Bella's Run

by Margareta Osborn

‘Well . . . I suppose I’m telling you that’s what we’re doing, Hells Bells.’ There was that nickname again. ‘The tour leaves in a month and they’ve got four tickets left. A sudden cancellation, someone kicked the bucket so the other three who booked don’t want to go. Aunty Maggie’s going to come with us – to help me with your mother.’

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘Six months or so, I’d reckon,’ came the reply. ‘The initial world cruise goes for a hundred and four nights, stops at forty-two ports. Then the travel agents have hooked us up with another land tour that takes us on a jaunt around Europe.’ Her father’s voice was animated and he sounded more excited than he’d been in years. Bella listened with amazement. Why hadn’t he mentioned this a month ago when she was up at Merinda?

  ‘Justin and Melanie are right to run the farm by themselves. Maggie’s in a bit more strife, but I think she’ll just sell the stock and get that old codger Wes Ogilvie down the road to keep an eye on the place. Of course, Will O’Hara would be around too, but he’s really busy now he’s expanded his station into cropping and lucerne as well as cattle. It’s a bit of a pickle, because Maggie really wants to come and I need her help with your mum . . .’

  Her father paused, hesitant to air his next thought. Bella couldn’t have known he was wondering at the wisdom of what he was going to suggest next. If Maggie’s meddlesome plot was really going to work or if it would just complicate his daughter’s life even further. But he didn’t want to see his beloved daughter end up with Warren either. He wasn’t right for her. Frank took a deep breath. ‘That’s unless you could see your way clear for a bit of a spell from that hectic city life you’ve got down there?’

  And suddenly Bella knew.

  The telephone call wasn’t to tell her of the trip of a lifetime.

  No, he was slinging her a lifeline. To come back to the bush to sort out what she really wanted to do with her life.

  ‘I didn’t mention the cruise when you were up here, love, as I wasn’t sure it was going to come off. But now it has and it’s all a bit of a rush. What do you think? Can you help poor old Maggie out?’

  Bella didn’t tell Warren about the phone call. She didn’t get to tell him much these days. She’d come back from the wedding after the night at Merinda, feeling guilt-ridden and miserable, to find him buzzing with excitement and humming with energy, all memories of their fight over the CEO forgotten.

  Taking her into his arms, he’d burbled, ‘There’s a takeover bid happening, darling. And they want me to head up the team! What an opportunity! It’ll mean I’ll need to be at the office more, but what a step for my career! I’ll be up for board member before we know it. They know how good I am, what I can do – and this is my reward.’ He twirled her around the floor with glee, landing a fleeting kiss on her lips before letting her go.

  The lights of Melbourne were his backdrop as his arms drew pictures in the air of all the things he would do to ensure Oxford, Bride and Associates were the winning players in this corporate duel. And Bella had been so wracked with guilt over her indiscretion with Will she’d faked the enthusiasm Warren so desperately wanted. He was so sure she would be happy for him, so positive she would rejoice and back him all the way; she pushed her doubts about their future aside.

  But not once did he ask for her opinion.

  Not once did he ask about her weekend.

  He didn’t enquire about her mother’s health or her father’s farm. He obviously thought he’d done his duty just by coming to the reception.

  And now, after her father’s phone call, she lay alone in a cold silk-sheeted bed remembering it all. Realising she needed to make some decisions. Stop taking the easy route and drifting along. The city with its frenetic pace was an easy place to do that.

  Warren loved her, in his own funny way. But she couldn’t continue to be what he wanted – an accessory to his success. Deep down she admitted to herself it wasn’t all his fault. Up until recently she’d been happy sitting on the sidelines living his dreams.

  But now? Wasn’t it time she took control of her life and created some dreams of her own?

  Her trip back into the mountains and seeing her old way of life made her realise how, deep down, she really missed it. She’d never wholeheartedly committed herself to being a city chick; in fact, she had been as resistant to it as Warren had been to the country. While she liked her job with the public-relations firm, the shine of it had begun to pall. All the networking and being nice to people she really didn’t like, just to get their patronage and money. She wasn’t like Warren, she admitted to herself. She didn’t want to make her job her life.

