‘Mackenzie and Kathryn Blackett, Heath and Ben’s great uncle and aunt,’ he said. ‘They’re the district’s real blue-bloods. Salt of the earth, too.’
‘I saw them a few days ago, but I didn’t meet them,’ offered Nina.
‘They’re like parents to Heath and Ben, but that’s another story,’ said Harrison.
‘Moira told me that Mum was staying with them when she met Dad. So they must have known him too.’
‘Sure did. Their property’s out west of town. “Out the back of Wandalla”, as they say. It’s drier out there, halfway to the desert, but they’ve got a big operation, mostly wool. Jim used to work for them in the school holidays.’
‘Must talk to them as soon as I can.’
‘We’ll catch up with them inside,’ Harrison promised.
Nina relaxed. At last she was getting to meet Dad’s people.
Heath put his hands on Deborah’s shoulders.
‘It’ll be fine, Deb. I’m right here.’
Deborah looked up at him, biting the quick on her thumbnail.
‘Why does everything always have to be such a big deal with her?’ she said. She let her head flop forward so her forehead rested on his chest. ‘I wish it was tomorrow and I was riding in the far paddock with no people anywhere near me. Just the horses.’
He tipped her chin up gently in his fingertips. ‘You look beautiful.’
And she did. Her gown clung to her slim figure, and her updo showed off her long neck. He bent to kiss her under the ear.
They heard laughter from the dining room behind them.
‘Oh my god, let me guess, these must be specially made for the happy couple.’ A woman’s voice.
‘Caitlin,’ whispered Deborah.
One of those snobs from her boarding school. Heath had seen them arrive that afternoon in Land Rovers and Mercedes, all talking too loudly.
‘You think that’s tacky? You should have seen the wedding invitations she wanted!’ It was Ben. He launched into an energetic mockery of her design, sending Caitlin into fits of giggles.
I’m going to kick five shades of crap out of him, thought Heath, clenching his teeth. Ben couldn’t seem to leave Deb alone. And she’d tried so hard, driving him to appointments when Heath couldn’t do it, researching spinal injuries. If he was honest, maybe she tried a bit too hard. But her heart was in the right place.
Caitlin’s voice again. ‘Well, at least the champers is first rate. Come on, let’s get hammered.’
Deborah tore herself away from Heath and ran into the dining room. He followed at her heels.
‘Deb, you don’t want to let something like that –’
He saw her flush and realised what they’d been making fun of. The trays of rose champagne flutes inscribed in gold lettering – H & D – that he’d seen her laying out that morning. Another of Hilary’s picks from the bridal catalogue that Deborah had mutely agreed to.
Now that he looked at them, they were a bit gaudy. But they were glasses – as long as you could drink out of them, what did it matter?
‘Here’s the beautiful couple!’ One of the local vets stood at the door, looking, Heath thought, a bit like Olive Oyl with her tall skinny frame and tight black bun.
‘They’re here, everyone,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Hang on, let me get a snap.’ The vet held up her mobile and motioned the two of them together as the science teacher and the stock and station agent came tumbling in through the door.
‘Wait. Say “cheese”,’ she called.
Heath saw Deborah try to smile but her lips wobbled.
‘I haven’t been in this thing since my B&S days,’ said the teacher, trying to pull the edges of his too-small dinner jacket together.
‘You look like ten kilos of shit in a five-kilo bag,’ said the agent, clapping him on the back and letting out a huge guffaw.
‘Fantastic party, Deborah,’ said the vet. ‘This champagne is magnifique!’
Heath saw Deborah’s gaze travel to the pink flute in the vet’s hand.
‘Come on, Deb.’ He took her arm. ‘Sorry, guys, got to circulate. Good to see you.’
‘Heath, tell the waiters to get rid of these glasses and get some plain ones from the kitchen,’ Deborah whispered.
‘What?’ asked Heath. ‘But no-one will –’
‘Please, just do it and keep it down.’ Deborah looked at the trio who had perched themselves on the couch.
‘But I thought you wanted –’
‘Can’t you see I don’t want them,’ Deborah shrilled, her eyes brimming with tears. The room fell quiet.
‘I’ll get onto it right away,’ said Heath in an undertone. ‘See you out the front.’
Nina held her wrap close around her as she prepared to greet the family.
