Northern Heat

by Helene Young

  ‘Well, you don’t have to come,’ Abby interrupted.

  ‘Oh, yes, she does,’ Conor replied. ‘Something tells me your mum will be spectacular on a boat.’

  Kristy refused to even glance his way.

  ‘Don’t you work?’ Abby asked.

  ‘Not sure if I’m still employed or not right now. Any word on Bill?’

  ‘They’ve placed him in an induced coma,’ Kristy replied. ‘It will give his body the best chance of complete recovery. I won’t be surprised if they transfer him to Brisbane either. He has a lot of healing to do.’

  ‘Who’s Bill?’ Abby asked, slumping back in her seat.

  ‘An elderly patient.’

  ‘He’s not that old, is he?’ Conor asked.

  ‘He’s eighty. Doesn’t look it and doesn’t act it. He’s been planning on retiring for years, but no one’s going to buy the boat and he’s too proud to take the pension. His wife’s cancer treatment took all his savings.’

  ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘Not something he’d admit to.’

  ‘I thought he still had another twenty years left in him.’ Conor looked more upset than she expected. ‘His mantra is, “Pedal to the metal and don’t let up.”’

  ‘Don’t write him off.’

  ‘So what does he have to do with you?’ Abby was miffed at not being part of the conversation.

  ‘I’ve been working with him for the last couple of months.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Fishing. He runs a trawler.’

  ‘But you’re a coach.’

  ‘That doesn’t pay the bills. So I work as a deckhand.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Kristy saw the top of her daughter’s head as she looked down. Not so glamorous now, she thought, a little smugly.

  ‘Good honest work. Keeps me fit and I don’t have to go to the gym.’

  ‘Right.’ Nothing so fickle as a teenage girl. Kristy almost felt sorry for him. Hadn’t she too judged him and dismissed him because he was a deckie? Yet his voice was too educated. And she’d seen the books in his library, listened to the conversation with Mary over dinner that night.

  ‘So what did you do before Bill hired you?’ Kristy asked.

  His hands went still and there was a moment’s pause before he replied.

  ‘This and that. I’ve coached a few teams, done some bookkeeping, gardening, worked around boat yards.’

  ‘What brought you to Cooktown, then?’

  ‘I sailed north for the cruising season, met up with some friends then decided I like the cut of Cooktown’s jib, so here I am. Waiting it out until the end of next winter when I’ll probably sail south again.’

  ‘Sounds idyllic. Every day’s a holiday.’

  ‘Sort of.’

  Kristy snuck another look. In profile he looked austere, almost forbidding. And then he turned and smiled at her and she was forced to look away, to concentrate on the road, the driving, anything except the tightness in her chest and the sadness in those molten eyes. She still had no idea what had brought him here and she should have known better than to ask.

  She changed gears as they reached the low hills.

  ‘So where exactly are we going?’ he asked.

  ‘Sissy’s house is so cool.’ Abby leant forward again, her sulk forgotten. ‘She lives on a cattle station and they even have a swimming pool, not like Grandpa’s, where the swimming hole’s almost dry. And she has horses and there’s a helicopter, but not for mustering.’

  ‘Sounds pretty grand. I didn’t pick her or her mum as farmers.’

  ‘Cattle barons would be more accurate,’ Kristy said. ‘The family owns a huge spread, but I believe they’ve diversified.’

  ‘Sissy asked me to stay over, but Mum said no,’ Abby huffed again.

  ‘They have other friends staying the night. Maybe you can stay another time.’

  ‘You just don’t like her dad.’

  ‘Sissy is welcome at our house any time you want to invite her.’

  A snort from the back seat was the only answer.

  ‘It’s a big call to send your kids off to someone else’s house, Abby, especially when it’s a long way away.’ Conor sounded as though he was about to elaborate, but thought better of it.

  Abby still didn’t look up. The silence extended in the car.

  Conor finally spoke. ‘Are they the only ones who live this far out up this branch of the river?’

  ‘I’m not sure. You’d have to ask Freya.’

  ‘Right. And who’s her husband again? I can’t remember meeting him at training.’

  ‘He doesn’t come to games or training.’

