Rearing back, Will clamped down hard on the hand. ‘Years ago I might have fallen for that.’
Prue went on as if she hadn’t heard him. ‘I never really wanted a baby anyhow. Not now. It doesn’t suit my lifestyle. But Leyton insisted and I thought, well, surely one little dabble into motherhood wouldn’t affect my life too much. But . . .’ Prue looked down at her rounded belly in disgust. ‘It has and it will when the little brat arrives.’
She turned to look up at him and for a moment Will thought he saw vulnerability flicker across her face. And terror. It was in that instant he actually felt pity for his ex-wife; he saw clearly that she was unable to love anything more than she loved herself.
‘I’ve realised I was wrong to leave you. I just want to come home. To you, to the farm, to Tindarra.’
‘And what about Fowler?’
‘Oh him!’ Prue flicked her free hand negligently. ‘Don’t worry about him. I’ll let Leyton have the baby . . . whatever . . . I just want to come back . . .’ There was a pause before she added with a doe-like look in her pale eyes, ‘to you.’
Will had seen that look on her beautiful face before. When she wanted more Paspaley pearls and he needed a new tractor. When she wanted that bloody Chesterfield lounge and all the other flash furniture and he needed a new hard hose for the irrigator. He’d ended up borrowing Wes’s tractor, and patched the old hose. And she still hadn’t been satisfied. It was then he knew that whatever he did would never be good enough.
His eyes centred on the fireplace; anywhere but Prue. He was saddened by the way their relationship ended, but the feelings of revulsion he felt for her were strong. Leaving him for that bloody horse-breeder who obviously wasn’t quite as flash or rich as she thought; wanting to come back to him after she’d already taken him for half of the farm, every spare cent he had; prepared to abandon a defenceless baby, just because it suited her – he was so disgusted he nearly missed her last words, ‘. . . in return, you can fuck whoever you like. Just don’t do it under my roof.’
Nala started a low-pitched growl, directed towards Prue. His ex-wife lifted her head slightly and seemed to smile at her own reflection in the window. She obviously thought she’d won him over.
He stood up. He felt nothing as he watched Prue reel back and scramble to get to her feet, grossly inelegant – all limbs and baby. The gloves were off. He was sick to death of her manipulations. How had he been so blinded by her beauty and honeyed words all those years ago?
‘Get out. Now!’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, William. I said you could fuck whoever you wanted. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for Bella Vermaelon again?’
‘Maybe I have . . . but it sure as hell means nothing to you.’
Prue’s face turned nasty. Lips pursed again, brow scrunched, eyes squinting. ‘I am your wife!’
‘Ex-wife. Get out, Prue . . . and don’t come back anytime soon.’ Will manoeuvred her firmly through the lounge door.
Prue baulked near the table. ‘But Bella’s having someone else’s baby too!’
‘Yes, but at least she loves and wants that baby. She’s prepared to be a mother – on her own, mind you.’ Will grabbed her arm in a firm clasp, pulled her across the kitchen, out the back door, down the path and all but lifted her into the Range Rover. He leaned in and checked the gear stick was in neutral and then turned the key. The diesel engine roared to life again.
‘Now get out of here . . . And for fuck’s sake shut the gate as you leave.’
Man and dog walked back into the house.
At the kitchen table, he glanced out through the window. The light twinkling at Maggie’s was gone. Will pulled out a chair and sat down, put his head in his hands as Nala nuzzled up to his knee whimpering. Together they waited. It was a few minutes before he heard the Range Rover drive away. It paused down near the gate. She was shutting it. In the years they were together she’d never done that, not once. Then the sounds of the engine were absorbed into the bush night.
Chapter 43
Bella didn’t answer the door the next morning; instead she hid deep within the bed covers, a doona over her head. Will had nearly thumped the door down, but she kept it locked.
She screened telephone calls, the exasperation evident in Will’s voice by call number three. She didn’t step outside all day.
Unfortunately, when only three people live in a valley they can’t avoid each other for long, so it was with dread that Bella heard a set of boots clump up the steps to the screen door in the late afternoon. Steeling herself, she answered, still in her pyjamas. It was Wes.
