They’d been driving through cattle country for hours, past dusty paddocks and rocky red ridges. Everywhere the landscape was parched and thirsty, the creeks shrunk to mere trickles or strings of puddles in wide sandy beds.
Yep, this is definitely the sunburnt country, Bella thought. And, like Dorothea Mackellar, she couldn’t help loving it.
From the moment they’d left Townsville, heading north-west via Charters Towers in a borrowed, rather inappropriate city sedan, Bella had felt totally sentimental about straggly gum trees and barbed wire fences. At the first sight of Brahman cattle – droopy-eared, humped-backed, and silvery-grey – she’d actually been blinking back tears.
Now she and Liz were nearly home. They’d been through the tiny country town of Gidgee Springs where the locals had fussed over them as they’d shopped for essentials, where every shopfront, even the empty ones, brought back a different memory from Bella’s past.
And now they were at the Mullinjim turn-off, leaving the bitumen and taking the red dirt road that led beneath a wooden post-and-rail arch bearing the property’s name.
The sun was sliding westwards, casting long shadows from the bloodwoods and ironbarks, and softening the dry, dusty paddocks, turning them into fields of beauty. To Bella, every tree, every pale clump of granite rock, every fence post felt familiar.
‘Welcome home,’ she said, sending Liz a wobbly smile.
‘And to you, too, Belle.’ Liz’s voice was tight.
‘Feeling nostalgic after all this time?’
‘I might be, if I wasn’t more concerned about this little toy car and whether it’s going make it down the track in one piece.’
Even as Liz said this, the car’s tyres began to slide on a slippery patch of gravel.
‘Shit.’ Bella pulled a guilty face. ‘I guess I’ll slow down.’
‘Might be a good idea.’
Bella drove sedately around the next bend, which was probably why she had time to see the tractor working in the distance.
‘What’s going on?’ she demanded, bringing the car to an abrupt halt.
Liz raised her sunglasses and squinted. ‘Where?’
‘Over there, near the trees.’ Bella pointed to a distant cloud of dust. ‘Looks like someone’s working with a grader blade. On our land.’
‘Maybe Peter organised it and forgot to tell us.’
‘I suppose that’s possible.’
The line of trees where the tractor was working marked the border between Mullinjim and Redman Downs, the Mitchells’ place.
Which was probably why Bella was instantly tense. She knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid Gabe. Her father had actually suggested that she should ask him and their other neighbours for help.
Her dad was trying to protect her, of course, but she wouldn’t prove anything by running for help every five minutes.
‘I need to find out what that driver’s up to,’ she said, ignoring Liz’s frown. ‘I’m going to check him out.’
‘It’s pretty obvious he’s clearing a firebreak, isn’t it? He’s probably a contractor.’
‘Probably.’ For the most part, Mullinjim’s internal roads and creeks and gullies served as natural firebreaks, but there were one or two sections on the boundaries that usually needed maintenance. ‘Mum didn’t mention him, though.’ Bella frowned. ‘Anyway I should know what’s going on here.’
‘Up him, Spot. He’s not our dog,’ Liz responded with a grin.
‘Huh?’
‘It’s something your grandfather used to say. Means you’re adapting fast, Belle. You’re vigilant, like all good property folk, demanding to know who’s doing what on your land.’
‘Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?’
‘Of course it does.’ Still smiling, Liz squinted at the tractor again. ‘But you won’t be able to drive across there.’
‘No.’ If she was in the ute she’d have no trouble bouncing over the rough paddocks, but this little car would never make it. ‘I’ll walk. I won’t be long.’
This brought a resigned sigh from Liz.
‘You don’t have to come.’ Bella was already scrambling out of the car.
‘Don’t worry. I don’t plan to. I’ll stay here in air-conditioned comfort, thanks.’ Liz pressed a button on the car radio. ‘I might even listen to a little Classic FM if I can get it out here.’
‘You should be listening to country,’ Bella called back over her shoulder. ‘To help you get back in the groove.’
Without waiting to see Liz’s reaction she set off across the paddocks, frightening a flock of noisy apostle birds that rose in a chattering, musical cloud.