  ‘Jonno doesn’t think Sissy should be playing,’ Abby volunteered, ‘but Sissy’s mum told him it didn’t matter what he thought and then he got really mad. Sissy said her grandmother had to separate them.’

  ‘Really?’ Kristy hadn’t thought that Jonno’s mother might be involved.

  ‘Her grandmother swears more than anyone I know. She even uses the C-word.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I don’t think you’re doing much to reassure your mum that a sleepover is a good idea,’ Conor said, laughter in his voice.

  ‘Oh.’ Abby sat back again. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘So Sienna lives with her mother, her father, her grandmother and her little brother, Buddy. Or does he have a real name?’

  ‘Dunno. He’s always called Buddy.’

  ‘And her grandmother’s name?’

  ‘Evelyn.’

  ‘Don’t you call her Mrs McDonald?’ Kristy asked.

  ‘Nope. She told me to call her Evelyn so I do.’

  ‘So Old McDonald had a farm.’ Conor was definitely smiling now.

  ‘Ha, I hadn’t thought of that,’ Kristy replied, her grip on the wheel easing. He seemed so unmoved by her bolshie daughter.

  ‘It’s not that sort of farm.’ Abby even giggled. ‘It’s huge.’

  ‘So who else will be there?’

  ‘Freya said they’re Jonno’s friends.’

  ‘Other cattle barons?’

  ‘No idea. I’ve never met any of his friends before.’

  ‘They’ll be city friends. They all have loads of money and drive cool cars. Sissy says they’re all arrogant arseholes.’

  Kristy let the swearing go without comment and didn’t try to hide her smile. ‘Jonno’s alpha with a capital A. Guess his friends are going to be the same.’

  ‘Great. I’ve known a few in my time. Nothing like a challenge.’

  As far as Kristy was concerned Conor had alpha stamped in his DNA. He was the pride lion, the silverback. From the minute she’d met him he’d done nothing to dispel that impression. Everything he did was precise, measured and confident. Even sitting in the passenger seat his presence was undeniable. He filled the space, rather than just occupying it. Yet the underlying sadness softened him, shaped him into a man capable of regret, of forgiveness.

  ‘Mum, you missed the turning.’

  ‘Oh shit. Sorry. Another dollar for the swear jar.’ She pulled over, checked her mirrors and did a U-turn.

  ‘We’ll be late now, Mum,’ Abby complained.

  ‘Fashionably late, I think’s the term,’ Conor drawled. ‘Better to make an entrance.’

  The road was graded peachy-red dirt. It must be hell in the wet season, Kristy thought. She’d need a four-wheel drive to get out here if the rains ever came.

  ‘So I hear that cyclone’s heading this way,’ Conor said.

  ‘Depending on which forecast you read.’

  ‘Cool, maybe I’ll miss out on school then,’ Abby piped up.

  ‘There’s a whole lot of hard work putting everything away before it hits,’ Kristy said. Thankfully their yard was bare with only a few large trees on the back fence, nothing close to the house. ‘What about your boat?’

  ‘I’ll sail it up the inlet. Better protection from the tidal surge and the wind.’

  ‘Isn’t there somewher
e safe to tie up?’

  He smiled and shook his head. ‘Not so easy with a draft like mine.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’ Abby asked.

  ‘I need a lot of water depth and the only moorings at the dock will be for commercial fisherman who choose to stay.’

  ‘Here it is, here it is!’ Abby tapped the back of her mother’s seat. The ornate gateway, set back a couple of hundred metres from the road, looked completely out of place among the eucalypts and spindly grass. The driveway was as wide as the road. A large sign hung above it. ‘Glenview Station’ was picked out in silver letters, edged in black on a white background. The font was curly and bold.

  Kristy stopped before the gate. Abby was out before she’d even pulled on the park brake. Hot air filled the car.

  ‘She’s keen.’

  ‘Gates are something of an obsession in my family. Comes from growing up on a property.’

  ‘It’s all foreign territory to me. I was a city kid.’

  ‘Sailing and the outback don’t usually fit together.’ She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the way his eyes lit up when he laughed.

  ‘You didn’t do too badly then, Kristy.’ His expression said he remembered everything about that day and there were no regrets. If only she could say the same. She looked away with her heart hammering and drove through the gate, tyres juddering on the cattle grid. Behind her, Abby swung the gate closed and secured the lock, then bounded after the car. Kristy caught sight of a slight movement to her right. A security camera? Who the hell had one of those out here?

