‘Well, you should have; a six-thousand-dollar profit for five minutes’ work isn’t to be sneezed at, or in your case more probably growled at.’
‘Growled is exactly right. The man just made me so damned angry...’
‘All the more reason to have taken his money. What kind of a neighbour do you expect him to make now? You’ve refused a perfectly good offer, growled at him into the bargain, and now you’re about to add insult to injury by moving in before he has any chance to repeat the offer or negotiate at all.’
‘But, John, that’s why I bought the place; to live there. 1 didn’t buy it to resell to Dare Fraser or anyone else.’
‘With six thousand dollars extra, you could have bought a place handier to town and with the chance of less hostile neighbours. It does bear thinking about, even now.’
‘Not to me!’
The lawyer scowled, but Fiona could tell he wasn’t all that angry. ‘I suppose you’ve not talked to your estate agent since this performance either?’ he asked then. ‘For all you know, this Fraser might have come up with a real live offer.’
"If he had, I’m sure Mr Barron would have tried to reach me with it. After all, think of the double commission he’d be getting for doing almost nothing at all. No, I think Fraser was talking through his hat, or just so angry at the time that he decided to try me on. But I don’t think he was all that serious.’
The lawyer’s scowl now was serious. ‘I think you may find there’s more to Dare Fraser than you reckon,’ he said. ‘He’s got a fairly hefty reputation for getting what he wants.’
‘So have I,’ Fiona replied grimly. ‘And I want my property, which I have paid for. If Dare Fraser doesn’t like it he can just damned well put up with it.’
‘Or you’ll set your dogs on him, I suppose. Speaking of which, how’s the horrible one now that he’s been fixed?’
Fiona laughed. ‘He’ll never be the dog his father is, but I suspect if he lives long enough he’ll settle into something fairly useful.’ Trader’s father was, in fact, a yellow dog she’d arranged for John to get several years earlier, and he, too, had now been ‘fixed’, in his case to cure him of endless lovelorn roamings. ‘I presume Murphy’s a bit better behaved now?’
‘Infinitely,’ was the pleased response.
Having finalised settlement of the purchase, Fiona spent the next few days organising to have the electricity reconnected, and the telephone. Water was her own problem, coming as it did from the large rainwater tanks beneath the spreading eaves of the old house.
The tasks were more difficult than she had expected, as was arranging the movement of her small supply of furniture and buying the various essentials she now required. Her former house had been rented fully furnished; now she had empty rooms to fill and nothing to fill them with. Not even, for the first few days, a proper bed.
But by the following weekend she was essentially settled in and generally pleased with the results of much scrubbing and dusting.
The biggest problem, she found, was the totally inadequate kennels. With Lala coming into season, there was an immediate need to create a secure kennel block, so on this Saturday morning Fiona found herself returning from Hobart with her station-wagon labouring under a load of weldmesh fencing panels.
She was approaching her driveway when the police patrol car wheeled up behind her, roof lights flashing. It wasn’t until she got out of the vehicle that she realised one of the fencing panels was dangling dangerously off the roof-rack.
‘A bit dangerous, lady,’ said the policeman, stepping from his vehicle with an aura of brisk authority.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Fiona replied, flushed with embarrassment. ‘I didn’t realise...’
‘You’d have realised quick enough if some of that lot had fallen off into the road in front of somebody driving behind you,’ the policeman replied sternly, then ignored her as he stalked around her old station-wagon, observing every detail of vehicle and load with a jaundiced eye.
She had already fished through her handbag for the driving licence she expected him to ask for, but the question was forestalled by the arrival of yet another observer — one whom Fiona would have gladly taken the expected ticket just to avoid.
Fiona watched in her rear-vision mirror, the policeman standing silent beside her, as the unmistakable figure of Dare Fraser unfolded itself from the cabin of the farm utility vehicle and approached.
Was there, she wondered, a distinct gleam of satisfaction in those dark eyes? Very likely! She could just imagine how pleased this man must be at her predicament.
