‘Yes, he probably has,’ Shea agreed again.
‘And I shouldn’t think Alex would be coming back here.’ Norah glanced concernedly at her daughter-in-law. ‘If he had, I’m sure he’d have already called in to see us. I am his aunt. And now that his father has remarried and is living in the States he really has no ties here in Byron.’
‘There’s still the cottage,’ Shea said absently.
‘The tenants are still there,’ Norah reflected with a frown. ‘David hasn’t mentioned anything about the cottage being on the market, has he? I mean, working for the major real estate agency in the town, David would surely know if a cottage a few doors down from our place was up for sale.’
Shea shook her head. ‘No. And he hasn’t said anything about the big white house changing hands, either.’ She set down the cookie tray and looked at the other woman. ‘Which is a little strange in itself, don’t you think?’
Norah shrugged. ‘Perhaps not. Maybe the new owners didn’t want any publicity. And you know that’s what a lot of famous people like about this area. The town closes ranks and can be as secretive and protective as a mob of minders.’
‘Yes, that could be it. Perhaps a pop star or someone like that has bought the white house.’ Shea relaxed a little, a ray of hope growing stronger in her heart.
‘Who knows.’ Norah gave a soft laugh. ‘Pop stars. Movie stars. All sorts of entrepreneurs. Stranger things have happened around here, you have to admit.’
Shea smiled faintly, too. ‘That they have.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Well, I think I’ll go and have a quick shower and then I’ll come and help prepare dinner.’
Two hours later Norah called from the front room. ‘Here’s David now, Shea.’
Niall made a noise into his book.
‘Did you say something?’ Shea paused and he sighed theatrically.
‘Is that David Aston again?’ he asked, twisting his pencil in his hand.
‘Yes. You know he usually gives me a lift to the Progress Association meetings,’ she replied perfunctorily. ‘Why?’
‘You’re not going out with him, are you? I mean, on a date or anything?’
‘No. Of course not.’ His mother frowned. ‘What on earth makes you ask that?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
‘Niall, what’s the problem?’ Shea asked gently.
‘I just don’t think I’d like you and David, well, you know. I mean, he’s all right I suppose but he’s kind of, well, a bit of a wuss.’
‘A what?’ Shea raised her eyebrows at the unfamiliar term, and Niall grinned sheepishly.
‘A wuss. He’s wussy.’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea what that means, Niall,’ Shea told him firmly, ‘but it doesn’t sound complimentary.’
“It’s not that bad really, Mum. Depends how you look at it. But he is a bit of a wimp and,’ Niall gazed up at her seriously, ‘I guess I mean he’s not good enough for you.’
‘Oh.’ Shea swallowed a laugh. ‘Is that right? And who, in your opinion, young man, is good enough for your aging mother?’
Niall grinned again. ‘Tom Cruise.’
Shea did laugh then. ‘Mrs Tom Cruise might have something to say about that.’
‘How about someone like Pete’s father then?’ Niall tried again. ‘He takes Pete fishing and stuff.’
‘A small problem there, too.’ Shea pulled a face at him. ‘Pete’s very nice mother.’
‘’Spose she is pretty nice.’ He sighed again. ‘Gosh, Mum! Are all the good blokes taken?’ he asked with his grandmother’s intonation.
Shea ran a hand over his fair hair and bent to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Rumour has it that that is unfortunately so,’ she said with a smile. ‘If I’m home late I’ll see you in the morning. OK?’
‘Sure. Have a good time.’
‘At a meeting?’ Shea grimaced sceptically. ‘But, to return to the subject of good blokes, on the remote chance I do see one, I’ll try not to let him get away.’
Niall chuckled and gave his mother a thumbs up sign. ‘Excellent decision, Mum. See you.’
Shea was still smiling when she climbed into David’s car.
‘What’s the joke?’ he asked, and she shook her head.
‘Nothing interesting,’ she answered a little absently and for the first time Shea found herself really assessing him.
David Aston was quite good-looking with dark hair and eyes and he was, she knew, a relatively quiet and unassuming young man.
A wuss? A wimp? Niall’s description came into her mind and she pushed it guiltily away. No, David was simply, well, somewhat dull. That didn’t mean he was a wimp.
Yet one thing was certain, Shea acknowledged. She knew she wasn’t attracted to him. To any man, for that matter. And hadn’t been for such a long time...
Shea shifted agitatedly and quickly forced her disquieting reflections out of her mind. She made herself make pleasant conversation to distract herself from her unsettling thoughts. ‘So, what do you think will be on tonight’s agenda at the meeting?’
‘We had a few points to discuss that were carried over from last month,’ David said earnestly as he turned the car onto the road into the town centre. ‘I believe I heard someone suggested picketing the council offices about the new sewerage pipes. I can’t say I find that acceptable behaviour.’
Shea raised her eyebrows. ‘So you’re not into passive resistance?’
‘Of course not. I can’t see any point in making an exhibition of one’s self. There are other more, well, urbane ways of doing things.’
‘Mature discussion?’ Shea suggested, and David brushed a hand over his dark hair.
‘Of course. People do associate picketing and rallying with the, well, the unsavoury hippie element. Don’t you think, Shea?’
Shea bit her lip reflectively. There were a number of alternative lifestyle groups in and around Byron Bay but Shea didn’t consider them to be unsavoury. She glanced sideways at David and saw his lips were pursed in disapproval. ‘I think most people would stand up and be counted if a point was to be made,’ she said carefully.
‘But there are proper channels. So distasteful to see all those long-haired, untidy-looking people standing about.’
Shea sighed. She really didn’t have the energy or the inclination to argue with David.
‘I know I’m a relative newcomer, I’ve only been here a year or so,’ David was continuing, ‘but I chose to come here because it was a quiet, beautiful little town with none of the so-called bright light attractions.’
‘Well, Byron Bay certainly is that.’ Shea glanced at the row of modest houses in the street as they drove past. She loved the place, with the laid-back lifestyle that was usually associated with Australian beach communities.
‘I saw Niall riding his bicycle down by the beach this afternoon,’ David had changed the subject.
‘Bicycle-riding is one of his passions at the moment,’ Shea replied thoughtfully and recalled her son’s revelations about the big white house. ‘How’s the real estate business at the moment?’ she asked as casually as she could.
‘Can’t