Master of Maramba

by Margaret Way

  Carrie’s breath literally whistled. “Wh-a-a-t!” She pulled up her long legs so swiftly a great armoured reptile might have lunged out of the water beneath her.

  “Not here, silly.” Reggie giggled. “This is freshwater. So are the billabongs. I’m talking about upcountry. Royce might take us. Up near the estuary where the salties, that’s the salt water crocodiles, come in. Not so many as there used to be. You don’t think Royce would let us swim anywhere there was a salt water croc?”

  “Hang on, I’m feeling a little weak,” Carrie begged, still startled. “No, of course not. You gave me a start.”

  “I’m so sorry!” Reggie sweetly apologised. “I didn’t mean to. I was hoping you’d ask Royce to take us upcountry. We could go in the helicopter.”

  “I don’t know I’m all that interested in meeting your rough-skinned pals,” Carrie said wryly.

  “They’re fascinating!” Reggie breathed. “The first time I saw one out of the water I thought it was a great big log.”

  “Some log!” Carrie shuddered, turning her head at some disturbance behind them.

  A lone rider was coming down the trail, calling out to them as he approached. “Want some company?”

  “Nah, you’re supposed to be working,” Reggie called back, laughing. “I’ll tell Royce.”

  “Gimme a break, princess.” The rider dismounted, hitching his horse’s reins to a branch. He was young, lanky, whip-cord thin, attractive with straw-coloured curls and bright hazel eyes. His name was Tim Barton. He was the son of a wealthy Melbourne merchant banker, a long-time friend of the McQuillan family, and he was doing a year’s work experience on Maramba as a jackeroo. A kind of toughening-up process before he joined the family firm, Carrie gathered. She had met Tim several times on her trips around the station and quite liked him though it was obvious Tim wasn’t taking his duties as seriously as he might have done. On his own admission he wanted to exact every bit of colour and fun he could out of his stay. Carrie he had taken to at first glance.

  Now he ambled down the grassy slope, swaggering a little in his riding boots, cream Akubra in hand.

  “How are you, Carrie?” He stared at her with open admiration, eagerly soaking her in.

  “Fine, Tim.” She gave him an uncomplicated smile. “Doesn’t this come under the category of wasting time?”

  He laughed good-naturedly. “Never wasting time talking to a pretty girl. Girls.” He bowed in Reggie’s direction.

  Reggie shook her curly mop. “You’re here to see Carrie. Royce said you fancy yourself as a lady’s man.”

  Tim’s ears reddened. “You’re something, you are, Reggie. Carrie taught you to swim yet?”

  “The water’s not warm enough,” Reggie explained. “Like an apple?”

  “No way I’m going to take it off you.”

  “That’s okay.” Reggie threw a shiny red apply his way. “What do you want, anyway?”

  Tim glanced at Carrie, a wry expression in his eyes. “I swear this kid’s a grown woman. Actually I wanted to ask Carrie if she’d like to go riding at the weekend. I know plenty of great trails. I have Saturday afternoon off.”

  “Sure, we’d love to come,” Reggie answered promptly for both of them.

  “I don’t know that I asked you, princess,” Tim said mildly. “Anyway, you’re too little to ride.”

  “I am not! Don’t say that,” Reggie answered indignantly. “I haven’t been ready for it, but I am now. Carrie is going to teach me.”

  “Seems to me Carrie doesn’t get enough time to herself,” Tim exclaimed.

  “Carrie is my governess,” Reggie answered him primly. “Maybe we could go in the Rav?”

  “Why not!” Carrie took pity on Tim. “Does that suit you?” She gave him a lazy smile, wishing it was Royce McQuillan who had asked her to go riding.

  “You can’t get rid of this sweetheart for the day?” Tim only half joked.

  “No, she can’t,” Reggie said, grinning and showing the wide space between her front teeth. “I’ll be—” she snapped her fingers “—what’s that word…?”

  “Chaperone?” Tim asked sarcastically.

  “That’s it!” Reggie crowed. “Anyway, Carrie has a boyfriend at home.”

  “Have you?” Tim looked at Carrie with a twisted grin. “Why wouldn’t you, you’re so beautiful!”

