The House At Flynn's Crossing

by Elisabeth Rose

  Some of the tension left his face. ‘Good. I don’t want everyone in town to think I’m a monster, including little kids.’

  ‘I don’t. They don’t. Lots of people don’t.’ So it wasn’t concern for acceptance by her children, he liked to be liked by his townspeople regardless of age. How disappointing, She didn’t think he was as much of a politician to the core as that.

  She also didn’t think he lacked confidence. Quite the opposite, but his question had exposed a surprising vulnerability before he covered it with the glib remark. Was he unsure of himself underneath the easy manner? Or was it all acting? He was a master of charm while she was groping in the dark when it came to establishing adult friendships. Men like Flynn were a foreign land to her. Filled with unknowns and incomprehensible situations and attitudes.

  ‘What do you think about this proposal?’ He eyed her squarely now, all traces of self-doubt gone and proving how right she’d been about her lack of understanding.

  ‘I don’t have an opinion, I haven’t been here long enough but I know Cath and Len are in favour of bringing more tourists to town.’

  The door opened and a couple of young women in hiking gear came in, faces shiny with heat and sweat.

  ‘Excuse me.’

  She grabbed a menu and went to greet them. When she returned, Flynn had finished his coffee and counted out coins for his bill in a neat pile.

  ‘They’re the sort of people we want to encourage,’ he said softly.

  ‘Hikers?’

  He nodded. ‘The National Park is a wonderful area for nature lovers, hikers and photographers and hardly anyone goes there. There are some spectacular views, waterfalls, orchids, rainforest areas … native animals … all right on our doorstep.’

  ‘I’d love to see it.’

  ‘I can take you in. There’s a walk the children could manage that goes to a very pretty waterfall. It’s a nice place to swim and have a picnic too.’

  ‘That sounds lovely.’

  ‘We could go this Sunday.’ His manner was offhand, as if he didn’t care one way or the other whether she accepted.

  ‘All right. They can’t swim yet though.’

  ‘That’s fine. There’s a little shallow area they can paddle in. I’ll pick you up at eleven.’

  ‘Thank you. We’ll bring the picnic.’

  ‘Mangoes?’ He laughed, relaxed for the first time this morning. She must have taken his mind off those women.

  ‘What else?’

  ‘I’d better go and do some work. See you later, Cath.’

  ‘Got a date?’ Cath asked after he’d gone.

  ‘It’s not really a date. He’s just showing us …’ She stopped when the grin on Cath’s face turned into laughter. ‘I suppose it is, sort of. But not like you think.’ Hot neck and cheeks again.

  ‘And is that what Flynn thinks?’

  ‘No. My kids are coming. I’m not the sort of woman he’d date. He’s just being nice.’ He’d go for the upmarket Brisbane girl who invited him to glamorous functions and introduced him to useful, interesting people. Wealthy people with power and influence.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘He wants to show me the rainforest and a waterfall.’

  ‘It’s a lovely walk, that one. Easy.’

  ‘You know what I think? He’s campaigning to get me onside for his resort plans. I said I had no opinion and the next thing he invited me to see how beautiful the area is and how it should be used more.’

  ‘I reckon he’s right. But I also think that’s not why he asked you.’

  Cath went to clear the table that Glenda and her cronies had finally left. Could she be right? No way. Cath was teasing her. Flynn was being quite attentive but she was new in town, a novelty, and she had nothing to hold his attention for much longer. Not if he had a high-flying girlfriend in Brisbane for personal activity. What did a single mother of twins have to offer? She had no money, not much education, and if he ever found out about her past it would kill any interest stone dead.

  No, her first instinct was right. He wanted her onside in the upcoming stoush over the development. Which was a relief because she didn’t want to have to deal with personal approaches from him.

  ***

  Unsurprisingly, Thursday’s meeting attracted a crowd of townspeople who loitered about the pub waiting for a chance to waylay Sean Baldessin and tell him what they thought of his resort plans. Not knowing what those plans actually were was no deterrent to the likes of Glenda Foley and her ilk.

