‘Are you serious? It’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘Looks more like a bird or a plane or –’
‘Superman?’ Heath laughed. ‘So, what brings you here?’
‘I’m here to see Ben, actually.’
‘Been doing any more fencing? How’s the hand?’
‘The hand’s fine, thanks. Here’s your mail.’
‘Cheers.’
‘Might give the fencing a rest for a while, though.’ Nina cleared her throat and blinked, gazing up at the hangar roof. ‘That’s amazing.’
‘You like it?’ Heath replied. ‘I thought it would look pretty cool up there. Different.’
‘You made it?’ asked Nina, surprised.
‘Yeah, well, it’s a bit of a hobby, a break from the cattle.’
‘I love it. Do you exhibit your stuff?’
Heath laughed. ‘What? No way. I mean, no. Don’t say that around Ben. Never hear the end of it. So, you and Aunty Moira have been getting stuck into the old place?’
‘Yes. It’s been fun in a weird way. But there are a lot of ghosts about.’
‘So you’re still a ghostbuster then?’
Nina raised her eyebrows.
‘Ghostbusters. Remember? We were obsessed with that old video of Russell’s. Remember those costumes you made us wear? Ben and I would never let on that we were hanging out with a girl.’
Nina smiled, pleased to find his memory so fresh.
He smiled back and for a moment she felt off-balance. God. She stood transfixed. He was devastating, in spite of the scar. Or because of it?
‘Well, I’m off to see that brother of yours and ruin his reputation by hanging out with him. Need to send some emails. Any idea where he is?’ She tried to sound casual.
‘In the office.’ He nodded to a building like a demountable classroom.
‘Great, okay, thanks. Bye then,’ said Nina. ‘Come on, Bach.’ She picked him up again to hide the blush that threatened to climb her neck. Get a grip, she thought as she walked across the yard, wondering if Heath was still looking at her.
Nina passed cages of working dogs, a ute with its bonnet up and a tall man with a shock of orange hair looking into it. He nodded hello. In a small circular yard Matty, wearing his Stetson, exercised a giant chestnut horse. He waved as she passed. She was surprised to see him here. She had thought he worked at Paramour.
In a flourishing veggie patch stood a larger-than-life scarecrow of spun wire, his spindly legs planted in the soil, his arms waving now and again with the movement of the wind. It, too, was striking. Heath’s handiwork again, no doubt. Who would have thought?
Finally, she reached the demountable and knocked. Ben opened the door to a tidy, organised office with a couple of computers and filing cabinets. Deborah was seated in front of one computer, and Ben had spreadsheets open on the other.
‘Oh, hello,’ said Deborah, smiling.
‘Hi.’ Nina returned the smile.
‘Neens!’ Ben said, with a grin. ‘Do you remember? We always used to call you that,’ he said, laughing.
‘Um … yes. I just saw Heath. He told me I was the shameful girl companion in those days.’
‘Take a look.’ Ben handed her a grainy picture of six-year-old Nina in a pair of moleskin jodhpurs and a riding jacket.
‘Ben. Can you show me how to, um … PDP … the invitations after dinner? Matty’s waiting for me,’ said Deborah.
‘PDF,’ Ben said, exasperated. ‘I’ll do it.’ The computer screen was a mess of purple and pink stars. A pair of unicorns with bouffant manes and tails stood poised to leap over a rainbow.
‘Sorry to interrupt. Whose birthday?’ Nina asked Deborah. ‘Is it for a niece of yours?’
Deborah blushed deeply and stared at Nina as if she wished her far away.
‘I would have loved an invitation like that when I was little,’ Nina gabbled, wondering why Deborah didn’t reply. Ben gazed out the window and seemed to be holding his breath.
Deborah rose from her chair. ‘Thanks for your help, Ben,’ she said, but her smile was strained, and she didn’t look at Nina. She tripped over a chair leg on her way to the door and closed it extra-firmly behind her.
‘What was that about?’ asked Nina, puzzled, only to become aware that Ben was convulsed with silent laughter.
‘What?’
‘Hah – you!’ Ben wagged his finger, still unable to speak. ‘Niece … God …’
‘What?’
