‘Yeah well, you’re not the only one, girlie. You’re not the only one.’ Hilary subsided into her chair, looking at her hands lying in her lap as if Nina wasn’t there. She was drunk, Nina decided. Better talk to her tomorrow. She backed down to the lawn.
Where was Harrison? She had to find the McNallys. She just wanted to get back to The Springs and curl up with Bach on her own bed.
‘Neens! Neeeeens!’ Ben called from the marquee entrance. Reluctantly she headed his way. Heath stood behind the wheelchair.
‘I might have been a bit over the top before. My big brother just gave me the bollocking of a lifetime,’ said Ben. He didn’t appear very chastened, though. ‘I was a bad boy. I’m sorry. Let’s just go and partay, shall we?’
‘Okay.’ She smiled, avoiding Heath’s eyes. Maybe Harrison was inside the marquee?
The familiar opening of ‘Dancing Queen’ rang out. The red-faced Chisel fan was doing his thing at the centre of the dance floor. His leaping and arm-waving had attracted an audience. The embarrassed teenager had escaped her mother and danced with a well-combed boy, each maintaining a carefully modulated expression of bored tolerance. Nina smiled. Thank god she’d never be that age again.
‘Reckon I’m off Hilary’s Christmas list,’ shouted Ben over the music. ‘She’s been accusing me all night of blocking up doorways. Just between us, I feel it’s my solemn duty to block her at every opportunity.’
Nina laughed. Ben was irresistible.
‘And thank you, Jezza, for that remarkable dancing,’ the DJ murmured into the microphone. ‘Now it’s time for a change of pace, another little something from the King, for all you lonely hearts out there. “Love Me Tender”. Thang-you-very-much.’ The DJ dimmed the lights.
‘They’re playing our song,’ Ben said to Nina. ‘Wanna dance?’
‘Pardon?’ asked Nina.
‘I said Heath wants to dance,’ laughed Ben, shoving his brother towards her.
Nina and Heath half fell into the throng, holding each other’s arms for balance amid the crush of bodies around them. They both made some show of trying to remove themselves from the crowd but there was no escape.
Nina froze. She felt her light shawl flutter to the floor, but the other couples were so close in the mirror-balled darkness that she couldn’t even bend to pick it up.
The music swelled.
They hesitated, but then surrendered to circumstances. Heath took her hand in a half-embrace, his other hand light on her waist. A jolt of electricity shot through her, like she knew it would.
Nina felt the heat from Heath’s body. They said nothing. Close up, the ends of dark hair below his ears curled, sticking to the rough surface of the scar on his neck. Her lips parted. She ached to lean forward and brush them gently against it.
He touched the small of her back to hold her formally. She flinched, feeling it more intimately than their hands touching. Did he notice? She reminded herself to breathe as her body touched his hard chest and belly. Soon it would be over.
She inhaled his smell. Aftershave and soap mingled with his masculine scent. The world slowed and shrank to the two of them. It became all heat, all sweat, all heartbeat. The flimsy silk of her dress, like skin, offered no protection against him.
They swayed in the minimum movement needed to feel that they were dancing. She, who had always resisted slow dancing, floated in perfect time with the music, and with Heath. She was unbearably excited and perfectly serene in the same moment. Nina had no idea how long they stood like that, swaying, his arms holding her tight, her head nestled under his chin, eyes closed.
Did he feel the same? She looked up. He was staring straight at her, his gaze like a spear. He must feel it.
After such a long, long time or no time at all, they became aware that the other dancers were drifting from the dance floor, leaving them conspicuous. They drew apart reluctantly.
‘So, that’s where you are!’
Everyone turned to see Hilary in the doorway, a fresh glass in her hand, fury in every line of her body. Next to her, Deborah’s eyes moved from the couple on the dance floor to her mother and back again.
‘You!’ Hilary said, pointing at Nina. ‘Just like your mother! Coming in here and taking everything!’
And then Hilary moved – swift steps towards the couple. The crowd fell away, like a ripple in a pond. Heath instinctively sheltered Nina in his arms, but nothing would stop Hilary.
