by Margaret Way
Sarina continued to lean her hand against the door. “How could I comfort you, when I was in desperate need of comfort myself?”
Mel nodded, trying very hard to understand. “Tell me, did you love Gregory Langdon or did you simply use him?”
“He was mesmerized by me,” Sarina said, straightening and throwing up her head like a movie queen. “I grew to have strong feelings for him, but, yes, I used him at first to accomplish my goal. Poor Michael aside, I’d have done anything to avenge myself on men. They betray us. Dev is a far, far better man than Gregory could ever have been, but he won’t marry you, Amelia. Listen, because I’m only trying to save you.”
“Too late, Mum. Neither Dev nor I seem able to let go.”
“Are you mad, then?” Sarina rounded on her daughter, great eyes flashing. “You’ve been warned. In the end you’ll find your dreams will dissolve. Just like mine.”
* * *
Great clumps of fiery red earth clustered with wild flowers, were thrown up as the mare’s hoofs thundered across the desert plains. The eroded hills in the distance glowed a salmon pink. By high noon they would have warmed to cinnabar, then furnace-red, heralding a glorious rose-gold sunset. The great prehistoric monuments of the Red Centre underwent spectacular colour changes during the course of a day. Uluru, venerated by the Lorijitas and known to them as Oolera, was a sacred dreaming place created by the all-powerful spirits. It rose over a thousand feet above the desert sands with the great mass of it buried below the sands, a single mighty boulder, the largest monolith in the world. Farther away rose the Olgas, Kata Tjunta, with its fascinating domes and turrets.
Gradually Mel calmed. Silhouetted darkly above her head a lone wedge-tailed eagle was performing its daily ritual, wheeling in higher and higher semicircles. The eagle was sacred to the desert tribes. The budgerigar accompanied her on her ride, clouds of parrot green and gold. She carried the wild beauty of Kooraki, the immensity of it, in her soul. The mare was heading almost of its own accord towards one of the most beautiful lagoons on the station and Kooraki boasted a great many. The waters, the darkest green of a rainforest, some turquoise-sheened, floated cargoes of exquisite water lilies all year round. Each lagoon, pond, billabong and swamp on the station carried its lovely flotilla generally of a single colour—the sacred blue lotus, pink, cream, white or yellow, the stunning blooms rising above their thick green pads. They made a heart-stirring sight.
At the top of the acacia-lined bank she tethered the mare, then half walked, half skittered down the slope, crushing pretty little purple plants almost flush with the soil underfoot. With a final leap, she came down on the pale ochre sand that formed a broad beach around the deep lagoon. Here the sacred blue lotus decorated the lagoon’s reed-shadowed borders. Many a time she and Dev had made love in the cool green shadows to the back of her, sheltered by the overhanging feathery boughs of the acacias, heavy in golden blossom and scent. Their coming together right from the very first time had been as natural as life itself.
Dev crouching over her…kissing her…caressing her… Even thinking about it now rocked her body with sensations. Dev was a fantastic lover. Once he had told her his feeling of rapture was so intense he could die from it. She had felt the same way. Dev was her soul, boy and man. He had shaped all the days of her life. She knew she could never love anyone again who was not Dev.
Only what had he done with wicked old Tjungurra?
She knew he wasn’t going to deliver the old witch doctor to the police. Blood was thicker than water. Dev was a Langdon. His first loyalty would be to his family, even to the memory of his dreadful grandmother.
Mel sank on the sand and softly wept. The thought of Michael and the manner of his dying had haunted her for years. Never in a million light years would she have suspected the old kurdaitcha man of playing a part in Michael’s tragic “accident.” The fact that the old man had turned up had seriously rattled her faith in Dev. At some stage Tjungurra must have been considered. He had been treated with a mixture of reverence and fear. But both she and Dev had been children at the time. Now, years later? Had someone confided their suspicions to Dev? It could even have been his grandfather who’d had to deal with the fallout and a raging wife half off her head with jealousy. It was a huge comfort that her mother had no idea. Sarina had genuinely cared about Michael as being the man apart.
