The goslings made friends with the ducklings through the chicken wire of their pen. Then they fanned out on the grass, using their beaks to explore, tugging and pulling at anything in their path. What would happen to them? A cloud settled on Nina as she watched the young birds. The first pied geese at Billabong for almost a century and they’d never claim their birthright.
‘Sophie, I want to talk to you,’ said Nina. ‘About your birds. About when they grow up.’
‘Poppi says he’ll clip their wings, and they can live on our dam.’ A certain tone in the girl’s voice told Nina that she didn’t approve of her grandfather’s plan.
‘Magpie geese are protected,’ said Nina. ‘You’re not allowed to keep them as pets. And anyway, they’re wild birds. They’re meant to be free, like your tadpoles, and your turtle. Free like Elsa, the lioness.’
‘I know.’ Sophie kissed Odette on her proud head, and looked at Nina with unhappy eyes. ‘Tell me what to do.’
‘I don’t know myself yet,’ said Nina. ‘Let me do some research. Their best bet would be to join a flock of wild birds, ones who could teach them their migration route. But I’ve no idea where the nearest magpie geese might be. They’ve been locally extinct for years.’
‘They think I’m their mother,’ said Sophie.
‘They do. And you want the best for them, don’t you?’ Sophie nodded. ‘That’s settled then. I’ll work something out, and in the meantime, you just keep looking after those goslings the way you’ve been doing.’ Sophie nodded again and Nina pulled her in for a hug.
‘I’ve been thinking, Soph,’ said Ric, who’d been standing nearby listening. ‘What you need is a pet. A proper one, one that Nina won’t take off you.’
Sophie’s eyes lit up. ‘I’d never ask for anything ever again if I could have a horse.’
Nina was almost as excited as Sophie at the prospect. The girl had been having lessons for a month now. Ric dropped her off twice a week. Sophie called it ‘going to pony club’. She always arrived in full uniform, neat tie and all, crisply laundered, courtesy of Max, apparently. Nina found the girl to be a keen and capable student, but they spent as much time talking as riding. Sophie had started bringing her homework along. ‘Will you help me? I suck at maths.’
‘Why don’t you ask Ric, or your grandfather?’
Sophie had hung her head. ‘Don’t want them to think I’m dumb.’ So after the riding lesson they’d often sit on the shady riverbank and do sums or reading. Sometimes they’d draw birds. Nina enjoyed teaching Sophie what Eva had taught her. To work step by step, to be a keen observer, to keep things simple. Sometimes she helped Sophie write letters to her mother.
The child was opening up, telling Nina odds and ends about her life with Rachael. Pieced together, they formed a compelling story of hardship. Sophie’s maternal grandparents were dead. She hadn’t stayed in one place long enough to make lasting friendships or have any real educational continuity. Consequently, she struggled at school and felt stupid. Her mother Rachael was often sick. There were weeks when she wouldn’t get out of bed, and Sophie became the parent, making her coffee and toast and missing school. These episodes of illness had been growing worse. Once last year Sophie had been taken into foster care. She’d run away and found her way back home. Rachael had packed them up and moved to Queensland. There’d been a lot of boyfriends, some nice, some not so much. If anybody ever needed some love and stability – and a horse – it was this little girl.
‘Sophie’s making good progress,’ said Nina. ‘But there are limits to what I can teach her on Flicka. She really needs something smaller.’
Ric turned to his daughter. ‘How about a deal?’ he said. ‘I’ll get you a horse if you behave at school.’
‘It’s not my fault,’ said Sophie, voice rising and with a rebellious tilt to her head. ‘Mrs Taylor picks on me, and the other kids are mean.’
‘They’re mean?’ said Ric. ‘They’re not the ones starting fights . . . and biting, for Christ’s sake. Just three weeks in and I’ve already been called down to the school half a dozen times. Including on your first day, no less.’
Sophie opened her mouth to argue, but must have thought better of it. ‘I’ll try.’
‘No,’ said Ric. ‘If you want that horse, you won’t just try. You’ll do it.’
Nina frowned. Was it her place to jump in, to explain a few things to Ric? Tell him it wasn’t going to be that simple for Sophie to just decide to behave?
‘Will you really get me a horse?’
