The Secret Years

by Barbara Hannay

  Ro almost hugged herself with delight. Just as she’d hoped from the moment she met him, Nick Bloody Myatt seemed to be fast becoming Nick Mr-Perfect Myatt.

  When they reached the bottom of the homestead steps, they stood for a moment, looking back behind them at the flat stretch of paddocks and the trees that lined the creek. Ro decided there was something especially right about the picture of this tall dark-haired couple, both dressed in casual blue jeans and standing together. They reminded her of another couple who had stood right there on that same spot, looking just as happy as she’d toddled towards them on chubby little legs.

  Ro felt a deep sense of satisfaction. It was so good to stop worrying about Lucy, or about her own relationship with her father, or about her and Keith. Her only problems this afternoon were practical ones. There were two more staying the night in the homestead and she would have to speak to Doug and June about extra bedding, but she wasn’t sure what she could do about dinner. There was only a Lean Cuisine left in the esky and it couldn’t possibly stretch to feed four. A strapping young man like Nick was sure to have a good appetite.

  She was still pondering this hostessing dilemma as Lucy and Nick crossed the grass to the red hire car. She saw Nick open the back door and the two of them began to unpack the things stowed in there – rolled-up swags, a huge esky, carrier bags with bottles of wine.

  ‘Oh my,’ Ro said aloud. It seemed that Nick Bloody Myatt was not only impossibly handsome, he was also resourceful.

  Grinning happily, Lucy turned back to her and waved. ‘We’ve enough here for a party,’ she called.

  34

  Harry was tired, so tired these days that the weariness seemed to have settled permanently into his bones. While the others were busy, he was pleased to be left reclining in a squatter’s chair on the verandah, admiring his favourite view, of Kalkadoon’s paddocks and the trees along the creek.

  From here, he could hear Ro bustling about in the kitchen and washing their breakfast things. They’d had quite a feast, both this morning and last night, dining on the delicious food Nick had miraculously produced. Now, Lucy was taking Nick on a quick tour of the property, or as much of the property as she’d discovered in the past couple of days.

  Harry thought about the two young people discovering Kalkadoon together and he liked the idea very much. He’d been feeling very pleased about that pair ever since yesterday afternoon, when Lucy had tiptoed into his room while he was resting.

  ‘Hi, Harry,’ she’d whispered and he’d seen immediately that her eyes were shining with happiness.

  ‘Hello, love.’

  ‘Are you okay? You look a bit pale.’ Gently, she pressed her hand to his cheek. ‘Are you sure it was a good idea to talk Nick into bringing you all the way out here?’

  ‘I’m fine, Lucy, don’t worry and don’t blame Nick. This is exactly what I wanted. Where I wanted to be.’

  ‘It’s wonderful that you were able to come.’

  And then, as she’d perched on the end of his bed, he’d asked, carefully, ‘So you and your Englishman have had a good talk?’

  ‘Yes, we have.’ There was an immediate softening in her expression.

  ‘He seems a likeable bloke.’

  ‘You think so? Do you like Nick?’

  Harry chuckled. ‘I’ve always thought first impressions were important and I liked him straight off. I wouldn’t have brought him out here if I didn’t think he was up to scratch.’

  ‘That’s what I told myself. I’m so pleased you approve of him, Harry.’

  She looked so very happy, as if her happiness was bubbling up and spilling over like a fountain.

  I got it right, Harry thought with relief. The other bloke his granddaughter had almost married had never made her look like that.

  ‘Thanks for bringing Nick out here,’ Lucy said next. ‘You know he’s mad about this place, already. He loves it.’

  ‘’Course he does. Why wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Actually, he’s interested in helping me to run Kalkadoon.’

  ‘Is he now?’ Harry wasn’t at all surprised. During their day’s journey from Townsville, Nick Myatt had asked all manner of pertinent and intelligent questions about the cattle business. ‘And how do you feel about that?’