‘Mmmuph! You look terrible, girl.’
‘Thanks, Wes.’ Bella’s voice was wry. ‘If I want your opinion I’ll ask for it. Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘Looks like I’d better.’
Bella moved back to let him in and shuffled towards the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove. She turned back and found Wes right behind her.
‘What’s up?’
‘What makes you think anything’s wrong?’
Wes held up a wizened hand. ‘To start with, you’re in your pyjamas and it’s four o’clock,’ he said, ticking off one finger. ‘Number two, you look like shit.’ Another finger went down. ‘Number three, you haven’t been outside today ’cause Turbo’s crying on his chain and those calves are bellowing for hay. Number four, you’ve been crying flat-out ’cause your eyes are red slits. And number five . . .’ Wes paused for effect, a thumb still in the air, ‘I saw Prowsy’s green Range Rover leave Will’s late last night heading for Burrindal.’
Bella managed to hold it together for a few seconds more, until the compassionate look on the old man’s face became her undoing. She collapsed onto a chair and started to cry all over again.
Wes stood by helplessly and watched as Bella slowly ran out of tears. He pulled a ragged and stained hanky from his pants pocket and offered it to her. She took it and blew her nose, thankfully without looking at the state of it.
‘You still in love with that boy?’
‘No. Maybe. Yes. Perhaps. I don’t bloody well know!’ Bella blew her nose again. ‘Doesn’t matter now anyway.’
‘Mightn’t be what you think, girl.’
‘I know what I saw, Wes.’
What to say? Wes had no idea what Prowsy was doing at Will’s that late. But it sure didn’t sound good for Bella. Wes chewed the insides of his cheek, thinking. He didn’t want to see Bella hurt again. Maggie would kill both Will and him if that happened. Hell, where was that cranky bloody woman when he needed her? Sailing the blasted seven seas. He kinda wished he’d gone with her. Maggie sure wasn’t gunna be happy over this little hiccup. Just when things looked like they were coming together.
Bella slowly shook her head and gave a long sigh. ‘Wes, if you don’t mind, I might just go back to bed. I’m not feeling so crash hot.’
Wes slowly got to his feet. He hadn’t felt like a cuppa anyway. He reckoned he deserved beer o’clock early today. He had some whip-making and serious thinking to do. ‘You take care then, hey.’
‘Yeah, Wes. I’ll be fine. Give me a night’s sleep, and I’ll be as right as rain.’ Bella tried to smile, and failed miserably.
‘Righto then. I’ll call in again tomorrow.’ Wes moved out to the verandah and pulled on his boots.
‘And Wes?’ Bella called through the screen door.
‘Yep?’
‘Tell Will O’Hara he’s a dirty, double-crossing two-timer and I never want to see his ugly mug ever again.’
‘Is that so?’ A new deep voice came from up along the side verandah. ‘And tell me, just how do you come to that conclusion?’
Bella watched as Wes scrambled down the stairs and to his ute as fast as his old legs would let him. She then turned to face Will, who by this time was leaning against the verandah pole, arms folded, taking in her general state of disarray.
‘Just why am I a dirty, double-crossing two-timer? And why aren’t you answering my calls?’
> ‘Fuck off, O’Hara. Go back to your darling wife.’
‘Ex-wife.’
‘Whatever. Just get out of my life. Now.’ Bella slammed and locked the sliding door.
It took a good ten minutes before he gave up hammering on the walls, the door, the windows, yelling at her that she’d misunderstood. He begged her to open up and at least talk about it. She missed the rest as she crawled under the doona again, hands over her ears. Finally all was quiet. She peeked out from her cocoon and heard nothing but silence.
By the next morning, Bella had semi pulled it together. She locked herself away in the house again for the morning and then spent the afternoon down by the river – anything to avoid Will. She saw his ute come by a few times; each time he paused at the gate, then drove on. Her answering machine was off and there were ten missed calls on her mobile. Then, her phones finally stopped ringing.
Good, she told herself.
