Second Chance Lane (Brockenridge #2) - Nicola Marsh Page 0,3

the roadhouse after returning home from Melbourne as a terrified, pregnant twenty-year-old. They’d helped her convince Clara to offer a pay rise when she’d used the last of her savings and had a six-month-old to support. They’d wiped away her tears on Isla’s first day at preschool, school and, recently, high school. They’d been more of a support system than her parents had ever been and she loved them dearly. So why the tiny niggle of regret that everything in her well-ordered life was changing?

‘When’s the big day?’

‘In six weeks,’ Alisha said, beaming at her prospective groom. ‘We’re too old to wait.’ It made sense, as Tash knew Alisha wanted to have a baby ASAP—she’d just turned forty-three.

‘I’m the only old fart around here,’ Harry muttered, his bashful grin endearing. ‘I’m fifty-two, you know.’

Ruby laughed. ‘Yeah, you’re old.’

Tash added a guffaw. ‘Practically ancient.’

‘Hey, you two, settle down. I’ll have you know I’m extremely fit for my age.’ Harry flexed his biceps in a double cobra that had them all laughing again.

‘I can vouch for that,’ Alisha said, with a wink, and Tash groaned.

‘Too much information.’

Ruby’s smile widened as she said, ‘Gross.’

‘I’ve already typed the date into the computer to secure the booking,’ Alisha said, back to business. ‘Because there’s nowhere else we want to have our reception.’

Ruby’s grin faded. ‘Who’s going to cater? Harry can’t cook for his own wedding.’

Harry shot Tash a look she had no hope of interpreting. ‘Well, I was hoping Tash could use her influence with the bakery in town for our cake, and I’ll approach our favourite wine bar in Echuca to cater, if that’s okay?’

‘Perfect,’ Ruby said.

Tash nodded. ‘Sure, I’ll organise the cake. Just email me a few pics of what you want and your budget, and I’ll get it sorted.’

Harry visibly relaxed, and Alisha said, ‘Thanks, Tash, we knew we could count on you.’

Ruby rubbed her hands together. ‘Who’s up for a celebratory champagne?’

Tash had pulled a double shift and couldn’t wait to get out of here, pick Isla up from netball practice, and head home. But these people were family and she owed them.

‘Sure, but only half a glass for me,’ she said, holding her thumb and forefinger two inches apart. However, before Ruby could pop the cork, Tash’s mobile rang and her heart stuttered when she glimpsed Isla’s ID on the screen. Isla rarely called and especially not in front of her friends if she could help it. Which meant this call could be important.

She stabbed at the answer button with her thumb. ‘Hey, Isla, everything okay?’

The long pause made Tash’s fingers clench around the phone and press it closer to her ear. ‘Isla?’

A stifled sob had Tash on her feet in a second. ‘Mum, can you come and get me now?’

‘Absolutely. What’s happened?’

‘I pushed Dennie and she’s hurt and I’m in trouble and everything’s a mess.’

Tash’s gut churned with trepidation. Isla was a good kid, she never fought, which meant something had precipitated this out-of-character action. ‘Sit tight, honey, I’ll be there ASAP.’ She paused, adding, ‘Everything will be okay,’ before hanging up.

Alisha touched her arm and Tash jumped. ‘You all right?’

Tash shook her head, blinking back the sting of tears. ‘Isla’s in trouble, I have to go,’ she said, grabbing her bag and heading for the door. ‘Sorry I can’t stay for a champers.’

‘Go,’ Alisha said, waving her away.

‘Let us know if you need anything,’ Ruby added.

‘Thanks,’ Tash said, before pushing through the back door of the roadhouse and sprinting for her car.

CHAPTER

2

Kody had always lived on the edge. As a foster kid, he’d been the first one to pick a fight, to taunt a bully, to stand up to ‘parents’ who were supposed to care for him. He’d taken risks: with his body, his music. But nothing came close to the rush of arriving back in Melbourne for the first time in thirteen years. Crazy, because he’d been offered exorbitant sums of money to play concerts here the last few years; huge, seven-figure sums the other band members had urged him to accept. He never did, because Melbourne held nothing but bad memories for him. He’d lived rough in this city, had his heart broken, lost a child he never knew he wanted until the decision was taken away from him.

Melbourne was the pits, which is why he couldn’t stay to recuperate. Instead, he’d hired a car and made the four-hour drive north to the Murray River. Yanni, his drummer and best mate, had a holiday shack in