‘Promise.’ Ric held out his arm. ‘Deal?’
Sophie took a while to respond, like she was weighing up the pros and cons. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I do really, really want a horse, so I suppose it’s a deal.’ They shook hands.
‘Trouble at school?’ asked Nina, as Sophie ran down to the horse yards to say hello to Monty and Flicka.
‘Sophie picks fights. She talks back to the teacher, walks out of class whenever she feels like it. Half the time she won’t go to school at all. Says she can’t leave those damned geese.’
‘There’s a fair bit on her plate,’ said Nina. ‘Her mother, a new school . . . and getting used to you. Can’t be easy dealing with all that.’
‘Me?’ Ric flashed her a melting smile. ‘I’m a pushover.’
‘Be serious,’ said Nina. ‘She’s had it pretty tough. Don’t expect too much too soon.’
They wandered back to the verandah. Ric leaned over the rail, staring into the middle distance. Nina joined him and for a moment their arms brushed together. ‘Are you happy, Nina?’
The question caught her off guard. Was she happy? ‘Yes, most of the time.’
Ric smiled but his eyes were sad. ‘Funny how things go.’ A pair of butterflies flew briefly round their heads, then danced together in the sunshine. ‘Life sure is different from what you think it’ll be, you know, when you’re a kid.’
‘Why so philosophical all of a sudden?’ she asked.
‘Tell me, Nina. How did you think your life would turn out, way back when?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Not too different from what it is.’ His lips pressed into a tight line. ‘What about you?’
‘Me?’ Ric’s unflinching gaze locked onto hers. ‘I thought that together, you and I were going to conquer the world.’
CHAPTER 20
The bank manager’s hollow words echoed down the phone. Nina shook her head. ‘No, that’s impossible.’ A late ray of sunshine flared through the cobwebbed window and was swallowed by the evening.
‘Sorry, is this the first you’ve heard?’ asked Trevor.
‘Yes,’ she stammered, disbelieving, numb with the news. It couldn’t be. She’d have known, wouldn’t she? If Eva’s heart had stopped beating, if they no longer shared this world? Why hadn’t she been told? Nina’s mind cast vainly about for somebody to blame. She was Eva’s most regular visitor, rarely missing a week, but she wasn’t a relative. The staff at Pemberley had no duty of care to inform her of anything. That precious call had belonged to James Langley. How had he reacted? With shock, with grief? Or was he indifferent, or even relieved at the news? Which emotion had topped his list? ‘When did Eva die?’ asked Nina, amazed such a question could leave her lips.
‘Yesterday,’ said Trevor. ‘A heart attack. Very sudden. She died on her way to hospital. I imagined you already knew.’
A stony silence fell on the line. Nina wanted Trevor’s terrible words to crawl right back up the phone and disappear. Then it struck her. ‘If you thought I already knew, why did you ring?’
‘Ah,’ said Trevor, his discomfort plain. ‘I’m afraid there’s more bad news. Don’t like to bother you with this on a weekend, but you need to know.’ Nina uttered a mirthless laugh. Compared to Eva’s death, what other bad news could possibly touch her? ‘It’s the contract. The contract of sale for Billabong Bend . . .’ He hesitated, sending a bolt of fear straight to her heart. ‘It’s no good, Nina. Eva’s death has rendered it void.�
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Nina listened, but didn’t really hear, didn’t understand. What was he saying? Maybe she was dreaming. She looked about her, stared out the window, bewildered. Everything seemed normal. The fluttering curtains, the darkening sky, the stately river red gums casting long shadows. All as it should be.
‘Void?’ she managed. ‘The contract was signed and witnessed three weeks ago, the deposit paid. How can it be void?’
‘Doesn’t happen often,’ said Trevor. ‘But if the vendor dies before settlement, then the contract can’t be enforced. Makes sense, if you think about it. You can’t have an agreement with a dead person. Of course, in most cases the vendor’s executor is happy enough to honour the spirit of the deal, to amend the contract, to carry on with the sale . . .’ He paused, an awful and significant pause.
Nina’s mind worked overtime, trying to anticipate where the phone call was going. Eva’s executor . . . that would be James Langley. ‘In most cases. But not in this case?’
‘No,’ said Trevor. ‘Not in this case.’
