‘Dad?’ Bella said a third time.
He didn’t appear to be breathing and her mind swirled. What should she do? This couldn’t happen. It simply couldn’t. If only she could think straight.
She could hardly see through her tears as she reached for his wrist to try for a pulse.
Dear God.
His skin was cold.
Liz, wearing a deep blue silk kimono over her nightdress, stood at the sink, stirring a mug of tea and anticipating the simple pleasure of taking the first hot sip.
‘I do prefer to eat my toast while it’s hot,’ Virginia muttered as she spread butter onto the warm slices that popped from the toaster.
‘Why don’t we start brekkie without them?’ Liz suggested, her mug poised at her lips.
In that same moment she glanced through the window and saw Bella flying up the track from the stables. Saw her white and stricken face.
Oh, dear Lord! ‘Virginia!’ Liz dumped her mug on the draining board. ‘Something’s happened.’
‘What do you mean?’
Liz didn’t answer, but as she hurried to the back door, Virginia was close behind her.
By now Bella was already at the bottom of the steps.
‘Where’s Peter?’ Virginia demanded, pushing roughly past Liz.
‘In the stables.’ Bella seemed to crumple before them and the message in her eyes was almost too horrifying to take in.
Aghast, Liz followed Virginia down the stairs.
Bella was sobbing now, shaking her head and struggling to speak all at once. ‘Sh-should w-we ring the Flying Doctor?’
‘Let me see him first.’
Already, Virginia was ahead of them, grim-faced and determined, hurrying with long strides, then running over the grass. Liz and Bella exchanged one agonised look and raced after her, Liz hobbling over the brittle, stubbly grass in flimsy satin slippers.
At the doorway to the stables Liz and Bella stopped, almost as if they’d silently agreed to allow Virginia a moment alone with her husband.
Liz retied the belt on her kimono, squeezed her eyes tightly shut to hold back tears. Her oldest memories were of her brother. To her, it seemed Peter had always been there, just ahead of her, paving the way through life, slow to accuse, quick to lend a hand.
He’d even been ready to shoulder the heavy burden of her darkest secret.
Don’t leave me, Pete. I’ll have no one.
Her brother was too young to die. He had to be okay. He had to be.
They moved forward again. Rounding a stack of hay bales, Liz saw Virginia kneeling at Peter’s side, holding his big hand in both of hers, folding his fingers around hers, then cradling his hand against her chest.
‘Mum?’ Bella rushed to her.
But Liz couldn’t follow. She’d seen the deathly pallor of Peter’s skin and her knees gave way. She stumbled, a loud sob bursting from her.
She mustn’t lose it – not in front of Virginia and Bella – but she was shaking and crying as she staggered the final few metres.
‘Should we try CPR?’ Bella was asking.
Virginia seemed incredibly calm as she shook her head. She’d been through this twice already, so perhaps she was prepared.
‘Are you sure?’ Bella urged.
Virginia rubbed her husband’s hand between her own, as if somehow she could warm it. ‘Yes, darling, I’m sure.’
‘But it’s too soon!’ Aghast, Liz fell to her knees. ‘Surely we must do something?’
Virginia’s face was a picture of pain and yet, amazingly, she managed not to cry. ‘He’s gone.’
‘Nooooo!’ Bella wailed.
Virginia shook her head. ‘There are no signs. And – and he’s cold.’ She pressed her lips tightly together, holding back a cry. Her eyes were stricken. ‘The doctors warned us,’ she said, her voice breaking on a sob. ‘But Peter wanted to come home. And he would have hated to wake up in hospital again.’
Bella crouched beside her mother, slipped a shaking arm around her shoulders, and their heads pressed close, the long, tawny waves against the faded silver-blonde.
An unbearable ache filled Liz’s throat.
‘It’s not fair,’ Bella whimpered.
‘No, it’s not!’ said Virginia. Her fingers trembled as she touched her husband’s cheek. Tears glittered in her eyes. ‘Oh, Pete!’ Her mouth was pulled out of shape as her tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘I wasn’t there for you, Pete. Did you call for me? Oh, Pete, oh, my darling, how can I bear this?’
