Riding the Storm

by Heather Graves

  ‘Well, call him,’ Val said, ‘and find out.’

  ‘I have good news, Chrissie,’ the old man said when she contacted him. ‘Walker and Associates, your ex-employers, have pushed too many people too far. There’s to be a class action against them for several wrongful dismissals and I’m wondering whether you’d care to join them to help build a stronger case?’

  ‘Oh, Uncle Henry, I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘I want nothing more to do with those people, let alone work for them again.’

  ‘No, my darling, you don’t understand. This isn’t about getting your old job back – it’s about compensation and retrieving your good name.’

  ‘I don’t care about the compensation.’

  ‘Then you should. Some of these young people don’t have wealthy families to fall back on. We feel certain the Walkers will want to avoid the publicity and settle out of court. So how do you feel about it now?’

  ‘Thank you, Uncle Henry. I was being selfish. Of course I’ll join in. I’d very much like to get rid of this black mark against me.’

  ‘I only wish you’d mentioned it to me before. We could have started something sooner. These people have been taking advantage of promising young graduates for too long.’

  ‘I didn’t think about it. I thought it was only me.’

  ‘That’s what everyone thought – until some of them started comparing notes. I’ll keep you posted, Chrissie.’

  Robert’s funeral was surprisingly well-attended. Although he wasn’t a popular figure at the track, arrogant and irascible towards those he considered his rivals and far from generous towards reporters, maybe most people were there to make sure he was really dead. Val and Chrissie were formally dressed in black and Sir Henry was with them, lending respectability and old-world charm.

  The service was conducted in a chapel attached to the crematorium, the venue hastily changed to a larger room as more people than expected kept arriving to pay their respects. The minister who conducted the service had no personal knowledge of Robert and could offer little more than the standard platitudes. The coffin, after the conventional display of white lilies had been removed, disappeared into the inferno that could be heard roaring behind the curtains in record time. Shortly afterwards, Val and Chrissie found themselves outside, receiving condolences and examining a multitude of floral tributes from people they scarcely knew.

  Most people don’t attend weddings unless they’re invited but that wasn’t the case with this funeral as Val quickly found out. A lot more people than she was expecting descended on her house like a swarm of locusts, expecting to be fed. Luckily, Margie’s sister was in catering and was persuaded to come to the rescue with a van full of sandwiches and snacks. Robert’s precious hoard of single-malt whisky was raided to provide bracing drinks for everyone and, after a while, people forgot that it was a funeral feast and turned it into a party. All that was missing was music and dancing. It was well into the evening before everyone left and went home. Margie was last to leave, telling Val and Chrissie to leave the room as it was and get some rest; she would be back to clear up first thing in the morning.

  ‘The worst is over now, Mum,’ Chrissie said, hugging her mother, who seemed slighter than usual, these days. ‘But you look exhausted. You need to sleep.’

  Val headed for the stairs, too tired even to reply.

  ‘I’ll go and check on Tommy before I turn in,’ Ryan said. ‘I haven’t seen him all day.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Chrissie said, catching his hand and linking her fingers with his.

  Tommy was pleased to see Ryan as always, no matter what time of the day or night it might be, although he regarded Chrissie with suspicion and stamped his foot when Ryan put a protective arm around her.

  ‘You don’t have to be jealous, old chap,’ Ryan said, rubbing the colt’s nose. ‘We’ll have you covering all the mares you can handle, when the time comes.’

  Chrissie broke free, laughing. ‘I’m not sure I like being called a mare to be handled,’ she said.

  ‘Ssh.’ Ryan knew she was teasing. ‘I have to put it in terms that Tommy will understand.’

  They wandered through the stables and Chrissie was surprised to see so many unusually clean and empty stalls with tack hanging unused on the walls.

  ‘I knew Dad had lost a few horses,’ she said. ‘But nobody told me it was as bad as this.’