  We work to live, girlfriend, not live to work. You’ve got to get the balance right, chickadee. Patty’s voice rang clearly in her head.

  That was another startling thing since the wedding at Ben Bullen Hills – she’d heard Patty’s voice in her head, come ringing back to life. She’d even felt ghostly warm arms clasped around her shoulders. It was spooky, but comforting. Was Patty telling her something, Bella wondered, as she lay in the half-dark, reflections from the city lights casting shadows around the silent room.

  Bella moved her head and stared at the small photo sitting on her bedside table. Boots and hats flying, arms swinging, she and Patty danced silently in time to Sara Storer, somewhere outside Tamworth on the way home from up north.

  Maybe taking time out at Tindarra was what she needed – to sort out whether she really wanted the city to be her life. The only place she could see Warren moving was further up the corporate tree of Oxford and Bride. If she married him she would be stuck in the city forever.

  Marry him? Christ, you’re not still thinking of doing that, Hells Bells? Patty’s voice sent shivers down her spine.

  A clunking noise startled her, her heart jumping a beat. The airconditioner hummed to life and pumped its artificial breath around the stark room. Warren liked to sleep in the cold when he finally made it home. If he made it home, she amended to herself, as she tried to find some warmth in the freezing bed. She didn’t know where the hell he’d been sleeping lately, but it wasn’t in this dockside morgue.

  Thoughts of Aunty Maggie’s quaint old cottage flooded her mind, with its corrugated-iron roof that resonated with tinny music whenever it rained. Then there was the slow-combustion stove inside that ran hot twenty-four hours a day, making a cosy welcome. Bella remembered the day she had been shocked to see Maggie pull a sponge from the top oven while shoving a live lamb back into the bottom oven with her slippered foot.

  ‘It’s the warming oven,’ she had explained to Bella, who was staying for her usual school-holiday break. ‘This poor little mite got a bit cold as his mother died. I’ll warm him up then we’ll see if he wants some tea.’ She had pointed to the hotplate on the stove where a teat-topped sauce bottle full of milk peeped from an old boiler filled with warm water. Bella smiled to herself as she remembered those days.

  If she listened closely enough, above the roar of the city traffic she could hear the music of Tindarra’s babbling mountain stream, on its winding journey to the lower country of Narree; could visualise the peacefulness of the rolling hills with their towering trees.

  Lying in her penthouse home set beside the dirty Yarra River dreaming of a mountain valley hundreds of kilometres away, Bella made her decision.

  The only problem was the other inhabitant of Tindarra, and she didn’t mean old Wes. She needed a clean break from all the complications in her life – and that included Will O’Hara. Memories of him naked and making love to her on Hugh’s Plain danced before her eyes: those tanned bicep muscles holding his body inches above hers, his head thrown back, those molasses eyes crinkled in ecstasy; her own unrestrained responses to a body and hands that just seemed to know how to please her, how to love her.

  ‘You’re still good in the sack, cowgirl.’

  Overwhelming shame at his words.

  He’d just have to stay out of her way. The mountains were big enough for the two of them. H
is property might be next door to Maggie’s, but it was pretty damned big, and even though they would be in the same valley, it didn’t mean she had to see him.

  Bella sat up in bed, took the remote control from the holder above her head and depressed the switch for the aircon.

  Rummpfff.

  The machine rumbled as it clicked off.

  She got out of bed, ran into the sitting room and dragged her red minky blanket from the couch. Back in the bedroom, she wrapped herself into the blanket’s cuddly warmth and set about planning how to move home.

  Three and a half weeks later she was ready to go. She’d resigned from her job, leaving a boss unhappy to see her go but moving right along to start a new girl next week. There were no flies on him, she thought wryly. Another difference of city versus country. Easy come, easy go.

  She still hadn’t told Warren she was leaving town. She’d barely seen him long enough to say hello. Any conversation they had inevitably revolved around the takeover bid. Lovemaking in the early hours of the morning, if and when he made it home to bed, was unsatisfying. He rolled off and was asleep in minutes, leaving her to stare at the ceiling, frustrated and alone.

