by Margaret Way
Enid put her hands over her ears while Christine was talking, removing them when she stopped. “What would you know about marital problems?” she jeered. “Aren’t you the one who lost Mitchell Claydon? I’ve been a great wife and a great mother. I am shockingly, horribly disappointed in you and your father, Christine. It seems after all I’ve done for you both neither of you cares about me. Why don’t you go to your father now?” she urged angrily. “He’s in the study. And with our thirty-fourth anniversary coming up. The timing! Talk about treachery! He says she’s a lovely person. Can you beat that? Did you know your father was sleeping around?”
Christine stood up, wondering if her relationship with her mother was going to be as bad in adult life as it had been in her childhood and adolescence. “Why don’t you talk to Kyall about it?” she suggested quietly. “He’s your favourite, remember? I’m only Christine. I will go and talk to Dad. Despite my best intentions my conversations with you always turn into a disaster. Still, I’m sorry, Mum. Your happiness is important to me.”
“Oh, go away!” Enid cried vehemently. “You’ve never loved me, Christine. We’re totally different kinds of people. But my son won’t tolerate my suffering.”
Christine found her father sitting behind his desk, as quiet as her mother was frantic.
“Gosh, Dad, what have you done?” She shut the door behind her and took a seat on the leather Chesterfield.
“I hated doing it, Chris. But I’ve tried as hard as I can to stay with my marriage. It was doomed from the moment we moved into the homestead with Ruth.”
“Why didn’t you move out?”
“And take Enid away from the place she adored? Then when Kyall came it was impossible. Ruth idolized the boy. She set him up as her heir. Kyall McQueen. Your mother and I were never a loving couple. In our early days I was very fond of her. We had an understanding. I suppose I thought or hoped it would work out. But both of us had made terrible choices and we had to be responsible for them. I could never have lost you children. And Ruth would have seen to it that I did.”
“She’d have let me go like a shot.” Christine laughed shortly.
“I don’t think so. She needed you to torment. Your mother is just a born nagger.”
“She’s devastated,” Christine said. “Slashed wide open.”
Max’s whole body winced. “I’m truly sorry, but I have a right to some happiness in life. You and Kyall don’t need me now. And your mother has never needed me.”
“I don’t think that’s right at all, Dad. She just doesn’t know how to show it.”
“Don’t you think that amounts to the same thing? It’s all too late now. Ruth’s death ended the whole sorry charade. I need to be my own man, not your mother’s lackey. Anyway, for the first time in my life I’m deeply, truly in love.”
And didn’t she understand how glorious that was! “May I ask who she is?” Christine spoke gently.
“You don’t know her. She came to the town after you left. She’s very beautiful and very talented. A lot younger than I am, but nevertheless she loves me. Her name is Carol Lu. She’s an artist. She paints landscapes and she gives classes. I thought she was unattainable—that the whole thing, the attraction, was in my mind—then all of a sudden I knew. She cares as much for me as I care for her. She gives me strength. The strength to make this clean break.”
“But, Dad, it’s like an amputation,” Christine protested. “I know Mum isn’t good at it, but she does love you. I don’t think it has ever occurred to her you’d leave her.”
“I am leaving her, Chris,” her father said, “and I don’t feel guilty. It’s a tremendous experience for me, breaking up my marriage, but I’m sick to death of living a lie. For a long time now my marriage has been pointless and joyless. I don’t want to die without experiencing some happiness. Carol can give it to me and I to her. We communicate in a way your mother and I never have. It’s a wonderful, extraordinary intimacy. And I can’t give it up. I can’t take living here any more either.”
Christine felt such a rush of gloom she actually slumped. “You can’t mean you’re leaving before Kyall’s wedding, Dad? The timing couldn’t be worse.”
“Do you think I haven’t thought of that?” Max bowed his head. “I never meant to speak out today, but something your mother said—something about my failing her—brought it all to a head. She simply doesn’t know how to give relief or comfort. She never got any as a child and it scarred her for life.”
“What’s Kyall going to say?”