  ‘Pretty damn happy,’ Lucy admitted, blushing. ‘Maybe over the moon.’

  ‘Then I’m maybe over the moon, too.’

  They had hugged then and Lucy had told him that they were planning a bit of a party – Nick had brought beautiful steaks and salad, as well as cheese and wine and Turkish delight for dessert.

  ‘Do you think you’re up for a small celebration?’

  Harry chuckled. ‘Try and stop me.’

  And yes, it had been a feast to remember. The neglected homestead had limitations as a setting for a party, but Ro and Lucy had done their best to make the kitchen festive.

  Lucy picked stems of bright-red bottlebrush, which she arranged in a wide-mouthed jar. And in the back of the pantry she found the candles that were used for blackouts. These candles, set in saucers and lit, transformed the old dresser, making the drab piece of furniture in need of a coat of paint look exceptionally pretty and romantic.

  There were no wine glasses to be found, but Lucy washed out tumblers that had once been Vegemite jars and polished them with a tea towel until they shone.

  Ro found a spare green-and-white striped sheet, which she spread as a tablecloth over the scarred and scratched table and then set about cutting and slicing ingredients for a salad, while Nick tackled the ancient stove and somehow produced very professionally seared steaks.

  Harry, meanwhile, sat in an old rocking chair, in a corner of the roomy kitchen, out of the way, enjoying watching the proceedings with great satisfaction. It was such a pleasure to see Ro looking flushed and happy, setting the table or handing around plates of cheese and crackers, and to see the young couple, so clearly in love. Harry sensed a wonderful lightheartedness in the room, a newborn happiness that travelled like a current between all four of them – himself, his daughter, his granddaughter and her Englishman.

  Nick uncorked and poured the wine, a good full-bodied red.

  ‘Just a little for Harry,’ Ro warned. And then, raising her glass, ‘What should our toast be to?’

  There was a momentary awkward pause as she sent a rather pointed glance Lucy’s way.

  ‘To Kalkadoon?’ asked Nick diplomatically, and Harry decided he liked the man more than ever.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Lucy, smiling and lifting her glass to salute them all. ‘To Kalkadoon and to all who’ve ever sailed in her, or lived on her soil.’

  This was met by laughter and a clinking of glasses and there was a general mood of jollity as they sat down to eat.

  And now, this morning. Harry didn’t blame last night’s cele­bration for his weariness, although he had enjoyed the evening immensely. He was simply old – far too old . . .

  This morning, Doug had called in and they’d had a good chinwag over a cuppa, discussing the hopes they shared for Kalkadoon’s future. Doug hadn’t been able to stay long, though, as he was expecting a phone call from a fuel supplier in Mt Isa. And now, as a flock of white cockatoos swept across the pristine outback sky and a magpie sang in the distance, Harry rested his head on the padded back of the squatter’s chair and closed his eyes. It was warm in the sun and he drifted off pleasantly, picturing Lucy and her Englishman living and working here at Kalkadoon.

  He remembered how he’d crossed hemispheres, just as Nick Myatt had done, to seek out the woman he loved. He thought about his dear Georgina and how very happy they’d been here together. And now another young couple, the right young couple, were starting over again.

  Full circle.

  Contented, he dozed, the drowsiness claiming him and soothing him, like the rhythm of a train. It wasn’t long before he could actually hear the steady rattle of a carriage and the hum of wheels. And then, he felt the warm weight of a head resting on his shoulder, a neat no
se burrowed against his neck.

  A movement woke him. He opened his eyes and there, sitting on the homestead verandah right beside him, was the loveliest girl. She had honey-brown, wavy hair and hazel eyes and the softest white skin imaginable. She was dressed in a British army uniform.

  She was George. His darling George.

  At last.

  He’d been waiting so long.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ she said and her cheeks went very pink, as if she was embarrassed that she’d been caught with her head on his shoulder, but her eyes were shining, as if she was also rather pleased.

  Harry smiled at her. ‘G’day.’

