Dreamscapes

by Tamara McKinley

  His smile was jaded as he rammed his hands in his pockets and kicked the toe of his boot against a clod of grass. ‘It’s what Catriona wants, Belinda. We’ll deal with the flak when it happens.’ He sighed. ‘I’m sorry I doubted you, but I needed reassurance that at least you were on my side.’

  ‘Of course I am, you idiot,’ she said fondly. ‘But it would have made things much easier if you’d only explained why you were with Catriona tonight.’ She eyed him quizzically. ‘Don’t you think you also ought to explain the lengths you had to go to, so you could take time out and come here in the first place? Shouldn’t you tell them about the strings you had to pull to get me to come with you?’ She smiled. ‘You know, Tom,’ she said softly. ‘Sometimes, you are your own worst enemy.’

  He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end in his frustration. ‘I just wanted to clear up my grandfather’s mystery,’ he said crossly. ‘I never meant for things to get so out of hand. Catriona’s a national treasure, a woman whose life and talent I’ve admired for years, and I’m determined not to let anything muck up this chance to bring an end to it all.’

  ‘Then tell them that,’ she said with a hint of impatience. ‘Be open and above-board with them, instead of mooning over Harriet and biting back every time Rosa winds you up. She’s defensive, and the best form of defence is attack, you should know that, Tom. Give her a break, and you might find she’s not so bad.’

  ‘I’m not mooning over Harriet,’ he denied hotly, the colour rising up his neck and into his face.

  Belinda grinned. ‘Oh, yes you are,’ she said sweetly. ‘But then there’s no accounting for taste.’

  He was startled by her tone. ‘You don’t like her, do you? But I thought you and she went back years, thought you were all very close?’ He was curious about the relationship between her and the other two, and deeply intrigued as to how Harriet was viewed by another woman.

  Belinda chewed her bottom lip, deep in thought. ‘I used to get on with her all right when we were kids, and for a while I even felt sorry for her. Her mother’s a grade A bitch.’

  Tom raised an eyebrow, but knew better than to interrupt Belinda’s flow of thought.

  ‘I suppose its silly really,’ she went on. ‘But Rosa was my friend, and when Harriet came along, I felt left out. When I decided to opt out of Uni and go to Police Academy, we began to drift apart.’ She stared out into the darkness. ‘We’ve stayed in touch, but it’s mostly been through Rosa.’

  ‘What do you think of her now?’

  She grinned. ‘She’s not as prickly as Rosa, that’s for sure, but she’s always been cool and a bit too distant for my liking. She’s also attractive, and very intelligent, which is probably why she’s ignoring your rather pathetic attempts at wooing her.’ He was about to deny the accusation, when she grinned and carried on. ‘Reckon it’s my country upbringing,’ she said. ‘But I’ve never been a fan of these slick city women who appear to have it al1, and believe me, Tom, that one has it all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Tom was intrigued.

  She looked at him, her expression solemn. ‘Her father was Brian Wilson, a multi-millionaire who made his fortune by supplying the oil fields with plant and machinery. He died when Harriet was young. Her mother was a prima ballerina with the Sydney Ballet Company, and an enthusiastic social climber.’

  Tom had known instinctively that Harriet was from a wealthy family, but he’d had no idea she was so well connected.

  ‘Harriet didn’t need to work in bars and clubs to keep body and soul together while she studied for her law degree. She walked into a vacancy at one of the most prestigious law firms in Sydney and has slowly been given more high-profile cases. Single, no children, owns a house in The Rocks without a mortgage, and is being pursued by one of the junior partners in her law firm, called Jeremy Prentiss. He’s also single and extremely rich.’

  The news that Harriet might be spoken for shook him. What chance did a copper have against a rich lawyer? He realised Belinda was watching him with amusement. ‘My word,’ he muttered. ‘You really don’t like her at all, do you?’

  She eyed him thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t have agreed with you yesterday, but now I’m not sure,’ she murmured. Then she shrugged. ‘Harriet’s OK, but the friendship we had when we were kids is long gone. We never really had much in common, and our different worlds have widened the gap.’

  ‘What about Rosa? Still friends with her?’

