by Margaret Way
Dev shot Mel a look. “Don’t say a word, Mel.” His tone was quietly controlled but his eyes blazed. “The world never did revolve around my grandfather, Sarina. For your information, we had to wait in line for take-off. These things happen. You can take us up to his room now. We really don’t need your censure.”
Sarina sobered visibly. “Forgive me, but Amelia could have come days earlier.” She knew she was in no position to take on the splendid, the commanding James Devereaux Landon, who even now made her blood run hot.
“She’s here now,” Dev clipped off. His stomach was churning as he sensed the violent sensations that were running through Sarina.
Sarina turned to lead the way. The reception rooms, living, dining, lay to either side entered through archways. The grand staircase with its beautiful metalwork as delicate as lace curved away to the right. Sunlight fell through the huge stained-glass windows on both storeys. A portrait of a beautiful dark haired, dark eyed woman faced them as they moved up from the first landing. It was a magnificent bravura painting circa eighteen-hundred that bore a resemblance to Sarina. Maybe that was the reason Gregory Langdon had bought the painting. Dev had often wondered why his grandmother hadn’t ordered the painting to be taken down but perhaps she had blinded herself to the likeness.
They were moving down the gallery to Gregory Langdon’s suite of rooms when Ava emerged, hurrying towards them, arms outstretched. It couldn’t have presented a more striking contrast to the way Sarina had greeted them. Ava wasn’t smiling. It wasn’t the time to smile, but there was love and warmth in her face. Relief, too, that they had come.
Ava was the real angel in the Langdon midst. A gentle person pitted against a high-octane family. Dev and Ava were alike enough to be twins—the blond hair, black-fringed aquamarine eyes, fine-chiselled features, the Langdon cleft chin, which was more a shallow dent in Ava’s case. It was their personalities that couldn’t have been more different. Dev had looked after Ava her whole life, and he was deeply upset when she had married Luke Selwyn.
Ava went to her brother first, throwing her arms around him and burying her head against his shoulder before turning to Mel.
“Too long since I’ve seen you, Mel,” she said, tears in her eyes. Both young women went into a heartfelt hug.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Mel said. “I’m so sorry it had to be on this occasion.” She couldn’t bring herself to say sad. Gregory Langdon might have been an incredible man, but he’d had difficulty in expressing his love for just about everyone. Except Sarina. No wonder it had incurred so much jealousy, hatred and despair.
“Who’s with Granddad?” Dev asked his sister, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Dad, of course. A few of the others.”
Ava, though beautiful and gifted in so many directions—she painted beautifully, was a fine pianist—was just the daughter of the family, her given role to marry well. This was a man’s world. No question. Mel was one female who had rebelled against it, even if she knew running a vast cattle station like Kooraki really was much too tough a job for any one woman.
“I won’t go in,” Mel said when they were outside Gregory Langdon’s door. “I’m not family.” Gregory was dead in any case. Her mother’s attitude had upset her dreadfully. It was always Gregory Langdon in life and in death. Had Sarina loved her poor father at all?
Well, had she?
When had Sarina first fallen under Gregory Langdon’s spell or was it vice versa? When had she become his mistress? That was a subject never to be approached. It was wrong, so wrong, the great wall of silence. It had always put a tense and very uncomfortable strain between her and Dev. It couldn’t have happened, surely, when her mother and father lived on Maru Downs? It couldn’t have happened when Mireille was alive. Mireille would have watched them both like a hawk.
Would they have dared?
You bet they would.
Dev didn’t insist. He nodded to Mel, signifying her decision was okay with him, before putting his arm around his sister, leading her back into the bedroom. Mel and her mother were left alone.
Speak to me, Mum. I’m here. I’m really here.
Sarina kept her head down, her expression deeply introspective.
“That was a wonderful welcome, Mum.” Mel broke the silence, trying to find pity in her heart.
Sarina’s glossy dark head shot up. “How could you expect a welcome at a time like this?” She stared back at her daughter with huge black lustrous eyes.
