Moonlight Plains

by Barbara Hannay

  ‘Welcome to Australia,’ Laura murmured, and she realised she was smiling.

  Luke had been holding his breath for days. At least that was what it had felt like and yet, incredibly, everything seemed to be coming together now. The house was finished and looking pretty damn good, if he did say so himself. The beds were made up and ready for the house guests. The dance floor and the extra tables, the chairs, glasses and crockery had arrived. Zoe was ensconced in the kitchen with Sally and Sally’s friend Megan, who were happy to be kitchen hands.

  Of course, whenever Luke thought about Sally, he felt a hitch in his breathing. By far the hardest moment of this entire exercise had been her arrival this morning. It had nearly killed him to stick to the plan to keep their relationship under the radar.

  Sally had arrived in a truck with Megan and a guy called Toby, and she’d introduced them as her best friends. Actually, Luke had learned later that they’d been best man and chief bridesmaid at Sally and Josh’s wedding, and that in itself had been sobering.

  Sal had looked gorgeous, of course, even though she was only wearing jeans and a singlet top. It was torture to greet her politely as she jumped down from the truck, shaking her hand with no more warmth or enthusiasm than he greeted her friends. All he’d wanted to do was to race her off to a secluded corner and haul her in, with her sweet curves hard against him while they lost themselves in a hot, wild kiss.

  Unsurprisingly, he’d found himself questioning why he’d deemed it so damned important to throw his family off their scent. His mob had seen him with girls before and Sally’s appearance at his side wouldn’t have signalled anything serious. So why had he been so anxious to protect her?

  The only rational explanation arrived some time later when he saw Sally in the kitchen squeezing lemons for a dessert that Zoe was making. Sally was concentrating hard, frowning as she rotated a lemon this way and that, and for a moment he could see her as a little girl, trying hard to please her teacher or her mother, and his heart swelled so that it seemed to fill his chest. For a moment there he couldn’t breathe.

  It was then he knew – the way he felt about Sally was totally different from how he’d felt about any other girl he’d dated. And it wasn’t just because she was a widow.

  She’d got under his skin, into his heart. Damn it, it was possible – drum roll – he’d fallen in love.

  Right at this moment, with everyone getting ready to party, it was both a happy and a scary discovery.

  It didn’t help that Sally was playing her part really well. There was no special smile for him. No lingering eye contact. How he missed that sparkle in her lovely dark eyes, the private look just for him.

  For the duration of the party, he was condemned to constant awareness of Sally’s whereabouts without making any close contact. He was like an amputee who could still feel his missing limb.

  And the only person he could blame was himself.

  The track widened, opening onto grassland. Ahead of Laura, beyond Bella and Gabe’s truck, she saw a paddock where several vehicles were parked and tents were being erected. Beyond that, on a stretch of mowed lawn, stood a scattering of trestle tables and chairs, and what looked like a temporary dance floor. And then, providing a gracious backdrop to the whole inviting scene, the timber homestead gleamed with fresh white paint in the bright outback sun.

  So this is it, Dad. I’m here. What now?

  What came next for Laura was a warm welcome from a host of friendly strangers. First, Luke, tall and big-shouldered, with laughing green eyes and sun-bleached tips to his light-brown hair, came forward, extending a huge hand.

  ‘Great to meet you at last. We’re honoured that you’ve come such a long way.’ He shook her hand firmly without crushing it. ‘You must be dying for a cuppa. Come inside and stow your things. Here, let me carry your bags.’

  ‘I feel very privileged,’ she said as Luke showed her to a pretty room with a double bed and a long view through French doors across sweeping paddocks. ‘Most of your guests seem to be camping outside.’

  Luke merely grinned. ‘We wouldn’t do that to you. The others are used to camping out and they love it.’

  Laura met Luke’s uncles, aunts, cousins and sisters, and assorted children, all of them pleasant and friendly. Apparently Kitty hadn’t arrived yet, she was being driven from Townsville by her daughter, Virginia. Laura found herself waiting on tenterhooks.

