Her Australian Summer: Corazon Books Vintage Romance (novella)

by Jean McConnell

  Her Australian Summer

  Jean McConnell

  Copyright © The Estate of Jean McConnell 2016

  This edition first published by Corazon Books

  (Wyndham Media Ltd)

  27, Old Gloucester Street, London WC1N 3AX

  www.greatstorieswithheart.com

  The author has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, organisations and events are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organisations and events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Cover artwork: images © faestock and Peterfz30 / Shutterstock

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  The Ghost of Fiddler’s Hill by Sheila Burns

  Doctor Called David by Sheila Burns

  Dr Irresistible M.D. by Sheila Burns

  The Eyes of Dr Karl by Sheila Burns

  Doctor and Debutante by Barbara Blackburn

  and many more coming very soon.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Preview: Doctor and Debutante by Barbara Blackburn

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  Chapter One

  It was such a small thing that set her off. And so unlikely. A few moments ago, Laura had entered the waiting room, perched herself optimistically on the edge of a low armchair and flipped open a copy of an old magazine. She had come across a cartoon that had set her laughing ‒ and found herself in tears.

  ‘Mr. Montague is free now.’

  The girl appeared like a rabbit out of a hat, and held the door open.

  Her hair was piled up in two bunches, like bunny ears, and she smiled toothily. The giggle rose up again in Laura’s throat. It was as if Uncle Jim was taking a hand in things. He had always made her laugh. From the earliest days of her childhood, before he went away, and then whenever he visited, he had brought fun with him. Now in this gloomily panelled building, his spirit seemed to be hovering near her, nudging her funny-bone, and determined to keep her cheerful. When there had been half a world between them, Laura had always felt close to him, and now he was gone, curiously he seemed even closer. Certainly right this minute. Laura took out her mirror and wiped away a smudge of mascara. She’d worn her dark coat for this occasion and drawn her hair back smoothly. Business-like and determined was the image. No good spoiling it with pink eyes. She blew her nose heartily before entering the solicitor’s room, wondering what this Mr. Montague would be like.

  He rose as she entered, a small, well-polished man with shrewd eyes.

  He faced her across a large mahogany desk, and spoke greetings. His solemn manner quelled Laura’s capricious mood, but he seemed friendly enough as he talked of her uncle’s affairs, and Laura sat back and relaxed, as far as was possible on the taut leather seat of her forbidding chair.

  ‘When did you last see your uncle?’ asked the solicitor.

  ‘Six months ago,’ answered Laura. ‘He came over from Australia when my mother died. For the funeral.’

  ‘Rather a long journey for a funeral.’

  ‘He knew I had no-one else. There are no other relations.’

  ‘So it seems. We’ve advertised widely and that usually flushes out any distant relatives. Frequently in shoals! But there seems to be no-one.’

  His words brought home to Laura, more than anything else had, that she was on her own now. It seemed odd, at only twenty-three, to be the end of a family line. How quickly, at the last, things had changed.

  ‘You said that my uncle didn’t leave a Will at all?’

  ‘No. Does that surprise you?’

  ‘It does a bit. He was a very caring man, you see. He wouldn’t have wanted to cause any problems.’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘But then there was a happy-go-lucky side to his nature sometimes. Still it’s a puzzle. But if you say there isn’t one …’

  ‘Apparently not. Perhaps he realised everything would come to you as next of kin. And that’s how he wanted it.’

  ‘How do you mean ‒ everything? He wasn’t a rich man.’

  ‘No, not at all. But the proceeds of the sale of the store and the ‒’

  ‘Just a minute ‒ you mean the property has been sold?’

  ‘No, but it will be put on the market as soon as possible and I hope we won’t have to keep you waiting too long before ‒’

  ‘But I don’t want to sell it.’

  The solicitor had taken up a document and was passing it towards her. He hesitated, then replaced it in front of himself pressing it down on the desk with stiffened fingers, which he then steepled under his nose. He fixed Laura with a firm, fatherly gaze.

  ‘This shop is apparently very small and in a very small town, at the top end of Queensland.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘It’s been closed since your uncle’s death.’

  ‘I imagine so.’

  ‘It sold coral and shells and so forth, I believe. Not a very promising business prospect.’

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘Have you ever been to North Queensland?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I really do advise you to let us handle this ‒ to sell it all up for you.’

  ‘Is there any actual money coming to me?’

  ‘A little. There seem to be some sort of occasional royalties from publications.’

  ‘Yes. Uncle wrote books on marine exploration. He’d been a diver.’

  ‘Oh really?’

  ‘Is there any actual cash? Enough for my air fare?’

  ‘Oh yes indeed. And perhaps for a short stay. I see. You’d like to go out and sell it up yourself. Well, it’s possible you might get a better price ‒’

  ‘It’s not that. I want to go because ‒’ She was about to say, I want to be with Uncle Jim’s things. Just for a little while. ‘I want to go to see where my uncle lived. I should have gone before. We had a lot in common.’

  The solicitor looked at her keenly.

  ‘Give it a few day’s thought, my dear,’ he said.

  ‘I should have gone before,’ she repeated. ‘But my mother needed me. After the accident.’