  She nodded. ‘We come from the same background and Rosa doesn’t put on airs and graces like Harriet. She’s been my mate since I was in nappies. I know her moods and what she’s thinking, and even though she can be a pain in the arse at times, our friendship is as solid today as it always was.’

  *

  Supper was on the table when Belinda entered the cookhouse. ‘Thanks for saving it for me,’ she said gratefully as she pulled up a chair. ‘I’m starving.’

  Harriet’s smile was stiff. ‘I didn’t cook for Tom, but there’s enough if he wants.’

  ‘He had snags and beans with Cookie while they were fishing,’ said Belinda as she helped herself to mashed potato.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Harriet asked, curious to know what had happened between the two of them. ‘Tom didn’t look too happy.’

  Belinda shrugged. ‘He has his problems, but nothing that can’t be sorted.’ She forced a smile. ‘He just needs you lot to cut him some slack,’ she said. She turned to Rosa who was concentrating on her steak. ‘Did you speak to Catriona?’

  Rosa finished her mouthful and took a sip of wine. ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘Mum went walkabout and invited Tom in for a drink.’

  Belinda accepted this excuse for an apology and tucked into her dinner. Once she’d satisfied her initial hunger, she set down her cutlery and took a long, appreciative drink of wine. She looked around the table and spoke into the silence. ‘Tom probably won’t thank me for telling you this, but I think you should know he had to pull a lot of strings to have me with him, because I’m not really on his team.’ She looked at the others, her gaze alighting momentarily on each of them to emphasise her point. ‘He admires Catriona, and is very aware of how we all feel about her.’

  ‘Why should he care?’ muttered Harriet. ‘He’s a copper doing his job. One way or another, he’s determined to get his own way, and using you to soften her up isn’t exactly fair play.’

  ‘That’s true,’ agreed Belinda. ‘But like it or not, Catriona has agreed to be interviewed.’ She paused. ‘Tom’s willing to stay here for as long as it takes,’ she explained. ‘There aren’t many cops who would do that. Catriona’s a lucky woman.’

  Harriet regarded Belinda for a moment before speaking. ‘I agree,’ she murmured. ‘Perhaps now, you’ll explain exactly why you’re both here?’

  ‘Can’t do that,’ she replied. ‘Catriona made me promise.’

  Harriet’s expression hardened. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

  ‘Not really,’ admitted Belinda.

  *

  Connor left the cookhouse and headed for his cottage, but instead of going in, he slumped down in the chair on the verandah and stared thoughtfully into the distance. His concern for Catriona was fuelled by their long history of close affection and gratitude, from Catriona’s unswerving belief in him and in his sister, and her generosity to them both. He rubbed the stubble on his chin, his fingers automatically straying to the crescent-shaped scar that was his father’s legacy. Catriona had been there for him when he’d needed her; now it was his turn to reciprocate.

  Connor dug in his pockets and pulled out his rolling tobacco. He didn’t smoke very much, but now and again the nicotine helped to relax him, and the very act of sitting in the dark and rolling a perfect smoke was usually enough to settle him. But it was different tonight, he realised. His thoughts were too muddled, his concern too deep, the memories too powerful to be blown away on a cloud of cigarette smoke. He felt the prick of angry tears as he saw himself as that
little boy again. A little boy whose childhood had been knocked out of him before he’d had the chance to know anything different. Connor sat there and felt the old rage stirring, just as it always did when he thought of Michael Cleary.

  He stared into the distance before leaving the chair, easing his stiff knee joint and pushing his way through the screen-door. He and Rosa had learned to trust again. Ma was the first person he’d been able to talk to about his father and feel no shame, the first person who’d offered help and practical advice and the loving affection he and Rosa had sorely missed once Poppy was dead. Belvedere had become a haven. ‘Yes,’ he sighed. ‘We have a lot to thank her for. I just hope we can do something in return.’

  *

  Connor finally gave up on sleep, it was too hot and his mind refused to rest. Tossing aside the sheet, he pulled on a pair of comfortable old shorts, grabbed his tobacco pouch and padded outside. He wandered barefoot into the clearing, revelling in the warmth of the earth beneath his feet, and the cooling breeze that caressed his chest. It was not a night to be trapped indoors. For the magic of their journey up to the stars still lingered around him despite the memories of his childhood.

