Lucifer's Brand

by Nicola West

'Yes, it's all right now,' he said, smiling at her. 'You're here and you've got your job—it's a good job, Flair, and Luke's a fine man. I've got a lot of reason to be grateful to him. It's meant a lot to me to see you getting on so well.'

  'I'm glad,' she said weakly, and knew that it was impossible to tell Jeff now that she wasn't working for Luke any more. Not so soon, anyway. Maybe later, when she had had time to look around— maybe then she could find something else, tell Jeff that she wanted to widen her experience. There had to be some way out—but she knew that she couldn't take it now. Not until Jeff had got used to having a daughter again. Not until the talk of the merger was less uncertain.

  They sat for a long time, talking of Flair's childhood and of their lives since Jeff had come to Australia, and when they finally decided it was time for a meal Flair felt that she knew her father better than she had ever done before. Better even than she knew her mother, she reflected as she dressed for their meal out, Jeff having decided that this evening was to be a special one. Susan had always been cool in her attitude to personal relationships—maybe that was why the marriage had broken up with so little acrimony. It had never meant all that much to her to begin with. And even towards Flair, her mother had always maintained a reserve it was impossible to penetrate. It wasn't done deliberately—Flair had long realised that—it was just her nature. She was an exceptionally private kind of person, and liked to keep it that way.

  Whereas Jeff was slowly revealing a warmth, of nature that surprised his daughter. She wondered just what her parents' marriage had been like in its private moments. Had Jeff been a passionate man, an ardent lover? And she herself—whom did she take after? Susan, with her cool reserve—or Jeff, with what she was beginning to realise was a deeply loving personality?

  Luke's face came into her mind and she recalled those moments only this morning when they had lain together in the bed and desire had surged within her, almost impossible to control. Heat flooded her body at the memory. She had never felt that reaction to any man before, had thought herself as cool as her mother and been thankful for it. Now she wished that she had never discovered the truth about herself—the truth that she loved Luke, deeply and irrevocably, that she yearned for his touch, his kiss, his caress. And that she had to repress her yearning; never let him or anyone else know of it. Had to carry it with her, unfulfilled, for ever.

  Jeff took her to a restaurant on the edge of King's Park for dinner. They sat in a wide window, gazing out over Perth at the darkness aglow with the coloured lights of the city, split by the black sweep of the Swan river with the streak of the Narrows Bridge just below them. Beyond the town rose the darker humps of the Darling Ranges, and Flair could see the lights of an aircraft approaching the airport. It was only a short time since she herself had been circling up there, gazing down with excitement and anticipation at these very same lights. It seemed half a lifetime ago.

  The meal was delicious. Somehow Flair had forgotten lunch, and she now found herself ravenously hungry. Studying the extensive menu, she finally decided on watermelon, followed by dhufish which was accompanied by a piquant fruit salad, and finished with that most Australian of desserts, pavlova—an unbelievably high concoction of pink meringue filled with strawberries and cream. Satisfied at last, she laid down her spoon and smiled at her father.

  'That was superb,' she thanked him. 'And it's such a marvellous place. Thank you for bringing me.'

  'It's a delight to be able to,' he told her sincerely. 'Now, what about some coffee and a liqueur to round it off? And then --' His eyes, glancing over Flair's shoulder towards the door, widened with some surprise. 'Well, look who's here!'

  She didn't need to ask. It could be only one person—the man who was never completely out of her thoughts, who filled her mind more than she liked. The man who had in a few short weeks turned upside down her ambitions, her principles, her whole attitude to life, leaving her gasping like a fish on shore.

  Slowly, reluctantly, she turned her head and watched with a resigned apathy as Luke entered the restaurant. He looked suavely handsome tonight, she registered, in his dark brown suit that set off the burning gold of his hair and tanned face. Gold cufflinks flashed from his strong wrists and the broad band of his Rolex wristwatch gleamed. Everything about him spelt success—including the woman who stood with him as they waited to be led to their table.

  And, of course, that had to be Roxanne, looking more beautiful than ever in a gold sheath of a dress that accentuated every line of her sumptuous figure. The dark hair swirled around her shoulders and sultry brown eyes smouldered between long thick lashes. Her dress was cut daringly low at the front; at the back it dipped almost to waist level.