Her breath was coming ragged in her throat. The breeze dried her tears. It was like silk against her flushed skin. For long moments she stared at the wide glittering expanse of water, the surface as smooth as poured glass. There was no one around for miles. The men would be working at the Ten Mile. A dip would cool her off and soothe her frazzled nerves.
She stood up, stripping off her clothes until she was down to her bra and briefs. She had to get on with life. She had to go in search of her biological father. Silverton. It wasn’t one of the big sugar towns. She had a vague idea the district was a producer of tropical fruit, mango plantations. Sarina wasn’t the first love-struck teenager to fall in love with a much older man, married or not. She would track this man down. Maybe give him one hell of a fright, she looked so much like Sarina, the young girl he had abandoned.
The lagoon beckoned. Though the sun was hot, the water was surprisingly cold. Bending her supple body, she splashed her face, her arms and her breasts, before diving in. She swam well. As a girl, she had won many medals for her school in the inter-schools swimming contests. Gregory Langdon had paid for her excellent education at one of the country’s top girls’ schools.
Thank you, Gregory, you old tyrant.
She felt no gratitude. Only shame.
* * *
Dev found her lying on the sand, half asleep. Her breathing was shallow but relaxed. God, she was beautiful. He stood for a time watching her. But when he allowed his shadow to fall over her, her eyes flew open, hand up, shading them, as she gave a soft exclamation.
“How long have you been standing there?” she asked with a frown, starting to sit up.
“Just arrived,” he said laconically. “Enjoy your swim?”
“It helped.” Mel drew up her long slender legs, hugging her knees. God knew, Dev was intimate with her naked body, yet as his jewellike eyes smouldered and touched on different places she felt a hard knot of desire beginning to twist and twirl around inside her.
Only nothing romantic was about to happen. Not after the shattering events of that morning.
“So what did you do with your old witch doctor?” she challenged, looking straight at him.
“Standard thing. Killed him.” Dev lowered his lean length to the sand beside her.
“Your grandmother had Michael killed,” she said bleakly. “How do you feel about that?”
He turned to touch her face. “Heavy-hearted, Mel, if it were true.”
“Another one of my quantum leaps?” she asked bitterly.
“Your antennae could be way off. The old man frightened the life out of the stable lads. They were terrified.”
“I saw that,” she said shortly. “What was he jabbering about, anyway? I did catch one word—Sarina.”
“Apparently he thought you were her,” Dev told her with a sharp exhalation of breath. “He tells me he’s dying.”
“Good!” Mel exclaimed at once. “He must be a thousand years old anyway. How many times did he see Sarina? He never came anywhere near the house. Sure he didn’t come seeking redemption? Or did he plan to plunge his spear-thrower into the heart of that wicked unfaithful woman?”
“Mel, Tjungurra has come back to Kooraki to die. He would be hard-pressed to fight off a child, let alone sink his spear in anyone. His long walkabout took what remaining strength he had from his body.”
“So you’re saying you’re going to allow him to die on Kooraki?” she asked in angry disbelief.
“That’s what I’m saying, Mel.” His tone firmed. “This is Tjungurra’s ancestral land. His tribe was here tens of thousands of years before the white man arrived. He’ll do no one
any harm, be certain of that. His people will help ease him out of life. He faces judgement, too, Mel. I think he’s scared he won’t make his way up to the stars. All Aboriginals are stargazers.”
“We share that, don’t we?” She cast him another challenging look. “How many times did we lie staring up at the stars, you filling my head with stories about Orion, the mighty hunter with his jewelled belt, the marvel of the Milky Way, that great river of stars, home of all those who lead good lives? That leaves quite a few people we know out. You were the one to show me the pointers to the Cross, Beta Centari, Alpha Centari. You shared all the stories you’d learned from the Aboriginals about our constellation. Your mother used to wear a very beautiful jewelled brooch representing the Southern Cross.”
Dev nodded. “I remember it. Each jewel was different—a diamond, a sapphire, a ruby and an emerald. Dad gave it to her when they were courting.”
