Nikki and the Lone Wolf / Mardie and the City Surgeon: Nikki and the Lone Wolf / Mardie and the City Surgeon

The cray-pots weren’t hard enough.

He’d check the Lady Nell’s propeller, he decided. It had fouled last time out. They’d got it clear but maybe it’d be wise to give it a thorough check.

Ten minutes later he had a scuba tank on, lowering himself over the side.

He should do this with someone on board keeping watch. If there was an accident …

If there was an accident no one gave a toss; it was his business what he did with his life.

He had scores of employees, dependent on him for their livelihood.

He also had one tenant. Dependent?

If Horse decided to head for the beach again, he was bigger than she could possibly hold.

It was none of his business. She didn’t need him. The dog didn’t need him. No one did. Even if something happened to him, the legal stuff was set up so this town’s fishing fleet would survive.

How morbid was that? He was about to check a propeller. He’d done it a hundred times.

He needed to see things in perspective.

He dived underwater. Right now underwater seemed safer than the surface—and a whole lot clearer.

* * *

Henrietta left and came back with supplies, and Nikki was set. Dog food, dog bed, dog bowls. Collar, lead, treats, ball times six … Practically a car full.

‘You’ll need a kennel, but they don’t come prefabricated in Horse’s size,’ Henrietta told her. ‘I’ve brought you a trampoline bed instead. You’ll need to get a kennel built by winter. Oh, and there’s no need to spread it round town that I’ve brought this. Normally my new owners need to show me their preparations before I’ll agree to let them have the dog.’

‘So why the special treatment?’ Nikki had made tea. Henrietta was sipping Earl Grey from one of Nikki’s dainty cups, looking a bit uncomfortable. Maybe she ought to buy some mugs.

Maybe her life was going to change in a few other ways, she thought. Her apartment was furnished with the elegant possessions she’d acquired for the Sydney apartment. Some her parents had given her. Some she and Jon had chosen together. This teaset was antique, given to her by Jon for her last birthday.

The owner of a dog like Horse wouldn’t serve tea in cups like this. She hadn’t thought it through until now, but maybe she should shop …

‘I hate putting dogs down,’ Henrietta was saying. ‘Sometimes, though, I don’t have a choice. I can’t keep them all. And if potential owners don’t care enough to commit to buying or scrounging dog gear, then they don’t care enough to be entrusted to a dog. These dogs have been through enough. I’d rather put them down than sentence them to more misery.’

‘But me …’

‘You live with Gabe,’ Henrietta said simply. ‘You mistreat Horse, you’ll have him to answer to. Even if he says it’s nothing to do with him, he’ll be watching. And that’s the second thing. This place without a dog is wrong. Gabe needs a dog. If he gets it via you, that’s fine by me.’

‘He’s not getting him via me. This is my call. My dog.’

‘Yes, but you live with Gabe,’ Henrietta repeated, and finished her tea in one noisy gulp. ‘Living so close, you’re almost family, and now you have a dog. Welcome to Banksia Bay, and welcome to your new role as dog owner. Any more questions, ask Gabe. He’s grumpy and dour and always a loner but he has reason to be. Underneath he’s a good man, and he’ll never let a dog suffer. He treated Jem like gold.’ Then she hesitated. Made to say something. Hesitated again.

Nikki watched her face. Wondered what she’d been about to say. Then asked what she’d like to know. ‘Could you tell me about him?’ she ventured. ‘What happened to his mother?’

Henrietta considered for a long moment and then shrugged.

‘I shouldn’t say, but why not? If you don’t hear it from me you’ll hear it from a hundred other people in this town. Okay, potted history. Gabe’s mother died of cancer when he was eight. His dad was an oaf and a bully. He was also a miser. He forced Gabe to leave school at fourteen, used him as an unpaid deck hand. Maybe Gabe would have left but luckily—and I will say luckily—he died when Gabe was eighteen. He left a fortune. He left no will, so Gabe inherited. Gabe was a kid, floundering, desperately unhappy—and suddenly rich. So along came Lisbette, a selfish cow, all surface glitter, taking advantage of little more than a boy. She married him and she fleeced him, just like that.’

‘Oh, no …’

‘I’d have horsewhipped her if I’d had my way,’ Henrietta said grimly. ‘But she was gone. And Gabe took it hard. He still had his dad’s boat and this house, but little else. So he took Jem and headed off to the West, to the oil rigs. A good seaman can make a lot if he’s prepared to take risks and, from what I can gather, Gabe took more than a few. Then the fishing here started to falter and suddenly Gabe returned. He’s good with figures, good with fishing, good with people. He almost single-handedly pulled the fleet back together. But he’s shut himself off for years and so far the only one to touch that is Jem.’ She touched the big dog’s soft ears. ‘So maybe … maybe this guy can do the same. Or maybe even his owner can.’

‘Sorry?’ Nikki said, startled.

‘Just thinking,’ Henrietta said hastily, and rose to leave. ‘Dreaming families for my dogs is what I do. Good luck to the three of you.’

She looked at the teacup. Grinned. ‘Amazing,’ she said. ‘They say owners end up looking like their dogs. These cups fit poodles, not wolfhounds.’ She grinned down at Horse, asleep draped over Nikki’s feet, and then looked back to Nikki. ‘Poodle,’ she said. ‘Maybe now, but not for much longer. I’m looking forward to big changes around here. For everyone.’

Gabe slipped underwater, checked the propeller and inspected the hull. Minutely. It was the best checked hull in the fleet. Then he went back to mending cray-pots. By nine he was the only person in the harbour.

The rest of his boats were out, and he was stuck on dry land. Because of Nikki.

What was she about, removing his alarm? Telling Hattie to go without him?

He’d needed to sleep, he conceded. His head still ached.

Because she’d hit him.

It was an accident. She meant no harm.

She meant to keep the dog. Horse.

It was a stupid name for a dog. A dog needed a bit of dignity.

Dignity.

She’d have to get that fur unmatted, he thought, and getting the tangles out of that neglected coat was a huge job. Did she know what she was letting herself in for?

It was nothing to do with him. Nothing! He wasn’t going near.

She was living right next door to him. With her dog who needed detangling.

He’d yelled at her. Because she’d picked up a few rocks.

He’d behaved appallingly.

Why?

He knew why. And it wasn’t the memory of his mother. It wasn’t the dog. It was more.

It couldn’t be more. He didn’t want more, and more wasn’t going to happen.

It was dark. Time to head home.

Maybe he could take Jem’s old brushes across to her. A peace offering.