  Flynn was surprised to see Rufus and Lauren from the cooperative standing in the shade of a street tree. He’d arranged that Baldessin would meet him and the councillors in the bar first and then have lunch in the courtyard garden, which had been closed for the private function. It would probably be better if they bypassed the bar and went straight through to the courtyard, given the mood outside. Although that would give rise to all sorts of conjecture and charges of secrecy.

  Not that any of it worried him. Antonia had agreed to go on a picnic and the image of her smile as she said yes would buoy him through any unpleasantness yet to come. It was his secret talisman, held close to his heart, giving him strength.

  Three of the councillors were at the bar already—Aidan, Margie and Judy. Margie and Judy perched on stools with untouched glasses of white wine while Aidan leaned against the bar, arms folded. Most of the tables were full, not unusual this close to lunchtime, but the low murmur of voices replaced the more normal chatter, giving the room a brooding air of unease. Young Martin moved about collecting empties while Sal delivered plates of food.

  ‘Hi, boss,’ she said as she passed.

  ‘G’day.’ He crossed to the bar with eyes boring into him.

  ‘Where’s this bloke?’ asked Judy by way of greeting. She was economical with words, very popular in the area, having been born and raised on a dairy farm, which she now ran, and didn’t have time for fools or people she considered gasbags. Flynn liked her but on this issue predicted she’d be very conservative.

  ‘He’s not due till twelve. It’s only ten to,’ said Margie.

  ‘If he doesn’t show up on time I’m going. Got better things to do than wait around for some city suit.’

  Flynn smiled. Judy had worn a dress with small blue flowers on it, white low-heeled sandals and done her hair up in a bun. Her regular attire was jeans and an old checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He wouldn’t have put it past her to turn up straight from the cow paddock in manure-caked gumboots. Perhaps the prospect of meeting a millionaire had softened her.

  ‘You look very nice,’ he said. ‘Blue suits you.’

  She gave him a flinty-eyed look but he signalled to Donna for a beer. Phil and Walter arrived together; Phil, puffing and wheezing as though he’d run all the way, Walter, the epitome of a country storekeeper, his usual thin pale self with wispy hair neatly combed and rimless glasses perched on his beaky nose.

  ‘Is Bill coming?’ Flynn asked when the newcomers had drinks in hand.

  ‘Should be,’ Phil said. ‘Where’s the guest of honour?’

  Where indeed? Flynn looked at the clock over the bar. Two minutes before twelve. If Baldessin stood him up he’d look a fool. A gullible fool. Aidan hadn’t said a word yet beyond greetings. He’d refused a drink and Flynn had no idea what he was thinking. Lauren and Rufus must be against any sort of development, judging by their presence outside and the stern set of their faces. Was Aidan here to block any chance of a deal on the land next to his?

  A group of people came through the door, Bill included. He marched straight to the bar while the others milled about looking for a place to sit. Bill gave the impression he’d been in the army, but he hadn’t. He was a retired public servant who’d worked in the State Government Revenue Office.

  The entrance had caused a stir. All heads turned, expecting Baldessin to appear. Did anyone know what he looked like apart from Margie and himself? They might if they read financial or business magazines, but he didn’t f
eature in gossip columns or social pages online or in newspapers.

  ‘Hello, Sean.’ Behind him, Margie’s delighted voice cut through his musings.

  ‘Margie, how lovely to see you again. You look great.’

  Flynn turned to see her receiving a kiss on the cheek from a dark-haired man in tan shorts and a white Polo shirt. Sean Baldessin. Where had he sprung from? Not that it mattered, the man had turned up, thank God. No wonder he’d walked in unnoticed. He looked like any other tourist stopping off for lunch in the town.

  ‘Flynn. Good to see you.’ His hand was grasped firmly. ‘Thank you for inviting me. Nice place you have here.’

  ‘Hello, Sean. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you come in.’ He’d forgotten the man’s soft Irish accent. That should count for something with Judy, her surname was O’Boyle.

  ‘I’ve been here for a while.’ He nodded his head towards the far corner.

  Spying? Checking up? Making a preliminary survey, taking stock and doing his own appraisal? A smart man.

  ‘Right. Let me introduce my colleagues on the council.’

  Sean’s appearance had taken everyone by surprise. The people in the bar who cared hadn’t realised who he was, the rest weren’t interested anyway. Those waiting outside to quiz him on the way in would be disappointed.