“They never had their own life, did they?” she lamented. “Your father should have moved you all away.”
“He was trapped, Mel. Can’t you understand that? He was the heir. He was convinced his first duty was to Grandfather, which was to say Kooraki.”
“And boy, didn’t he suffer!” Mel exclaimed dismally. “Your mother. Ava, too. You managed to keep above it all but even you had endless fights with your grandfather. I know better than to ask you what the last big fight was about.” No stopping the bitterness.
“Seriously, Mel, you wouldn’t want to know. It was rubbish, anyway.” Dev’s expression had grown taut, his mood edgy.
“So, I don’t get the chance to decide that for myself. Impossible to keep my mother out of it. I’m not a fool, Dev.” Mel stood up, reaching for her jeans. She stepped into them, zipping them up.
Dev held her cotton shirt in his hand. “What a beautiful body you have.”
“Shirt, please.” There was a great brittleness to her movements.
He passed it to her without another word. She didn’t bother tucking it in.
Dev raked a hand through his tousled blond waves. They blended in with the golden sunlight. “What more did you manage to get out of your mother?” he asked abruptly.
“More? What gives you that idea?”
“You’re keeping something from me. I know you, Mel.”
She pulled her thick mane out of its topknot, shaking it loose. “Imagine that! You can keep things back. I can’t.” She stared out over the glittering water, where iridescent winged creatures were whirring before taking flight again.
Dev didn’t respond as she expected, but when she turned her head to look at him, his hand shot out to encircle her arm. “Keep still,” he murmured.
She obeyed without question. The reason for his action was immediately apparent. A pair of brolgas, the Australian blue cranes, long-legged, long-necked, were coming in to land on the sandy beach of the opposite bank. They bounced lightly, elegantly.
Mel drew in her breath, seizing on this rare moment of peace. “How about that?” she breathed.
“Sit down, Mel,” he urged. “This is a privilege we can never take for granted.”
She sank onto the warm sand beside him. Maybe this was a good omen. One couldn’t survive without hope.
Within moments the taller brolga, close on five feet with the identifying scarlet patch across its face, bowed, grey wings with darker wing tips outstretched, waiting on its mate to bow gracefully in return. This was the start of the celebrated brolga ceremonial dance.
Mel bypassed the tension that was strung out between them. She reacted in the way she had done since childhood. She put out her hand, feeling Dev’s close warmly around hers. They sat in silence, watching the birds begin their famous courting ritual of wonderful vertical leaps, amazing side steps, graceful dips. It was quite extraordinary, the rituals of nature, the wildlife, the beauty and mystery of it all.
The dance gradually came to an end. They would have applauded, only they knew they would startle the cranes and the wealth of bird life that was all but invisible in the blossoming trees.
“Peace does exist,” Dev said very quietly. “Even if it’s sometimes hard to find. How beautiful is our world!”
She acknowledged it. “I love it as much as you do. If only we could start over.”
Dev shook his head. “Impossible. We have to take whatever life hands out. You know my view. There’s no point expending time and energy on regrets for the past. We live in the present. We look to the future. Only way to go.”
“I’ve never been as secure as you.”
He lay his hand with tenderness against her hot, flushed cheek. “All this torment has been bound up with your mother, but she’s off our hands.”
Mel felt the bitter taste of that on her tongue. “You won’t believe what she had to say.”
“Try me.” His voice took on a hard edge. “I knew it was something.”
Mel picked up a lovely coral-pink shell that was half embedded in the sand. “That dear man, Michael Norton, wasn’t my father.” Her beautiful face poignantly expressed her sorrow.
After the initial shock, Dev wasn’t all that surprised. “I’m sorry, Mel. I can feel your pain. But go on.”
Mel calmed herself. “It still hasn’t sunk in. My mother claims to have fallen pregnant to a married man, her teacher, when she was still at school. You can imagine how beautiful she was. He took advantage of her. Her family turned against her, her father especially. They disowned her. Or so she says. I can never completely believe my mother. Not when she’s undergone a metamorphosis right in front of my eyes. But life has damaged her. Her home town was Silverton. Heard of it?”