  “I bet they’re going to get engaged,” Reggie said. “Carrie is going to sell the pictures to Woman’s Day.”

  Carrie stood up, laughing, looking around for the colourful matching sarong to tie around her waist. “Reggie’s talking about a friend of the family. I believe she was offered twenty-five thousand dollars for wedding pictures.”

  “You think she’ll accept?” Tim flashed the child a glance.

  “You bet she will,” said Reggie airily.

  Both Carrie and Tim burst out laughing, which was the way Royce McQuillan found them. What a tableau! he thought. Innocent youth, carefree, snatching fun, yet it irritated him enormously.

  Tim, who really needed ticking off, was looking at the very light-clad Carrie with a positively worshipful expression on his face; Carrie, all pale honey limbs and an exceptionally beautiful body apparently quite unselfconscious under that drooling regard; Reggie, sitting happily on a rock munching on a red apple.

  Royce sat his bay stallion for a moment easing back on his frown before calling out to the young jackeroo. “Tim, aren’t you supposed to be giving Lance a hand?”

  Immediately Tim spun around, all respect. “Sorry, boss. I heard the girls splashing so I decided to come down and say hello.”

  “I’m sure they appreciated that,” Royce clipped off. “Say goodbye now and get on with it. There’s a whole lot more for you to do before sundown.” He had taken it fairly easy on Tim knowing Tim was basically filling in time but the boy’s little breaks were becoming too frequent. He would have a private word with him later on in the day.

  “See you Saturday, then, Carrie?” Tim murmured swiftly, watching Royce McQuillan dismount.

  “Better get going, Tim,” Carrie said, reading the older man’s body language. “I’ll pick you up at two outside the bunkhouse.”

  “That’ll be great!”

  “So long, Tim!” Reggie called brightly. “We might take a nice picnic.”

  Picnic? Royce walked on, pretending not to hear. As Tim reached him he added a few more instructions, then he continued on to the spring, its dark green surface sparkling with tiny bubbles like the bubbles in champagne.

  “How’s it going?” he asked, watching Carrie stoop gracefully to pick up a sarong which she tied native-fashion around her slender hips.

  “Really, really good,” Reggie said in a high sweet voice, looking more like a little boy than a girl in her serviceable T-shirt and shorts, but she was filling out, McQuillan thought with satisfaction. There was flesh on those little chicken bones. And she looked contented, eyes bright, a ready smile on her lips.

  “How long has Tim been here?” he asked, avoiding sounding stern.

  “Only a few minutes,” Carrie supplied, trying to fathom why when she never felt the least bit self-conscious in her bathing suit in front of Tim she felt close to stark naked under Royce McQuillan’s brilliant gaze. Not that he was looking at her in any sexual way. All in all the look was a mix of arrogance and irritation.

  “He asked us out Saturday,” Reggie supplied with enthusiasm.

  “I don’t believe it,” he said.

  “You’d better believe it.” Reggie nodded her head owlishly. “It’s true, isn’t it, Carrie? I think he’s fallen in love with her,” she told Royce in an aside.

  “Nonsense,” said Carrie, not at all disconcerted by the child.

  “Hold on, he isn’t available Saturday.” Royce bent his gaze on the child’s face.

  “That’s awful,” said Reggie. “He said he was.”

  “I know how disappointed you must be,” Royce glanced briefly at Carrie who looked more than ever like a day lily. “Tim
just occasionally forgets he’s supposed to be here to work. He had last weekend in town.”

  “Gee, we were going on a picnic,” Reggie told him dolefully.

  “Okay so I’ll take you,” Royce said.

  Reggie rushed at him, grasping him around the knees. “You promise?”

  “Reggie, I’m a man of my word.” He ruffled her curls.

  Reggie gave a whoop of delight. “And I love you!” she yelled. “Don’t you just love him, too?” Reggie turned her head to appeal to Carrie.

  “Your father is a wonderful man,” Carrie said sweetly, feeling her face flushing.

  “Why thank you, Catrina,” he drawled with just the faintest hint of mockery.

  “I mean, everyone says it,” she added.

  “Let’s all pray for a beautiful day.” He let his eyes rest on her until she felt her knees buckle.

  “So where are we going?” Reggie asked, clinging to his hand.

