The one that got away, p.1
The One That Got Away, page 1
PRAISE FOR For Once In My Life
‘There is something special about Karly Lane’s novels. She inspires, uplifts, encourages, advises and even provides a heavenly escape through her fictional worlds where characters come alive and become friends we never want to say goodbye to … For Once in My Life is no exception.’ —Cindy L. Spear
‘Lane’s engaging storytelling instantly draws us into Jenny’s world … a compelling, fast-paced and engaging read with heart and substance, perfect for summer reading.’ —Better Reading
‘If you are looking for a good holiday read, then definitely choose For Once In My Life … sit back and relax and enjoy the characters.’ —Blue Wolf Reviews
PRAISE FOR Time After Time
‘Time After Time moves from a small country town in Australia to the red carpet of London and Karly Lane has woven a story of dreams, fashion, fame and second chances.’ —The Burgeoning Bookshelf
‘With a stunning second chance love story, a picturesque country backdrop, pressing rural community themes and characters that grow on you, Time After Time is another warmly-told read from one of my favourite writers.’ —Mrs B’s Book Reviews
‘Proving herself once again top of the game in this genre, Karly Lane brings us a tale that juxtaposes the high-end London fashion industry and a small-town community.’ —Living Arts Canberra
‘Heart-warming … an enjoyable read that will be warmly welcomed by fans of Australian romance writing.’ —Canberra Weekly
‘Karly Lane has a way of dragging you in and making you feel like you are a part of the story … It is a wonderful read.’ —Beauty and Lace
‘Lane vividly evokes Australian rural communities, and gives due recognition to its challenges, especially for farmers. Written with the warmth, humour and heart for which Lane’s rural romances are known, Time After Time is an engaging read.’ —Book’d Out
PRAISE FOR Wish You Were Here
‘A comely rural romance that encapsulates the heart and emotions of Australian country life … You can’t go wrong with a Karly Lane novel and this latest one was no exception. —Mrs B’s Book Reviews
‘It’s always a great day when a new Karly Lane book is released … Wish You Were Here has all the small town country vibes you could want in a closed door romance with a whole lot of heart.’ —Noveltea Corner
‘… a fabulous rural romance, the perfect book to snuggle up with on the recliner! Loved it.’ —Mrs G’s Bookshelf
‘With the magic of country atmosphere, a cast of incredible characters … true community spirit and a relatable romance, it has all the contents of an engaging read. You can smell the way of life, feel the weather and breathe in the fresh air as Karly’s inviting storytelling comes to life from the pages.’ —HappyValley BooksRead
PRAISE FOR A Stone's Throw Away
‘Fans will not be disappointed and new readers are likely to be converted … those looking for romance, suspense or contemporary novels will all find something to enjoy.’ —Beauty and Lace
‘With its appealing characters, well-crafted setting and layered storyline, A Stone’s Throw Away is an entertaining read.’ —Book’d Out
‘Karly Lane has delivered a wonderfully immersive novel with a highly engaging plot, gripping suspense and compelling twists. A Stone’s Throw Away is a story of courage, resilience and a passion for the truth.’ —The Burgeoning Bookshelf
‘I’m always highly impressed by Lane’s ability to write compelling, entertaining and emotional storylines and weave some of Australia’s history through her stories … an absolute treat.’ — Noveltea Corner
PRAISE FOR Once Burnt, Twice Shy
‘Well written, and bravely done … Once Burnt, Twice Shy is Karly Lane’s best yet, celebrating the power of community working to support one another in terrible calamity.’ —Blue Wolf Reviews
‘Karly Lane gives it her all in Once Burnt, Twice Shy … a story of faith, courage, strength and future prospects, Lane’s eighteenth novel is a sizzling summer read.’ —Mrs B’s Book Reviews
‘This book has a huge amount of hope after loss, a wonderful read.’ —Noveltea Corner
‘Heart in mouth stuff, readers. You won’t be able to put the book down till you know what happens to Jack and Sam.’ —Australian Romance Readers
PRAISE FOR Take Me Home
‘Full of romance, humour and a touch of the supernatural, this is another engaging tale by the reliable Karly Lane.’ —Canberra Weekly Magazine
‘Such a fun read … Karly has smashed the contemporary fiction genre with Take Me Home.’ —Beauty and Lace
‘Take Me Home is a delight to read. I loved the change of scenery while still enjoying Karly Lane’s wonderful, familiar storytelling.’ —Book’d Out
PRAISE FOR Something Like This
‘Another unmissable rural romance story of pain, loss, suffering and the power of love … Karly Lane is firmly on my must-read list.’ —Beauty and Lace
‘There is more to this narrative than rural romance; this is a multi-faceted exploration of loss, grief, families, second chances and courage … I loved this!’ —Reading, Writing and Riesling
‘An engaging story, set at a gentle pace, told with genuine warmth for her characters and setting, Something Like This is a lovely and eminently satisfying read.’ —Book’d Out
Karly Lane lives on the beautiful mid-North Coast of New South Wales, and she is the proud mum of four children and an assortment of four-legged animals.
