by Tony Parsons
Then they entered a huge kitchen, with massive cupboards and a large walk-in pantry. ‘There’s a coolroom outside,’ Liz explained. ‘We keep veggies and other stuff in it. They’ll keep for ages—saves going to town all the time. And of course, we have our own meat. You can put today’s veggies there. I’ll put his nibs down with a bottle and get these other things stored away, and then we can have lunch.’
‘Is there anything more I can do?’ Baxter asked.
‘You could feed His Majesty his bottle, if you don’t mind.’
Baxter looked across at her and smiled. There was less of the old provocative Liz now, and more of the practical station owner and mother. And she still looked great. She was wearing blue jeans and a cream silk blouse with a string tie, and her wide-brimmed hat was a pearl-coloured Akubra.
‘I could feed him if that would help,’ Frances suggested, holding out her arms.
‘By all means,’ Liz said. She handed over the baby and his bottle. ‘He’s inclined to drink it very fast, so you have to stop now and again.’
Watching his mother hold his son, Baxter grinned. He couldn’t wait to see her face when she learned the truth.
‘He’s a gorgeous baby,’ Frances said. She stroked his peach-fuzz cheek and smiled down at him as he started suckling the bottle.
‘He’s not bad,’ Liz agreed. ‘He’s got nice-looking parents so he ought to turn out all right . . . looks-wise, anyway. There, that’s that,’ she said, putting away three bags of groceries. ‘Will corned beef and salad do, Mrs Baxter? I’m not a fancy cook.’
‘It will do just fine,’ Frances said.
‘Is he drinking?’ Liz asked.
‘Half the bottle has gone. He’s a solid fellow. Must have been reared on a good paddock.’
‘I breastfed him. I wanted to because I reckoned I might not get another chance.’
Frances nodded.
‘He’s not bad, is he?’ Liz asked with obvious pride. ‘What do you think of your first grandchild, Mrs Baxter?’
Shocked, Frances looked at her for affirmation.
‘Yes, he’s Greg’s,’ said Liz. ‘He looks more like Greg than me.’
‘Greg, how could you not tell me?’ Frances asked, turning to her son.
‘I didn’t know until quite recently,’ he said, just as Liz said, ‘Greg didn’t know until he was several weeks old.’ They both laughed.
‘Greg wanted to surprise you,’ Liz explained. ‘You fell into his trap when you offered to come up here with him.’
‘Isn’t he the schemer?’
‘I learned from the best, Mum,’ Baxter said with a laugh, remembering that he’d recently accused her of exactly the same thing. She narrowed her eyes at him.
‘But how come,’ she said, addressing Liz, ‘I didn’t get to meet you when I came down to Moondilla? You’ve had a baby together and I hardly know a thing about you. Greg certainly kept you quiet.’
Baxter wasn’t sure how to explain their relationship to his mother, but Liz just smiled and said, ‘We’re good friends and we spent one night together.’
‘Well, I never!’ Frances laughed and cuddled the baby closer. ‘When he’s older you must come and stay with me, Liz. What did you call him?’
‘Gregory James,’ Liz said.
‘This is very exciting.’ Frances’s eyes were shining. ‘If I’d known, I’d have brought a bottle of champagne!’
‘Oh, that’s all right, I’ve got champagne,’ said Liz. ‘Greg won’t drink it but we can, Mrs Baxter.’
‘Frances! Please call me Frances.’
•
The women drank champagne while Baxter had his usual orange juice, and then they sat down to a wholesome lunch. Afterwards, the three of them settled Gregory James into his nursery for an afternoon nap. Frances headed to bed herself, pleading exhaustion from the heat, and Baxter sat drinking iced tea with Liz on the wide verandah.
‘There’s something I want to tell you about, Liz,’ said Baxter. ‘It concerns his Lordship in a roundabout sort of way.’
‘What is it, Greg?’
‘I want to tell you a story. It’s about a girl who died not so long ago. Her name was Rosa Craig, and she was a prostitute. I knew her when I lived in Sydney.’
