Rose River

by Margareta Osborn

  One look at Stirling’s marble face and Jaime’s flushed one and even a five year old could’ve sussed out there was an argument in progress. What a cow.

  ‘Rick’s just rung Bluey. He’s wondering where we are.’

  Stirling nodded and walked towards the pub door. Stopped. Turned back to a stock-still Jaime. ‘We’ll talk more when I get home.’ Then he was gone, followed by his ex-girlfriend, a cat-like grin on her face.

  Jaime stared after them. She really wanted to say or do something to wipe that smug expression from Tiffany’s face but she couldn’t think of anything. She was so angry she felt completely impotent.

  ‘I’ll run you home meself,’ said Bluey from behind the bar. ‘I’ll just finish up ’ere and give Jean a yell, then we can go?’ It was a question rather than a statement.

  Jaime tried to rearrange her expression before she turned around. It wasn’t Bluey’s fault. ‘Thanks, but don’t worry. I can get myself home. Have you got Ryan’s number?’

  She was an independent, capable woman. Not like that hair-tossing, boyfriend-stealing prize bitch!

  ‘She’s a trier, I’ll give her that,’ Ryan said as he navigated the narrow, windy road up to Burdekin’s Gap. ‘This is the second time she’s come crawling back. McEvoy always seems to fall for it.’

  Jaime hadn’t put Marble Man down as being gullible. More the opposite. Wary. Alert. Watchful.

  ‘Last time it was one of her fellow vet students,’ Ryan went on. ‘Brought the bloke home to show him off – and get a rise out of McEvoy probably – then dropped him like bag of stinking dead rats when he seemed to find one of my backpackers more interesting. Justified it by saying the guy was “just a friend”. Barley Charlie. I caught them at it in the Audi. Don’t know how they managed to fit – there’s not much room in there. She stayed a while – maybe three weeks – then took off again. Some vet tour overseas.’

  So Tiffany the Tosser was now a qualified vet, which meant she wasn’t silly by a long shot. It also meant she understood this whole ‘country’ thing. Knew about cattle and horses, and rabbits and possums and roos and guns, all that stuff. Not like Jaime, who knew nothing – as Stirling had reminded her.

  ‘How did Stirling react to that?’ she asked, breaking her self-imposed silence. She needed to find out what she was up against.

  ‘Not the best. I think he really loved her. When they finally broke up, he shut himself away more than he usually does and we didn’t see him for weeks. I had to go make sure he was still alive. Him and that dog of his.’

  ‘Buster,’ said Jaime automatically. ‘His name is Buster.’

  She could feel Ryan’s intense stare on the side of her face. ‘You haven’t fallen for him, have you?’

  ‘No! Why would I go and do a stupid thing like that?’

  Much better to just curl up in a corner and cry and cry and cry.

  ‘Tiffany’s the mountain edition of a buckle bunny, or at least that’s what Jean says.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘You know, coloured or checked button-up shirt, big pearls,’ Ryan indicated his neck and ears, ‘tight jeans, sparkly belt, toffy private-school voice; they like reeling in the fellas.’

  ‘Right,’ said Jaime, who had no idea what he was talking about.

  ‘Most of them are cool, but there are a few who are snarky pieces of gear. Don’t know what other blokes see in them. The Vincent-Prowse chicks are some of the worst. There’s this one called Prudence – she lives in Scone now, but, man, was she a piece of work.’

  So obviously the Vincent-Prowses were really loved in the area. Not.

  ‘But Tiff,’ Ryan went on, ‘well, she’s okay. Likes her parties though, which didn’t help with McEvoy. She’s beautiful, really smart, and most of the oldies love her. She’s the local girl made good. She was a model in Country Life magazine and Marie Claire before she went off to uni. Yeah, Tiffany’s alright.’

  Shit. Sometimes men were so dumb.

  ‘Jean doesn’t like her much though. Not sure why.’

  Bravo to Jean! Jaime knew there was a reason – besides the lifesaver underwear and big bathtub – she liked that woman.

  ‘Looks like McEvoy’s going to be third time lucky,’ Ryan finished.

  Jaime wanted to hit him. Really hard. ‘It’s not going to work, you know.’

  ‘What?’ he said, widening his baby blues in a show of innocence.