Dev shot her a frowning look. “Of course I’ve heard of it. It’s a prosperous little town in far North Queensland—processed dried fruit, mango plantations. That’s probably where she met Mike. He came to us from Maru Downs. Silverton would be one of the closest towns to the station.”
Mel took a hard swallow. “I’d always believed her people were in Sydney, with its huge Italian population.”
“Your mother obviously found it easier to lie,” Dev said. “There’s a sizeable Italian population in North Queensland. Our sugar industry owes a great debt to immigrant Italian families. They were the ones who worked the sugar farms, then saved up to buy them.”
Mel waited until she could speak properly, her mouth was so dry. “Revelations have been raining down on me like chunks of debris from out of space.”
Dev’s response was to nod slowly. “And her parents, your grandparents?”
Mel couldn’t answer for a moment. “Dead in a car crash,” she managed with stark finality. “Sarina doesn’t mourn them.” She found it too distressing to mention the accusation Sarina had brought against her father. She couldn’t bear to think about it herself. Sarina could well be delusional.
Dev’s face registered his scepticism. “Hasn’t Sarina taken an age telling you all this?” He spoke with harsh condemnation.
“I don’t think she would have told me at all, only I unnerved her saying the old witch doctor was after her. I’m convinced from her reaction she knew nothing of any conspiracy against Michael.”
“If there was one.” Dev cut her off. “We’ll never know, Mel. We weren’t the main players. We were kids. We have to strive to put it behind us.”
“Easier said than done,” Mel answered, finding recovery difficult. Why don’t you turn the wicked old devil over to the police?”
“On what charge?”
Her mind raced. “You don’t believe your grandmother could have been a part of it? She said many terrible things to me. You know that. I told you everything that ever really mattered. Easy for her to enlist Tjungurra’s help.”
“No, I won’t have it. She wasn’t that bad. And she had a right to be jealous. Anyway, they’re gone, Mel, my grandparents.” He picked up a small round stone, then sent it skittering across the surface of the water. “Sarina was the catalyst. Condemn her along with the rest.” Because of Sarina, he never did get the chance
to say goodbye to his grandfather, a giant in his life. Sarina was a woman who had seduction in her very nature. A man’s admiration was pure oxygen to her.
“So what are we left with?” Mel was demanding to know.
“Some answers never come, Mel. Bitterness is a sickness, a cancer. It eats its way through us. My grandfather wanted Sarina madly. Who knows if it was love or not? It was certainly lust. My grandmother lived with hatred. Mike Norton was caught in Sarina’s web, too much in love with her to anger her with questions. Did he know he wasn’t your father?”
Mel felt a wave of grief. “How would I know? My mother only feeds you slivers at a time. All I do know is he loved me.”
“Of course he did!” Dev said, conviction in his voice. “I was only a boy but I still remember how Mike adored his astonishingly pretty little princess. Maybe your mother told him, maybe she didn’t. Lies and the truth are as one with her. We’ve both seen her reinvent herself, literally overnight. It could all be fantasy.”
“Which is why I’m going to check it out,” Mel said with determination.
“Go to Silverton?”
Mel ran a finger over her aching forehead. “Yes.”
Dev didn’t hesitate. “I’ll take you, even if it is a wild goose chase. But if Sarina lived there, someone will know. Her face alone is a standout. She might well have been using a false name. It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Me, neither,” Mel confessed, remembering the odd things her mother had said. “I think the trauma of having me so young, so unsupported by family, could have turned her mind. The experience made her incapable of feeling compassion for others. She didn’t receive it. She didn’t give it. Who am I to judge her?”
“Before you get too forgiving, Mel, you might remember, she went to work on my grandfather. She would have been sending out messages, the great dark eyes, the subtle nuances in the voice. She used her beauty. She knew he was a married man. But she thrust that aside as of little consequence. Most people would side with my grandmother, even if she didn’t handle the situation at all well.”