Liz laughed, disbelieving. ‘Don’t tell me you were with a prostitute?’
‘Never. I did hold Rosa’s hand, but that was when she was dying.’ His voice roughened. ‘She’d overdosed on heroin.’
‘Oh, Greg.’
‘It wasn’t a very nice way for a nineteen-year-old to die, especially without a single member of her family at her bedside. There was only Mum and me in the room at St Vincent’s Hospital.’
So Baxter told Liz about Rosa and Prue, about the Craig family in Albury, and about Alan the Pimp.
‘What I came to understand,’ he said, ‘is just how important it is to show a child—whether young or a teenager like Rosa—how much you love him or her. I would hate to think that young Greg ever felt that he wasn’t loved.’
‘I couldn’t love him more than I do,’ Liz said passionately. ‘He’s practically my whole life.’
Baxter knew this was true, but he couldn’t help being concerned. Not after everything he’d seen and learned. ‘Soon enough our son will be a big lump of a teenager and much harder to handle. You won’t have an easy task, whether you’re raising him on your own or with a step-parent. Being a parent is a lot tougher proposition than it used to be. There are less jobs and more drugs, and affluence doesn’t guarantee that kids won’t be affected. It’s parents that make the difference.’
‘You don’t need to worry. I’ll never neglect our son.’ Liz looked across at Baxter, and then got up and came to him. She sat on his lap and rested her face against his cheek. ‘Rosa’s death must have affected you a lot, honey,’ she said softly.
‘More than you could possibly imagine. But I had one thing in my favour . . . a great mother.’
‘Well, I plan on being there for our son every day of his life, like your mum was for you—and hopefully he’ll end up a lot like you.’
•
When they left the next afternoon, Liz was tearful and held Baxter close to her. ‘Look after yourself, Greg. Bye Chief,’ she said, and crouched down to hug the big dog.
‘Say goodbye to Pat for us,’ said Baxter. The ringer had shown them around the property a little at sunset and then had dinner with them, telling Baxter all about cattle farming. ‘She appears to be a straight shooter.’
‘I will,’ Liz said. ‘Pat likes you too—she’s out looking at cattle or she’d be here.’
‘You will come and see me, won’t you, Liz?’ Frances said, and hugged her. Baxter had left the two women alone that morning for a long chat, and he’d returned to find them as thick as thieves.
‘I promise, Frances.’
‘And if ever you need any help, no matter what it might be, you should come straight to me,’ Frances added.
‘Thank you. I can see why Greg is what he is.’ Liz smiled at mother and son. ‘Young Greg will have a super grandmother.’
•
They were well on the way, though still in the scrub, before Baxter spoke.
‘Happy?’ he asked.
‘Happier than I expected to be. Liz is a fine woman. So how come you didn’t introduce her to me in Moondilla?’
‘I never considered her as a marriage partner. And I tried not to get too close to her because of Julie,’ he admitted.
‘You must have got very close to her to produce young Gregory James,’ Frances observed.
‘Close enough for that, yes, but not for more.’ He glanced at his mother, afraid he’d see disappointment on her face. ‘I suppose it isn’t all that you wanted—Liz isn’t family. But she does have my son. Half a loaf is better than no loaf at all.’
‘I couldn’t ever think of that lovely baby as half a loaf!’
‘Well if there are no more, he’ll have to do,’ Baxter said.
‘He’ll defin
itely do, whether there are more or not,’ Frances said firmly. ‘He’s very like you were at that age.’
‘Beats me how you can remember. But if you’re happy, I’m happy.’
CHAPTER FORTY
There hadn’t been much time for Baxter to think with his mother beside him on the long trip to and from Rockhampton, and thinking was what he needed to do. There were aspects of his life that were far from satisfactory.
It wasn’t that he was unhappy: he lived in a great location, he had his own boat and the fishing was very good; he owned a great dog, he’d nearly finished his first novel and he was developing a network of fair dinkum friends. Best of all, he believed that Mr Garland would have been proud of the work he’d done to help Moondilla. But what he didn’t have was a wife or even a woman who could be described as a girlfriend.