  He rubbed his hand over his chest and around the back of his neck. The heat was easier now, the moon waxing brightly up above, the peace of the land surrounding him and re-affirming the love he had for this place. He leaned against the fence of the corral and watched the horses dozing in the moonlight.

  ‘You can’t sleep either?’ said the soft voice at his side.

  He started from his drifting thoughts, surprised, but pleasantly so by her company. He grinned, suddenly shy. ‘I often come out here in the night,’ he murmured. ‘Gives me time to think and put things into perspective.’

  Belinda’s gaze raked his naked chest, strong legs and bare feet. ‘They say contemplation’s good for the soul,’ she replied. ‘And I have to admit, you certainly are a sight for sore eyes.’ She grinned as the heat rose in his face. ‘But I reckon you already know that.’

  He grinned at her, his eyes teasing. ‘I see you haven’t changed, Belinda.’

  ‘Can’t fool you, can I?’ she replied, the laughter sparking in her eyes.

  ‘So why can’t you sleep tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘Restless,’ she muttered. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been out in the Never-Never, and I want to keep hold of that magic for as long as I can.’

  ‘Don’t you miss Derwent Hills?’ he asked as he leaned against the corral and began to roll a smoke. ‘I couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here.’

  ‘Neither could I for a long time,’ she replied. ‘But there didn’t seem much point in hanging about. I realised there was a big, wide world out there to be explored, so I joined the force.’ She grinned back up at him. ‘The rest, as they say, is history.’

  Connor watched the different expressions flit across her face and in her eyes. She was lovely to look at, and easy to get along with, and he still couldn’t get over the shock of seeing her after so long. He also discovered he no longer felt awkward in her company, even though he was half-naked. ‘But you do miss it out here, don’t you?’ he persisted.

  ‘Yes, dammit,’ she sighed. ‘And it’s at times like this I miss it the most.’ She turned and leaned back on the corral fence, her hands in her pockets, her gaze on his face. ‘The journey tonight brought it all back,’ she said softly. ‘Do you remember when we were kids? Billy was supposed to be looking after us while Catriona was away, and he used to hypnotise us and leave us up there for hours, safe in the knowledge we’d come to no harm.’ She giggled. ‘I suspect he just wanted to keep us occupied while he went walkabout.’ She accepted a drag of his cigarette and slowly let the smoke drift into the breeze.

  ‘Were you never afraid?’ he asked. ‘I remember my first experience of flying. I was terrified of falling and crashing to earth. Then, when I realised I couldn’t move at all, or come down if I wanted, I was terrified of being left up there for ever.’

  She nodded. ‘Me too. But you soon learn it doesn’t last. The magic of the whole experience wipes away all logical reasoning eventually.’

  They smoked the rest of the cigarette in silence, each of them occupied with their own thoughts. Each aware of the proximity of the other.

  *

  ‘She’s out there chatting up my brother,’ grumbled Rosa as she dropped the curtain back over the window and climbed into bed.

  ‘Leave them alone,’ muttered Harriet as she tried to find a comfortable spot on the pillow. ‘She’s been after Connor for years, and this is probably her last chance of snaring him.’ She pulled the sheet to her chin. ‘Besides,’ she added. ‘She probably can’t sleep, and I don’t blame her. Your snoring’s enough to keep the whole house awake.’

  ‘I don’t snore,’ retorted Rosa.

  Harriet gave up and emerged from beneath the bedclothes. ‘You do,’ she replied. ‘And very loudly.’

  ‘Kyle always complained about it,’ Rosa admitted. ‘But I just thought he was exaggerating so he could start a fight.’

  Harriet raised an eyebrow. Rosa rarely mentioned her ex. ‘What made you think of Kyle?’ she asked.

  Rosa sat up and hugged her knees. ‘Don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘Maybe it’s because I suddenly feel very old and very single.’ She propped her chin on her knees and stared into the gloom. ‘I’m nearly thirty, Hat, and there’s not even the glimmer of Mr Right on the horizon.’

  Harriet frowned. Rosa had never expressed the need for Mr Right before, and she wondered what had triggered this line of thought. ‘You always said you enjoyed your freedom.’