Wow. How long had it been since she’d heard that sound? She’d almost forgotten how much she loved the bird calls of the bush. She was so busy thinking about other birds – magpies, plovers, corellas – that she was at the halfway point across the paddock before she realised she was marching straight into trouble.
She recognised the man on the tractor.
All too clearly.
Even from a distance of a hundred metres, even though his face was shaded by his Akubra, Bella could identify Gabe’s profile. She would know it anywhere – the nose that wasn’t too sharp or too fleshy – the square line of his jaw, the extra wide set of his strong shoulders.
A storm of butterflies rose in her stomach.
Too many times she’d fantasised about meeting Gabe again, but she’d always imagined she’d be totally prepared and looking glamorous – immaculately groomed and wearing a cool little number from Paris or London as well as killer high heels. Ideally there would also be a sexy European man on her arm.
Instead she was hot and sticky, dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt with her hair scraped back in a messy knot. No different from the thousands of other times Gabe Mitchell had seen her. And Anton, unfortunately, was on the other side of the world.
She felt sick and she might have turned and hightailed it back to the car, but Gabe had already noticed her.
Gulp.
Bella was so annoyingly hot and bothered she could no longer remember why she’d been so dead-set keen to speak to this guy.
Gabe cut the motor. The dust settled.
Her heart drummed loudly in the sudden silence, but she made herself keep walking towards him and she made herself walk slowly, hoping that at least she looked calm on the outside.
As she drew closer she saw his frown – nothing new there. She kept walking, watching him warily.
Gabe hadn’t changed. He still had that special brand of masculine self-assurance that couldn’t be manufactured. It was in the easy way he moved – now, swinging down from the tractor with effortless grace. And again now, as he stood with his thumbs tucked in the loops of his jeans, waiting, watching her.
His piercing grey eyes held her in a steady, unsmiling gaze.
In the good old days Gabe had always smiled. His smile had been one of her favourite things about him.
Other memories flooded her . . . the nut-brown sheen of his hair, now hidden by his hat, the taste of his kisses, the smell of his skin, the sexy sureness of his hands . . .
Stop it.
Bella wished she could wipe her suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans, but there was no way she’d let Gabe see she was nervous. Not when he was as calm as a bloody mountain.
‘Bella, how are you?’ His eyes burned, but his voice was coolly polite, almost haughty.
Bella swallowed, squeezed out a smile. ‘Really well, thanks, Gabe. And you?’
‘Fine thanks. How’s Peter?’
‘Much the same. Still holding on.’
He nodded and after a brief pause. ‘Welcome home.’
Still no smile.
Bella had never felt more awkward with Gabe. Well, yes, she had felt this bad, actually – on a disastrous night and the days that followed, the time she’d prefer to forget.
‘In case you were wondering,’ he said with stiff formality. ‘I’ve collected your parents’ dogs. They’re over at our place.
’
‘Oh, yes, Mum mentioned that. Thanks. I’ll come over and get them tomorrow, if that suits.’
‘Sure.’
She squared her shoulders. ‘So why are you working on Mullinjim land now?’
Gabe shot a glance back over his shoulder at the cleared track behind him. ‘Pretty obvious, isn’t it? This section’s quite overgrown and––’
‘Did Mum ask you to ’doze firebreaks?’
He turned back to her slowly, his grey eyes still cool. ‘No.’
‘Was it Luke’s idea?’
‘No, Bella. Your family’s had too much on their plate to worry about this, but there’s a high fire danger right now. I thought I’d help out.’
Bella swallowed. ‘That’s – very kind of you, Gabe. Much appreciated.’ She spoke in a brusque, businesslike tone. ‘But don’t worry about the rest. I can take over now.’
‘I don’t mind––’
‘It’s okay, Gabe.’ It was almost impossible to hide her tension. ‘I’ve come home to take charge. I know how to drive all the machinery on Mullinjim. I can take care of any breaks that need slashing on our land.’
