‘I reckon that’s about perfect.’
She started at the sound of his voice and looked back at him with a quizzical smile. ‘How long have you been watching me?’
‘Long enough.’ His gaze remained on her drawing. ‘You really do know what you’re doing, don’t you?’
‘I’m learning,’ she said softly, and closed the sketchbook. ‘When I get back to England I’ll use these drawings to help me model the sculpture.’ She looked at the scene before her and let her gaze drift to the blossom in the orchard, the dark hues of the purple-shadowed mountain and the profound green of the untamed bush. ‘It’s at times like this I wish I could capture all of it,’ she sighed, ‘but there isn’t a canvas big enough.’
There was a sadness behind his smile that tugged at her heart. He held out his hand. ‘If you stayed longer you might manage to do most of it.’
‘You know I can’t.’ She looked into his eyes as he drew her to her feet. His touch and the nearness of him made her breathless, and as they stood there in the lengthening shadows it was as if the world encompassed only the two of them.
His large hand folded around her fingers and she felt more alive at this moment than she’d ever been. She looked up at him, willing him to kiss her.
His lips touched hers and she felt a jolt of desire and longing as she leant into him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, hastily moving away and dropping her hand. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘I was rather enjoying it,’ she breathed, the warmth and desire still coursing through her as she closed the gap between them.
His breath stirred her hair and eyelashes, his chest rising and falling as his heartbeat raced.
Lulu yearned to feel his strong arms around her, his fingers in her hair, his kiss on her mouth. She wanted to be crushed to him, to feel his heart beating against hers, to know his desire was as great as hers – and to rake her fingers down his back and feel the heat of skin against skin. She swayed towards him.
He took a step back, his strong hands holding her from him. ‘We must not do this, Lulu,’ he said, his voice rough with emotion.
‘Why?’ She felt suddenly stranded and shy.
‘It wouldn’t be right to start something we have no chance of taking further,’ he said hoarsely. He glanced over her shoulder. ‘And I don’t think you’d appreciate having such an audience.’
She suddenly realised there was an interested line of stable hands lolling about in the nearby yard, and blushed furiously.
He took her hand and kissed the palm, his eyes as dark as molten chocolate. ‘I think we should go in for dinner. The bell rang at least half an hour ago.’
Friday, Hobart
The northern suburb of Glenorchy was home to Elwick Racecourse and Showground. It had views over the River Derwent to the Meehan Range in the east and the magnificent cloud-veiled Mount Wellington to the west.
It was early morning, the horses had been exercised and spelled, and Joe wanted to walk the course with Bob and Eliza before the race meeting the next day. The stable hands were hitching a ride in the back, for an outing to Elwick was a rare pleasure, and not to be missed.
As he drove through the gates past the busy showground and into the almost deserted parking area, he tried to put Lulu out of his mind. There was work to be done and he had to concentrate – but it was difficult knowing she was near, for the memory of their fleeting kiss still lingered and taunted him.
He climbed down from the ute as Eliza pulled up next to him. He waited until the three young women alighted, and couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in the place as they looked around. ‘What do you think?’
Lulu’s eyes shone. ‘I think it’s wonderful, and I particularly like the grandstand – it’s very … grand.’
He laughed. ‘That’s Hobart’s pride and joy, built towards the end of the last century when the course was first opened. There’s been talk of pulling it down and building another, but I reckon the old place will still be standing a hundred years from now.’
She eyed the brick building with its ironwork veranda railings and curious tower that rounded off one end. ‘The Victorians certainly knew how to build things to last, but their style is a little too fanciful for my taste.’ She grinned. ‘But it is great fun – no wonder Hobart is proud of it.’
‘I need to talk to the clerk and check out a few things before we walk the course. Eliza wants to come with me to sort out stabling for Moonbeam, so you’ll be on your own for a while. Will you be right until I get back?’
‘Of course,’ she replied, relieved Eliza would be occupied elsewhere – but unnerved by the fact she would be with Joe. ‘Dolly and I are curious as to what’s going on over there.’ She pointed to a large area beyond the track which was fluttering with bunting.