‘It’s the wedding invitation!’
Wedding? Unicorns? Poor Deborah. No wonder she’d been embarrassed. Nina sat and propped her head in her hands. Way to make friends with the neighbours, she thought.
‘It’s too good. I didn’t have the guts. You go, Neens.’
‘Oh no,’ groaned Nina. Just the same, she couldn’t help smiling. Unicorns just didn’t go with the perfectly dressed Deborah.
‘To be fair,’ said Ben, ‘the unicorns were Hilary’s idea, but Deborah’s too piss-weak to stand up to her.’
‘Hilary’s idea? Huh. I’d have thought she’d be into designer stuff.’
‘There’s no accounting for taste, particularly when Hilary’s involved. And Deborah’s her little yes-girl,’ said Ben.
There was an edge to his tone that made it difficult to reply. Nina looked at him. His mouth was set.
They watched through the window as Deborah crossed the yard to the enclosure where Matty was training the horse. She was immaculate. Her hair was gathered in a smooth ponytail and her shirt tucked neatly into her moleskins – collar upturned – flattered her slim waist. Heath walked over to join her.
They leaned against the rails, dressed so alike they could have been a matching set. Deborah slid her hand into Heath’s back pocket, turned him to face her and kissed him full on the mouth, pressing her body against his. Heath pulled away, and smiled. Deborah tugged his hat brim over his eyes.
‘Looks like they’re made for each other,’ said Nina dryly.
‘You reckon?’ said Ben.
Nina had seen enough. ‘So, where can I log on?’
She turned to the computer screen but she was disturbed by a sudden longing to be close to Heath, to have those eyes focused on her again. It was crazy. She turned back and sneaked a peek as Deborah climbed the rail and jumped into the ring, landing lightly next to the chestnut horse Matty was leading.
‘What a beautiful horse,’ Nina murmured, watching its graceful canter. Its glossy mane had been tightly knotted, and its tail shone like a girl’s hair.
‘Saracen,’ said Ben. There was no mockery in his voice now.
‘Why are they using that long strap?’
‘It’s a lunge rein for warming up the horse before dressage. Matty’s a great trainer. He and I were working together before …’
Nina shot him a glance, but he was absorbed in watching the horse.
Matty saddled Saracen in a few movements and Deborah leapt astride. She sat very straight. First, she did a kind of slow-motion trot in a big circle, then a slow canter, then a sharp diagonal movement across the yard. Saracen didn’t miss a step. Finally, he bent one polished leg and bowed. It was graceful, precise, elegant.
‘You used to –’ started Nina.
‘Not dressage, camp drafting,’ said Ben. He glanced at Nina. ‘It’s basically doing the work we do here on horseback in front of an audience.’
The pair watched as Deborah carried out the whole process again.
‘She’s not the one for Heath,’ said Ben.
Nina looked at him. ‘No way. He’s only marrying her because she stood by us after the accident. Gratitude. It won’t last.’
‘Yes, Moira told me what happened.’ But Nina couldn’t help thinking there was more to it than that. Heath and Deborah were like the McNallys of Gidgee Downs she’d met at the Bowlo with Harrison last week. Couples out here were far more of a team. Heath and Deborah were like that – looking after each other. And Deborah’s horse was being trained on Kurrabar, as if Kurrabar and Paramour
were one property already.
None of her business. She tapped the keyboard, opening her email. More than 100 new messages. But she was too distracted to open them.
‘And Hilary,’ Ben continued, ‘she’s hard work. She wants to put Kurrabar under cotton, citrus, whatever. It’s all about money with her. Not what we’re about.’
Ben picked a book off a shelf behind him and tossed it on the desk.
‘Holistic Management Handbook,’ she read. ‘Healthy Land, Healthy Profits.’
‘New methods,’ Ben said. ‘We want to take care of the land, farm it sustainably by drought-proofing the pasture. You can’t farm cotton that way. Well, you might be able to, but Hilary’s not interested. For her, bigger’s better.’
‘Right,’ said Nina, not sure what he was talking about. She had never heard anyone put sustainability and farming in the same sentence.
‘So, talking about Hilary, I heard something weird the other day,’ said Nina.