He stared at her for the longest time, his jaw tight, but his expression annoyingly unreadable. Finally he shrugged. ‘Please yourself.’ After a beat of silence, he added, ‘You always have and I guess nothing’s changed.’
With that parting shot he turned and swung back into the tractor, and Bella whirled away too, hurrying and wishing she could run, but knowing it was too undignified. She made do with long, angry strides, smarting and cursing all the way back to the car where she jumped in and slammed the door.
‘Bella, what happened?’
She couldn’t answer her aunt.
‘What is it?’ Liz persisted. ‘Who is that man?’
‘Gabe Mitchell,’ she said finally.
‘Oh?’ Liz sounded surprised, which was understandable. ‘Isn’t he your neighbour?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, that’s okay then. I suppose Gabe’s being helpful then – pushing breaks as a favour?’
‘He likes to think so.’
Liz apparently chose to ignore the tartness in Bella’s voice. ‘It’s very good of him.’
No, Bella wanted to shout. He’s making out he’s doing us a favour, but he’s showing me up. It’s his favourite pastime.
‘He thinks he’s––’ Bella stopped. She really didn’t want to talk about Gabe.
Besides, she’d just noticed that Liz’s eyes and nose were decidedly pink as if she’d been crying. ‘Liz, are you okay? Have you been worrying about Dad?’
‘Yes,’ her aunt sniffed, but then she grimaced guiltily. ‘Actually it’s not just Peter. It’s that damn country music you told me to listen to. Those songs are so bloody sad. All about breaking up and lonely nights and people making terrible mistakes.’
‘Well, yes. That’s what country music’s famous for.’
Bella was surprised that the sentimental songs had touched her worldly aunt. ‘I suppose that’s why they’re so popular,’ she said. ‘But you like opera. Isn’t that all about tragedy, too?’
‘Opera’s different. It’s pure melodrama. This music’s so down to earth and – I don’t know – personal.’ Liz gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Bella. I’m only human, after all. If you prick us, do we not bleed?’
Trust Liz to try to cover up with Shakespeare.
As Bella drove on through the darkening bush, she was puzzled by the fact that a simple country singer had reduced her calm, super-sophisticated aunt to tears. What did it mean? Was Liz truly anxious about coming home?
She might have quizzed Liz if she’d felt stronger, but her encounter with Gabe had left her feeling tense and vulnerable, which was the last thing she wanted. If she was to get this job done, she needed to be tough.
It was close to dark by the time they reached the home paddocks. Bella cast a quick eye over the quietly grazing cattle – mostly pregnant heifers and cows with calves, kept close to the house so they could be monitored and more easily fed with supplements.
Finally Liz opened the gate in the purple bougainvillea hedge and Bella drove through to the homestead. She’d been waiting for this for so long, and she wondered, again, what her aunt was feeling after all these years.
But if Liz felt nostalgic, she didn’t let on as she stood, stretching her back and letting her gaze travel over the house – a traditional, sprawling Queenslander with wrap-around verandahs, shadowy in the twilight, an iron roof sweeping low.
‘The old place looks a bit tired,’ was all she said.
‘The wilted garden doesn’t help.’ Bella winced at the sight of the brown and shrivelled plants in her mum’s beloved garden. Over in the veggie patch, vines had withered and fallen tomatoes lay rotting on the ground. Even the hardy spider lilies that bordered the front steps were struggling in the heat.
‘The house needs a good coat of paint.’
Bella shrugged, slightly annoyed by the implied criticism from her aunt who’d been away for decades. She’d been fighting edginess and a downbeat vibe ever since her conversation with Gabe, and now, for the first time in her life, she was coming home to a dark and silent, empty house.
During the whole time she’d been away, whenever she’d thought about this house, she’d envisaged it filled with light and warmth and with the family she loved.
Get over it. You’re tough now, remember?
Reaching into the glove box she extracted the heavy set of keys. ‘Let’s get our things inside and think about dinner.’
‘I vote we have something easy tonight,’ said Liz. ‘I’d be happy with sardines on toast.’