“Oddly enough, I did. Just goes to show how little I really know you. But then, all I know is what you wanted me to know. You turned into Gregory Langdon’s creature.”
Sarina made a most uncharacteristic move. She lashed out at her daughter, striking her across the face. “How dare you?” she cried. “I never want to hear such a thing again.”
Mel didn’t deign to touch a hand to her hot smarting cheek, thinking she actually heard her heart break. “I won’t say it again, Mum. I’ve said it once and I meant it. You put both of us into a prison for which Gregory Langdon had the key. I, for one, am not sorry he’s dead. He was a tyrant. And you became a hollow woman. Don’t forget I’m my father’s daughter. Someone has to speak for him.”
Sarina looked genuinely shocked. All thought of Michael Norton, her dead husband, appeared lost to the past. “Why would you hate Gregory so?” She gave Mel a black look. “He did so much for you.”
That provoked Mel’s fiery response. “Even now you bypass my father for him. Open your eyes, Mum. He did it for you. You were his captive. He brought you to Kooraki. You were the real reason he gave Dad a promotion. He wanted you around. The man dominated your life. He tried to dominate mine but that wasn’t on.”
“Well, he’s dead now, Amelia,” her mother said starkly, fearing where her daughter might go with her accusations. The thing Sarina admired most in her daughter she also feared. Mel said what she thought. She didn’t keep it locked away inside her as she had done all her life.
“Then I’d say neither of us will be welcome within these walls. We’re outsiders, Mum.”
Sarina blinked fiercely. “I know Gregory has looked after me.”
“Of course! You got it right from the horse’s mouth.”
“When did you start to become so hard, so unforgiving, Amelia?” Sarina asked in a fierce whisper.
“When I overheard Mireille Langdon calling you a conniving slut,” Mel said jaggedly. “Remember how I attacked her. You had to pull me off. I was desperate for us to move out after that.”
Sarina’s beautiful face worked. “Where?” She kept her cry muffled, although the door of Gregory Langdon’s bedroom was so thick and heavy it was virtually soundproof. “I was turned out of my parents’ home,” she cried emotionally. “How could I endure it all over again?’
A loud roaring filled Mel’s head. “Finally the truth!” She threw up her hands. “How about that? Turned out? The story was you escaped. Mum, was that a total cover-up? I’m even beginning to wonder if every word that comes out of your mouth is a lie. Why were you turned out? For that matter, why did you make your way to North Queensland? Australia is a vast place. You could have shifted to anywhere in Victoria or New South Wales, not travel thousands of miles. You and your secrets! Going to take them to the grave, are you? You’ve made life so complicated. What to believe, what not to believe. Yet you seem quite comfortable with your inventions. I find it horrible to think my own mother may be a pathological liar. You’ve never let me in. For all I know, you never let Dad in. But I bet you told Gregory Langdon your whole desperately sorry story. In bed. How did you manage it? When did you manage it? Did he have you on Maru when Dad was away on a muster? Did Gregory send him away? I wouldn’t be a bit surprised. Gregory was your great anchor in life, wasn’t he? Not my dad, Michael.”
“No!” Sarina burst out, making Mel recoil at the level of protest.
Her breathing had speeded up so much Mel had difficulty speaking, “No, what?” There was an iciness in the pi
t of her stomach. It was spreading to her limbs, her arms and her legs. She didn’t think she could prevent herself from turning into a pillar of ice. “No, what, Mum?” she repeated in a choked voice. “You’re not going to tell me Gregory Langdon was my father?” The cold waves had turned to a roaring tsunami. “I think I’ll kill you if you do. Or kill myself.”
Sarina was the very picture of outrage. “You’re crazy—crazy!” she cried, vehemence in her black eyes. She turned away to slump into one of the baronial-style chairs that were lined up at intervals against the wall. “Gregory Langdon was not your father, Amelia. I insist you beg my forgiveness. And his. On your bended knees if you have to.”