“Kyall won’t be surprised,” Max answered quietly, but with inner confidence. “Kyall won’t begrudge me happiness either. I know this has come as a terrible wrenching shock to your mother, and to you, but this is my last chance at happiness and I’m going to seize it. The marriage is over.”
In one way it would be a tremendous relief to get away to Sydney, Christine thought. As hard as she tried she couldn’t meet her mother’s needs, or help her deal with this deeply painful crisis in her life.
In her mother’s eyes, and with her mother’s talent for self-dramatization, Christine had become the enemy, not an ally. Christine had always loved her father the best. The two of them had always taken one another’s side. Enid couldn’t and wouldn’t face the painful truth that she, with massive support from Ruth, had created her own problems—alienating her husband to the extent he was desperate to strike out in another direction with another woman who made him feel totally loved.
As her father had predicted, Kyall hadn’t been shocked by the news. To him it had seemed inevitable, given the awesome power his grandmother had wielded over both his parents—keeping his mother tied close to the apron strings and at the same time treating his father as an outsider. Like Christine, he hated to see their mother in desperate pain, but neither could fail to feel sympathy for their father’s plight.
It was a grievous situation, generating a lot of anger on Enid’s part, and it had thrown the wedding plans into a quandary. Finally, after a series of family meetings, Max and Enid had agreed to maintain a united front—at least until after the wedding was over.
“I couldn’t survive the shame,” Enid had told them with burning black eyes.
Perhaps she secretly believed the marriage could be rebuilt. Neither Kyall nor Christine held out any such hopes.
Plans for the polo-picnic day were fast-tracked by Sarah, with Christine’s valuable help, to fit in with Christine’s schedule. The hospital always ran on a tight budget, despite the McQueens’ legendary generosity. It was Christine’s late grandmother who had caused the Bush Hospital to be built in the first place; in all honesty, it was one of the few truly good things the despotic Ruth had ever done.
With Sarah so busy at the hospital, and her mother so shaken by events, it fell to Christine to do much of the organizing—which suited her just fine. It kept her occupied and she found she had a natural flair for the job. Also, she loved the game of polo—polo being the focus of sporting activities in the Outback. There were other sports too, but exciting, potentially dangerous polo brought in the crowds and got the juices flowing. More to the point, as Sarah pointed out, it brought in donations for the hospital. The bigger the win of a favourite team, the bigger the donation.
Kyall’s team, which included Mitch, was hot favourite to win. Both men were wonderful athletes. Kyall was now lost to his legions of female fans, as he was shortly to marry Sarah, but Mitch was still available. Most of them knew all about his long relationship with Christine Reardon, but the hot gossip was—and Christine couldn’t seem to correct it—that she was involved with Ben Savage, who was due in Australia to promote his TV show. That left the gorgeous Mitch still out there, as far as all the local girls were concerned.
It turned out to be a wonderful day—a great success as a fundraiser, with everyone saying they must do it again.
The Logan sisters attended, as a matter of course, seated amid a large group of young people, all of them friends since childhood. Amanda, in charac
ter, looked very eye-catching—teasing, posing, laughing impishly, letting out little screams of excitement when Mitch in particular thundered down the field, her big blue eyes openly devouring him. She was determined on having a good time, which apparently included flirting with every attractive man in sight despite her enormous crush on Mitchell Claydon. For Amanda, flirting appeared to be second nature.
Afterwards Amanda made it her business to track down Mitch who, as a member of the winning team, looked like a god in the saddle and was surrounded by admirers, male and female. Everyone knew Mitch. He was a great guy.
Amanda oozed her way in close, grabbing him by the arm. “Aren’t you going to say hello to an old friend?” She smiled brightly, hugging him so her breasts pressed into his arm.
“Hi, Amanda!” Mitch tossed her a casual smile. “You look very pretty.” Indeed she did, with creamy bosoms popping out of a summery yellow halter-necked dress.
She let out a little squeal and twirled around. “I’ve never forgotten how you told me I looked good in yellow.”