Before becoming an author, Karly worked as a pathology collector. Now, after surviving three teenage children and with one more to go, she’s confident she can add referee, hostage negotiator, law enforcer, peacekeeper, ruiner-of-social-lives, driving instructor and expert-at-silently-counting-to-ten to her resume.
When she isn’t at her keyboard, Karly can be found hanging out with her beloved horses and dogs, happily ignoring the housework.
Karly writes Rural and Women’s Fiction set in small country towns, blending contemporary stories with historical heritage. She is a passionate advocate for rural Australia, with a focus on rural communities and current issues. She has published over twenty books with Allen & Unwin.
ALSO BY KARY LANE
North Star
Morgan’s Law
Bridie’s Choice
Poppy’s Dilemma
Gemma’s Bluff
Tallowood Bound
Second Chance Town
Third Time Lucky
If Wishes Were Horses
Six Ways to Sunday
Someone Like You
The Wrong Callahan
Mr Right Now
Return to Stringybark Creek
Fool Me Once
Something Like This
Take Me Home
Once Burnt, Twice Shy
A Stone’s Throw Away
Wish You Were Here
Time After Time
For Once in My Life
First published in 2024
Copyright © Karlene Lane 2024
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.
Allen & Unwin
Cammeraygal Country
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone:(61 2) 8425 0100
Email:info@allenandunwin.com
Web:www.allenandunwin.com
Allen & Unwin acknowledges the Traditional Owners of the Country on which we live and work. We pay our respects to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Elders, past and present.
ISBN 978 1 76106 613 9
eISBN 978 1 76118 889 3
Typeset by Bookhouse, Sydney
Cover design: Mika Tabata
Cover photographs: Ali Harper / Stocksy (model); Westend61 / Getty (background pier); Nature Peaceful, Charcompix, LUMIKK555 / Shutterstock (textures)
Glenda Gray, 18/7/1959–16/9/2023
A beautiful friend to many—deeply missed by all.
I was so grateful to have had you as my trusted advisor on all things rural and cattle related over the years. You have been such a wonderful advocate for farming and rural Australia, as well as a role model to not only myself but so many others. The world has lost one of its true angels, my lovely friend.
Gone, but never forgotten.
Contents
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
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
One
Alex Kelly drove over the last rise into town and caught her breath at the sight before her. The bluest of oceans, its shades blending in a wide arc framed by a strip of sand, row upon row of white caps curling as waves broke onto the shore in an endless, soothing rhythm as old as time. She hadn’t been back in Rockne Heads—or Rocky, as locals referred to it—in years, but the view was always the same: beautiful.
A small stab of pain went through Alex as a bout of homesickness flooded her. Home. The word echoed in the silence of her car almost as though it had been spoken out loud. But Rockne Heads wasn’t home—and hadn’t been for a long time.
As she continued along the road, her gaze fell on a large handwritten sign stuck to someone’s front fence: NO! TO ERMON NICHOLADES! Across the road was another one saying, SAVE OUR VILLAGE! She’d passed larger ones with similar messages along the road leading in from the highway and wondered what was going on. Something had clearly gotten up the locals’ noses.
She turned into her old street and drove along the familiar, narrow road to the lookout at the end of the small cul-de-sac. There were no cars parked there today, so she had plenty of room to turn into her driveway. In a few weeks’ time, tourists would be parked all along the little street as they stopped to take photographs or check out the surf. She hoped that wouldn’t be her problem—she wasn’t planning on being here that long. If everything went according to plan, she’d go through her father’s belongings and throw most of them out before giving the place a good clean and putting it on the market. It should only take four days—five, max, she decided. She planned on spending the rest of her three-week holiday somewhere restful, maybe a resort further north, before returning to the UK. She hadn’t had a proper relaxing holiday in years. She wasn’t even sure she remembered how to relax, to be honest, but it was high time she did.
The car air conditioner had lulled her into a false sense of security and the humid air raced in to slap her across the face as she opened the door. This was bullcrap. If there was one thing she’d never been able to handle, it was humidity. She’d become acclimatised to the UK weather during the six years she’d been working for the Department of Foreign Affairs in London, and she preferred it. Alex had moved around a lot over the last eighteen years, never really settling down; there were too many adventures yet to have to stay in one place too long, too many things to see and explore. But now she’d found a place where she wanted to settle and the only thing standing between her and buying the little cottage of her dreams was this place.
Four Winds had been in her father’s family for five generations. Her great-grandfather had been given the piece of land on the top of the headland by his father and it was passed down to her grandfather then her father before coming to her. Not that she’d wanted it. She wasn’t ungrateful, not really. It was … complicated.