‘You,’ Hilary repeated, her voice bathed in contempt. Like a swordsman lunging, she tossed the red wine out of in an arc. The crowd gasped. The splash fell like a spurt from an artery, and Nina’s white hem dripped wine like blood.
All was still, silent.
‘Bloody hell, that’s done it,’ said Ben.
Hilary stood, staring. But then her expression changed. Her hand came forward and grasped Nina’s necklace, pulling the chain hard against her neck.
‘Where the hell did you get that locket?’
CHAPTER 7
‘Deborah?’ Hilary knocked gently on the bedroom door. ‘Deborah? It’s almost midday.’ Hilary pressed her ear up to the door. She rapped harder.
‘I think she’s still asleep.’
Hilary turned, annoyed to see Matty O’Sullivan standing at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Came over earlier to see if she was up for a ride but haven’t seen her yet.’
‘I hardly think, Matthew, that she would want to go riding at the crack of dawn after last night.’ He held her gaze. She shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’m sure you’ve got work to do.’
‘Yep, I’m off now,’ he smiled, before heading out the front door, whistling.
What was it with that boy?
‘Deborah?’ She pounded on the door. ‘Will you please –’
The door opened.
‘I’m fine, Mother, you don’t have to yell. What do you want?’
To Hilary’s surprise Deborah was fully dressed in old jodhpurs and a short-sleeved khaki shirt, her wet hair in a high ponytail.
‘Darling, why are you dressed like that? I thought you must have been feeling –’
‘Hungover? Well, yes,’ said Deborah, walking back into her room. ‘But I guess there are worse things to be.’ She looked at her mother’s pale face. ‘You’re looking pretty average yourself.’ She sat on the bed and started pulling on her riding boots.
‘Me? Don’t be ridiculous, Deborah, I’m fine. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can I get you something?’ Hilary smoothed her linen dress and brushed a stubborn blonde lock from her eyes.
Deborah sighed. ‘No, Mother, as I said, I’m fine. Heath came over earlier and brought me up some tea and juice and Panadol and stuff.’ She motioned to a tray and a bunch of flowers on her dressing room table.
‘He did?’ asked Hilary, relieved. ‘I must have missed him, organising the cleaners. Why didn’t you tell me he was here? How was he?’
Deborah sighed again. ‘He was fine, Mother. He’s fine, I’m fine, we’re all fine. I’m just embarrassed.’
‘Now look, darling, there’s no need to be embarrassed,’ said Hilary, thinking back to the sight of Deborah throwing up behind the statue of Eros as the last guests were leaving. ‘No-one would have worried about you having a few drinks after that Larkin girl kept throwing herself at Heath – she has dollar signs in her eyes, that one. And at least Mac and Kathryn had gone to bed –’
‘Mother, I’m not embarrassed about me. Don’t you get it? Don’t you remember the scene with Nina and the wine and the dancing and the –’
‘Now, darling, that’s enough. You might think it’s all right to put up with things like that but I don’t. I just stood up for myself, for you, I mean. She had no right dancing with Heath at your engagement party.’
‘But it’s normal to dance at a party! Don’t you see? The only person who was upset was you.’
Hilary sighed, exasperated. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help it if I’m the only person here to look out for your interests. I implore you, dar
ling, steer clear of Nina Larkin. I just know she’s trouble.’
‘Oh please, Mother. And tell me, what was that whole drama about Nina’s locket? I mean, really, talk about embarrassing!’
‘It was nothing, darling, nothing,’ said Hilary, feeling a massive headache coming on. ‘I just thought I’d seen it somewhere before. All’s well. Now I take it you are riding over to Heath’s? It might be good to show everyone that you’re up, you are unabashed and you are happy. That’s the way.’
‘But I’ve already seen Heath. I promised Matty yesterday that we could try out that new jump that he spent ages setting up. I think the fresh air will do me good.’
‘Really, Deborah,’ said Hilary, annoyed. ‘I’d have thought you could be a bit more considerate. Matthew has work to do anyway. Have you considered that I might like some help clearing up after the party? That your father might like to have some company after his rocket plans were ruined? Or that Heath might like you to spend some time with him?’
