‘Perhaps they’re definitely here this time?’ Liz cocked her ear, listening. ‘Can you hear a vehicle?’
Bella caught the low growl of a motor and her heart skipped. There was a slim chance the vehicle was Gabe’s, but it was more likely to be her parents’ car.
A moment later, there was a horn blast, loud and triumphant and long.
‘That’s got to be them.’ On a burst of unexpected emotion, Bella gave Liz a swift hug. She was longing to see her parents, but she’d grown so close to her aunt and now, everything was about to change again. ‘I’ll go and open the gate.’
She hurried across the lawn and was just swinging the gate wide as her parents’ Subaru came around the bend. Her mother was at the wheel and her father’s window was down and he was grinning and waving a long tanned arm.
Beside Bella, Gus became frantic, leaping up, barking a welcoming yip, then quickly sitting again, as he knew he should. But although he sat, he was panting and straining with impatience, his tail wagging madly as the car rumbled over the cattle grid and through the gate.
The instant the car slowed, her father’s door opened and he almost leaped out, his face alight, his arms wide. Bella thought he looked wonderful – tall and adorable and with an undeniable presence. Peter Fairburn, Master of Mullinjim, coming home.
He hugged her fiercely to his chest and it felt wonderful. He was alive and recovered and his hug was as strong as ever.
‘Welcome home, Dad.’
‘Bella, it’s bloody good to be here.’
Gus woofed ecstatically.
‘How are you, old mate?’ Her father’s voice was choked and he knelt to hug his faithful companion.
As he was licked comprehensively, shiny tears glittered in his eyes.
Serving tea on the verandah, Liz thought she’d never seen Peter look happier, which was saying something. He’d always been a cheerful, uncomplicated man – steady, reliable, uncomplaining – so it was no surprise to see him take such deep pleasure in arriving home.
Now, in his favourite squatter’s chair with his long legs stretched in front of him, her brother gazed out at his dry and dusty paddocks with an expression of profound satisfaction.
But Peter didn’t look nearly as well as Liz would have liked. He’d lost weight, which was to be expected, but he also looked tired and drawn and despite his initial enthusiasm, his movements were slow and measured. Climbing the four stairs into the house had left him breathless.
Poor Virginia looked strained, too, and she was as watchful as Gus, keeping a vigilant eye on Peter’s every move.
Liz hoped the doctors knew what they were doing. Peter didn’t talk about his health, of course. His focus was on his cattle and his land.
‘I saw the new firebreaks you’ve pushed through,’ he told Bella. ‘And I noticed you’ve shifted that mob out of Fred’s paddock. That’s good – the grass in there isn’t much chop. And I see we have a nice lot of calves in the home paddock.’
‘I’ve been doing my job, Dad.’
‘I know you have, love. You’ve worked damned hard. I don’t think anyone could have done better.’
‘Not even you?’ Bella asked with a cheeky grin, even though she was glowing inside with pride.
Peter chuckled. ‘I wouldn’t go that far. If I’d been here I might have painted the stockyards purple.’
‘No worries. First thing in the morning, I’ll get the undercoat on.’
Everyone laughed at this and Liz found herself remembering earlier years when she’d sat here on the verandah, drinking tea with her parents and Peter, sharing hilarious ‘in-house’ jokes that no one else was ever likely to find funny.
Was it her imagination or was the sound of family laughter somehow different from other laughter?
Liz had chosen another lifestyle for herself, replacing home and family with music and musicians and she was fine with her choice. She’d made wonderful friends, funny, witty, wise and loyal friends. But just occasionally, in moments like this, she missed the special closeness that came from blood ties and from living with people she loved.
She had treasured these past few weeks with Bella.
‘By the way,’ Peter was saying to Bella. ‘I’m sorry I missed this French boyfriend of yours. He didn’t stay long. What happened? Too hot for him here?’
Liz saw the colour come and go in Bella’s cheeks.
‘He’s headed down to the Snowy Mountains,’ Bella said. ‘Checking out the ski facilities for next winter.’