  ‘Shall we go through to the courtyard?’

  Flynn signalled to Donna and she nodded and disappeared into the kitchen to warn chefs Linda and Karl.

  When everyone was seated at the round table under the vine-and-flower-covered pergola, drinks replenished and Sal had taken orders, Sean said, ‘Let me just say how delighted I am to be here, regardless of any business we may undertake. This is a beautiful area and I truly think Flynn’s Crossing is a town you should all be proud of.’

  ‘We are, don’t worry about that,’ said Judy. ‘And we aim to keep it that way.’

  ‘I’m sure you do and I certainly don’t want to come in here and change things.’

  ‘What do you want to do then?’ asked Bill. ‘Why are we here?’

  ‘Perhaps we should eat first and talk business later,’ suggested Flynn.

  ‘I don’t see why,’ Judy said.

  ‘Neither do I,’ said Sean. ‘We all have things we want to say so I reckon we should get on with it.’

  Bill and Judy exchanged glances. Surprised? He hoped so. Sean had surprised him in Brisbane, and again today.

  ‘How long have you been in Australia?’ asked Phil.

  ‘Since I was a teenager. Still haven’t lost the accent.’ He smiled. ‘I’m a proud citizen and my wife is Australian. She grew up in Sydney.’

  ‘Can we get back to why we’re here?’ asked Bill.

  ‘Of course. I’m here because Flynn thought I might be interested in putting a resort in the area. I’m very interested in sustainable living and eco-friendly development so this would be an experiment, if you like. My idea, and this is purely an idea at the moment, is for a development in stages. Stage One would be lodge-style accommodation and camping for hikers and climbers and so on with a restaurant, cafeteria, information office, rest rooms and facilities for day visitors. Stage Two would be luxury accommodation. Perhaps cabins with a boutique hotel attached. I’m not sure. I’m thinking solar panels for power, eco-friendly methods of water conservation and waste recycling.’

  ‘That block you have in mind, Flynn, would never take all that,’ said Aidan.

  ‘I agree,’ said Sean. ‘I went out there this morning and had a look. Much too small and the National Park forms a barrier to expansion. The ideal place is next door. It seems to be a market garden from what I could see—I didn’t go in, of course—but according to the land division maps I looked at, the block is fifty hectares. That would be perfect. The river runs through it as well.’

  ‘It is perfect and I’m a part owner,’ said Aidan. ‘Unfortunately we have no intention of selling at the moment. Or subdividing.’

  Sean nodded. ‘I understand. We may be able to come to some future agreement.’

  Flynn looked at Aidan. He sat unmoving, still with that impassive expression. He picked up his water glass and downed half in one swallow.

  ‘I reckon it sounds brilliant,’ said Phil. ‘Not taking over the co-op,’ he said hastily, ‘But the lodge idea. There’s nothing like that here at the moment and we have the most spectacular scenery hardly anyone can enjoy. We don’t even have a decent camping ground.’

  ‘There’s a fair bit of land for sale in the area,’ said Walter. ‘You should have a look around for somewhere else.’ Most of it was farming land too far from the National Park to be attractive to Sean, or in parcels too small to be useful.

  ‘I plan to,’ said Sean. ‘I think Phil is right. And Flynn and Margie agree with us. This town could really benefit from my proposal.’

  ‘And who would benefit most?’ asked Judy.

  ‘Me, of course,’ said Sean and burst into a rich, genuine laugh. To Flynn’s amazement, Judy joined in with her own cackle. Even Bill and Aidan smiled.

  ‘At least you’re honest,’ she said.

  ‘You can say and think whatever you like about me but I’m an honest man, you can rely on that.’

  ‘And one who gets his own way,’ added Bill.

  ‘Usually. Flynn’s Crossing is my preference but there are other areas I’m considering. On the far side of Kurrajong for example—the town of Whiterock has a very nice site but access to the National Park isn’t as good.’

  Flynn met Margie’s eye. He knew exactly what she was thinking. No way would they sit back and let the Whiterock residents benefit from what was originally their own idea.