“You do,” Mitch assured her in a somewhat less indulgent voice.
“Congratulations on your win,” she said sweetly, feeling tingly all over.
“It was a great match. Shelley here with you?”
“Yes. We wouldn’t have missed today for the world. When is Christine going back to Sydney?” she asked, willing the stunning, vivacious Christine, who was circling the guests, to stay away.
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“I will.” She laughed, a little bit of acid etched into the tinkle. “I must tell you how sorry I am I caused friction between you two. I was certain I’d read that article, but it must have been about someone else.”
“Forget it, Amanda. I have. Just be more careful in future.”
“Oh, I will. I felt just dreadful afterwards. Naturally I apologised to Christine. She’s such a lovely person and she understood. These things happen all the time.”
“What things?” Mitch looked over Amanda’s head with its buttery curls.
He could see Christine in the near distance, her lovely thick, springy hair, worn loose the way he liked it, lifting in the breeze. She looked effortlessly, supremely elegant in an all-white outfit that showed off her beautiful body. She wore a slinky designer top with a blue and silver logo and narrow linen pants. She had done a great job of organizing this event, and was a vibrant presence in the swarming sea of faces. Chris was very good with people. She made everything come right. But he couldn’t wait to get her to himself.
“You know the way things get misreported.” Amanda was nattering away like a flea in his ear. “But I didn’t get this wrong.” In a flash she unzipped her yellow shoulder bag, pulling out a folded piece of newspaper and waving it tauntingly like a red flag at a bull. “Didn’t Christine tell us her affair with Ben Savage was well and truly over?”
“Amanda, don’t embarrass yourself,” Mitch warned, but Amanda fumbled with the newspaper as the breeze threatened to whip it from her and shoved it beneath his nose.
“So what’s that, then?” She looked up at Mitch triumphantly, stabbing a fingernail at the clipping so hard it tore. “A red-hot example of lust, or is it love?”
“Throw it away, Amanda,” Mitch advised coolly. “That’s an old picture. It says so right there.”
“Sure, but you have to admit that’s some smooch!”
Anger engulfed him. “What do you hope to gain by this, Amanda?”
She seized his hand, looking up at him earnestly. “I’m on your side, Mitch. I’m your friend. I’m here for you. I want to save you pain.”
“You’re way too kind.”
“I really care about you, Mitch,” she protested. “When I saw that picture in the paper it worried me deeply. How can anyone turn it on and off so easily? Especially with that guy. Let’s face it. She left you once. She’ll do it again.”
“I’d like to think that’s my business, Amanda, not yours.” Mitch looked at her directly. “Why don’t you toddle off now? I’d be more than grateful.”
“Oh, Mitch, you make me sound like a troublemaker…”
“Amanda, we already know you are.”
What a meddlesome little bitch, Mitch thought as, lip trembling, Amanda flounced off. But she was right about one thing. That kiss looked very real. So real he was back to his fluctuating moods. Was it possible he and Ben Savage were united by one thing? Were both of them Christine’s victims? Sometimes it seemed there was no reassurance to be had.
Trust me. That’s all I’m asking you to do.
He could hear Christine’s voice distinctly as it sounded in his head. He could see her large, beautiful eyes, imploring him to have faith in her. It should be easy. In some ways it was. But there was always something to stir up doubt.
Christine was still surrounded by people when Mitch joined her admiring group. Everything was good and pleasant; people were making jokes. She looked quickly at him and put out her hand, a slight look of puzzlement in her eyes as she tried to gauge his mood. He should have been in high spirits after his exciting win, but her long experience of him told her he wasn’t.
“Excuse us, won’t you?” She glanced around with a smile.
“Good show, Mitch.” One of the spectators, a prominent grazier and an ex-champion polo player with a rock-hard physique, reached out and punched Mitch’s shoulder. “That was one helluva game!”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You and Kyall are really special.”
“That’s quite a compliment coming from you, sir.”
“Never been more sincere in my life. Good luck to you, Mitch. Remember me to your father.”