  “I’ll have to give that some heavy thought,” he told the child. “If we make it a day trip we could take the helicopter and visit the rainforest. We’d have to leave the helicopter, of course. Set up the next leg of the trip.”

  “Oh, can’t we, Royce?” Reggie sounded thrilled out of her mind at the offer. “I’ll be so good. Carrie will love it.”

  “It sounds marvellous.” Carrie, too, found herself responding with enthusiasm. “But what am I going to do about Tim?” She looked directly into Royce’s sparkling jet eyes.

  “I’ll tell him,” he said.

  When Lindsey heard about the proposed trip to the rainforest she decided she wanted to go. “It will make a nice break in the monotony,” she said as they lingered over coffee.

  “If you’re bored, my dear, you could always take a trip to Brisbane. You have friends there,” her husband told her.

  “It’s no fun on my own.” Lindsey regarded him coolly. “They’re all happily married. No one wants a woman on her own. If you’re young enough and attractive enough you’re seen as a threat. No, the rainforest will do fine.”

  “I’ll have to check with Reggie,” Royce McQuillan said smoothly. “It’s her trip.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Lindsey flared.

  “Indeed, I am. You and Reggie aren’t exactly on the best of terms.”

  “In fact, my dear,” Cameron McQuillan said mildly, “You’ve given the child a rather bad time.”

  Lindsey blinked. “That’s a bit much,” she protested. “Regina has been a lot more civil since Carrie arrived. I scarcely ever hear her uttering her swearwords anymore.”

  “She might break out again if I tell her we’re taking extras,” Royce said, swallowed his coffee hot and strong. “Needless to say, Lyn, I’d love you to come along.”

  Reggie, when she did hear Lindsey wanted to come, whipped out her worst word, so cross she scarcely heard Carrie’s remonstration. “She’ll spoil everything,” Reggie fumed. “She always does. She’ll want to talk to Royce all the time. It’s no good trying to get a word in. Why doesn’t he just tell her she can’t come?”

  Carrie swallowed. “I expect he’s concerned about hurting your uncle Cam’s feelings. After all, Lindsey is his wife.”

  Reggie sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands. “I knew it was too good to be true. I wish she’d step on a taipan.”

  Carrie crouched down beside the child. “Oh, don’t say that, sweetheart,” she shuddered. “You mustn’t say things like that. God is listening.”

  “He knows how nasty I am,” Reggie said with a helpless shrug. “Can’t you please ask Royce not to take her? He listens to you.”

  “I don’t know that he will,” Carrie groaned, not happy about Lindsey’s coming along on the trip, either.

  “He’s very pleased with the way you take care of me. He told me. Anyway he doesn’t even like Lindsey. Want to hear something? He and Gran begged Uncle Cam not to marry her. Uncle Cam should have listened. You should hear what Aunty Ina calls her, and they’re supposed to be friends.”

  “No, thank you, Reggie. I don’t want to know.”

  “Well, it’s slut,” Reggie muttered.

  “How very unkind. You’ve been listening to far too much talk for a little girl.” Carrie frowned.

  “That’s because they forget I’m there. I don’t want her to come, Carrie. Please speak to Royce.”

  So Carrie waited that night for Royce McQuillan to go to his study, then she followed him.

  “May I have a word?”

  “Come in,” he said briefly. “Shut the door. I suppose you could even lock it.”

  “Isn’t that a bit drastic?” She glanced behind her.

  “It’s the only way to keep people out.”

  “Am I people?” she asked nervously.

  “No, you’re okay.” He gave her just a glimpse of his beautiful smile. “Fire away.”

  Carrie slipped into a chair facing his massive partners desk. Directly behind him was a portrait of his grandfather, Sir Andrew McQuillan, a handsome stern-faced man with thick, silvered hair in stark contrast to the now familiar jet-black eyes. The artist had caught perfectly the aura of power and distinction.

  “Reggie has asked me to beg you not to take Lindsey on our trip,” Carrie began.

  “Splendid!” He looked up from some paper in front of him. “I don’t just insult Lindsey, you know. I insult my uncle.”

  “I know. It’s a difficult situation.”