Hilary stood beside the tall doors. She was perfectly groomed, but her dress, a gold fantasy with a keyhole neckline and fishtail train, looked familiar to Nina. Then she remembered. She’d seen it on the red carpet at the Oscars some months ago, worn by a 20-year-old starlet. Hilary must have seen it and had a copy made. Though now that she could see Hilary’s sun-wrinkled décolletage through the keyhole, Nina wondered whether the money had been well spent.
Deborah appeared, hitching up the top of a form-fitting aqua dress. She seemed to have lost the poise she had on horseback. In fact, she looked seriously upset.
‘That’s Phillip Flint,’ whispered Harrison, indicating a small, balding man next to Hilary. Phillip had the placid expression and pointed lip of a tortoise. ‘The local kids call him Rocket Man because he’s a pyrotechnic whizz. But don’t let that fool you – he’s about as exciting as he looks.’
‘Did he know Dad?’
Harrison shook his head.
With a searchlight smile, Hilary peered over the heads of the couple in front of her and straight at Nina.
‘Still here I see,’ she called with a sing-song voice and a raised eyebrow. ‘Harrison, you naughty thing. You never told me who you were bringing.’
Nina moved forward and held her hand out.
‘Thanks. I hope we can have a chat later on. My dad –’
Harrison pinched her arm and she turned to him, baffled. ‘You’ve got a house you’re desperate to sell and I’m making a good offer. That’s all we need to talk about,’ said Hilary, with a forced laugh.
‘Well, I wouldn’t say I was desperate,’ Nina replied.
‘Quick, Deborah, the Blacketts are here,’ announced Hilary, looking beyond Nina. ‘Heath, why didn’t you tell me? Harrison, Gina,’ she dismissed them.
‘Mum, please – it’s Nina, not Gina,’ said Deborah.
Heath appeared abruptly in the greeting line.
Oh help, thought Nina. Too gorgeous in his black tie.
He whispered in Deborah’s ear and squeezed her shoulder. She nodded, relieved.
‘This all looks wonderful,’ Nina said to Deborah. ‘Thank you so much for –’
‘No, thank you for coming.’ Deborah kissed Harrison and smiled pleadingly at Nina, as if trying to make up for her mother’s rudeness.
But Nina was too flustered by Heath’s gaze to respond. His eyes seemed to see straight through her and much to her annoyance she blushed, her whole body conscious of his presence.
Heath too was silent, and then he remembered to put out his hand. ‘Ben tells me the house at The Springs is coming along,’ he said in his resonant voice.
Nina nodded, not trusting herself to speak as she shook his hand.
‘So, Harrison,’ Heath changed the subject, ‘I suppose Nina told you how we met up at Russell’s? Deb and I caught her arguing with one of our more stubborn gates.’
‘Yes,’ said Hilary, waving to the Blacketts. ‘Those gates are expensive. Excuse me but I must greet my guests.’
Harrison steered Nina towards the door as she gave a final smile in Deborah’s direction, avoiding Heath’s eyes.
They entered an enormous living room thronged with guests. From what Nina could see, t
he room was decorated in the same extravagant style as the exterior. She spotted a white leather lounge, white carpet, a giant TV and a grand piano – white. On one wall, a frame the size of a single bed displayed scores of blue and red ribbons, seemingly stitched together into a kind of quilt. They all seemed to be for horse riding.
Harrison snagged them a couple of glasses from a passing waiter. ‘Wouldn’t have missed this for quids,’ he smiled.
Nina surveyed the crowd for guests old enough to have known her father, but was arrested by an oil painting of a nude sitting by a fountain. It hung, pride of place, above a marble fireplace. The clean lines showed an undeniable beauty, her blonde hair and the curves of her body highlighted by the afternoon light. The model’s face was in profile. A dark magnolia tree in the background was the only other feature.
‘That picture,’ said Nina.
‘Yes, it’s a beauty, isn’t it?’ said Harrison, trying to protect his glass from being jostled. ‘You’ll never guess who.’
‘It’s Dad’s,’ said Nina, feasting her eyes.
‘It sure is,’ Harrison murmured, close to Nina’s ear. ‘One of his best. But can you guess who the wanton woman in the picture is?’