  She didn’t realise she’d spoken until Conor asked, ‘One of what?’

  Abby was already climbing in so Kristy shook her head. He didn’t push. Abby slammed the door and they kept driving another kilometre up the track, where the house came into view.

  ‘And how cool is that?’ Abby announced triumphantly as if the house belonged to her.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Kristy had forgotten how imposing but out of place Glenview’s new homestead was. It perched on a hill where the old timber house had once stood. She’d seen photos in the museum. The community had not been impressed when it was demolished to make room for the new mansion. But then, Kristy doubted anyone complained about the work it generated. And whatever the gossip about the McDonalds, they did pay their bills.

  The house would have been right at home on the set of Gone With the Wind. Dazzling columns graced the wide porch and marble stairs, flanked by two-storey wings. It was pink marble split from the hills to the east of Chillagoe, on the Atherton Tablelands. It blended in with the colour of the local earth, but in every other way it thumbed its nose at the landscape and flexed its brawny arms.

  ‘A McMansion in the middle of nowhere. Who thought that was a good idea?’

  ‘Mrs McDonald.’

  ‘Evelyn,’ Abby corrected.

  Kristy ignored her. ‘When her husband died she moved into the mustering quarters and had this thing built in less than three months, apparently. Money was no object.’

  ‘And good taste was optional.’

  Kristy couldn’t agree more. A row of shiny but dust-coated four-wheel drives were lined up as though they’d been valet-parked. Away to the left the windsock fluttered beside the grass runway. A twin-engined aircraft and the McDonalds’ helicopter shared the parking space. The caterers travelled in style.

  ‘Something smells good. Garlic, onions, hint of rosemary.’ Conor had the window down now and the air-conditioning lost the battle. The eucalypts, which grew in clumps, added their own antiseptic undertone.

  ‘Only the best for Jonno.’ Kristy parked on the end of the row next to a Porsche. ‘Rich friends as well.’

  ‘More style than substance.’ Conor cleared his throat, but he was craning out the window.

  ‘Freya drives a BMW. It’s way cooler than our car.’ Abby opened the door with her parting shot, gathering Sissy’s present from beside her on the seat and running to the front door.

  Conor looked across the car at Kristy. ‘Your girl has expensive taste.’

  ‘Only recently. Up until then she didn’t know any better.’

  ‘We all work out eventually that people are more important than things. I may have been a late starter, but I know now when something’s worth fighting for.’

  She met his frank gaze and couldn’t look away. Her hand froze on the car key and she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, seeing his eyes focus in on it. Every sense was on high alert, every nerve ending tingled. If he leant across the space now she wouldn’t stop him, wouldn’t draw back. She’d been in denial since that crazy day. Each tiny breath she took seemed to roar in her ears. The flecks of gold in his eyes were swallowed as his pupils grew. His skin, taut across high cheekbones, was smooth and supple. She knew it felt like silk under her fingers, her lips.

  ‘Anything’s possible, Kristy,’ he said. ‘If you give it a chance.’

  ‘Kristy, hello?’ Freya’s voice hailed them from the front of the house.

  ‘Better turn the engine off.’ Conor’s voice grated, then he pushed open his door and the moment was gone.

  With her heart still hammering, Kristy joined him at the front of the car. His smile was self-mocking.

  ‘That blue suits you,’ he murmured, and turned away as Freya walked down the slope to greet them. She was dazzling in white and the bracelets on her wrist caught the sunlight as she waved.

  Kristy swallowed, grateful that her blush could be mistaken for heat instead of the warmth of a compliment.

  ‘Thanks for coming.’ Freya hugged her, then turned her cheek to Conor for a kiss. He feathered the lightest of pecks across it and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. The makeup didn’t hide the smudges under her eyes. ‘Now come and keep me sane.’ Her smile was fixed, her lips perfectly outlined in red. Out the corner of her eye, Kristy saw Conor take another look at the back of the Porsche.

  Freya pushed open the front door and ushered them into the air-conditioning. Conor’s hand curled around Kristy’s elbow as she stumbled in the lower light. His touch sent a bright shaft of heat through to her toes and the tip of her head.