  “My God, tell me about it!” he invited. “Problems and troubles. That’s what my life’s been up to date.”

  “You might solve a few things if you…”

  “Show them the door?”

  “I wasn’t going to put it quite so bluntly.”

  He was silent for a while, staring at her. “I like you in white. White for the pure of heart.”

  “It’s cool in the heat. Are you sure we’re not going to get a storm?”

  “Are you feeling in need of a bit of excitement?” he asked suavely.

  “I’m just commenting on the heat of the night. The humidity is very high, as well.”

  “The tropics, Catrina.” He stood up and flicked a switch that drove a five-bladed dark timber and brass fan. “Better?” He looked down at her. Her beautiful skin was matt and flawless. Hair and eyes shone. She looked the picture of youth, beauty and health. In fact she tore his sore heart.

  “Thank you. So what do I tell her?”

  “Tell her she’s the one who spilt the beans,” he said dryly, resuming his seat.

  “She was excited, that’s all. It was my own reaction.”

  “I’ll have a word with Reggie,” he told her.

  “Don’t you ever want her to call you daddy?” Carrie found herself asking wistfully.

  “Royce is a good name,” he answered crisply. “It’s on my birth certificate. You’re sure not backward in coming forward, are you?”

  “I suppose not. I plunge right in. It’s just that it seems a little…” She shrugged. “Reggie loves you so much. I’m certain letting her call you Royce is well intentioned, but daddy has to be one of the most beautiful words in the world.”

  “Thank you for sharing that with me, Miss Russell,” he mocked, “but you must respect my decision to allow Reggie to call me Royce.”

  “I’m sorry.” Carrie bit her lip.

  “I trust you are. Whose idea was it for Jada to give Reggie drawing lessons?”

  “Mine. You should see them together. They love it. I can’t draw very well at all.”

  “Surely you have enough talents. Like your music.” He stared at her with his lancing eyes. “If you don’t go to the piano soon you’ll forget how to play.”

  “The piano is all covered up.”

  “What an excuse. I’ll have the cover removed. If you’re qualified to give advice, so am I. I’m sympathetic to your great disappointment, Catrina, but, we agreed, I thought, you can’t brood on it overmuch. Try to let go of the pain. I’m genuinely very interested in hearing what you can do.
Want to try playing something?”

  “No,” she said emphatically, backing off when faced with it.

  “Okay,” he said equably, “not tonight. You probably want to practise first.”

  “I hate you.” She looked at him and suddenly her great golden eyes blazed.

  He sat back casually. “I can live with it. However, if you dare repeat it, I’ll terminate your employment.”

  “Would you?” Her anger evaporated.

  “Not really. I value your services too highly. Now, Catrina, I have work to do. Tell Reggie, on condition she can keep her mouth shut, there’ll be just the three of us.”

  “You’re saying you’re going to tell Lindsey she can’t come?”

  “You’re questioning I’m not game enough to try it?”

  “No way!” Carrie stood up and smiled. “I figure you can handle just about anything.”

  Carrie was making her way along the quiet gallery when Lindsey emerged from her private sitting room to call her. “Can you spare me a minute of your precious time?”

  It wasn’t the friendliest greeting in the world but Carrie answered pleasantly. “Certainly, Mrs. McQuillan.” She’d taken note of the fact Lindsey McQuillan preferred the formal address.

  “Come in,” Lindsey indicated with an abrupt movement of her hand Carrie should join her in the sitting room which was furnished with fine pieces taken from all over the house. If nothing else Lindsey enjoyed luxury, Carrie thought. She had never seen Lindsey in the same outfit twice. All of her clothes bore a top designer label. In the heat of this night she was wearing a deeply dipping short sapphire-coloured dress which enhanced her eyes, matching sandals on her feet. She could have worn it to the most chic party but she dressed day in, day out to dazzle. For a married woman, her judgement was seriously under question.

  Carrie felt yet another stab of pity for her, wondering how and where Cameron McQuillan had met his wife and married her despite deep family misgivings. Reggie, who had heard far too much for a child, let alone one of her tender years, was a mine of information.

  “I saw you follow Royce to his study,” Lindsey said in an intense accusing voice, moving into an armchair and crossing her legs. “What was that all about?”