  ***

  Mrs Birdie phoned Antonia on Friday afternoon to pin her down for the recorder group.

  ‘When are you available?’ she said, happily assuming Antonia hadn’t had a change of mind since her initial enquiry.

  ‘It would have to be on a Monday because I’m at the cafe on the other days.’ And she had her first appointment with her new therapist, Anita, at ten on Monday morning.

  ‘Oh good. Shall we say Mondays straight after lunch for forty minutes? That’s one-thirty. You’ll be able to use the hall.’

  ‘How many children will there be?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ll be sending notes home about it and letting them all know you’re available to teach recorder, and flute as well. We’ll only offer it to the seniors at first. You can do that either at the school or at home after school. Which would you prefer?’

  ‘At home, but I could take some at school on the Monday.’

  ‘All right. Can I give them your phone number?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’ll aim to start the following week.’

  ‘All right. Thank you.’

  ‘Thank you, Antonia. I’m very excited about this. Music is so important.’

  Antonia hung up with far less excitement than Mrs Birdie and the feeling she’d been railroaded by a very skilful operator. She’d never taught anything in her life. She had no idea how much to charge for lessons and where she could get hold of music; her own teacher had used the standard flute books, which had given her a thorough grounding and still had. She’d have to talk to Jax and soon. It had slipped right out of her mind.

  But even though the ensemble at school would be voluntary, the lessons wouldn’t be. Even a few students would put welcome extra dollars in her pocket.

  All in all, their first week at school and work had been very successful. Sarah and Jacob loved Miss Armstrong and had already made friends with their classmates who regarded twins as an extremely interesting phenomenon. As she’d told Flynn, Simon was becoming a natural part of their lives and they accepted him as their daddy. She knew they discussed things in bed at night and on this had come to a unanimous decision—they liked him. Having a proper daddy was important for them at school. She’d overheard Sarah telling one of her new friends that her daddy grew yummy vegetables and had showed her how to do it.

  T
he picnic with Flynn had a mixed reception. The idea of a picnic was fun but Flynn was still a vague quantity, not actively disliked or feared but not accepted wholeheartedly.

  ‘Can Daddy come too?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘I don’t think so. Flynn asked us. He wants to show us the waterfall.’

  ‘I like picnics,’ said Jacob. They hadn’t been on a picnic until last year when Connor and Jax took the family to the beach. Sitting on a blanket, eating food from a basket, was the biggest novelty of their lives to that point and an outing they’d begged to do again and again.

  ‘We’re in charge of the food,’ said Antonia. ‘What should we take?’

  ‘Cake,’ said Sarah. ‘Make a chocolate cake.’

  ‘Ice-cream,’ said Jacob.

  ‘We’d need an esky to take ice-cream but we don’t have one.’

  ‘Chips.’

  ‘Sausages.’

  ‘Chocolate biscuits.’

  ‘Lollies.’

  The suggestions came pouring out amid escalating giggles until Antonia put up her hands. ‘Okay. Enough silliness. I’ll do the picnic food but there’ll be yummy things for you to eat.’

  ‘Goody.’ Sarah clapped her hands.

  ‘Can we go on a picnic with Daddy another day?’ asked Jacob.

  ‘Of course we can. We’re going to the markets with him soon. Remember?’

  Why did the thought of a picnic with Flynn give her little shivers of anticipation and delight, whereas going to the markets with Simon, while pleasurable, would be like going out with her brother?

  The markets! When were they held? Hadn’t Simon said the second Sunday of the month? That would make it this coming Sunday.

  Who would be the easiest to turn down? Which outing would she prefer?

  Chapter 9

  Flynn drove to Antonia’s house on Sunday with an unusual fluttery sensation in his stomach. Nerves coupled with the notion that this really was the wrong thing to be doing. Apart from any misgivings on his own behalf; namely, that he’d decided not to indulge this ridiculous crush and had completely failed, Antonia was Simon’s friend and the children were his children. What would his thoughts be on Flynn taking the family out for the day? A niggling voice kept insisting Antonia had agreed and not only that, she’d seemed happy to accept the invitation so whatever Simon thought didn’t matter. But it did. Poaching another man’s girl was never right and in this town at this moment in time it could be disastrous.