Ewwww! Bella had been fondly remembering her mum’s delicious roast dinners. ‘I don’t mind cooking. Mum said the freezer’s pretty full.’
Heaving her pack from the boot, she went up the steps.
‘What’s this?’ Liz called from the shadows behind her.
‘Just a minute.’ Bella was fumbling at the front door, trying to find the right key. Finally she got one that turned in the old, heavy lock.
The front door creaked a little. Bella stepped inside and flicked a switch, letting light flood the hallway and spill onto the verandah, bringing to life the familiar row of pegs hung with battered Akubras and coats.
For an insane moment she was hit by an urge to bury her nose in those rugged coats, to smell the waxed cotton and maybe a little dried mud or a whiff from the cattle yards.
Abruptly she turned back to Liz who was examining the contents of an esky on the verandah.
‘Looks like someone’s left us food,’ Liz said.
‘Really?’ Not Gabe, surely?
‘There’s a casserole and a cake. Chocolate cake by the looks of it.’
‘How thoughtful. But I wonder who left it.’
‘There’s a note.’ Liz straightened, unfolding a sheet of paper and scanning it. Her face broke into a delighted smile.
‘Dear Liz and Bella,’ she read. ‘Welcome home. I know we haven’t met, Bella, but Virginia was so kind to me when I first arrived at Mullinjim, I hope this food will be useful. Hope to catch up soon, Zoe.’
Zoe?
Bella stared, open-mouthed.
‘Isn’t that thoughtful of her?’ Liz said. ‘She must have driven over from Coolabah Waters, hoping to catch us.’
Bella nodded, but she was too surprised to speak and slightly thrown by this act of kindness from a half-sister she’d never met.
Liz was lifting the lid on the casserole dish ‘Mmm. Rich beef. I think I’ve rediscovered my appetite. You know Zoe’s a fully qualified chef.’
‘Yes, so I heard. Nice that she’s putting her talents to good use.’
‘Lucky us. Let’s have our dinner in reverse. Tea and a slice of cake first while we’re reheating this lovely casserole.’
‘Good idea. I’m dying for a cuppa.’
They went inside, down the timber-floored passage tha
t opened onto the lounge and dining rooms. Bella’s nose twitched. ‘First thing, we open windows. It smells a bit stale in here.’
‘Those dead flowers won’t be helping,’ Liz said, nodding towards a drooping arrangement of dahlias and gerberas on a sideboard in the dining room.
The strong aroma of the decaying flowers shouldn’t have upset Bella, but her mother was usually so fussy about such things, and their drooping heads and fallen petals were such clear evidence of the emergency that had interrupted her parents’ lives.
In the kitchen it was even sadder. The table was still set for breakfast with the big jar of her mother’s homemade muesli sitting waiting to be used, and there was a pot of cold tea and unwashed cups on the draining board.
Liz set the esky at one end of the big kitchen table and she and Bella both stood gazing sombrely at the two yellow placemats and cheery crockery, ready for a meal that had never been eaten.
Bella imagined her mother’s terror as she waited for the Flying Doctor. Had she sat with her dad the whole time? Wiped his brow? Held his hand?
‘It couldn’t have happened at a worse time,’ she said. ‘There was no one else here on the property. Luke was at Charters Towers. Even the fencing contractors had left.’
And I was probably drinking myself silly in a bar in Val Cenis.
Giving herself a little shake, Bella crossed to the sink and pushed the casement windows open. The welcome scent of the frangipani that grew by the back steps drifted in on a warm tropical breeze. It was the smell of summer.
For better or for worse, she was home.
8.
Another hot day dawned.
The sky was bleached of colour and the air shimmered with heat as Bella drove the ute over the bumpy back roads to Redman Downs to collect the dogs. Unfortunately she had to admit Gabe had been right about the fire danger. The country was scarily dry. The grass was brown and patchy, and the cattle were trying to escape the sun by lying in the scant shade of the straggly scrub.
As soon as she got the dogs home, her first priority would be to check the Mullinjim bores and water lines and make sure the cattle were still getting enough to drink, then she would have to finish the breaks.
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