‘That’s the showground,’ Joe replied, as he squinted into the sun. ‘There must be a gymkhana or something going on.’ He frowned. ‘Perhaps I should get one of the stable hands to go with you?’
‘We don’t need a babysitter,’ retorted Lulu. ‘It’s hardly a trek to outer Mongolia.’
‘I’d prefer you weren’t left on your own,’ he said firmly, and beckoned to one of the men lolling against the ute. ‘Charlie here will escort you.’ He tipped his hat and strode away with Eliza before they could reply.
‘Well, really,’ huffed Lulu.
‘I reckon he just wants to make sure you ladies don’t get lost,’ drawled Charlie, a broad-shouldered man of middle years with the face of a boxer who’d had one too many fights. He lit a smoke, cupping his hands around the match.
‘I hardly think we’ll get lost between here and there,’ muttered Dolly crossly.
Charlie eyed the high-heeled shoes, his grin exposing tombstone teeth. ‘But you might need help with them fancy footwear,’ he replied. ‘Don’t worry, Miss, I’ll carry you over the muddy bits so you don’t get stuck.’
Lulu smothered a giggle. ‘Come on, Dolly. You never know, you might enjoy it.’
‘I doubt it,’ she muttered, as they linked arms and walked across the grass. ‘He’s more Lon Chaney than Douglas Fairbanks.’
Lulu giggled. ‘Shh, he’ll hear you.’
‘I’m surprised he can hear anything through those cauliflower ears,’ she giggled back.
They made their precarious way over the long grass and rutted pathways to the showground. As they drew nearer, they could hear the sound of a brass band and someone’s distorted voice speaking through a loudhailer. Cars, buggies, horseboxes and trucks were parked on the far side of a large showjumping arena, next to which lay the dressage ring.
Lulu clutched Dolly’s arm. ‘My goodness,’ she said, ‘it’s years since I attended one of these.’ She looked around at the bustle surrounding the field where horses and riders were preparing for competition. ‘Let’s find a seat and watch for a while. I’ve always enjoyed the dressage.’
*
He’d found the ideal place to watch her, and as he stood in the shadow of the stands where she sat in the front row with her friend, he knew she wouldn’t see him. He tugged the brim of his hat, dug his hands in his pockets and settled down to wait. It was mildly irritating that Joe Reilly had sent that bruiser to watch over her, and that she was never on her own, but the opportunity would surely come in the next two days. All he had to do was be patient.
*
While Dolly was deeply immersed in the programme for the day, Lulu enjoyed sitting in the sun beneath her Japanese parasol in quiet contemplation of the beautifully trained, sleek horses performing like dancers in the ring.
The pleasant scene brought back happy memories of her and Clarice attending such events in the north after dearest Eunice had died. It was usually to watch Gwen compete in the show-jumping, but Lulu had preferred the noise, colour and bustle beyond the arenas. Now she could smell the sweetness of cotton candy and toffee apples drifting from the booths near the stands, hear the brass band playing, and see the farmers doing a roaring trade in wh
at looked like home-brewed cider and beer. The scene was one that hadn’t changed since she was a little girl – and she suspected it never would, for the Tasmanians were as passionate about a good day out as they were about their horses.
She looked back to the ever-present parade of people strolling along the path in front of the stand. The women wore fancy hats and pretty dresses, the men were in suits or the more practical moleskins and shirts, their broad-brimmed hats pulled low. It was such a shame that Molly hadn’t come; she would have loved the chance to dress up – but Dianne wasn’t competent enough to look after everything, and Molly had been reluctant to leave her in charge.
Her gaze trawled the ever-moving cavalcade – and froze – the scene around her fading until there was only Gwen. She was walking a horse along the path and hadn’t yet seen her, but Lulu’s heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. She had faced the demon memories – now she would have to face the demon-maker.
Gwen’s pace faltered as she made eye contact. Her lips thinned and her gaze was openly hostile.
Lulu was trapped.
Gwen’s eyes were cold and impersonal as they darted over her, and a sneer of contempt curled her scarlet lips as that arctic gaze returned to Lulu’s face. Her footsteps slowed even further, as if she was fully aware of the effect she was having on Lulu and wanted to prolong it.