‘Weird is Hilary’s normal,’ laughed Ben.
‘She keeps saying that she and Dad were close. And then someone told me about something that might have happened after he went missing. It was –’
The computer gave a low beep as a new message dropped into her inbox. It was from Helen – with three exclamation marks.
‘Wow, you’ve got a lot to catch up on,’ said Ben, looking over her shoulder.
With a sinking heart Nina turned back to the emails and the deadlines that didn’t matter – her real life. There must have been at least 12 messages marked ‘urgent’. Bach rested his head on her foot, a familiar pose for computer work. ‘Oh my god, Ben. This is the worst. I should have done this a week ago,’ said Nina, her shoulders slumping as she clicked on Helen’s email.
‘So what do you actually do again?’ asked Ben.
‘Graphic design,’ said Nina. ‘At least that’s what I was doing.’
‘I thought you must have been a prison warder, judging from your expression.’ He smiled.
Nina had to laugh. ‘Sorry. I’ve let things go a bit in the job department. I guess I’ll face the music next week. I’ve been doing this job too long.’
‘Yeah, when you know how to do something, it’s time to move on,’ said Ben.
‘But I don’t know where to go,’ sighed Nina.
‘Something’s always there, you know, you just need to be able to see it.’ Ben was looking seriously at her.
‘Like pink unicorns.’
Ben laughed. ‘Yeah, like pink unicorns.’
‘I might catch Deborah first and offer to help her with the invitations. No-one should have crap wedding invitations just because their mother’s pushy.’
Ben laughed. ‘Wait for me. I want to see how you wriggle out of this.’
‘Hello again,’ said Nina, stopping at a safe distance from Heath. He leaned against a gate post watching Deborah on Saracen.
Ben wheeled up beside them. The three watched as Saracen cantered and sailed over a double-jump without missing a beat.
‘Wow,’ said Nina. There was no other word for it. The horse and rider seemed as one as they flew through the air.
‘Saracen is coming along really well. Deb’s done wonders with him,’ Heath said proudly.
‘Amazing,’ said Nina. She knew nothing about horses, but she knew perfection when she saw it.
Deborah cantered up to them and swung out of the saddle.
‘Did you see that?’ she asked Heath, unbuckling her helmet. She was breathless, her eyes bright, her face glowing. ‘Saracen was just brilliant. That was so much fun. I was – Oh, Ben. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there.’
‘Of course I’m here. I live here, remember,’ he replied, his voice low.
Nina noticed his fists were clenched.
‘Chill, Ben,’ Heath warned.
‘I’m really sorry, Ben. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,’ Deborah said, her face concerned.
‘It’s fine, Deborah. Just fine. Seriously, do you think I keep forgetting I’m in this thing? That the only way I’m reminded is if I see you prancing around on my horse?’
‘Cut it out, Ben,’ Heath snapped.
‘I’ll meet you back at the stables, Heath,’ said Deborah. Nina noticed tears in her eyes.
‘I’ll be there in a sec,’ said Heath, kissing her lightly as she led the horse away.
‘I should go,’ muttered Nina, embarrassed.
‘Jesus, Ben.’ Heath’s eyes blazed.
‘What?’ said Ben, his mouth obstinate.
‘Can’t you give her a break, just once?’
‘Well why can’t she give me a break?’
‘She is never anything but great to you and you know it. It’s about time you –’
‘Got over it?’ Ben turned his back on Heath.
‘Ben, grow up,’ Heath snapped. ‘Sorry about that, Nina. It’s just … you know.’
‘Sure. No worries.’ This conflict sounded like an old one, she thought.
‘I’m going to give Deb a hand. You going?’ he asked Nina.
‘I’ve got more emails to check first.’
‘Take as long as you like in the office.’ He nodded and strode towards the stables.
On the way to her car Nina rolled her shoulders, which were stiff from computer work. There had actually been seven emails from Helen asking her various questions about clients and page proofs and invoices. The most recent one had been curt: Look Nina – I think we both know you need to decide where you want to be. Let’s talk. Soon.