  ‘I’m not in the slightest bit interested in you, so painting Stirling in a bad light isn’t going to help.’

  ‘Damn,’ he said, banging the steering wheel in mock frustration. ‘What’s he got that I haven’t?’

  She felt like saying a whole lot, including buckets of sex appeal, but didn’t. ‘You’re a lovely bloke,’ she started.

  ‘I know, I know, you’ve said it already – you’re just not interested. That’s what they all say.’

  He sounded so despondent.

  ‘Look, I’m sure there’re some lovely backpackers out there who’ll think you’re the answer to all their prayers,’ she said.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not interested? You might want to get in before they all come running.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re sure?’

  ‘Shut up, Ryan.’

  Silence for a while. Then, ‘Well, you’re wasting your time with McEvoy.’

  Jaime reluctantly glanced across at the storekeeper and saw he was deadly serious this time. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I saw the two of them driving out of town when I was coming to get you. They looked pretty cosy.’

  Really? Damn, damn, damn.

  Jaime didn’t say another word until Ryan dropped her off at the front gate of Polly’s Plains.

  ‘I can take you right up to the house?’ he said. ‘Save you carting your bag.’

  She didn’t want Ryan Morley within a hundred metres of her mother, who would be waiting avidly for news. Having to deal with Tiffany the Tosser this morning had been quite enough.

  ‘I’m fine, Ryan, truly I am. I just need some fresh air. The drive was windy and I’m feeling a little carsick.’

  His gaze turned sympathetic. Terrific. Now he pitied her. Well, he could go roast in the same hell as Stirling McEvoy, and she might even throw in some extra fuel free of charge. She’d give him ‘pretty cosy’. Ryan knew full well she and Stirling had left the cricket party together with one key between them. He’d watched them go. She’d seen him slouched over a pot of beer at the end of the bar. Bastard.

  All men were bastards!

  Chapter 23

  ‘And how did your night away go, dear?’

  Her mother. On the other side of the bedroom door. Jaime slammed her pillow back over her head, then added another. She couldn’t deal with Blanche today. Absolutely not. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep …

  ‘I know you’re awake. I heard the toilet.’

  Bugger the loud plumbing. Bugger old houses. Bugger Valerie and Simon for not spending any money to fix their bathrooms. Bugger to the whole McEvoy family for producing a two-timing bastard like Stirling.

  Hardly two-timing, Princess.

  She could even hear his voice in her head. Smell him on her skin. Taste him on her lips. Feel his warm, strong hands stroking her body.

  AAAARGH!

  ‘I’ve made you some late lunch, darling. I’ll leave it out here in the hall. Dave and I are going fishing again.’

  Jaime didn’t want to think about fishing, because that led to thinking about Stirling and what he’d done for her on Christmas Day. She’d been sure that meant something. And it, in turn, had led to last night at the Lake Grace pub. The most incredible, amazing sex of her life. She’d gathered it was the same for Stirling. But obviously she’d been mistaken. She was only a pretty little interlude on the way to bigger and better things. Specifically, dark, sultry, feline ex-girlfriend-like things.

  The pillows were becoming a nuisance. She couldn’t breathe under the layers of
cotton, and admittedly she did feel a little hungry. She listened until she couldn’t hear a single sound in the house, then snuck out of bed and opened her bedroom door. There on the floor was a yummy salad made with leftover ham from Christmas Day. Also on the tray sat a bowl of plum pudding with a melting puddle of ice-cream slipping off the side. The scent of the warm dessert made her tummy growl. Suddenly she was very hungry. Being too upset to eat lunch did that to you.

  She glanced at her watch – twenty to four – then back at the food. What the hell. The percussion noises her stomach was making, she’d probably be hungry enough to eat dinner too. Picking up the tray, Jaime retreated into her room.

  As she was about to close the door, she hesitated. Did she really want to spend another minute in here? The rumpled bed reminded her of the one she’d woken up in this morning in Lake Grace, with Stirling … She felt a fresh wave of tears well up.

  Then she heard her father’s voice in her head: ‘Suck it up, Princess.’ No more wallowing, she decided, and walked down the hall towards the lounge. She sat herself in a nice comfy chair that matched the nice comfy couch Stirling had laid her on when she was drunk … And then proceeded to make those beautiful sponges for her …

  ARGH! She would not think of him.