Mel’s eyes locked on her mother’s. “I’m too busy asking myself if I know you at all. I won’t be begging forgiveness, Mum. Anything was possible with the two of you. I’m the one who deserved better. I spent my time fighting your battles for you. I was only a kid. Why couldn’t you fight your own battles? There are plenty of strong women out there that do. Women left with half a dozen kids to rear alone. You would have received government assistance.”
Sarina didn’t deign to answer. When she did look up there was stony condemnation on her face. “Don’t presume to judge me.”
Mel emitted an incredulous laugh. “You’re a shape-shifter, aren’t you?”
“And what would that be?” Sarina asked with scorn, unfamiliar with the term.
“It’s a person who can change into anything he or she needs to be to get what they want.”
Sarina gave her small secret smile. “Would that you had such a talent. You have no heart, Amelia. There is something bitterly wrong with you.”
“Well, it would have to be me, wouldn’t it? Not you,” Mel countered. She had such an empty hollow feeling inside her, not unmixed with dread.
“You show no respect. I can’t condone that,” Sarina said. “I have just lost the man I revered with all my heart.”
Mel tried hard to subdue her anger. She looked long and hard at her beautiful mother. “God help you, Mum,” she said, sadly shaking her head. “It seems to me you’ll shed a whole lot more tears for Gregory Langdon than you ever did for my dad.”
Sarina’s full mouth twisted. “I did shed tears for Michael. You think you know about life, Amelia. You know nothing.”
“And whose fault is that?” Mel asked quietly. “Why did you banish all the photographs? There were no wedding photos. No treasured mementos. The only photographs were of me. Anyone would call that strange. You told me it was your way of dealing with the pain of loss. Why is it I now doubt that? Dad was young. You were both young. God, Mum, you don’t look anywhere near your age. Is that a lie, too? If you dressed differently and did your hair more stylishly you could almost be an older sister. What did you do that you had to distance yourself from your family and everything you had ever known? This is the stuff of fiction.”
“Life is stranger than fiction, Amelia.” Sarina jabbed a finger at her daughter as if to underscore her point. “I needed to cut all ties. It’s easy enough to disappear if you need to. Outback life is like flying under the radar, anyway.”
Mel felt a strong sense of unreality. How could you live with a person most of your life, love that person, then find out you didn’t know them at all? Sarina had spun a web of lies around herself. Mel had never seen any wedding certificate. She had seen as a matter of course a copy of her own birth certificate. Michael Norton’s name was on it as Father, Sarina Cavallaro-Norton, Mother. “Cover your face, Mum,” she said sadly. “Cover it in shame.”
Sarina only looked back at her daughter with her great brooding eyes. “I have no need to atone to you. So say no more. My life is not your life. Don’t think it is. You have a life of your own.”
A sense of hopelessness lay like a heavy burden on Mel’s shoulders. “So I’m supposed to accept you’re a made-up person?”
“Just leave it there!” Sarina reiterated in a fury. “If you have any love for me at all. I am not a bad woman. I am just a different woman.”
“You didn’t murder anyone, did you?” Mel asked, only half joking. She knew her mother’s black moods when the shutters came down.
The heat of fury was in Sarina’s flawless cheeks. It was as though Mel had touched on a nerve that was still raw and enormously painful. “How dare you? What I did was fall pregnant. There you have it!” she cried as though she had only confessed under torture. “My parents showed me no support or compassion for such a transgression. I was adored all my life, treated like a princess. Then they decided to hate me. My father looked at me with such disgust in his eyes. He turned on me savagely, became a stranger. I should have known he was half in love with me.”
“Oh, Mum!” Mel visibly recoiled.
“Don’t judge me!” Sarina cried. “His anger wasn’t that of a father. It was that of a jilted lover.”
For a moment Mel, herself, wanted to disappear in a puff of smoke. “Am I supposed to believe this?”
Sarina gave a mirthless laugh. “I don’t care what you believe. I was frightened, but I didn’t think it could be so bad. My mother never went against my father. Never spoke up for me or herself. Mireille Langdon, may she burn in hell, wasn’t the first one to call me a slut. My own mother did. I will never forgive them for turning against me.”