‘Ah, well. I’m sure he’ll find that interesting.’ Peter was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I know we’ve put a lot of pressure on you, Belle. You had plans of your own. You still want to go back to Europe, don’t you?’
Liz was aware of the sudden tension in their little circle. Virginia’s work-reddened hands tightened in her lap.
Bella chewed anxiously at her lower lip, but she recovered quickly. ‘It all depends on how you shape up, old fella,’ she told her father fondly.
‘No, no. You can’t plan your life around me. I dragged you away, but I don’t want to hold you here. It’s got to be what you want. Your mother and I can always work something out. Anyway, Luke may still want to come back here.’
‘Is that really on the cards?’ Liz couldn’t help asking.
Virginia shook her head. ‘Luke’s talking about an environmentally sustainable housing project next. That’s what he wants to work on when he’s finished at Charters Towers. His heart’s with building, not with cattle.’
Peter turned to Bella who was fingering cracked paint on the verandah railing. ‘Don’t let this talk throw you, Belle. There’s no rush to give us an answer.’
Her shoulders lifted in an uneasy shrug. ‘I’ve an open-dated return ticket and I think it’s good for another six months.’ Jumping to her feet, she began to gather up the cups and saucers. ‘But you’ve only just walked in the door, Dad. We can talk about it in a day or two.’
Bella dropped a light kiss on her dad’s brow, then took the afternoon-tea things to the kitchen. Virginia followed her, while Liz lingered on the verandah with Peter. It was rather nice, just the two of them again after all these years, brother and sister, sitting here in silence and thinking about their childhood and the simple pleasures of life in the bush for kids. Together they’d had all kinds of adventures – long horse rides and sleeping out overnight, cooking their own messy meals over campfires, building a tin canoe out of corrugated iron, fishing for black bream.
‘Remember those lizard eggs you used to collect?’ she asked Peter with a smile.
He chuckled then shook his head. ‘Poor things. I thought I was trying to farm them, but at least half of them never hatched.’
Before Liz could recall another escapade from their past, the other memory forced its painful way into her thoughts like a scorching bullet.
Without warning, she was reliving the bleakest day of her life – the miscarriage, the dear, tiny, tiny body and the thin white blanket that she’d wrapped him in.
And Peter had helped her. She’d been so weak and terrified, and she’d begged and cried and pleaded, and her dear, loyal brother had helped her to bury the baby right here at Mullinjim. And he’d kept her dark, shameful secret from their parents.
As far as Liz knew, Peter had kept that memory to himself ever since that harrowing ordeal. They’d never talked about it again.
And Liz had never come home.
She’d told Bella that coming home could be tricky, but perhaps she should have told her niece that the further you ran, the less good it did you. Eventually the past caught up with you and you couldn’t make any progress until you came back and dealt with it.
‘Are you okay, Liz?’
She shot a quick glance Peter’s way and saw sympathy and pain in his eyes, and she knew he was remembering that day, too. He’d understood how devastated and guilty she’d felt, but he’d never once laid accusations.
‘It’s fantastic to have you home again,’ he said g
ently.
‘It’s wonderful to be here.’
Liz suspected she’d probably feel a great deal better if they just talked about this once, but she couldn’t bring that painful subject into the open. Not when Peter had just arrived home.
Fortunately she was practised at suppressing the dark memory. Once again she pushed it down and manufactured a cheerful smile.
‘I’ve loved being here with Bella,’ she said lightly. ‘She’s been a dynamo about the place and she’s great company. It’s been fun.’
Peter watched her for a moment, as if he was taking her measure, and Liz half-expected him to challenge her, but he simply smiled. ‘I don’t suppose you could play something for me?’
‘Of course I could, Pete. What would you like to hear?’
‘How about something cheerful?’
‘Boogie Woogie?’
‘Yeah. That’d be great.’
Taking a deep, calming breath, Liz rose, patted her brother’s shoulder and dropped a light kiss on his thick, greying hair. She opened the French doors that led to the lounge room and left them open so Peter could hear the piano.