  ‘Look on the bright side,’ Ryan said. ‘Your father wasn’t the easiest man to get along with—’

  ‘You can say that again,’ Chrissie said with a wry smile.

  ‘And when Tommy attracts new owners to the stables – as he will – they’ll be people who’ve chosen us because they have faith in your mother – and ourselves.’ He pulled her into his arms and he rested his chin on her head. ‘What is that? You smell wonderful.’

  ‘Stick to the point.’

  ‘Chrissie, there’s something I haven’t told you. Very soon I must go back up north.’

  She drew back and looked up into his face, wide-eyed. ‘No, Ryan. Why?’

  ‘Don’t look so stricken. It won’t be for long. Just long enough to make a deal with Glen Harrison about the old farm.’

  ‘You’ve decided to sell it, then?’

  ‘I could probably manage it long distance without going up there at all, but Glen’s a businessman first and he might be tempted to cheat me. He’ll offer me a far better price if I’m there on the spot twisting his arm.’

  ‘I could go with you. I’ve never been up north.’

  ‘Another time. You need to be here, helping your uncle with the case against the Walkers. And it won’t be for long – I’ll get my dad’s old solicitors to handle it soon as we’ve agreed on a price.’

  She reached up to place her arms around his neck and raised her face to be kissed. Willingly, he obliged.

  ‘You’ll sleep in my room tonight, Ryan,’ she whispered.

  ‘Whoa.’ He opened his eyes to look at her. ‘What about your…?’

  ‘Mum will sleep forever. She’s exhausted. I’ll go in first and you come up in about half an hour.’

  He caught her in yet another embrace before she could leave. ‘Oh, Chrissie, I love you so much.’

  ‘I know. And I love you too,’ she said with an impish smile.

  Inside the house, Chrissie listened at her mother’s door, rewarded by the sound of gentle snoring. She wasn’t at all sure her mother would understand or approve of the relationship she was conducting with her cousin but right now she didn’t care. She wanted Ryan in a way that she’d never wanted anyone in her whole life and she was prepared to make herself the centre of his. And she knew, without a doubt, that he felt the same. He was straightforward and uncomplicated, carrying no baggage from previous affairs. On reaching her bedroom, she leaned back against the door and closed her eyes, overcome by a wave of desire, imagining Ryan’s strong, young body hard against her own. She hoped he wouldn’t be long.

  He wasn’t. She had time only to have a quick shower, anoint herself with her favourite Jo Malone body crème, put on her newest silk nightgown and turn down all the lights before he was there. He came in stealthily, without knocking, and just as she had done, leaned back for a moment against the door.

  ‘Oh,’ he whispered. ‘It smells lovely in here. Is it you or the room?’

  ‘Come here,’ she said, sensing his diffidence as she took him by the hand and led him to the bed. She pushed him down onto it and straddled him, unembarrassed by her own forwardness.

  ‘Chrissie,’ he said, suddenly anxious. ‘I don’t want to disappoint you but I don’t – that is, I haven’t—’

  ‘Been with a girl before.’ She smiled down at him. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not all that experienced myself. We’ll just do what seems right and let nature take its course.’

  Nature did. Clumsy and over-anxious at first, they were able to make love many times, becoming attuned to each other’s needs and marvelling at the pleasure they could give and receive. Caught u
p in the excitement of new love, soon the rest of the world ceased to exist for them and they lost all sense of time. At last, sated and locked in each other’s arms, they fell into a dreamless and exhausted sleep. They heard nothing until there was a soft knocking at the door in the morning, bringing them instantly awake as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over them.

  Ryan dived under the covers and Chrissie covered his head with her spare pillow, pushing the bedclothes around him in the hope that her mother wouldn’t see anything more than a dishevelled bed.

  ‘Good morning.’ Val almost sang the words. She had recovered from the ordeal of attending Robert’s funeral and seemed like her old self again. She placed a tray with two cups of coffee and two croissants with jam and butter on the table beside the bed. ‘It’s all right, Ryan, I know you’re in there. Breakfast is served and you can come out now.’