Lulu steeled herself to return that scrutiny, knowing that to flinch from it would bring Gwen twisted satisfaction. She took in the hair that had obviously been dyed, the overdone make-up and the clothes that were designed for a much younger woman. The bright sun highlighted the lines around her eyes and smirking mouth and emphasised the sagging jawline. Gwen wasn’t yet fifty, but she had not aged well.
Gwen’s smirk faded as Lulu continued to glare back at her, and her pace quickened as she reached the end of the stand and headed towards the gathering of horseboxes on the far side of the arena.
Lulu’s heartbeat was surprisingly steady as she watched Gwen disappear into the crowd. She had realised in that fleeting moment that she had nothing to fear from that ageing, bitter woman, that she felt no pity for her obvious attempts to cheat the passing years – and certainly no love. Their brief and silent encounter had merely reinforced and acknowledged their mutual loathing.
*
He’d watched the silent exchange with curiosity and interest. It was clear there was no love lost between them, which had come as no surprise, but Gwen had thrown a challenge to Lorelei, and the younger woman had tossed it back with aplomb. If Gwen had been affected by that, he had no way of knowing, for her expression gave nothing away.
His gaze travelled back to Lorelei, who sat coolly in the stands as if nothing had happened. She might not be like her mother in any way, but she had certainly inherited the art of an enigmatic expression, he thought wryly.
Gwen’s step had quickened, and he melted into the shadows as she passed. He couldn’t take the risk of being seen, for she would know immediately who he was and he wasn’t willing to be unmasked until he had done all he had planned.
*
‘You’re very quiet,’ said Joe, as they left the racecourse and headed back to the house. ‘Something on your mind?’
‘I saw my mother today.’
Joe felt a pang of concern as he glanced across at her. ‘That must have been a bit of a shock after what happened when you arrived.’
‘It was at first,’ she replied, ‘because I wasn’t prepared.’
‘What did she say?’
‘We didn’t speak. The looks we exchanged said it all.’
He drove in silence for a while, his thoughts churning as he tried to think of something to say.
‘Please don’t be concerned on my account, Joe,’ she said, as if reading his thoughts. ‘I learnt an invaluable lesson today.’
‘And what was that?’
Lulu leant back in the seat, elbow hitched out of the open window. ‘That I have a great deal to thank Gwen for,’ she said bluntly. She must have seen his look of astonishment, for she laughed. ‘I’m grateful she didn’t want me, for Clarice was the best mother anyone could have had. I’m also grateful that her scorn and refusal to acknowledge me made me determined to succeed in all I do. If my life hadn’t begun in such a way, I would never have become the woman I am today.’
He gave a low whistle. ‘That was quite a lesson.’
She smiled. ‘Yes, it was, wasn’t it? But all artists, be they writers, painters, poets or sculptors, have to have experienced some emotional turmoil – it’s what gives them the edge – spurs them on to greater things. It is said that the only barrier to aspiration and imagination is the self. Success brings confidence and self-belief, which, in turn, breaks down those barriers and sets us free to fly.’
Joe saw the passion in her eyes and the heightened colour in her cheeks and his spirits sank. There was little doubt Lulu was an ambitious and talented artist who was already on the brink of great success. She belonged in a far bigger world than any he could offer. His heart ached at the thought, but he resolved to keep his burgeoning love for her a secret, so she could spread her wings and take that flight she so longed for.
Chapter 14
‘It will hardly be Ascot,’ said Dolly. ‘Are you sure this isn’t too much?’
‘Definitely not,’ said Eliza, eyeing the scarlet dress and matching shoes with a degree of envy. ‘I just wish I’d thought to bring something as glamorous.’
Dolly picked up the black felt hat and carefully placed it on her head before standing back to admire the effect. The silk roses on the side of the cloche matched the dress, falling in a tumble to caress her cheek.
‘You look bonzer,’ Eliza breathed, eyes shining with admiration.
‘Thank you, darling. One hopes that’s a compliment,’ she said drily as she put on her black swing-coat with the white fox-fur collar.