Once again, as she had every day for the past thirty years, she blocked out the memory with music.
With dinner over and her father already in bed, Bella went looking for her mother and found her outside in the garden, bucketing water onto plants.
Her mother set down her bucket with a sigh. ‘Even my sturdy pentas are on their last legs.’
‘The bureau’s promising rain in January, so let’s hope we can hold out till then.’
‘Depends which end of January.’
‘Yes, well . . . I guess we can only hope . . . ’
Light spilled into the garden from the verandah, illuminating her mum’s tired face and the extra grey in her short fair hair. Bella had seen so little of her since she’d arrived back from Europe. Most phone conversations had been with her father, discussing cattle.
Now she slipped her arm around her mother’s shoulders, giving her a hug. ‘You’ve had a rough trot these past few weeks. You should make the most of having helpers now.’
‘That’s a nice offer, Bella, but you know me. I like to keep busy.’
‘I bet you’re glad to be home.’
‘I’m pleased to be out of that motel. And for your father’s sake I’m certainly pleased to be here. I know how much it meant to him to come home.’
‘It was worth it just to watch his reunion with Gus.’
Virginia smiled. ‘It was, wasn’t it? Those two were like Cathy and Heathcliff.’ Bending forward, she pinched a dead flower head from a shrub and dropped it into the garden. ‘But I don’t want you to misread this homecoming, Bella. I’m afraid Dad’s not going to regain anywhere near his former strength.’
A chill snaked down Bella’s spine and she shivered. ‘But – but the doctors were happy for him to come home, weren’t they?’
‘With reservations. Peter’s not a good patient and they agreed that he’d be happier here, but they warned me not to expect a huge improvement. He has––’ Her mother stopped suddenly and drew a sharp breath, widening her eyes as if she was trying not to cry.
‘Mum.’ Bella’s throat felt as if she’d swallowed a hot coal. ‘That’s awful.’
Her mother nodded, took another deep breath and seemed to recover. ‘I know, darling. In lots of ways I would have been happier to stay in Townsville, close to the hospital, but I suppose that’s a defeatist way to think. And Peter couldn’t bear to be treated like a permanent invalid.’
Bella couldn’t bear the thought either. Her dad had always been so strong and supremely capable. He’d spent his entire life working in the outdoors, tackling hard, physical tasks that would scare off many younger men.
‘I’ve managed to get one concession out of your father, Bella. He’s not going to saddle up Striker. He’s had his last ride.’
The ground beneath Bella seemed to fall away. She felt terrified.
Bugger off, Yewengie.
‘I’ve asked Peter to limit his driving, too,’ her mother went on. ‘So if he goes out on the property with you, I’d be very grateful if you could hang onto the steering wheel.’
Bella nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’
She half-expected her mother to quiz her again about her plans for the future, and she was rather relieved when she didn’t. She was happy to stay on here to help her parents, although she wasn’t sure if she could bear to hang around indefinitely if she didn’t get some kind of response from Gabe.
It seemed he had no plans to return her calls and if he couldn’t manage that small courtesy, Bella knew she had decisions to make. Difficult decisions, which would be have to be made minus the Gabe factor, for possibly the first time in her life.
32.
A huge banner bearing ‘Our Liz’ in bright red letters hung along the street-side wall of the CWA hall, and much to Liz’s amazement, the place was packed for her concert. The little hall was bulging at the seams.
She’d thought that twenty or thirty might be a good crowd, but the organisers had needed to cram so many extra chairs in, they’d been forced to move their beautiful flower arrangements back into the kitchen to make room for the expanded audience.
Liz had told her family not to bother coming. It was only a little thing after all and they could hear her play at home any time. Besides, another trip so soon would be too tiring for Peter.
But the concert was to raise money for the Flying Doctors, such a vital lifeline for people in the bush. And many of the people who’d come were longstanding friends of Peter’s. There were many more men than Liz had expected.