And now what? Would he join the policeman in giving her a well-deserved ticking off? Or perhaps use his local influence to ensure a heavier than normal penalty? She had a momentary flash of deja vu, could almost hear Fraser’s cryptic, scathing description of the incident when he appeared in court as a witness to her carelessness.
But his first words, to her great surprise after stepping down from her vehicle, were anything but scathing!
‘Bit of bad luck with that lashing,’ he commented with a quick look at the problem. Nothing in his manner revealed the joy Fiona knew he must be feeling.
‘Very dangerous situation, sir,’ said the policeman, and Fiona found herself distinctly miffed at the respect which Fraser so easily commanded.
‘Indeed. And very fortunate, I’d say, that you were on hand to alert Miss Boyd to the danger,’ Fraser replied smoothly. The smile he gave the policeman was genuine enough, but Fiona noticed how easily it created a man- to-man atmosphere from which she was automatically excluded.
Neither man so much as glanced at Fiona as they strolled round the vehicle, discussing the problem as some merely academic exercise in the carrying of bulky, unwieldy materials.
Fiona could only follow in their wake, becoming increasingly embarrassed as the foolishness of her situation was discussed.
The gates and steel posts for her new kennel had fitted inside the station-wagon without difficulty, but the sheer size of the eight-foot-by-two-metre panels had forced her to try to carry them on the roof. It was that, or have them delivered, which would have meant a weekend wasted while she waited for the Monday delivery. By carrying them herself, she could start work on the structure immediately, so she’d taken the chance.
At the time it had seemed a reasonable enough decision, but as she viewed the precarious load through the men’s far more experienced eyes she realised how criminally stupid she’d been.
The weight of the panels had forced the entire roof-rack out of alignment, and her inexpert attempts to lash the dozen panels in place had only compounded the problem.
I’m lucky the whole issue didn’t spill into the road on the very first curve, she thought, and cringed when Dare Fraser voiced almost identical thoughts to the nodding agreement of the policeman.
But her cringe turned to outright astonishment at her neighbour’s next remark. Astonishment followed by total bewilderment and disbelief.
‘I suppose I’ll have to take most of the blame,’ she heard Fraser say, and looked up to find him glaring at her as if to stifle any challenge. ‘If I hadn’t been so late. Miss Boyd wouldn’t have been forced to try such a risky undertaking. We’re neighbours, you see, and I was supposed to get there on time to bring this stuff back in the ute.’
The blatancy of the lie was loo much for Fiona, who stood there — speechless — as Fraser steered faultlessly through a complicated explanation about why he’d been late, and how she must have presumed he wasn’t coming after all.
It was, she determined, a masterful exercise in deceit; the policeman listened patiently to every word and was clearly taken in by the lies.
Throughout the telling. Dare Fraser shot commanding glances in her direction, and the message was unmistakable: Not one word! Fiona stewed, confused by Fraser’s gambit, but she obeyed.
When Fraser had finished, he gave Fiona no chance to get in an explanation of her own. With hardly a glance in her direction, he disentang
led her lashings and started switching the weldmesh panels into the back of his utility vehicle.
Just for an instant, she thought the policeman was going to be conned into helping, but a yelp from the police radio in the patrol car diverted his attention, and after a muttered conversation he waved to Dare Fraser and drove away.
‘You might give me a hand with this, seeing as I’m late already.’ Fraser’s voice was no longer congenial as it had been with the policeman. Now it grated, and as Fiona turned to face him she could see that his story hadn’t been the only deceitful thing about the man. His gaze was cold, his manner brusque, almost angry.
She rushed to help, despite an immediate wish that he’d left the panels alone. This close to home, she could have managed on her own, but now that he’d shifted more than half of them she couldn’t reasonably refuse his assistance.
‘I’m really very grateful for this,’ she began, reaching to grip her end of the next panel as he lifted it from the top of the vehicle.