37.
The day was a horrific blur for Bella. She felt drained and numb with shock. She couldn’t believe her father was gone.
Dead was such a terrible word. So final. No more chances.
All she could think about was her life stretching on and on, empty without him.
Despite the unrelenting heat, she felt cold as she made the necessary phone calls to doctors and the police and then to poor Luke. She prayed Luke would be somewhere in range of mobile reception.
To her relief he answered quickly.
‘Hey, sis, what’s up?’
‘I’m sorry, Luke. Are you very far down the road?’
‘A fair way. Why? Has something happened?’
‘Yes.’ Bella’s voice shook on the single syllable. ‘It’s Dad, Luke. He – he’s –’
There was a horrible beat of silence.
‘Not another heart attack? He’s not––’
‘Dad’s gone,’ she sobbed. ‘He – he died this morning. N-not long ago.’
She thought she heard her brother’s choked cry. ‘I – I knew you’d want to come back.’
Now she heard his shuddering breath.
‘I’m so sorry, Luke.’
‘I’m – uh – turning around. I’m coming home.’
‘You’ll be careful, won’t you?’
‘Course. Are you okay though? What about Mum? How’s she?’
‘We’re okay. I think Mum’s actually handling it better than anyone at the moment.’
‘Bella, I can’t bloody believe it.’
‘I know. It’s––’ With a huge effort, she resisted an overpowering urge to break down again. ‘I don’t think he suffered at all.’ She didn’t want to upset her brother any more than necessary, not when he still faced the drive back to Mullinjim.
‘Right.’ Luke sounded tired. Shattered. He let out a heavy sigh. ‘See you in a couple of hours.’
‘Drive safely, mate.’ Just before she hung up, Bella added, ‘Love you, big brother.’
They decided that Liz should ring Zoe, which was just as well, as it was clear to Bella, listening to Liz’s end of the conversation, that the poor girl was a mess.
‘Peter had a wonderful time last night,’ Liz reassured her. ‘He told us several times on the way home that it was one of the best nights of his life . . . No, I’m sure it wasn’t too much for him, Zoe. He seemed fine when we got home. I’m just sorry to have to give you this sad news when we’re all so happy for you . . . with the baby and everything . . . Yes, yes, in time . . . last night’s dinner will be a very precious memory for Virginia. For all of us, I’m sure. We’ll keep in touch. Yes, darling. Love to Mac.’
Knowing that Liz would also keep an eye on her mother, Bella tried to get on with one or two jobs about the property. The police took their father’s body to the medical centre in Dirranbilla, where a doctor confirmed that he had died of a cardiac arrest. There was nothing anyone could have done.
The day dragged on.
Liz rang the airlines to put off her return flight to London until after the funeral. Luke arrived, devastated and as numb as everyone else.
Word spread like wildfire through the district and the neighbours started telephoning.
Whoever was handiest to the phone took the call, noting the person’s name on a sheet of paper beside the phone. Bella was adding Nancy Hedges’s name to the list when she saw a name that had been added earlier in the day in her mother’s round, loopy script.
Ga
be Mitchell.
Thud.
When had he called?
She was tempted to ring straight back, but given all the awkwardness that lingered between them, she went searching for her mother first, preferring to suss out Gabe’s mood before she returned his call. She found her mother in her bedroom, not resting, but sitting on the carpeted floor with Gus beside her, breaking her no-dogs-in-the-house rule for the first time in Bella’s memory.
The big blanket box at the end of the bed was open and there was a photo album in her lap.
‘Hey, Mum,’ Bella said gently from the doorway.
Her mother gave a vague smile and turned back to the album. ‘Pete never really changed,’ she said. ‘He never went bald or very grey or grew too many wrinkles.’ She touched a fingertip to a photograph. ‘I thought this one might be nice for the order of service.’
Bella nodded, not sure she could handle talk of funerals or photos of her father looking handsome and youthful.
‘What do you think, Bella?’