  ‘The guys are out at the barbecue,’ Freya said. ‘Even though Chef Gustav won’t let them touch the tongs. Good thing, really. There are at least three tong masters out there. It could get ugly.’ She smiled at Conor. ‘But come and meet Evelyn and the women, then you can decide where you’d rather be.’

  She led them past the stately staircase and through a corridor filled with framed family photos. Delicious smells wafted from behind a swing door, along with laughter and the tinkle of glasses.

  ‘Here they are.’ Freya pushed a door open and the room beyond was filled with light and women. It was a kitchen combined with a large dining area, worthy of a magazine spread. All white and pale wood with chrome handles and silver light fittings and precise table settings and flower arrangements.

  ‘Evelyn, you remember Kristy, Abby’s mum? This is her partner, Conor. He coaches at the club.’

  Clearly Freya was making sure none of the McDonalds got the wrong idea about her own relationship with Conor. Was that causing the almost frenetic glint in Freya’s eyes?

  ‘Of course, I remember Kristy. Welcome to Glenview again. And Conor, you’re most welcome.’ Evelyn had gone to a lot of trouble with her hair and makeup. She looked regal. Even the rough edges to her voice were missing. ‘Please come in, sit. What can Freya get you to drink?’

  ‘A wine for me. Conor?’ Kristy replied, playing along, smiling at him.

  ‘A beer would be great.’

  ‘Done. Come and meet the others,’ Freya said, her shoulders dropping a millimetre.

  Kristy was grateful she’d taken extra care with her own appearance. She didn’t know any of the other women, but she knew designer clothes when she saw them.

  Conor was an instant hit. His warmth and easy charm hid the complexity she knew existed.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Freya came to st
and beside her. ‘I knew you’d understand. Come and see the new garden.’

  ‘Of course.’ She hesitated for a moment, but Conor was engrossed in conversation with Evelyn, looking very much at ease. ‘Where’s the birthday girl?’ Kristy asked, following Freya through another door and outside into the garden.

  ‘She’s dragged Abby off to see her birthday present. It’s a new horse, bigger than her pony.’

  ‘Wow, she must be stoked.’

  ‘She is, but . . .’

  ‘Yeah. Makes it harder.’

  ‘It will. Sometimes I think he knows and does stuff like this because it binds her to him.’

  The two women stood in silence, contemplating the neat rows of seedlings, surrounded by freshly scattered hay. Black lines of irrigation pipe and drip sprinklers peeped through in places. Kristy remembered young Samson, the cattle dog her family had had when she was a child, digging up the irrigation in her mother’s garden as he tried to bite the water from the sprinkler heads. She’d always thought of it as the water snake after that. The rest of the garden was full of lush tropicals and mature native trees. She knew it was Freya’s safe haven.

  ‘And what about you, Frey? Gardens can be hard to leave.’

  Freya turned sharply. ‘Nothing I can’t replace somewhere else. Some place safe.’

  ‘And Buddy?’

  ‘He’s the only reason Jonno will come after me. If it was just Sienna and me, he’d probably send the boys to give us a flogging then let us go. But Buddy? He’s the only grandson, so Evelyn would probably hunt us down as well.’

  ‘Whenever you’re ready, just say the word.’

  ‘There you are,’ Conor spoke from the doorway. ‘I thought I’d better meet your husband, Freya, and I should have my partner by my side.’ His smile was wide as he sauntered to join them. Kristy rolled her eyes.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Freya said, no hint of apology in her expression. ‘His mates from Sydney aren’t my favourite people. I’d worked myself into a mess by the time we got home yesterday and I knew I shouldn’t have given in to Sienna. It was the best I could think of and I knew you’d understand.’ Her dazzling smile would have disarmed the most cynical disbeliever.

  ‘Lead the way. Let’s get this over and done with, hey, Kristy?’ Conor reached for her hand before she could stop him and the connection was immediate. His skin was warm but rough, the sinews and muscles tight and hard. He snugged her up beside him and slipped her hand through his elbow. ‘There we are. Like we’ve been together forever.’ His grin said he was teasing, but there was something else in his eyes, something that looked a lot like regret.