“Will do.”
“Is something wrong?” Christine asked as they moved away from the tented area where most of the guests were congregated, enjoying refreshments.
“No, not at all.” Blue gums dripped dry leaves like confetti. They burnished her hair. He looked away. She tore his heart.
“Your eyes tend to give you away Mitch” she said gently.
“So I’ve been told.”
“I suspect bouncy little Amanda might have something to do with it. I spotted you talking to her.”
“No, you spotted her talking to me,” he corrected.
“So what did she say this time to get under your skin?”
“You should stop asking those kind of questions, Chris.”
“No, you should answer. That’s if we want a future together—”
“Dare I hope?” he cut in sardonically.
“Do you want to hope? That’s the point. There’s no one else, Mitch.”
“Honest?” He gave her a half-smile though he wanted to cry out, I love you. But still he couldn’t.
“Don’t be difficult,” she begged. “It’s been such a good day. I haven’t spoken to a single person who isn’t delighted to be here.”
“It’s quite a crowd.” He looked about. The bunting and the women’s dresses were an explosion of colour in the hot sun.
“You need a crowd at a fundraiser. I’m pleased because this is my first.”
“You’ve done an excellent job.” It made him a little ashamed he couldn’t sound more enthusiastic—he was very proud of her.
“You’re making me feel uncomfortable, Mitch,” she said, dodging another cascade of falling leaves. “What did Amanda say to you? Obviously she’s lurking in the wings, hoping I’ll disappear from your life.”
“Again?”
“You’re being a bastard, really.” She caught his hand, instantly raising tingles. “Why are you feeling so threatened? I thought we’d worked that out.”
He stared down at their joined hands. Hers so smooth, soft-skinned and white, his deeply tanned, hardened from his way of life. “If you look at this thing coldly, Chrissy, I don’t really know your plans. You tell me you’re thinking positively of ditching your career. I’d love to believe it. But anything could happen when you get back to Sydney. All the razzle-dazzle will start
up again. You’ll have a job on your hands just fending Savage off.”
“Okay.” She raised her chin, her voice low and tight. “So this is all connected to Ben? Little screwball Amanda is passing on a lot of information. I thought I’d warned her.”
He made no immediate answer, keeping hold of her hand. “I don’t take any notice of Amanda, Chrissy. I think my own deep thoughts.”
“But you can’t push away the past?”
He felt a powerful tide of love towards her. “I’ve told you before. It’s not an easy thing for anyone to do. On the other hand, a future without you is just too bleak to contemplate.”
“You think I wouldn’t suffer too?”
His hand tightened unconsciously, causing her to give an involuntary little whimper. “I’m sorry,” he apologized immediately, easing his grip on her, “but that kind of thing only raises expectations. Be careful with that.”
“I mean what I say, Mitch. You can’t keep punishing me. We have to move on.”
“I know.” He stopped walking so he could turn to look at her, wanting desperately to kiss her, to feel her slender, pliant body in his arms. The longing was so unbearable sometimes he felt a kind of contempt for his own weakness.
To crush her mouth! He looked down at it. It was like a full-blown rose. He wanted to crumple it with the weight of his kiss. Impossible at the moment, with so many people about. But this was Christine, the sweet, ardent, beautiful long-legged creature he had loved from boyhood. He loved her more than his own life, of course. That was his trouble. He was unchanged and unchangeable.
“If I follow you to Sydney and you let me do that, I’ll never let you go,” he warned. “You’re the woman I want. One day mother of my kids. You’re my life. That’s a big responsibility, Chrissy. You’d better think long and hard.”
“Can’t you believe I’ve been doing just that?” she whispered, feeling so tender towards him she wanted to fold him into the softness of her breasts.
Despite the people around them, he couldn’t help but put his arm around her waist. “I don’t want you to leave.” The dappled sun gilded his face and struck pure gold from his hair. “Not for a minute. I want you beside me every morning I wake, the first face I see. Every night I want to make love to you in our bed. Nobody but you. It might be a strain, knowing that.”