Bella came forward and stood looking down at the snapshot of her dad when he was about fifty. Tall and suntanned with thick, dark hair, his teeth flashed white as he offered the camera his familiar, warm grin.
The thought that she would never see that smile again almost felled her. ‘It’s great, Mum. It’s a perfect choice.’
With a satisfied nod, her mother carefully slipped the photo from its place, leaving a pale rectangle on the album’s page.
‘You don’t have to be too organised just yet though, do you?’ Bella said. ‘We don’t even have a definite time for the funeral.’
‘I need to keep busy, Belle.’ Her mother rose a little stiffly to her feet. ‘Now, were you after something?’
‘Um – yes.’ She tried to sound casual. ‘I – ah – noticed on the phone list that Gabe Mitchell rang.’
‘Yes, he did. There’ve been so many calls. Everyone’s been so kind and thoughtful.’
‘So Gabe’s home again?’
Her mother frowned. ‘I guess so. Has he been away?’
‘He went to see his mother in Noosa. Did he know about Dad?’
‘Yes, that’s why he rang.’ Her mother looked down at the photo she was holding. ‘It’s true about bad news travelling fast, isn’t it?’
‘What did he say?’
‘Who, dear?’
It wasn’t easy to be patient. ‘Gabe.’
‘Oh, you know . . . sympathy . . . ’ Crossing to her glass-topped dressing table, her mother set the photograph of her husband on the smooth surface, carefully weighing it down with a china ornament, a small boy with a fishing rod.
Bella looked around her, saw Gus, dreadfully forlorn, with his head on his paws, poor darling. She saw her father’s tartan slippers tucked under the bed and his favourite jacket hanging on a hook behind the door. A folded copy of the North Queensland Register sat on his bedside table, the shirt and trousers he’d worn last night were still draped over the back of a chair.
So much evidence that he’d been alive till just a few short hours ago. How could her mum bear it? How could she stay so calm?
‘I’m glad Peter came home,’ her mother said, watching her. ‘At least he had these last few days here and he was so perfectly happy.’ Her lips trembled as she tried to smile. ‘It’s probably better to leave a party while you’re still having a good time.’
‘That’s––’ Bella struggled to sound just as calm. ‘That’s a great way to look at it, Mum.’
Her mother nodded, but suddenly she looked very frail and exhausted.
She looked up at Bella. ‘Are you going to return Gabe’s call?’
Bella blinked at the abrupt change of subject. What she really needed right now was Gabe’s strong arms around her, her face pressed into the warm, comforting solidness of his chest. She needed physical evidence that he was alive and strong and young and well.
And wanting her.
Had she given up that right?
She longed to know why he’d rushed to Noosa. Longed to have the conversation they’d put on hold. There was so much they had to sort out. So much she had to explain, if Gabe was still interested in listening to her. Yet, with her father gone, it felt exceptionally self-centred to be worrying about her love life.
And when it came to talking about her father’s death and her grief, there was so little to say . . .
Gabe knew it all. He’d been in this dark place. And the circumstances that had taken his father were so much more unexpected and shocking. Now Bella understood how Gabe had felt. She really understood. The scary question was – had her most important life lesson come too late?
Gabe was in the shower when the phone rang, so he almost missed it. A sixth sense warned him to pull his head out of the stream of water and his heart gave a crazy kick when he heard the shrill summons.
It had to be Bella.
Snapping off the tap, he grabbed a towel and hurried through the house, dripping and naked, almost slipping on the bare wooden floorboards. ‘Hello? Redman Downs.’
‘Hi, Gabe, it’s Bella.’
Thank God. ‘Hey. Thanks for ringing back.’ He took a breath to steady himself. ‘Belle, I was devastated to hear about Peter.’
‘Thanks.’
She sounded quiet, understandably dampened down by sorrow and his heart ached for her, but now that she was on the other end of the line, what could he say? At times like this, words were so damned inadequate.
‘You know how much I liked him. He was an amazing man. The best.’
Even as he said this, Gabe remembered all the messages he’d received when his father died. The heartfelt sympathy had simply bounced off the armour that he’d drawn over his grief. ‘I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you, Belle. I wish there was something I could do.’