  Jeff was smiling, raising his hand to attract attention. If it had been left to Flair she would have made no sign, merely hoped that Luke's table was out of sight of their own; after the events of the morning, she would have liked never to have to face Luke again. But she summoned up a smile as her employer caught sight of them and drew Roxanne after him across the restaurant.

  'So you made it back all right,' he greeted Flair casually. 'Hi, Jeff, how's it going?'

  'Good,' Jeff answered in the Australian idiom. 'Evening, Miss Ryan. How did you like Blue Island?'

  'Oh, just beautiful,' the American girl exclaimed. 'Especially the bathing beaches,' she added with a sideways glance at Flair. 'Luke and I spent the whole afternoon on one, a real gem. It was great, wasn't it, honey? We just didn't know how to tear ourselves away.'

  'Still, you managed it,' Flair commented. 'And I'm sure you must have been a great help to Luke.'

  'She was indeed,' Luke agreed dryly. 'Gave me a good idea of some of the ways my guests will enjoy themselves.'

  Flair felt her cheeks flame, and bent her head. She stirred her coffee and began to sip it, trying not to listen to the conversation that was going on around her.

  '. . . have a long talk with you some time,' Jeff was saying, and she glanced up, aware of a serious note in his voice. So he was worrying about the merger. Luke was looking thoughtful.

  'Mmm. Have to be tomorrow, then, if it's urgent. I want to head down towards Albany the day after.' His eyes turned to Flair and she steeled herself to meet their compelling blue without betraying her feelings. 'Hope you haven't unpacked too much— it'll be another early start, I'm afraid. We'll have to get through as much as we can in the office tomorrow.'

  Flair nodded. Misery lay in her stomach like a lead weight. He didn't even know she cared! Well, it was the way she wanted it—but oh, to see some answering light in those cold blue eyes. And they were going on another trip together, another series of days and nights, in close contact yet without any real communication between them. If only she could hand him her notice—but a glance at her father, an understanding of the pride and delight he was taking in this meeting, told her she couldn't. She had to go through with it.

  Roxanne, too, was looking peeved. She pouted and fluttered her lashes at Luke as she said: 'But honey, you've only just come back. You're as bad as Pop—you hotel men are always the same, always busy.''

  Luke smiled down at her. 'It's the way we make our living, Roxy. And you must admit you like that. Anyway, our table's ready now. We'll say cheerio, then,' he added to Jeff. 'I'll make time for that talk.' And, with a curt nod to Flair, 'Be as early as you can in the office tomorrow, will you? There's a hell of a lot of work to get through.'

  Through a mist of tears, Flair watched , them walk away to their table. This was the way it was going to be—always, she told herself. She was just going to have to start getting used to it.

  She was at the hotel early next morning and hard at work when Luke arrived. He said little to her, beyond what was necessary, and after asking whether her father would still be at home, went out again. He did not return until after lunch.

  Flair wanted to ask what he and Jeff had discussed, but knew Luke wouldn't tell her. No doubt Jeff would that evening, but she found it hard to wait, wondering uneasily whether L
uke's stern face and tight lips had anything to do with it. Whatever the subject had been, it didn't seem to have pleased him.

  But when she reached home, Jeff wasn't there. He'd left a note saying he'd had to go off urgently on another job and wouldn't be back until late. As she had an early start to make next day, better not wait up for him. He'd see her when she got back.

  So Flair had to go to bed still wondering; and the questions were still unanswered in her mind as she rose next morning, ate her breakfast and was ready for Luke when he called for her in the grey light of early morning.

  Neither of them spoke much during the early part of the drive. Once out of Perth the road was straight and long. Flair sat quietly in the car, looking out at the beauty of the bush; the flowers that carpeted the ground and climbed and sprawled over many of the shrubs and trees; the brilliant colours of parrots and other birds flying across in front of the car. When they stopped for a flask of coffee, she could hear their strident calls and whistles; a few miles on, when they came suddenly on a family of kangaroos bounding along the road, she gave a cry of excitement, and couldn't repress her laughter as the strange animals panicked, hopping first one way, then the other, the baby 'joey' colliding with its mother in its eagerness to scramble into her pouch. The mother used her front paws to help it in, and Flair choked with giggles as she saw first a hind leg, then an ear poke out as the joey twisted and turned inside the furry pouch.