‘What if I talked to James myself?’
‘I’ve already approached him on your behalf,’ said Trevor. ‘Told him how close you were to Eva, how badly she wanted you to have that land.’
‘And?’
‘No go, I’m afraid. He was quite resistant, hostile even.’ Trevor stopped, as if he didn’t quite know how to put it. ‘James is a funny bloke, got some strange ideas.’
‘Like what?’
‘He’s got some poppycock notion that you manipulated Eva into signing that contract. It was the purchase price that got him,’ said Trevor. ‘It’s below market value. Not enough to upset the titles office, but enough to put a bee in his bonnet.’
‘I have to talk to him.’
‘I wouldn’t. He had some pretty objectionable things to say about you, Nina . . .’ Another pause, long enough for her imagination to run wild. Nina ground her teeth together and tasted tears, although she didn’t know she was crying. ‘I’ll arrange for the return of your deposit in the next few days. Word is, James will sell Billabong as soon as he can. You might be able to pick it up at auction. Be sure to send a bidder in your stead though. I wouldn’t be surprised if James refused to knock the place down to you.’
‘I need time to think,’ said Nina.
‘Course you do,’ said Trevor. ‘Ring me just as soon as you decide.’
Nina thanked him and put down the phone in a daze. Eva gone. Billabong Bend at risk all over again. Her body hurt like she’d been beaten black and blue. Fear and grief washed in. How could it be? Warm, brave, elegant Eva – gone. Nina reached for the phone to ring Lockie, struggling against the overwhelming tide of misery and guilt. Did the trip back to Billabong have something to do with Eva’s death? Nina fought to draw breath. If she didn’t share this grief with someone it would drown her.
Lockie couldn’t come. ‘The boss is here for the weekend. We’re going over the books together, drafting a new business plan. I can’t just up and leave.’
‘Please.’ She hated the cry in her voice. Shit, she was almost begging.
‘Can’t be done,’ said Lockie.
She hung silent on the phone. Surely he’d change his mind? Losing Eva and Billabong in one fell blow – he must realise how devastating that was. ‘I’ll come as soon as I can, but it won’t be tonight,’ said Lockie. ‘Sorry, Nina, it’s the best I can do.’
‘When then?’
‘Don’t know,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow maybe? I told you, I’ll come as soon as I can.’
It took a while for her to speak. ‘If it was you,’ she said, ‘I’d come.’
‘If you’d just see sense and move in with me, you wouldn’t have to come,’ he said. ‘You’d already be here. How the hell are we supposed to make this work when we never see each other? It’s just too difficult.’
‘I’ll make it easy for you then,’ said Nina, her voice hard now. ‘Let’s stop trying.’
‘Don’t be like that, Nina.’
‘I mean it. I’m done, Lockie. I’m not going to settle down at Macquarie Station with you. Not ever. That’s what you want, right?’
‘Well, yeah. That’s where I thought we were heading.’
‘But my heart’s here, Lockie. You know that. The wetlands, the river – they’re in my blood. That won’t change.’ Her voice was breaking. ‘Find somebody who can make you happy. Because it isn’t me.’
‘You’re upset.’
‘Damn straight I am. We’ve been drifting along, Lockie, settling. Truth is, we want different things from life,’ she said. ‘This break’s long overdue.’
It was a while before he spoke. ‘Is this about Ric Bonelli?’
‘No, it’s not about Ric. It’s about us.’ She ended the call. Things just kept falling apart. Nina pressed her knuckles against her eyes to stem the flow of tears. She’d had enough. Enough of holding tight, being tough, proving to everybody including herself that she could manage on her own. Maybe to herself more than anyone. Well, tonight she couldn’t do it. Tonight she needed a friend.
She rang Kate. ‘Nina?’ The surprise was plain in Kate’s voice when she picked up. ‘It’s been ages. Guess what? I’m in Sydney, with Geoff, for the weekend and we’re just on our way out to dinner. We’re having a fabulous time by the way . . . Is everything all right?’
Nina imagined Kate, cosied up at some city hotel, caught up in the excitement of new love. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said, feeling bereft. ‘I won’t keep you.’