She stood in the overgrown front yard of the white-clad house and sighed deeply. The front of the house hadn’t changed in the last eighty-odd years apart from her father installing the cladding over the original weatherboards. Built in the early nineteen forties, the cottage had replaced an older tin shed. Her grandfather had added on the back section of the house, sunken slightly so it formed a downstairs area with large, curved windows to take in the endless blue ocean below. The weight of all that family history was a heavy burden. Alex had always been proud of her heritage. She had roots here—she was connected to the land and to the ocean. Her ancestors were buried in the small, white picket–fenced cemetery situated on the next headland over. She belonged here and yet … she didn’t. Not anymore. She hadn’t in a very long time.
Alex inserted the key into the front door and pushed it open, breathing in the familiar scent of the house and feeling as though she had been thrown back in time. She could almost be stepping through the front door after coming home from school. The only thing missing was the smell of her mother’s baking or dinner cooking on the stove. She swallowed past an unexpectedly tightening throat and blinked rapidly. She hadn’t expected those memories to hit quite so hard.
Her parents had divorced when she was eighteen and she and her mother had moved to Sydney. A few years after Alex had moved overseas, her mother had decided to come on an extended holiday and it had been nice having her mum with her in London. But then, her mother had met a man who lived only a few houses down from Alex, and within six months they’d married.
She didn’t like to sound like a jealous daughter—because she wasn’t, she was thrilled to see her mother so happy after a long time being on her own—it was just that Bart came with three daughters of his own, who were all married with babies. And now her mother had grandchildren she loved to spoil, Alex felt she didn’t seem to spend much time alone with her anymore.
Alex really liked her new stepsisters and they’d welcomed her into the family from the very first time they’d all met, but she had nothing in common with any of them when so many of the conversations and activities were centred around babies and small children. There was only so much Wiggles a person without their own kids could handle.
She ran her fingers along the top of the lounge. There wasn’t much left in the way of furniture or homewares from when she’d lived here; that had all either been sold or donated to charity after her father died eight years ago. She’d replaced it with trendy-looking coastal chic furniture to better suit the holiday rental the house had become. It had been a nice little earner, too, in the last few years. It rarely sat empty, providing her with a side income that had allowed her the luxury of travel.
She let her gaze wander to the large windows that framed a magnificent view of the ocean. She’d grown up with this view and yet she couldn’t remember if she’d ever stopped to simply admire it. She’d probably assumed everyone had uninterrupted ocean views from their lounge-room window, and as she grew older she would have been too wrapped up in the latest schoolyard drama to pay it much attention. It seemed a waste to take something so beautiful for granted. And yet you walked away from it, she could almost hear her father’s gruff voice whisper. She hadn’t walked—she’d run, as fast and as far as she could, desperate to leave all the bad memories behind her.
Alex turned away from the window and headed back outside to the car to bring in her suitcase. The sooner she got started, the sooner she could leave.
Sullivan McCoy—Sully to his friends—waved the last guest off the boat before starting the clean-up. It’d been a great trip. The weather had been perfect, and he always felt good when his customers left with a camera full of memories and a couple of fishing yarns to tell family and friends when they got back home. These fishing tours had begun as a side gig for the off season when trawling was slow and had become so popular that it’d pretty much become his full-time job.
The success of his venture gave him the perfect excuse to step back from the trawling side of the business and take a well-earned break from the hectic life that went along with being a professional commercial fisherman. He’d spent years working twenty-hour days, weeks at a time out at sea, which had messed up his relationships and family life. Of course, he still went out on the boat during the crazy season that led up to Easter and Christmas when they earned the big bucks—it was all hands on deck during those times. It usually made up for the less profitable times throughout the year. Regardless of what size catch you came back with, the crew still needed to be paid, on top of the cost of fuel and food and equipment. It wasn’t always a great pay day when you owned fishing boats—not like the old days.
The McCoy name had been synonymous with the fishing industry around here for generations. It had also been very well acquainted with the law—and not necessarily on the right side of it, either. In his father’s and grandfathers’ days, the industry had still been the wild west, where pretty much anything went: no species was off limits, no haul too big.
Sully felt his jaw clench slightly and concentrated on relaxing it. His father had been old-school and, had he still been alive, he’d no doubt be giving Sully an earful about how he’d be doing things. ‘No bunch of greenie, degree-toting uni students are gonna tell me what I can and cannot catch,’ Sully could hear him say. Theo McCoy had been a hard man in every sense of the word. He was tough as old leather and had no time for weakness of any kind. Sully’s hadn’t been the easiest childhood—his mother had shot through when he was in primary school, taking his older sister with her. She’d died a few years back and he and his sister had only recently reconnected, but they were pretty much strangers with nothing but genetics in common.