‘Well, the fountain’s at Durham House. And the tree … but –’ Nina looked at Harrison, who glanced at the door significantly.
‘Hilary?’ gasped Nina. ‘No way.’
‘Shhh,’ said Harrison, smiling. ‘It’s Wandalla’s worst kept secret. I was there when Jim painted it, but Hilary denied it for years until an art dealer told Phillip that the woman in it was exquisite. The only known instance of Hilary being shy. Now it’s front and centre.’
‘Change the music. You can’t dance to this crap,’ shouted a ruddy-faced young man above the cool jazz that was playing on the sound system.
‘Chiiiiiselll!’ shouted a voice across the room, to a spattering of applause.
‘But why would Dad paint her? I thought you said he didn’t know her very well.’
‘It was only one summer. I think it was Hilary’s last year at school,’ Harrison said. ‘Hey, fellas, how’s it going?’ he called as Matty approached, holding a tray of hors d’oeuvres above the crowd. Matty’s teeth were very white in his dark handsome face as he flashed his shy smile. Nina was glad to see at least one familiar face. He was shadowed by a tall, thin man with his eyes firmly on the tray of food.
‘Nina, you know Matty, and this is Lobby Murphy, Hilary’s brother. He works over on Kurrabar.’
‘Hi,’ she said to them both, recognising Lobby as the red-headed man working on the truck the day she’d gone to check her emails.
Matty offered the tray to Nina, and at the same time Lobby reached for the salmon crostini. He piled three together and ate them in one gulp.
‘Mmm, ready-made club sandwich.’
Hilary’s brother’s hair rose straight up from his forehead like a troll doll. He bit down on the pastry and simultaneously held out his hand to Nina.
Cold Chisel’s ‘Khe Sanh’ thumped out from the speakers. Like an ants’ nest that had been stamped on, the room came to life, bodies jumping and swaying.
‘Good to see ya, Nina,’ shouted Matty. ‘Hilary’s got me working tonight, but I’ll catch ya later.’ He moved back into the crowd with his tray.
Lobby was still shaking Nina’s hand. He’d obviously given up on his bow tie and it flopped around his neck. He caught her glance. ‘Bloody monkey suit. I wasn’t keen but Hils wouldn’t let me in without one,’ he laughed.
‘So, a top-up, Nina?’ offered Harrison, rubbing his hands. ‘I’ll venture over if you like. All set, Lobby?’ He headed for the bar.
‘How do you know Deborah?’ Lobby asked Nina before she had a chance to refuse Harrison.
‘I don’t really. I’m staying at The Springs, you know the house over –’
‘Oh you’re that girl,’ Lobby crowed. ‘Sheesh, you know how to stir things up. Never seen Hils so rattled. She always sort of thought of Russell’s land as hers. We used to hang out there in the old days.’
‘Did you know my dad?’
‘Oh yeah, we went to school together. Used to have a few coldies up the waterhole. We was great mates.’
‘Really? Did you happen to see him in Wandalla in November 1997?’
‘Jeez, now you’re askin’. Wouldn’t have a clue, mate. Or – ’97 – that was the year before I came back, but for three years before that I was shearing all round Longreach, yeah. So, no.’
Nina stifled her disappointment. ‘What was he like?’ she said, knowing she was grasping at straws. Still, you never knew what people might let slip, and especially those close to Hilary.
‘Oh, Jim was always good for a laugh, but they were a bit up themselves for me.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Lobby, don’t stand there gasbagging.’ Hilary was bearing down on them. ‘Turn down that racket and get out to the marquee. Dorothy Crane and the crew from the Argus are here to take photos. And, for god’s sake, tell Matty they need champers on the verandah – he seems to have gone walkabout.’
Turning to Nina, she said, ‘Here, take my glass, will you?’
‘Um. Sure,’ said Nina, taking the lipstick-smeared goblet, and putting it with her own half-full one on a table.
Lobby, with a backward grimace, followed Hilary into the crowd.
Harrison returned with full glasses. His face was flushed. ‘There you go,’ he said, giving one to Nina.
‘Thanks, but it looks like I’m going to be driving us home,’ she said, putting it on the table with the others.
‘Don’t worry. The McNallys can drop you off. I’ll sleep in the car.’