  Sheepishly, Ryan sat up, revealing a tousled head.

  ‘Are you all right with this, Mum?’ Chrissie said. ‘You’re not upset?’

  ‘Bit late to worry about that now, isn’t it?’ Val sat down on the bed. ‘I’m a child of the swinging sixties, remember – not that easy to shock. I went to sleep much too early and found myself wide awake in the early hours. So I went down to the stables to look at the records and think about starting a campaign to bring us new owners. When Ryan didn’t turn up to look after Tommy as usual, I asked Jim to feed the colt and came back to the house to rouse him, only to find an empty bed. And, as you two have been so close lately, it was a small step to conclude that he must be in yours.’

  ‘You don’t have to worry, Mum.’ Chrissie sighed. ‘It’s only a one-night stand – we know it can’t happen again. We are in love, yes.’ She took Ryan’s hand and held it close as if to give herself strength to say it. ‘But we both know nothing can come of it because we’re too closely related.’

  ‘But that’s what I’m here to tell you, my darling. You’re not.’

  She had their full attention then; they were both instantly wide awake.

  ‘So what are you saying?’ Chrissie whispered. ‘That the conniving old bastard you married wasn’t really my father?’

  ‘Oh, come on, that’s a bit strong, even for you,’ Val smiled. ‘I hope you’re not worried about speaking ill of the dead?’

  ‘Not in his case. A man who can employ a commando to do all his dirty work because he can’t find the courage to do it himself.’

  ‘I get the point. Don’t say any more.’ Val placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her. ‘Sorry to raise your hopes only to dash them but Rob Lanigan really was your father. The difference comes from Ryan’s side of the family.’

  Ryan spoke for the first time. ‘Oh no, Val, you have to be wrong about that. My mother would never have been unfaithful. She never loved anyone but Peter, my father.’

  ‘I know. They were the romance of the century. But nobody ever told you – or Peter for that matter – that he himself was adopted as a baby.’

  ‘I don’t think so. That would have come out before now. Anyway, how can you be so sure?’

  ‘Because I heard it from Claire Lanigan herself, the boys’ mother. It’s a heartbreaking story. She felt as though her whole life was blighted because her sons couldn’t be friends.’ She paused to pass each of them a cup of coffee and a croissant. ‘Eat your breakfast while it’s warm and I’ll tell you what I know. Claire told me only because I pressed her. As I was marrying Robert, I wanted to know everything about him, including the cause of his animosity towards his younger brother that seemed to be there even before he married Joanne.

  ‘Your grandparents married late in life and, after Robert was born, Claire was told there would be no more children. Not wanting Robert to grow up alone, she persuaded her husband to let her adopt another baby boy when their son was just eighteen months old. She went away for a month or so before the adoption and when she returned, she let friends and relatives assume the child was her own. She visualized her boys growing up with a strong bond between them; two young men standing together against the world. But it didn’t turn out that way. Robert was jealous of the baby and loathed him almost at first sight. Claire kept hoping he’d get over it and the boys would be friends, but instead the situation went from bad to worse. Nor did it help that her husband loved Peter more than his natural son and didn’t trouble to hide his feelings. Robert reminded him too much of his own father, who had been a stern disciplinarian and believed in regular beatings to “form character” or so he said.

  ‘More comparisons were made as the boys grew older. Peter was a natural horseman, in tune with his father’s lifestyle, while Robert was always too stiff and heavy to sit well on a horse. And in later life, when they were both adults, Robert had to watch Joanne reject him in favour of the younger brother he detested. Their father died unexpectedly, leaving the stables to both of them, but Robert wouldn’t rest until he had sole ownership, driving Peter away. Claire never found the courage to tell either of them the truth about Peter’s adoption and she died, leaving the burden of that knowledge with me. At the time, I thought the secret might as well stay buried with Claire. Since Peter and Joanne were building a new life together up north, I thought there was no need to tell as our paths would never cross. Until the cyclone came and turned the whole world upside down.’