  Luke was called away to the phone – something to do with a band – and a young woman with glossy dark curls called Zoe asked Laura if she’d prefer tea or coffee. In what seemed like no time Zoe was back on the verandah with a tray laden with a coffee pot, sugar and cream and a small plate piled with squares of perfect-looking shortbread.

  ‘Oh, this is wonderful,’ Laura exclaimed, and she meant it sincerely.

  On the shady verandah she was able to unwind a little, chatting with Luke’s aunts, who explained that they both lived on cattle properties further to the west. She answered their polite enquiries about her journey from Boston and what she hoped to see in Australia, and while they talked, a game started in the paddock – Laura was told it was cricket.

  She couldn’t make head or tail of the rules, but children and adults and a couple of dogs all played together and they seemed to be having a swell time, with plenty of laughter and lots of shouting when the batter got out, or yells of frustration when the dogs refused to surrender the ball.

  Another pickup truck arrived in a swirl of dust, with rolled-up bedding piled in the back. The pickup was called a ute, Laura was told, and the sleeping gear was called a swag. After the party, the young people would probably sleep out in the open under the stars. Laura wondered what that was like. While it sounded adventurous and fun in theory, she wasn’t sure she’d like the reality.

  ‘Don’t they worry about snakes?’ She had to ask.

  But the others simply laughed and shrugged.

  ‘On a cold clear night, there’s nothing better,’ one of the women, who had to be past fifty, assured her.

  Then there was a shout from Luke. ‘Gran’s almost here!’

  To Laura’s surprise, everyone reacted. The cricketers, the tent erectors, the people working in the kitchen or setting out chairs all seemed to stop what they were doing and congregate at the front of the house to welcome the vehicle that could now be heard coming down the track.

  Laura felt unpleasant flutters in her stomach and chest and she realised she was nervous. This was the famous – or infamous – Kitty, the woman her father had slept with all those years ago, and consequently, could never forget.

  She had been going to sit back and watch this family greet their matriarch, but she found herself standing and moving to the verandah railing, as curious as anyone else.

  The sudden tension in Luke was unexpected. He’d already received enough compliments about the homestead’s restoration to give him a swollen head, so he should have been relaxed and pleased. But it was his grandmother’s opinion that mattered most.

  She’d lived here the longest, first during the war and then, later, with his grandfather Andy, when they’d started a new life here as cattle graziers. And she was still the nominal owner, although the family’s trust was a complicated setup that Luke didn’t fully understand.

  As his mother’s SUV appeared a cheer went up and people started waving. Shading his eyes, Luke could just make out the tiny figure of his grandmother in the front passenger seat. As he walked forward to meet the car, he knew his smile was a little shaky.

  His mother climbed out quickly, still as slim and neat and energetic as ever, with hair the colour of dusty wheat. She finally seemed to be settling into her new widowed lifestyle of golf and gardening in Townsville.

  ‘Wow!’ she called. ‘What a reception.’ She kissed Luke and they hugged. ‘How are you, darling?’

  ‘I’m fine. How are you? How’s Gran?’

  ‘Oh, Gran’s in fine fettle. Darling, the house looks amazing. Can you help Gran out of the car? S
he’ll need to take it slowly. Her poor old joints will be stiff after the drive.’

  Getting his grandmother from the car was indeed a slow and difficult process. Luke, used to seeing her in the nursing home, was shocked by how tiny and frail she seemed out here in the fresh air and sunshine. He was scared his big hands would bruise her.

  ‘I was going to bring a wheelchair,’ his mother said. ‘But Mum wouldn’t hear of it.’

  His gran shook her head fiercely. ‘I don’t need a wheelchair.’

  ‘We’ve plenty of chairs and strong arms,’ Luke assured her as he helped her to shuffle slowly forward.

  When she stopped and gasped after only a few steps, he thought she was out of breath, but then her bony fingers gripped him with surprising intensity. ‘Oh, Luke, it’s beautiful.’

  She was looking at the house, once again strong and sturdy and sporting a new coat of bright-white paint. ‘It looks better than ever. You’ve done a wonderful job.’ Her eyes were shining with the glint of tears.