She’d have to slow down or she wouldn’t find out much tonight, Nina thought. ‘Hey, Harrison, how come you pinched me before? I wanted to pick Hilary’s brains about Dad,’ she said, ‘and this could be my last chance if I leave at the end of the week.’
Harrison laughed, but he didn’t meet her eye. ‘I’d keep my distance if I were you. Hilary’s not a reliable source of information.’
What the hell? Nina thought. I’ll decide what’s reliable.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Nina caught a flash of aqua silk. Through an opening in the crowd she saw Deborah putting empty glasses on a tray. She looked close to tears. Feathery strands of hair hanging over her eyes added to her air of harassment.
‘’Scuse me,’ Nina said with a smile. She squeezed between the tweedy backs.
‘Can I help?’
Deborah straightened up quickly and glanced left and right. ‘I’m just picking up these glasses,’ she said quietly, showing the monogram to Nina. ‘So over the top.’
Hilary strikes again, Nina thought. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Just tell the waiters to take them away. They’ll all disappear into the kitchen in the next half hour.’
Deborah didn’t look convinced, but she put down her tray.
‘Shit,’ she said, catching sight of herself in a gilt-framed mirror. ‘Mum’ll freak. We have to do photos for the Argus and the hair-dresser’s gone home.’ She tried in vain to tuck the tendrils back into her French roll.
‘No probs,’ said Nina. ‘Got a teasing comb and some spray?’
‘Mum does. They’re in my room. She’s got the curlers, the straighteners, the crimpers and the blowers – I never did that TAFE certificate! You’d save my life,’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t be worth living if the photos aren’t perfect.’
They picked their way up an impressive curved staircase littered with seated guests. Deborah closed the door behind them but the quiet was almost too much; the wall-to-wall carpet, hangings on the four-poster bed and lush drapery at the window gave no echo, like a padded cell. There were more blue and red ribbons too, but these weren’t framed and stitched together, simply slung over the curtain rail.
Deborah sank down on an upholstered stool in front of a dressing table with a three-way mirror and a battalion of fancy perfume bottles, all full. In pride of place sat a
silver trophy of crossed cowboy boots.
She kicked off her heels and rubbed the ball of her foot. ‘Thank god. Too small. They never stock a 42 in Dubbo, and it was too late to order them in.’
‘Huh,’ said Nina. ‘I feel your pain. I’m a 42! It sucks.’
‘I prefer riding boots myself. Men’s, if I can get away with it,’ said Deborah.
Nina picked up the comb and stood behind Deborah, teasing back the loose strands.
‘What’s the trophy for?’ she asked. ‘Line-dancing. Matty O’Sullivan and I won the Regional Championships last January.’
‘That’s so cool. I can’t dance at all. I’m like an anti-dancer. What does your mum think?’
‘I’m so sorry about before. Mum can be pretty full-on,’ Deborah said, watching Nina in the mirror. ‘She wants me to do ballroom, but line-dancing is one thing I do for myself so I’m not giving it up.’
‘Good for you.’
Deborah relaxed. ‘God, this whole party thing. It’s out of control.’
Nina restricted herself to a sympathetic smile.
‘Oh well. Not long now. One last push and it’ll all be over,’ Deborah said.
‘Sounds like you’re having a baby.’
‘Probably just as painful,’ she sighed. ‘I wish we’d known each other as kids. The boys always talked about you. You stopped coming up just before we moved here from Tamworth.’
‘So you never met my dad?’ asked Nina, fixing Deborah’s hair with a bobby pin.
‘No, but I’ve heard heaps about him. The painting downstairs, great art for sure, but you don’t really want to see your mother …’ Deborah shook her head and made a face.
‘Does she talk about him?’ asked Nina, trying to sound casual.
‘Can’t shut her up after a few glasses of wine.’ Deborah rolled her eyes. ‘All about how good-looking he was, what a great artist he was, how he had a big crush on her …’ She glanced at Nina to see why she’d stopped combing.
Nina smiled and reached for more hair pins. ‘So, they knew each other well?’
‘I don’t know about that, but it was like they were in some kind of artists’ collective, in her version. Jim the great painter, Mum the inspiration, Harrison the benefactor and poor old Russell, the little brother. Russell always carried a torch for her,’ said Deborah, seeing that Nina had stopped again.
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