‘It certainly is,’ said Eliza. ‘Did that hat come from London?’
Lulu remained silent as she buttoned the straps on her shoes and tried to ignore the mutual admiration society on the far side of the room. Eliza had insisted upon coming to their room this morning, and Dolly seemed so wrapped up in the girl she’d barely had a word for Lulu since breakfast. It rankled, but she was determined not to let it show.
She stood and eyed her reflection in the pier glass. The turquoise silk-and-lace dress fell from her shoulders in a slender tube, the handkerchief-hem skirt swirling from below her hips to her calves. Her shoes were dark blue, as was the velvet band she had tied around her head and pinned with a turquoise silk rose and a jaunty feather. Her hair tumbled from this restraint in a waterfall of curls – and the flush in her cheeks enhanced the colour of her eyes.
‘Very attractive,’ said Eliza, ‘but I’m surprised you don’t cut your hair more fashionably. That length is so outdated.’
‘I prefer it long,’ Lulu retorted.
Eliza’s glance was scathing before she turned back to Dolly. ‘You look so gorgeous you’re bound to be picked for the beauty pageant.’
‘The what?’ Dolly looked at her in horror.
Eliza giggled. ‘You don’t have to enter, even if you are invited,’ she said, ‘but I’ve been in several, and they’re great fun.’
Lulu picked up her lipstick. She remembered the pageants, and the way she’d squirmed with embarrassment when Gwen paraded up and down and flirted outrageously with every man watching.
‘We’d better go,’ said Eliza reluctantly.
‘In a minute.’ Dolly was rooting about in the wardrobe. She finally managed to find what she was looking for and pulled it out with a smile of satisfaction. ‘There you are, Eliza. It will look stunning with your colouring.’
Lulu watched dumbfounded as Eliza eyed the lovely dress Dolly had had made in Singapore. Dolly adored that dress and was usually possessive over her clothing – but it seemed she was happily handing it over.
Eliza wasted no time in shamelessly stripping to her underwear. The sheath of apr
icot silk whispered over her head and down her slender body, and she twirled delightedly before the mirror. Embroidered butterflies and flowers danced diagonally from shoulder to narrow hip, the hem floating just below her knee. It was a perfect fit.
Dolly nodded with satisfaction. ‘Now for a hat. This one, I think. Oh, and the shoes. We look about the same size. Try these.’
Eliza wriggled into them. ‘Perfect,’ she said breathlessly.
Lulu sat on the bed as Dolly fussed with the simple straw hat that had a peach-coloured ribbon around the crown. As the girl twisted and turned before the mirror, Lulu realised with a pang that although she was only eighteen, she was woman enough to steal Joe’s heart.
*
They were driven to the course in David’s Model T Ford, which was his pride and joy, but it meant hanging on to their seats as he bowled down the road at a precarious thirty miles an hour.
The gymkhana was into its second day in the showground, but as they approached the racecourse it looked very different today. Bunting fluttered, flags flew from the poles fixed to the grandstand, a band played, cars, trucks and horseboxes were gathered in the parking area and a sense of excitement pervaded the milling, colourful crowd who flocked into the grandstand and along the white railings.
Lulu felt a thrill as more memories were brought to life by the colour, noise and exuberance of the crowd. But there was little time to take it all in, for their hosts were leading them past the grandstand to the fenced-off area for owners, trainers and jockeys.
She watched as horses stamped and snorted, jockeys swore and owners and trainers engaged in deep discussions over tactics. She took in the coloured silks of the jockeys, the gleam of prime horseflesh groomed especially for the day, and the fancy hats and dresses of the women. They needn’t have feared being overdressed, she thought wryly, as she watched a woman teeter past in high heels, dressed in bright yellow with a hat overly laden with citrus-green silk flowers to match her parasol.
The sun blazed down, making it quite oppressive in the stable area, and she eased her coat off and opened her own parasol. Made of thick paper, it was richly painted with birds of paradise which matched her dress. Dolly had a red one, and she’d lent her spare, which happened to be deep orange, to Eliza. Lulu’s smile was amused. They must look like something from a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta.
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