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remember she was in Linden Gully, let alone in the Fieldings’ guest room. God, how long had she been out? She groped around in the dark for her phone and clicked it on. Seven in the evening. She’d been sleeping for four hours. The deep-down bone tiredness was gone, but she didn’t exactly feel refreshed. Too many stupid dreams. She struggled to remember the details, apart from that last one, where she and Zach were getting married in a marquee here at the Fielding farm. When the minister said, ‘You may now kiss the bride,’ she leaned in to kiss him only to find it was Ryan kissing her back.
    She shivered at the memory and shook her head as if to physically remove it from her head. But the act was futile. Images of Ryan flooded her mind. His blue-grey eyes skimming over her, making her feel naked; the stubble that now adorned his jawline, leaving her in no doubt that he had left boyhood behind; the shy smile that hadn’t changed despite all the years; and those muscular arms lifting his daughter into the air.
    His daughter.
    The image of Ella brought Jo crashing back to reality. She pushed back the bedcovers and swung her feet onto the chilly timber floorboards. She had no business dreaming about Ryan. They didn’t inhabit the same worlds anymore.
    Jo sat at the Fieldings’ kitchen table sipping tea while she waited for Jenny to return with her ‘wedding stuff’. Steph had headed back into the pub to join Nate and the rest of the team as they celebrated their first win of the season. Jo had begged off accompanying her, citing ‘secret bridesmaid’s business’ as an excuse. The thought of another possible encounter with Ryan was more than she could bear.
    Nothing much had changed in this room since she was last here. The aged timber table bore the scars of family dinners, football-club committee meetings and countless cups of tea. Its faded mug rings and scratches were comfortingly familiar to Jo. The antique kitchen dresser still held the precious blue-and-white china Jenny had inherited from her grandmother. Jo remembered the day an errant football, kicked by Steph’s older brother Tom, sent a teacup hurtling through the air. Steph did her best to catch the cup, but it slipped through her hands and crashed onto the floor. Jenny chased Tom through the house with the broom and when he escaped to the yard she sat down on the floor and cried.
    Later, after all the broken pieces were thrown away, they’d all had a laugh about it, with Jenny doing a great impression of Tom’s face as he saw her coming for him with the broom.
    So many of Jo’s childhood memories were tied up here in this kitchen. Tomorrow she would head home to Yarrapinga, the house where she officially grew up. But it was Kallara — in fact this very kitchen — that her heart called home. It was here she’d learned how to bake fluffy scones and knit scarves for her Barbie dolls. It was Jenny she ran home to, tears streaming, when she got her first period at the age of eleven. And it was Jenny who explained the importance of safe sex, with Steph rolling her eyes in the background, on Steph’s sixteenth birthday.
    Jenny was the mother Jo wished she had. She loved her mum; of course she did. And she admired her too. But Katherine Morgan was not a mum you told secrets to.
    Jenny’s huffing and puffing brought Jo back to the present. She watched as Jenny staggered into the kitchen overloaded with books and magazines, a bolt of material and some kind of floral arrangement. ‘Here, let me help,’ Jo said, taking the floral piece from the top of the pile and placing it on the table.
    â€˜Sorry I took so long, love, I just wanted to make sure I had absolutely everything I need to get you up to speed. Did you bring your bridesmaid’s dress to show me?’
    â€˜It’s in my room. I thought I’d better show the bride first. Get her approval.’
    â€˜Pfft. If