Fraser merely growled.
‘You ought to be grateful you didn’t kill somebody with this stuff,’ he said. ‘Preferably whoever taught you to tie knots. Didn’t it ever occur to you to stop and check, occasionally?’
‘I did, once,’ she replied, scooting to keep up with his lengthy strides as he dragged her along with him towards the utility vehicle.
Defensive, all the more so because she knew he was right, Fiona bit her tongue to keep from a testy reply when he ignored her and continued his harangue.
‘Why the hell you didn’t have it delivered in the first place, I can’t imagine,’ he said.
‘They couldn’t deliver it until Monday, and I’d have wasted the entire weekend waiting for it,’ she replied, careful to keep her own voice reasonable, conciliatory. ‘And besides, they charge for delivery and I’m on a very tight budget.’
Inwardly, she was starting to fume. Bad enough he had to get involved, but just because he’d saved her a traffic ticket there was no reason to think he could start running her life for her.
‘So instead of a small delivery fee, you’re going to cop mighty penalty rates getting somebody to work on the weekend,’ he replied with a sneer, gesturing at her to grab her end of the next panel.
Fiona was hard put to it to match his pace, and her reply was gasped out.
‘I’m going ... to do it ... myself,’ she panted, trotting to keep up as he marched again to his utility vehicle.
Fraser said nothing until they’d laid the fencing panel on top of the others. Then he straightened and stared down at Fiona, seeming to see her for the first time.
She met his gaze squarely, suddenly conscious of her faded, ragged blue jeans and scuffed running shoes, the fact that her jumper was stained and her make-up nonexistent.
Dare Fraser, by comparison, was almost immaculate. His moleskin trousers were clean, showing the creases of recent ironing. His own jumper was tidy over a checked shirt and even his elastic-sided boots were spotless.
He was freshly shaven, and the dark hair that flopped down across his forehead was clean and only slightly mussed by the breeze. Once again, Fiona found herself seeking a better word than handsome, a more appropriate word to portray the sheer power of the man.
He loomed above her, seeming taller than the six-foot height she reckoned. And his eyes, black with anger only moments before, now flashed with amusement. Or contempt!
One dark eyebrow cocked, he allowed a flicker of a smile to cross that mobile mouth, then turned away and marched back to heave at another fencing panel, glancing down into the back of her station-wagon as he approached it.
Clearly visible inside were the gates, the posts and the various bits and pieces required for erecting the fencing, along with a rented post-hole digger.
As Fiona rushed forward to take up her end, Fraser waved her away disdainfully. ‘You’d best save your strength,’ he muttered, easily lifting two panels together above his head and carting them across to the other vehicle.
‘Hang on,’ she cried, angry now at the implied slur as well as at being so abruptly dismissed. She trotted after him, only to find herself forced to step aside as he loaded the panels and turned quickly to return for the final pair.
Fraser merely looked at her briefly before picking up the panels and returning to his utility vehicle with them.
‘Don’t forget your ropes,’ he said. ‘You might need them to hold all this together.’
And before she could reply he had turned away to get into the cab, where he sat, drumming his fingers on the steering-wheel and obviously waiting for her to take the lead.
Fiona returned to start her own vehicle, fairly shaking with anger as she, after carefully checking for oncoming traffic, pulled onto the highway for the brief journey home.
Damn the man and his arrogance, she thought. Just because of one slipped knot, he was going to treat her like a total incompetent. Worse, he would get away with it, now that he’d so handily put her in a position of being obliged to him.
Fraser followed as she drove into the yard, but was curiously incurious as he offloaded the weldmesh panels and stacked them against the side of the barn.
Fiona found it unusual that he showed no apparent interest in either the house or the outbuildings, asked no questions about her plans, her reasons for having bought the property, or anything else.
Her own anger at his attitude had fled; vindictiveness was not strong in her. And once the work was done, she was faced with putting a polite face on the whole ordeal.