Julie Rankin was unarguably a great friend. There was a degree of closeness between them that Baxter appreciated, but it was more like the closeness of brother and sister. It was a mateship that never expanded beyond a certain point, and he couldn’t help finding this disappointing. The fact was, he knew now that no other woman would fit into his life as Julie would. He wanted to have children with her and for their family to be the rock to which he could attach his life.
They’d long since got over any awkwardness about being together, whether in his house or on his boat, and he knew that Julie trusted him never to touch her. Tough, because she was very touchable—there was never a day when he didn’t want to touch her. But Julie seemed perfectly content with the status quo. It was a predicament to which he couldn’t supply an answer. The answer had to come from Julie, and she was no closer to supplying it than when he’d arrived back in Moondilla.
The situation was made even more trying because his mother had so much time for Julie and wanted her to be his wife. Frances imagined that he wasn’t trying hard enough to win Julie over, but he knew there wasn’t anything more he could do. He’d partly got his mother off his back about her desire for grandchildren, but despite her words of support, he knew she wanted him to raise kids in a conventional relationship.
He was now fairly certain that Liz’s one-night visit to him had been contrived partly in the hope that she would conceive a child. Julie hadn’t told him this straight out, but had gone into some detail about a woman’s peak period for conception, a subject with which he’d been totally unfamiliar. It wasn’t a one-off discussion, because Julie often, even while they were fishing together, veered into medical matters.
Julie had a gift for making such matters easily understandable, which convinced him that she’d make a great lecturer. Baxter never found her boring. She was a very intelligent woman, and he loved her. He’d never said this outright, but then it seemed Julie didn’t want to hear it: after all, she’d never displayed outright affection for him. She liked him as a mate and treated him as a mate and as someone she could relax with to a certain degree as a break away from medicine.
There was never a time when he could entirely forget that she was a doctor and surgeon. Baxter knew that some women around town called her ‘uppity’, or what passed for uppity—but people everywhere respected her. And she’d still sit with Baxter on his jetty or in his boat in old jeans and a man’s shirt and talk fishing. She’d read his fishing magazines from cover to cover and could discuss every article in them.
Julie Rankin was, in almost every aspect, a jewel of a woman. It seemed, though, that she’d always hold Baxter at arm’s length. He wondered if he could ever accept that this was the way things had to be.
•
Baxter had spent a night and a morning with his mother in Killara before leaving for Moondilla. He was looking forward to getting back to his writing and some fishing. And to seeing Julie.
He’d rung her from Sydney and told her when he’d be back, and she’d assured him that she’d watered everything and that the veggie garden hadn’t suffered from any lack of attention. Vegetables and fruit rated very highly with Julie—she was always stressing their value in a diet. He told himself to be grateful for her caring friendship, and said to her that he hoped she’d come to visit him as soon as she was able.
Between him making stops for Chief and investigating various roadside stalls, it was getting on for evening when Baxter arrived at the Riverview gate. For some reason, the big outside light was on—he thought Julie or one of the Lewises must have forgotten to switch it off. But then he noticed that the yellow insect light on the front verandah had been replaced by a green light, and this puzzled him.
Chief, pleased to be home, was out of the car in a flash when Baxter pulled up beside the house. And there was Julie, waiting at the bottom of the verandah steps to greet man and dog.
‘This is a nice surprise,’ Baxter said as he got out of the car.
‘What is?’ she asked.
‘You being here to greet me,’ he said, smiling.
‘Ah. I thought it would be much nicer to come home to an open house.’ There was a strange expression in her eyes, one he didn’t think he’d seen before. ‘Weary?’
‘Not too bad, but it was a long enough drive. Much better having Mum with me for most of the way there and back. She did some of the driving.’
‘How did the Great Woman take to the baby?’ Julie asked, as they walked into the house and Baxter set his haversack down by the door.
‘Shocked at first,’ he said, ‘because he was the last thing she expected—but thrilled too. Over the moon, really. It’s put a new interest in her life. She was very pally with Liz when we left. Mum says Gregory James is a lot like I was as a baby, which pleased Liz no end.’