  ‘Wait till you see inside,’ someone called.

  Luke could feel the knots of tension within him loosen a notch or two.

  The greetings took a while. Kitty was shown to a chair and made comfortable with cushions, then a cup of tea was placed on a small table at her side. Once she was settled, various family members paid homage – or at least that was how it seemed to Laura watching from the verandah, as grown men, presumably Kitty’s sons, kissed her tenderly on the cheek and then crouched in front of her to converse with her at eye level.

  She looked sweet, Laura thought. Old and frail and sweet. Her fine white hair had been combed into an elegant chignon and she was wearing a simple dress in a becoming soft-rose shade. Why was I so worried about this woman? How could she have been a threat to my family?

  ‘I’m waiting for Kitty to see the fishpond,’ said a voice nearby, and Laura turned to see a startlingly pretty young woman with lovely auburn hair. She was addressing her comment to Zoe.

  ‘You should be down there when she does see it.’ Zoe gave the girl’s elbow a squeeze. ‘Come on, we can say hello now. The main family’s finished. Time for us extras. You too, Laura,’ Zoe added, sending Laura a smile.

  ‘Oh, do you think –’

  ‘Sure. Kitty will be dying to meet you. Come on.’

  The pretty redhead was called Sally, Laura soon learned, and it seemed Kitty knew her quite well, greeting her like an old friend.

  Kitty’s daughter, Virginia, introduced Zoe, with just a hint of awkwardness, as ‘my stepdaughter’. There was some shy laughter from Zoe and additional explanation from Virginia, which Laura didn’t quite catch.

  ‘And you met Zoe’s dear little boy, Callum, earlier,’ Virginia was saying. ‘With his father, Mac.’

  After delighted smiles and hugs for Zoe it was Laura’s turn to be introduced to Kitty. An uncomfortable weight in her chest made her feel queasy.

  Luke, who’d been hovering in the background, stepped forward. ‘Gran, this is Laura Langley Fox, the American pilot’s daughter, all the way from Boston.’

  ‘Oh!’ There was an awkward moment while Kitty stared at Laura with an expression that was both haunted and dignified, but not exactly friendly.

  ‘I’m so very pleased to meet you, Mrs Mathieson.’ Laura hadn’t been brought up on Beacon Hill without knowing how to be polite and courteous, and now she laid it on thick.

  ‘You’ve come all this way,’ Kitty said. ‘I hope it’s worth it.’

  ‘You knew Laura’s father, didn’t you?’ cut in Luke.

  Kitty gave a dignified nod. ‘Yes, I met your father. There were so many Americans out here during the war. Oh, and thank you for sending his letter. I’m pleased to know your father had a successful and happy life after the war.’

  It was like being dropped from a great height, Laura realised later. She’d been so tense about meeting Kitty, so on edge, fearing some kind of emotional outburst. But Kitty was either a wonderful actor, or she was no more emotional about Ed Langley than she was about the weather. She might just as easily have said, ‘Oh, yes. It was a very wet year in 1942.’

  Had only her father cared? Had the impact of their relationship been all one-sided? Oh, Dad, thank heavens you never guessed.

  So far, so good, Luke thought as people drifted away to leave his grandmother to enjoy her cup of tea and to catch her breath after so much talking.

  Soon he would help her go inside for a rest before the party got properly underway. While she rested in the best bedroom with the beautifully restored bay windows, the afternoon would grow cooler, the shadows would lengthen. He’d turn on the lights that Sally and Bella had strung between the trees outside and most of the guests would change into their party clobber.

  Everything was more or less ready. The drinks were on ice, amazing smells were coming from the kitchen, Mac and Gabe had the barbecue plans all in hand, the band was on its way. Their American guest seemed to be fitting in.

  ‘All good,’ he said softly to himself just as another car emerged from the trees.

  ‘Here’s Jim,’ someone called.

  Great. The last of the family had arrived. Now they were only waiting for the extra friends who’d been invited and others like the historical committee.