Deborah laughed as she stood up. ‘Mother, I know the cleaners have been here all morning and Heath, as I keep telling you, is fine. Matty actually has today off. I’ll talk to Dad before I leave. You know the rockets will be used for the wedding reception.’
‘That’s not the point,’ snapped Hilary. ‘You need to buck up. What’s wrong with you? I haven’t worked my backside off for this whole wedding extravaganza to blow up in our faces. We as a family have a lot riding on our good name. And on our future connections with the Blacketts.’
‘Oh, Mother, really, I think you are –’
‘Don’t “oh, Mother” me,’ snapped Hilary. ‘I’ve seen the look on Kathryn and Mac’s faces sometimes. They try to avoid me, don’t deny it. It’s true. It’s so unfair, unjust, I can’t –’
Deborah leaned over and kissed her mother on the top of her head.
‘Look, I appreciate all you did last night but for the 50th time, everything is fine.’ Deborah grabbed her hard hat and headed for the door. ‘Now I’d better go. Matty will be waiting.’
Hilary sat on her daughter’s bed, exhausted.
Well, at least Heath had been over. That was a good sign.
She closed her eyes and lay down. So tired. It was hard being the only person who looked at the bigger picture.
Her thoughts went back to the previous night and that damned girl standing there wearing that locket. She felt sick. That blasted locket. It was bigger and brighter than she had remembered it. It was years since she last saw it. A lifetime. It was too much.
It had been a golden afternoon at Durham House. The memories came flooding back. Hilary could almost feel the sun on her shoulders and the light breeze, with just a hint of perfume in it from the roses Russell had given her.
There had been just the four of them there: herself, a brooding Russell, Harrison – who was being his usual enigmatic self – and Jim. Beautiful, beautiful Jim.
Durham House was a ruin even then, and Harrison, Jim, and occasionally some of their Sydney friends would hang out there. Hilary, like everyone else in town, had heard whispers of what used to go on among the scattered stones and mottled fountain when Jim was home. Parties full of booze-addled, dope-smoking layabouts, thundered some. Orgies, whispered the more imaginative. Idiots. No wonder Jim moved to Sydney.
Hilary had pestered Russell about what his dazzling brother had really got up to. ‘Arty farty stuff,’ he’d shrugged. ‘Painting, music. Lots of crapping on about crap. You’re better off at the pub with me.’ Once Russell told her he’d seen them at Durham at night, candles in the trees, reciting poetry. ‘Fuckin’ fire hazard.’ Another time they’d filled the fountain with water – or was it champagne? Hilary had listened, enthralled. This was magic. Right here in the middle of nowhere. She had to go there, be part of this. But how? She was still at that stupid school. Whenever she’d summoned the courage to say something to Jim in town he’d been pleasant, but distant. He’d looked right through her. Couldn’t he see she was just like him? He was only three years older. She hounded Russell to take her to Durham when Jim was home but he’d always get grumpy and refuse. She would get there, she told herself. She just had to bide her time.
Hilary smiled as she recalled burying herself in the arts pages and library books at school so that she could know which name to drop, what phrase to use if she did get the chance to join them. And then, finally, it happened.
That morning had been perfect for riding, not too hot. It was the second day of the spring holidays in her final school year. She’d been on the new pony Mac and Kathryn had just surprised her with, to keep her busy, she supposed. It had been months since she’d seen Jim in town. She was on the main road, near Kurrabar, when Russell had driven up beside her in his ute. He had been following her.
‘Hey, Hilary, where you heading? That your new horse?’ he had yelled as he leaned out the window, a powerful forearm exposed under his checked flannel shirt. ‘Heard you got one. Stabled up at Kurrabar?’
‘Yes,’ Hilary had replied. Russell always wanted to know her business.
‘Watcha up to? Want to head over to Durham House with me for a while?’
‘Careful, Russell, you’ll spook him,’ she had snapped as she pulled on the reins, coaxing the horse to a stop.
He turned off the engine. She put up with Russell because he was Jim’s brother, but he was needy, whining. There was no way she was going to Durham House alone with him.
‘Is Jim back for the holidays yet?’
‘No,’ Russell had replied sulkily. ‘Come on, Hilary, come to Durham House.’