  While she mechanically chewed the salad, she stared out the window – at Stirling’s house just down the hill. Craning her neck she tried to see if he was home. But how was she supposed to tell? She gave up and stared at the sky, its crazed blue and white patterns, and wondered why in the city no one ever really looked up. She tried to pick out shapes in the clouds, something she’d done as a kid with her father. A plane, an eagle, an alien of sorts.

  Her thoughts were disrupted by a cloud of orange dust as a vehicle entered the driveway. It was probably them. She felt her tummy clench, and not from hunger this time. Nerves. Apprehension.

  She craned her neck and saw the vehicle miss the brick entry posts to the main yard by no more than a handspan before it disappeared around the side of the house and out of Jaime’s sight. One thing was for certain: the car wasn’t red. The flash of duco she’d seen through the dust cloud was white. So it wasn’t Tiffany. And here she was, sitting in her PJs – boxer shorts and singlet. Not really suitable attire for receiving guests. Plus her eyes looked like swollen red plums. Great. Just great.

  Jaime raced down the hall to her room, threw on the top and cut-offs she’d been wearing earlier in the day, and scrunched her long hair up on top of her head with a hairband. She slapped a little make-up around her eyes, peered into the mirror and decided it was a lost cause. She’d just have to brave it. Back down the hall she ran, pulling on bright dangly earrings as she went. If her ears were decorated loudly enough, maybe the visitors wouldn’t notice her eyes.

  At the back door she stopped abruptly, her jaw somewhere near the ground. The vehicle was a jacked-up Nissan ute with huge round spotlights decorating the roof, the sides and the tray. There were even strips of LED lights rimming the running boards and bullbar.

  A man appeared from around the driver’s side, where he’d been petting his two dogs. This day could not get any worse. Seriously, it couldn’t.

  Walking towards her was a reasonably slim man, around six foot, blond hair pushed back to reveal a high forehead. Beautiful green eyes shone with pleasure in a heart-shaped face that ended in a neatly bristled chin. It was a shame the handsome looks didn’t match his personality. It was Dave’s nephew, Marty. An annoying pest who claimed to be in love with Jaime to the point of salivating every time he saw her.

  Geez. First Tiffany had turned up out of the blue, and now Marty. Did the love gods have it in for her?

  ‘Marty!’ Jaime said, frowning as she walked out to meet him. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘Thought I’d surprise you,’ he said, rocking back on his heels.

  ‘You’re certainly a surprise.’ And an unwelcome one at that.

  ‘Uncle Dave said you were all up here, so I thought, why not? I was planning on hunting some deer anyway so I reckoned I may as well come up and see what I could see,’ Marty explained.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Auntie Blanche said there were plenty of beds.’

  When would her mother learn to keep her mouth shut?

  ‘And Uncle Dave said there were deer too. So, here I am. Aren’t you pleased to see me?’

  It was best not to answer that. Anyway, she was distracted by a Suzuki that had practically slid through the gate sideways and parked at a rakish angle behind Marty’s ute. Stirling burst from the driver’s seat like a racehorse from its starting gate. Jaime’s heart lurched.

  ‘I found this bloke trespassing,’ Stirling pointed to Marty. ‘He says he knows you?’

  ‘Ummm …’ What could she say but, ‘Yes, I guess so.’

  ‘You guess so?’ said Marty to Jaime. ‘What sort of answer is that? Of course we know each other. I told this loser that after he pulled off the road and started yelling at me!’

  Jaime blinked. Oh, that was so not the thing to call Stirling McEvoy.

  ‘Who are you calling a loser, you redneck wanker?’ roared Stirling. ‘You were the one walking around with a rifle in your hands, on land that you don’t have any right to be on!’

  ‘I was just looking for deer. I had the gun with me in case I spotted some. You’ve gotta be prepared.’

  ‘Prepared my arse -’

  ‘Look, I told you, I know the girl living here, so just get back in your Suzuki buzz box and rack off to wherever you were going.’

  Jaime stared at the two men fronting up to each other, heads thrown back, chests out, hands clenched into fists. They both looked ridiculous, like a pair of angry brown bears.