As Nancy Hedges, the CWA’s president, mentioned in her touching introductory speech, they all knew about Peter’s two mercy dashes to hospital via the Flying Docs. So the vibes in this tiny country hall were incredibly positive and Liz felt overwhelmed, in a good way.
She’d chosen short, well-known pieces – beginning with Debussy’s Clair de Lune, followed by the beautiful Brahms Intermezzo, and then for a complete change of pace, the Morton Gould Boogie Woogie Étude that Peter was so fond of, before moving on to her beloved Chopin.
The audience appeared to be spellbound and Liz knew she was playing at her best. Yes, the piano was dodgy, but it had been tuned and she managed to make it work. To her delight, the applause grew more and more enthusiastic with each piece. It was so unexpected, almost as if this small rural community was giving her an enormous bear hug. Liz had, quite possibly, never felt more warmly embraced.
The organising committee had decided not to have an interval – the women serving the tea and scones didn’t want to miss any more of the concert than they absolutely must – and Liz finished her recital with Fantasy Impromptu. It was always such a showy, crowd-pleasing piece, starting with a bang, moving into the quieter ‘chasing rainbows’ section and then racing off again on a rousing, rolling wave towards the finish.
The reception from the audience, as Nancy presented Liz with a massive bouquet, was thunderous. A cheering, standing ovation.
Afterwards Liz was mobbed.
‘Liz, we’re so proud of you.’
‘I’ve been following your career for years and years, listening to your concerts on the radio.’
‘It’s such a thrill to hear you play live.’
‘We can’t believe you grew up way out here. It’s amazing.’
‘Such a pity Peter couldn’t be here too.’
Liz was used to the refined appreciation of music buffs but these simple, heartfelt messages really touched and warmed her. It was unexpectedly gratifying.
She was chatting with a group of women, while carefully balancing a teacup on the edge of a plate piled with scones and slices, when she saw a familiar tall figure in the corner.
Her heart took a sudden, sideways slide.
Jack.
She’d had no idea he was here, but now their eyes met across the crowded room – such an overused cliché – yet for Liz it w
as an electrifying experience nonetheless. She was suddenly shaking and in danger of dropping her teacup and plate.
Still trembling, she set them down on the nearest available surface, which proved to be the top of the piano.
A reaction like this had never happened to her before. She’d never locked gazes with a handsome man and felt as if the blood in her veins had burst into song. Surely it wasn’t supposed to happen at her age?
‘I hope you’ll excuse me,’ she said to the posse of women gathered around her. ‘I – I need to speak to someone and he has to leave at any moment.’
She felt ridiculously nervous as she made her way through the crowd, smiling, nodding, acknowledging greetings, while steadily weaving a determined route to the back of the room.
It was only when she reached Jack that she noticed how worried he looked.
Her smile faltered. ‘Hello, Jack.’
‘Liz.’ His answering smile was tilted at half-mast as he held out his hand to shake hers. ‘You were amazing.’
‘Thank you. I had no idea you were coming.’
‘Last-minute decision. I was a bit late and I had to squeeze into a back corner.’ He swallowed and a suspicious sheen glinted in his blue eyes. ‘Liz, I should have known . . . ’
His voice was so quiet, she barely heard him over the buzz of the crowd.
‘I had no idea,’ he said. ‘You’re so . . . so . . . ’
Heavens, the poor man looked shocked and upset.
‘Have I frightened you, Jack?’
He smiled crookedly. ‘I think you have.’
His gaze travelled over her, taking in the pearls at her throat and her sleeveless black linen dress from Raphael’s in Milan.
‘It sounds crazy now,’ he said. ‘But I had been starting to think . . . almost hoping . . . and I realise now how foolish that . . . ’
With a shake of his head, he went silent as if he couldn’t bring himself to finish whatever he’d been trying to say. He looked so upset that Liz was overwhelmed by a need to comfort him, to take him in her arms.
Surely I can’t be in love with Jack Roper?
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