‘Thanks, Gabe.’
‘You’ll let me know, won’t you? Sing out if there’s any way I can help. Anything at all.’
He knew this offer was ironic, considering the way he’d kept Bella’s well-meant gestures at arm’s length after his father’s death.
‘I didn’t know it could feel this bad,’ she said in a small voice.
Gabe swallowed. He was desperate to hold her.
‘I should have understood . . . before . . . when you were going through this, but I didn’t get it.’ Her voice was scratchy, high-pitched, losing control. ‘I couldn’t.’
I wouldn’t let you try . . .
To Gabe’s horror, he felt tears rising and he pinched the bridge of his nose to stop them. ‘Bella, be gentle with yourself, okay?’
‘Gentle?’
‘If I have any advice, that’s it. There’s no point in beating yourself up about . . . anything. Just be there for your mother. And Luke. And be patient with them, with yourself.’
‘Yeah. Okay.’ She let out a heavy sigh.
‘Keep in touch?’
‘Okay. Thanks, Gabe.’
There was a beat of silence in which they might have said other things. Gabe wished he could quiz her about the Frenchman and he wanted to tell her his news. His patience was at bursting point, but this wasn’t the right moment to talk of such things.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence continued.
After Bella hung up she stood by the phone, feeling a strange mix of comfort and loss. It was wonderfully reassuring to hear Gabe’s voice again. He sounded different somehow . . . but she couldn’t quite pinpoint his mood.
She looked out through the kitchen window to the pitch-black night. The air was thick and oppressive, adding its weight to her heavy spirits. She felt lonely. Her mother had taken a sleeping pill and gone to bed, her aunt was in the shower and Luke was in the study using the computer.
She thought about Gabe, also alone at Redman Downs, and she thought about their conversation.
No point in beating yourself up about . . . anything.
Was she reading too much into this or had Gabe offered her some kind of peace pipe? She was s
till trying to decide what he’d meant when Luke came into the kitchen.
‘Would you like a cuppa?’ she asked him. ‘Tea? Hot chocolate?’
Luke shook his head and just stood there for a moment or two, looking unbearably sad. Bella crossed the room, slipped her arms around him and she could feel their mutual loss wrapping enfolding them.
A low rumble sounded, somewhere above the homestead roof.
‘You hear what I hear?’
‘Sounded like thunder.’
Almost immediately Gus, the blue heeler, let out a whine from the verandah.
Bella opened the flyscreen door and let him into the kitchen and rubbed his ears. ‘You never did like thunder, did you, you old softie? It’s okay, mate. I’ll look after you now. Promise.’
Another drum roll boomed overhead and through the window, Bella caught a distant flash. ‘Look! Lightning!’
Luke was close behind her. ‘I’m sure I can smell rain.’
Even as he said this, Bella’s nostrils caught the unmistakable metallic tang of dry earth becoming damp. Gus’s tail thumped loudly on the timber floorboards as if he understood that despite his instinctive dislike of thunder, humans were always excited about rain.
‘Looks like the first of the summer storms is finally on its way,’ Bella said.
Luke’s eyes were bright and his smile slanted crookedly. ‘Reckon Dad sent it?’
She nodded, fighting tears. ‘Course he did.’
38.
The outside of the little white wooden church in Gidgee Springs was washed clean by the summer storms that had come three nights in a row. On the day of the funeral the building was packed, with many people having to stand at the sides and at the back.
Bella and Luke sat either side of Virginia, ready to support her if she needed them, but she remained wonderfully strong. Liz, watching them from her seat at the old organ, was pleased that Zoe and Mac were sitting in the same pew as the Fairburns. Poor Zoe looked very pale and shattered.
Virginia had asked Liz if she’d like to speak at the service, but she hadn’t trusted herself to remain composed in front of an entire congregation and she’d volunteered to play the organ instead, choosing music Peter had loved. She’d gone through the sheet music in the piano stool at Mullinjim, finding hymns their mother had played right here in this church when they were small.
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