-reader! ‘Actually, yes. I need you to do me a favour. I need to go shopping.’
A half-hour later, they pulled up outside Fourteen Apple Tree Drive. The large oak tree in the front garden now had a big hole in the side where Rick’s car had crashed up against it. Tyre tracks had made a mess of the perfect green lawn. And her rose bush had been cleared away.
‘Did you have something against that tree, Ms Capuletti?’ Rufus asked.
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew the number of times I fell from it as a kid, Rufus.’