  ‘I do, most of the time,’ she murmured. ‘But coming home has made me realise how empty my life is.’ She ran her fingers through her spiky hair, bringing further chaos to the disorder. ‘I have work, which I thrive on, and a good social life, but there’s no one special. No one who would really care if I dropped out of sight and disappeared.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Rosa. That’s deep, even for this time of night.’ Harriet climbed out of her bed and sat crossed-legged on Rosa’s. ‘I’d care,’ she said softly. ‘So would Connor and Catriona and the dozens of men you’ve been stringing along for years.’ She reached out and touched the tightly clasped fingers. ‘You’re just being melancholy. You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.’

  Rosa grimaced and shrugged. She reached for her cigarettes and screwed up her eyes as the bright flame lit the tobacco. Exhaling a stream of smoke on a sigh, she grinned. ‘I expect you’re right, as always,’ she said. ‘Kyle was a mistake – a marriage made in lust rather than love – and I don’t intend to go down that road again. I’m better off on my own.’ She glanced through the window as Harriet opened it to let out the cigarette smoke. ‘I had high hopes of you and Connor getting it together, but it looks like Belinda’s going to get her wicked way at last.’ She grinned. ‘But you were never interested, were you?’

  Harriet hugged her knees and grinned. ‘Not at all,’ she said brightly. ‘But that’s not to say I don’t like him, Rosa. He’s just not my type.’

  ‘Mmm,’ sighed Rosa. ‘I agree you have little in common, and the strong, silent, Alpha Male can be an awful pain in the arse when you want to get some kind of reaction out of him.’ She grinned, the wicked impishness sparkling in her eyes. ‘Perhaps you should re-consider the attractions of Jeremy Prentiss. I’ve only seen him in passing, but he’s rich, handsome and obviously smitten, and your mother would think she’d died and gone to heaven if you married him.’

  ‘Leave my mother out of this,’ muttered Harriet darkly. ‘And Jeremy too, for that matter. I admit I probably make him sound worse than he is, but that’s purely my defence mechanism against Mum’s matchmaking.’ She chewed her lip, then sighed. ‘He’s actually a really nice man, but there’s just no chemistry.’

  ‘At least you’ve got a choice,’ sniffed Rosa as she stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Tom Bradley’s waiting in the wings.’ She fell silent as Harri
et glared at her. ‘Mind you,’ she murmured. ‘I wouldn’t mind getting to know him a bit better now I understand where he’s coming from. He seems nice, and if Mum likes him, then that’s good enough for me.’

  Harriet looked at her in amazement. ‘Leave the poor man alone,’ she spluttered with laughter. ‘You’ve done nothing to endear yourself to him since he arrived. Give the bloke a break, Rosa.’

  Rosa lifted a delicate eyebrow. ‘Methinks she doth protest too much,’ she muttered. ‘And judging by the way he is around you, I reckon it would be a shame to miss out on all that sexual tension.’ She eyed Harriet with a quizzical grin. ‘But if you really aren’t interested – and why should you be, he’s only a copper – then you should stand aside and let a real woman show you how it’s done.’

  Harriet belted her with a pillow. ‘Go to bloody sleep and stop talking utter nonsense,’ she said firmly. Rosa’s laughter rang out as Harriet climbed into her own bed and pulled the sheet over her head. Really, she thought, Rosa was impossible. As if she, Harriet Wilson, could possibly find someone as mundane and ordinary as Tom Bradley sexually attractive. The idea was ludicrous.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Catriona eyed the telephone and pulled out the jack again. No doubt the reporters would try ringing, and she had no wish to be bothered by them. Her favourite radio programme would have to be sidelined this morning, she decided, for the news was probably on there as well. For the first time in years she was glad the newspapers were only delivered once a month.

  She was already dressed despite the early hour, and although it had been a disturbed night, she felt strangely energetic as she fed Archie and tucked into a bowl of cereal. The reason for this new release of energy was the knowledge that in just a few hours she would be free of the burden she’d carried all those years, and as the long night had drawn on, she’d come to realise it was what she had been subconsciously waiting for since she was thirteen. It was a chance to finally tell someone what had happened to her – and know she would be believed.