And there was one from Zac. Nina, don’t worry at all about anything. Footsie people were the best ever and they loved the changes I made to the website. Why didn’t you tell me these people were so fabulous? Off to their launch tonight. Hope you don’t mind but they want me to do next season’s catalogue.
A brief fantasy involving Zac’s hand and a slammed filing-cabinet drawer passed through her mind.
Now, as she passed the stables, she noticed Deborah and Heath. Poor Deborah. Between the unicorns and the altercation with Ben it had been a rough morning for her. She made her way towards them.
‘Hi. Have you finished the work you had to do?’ asked Deborah.
‘Oh, yes. Well as much as I can face. Sorry, I didn’t mean to go barging in earlier while you were working on your own stuff,’ said Nina.
‘No problem,’ said Deborah smiling. She looked calmer. Happier. Of course she was, thought Nina ruefully, she had her hand in Heath’s.
‘If you’d like me to do a few other invitation designs for you I’d be happy to,’ offered Nina. ‘I like that kind of work. Sometimes you don’t really know what you want till you see some options in front of you.’
‘Really? You’d do that?’ asked Deborah.
‘That would be great, Nina,’ said Heath, his eyes full of relief and gratitude. ‘Thanks. I know those bloody things have been driving you up the wall, haven’t they, Deb?’
‘Happy to help,’ said Nina, steadying herself after the intensity of his gaze. ‘I’d better head off now but let me know when you’re free, Deborah, and we can get together.’
Bach, who had been gleefully playing with Princess, came to Nina’s call. As she put him in the car, Heath’s voice followed her.
‘See, Deb, no need to stress. Why don’t you stay here tonight?’
Nina heard a muffled answer as she started her engine, and then Heath again. ‘Ben’s fine, really, Deb. He’s fine.’
It wasn’t until Nina saw the gate leading to The Springs that she remembered.
She’d forgotten to ask Ben about how to handle Hilary.
Nothing but static. Nina turned the car radio off as she bumped up the dirt road to the house. Bach sat alert, still eager for fun.
The Springs looked lonely, stranded among dry paddocks, silhouetted by the last glow of the sun. The evening had turned gusty, and the sound of sheet iron flapping in the wind made the place feel all the more desolate.
‘Bach, here, boy!’ she called
as he shot out into the darkness, not wanting to go into the empty house alone. But Bach had other things on his mind. ‘Bach!’ She turned the key in the door.
Nina was greeted by the familiar smell of dust. She propped the kitchen door open to let some air in. The scrubbed wooden table glowed in the light from the pendant lamp. At least this room looks like someone lives here, Nina thought. But the wind slammed the door, and her heart skipped a beat. The branches of the pomegranate tree scratched against the verandah. Taking a breath, she opened the door once more and called, ‘Bach! Here, boy. Bach!’
Still no friendly little face appeared. The place felt so empty. That’s because it is, you idiot, Nina told herself. She opened a cupboard door. She had planned to make a proper meal but her heart wasn’t in it. Instead she reached for some cracker biscuits and a bottle of red, then grabbed a hunk of cheese from the fridge.
A heavy weight descended on her as she opened the wine. A tinge of sadness. It was like that lonely feeling she used to have on Sunday nights as a kid. Ridiculous. She knew what was wrong. It was one thing to hear about Heath and Deborah’s engagement, it was something different to see them together.
But why? She had a boyfriend, didn’t she? Theo was much more her style, and much more suitable for city living, she thought dryly. Time to get over it. It was the remnants of a childish crush, embarrassing and stupid.
Nina poured a generous amount into one of the old wine glasses. Drinking alone. Like Russell. At home, she went out with friends to drink, or had a glass over dinner with Theo. Just this once, she thought. It’ll warm me up. Olivia had told her how hot it could get out here but no-one had told her about the cool nights.
She walked through the house, curious to see how it looked now that Moira and she had thrown so much away. Without the layer of rubbish, the sitting room was bleak and naked. Jim’s bright painting of Fort Denison and his tender portraits highlighted the room’s desperate need of a coat of paint. The old sofa and chairs were solid but they needed re-upholstering, maybe with a funky Japanese print. This place had so much potential!
The Painted Sky Page 9