  ‘Wait a moment, Mum,’ Chrissie said. ‘How can you be sure that this is really the truth? I remember Nan Lanigan and she was a strange old bird. How do you know she didn’t make it all up?’

  ‘Here comes the lawyer, wanting proof as usual.’ Val smiled. ‘Claire Lanigan had a secret compartment in her old Victorian desk and she showed it to me. That’s where she kept the adoption papers. She made me promise that if anything happened to her, I would go and clear her desk before Robert found them. He was hopping mad when he discovered the secret compartment with nothing inside it. He’d been so certain it would contain money or jewels.’

  ‘Can I see those papers, if you still have them?’ Ryan said softly. ‘I’d like to see the proof of who I really am.’

  ‘Of course,’ Val said. ‘They belong to you now that Peter’s gone.’

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ Chrissie said, clasping her mother’s hand. ‘Thank you so much for this news. You don’t know what this means to us.’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t let you go on agonizing, thinking you were doing something wrong.’ Val smiled. ‘It’s all right. In today’s world, relationships can be much more casual. So if this is no more than a little adventure – a one-night stand – no one will think any the worse of you for it.’

  ‘Make no mistake, Val,’ Ryan said. ‘This isn’t a trivial thing to me at all. I love Chrissie. Really, I do. But it’s still early days for us. And if she doesn’t want to marry, that’s OK with me, too.’

  ‘We’re not related,’ Chrissie hugged him. ‘I feel as if I’ve had the best Christmas and birthday present all rolled into one.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AS TOMMY WAS having a rest in the paddock before getting down to the serious business of the Spring Carnival, Ryan took a short break to go back to Canesville for the first time since he left many months before. He didn’t want to put added pressure on Chrissie after all she’d been through nor did he want her to think he was too needy. If he was honest with himself, he was passionately in love and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But somehow he knew that this was the time to give her some space.

  Glen Harrison himself met him at the airport in Cairns and, as they drove north, Ryan could see that many changes had already been made. Wherever possible and there was money enough to spend, old or damaged buildings were being replaced by new ones and, as plants grow fast and healing happens quickly in the tropics, he could see that many farmers had optimistically planted their crops again and his old home town was well on the way to recovery.

  As they turned down the narrow lane that led to his parents’ property, Ryan’s throat tightened and he felt close to tears as Glen chattered on o
f plans to remake and widen the road, unaware of his young companion’s emotional turmoil. Back in these familiar surroundings, the events of the past came all too vividly to life. Ryan could almost hear his father’s voice in his head, grooming him to be his successor and helping him to understand the business of training horses. There was also the clean, fresh smell of a tropical sea that had been absent from his life for too long, reminding him of the joys of galloping along a beach. He could bear to think of it only now he knew his father’s death was no accident and hadn’t been caused by his beloved horse.

  When they came to a full stop outside the ruins of his old home, Ryan had to fight for composure. The tree that had killed his mother was still lying where it had fallen; no one had troubled to move it or cut it up. The old homestead itself was water-damaged from the heavy rains that had followed the cyclone, but Ryan, seeing it now through a visitor’s eyes, thought it seemed a lot smaller and poorer than the home he remembered.

  He cleared his throat when he was at last able to speak. ‘Mum was right,’ he said. ‘If the roof had been mended and strengthened, we might have got away with it and the house would still have been standing.’

  ‘I doubt it, Ryan. Like so many of these old weatherboard homes, it was old and coming to the end of its useful life. But your father was wise to add a new stable block – that will give a buyer something to think about. And when we’ve built something more solid to replace your old home and put in a swimming pool, along with some other amenities—’

  ‘I’m sorry, Glen,’ Ryan broke in, close to tears again. ‘I thought I could do this but I can’t. Coming here has brought back too many memories. I don’t want to go inside to see if there’s anything left—’