So why did she feel so wretched? Why did she feel like her life had just ended? The baby kicked and then seemed to do an enormous flip, causing her to momentarily lose her balance. Okay, okay, she reconsidered, maybe her life hadn’t ended. She clutched at her belly and smoothed her hands across the surface, soothing strokes both for herself and the baby. Fucking Prowsy.
He wasn’t fucking Prowsy. Hells Bells, sometimes there’s more than one explanation.
Yeah? responded Bella in her head. Well, it looked pretty self-explanatory to me. Bugger off, O’Hara.
And Bella closed her mind, her heart. It was time to shut the door on love, trust, companionship, Will . . . forever. She would concentrate on her baby. Her baby. As soon as her parents and Aunty Maggie came home, she would be out of here and back to Merinda.
Wes called in four days later, on his way past after a trip to town.
‘Here’s ya mail. A postcard from the travellers in there. Looks like they’re in bloody Spain. Haven’t ya told your folks about the baby?’
‘No. I didn’t want them to worry. And, before you ask, I’ve sworn Justin and Melanie to secrecy too.’
‘They won’t be happy ’bout that.’
‘They’ll get over it. And don’t you tell them either, Wes, or I’ll let Trin know about that stash of beer you’ve put down near the river.’
‘Hmph.’ Wes cleared his thick throat. ‘Prowsy’s gone home.’
‘I don’t want to hear about the O’Haras either, Wes.’ Bella was curled up on the ground trying to paint an old cradle she’d found at the op shop. It was in good nick and she was mighty proud of it.
‘I mean, home to that cake place she lives at.’
‘Scone?’
‘Yeah, cream puff . . . sponge . . . scone? Somewhere like that.’
‘Hmph.’ It was Bella’s turn to grunt as she found a spot she’d missed with the paintbrush.
‘Word at the pub is Leyton Fowler’s not what Prowsy thought he was. Tom Lukey’s brother’s wife comes from that cake place where they live and they’re saying Fowler’s up to his ears in debt. And he’s been using Prowsy’s money to buy his way out of trouble.’ There was no response. Wes tried again. ‘Called in to see Will on the way home and he says Prowsy was out here ’cause she wanted to come back to him. Abandon that baby she’s having and be Mrs O’Hara again.’
It was a long bit of gossip for Wes to share, but he felt he owed it to Maggie, to try to sort these two numbskulls out. ‘Will shoved her out the door.’
‘She was lying in his lap, Wes.’
That shut Wes up. Will hadn’t told him that! Damn the man. Surely not? Wes tried again, ‘Well, Will says nothing happened, he sent Prowsy packing and for what it’s worth I believe him. Will’s not a liar. But ya know what a filthy little manipulator she is. Maybe she saw ya, or something. Will said Nala was barking.’
Bella rocked back on her heels and finally looked up at the old man. Memories of Prowsy’s smile towards the window . . .
‘Will’s tellin’ the truth, Hells Bells. He’s been desperately trying to get hold of you to explain. He’s real cut up about ya and you need to know it.’
‘I don’t know, Wes.’
‘You know, my girl, you’re as stubborn and pig-headed as ya bloody aunt.’ He gave a gentle smile to soften the words and touched her tentatively on the shoulder. ‘Just think about it, hey?’ Wes started to amble off. He’d done the best he could. Maggie be damned, it was up to the two kids now. A blast of cold wind hit his face, making him look up to the sky. ‘Better batten down the hatches too. See those clouds building out to the north-west?’ He flung a gnarled hand towards the mountains. ‘There’s some bad weather coming in pretty fast. Ya can smell it. Tomorrow’s gunna be a rough one, that’s for sure.’
He was right. The next day was wild. Storms blew in across the ranges. Rain and sometimes hail battered the verandahs. The wind howled at the windows, making eerie whistles as it caught and sucked its way along the eaves and under the house.
Bella ran outside mid-morning, braving the driving hail, to bring a whimpering Turbo into the warmth and safety of the lounge room. She whiled away the afternoon curled up in front of the roaring fire, reading and sleeping. And thinking.