  Luke felt a tug at his elbow.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Laura asked, pointing a well-manicured finger with dark-maroon nail polish.

  ‘Oh, that’s my uncle, Jim Mathieson.’

  She gripped his elbow again, more tightly this time. ‘Kitty’s son?’

  ‘Yes, her eldest.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  Luke frowned at Laura. She was probably around his mother’s age, not quite as slim but better preserved, with a fine, almost wrinkle-free complexion and dramatic, thick silver hair, stylishly cut and held back from her face by a black velvet band.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, seeing the look on her face as she stared slack-jawed at Jim, who was walking towards them with his easy, long-legged gait. Luke had a particular fondness for his eldest uncle, who was seventy but didn’t look it, and still worked part-time, because he liked to keep his hand in.

  Now, however, a chill snaked down Luke’s spine. ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded again of Laura.

  ‘He –’ She began and then stopped to swallow, as if something had stuck in her throat. ‘He looks so familiar, almost exactly like –’ She stopped again and clearly she didn’t want to finish her sentence.

  Luke was about to ask what Laura’s problem was when she clamped a hand over her mouth and her eyes filled with tears.

  No. Hell, no. Was she about to ruin everything?

  31

  Townsville, 1942

  ‘There’s no doubt about it,’ the stern-faced doctor told Kitty. ‘You’re most definitely pregnant.’

  She was still lying on her back, feeling exposed and embarrassed after his unpleasant probing, and now, in the most matter-of-fact tone possible, he’d confirmed her worst fears. The truth she’d suspected, had known deep down for weeks, was now an Inescapable Fact.

  She was having Ed Langley’s baby.

  Only the tiniest corner of Kitty’s heart was thrilled. Just once or twice in the past scary weeks, she’d allowed herself to think that this would be the perfect outcome from their island weekend. In those brief moments, she could almost picture a miniature version of Ed and she would feel a little rush of warm, maternal joy. But almost immediately the fantasy would die and she would come to her senses.

  Pregnancy was a disaster. It could bring nothing but shame for her. And for Ed, it would be a huge burden and an extra worry when he was fighting this terrible war, putting his life on the line day after day.

  Surely nobody would willingly bring a little baby into the world now, in the middle of all this.

  In North Queensland, the past month of May had been the worst yet. The skies over Townsville had thundered with the roar of aircraft, while offshore a great naval battle had been waged in the
Coral Sea.

  The Prime Minister, Mr Curtin, had warned the country to prepare for the worst and had talked of dire consequences if the Allies were not successful. In Townsville the gossip was rife. Everyone knew they shouldn’t listen to rumours, but they were all hearing the same horrific stories from neighbours, from workmates, from men who’d been talking at the pub. The boys in the local battalion had been ordered to sharpen their bayonets and to stand guard facing the sea, ready to fight to the death.

  In the midst of all this, Kitty had received no word from Ed. As soon as they’d returned from the island, he’d rushed straight off on another mission and she’d heard nothing since. She had absolutely no idea where he was, or if he was safe.

  As the doctor turned away to his desk and told her to get dressed, all she wanted to do was cry. She’d been tense about this for six weeks now and she was ready to burst from the stress of it. But she had to cling to her dignity for a little longer, till she was out of the surgery and past the disapproving eye of the snooty receptionist.

  Back at Mitchell Street, Elsie took one look at her and demanded to know what had happened. ‘Is it bad news about Ed?’

  ‘No!’ Kitty wailed and then burst into tears, finally.

  ‘Oh, love, come here,’ Elsie soothed, slipping a motherly arm around her. ‘Come to the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Somehow, Kitty made her stumbling, sobbing way down the hall and almost fell into a chair at the kitchen table, where she slumped forward with her head on her arms and cried her heart out.

  The kettle had come to the boil and Elsie was filling the teapot by the time her sobs started to ease.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whimpered, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and swiping her eyes and blowing her nose.

  Elsie’s smile was rather frayed around the edges as she set cups and saucers on the table.

  But at least Kitty felt a bit braver now that the crying was out of the way. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said quickly.