  ACKNOWLEGDEMENTS

  As always, there were many people who helped me to produce this book. I’m particularly grateful to the authors of the research books I used. It was more than a decade ago that I first read about the last London season in 1939 and, ever since, the idea of the debs whose lives were forever changed by World War Two has nagged to be in one of my stories. More recently, I was inspired by history books about the war in the Pacific, especially the fate of Lark Force in New Britain. I’ve tried to keep the history accurate, but in the interests of telling my particular story, some important details may not have been included.

  I’d like to also extend a big thanks to those who helped with keeping the contemporary thread of this story true to life. Michelle Bird gave traditional owner cultural advice, John Andersen helped with cattle country background, and a patient Aussie soldier answered my questions about returning from deployment in Afghanistan. Thanks to all of you and thanks, too, to Louis Simon for additional proofreading help.

  I am particularly grateful to the wonderful team at Penguin Australia, especially to Ali Watts for her invaluable and sensitive advice. Thanks also for the care and attention paid by Clementine Edwards, Fay Helfenbaum and Sonja Heijn, and to Louise Ryan for her enthusiasm and for making sure I took George into the palace.

  Once again, the person who has earned my biggest vote of thanks is my amazing husband, Elliot, my brainstorming and research partner, my first reader and my unfailing cheer squad.

  ALSO BY BARBARA HANNAY

  A breathtaking novel about finding love against all the odds that will keep you captivated from beginning to end.

  In 1942, as the Japanese sweep towards northern Australia and allied troops swarm into Townsville, Kitty Martin is sent inland to the safety of Moonlight Plains. But when two American airmen crash on the isolated property, she is forced to grow up fast, coming face to face with tragedy, with love . . . and with heartbreak.

  Years on, and Sally Piper, a young journalist, is sent to Moonlight Plains to cover the story of a cattleman turned builder who is restoring his grandmother’s forgotten homestead. Sparks fly between them, but Sally is struggling to let go of the past, and Luke has his eyes fixed firmly on the future.

  What they uncover together is a shocking secret that has been kept safe for more than seventy years. Now the entire family’s happiness is at stake – or does the truth about the past hold a valuable lesson for the future?

  ‘Hannay’s touch is deft, her pacing perfect and it all adds up to a gem of a story.’

  Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

  ‘A fantastic story with beautiful characters and a lovely backdrop of rural Australia ’

  1 Girl . . . 2 Many Books

  Coming home can break your heart . . . or change your life.

  For Bella Fairburn, a girl from the bush, her new life in Europe is a dream come true. But news of her beloved father’s heart attack brings Bella rushing back to Australia along with her aunt Liz, an acclaimed musician who’s been living in London for the past thirty years.

  Coming home is fraught with emotional danger for both Bella and Liz. While Bella is confident she can deal with drought, bushfires and bogged cattle, she dreads facing her neighbour. Gabe Mitchell is the man she once hoped to marry, but he’s also the man who broke her heart.

  And for Liz, Mullinjim holds a painful secret that must never be revealed . . .

  In the rugged beauty of the outback, new futures beckon, but Bella and Liz must first confront the heartaches of the past.

  ‘An engaging story of joy, tragedy, romance and heartache set within the dusty landscape of the Australian outback.’

  Book’d Out

  ‘In beautiful, fluid prose, Hannay once again puts together all the ingredients for a real page turner.’

  Toowoomba Chronicle

  MICHAEL JOSEPH

  UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia

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  Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies

  whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.

  First published by Penguin Group (Australia), 2015

  Text copyright © Barbara Hannay 2015

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Cover design by Debra Billson and Grace West © Penguin Group (Australia)

  Text design by Grace West © Penguin Group (Australia)

  Cover photographs: Girl by Jessica Truscott/Trevillion Images

  Sunset by Megan R. Hoover/Shutterstock

  penguin.com.au

  ISBN: 978-1-76014-017-5

  THE BEGINNING

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