  The noise of another vehicle had them all swinging around as a red Audi scooted in behind the Suzuki. Jaime couldn’t believe it. Not ‘The Tosser’ again.

  She glanced back at Stirling. He was glaring at her. Geez. Why was he so angry at her? He was the one who’d taken off after their beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful night.

  ‘Jaime, a word, please?’ Stirling took hold of her arm and walked her out of earshot of Marty. ‘Did you invite him here?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Are you sure about that? I’ve been lied to by women before.’

  ‘Well, what if I had? It wouldn’t matter to you anyway.’ Jaime glanced over at the Audi, where Tiffany was talking on her mobile as she extracted herself from the driver’s side. (How come she had service?)

  ‘I told you, Tiff means nothing now,’ Stirling said, sounding impatient.

  ‘Yeah, well, Marty means nothing either, so get off your high horse, alright?’

  ‘I’m not on my high horse!’

  ‘You are so on your high horse. In fact, you’re so high you’ve got your head in the clouds!’

  ‘Are you okay, Jaime?’ Marty called. ‘I’m here if you need me.’

  She wished he’d just shut the hell up.

  Stirling walked over to him. ‘If she needs you?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘And what kind of need would that be?’

  Jaime could almost taste the testosterone in the air. She placed herself between the two men, a hand on each thrusting chest. ‘Stop it! Marty, Stirling’s family own Polly’s Plains. He’s my boss.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Marty, stepping back a fraction.

  ‘Yes. And, Stirling, this is Marty Berensforde. He’s Dave’s nephew. He was passing by so he thought he’d call in and see his uncle.’

  And most likely her, but she wasn’t going to admit that to the man she’d slept with last night.

  ‘Mmmmm,’ said Stirling, remaining exactly where he was. His expression was taciturn. Great. So he was back to being Marble Man again.

  ‘Babe, what’s going on?’

  Jaime had been so intent on breaking up Stirling and Marty’s alpha-male battle, she’d forgotten about Tiffany the Tosser. She was standing just a few metres from them and looked
amazing. Sometime between leaving the Lake Grace Hotel and arriving at Polly’s Plains, she’d had time to change and was now decked out in another pair of tight, rhinestone-studded jeans, a fitted shirt, and a beige-coloured belt with a blingy buckle destined to blind anyone who looked at it. Jaime remembered Ryan calling her a ‘buckle bunny’. She thought she was now getting the picture.

  ‘I’m Marty, Dave’s nephew,’ Marty said to the Tosser, stepping forward and holding out his hand.

  ‘Dave?’ Tiffany wrinkled her brow in an impressive display of incomprehension.

  ‘I told you about him on the way up,’ Stirling said. ‘He’s Jaime’s stepfather. He and Jaime’s mother are staying here for Christmas.’

  ‘O-kay,’ said Tiffany, still frowning. ‘But I thought you said she was your worker, not a visitor?’

  Stirling said that? Jaime was incensed.

  ‘Jaime is my worker,’ Stirling said.

  Oh, really? What about last night, bucko?

  ‘And she’s also a friend.’

  A friend? That’s all?

  ‘Has she met your parents?’ asked Tiffany, her big brown eyes narrowing.

  Marty draped his arm around Jaime’s shoulders and interrupted before Stirling could answer. ‘Jaime’s my girlfriend.’

  What the hell?

  ‘And I’m here to make sure she’s being treated properly.’

  Jaime wanted to die. Or find a gun and shoot Marty so he died instead.

  ‘Marty, I am so not your girlfriend,’ she said.

  But the damage was done. Stirling was looking at her like she’d grown two heads. She could see he thought she’d lied to him. Well, he was a fine one to talk. He was the one who’d taken off with his ex-girlfriend, leaving Jaime to fend for herself. He was the one who was being called babe at every turn. So what if he thought she and Marty were a couple? So what if he was hurt? She was hurt too.

  But that didn’t mean she wanted Marty draped over her. She kicked his shin and he jumped back, his arm falling to his side. ‘Thank you, God,’ she muttered in relief.

  But the relief was short-lived.

  Another dust cloud appeared on the station track, and soon a vehicle was rounding the gatepost with less than a finger’s width to spare. What was it with these crazy drivers today? Polly’s Plains hadn’t seen this many visitors in the whole time Jaime’d been here.