Stubborn and pig-headed, Wes had said. The old man never wasted words he didn’t mean. Deep down she knew he was right. She thought back to the conversation she had with Will the night they watched satellites track across the night sky. She’d realised then she should have heard him out in Melbourne all those years ago when he wanted to bring her home. And then there was that time on Hugh’s Plain – now she’d come to know Will again, she realised that his comment that had got her all fired up that day was said in jest; it was not meant to demean her. And she’d run away without giving him a chance to fix it. And she had just done the same thing to him over Prowsy. She was like Will after Patty died – but he’d only run once whereas she’d kept on doing it. What an idiot she was. What a pig-headed idiot.
Some time later, Bella was draping some baby clothes Shelley had given her, over a clotheshorse to dry in front of the roaring fire. Turbo was running around in circles at her feet whining to be let out for a toilet stop.
‘Okay, okay. I get the message,’ Bella muttered to the dog, as she moved towards the door. She laughed as Turbo nearly ran head-first into the glass in his haste to get outside.
Bella walked back to the clotheshorse. Reached to straighten a jumper hanging a little awry. A sudden whoosh of water made her look down. She fought back panic. Oh hell!
Will was worried about Bella. She might be a stubborn fool of a girl who wouldn’t listen to a thing he tried to say, but she was still pregnant and this storm was pretty bad. Then again, she obviously wanted nothing more to with him. He thumped around his kitchen and then sat roughly on his couch as he thought about going to check on her.
He was on his feet and moving out into the night before he even knew he’d made up his mind.
The rain was teeming down; huge droplets bounced at least a foot back into the air after they hit the dirt. The ground around Maggie’s house had turned to a quagmire.
Will stepped onto the old verandah, dodging the gushing water streaming from the holey, rusted guttering that was weaving wildly in the wind. Thunder rumbled and spat from overhead, with only seconds between the crashes and the flashes of light splitting the sky from end to end.
Will could barely hear his own laboured breathing amid all the noise. He grabbed the handle of the sliding door and wrenched it open. He was going in whether she wanted him there or not.
Bella was draped frontwards over Maggie’s old leather recliner. A beanbag was jammed between her heavy belly and the seat back. She was groaning; guttural moans coming from deep within her as she laboured over the chair.
‘Bella! Bella! Are you all right?’
She didn’t answer – couldn’t even look up – as she was gripped by an almighty contraction that had her fighting for breath.
Will felt panic crash in from all sides, as his thoughts collided. She w
as in labour. There was a wild storm raging outside. The road to Burrindal was cut off by fallen trees – he knew because he’d tried to drive it earlier in the evening.
He saw Bella groan into the beanbag again, her whole body straining. The pain looked excruciating. He needed to do something, fast.
He used his satellite phone to ring for the emergency helicopter, only to be told the storm had moved through the whole of East Gippsland, causing accidents and mayhem. The choppers were flat-out keeping up with the demand. Even the police helicopter was way out to sea helping a yacht in trouble.
‘How close is she?’ asked the operator.
‘How the fuck do I know?’ shouted Will in frustration. ‘I’m not a flamin’ doctor. From what I know of cows, I’d say she’s got a little way to go.’
‘Well, just keep in contact with us and we’ll get someone there as soon as we can.’
Bella had moved further to the ground, trying to get comfortable. Lying face-down on the beanbag balanced over a broad wooden coffee table, she writhed and moaned. Will could see it was taking its toll on her.
Bella, for her part, had tuned her out from her surroundings. She knew Will was there. Was pleased he was there – for her. She realised now she’d made a terrible mistake. Prowsy was more than capable of twisting a situation to suit her own ends. Wes was right: it was a matter of trust, and when it came down to it, a matter of love. And love and trust Will, she did. There was no doubt about that. No one was perfect, least of all her.
Taking a torch off the mantle, Will walked into the old hallway, floorboards creaking as they took the pressure of his weight. He headed towards the old black phone table on the far wall, slid a rickety drawer out from below the tabletop and rummaged around until he finally found what he was looking for.
Bella's Run Page 30