Dylan, her perfect confidant, was out of reach, off in Rio. He’d been texting her photos of buff Brazilian guys, but other than that, she hadn’t heard from him. The weight of her parents’ kindness would be too much to bear. Who then? Any time she wasn’t working at Red Gums, she usually spent with Lockie. The loneliness that sometimes came out at sunset hit her in the stark light of day. Kate had warned her, said she was losing touch all alone on the river, becoming a hermit. It seemed her friend was right. There was nobody left to call. Or was there? Memories swept in, of a lonely child turning to her best friend in times of trouble. Turning to the boy across the river.
Nina rubbed her temples with her fingers. Had life ever been so bewildering? She picked up her phone and tried Dylan anyway. To her astonishment, he answered. ‘Dylan, thank God. Did I wake you? I’ve no idea what time it is there.’
‘Five-thirty in the morning,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry, I haven’t been to bed yet.’ She could hardly hear him. Loud music played in the background and his voice was faint and faraway. ‘What’s up, chicky? My phone’s almost out of charge, so be quick.’
Nina took a deep breath and began. Eva’s death, losing Billabong, her growing affection for Sophie, the breakup with Lockie and her maddening, irresistible attraction to Ric Bonelli; a great, stream-of-consciousness outpouring over the shaky line.
Dylan let her finish without interrupting. ‘I go away for a few months,’ he said, ‘and look what happens.’
‘Be serious, Dylan,’ she said. ‘I’m so confused. What should I do?’
His voice was breaking up. She strained to hear, catching only a fragment of speech before the line went dead. Listen to your heart . . .
Nina waited, sitting on the porch step, in that mysterious hour between dusk and nightfall. Time had stopped. She seemed to have been sitting there forever, in the silence, in the twilight. A wild duck called. Its lonely cry echoed off the river, before the breeze carried it downstream. When would he come? Jinx buried his cold nose in her lap, as if to say, won’t I do? She fondled his velvet ears. ‘Not tonight, you won’t.’ In the waning light the windmill blades turned and turned, marking the minutes. She shivered, in spite of the balmy evening. Jinx pricked up his ears. Finally, the hum of a motor. Softer, as it slowed to take the turn. Louder now. Twin shafts of light pierced the gloom. Jinx barked and trotted to the gate.
‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ said Ric, visibly moved when he heard the news about Eva. He offered Nina a stubby from the
six-pack of beer he’d brought over, took one for himself and put the rest in the fridge. ‘Mrs Langley sure was a sweet old lady.’ He took a seat beside Nina at the kitchen table. ‘She meant a lot to you, didn’t she?’
‘Eva was the best.’ It hurt to talk. Nina’s throat was raw from weeping. Her reflection in the window showed wild hair, a puffy face, and eyes red and scalded from tears. ‘James has no right to dishonour that contract,’ she said. ‘Eva wanted me to have Billabong. It was her last wish, for the wetlands to be safe.’
Nina watched Ric for any sign of disapproval. He’d been unhappy about taking Eva back to Billabong. Would he think her at fault? She couldn’t bear that. But what she saw in his deep, brown eyes was open friendship with no hint of blame . . . and there was something more. Warmth, tenderness – love.
‘Why didn’t you keep in touch after you went to Italy?’ she asked.
Ric ran a hand through his hair and took a sudden interest in the sugar bowl. He glanced up at her for a moment. A flutter of desire stirred in her stomach before he looked away again. ‘You really want to know?’
Nina nodded, unsure now if she did or not.
‘Someone played a stupid trick on me before I left.’
‘Go on.’
He drew a deep breath. ‘I was at school, hanging out with Lockie one lunchtime. Just mates, you know, having a yarn.’ Lockie? What did he have to do with this? ‘Anyway, he said he had this girl. Thought he was taking the piss at first. Nothing much gets past me, and Drover’s a small town. Then he comes out with it. Nina Moore, he says. Seemed real serious about it. And I’d just made a fool of myself giving you a promise ring, kissing you.’ Nina shook her head. The truth was dawning fast. ‘I had to sit there,’ said Ric, ‘like a drongo, play-acting that I was pleased for him.’ Nina thought back to that last summer before Ric left. Lockie had a holiday job at Red Gums, laying water pipes. Had he followed her down to the river? Had he seen them together?
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