  She reproached herself again and again for not telling him she was going.

  Procrastinator, mocked Patty, playing around in her head.

  ‘Yeah, well you deal with him then!’ she mentally lobbed back. ‘He’ll pout and sulk and probably yell a bit while he goes on and on about how I’m making his life difficult.’

  Well, what the fuck are you doing with the self-absorbed prick, Hells Bells? came the reply.

  ‘He’s not a prick. And he loves me.’

  Yes, but do you love him?

  In the end she left him a note.

  Dearest Warren,

  I am so sorry to tell you in this way, but we never get a chance to sit down and really talk. I’m leaving. I need time to sort out what I want to do with my life. You have been so good for me these past years but it’s not enough. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I need the time and space to find it. I’m so sorry.

  I’ve resigned from my job, and where I’m going doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to wait for me and so have left the ring in your dressing-table drawer. Forgive me, Warren. I just can’t keep doing this, living your life and your dreams. I need to find my own.

  Bella

  Her father picked her up at the Narree station mid-afternoon. He gave her a big hug and grabbed a trolley to load the luggage she’d booked into the guard’s van at Melbourne’s Flinders Street Station. She helped him lift cases and numerous packages into the back of the old HiLux ute, all the while trying to stop herself crying at the mess her life was in.

  Getting into the passenger side, she clipped on her seatbelt and waited for her father to do the same. He clambered in beside her and then reached down into his old workpants to pull out a huge brown-and-white striped men’s hanky, dropping it into her lap. ‘Thought you might need this.’

  In the privacy of the ute, Bella finally allowed the tears to pour down her face. ‘Thanks, Dad. It’s been a bit difficult. Leaving Warren and . . . well, everything.’

  ‘I know, love, I know. Just hope I’ve not put you where you don’t want to be?’ Frank frowned as he looked at his daughter’s reddened, tired eyes and tear-soaked cheeks.

  ‘No, Dad. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t where I needed to be.’

  Frank patted her hands, noting the missing diamond ring. He then cranked the ignition and slowly selected first gear.

  ‘That’s good, Hells Bells. You had me worried. For what it’s worth, I think you’ve done the right thing. A time up at Maggie’s in those hills will do you the world of good.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.’ At least I bloody well hope so, Bella silently added.

  ‘I’ve pulled your old ute out of the shed, had it checked over, given it a wash. It’s all good to go.’

  So she was back to driving a ute.

  A voice in her head started singing out of tune. She’ll be comin’ round the mountain when she comes . . . she’ll be comin’ round the mountain when she comes . . . Yee ha!

  Chapter 31

  The shadows flung by roadside gum trees were long. The interior of the ute flickered alternately light and dark as the vehicle made its way through the gentle rolling hills of the Burrindal Valley. Bella clutched her left hand to the back of her neck, massaging the stiffness that had gathered at its base. Lately, all she seemed to be doing was driving. She had got out of the habit, living in the heart of the city with public transport at her door. Her right hand gently steered the ute around another bend and she spied the turn-off a hundred metres up ahead.

  Burrindal’s former school stood sentinel on the far corner of the intersection abutting the main road. Some arty type had bought the land from the education department years ago and gone about remodelling and constructing a building that looked like it was straight from a fairytale. The three-storey rectangular structure, complete with two high turreted windows peering down from the top, lurched into the air and stayed there seemingly in defiance of gravity. Patty had often joked that the brightly painted building only needed a rounded toe piece and a chimney pot to make ‘The Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe’ come to life right in the mountains of East Gippsland.

  Bella sighed as she flicked on her left indicator and slowly swung her ute past the fairytale house. So many memories just waiting to jump out and eat her up.

  The gravel road adjoining the tar disappeared around a sharp bend after a few hundred metres. The last twenty-five kilometres to Aunty Maggie’s property at Tindarra, an hour and a half drive from Narree, were the most dangerous of the trip. It was lucky it wasn’t dusk – tucker and water time for the creatures of the Australian bush. Even now she could see a wallaby bounding across the gravel right on the bend. She eased the accelerator to a comfortable speed and settled once again into her lamb’s wool seat cover to enjoy the beauty and peace of the final part of her journey. Driving her old Holden ute, which her father had kept parked in the machinery shed all these years, was exhilarating – taking her back to the wild years of her youth, making her feel young and free again.