  'It's almost too big to go in at all,' Luke remarked, just as amused. 'Real vacuum-packing, that is. But it won't survive much longer if mum and dad don't teach it better road drill.'

  'Do many get killed on the roads?' Flair asked, thinking of sheep and ponies in some of the wilder parts of England. Luke nodded.

  'Quite a fair number. People who drive a lot on bush roads have roo-bars fitted to their cars—you must have seen them. Otherwise they'll do a lot of damage. The worst is when the mother gets killed and the joey survives.'

  'Can't they be saved?' Flair asked, and Luke shrugged.

  'Depends if they're found, and who by. People take 'em to the wildlife parks—there's one just out of Perth, and the big one up at Yanchep. I've seen quite little joeys there, all curled up in old woolly pullovers—can't thrive unless they're in a bag, you see—and feeding out of babies' bottles. Of course, in big farming country they're a pest. People shoot them.'

  'Oh no! Such lovely animals,' Flair said in distress.

  'Depends whether they're taking your living away,' Luke told her. 'And there doesn't seem to be much risk of them becoming extinct.'

  They drove on, silent again, but this time the quality of silence was different. The strain had gone out of it. It was almost—companionable, Flair thought, the word surprising her. Would she have thought, only twenty-four hours ago, that she could ever feel companionable with Luke Seager?

  'We're heading down the Leeuwin Way,' Luke said suddenly, breaking the silence. 'Keeps pretty well along the coast—there's some nice places along it. Thought it'd give you a bit more view of Australia.'

  'Thank you,' said Flair, surprised. She had assumed Luke was in a hurry to get to his motel site, too much-of a hurry to bother about showing her any of the beauty spots along the way. She glanced about her with renewed appreciation. 'Whereabouts are we now? And why is it called the Leeuwin Way?'

  He indicated the glove compartment. 'Maps and booklets in there, if you want to follow the route. We're coming into Mandurah now. And Leeuwin comes from a lighthouse at Cape Leeuwin. It was called after a Dutch ship—the one that did the original survey of the area. Means Lioness, or so they told me at school.'

  Flair sat back in her seat, glancing at the maps every so often, but mostly too enthralled with the beautiful country they were passing through. To either side rose tall eucalyptus trees; later, Luke told her, they would be in big tree country, among the karri and: jarrah forests, and farther on among the giant tingle trees, so huge that you could drive an estate wagon, into their hollowed-out trunks. 'And most of them are hollow,' he added. 'Burnt and blackened by centuries of lightning storms and bush fires. But they seem to survive it all.'

  The bush was thickly covered at ground level by the rainbow colours of the wildflowers—like some huge exotic garden gone mad, Flair thought. Among the maps she had found, a booklet describing some of the wildflowers and she flipped through the pages, trying to imprint on her mind the pictures of leschenaultia, as blue as Luke's eyes, kangaroo paw with its strange formation, and the bright yellow cones of the banksia. Other names were more familiar to her and she found it easy to recognise some of the varieties of clematis, myrtles, orchids and hibiscus, but the vast majority of the flowers she saw were strange and she could only gasp at their apparently infinite variety and beauty.

  The journey, interspersed with lunch at the seaside town of Bunbury and a further stop at Busselton, with its mile-long jetty stretching out into the Indian Ocean, was one of the happiest that Flair had ever known. For once—probably because they kept off any personal issues, assuming the roles of visitor and guide—she and Luke were in complete accord. Flair felt her love grow almost tangibly deeper and stronger in this milder climate. Yet Luke, still wearing an air of reserve and aloofness with his friendliness, seemed totally unaware of her feelings. And because of this Flair's happiness had a bittersweet tinge to it. If only things could have' been different, she mused as they strolled along the white beach at Busselton. And she was suddenly shaken by a rush of desire stronger than any she had yet known. Only a tremendous effort of self-control kept her from his arms at that moment. She wanted to fling herself at him, hold him closely, sob out her love but it was useless. He wouldn't understand. He would take what she had to give—oh yes, she thought bitterly, Luke Seager wasn't a man to pass up an opportunity—and then he would pass on, never knowing just what she had given him. Never knowing that he had left her with nothing.