“Mum, you have to tell me more,” Mel begged. “I’m not judging you. Who, then, is my father? Not Michael?” A crushing sadness settled on her heart.
“He was less of a man than I thought,” Sarina snorted.
“So you’re confirming it wasn’t Michael Norton?”
“What does it matter?” Sarina’s voice was taut enough to snap. “One thing I know. I suffered terribly, but I never will again. I don’t need to be questioned by you. You brought me nothing but trouble.”
Mel’s heart shrivelled. “That has to be the worst answer any daughter ever heard.”
“You expect far too much of me, Amelia,” Sarina said. “Suppose we leave it at that? I have no intention of going into details. Some things are best left alone.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Mourners came from near and far, by air and over land—family, friends, representatives of the big pastoral families, business partners, lawyers, a heavy sprinkling of VIPs all overdressed for the heat. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to pay their last respects to this extraordinary man who had built up a vast business empire.
Nothing could have kept Sarina away. She stood apart from the chief mourners, but so stunning in a form-fitting black dress, expensive shoes and black hat that no one could fail to spot her without gasping. Her lovely full mouth was compressed, but her black eyes were defiant—some said triumphant—as if to give notice to all and sundry: I have a perfect right to be here.
Mel looked on, heavy-hearted. It was as though her mother had a glamorous identical twin who had elected to stand in for her. She had spent many years trying to understand her ultra-reserved mother. Now she realized she hadn’t scratched the surface. She too stood well back, experiencing that all-pervading sense of unreality. Sarina had swept the last rug out from under her feet in admitting Michael was not her father.
Who, then?
She meant to find out. She had been fobbed off and lied to long enough.
* * *
It was Ava who kept her company. She and Ava had always had an untroubled relationship. Lovely, graceful Ava was blessed with a soothing manner and a compassionate heart. But Mel, knowing her so well, realized Ava was caught in an unhappy marriage. She had gone into it so rashly. It took living with someone to find the flaws. Mel had uncovered one of Luke Selwyn’s predominant flaws right at the beginning.
When Dev had arrived on Kooraki he had taken charge. Erik was beginning to think he no longer knew his place in the world. The dominant figure in his life was gone. He was devastated. There was no way he thought he could step into his father’s shoes. At the graveside, he became aware of Elizabeth, his estranged wife’s hand slipping into his.
&nb
sp; He turned to look down at her, his expression revealing the immense comfort just her touch gave him.
“We’ll get through this, Erik. Keep strong.”
He couldn’t reply for the lump in his throat. Elizabeth had said we. Surely he could take from that she still cared for him. Could he be blessed enough to win her back? Did he deserve to? There had only ever been one woman for him and that was Elizabeth. He should never have brought her back to Kooraki. That was the worst of it. He couldn’t have gone against his father, who expected him to carry on as usual. In the end Elizabeth had grown to detest his parents. He had thought she had come to the funeral to offer support to their children, Dev and Ava. Now it appeared she was here to offer support to him if he wanted it.
He longed for it with all his heart. All that had stood between them was now gone. He would go down on his knees and beg Elizabeth to come back to him. He would do anything she wanted. He was quite prepared to give up Kooraki, had his father left him in charge. Only he knew his father too well. Gregory Langdon would have left the keys to his kingdom to the man capable of keeping that kingdom not only intact but enlarging it.
He wasn’t the man. Just admitting it made him feel a great surge of relief.
“I’ve missed you so badly, Lisbet,” he murmured as, hand in hand, they retreated to the Land Rover to drive back to the house. “It was all my fault.” His emotions were so extreme, a big man, he found himself trembling.
“Dear Erik, please don’t upset yourself. I was at fault, too. The two of us have been through such a lot, but by the grace of God I feel we’ve been given a second chance. I’ve prayed for it.”
At that heartfelt disclosure he turned Elizabeth into his arms, holding her as though he would never let her go. “You know I won’t hesitate to give up the reins. What you want is the only thing important to me.”