She shook her head. ‘Not much point going if it’s just you and me.’
‘I’ve got a surprise for you if you come.’
She watched him as he got out of the ute and leaned against it, arms crossed, his long, curly brown hair falling into his eyes. He looked cocky, full of himself.
‘What is it?’
‘If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
Russell had reached over and grabbed the reins. ‘Come on, Hils, I do have one.’
‘Let go, Russell. Stop pawing me.’
‘Check this out.’ And then he had pulled the locket from the pocket of his faded, dirty rugby shorts. He held it in front of her, the gold dazzling in the sun. ‘Come to Durham House with me this arvo and you can wear it.’
It was so beautiful; a glowing jewel in the middle of a poor, dry landscape. She, like everyone, knew the stories behind the locket, how it apparently held clues to a fortune. But she had not been prepared for its beauty.
‘What! Wear it for five minutes?’ she had said. ‘Big deal.’
‘Come with me and you can have it.’
What a fool he was. For a second she didn’t believe him, but this was Russell and she knew he was in love with her. She turned her pony and followed him.
Hilary got up from Deborah’s bed and walked over to her daughter’s dressing table where Heath’s flowers lay. Deborah was lucky. She didn’t know what it was to never have enough. Her mind went back to the full-blown roses Russell had cut from the garden at The Springs.
He had held them out to her after she rode over and met him at the ornate, decaying gate at Durham House.
She had been planning to get the locket and leave but Russell kept stringing out the whole process.
‘Here, I got you these,’ he said, thrusting the roses into her arms, before helping her tie up the pony. But she couldn’t contain herself any longer.
‘Can I wear it now? Where is it?’
Russell had smiled and was about to reply when they both heard a noise – a laugh, then a clinking of glasses.
Russell had put his fingers to his lips and frowned. They both headed towards the fountain. The others! Thank god she’d agreed to come.
Jim reclined naked in the fountain bowl which he and Harrison must have filled with bore water. A shirtless Harrison sat on the edge, pouring champagne. He and Jim were both lau
ghing. Then they saw they had company.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ Russell was furious.
‘Oh shit.’ Harrison was still giggling but Hilary could see a flash of annoyance cross his face. ‘Sorry, Russell. We were on our way to tell you Jim was home. But we got, er, waylaid. Champers?’
Hilary could feel Harrison relax into his favourite role, that of host. He was the worldly one, all of 25 then. ‘Jim, we have female company,’ he had said. ‘You’d better put some clothes on.’
‘Hey, why don’t you come in? The water’s fine,’ Jim said, smiling as he stood up, defiantly revealing his tanned, muscular body. The sun was behind him, outlining his dripping silhouette. He had stood so still and looked so beautiful that for a few seconds Hilary thought she must be dreaming. He was a statue come to life. A Greek god. Then the god spoke again. ‘Come in. Go on, Hilary, isn’t it? I dare you.’ His voice held a mocking challenge.
‘Piss off, Jim,’ said Russell.
‘Oh, Russell, stop being so grumpy,’ Hilary had said, trying to appear nonchalant. ‘Give me a drink, Harrison.’
And so they had spent the afternoon lazing by the fountain; Harrison and Jim in fine form, Hilary enjoying the banter and the champagne. Only Russell seemed uneasy. He drank frequently from a hip flask. So relaxed was Hilary that she had almost forgotten the locket until Russell suddenly reached over and put it around her neck.
‘Bloody hell, Russell. Watchya bring that down here for?’ gasped Jim, still laughing. And then more serious. ‘Actually the gold matches your hair, Hilary. Wait till I get my paint box.’ He pulled on an old sarong that had been draped over the cupid’s head and loped off towards Durham House’s sagging verandah.
‘I thought Hilary might like to see what real gold feels like,’ said Russell, smiling for the first time that afternoon.
‘Well, as long as you know it’s not yours to give,’ said Harrison, gravely.
‘Hey, Hilary,’ yelled Jim from the verandah. ‘Jump in the fountain – I’m going to paint you.’
Hilary had laughed, ecstatic. Finally Jim seemed to notice her, be taken with her.
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