  It had been a very long time since she’d ventured Tindarra way. It used to be a well-beaten track for her and Patty in years gone by. Patty’s parents’ property circumnavigated her Aunty Maggie’s four hundred acres. Spending all her school holidays up in the high country of Tindarra, her childhood had been idyllic, full of work and fun, helping Maggie on her farm. And Patty and Bella, in particular, reaped the benefits working on both the O’Haras’ place and Aunty Maggie’s next door.

  Wonderful summers riding horses and motorbikes, swimming in the river and playing make-believe games around the sheds. Long days mustering and moving stock, helping to ensure paddocks weren’t overgrazed. As a kid it had all been such fun, with no adult worries like drought and low commodity prices to cloud the days. Or sorrow and grief to prey on the mind.

  The chiming of a mobile phone interrupted Bella’s thoughts. Slowing the ute to a crawl, she scrambled for the phone her father had given her before she left Merinda.

  ‘Better take this, me girl,’ he’d said as he shoved it through the open window of her ute. ‘That digital citified thing of yours won’t work in the hills. This one here is a new-fangled country phone.’ He read from the label. ‘Certified to work in all country areas.’ He snorted in disgust. ‘That’ll be the day! There’s a trick to getting it out of its holder, but you’ll be right.’

  Bella had taken the phone, knowing it was useless to argue. When her father had that look on his face, he meant to get his way. It was a look Bella hadn’t seen in her own mirror for a while. And she did feel better on those remote and lonely roads in the hills knowing she had some method of communication should anything go wrong. And – something she hadn’t told her father – she’d thrown her ‘digital citified thing’ into the bush somewhere around Pakenham a few days ago!

>   Now she knew what her father meant about the bloody holder. Placed face-in to the hip holster, the phone stopped ringing as she scrabbled to pull it loose. Finally finding the magic button on the enclosing plastic, she extracted the phone with a curse.

  The ute ground to a halt just as the ringing started again. Bella was ready this time. ‘Hello!’ she snapped.

  ‘Bella, darling heart, is that you?’ Without stopping for an answer, the honeyed tones of Caro Handley, now Eggleton, oozed across the mobile airwaves. Marriage was obviously good for her. ‘Thank goodness I got you. Listen, my love, can you do us a favour?’

  Bella managed to squeeze in a yes before the honey started dripping again.

  ‘Darling, I really need you to pick up . . .’ the voice trailed off. ‘What’s that, Trin?’ Bella could hear Trinity’s voice in the background, followed by Caro’s voice back in Bella’s ear, interrupted by static as she spoke. ‘Yes I’m getting to that, darling. Bella, sweetheart, Trin needs you to pick up a parcel from Janey at the post office. He’s going across to . . . to a cattle . . . and can’t . . . down there himself. It has to be picked up tomorrow so . . . release . . . straight away. What’s . . . Trin?’

  ‘Caro, I can’t hear you. Say again?’ said Bella.

  The conversation came back on line but wasn’t directed at her. ‘But Trinity, I can’t!’ Caro sounded incredulous. ‘I’ll do most things on this farm of yours but not that!’ Trin’s calm voice could be heard again, followed by Caro. ‘Well, okay, if they have to be released as soon as they get here, I’ll just have to ask her to do it. Darling?’ Caro was back to Bella in the ute. ‘You haven’t had your nails manicured or anything, have you?’

  Bella looked down at her short, straight nails with half-moon cuticles a manicurist had never touched. ‘No, Caro, was I supposed to?’ she asked with a grin.

  ‘No, darling, you’re fine just the way you are. Would you mind driving the parcel up to Ben Bullen tomorrow? We’d just love to see you, and do you think you could release Trin’s dung beetles into their piles of cow poo for me? I just can’t stick my hands into gooey, slimy cow shit on purpose! I’ll do most things, but not that.’