  She couldn't risk it, And, suddenly afraid of the tears that threatened, She turned away and began to walk back to the car.

  Afterwards, the journey was a kaleidoscope to Flair. She recalled Peppermint Bay, Cosy Corner— which was anything but cosy, with the breakers of the Indian Ocean hurling themselves in a spray of white foam against the savage rocks and cliffs— Hamelin Bay and Cape Naturaliste; the broad main street of Margaret River and the signs encouraging visits to the Jewel, Lake and Mammoth Caves— visits, Luke said, that would have to wait for another day. Tonight they were aiming to stay at Augusta and time was running on.

  Flair had been half dreading, half longing for the night. Sitting beside Luke in the car all day, her shoulder occasionally brushing his, sharing with him the experience of the drive south, her instincts had been so aroused that she felt that there was no other course open to her but to give in. Perhaps if she did, she would then be free of him . . . perhaps the brand was washed out when frustration was satisfied. . . . In her heart, she knew it couldn't be true; that once possessed by Luke she would be irreversibly his. But her longing had grown to such a pitch that she almost believed it, almost thought it worth the risk.

  They arrived at last in a small, unpretentious seaside settlement near Augusta and drew up in front of a motel, its buildings clearly in need of a coat of paint. The main building comprised the reception office and a restaurant, and Luke came round and opened Flair's door, indicating that she should accompany him inside.

  Nervous now, and not at all sure of herself, she followed him, finding herself in a shabby but pleasantly-furnished office, with comfortable seats and faded decorations. It was spotlessly clean, but to Flair's eyes there were immediately discrepancies, things that could and should have been put right. She was surprised that the fastidious Luke should consider staying here, and wondered if it might be that he was unlikely to meet anyone he knew.

  But that thought was quickly dismissed as an elderly man came through a door at the back and stared at them. There was a moment's surprised silence, then his nut-brown face split into a wide grin and he came
quickly forward and slapped Luke on the back.

  'Luke, me old mate, it's good to see you! How're you going? My word, it's a long time since you've been down this way. Wait a mo, while I call Lance.' He turned and bellowed into the back regions. 'Hey, Lance, come and look who's here. It's Luke—Luke Seager, doing a bit of slumming!' He glanced at Flair and said mischievously, 'There wouldn't be any— er—ulterior motive for this visit, would there now?'

  'No such thing, you evil-minded old ocker,' Luke said cheerfully. 'We want two rooms for the night— two, you get that? And one of those meals you're so good at knocking up out of nothing, because knowing you there won't be a thing worth eating in the pantry!'

  'Insults, that's all I ever get from this bloke,' the little man told Flair plaintively. 'Nothing but slander and insults. Now, this is me boy, and I tell you this, if you're looking for a man you don't need to look no further. Forget him --' he waved an expressive hand at Luke '—and take a look at this.'

  Flair, smiling, did as she was told. The newcomer gave his father an exasperated half-grin which widened as he saw Luke and greeted him. Then he turned to Flair, and she saw his eyes darken with admiration.

  'Hullo.' He held out his hand and Flair took it, liking the firm handshake he gave her and looking at him with interest. Tall, on the rangy side, with brown curls and a merry face, he would grow very like his gnome-like father as he aged, but just now, only a couple of years older than she was herself, he had an air of easy friendliness that was instantly attractive.

  'Take no notice of Dad,' he said in a pleasant voice. 'He just likes to jabber, Miss --'

  'Flair Pattison,' Luke said quickly. 'And this is Lance Carnagy, and his disreputable old father Dougie. You needn't take any notice of either of them, actually, Lance is only polite for the first half-hour!'

  'Good to know you, Flair,' said Dougie, offering her a horny hand. 'But tell me, what's a nice girl like you doing travelling around with a guy like Luke here?'