‘Thank you for everything,’ she said. And then, ‘Would you like a drink, or coffee or something?’
Fraser glanced down at his now grimy hands and replied, ‘1 wouldn’t knock back the chance to clean up; I’ve an appointment in the city.’
‘And you’re already late. I’d forgotten that,’ she said, grateful for the fact despite feeling mildly guilty. Dare Fraser seemed to dominate his surroundings far too much for her taste, and while politeness was obviously required she wouldn’t be unhappy to see him go.
‘It’s no great hassle,’ he replied unexpectedly. ‘And, if you’ll show me where I can wash, I’d love a cup of coffee.’
She led him to the back door and, without thinking, opened it to an explosion of dogs that very nearly knocked her over in their excitement. Then they realised she wasn’t alone, and Dare Fraser was treated to a concert of raised hackles and suspicious barks and growls.
‘That’ll do!’ she cried, only to be ignored by all three as they swarmed around Fraser’s feet.
Her guest seemed also to ignore her. He stood stock still, since to move without kicking or treading on a dog would have been impossible.
But it wasn’t through fear or apprehension; even as Fiona watched, he slowly descended to a semi-crouch, emitting an almost soundless whistling as he did so and letting those huge, muscular hands rest across his knees with knuckles outstretched to the pack around him.
The effect was magical; the cacophony of growls and yodels halted immediately as the dogs thronged forward to sniff at Fraser’s hands and trouser legs. He stayed in position until each dog had made its inspection, then slowly rose to his full height and growled, ‘Sit!’
Which, to Fiona’s astonishment, they did. Even the incorrigible Trader plunked his bottom down in recognition of this undeniable higher authority.
‘Good dogs,’ Fraser announced in recognition, and then stepped past the animals and into the house, Fiona trailing in his wake as the dogs sat quietly and watched.
‘I won’t be a minute,’ he said, striding off towards the bathroom, and it wasn’t until he was out of sight down the corridor that she realised that, although he had earlier mentioned being shown where to wash, he had needed no showing at all. He knew exactly where things were in this house.
That, for some reason, bothered her not at all. It was almost as if she’d expected such familiarity, somehow!
Fiona had the electric jug boiling when he returned, but she foun
d the polite routine of serving coffee, asking if he took milk, sugar, getting the expected responses, frustrating in the extreme. She didn’t care how he took his coffee; she wanted to know how he knew so much about the inside of her house!
Worse, the devil knew how she felt. Each glance of those observant dark eyes around the kitchen told her he was making some assessment of her so-far minuscule changes to the way the kitchen had been.
And he was so quiet. Instead of filling the silences with idle conversation, he merely sipped at his coffee, glancing occasionally round the room, occasionally at her. Silent, assessing, somehow vaguely threatening.
And when he finally did speak, it wasn’t about the house, wasn’t about her own curiosity.
‘You’ll need a crowbar to get those posts in the ground here,’ he said without preamble. ‘There’s a helluva lot of rocks.’
Having no idea what he was talking about, she could only nod an acceptance when he continued by saying he happened to have one in the truck and would leave it with her.
Moments later he was rising to leave, having recognised her curiosity and chosen — deliberately, perhaps even maliciously, she realised — to ignore it. He knew this house and, worse, he knew that she recognised that fact, knew she wanted information. And wasn’t going to give it to her.
The dogs greeted them with an unexpectedly subdued attitude when they returned to the yard, almost as if they had already accepted Dare Fraser’s mastery. It was an attitude Fiona found infuriating; they should be threatening to have the man’s left leg for lunch, she thought angrily, not kowtowing to him as if he were some minor god!
Even more infuriating was the ease with which he hefted an enormous iron fencing crowbar from the bed of his utility vehicle and handed it to Fiona as if it were a twig. The weight of the mighty bar, which had a round knob at one end and a sharp wedge at the other, staggered her to the point where she almost dropped the tool, which was almost as tall as herself.
Love Thy Neighbour Page 3