‘It would, knowing what she thinks of you,’ Julie said, a little too brightly. ‘Well, I’ve got some fillet steak for dinner because it won’t take long to cook. We can have some veggies with it, and I found a rhubarb pie in your freezer.’
‘Sounds good. I could eat a horse,’ he said. They started preparing the food. ‘Any problems while I was away? How’s Ian?’
‘Still recovering,’ Julie said with a sigh. ‘The latest news is that he may be invalided out of the police force.’
After he’d been promoted to Inspector! Baxter was stunned. ‘What does he have to say about that?’
‘As you can expect, he’s not happy about the prospect. The force has been his life and he’s totally committed to stopping drug pushers.’ Baxter wondered if Julie knew about Latham’s older brother. ‘But I think he’s done enough,’ she said, ‘and it’s not that he wouldn’t have something to occupy him—he’s a very fine painter.’
‘Is he really? I wondered about that. I’m not a great judge of art by any stretch, but it seemed to me that he wasn’t putting much effort into his beachscapes.’
‘I thought the same thing, but he’s been painting in the hospital and one day he showed me a piece that surprised me. Streets ahead of anything else he’d done.’
‘Maybe he was simply putting in time while he kept an eye on the drug mob?’
Julie nodded. ‘I think he’s good enough to hold an exhibition, and maybe he will if he’s invalided out.’
‘Ian is one of the better men I’ve known,’ Baxter said.
‘I’ll second that.’
Baxter watched Julie as she moved about the kitchen. Something was puzzling him. Throughout the whole time he’d known her—even as a young woman—she had always been slightly aloof. Here, tonight, she was acting like a different person altogether. Gone was the superior air, replaced by a warm demeanour he’d never known in her. It was as if she was chatting to a husband or partner while preparing dinner and eating with him in her own home.
Moreover, when dinner was over, Julie exhibited no desire to leave. The washing-up done, she sat on a lounge and looked at him. He came to sit beside her.
‘Something troubling you, Julie?’ he asked.
She immediately seemed nervous, her eyes darting to the side. ‘Why? Do I appear as if I’m troubled?’
‘You appear a fair b
it different to usual.’
‘What’s usual?’ she asked.
‘It’s as if you don’t want people to forget that you’re a doctor . . . a superior person. You were like that when you came to me as a young woman, and you’ve never changed. You’ve always stood apart from everyone else.’
She laughed softly. ‘I’d suppose I can’t argue the point with you on that score.’
‘So what’s going on tonight?’ he asked.
‘Well, while you were away . . . I’ve made some quite big decisions,’ she said. Her hands were clasped tightly on her lap, and she still wasn’t looking at him. ‘Prompted partly by a conversation I had with Ian in the hospital.’
Baxter sat up straighter, remembering what he’d told Latham: I’d like to have kids and I’d like to have them with Julie. It gets me down some days, but I don’t know what I can do to change her mind. Had his mate tried to meddle?
‘Don’t worry, Ian didn’t betray any confidences,’ said Julie. ‘He just talked about how you’re a remarkable fellow for wanting the police to take the credit for the Campanelli operation—that anyone else would have wanted to be a hero. And . . .’
‘And?’
‘I said it was in your nature—that you just wanted to focus on your book. I told him . . . I told him you were the best man I’d ever known, next to my late father. So then he asked when I was going to marry you!’ Colour had crept into her cheeks.
Baxter waited for her to say more, but she fell silent. ‘Well?’ he prompted.
‘I said I thought about it every day. I’ve come to realise that I’d like to have children and not be too old when I have them.’ There were tears in her voice, though not in her eyes. ‘But I explained that I doubt I could be the woman you’d expect me to be as your wife. Medicine is so important to me and I couldn’t give it up. I’m not like Liz—I could never stack up to her. I’d end up disappointing you.’
This was a revelation to Baxter. That Julie hadn’t thought he would want her, the way she really was, had never occurred to him.