  ‘What about your job? Will you be able to take extended leave?’

  ‘No. And it wouldn’t be fair, I’ll give in my notice. Just give them time to replace me, of course.’

  ‘Very well.’

  To Laura’s surprise, it took longer that she expected for her replacement to be found ‒ despite the size of the company, and it was early summer before she had the chance to get away.

  Her boss shook his head at her sadly. He had made his feelings perfectly clear. She was the only secretary he had ever had who could read his mind, he declared. Which was flattering. She was acting on a very unwise impulse in taking off to t
he other side of the world and would live to regret it, he warned. Which was discouraging. But, he added, she had better go down to Sydney if things didn’t work out and he would contact business associates there to help her ‒ maybe even arrange a job.

  That idea appealed to Laura anyway. She’d go to Queensland, stay where her uncle had spent most of his life, see the shop he’d written about in his letters, see the coast from which he’d done his marine explorations when he was a younger man, and collect up some personal reminders of the tanned, humorous man whose visits to England had always enlivened the family scene and broadened the world for her. Then she’d sell everything left and take a temporary post, that is if she could get a work permit. Or just come home again. Pick up the threads.

  A few weeks later and all the arrangements had been made. She’d put her few treasures in safe store and let the house. And that had been that.

  Pick up the threads? She knew she’d never do that again. Not possible.

  So here she was now, awaiting the last call on the tannoy to tell her which gate to go through. Going through that gate seemed like a symbol ‒ an irrevocable step out of her past and into some future that had perhaps been waiting for her without her knowing. It had seemed that she would always be living at home, looking after her mother who had been so tragically crippled and widowed on the same day. She had imagined herself travelling the short distance to and from her office daily, never venturing far because of her responsibilities. It had not been a hardship caring for her mother, who was brave and bright and shared Uncle Jim’s sense of humour. Laura played tennis and badminton with friends, and was content. There were casual boyfriends and she grew fond of one or two, but not enough to take matters further. Sometimes her mother raised the subject of marriage, and Laura knew she worried that she might be a stumbling block in Laura’s way.

  But it wasn’t so. True, some men were disconcerted by Laura’s independence ‒ she could put up a shelf or unclog a drain without turning a hair ‒ but there had been no-one whom Laura felt she could share her life with. No-one to stir her spirit.

  It was Uncle Jim who could do that. Both for Laura and her mother. His presence always filled the house with laughter and hope. Then there had been the day when he had suggested they should both come out and live with him in Australia. He had gone back, giving them time to think it over. And they had discussed it and taken their time to decide and taken their time to work out the practicalities. And time had ticked by slyly. Uncle Jim’s letters had grown more pressing. Laura and her mother had put their house up for sale. Then the older woman had become ill and the boardhad been taken down. In three months, the illness took its toll, but in all that time they went on planning their move to Australia. Laura saw that it mattered to her mother to think of a sunny future, but when she eased the thin shoulders higher on the pillow and squeezed the frail hand, Laura was heartsick, and knew they’d left it too late.

  ‘Now you must come,’ Uncle Jimhad said to Laura, at the funeral. But the will had gone out of Laura at that time, and she had said, ‘Maybe later on.’

  Respecting her grief, her uncle had not pressed matters. But as he left her he had hugged her to him and said, ‘Remember Laura, it’s up to you. Life is always up to you. It strews in your path a wealth of opportunities. Take as many of them as you can. There’s great strength in you, Laura.’ He smiled. ‘You get it from my side of the family! And you’ve a lot of living to do!’

  He himself had always worked and played hard and enjoyed his every moment and he had died as he might have wanted ‒ suddenly and while sailing in a dinghy race. It had happened just as Laura had begun seriously thinking again about going out to see him. So she had gone on with her plans. She knew she had to. And at once her heart had lightened.She began to savour things again.

  She’d do as her uncle had always wanted her to. Get out there and take chances. She was only sorry he would never know.

  With a start she heard her flight called. She gathered up her hand luggage. In it were the comfort aids given her by her friends ‒ the eye-shade, the neck-cushion, the slippers, the books. As she settled into her window-seat, she waved towards the viewing-tower. Whether they could see her she doubted, but it had been kind of them to see her off, and she would always remember the little group watching her depart. Their faces had been smiling but anxious. It had touched her that they cared. But her step had been jaunty.

  As the jets roared and they taxied along the runway, she felt rather less than jaunty. Her reflection was mirrored in the double-glass. A face pale with excitement, the dark hair neatly cut for convenience, brown eyes alight beneath their long lashes, a t-shirt and jeans for comfortable snoozing. Her whole body was trembling.

  Mistaking it for fear, a pleasant woman sitting beside her patted her hand comfortingly. The juddering of the plane ceased and it rose into the air, effortlessly upward, flying through the clouds into the blue and gold above …

  What was in store? Meals and films and casual chats with the pleasant woman and her husband. Restless sleep ‒ the pleasant woman’s cheek on her husband’s shoulder, his on her head, and Laura grateful for her neck-pillow. Changing of planes, then meals and films and casual chat again. All the time, home getting further away and the strange lands drawing nearer. And then what was in store?

  Chapter Two

  It was at dawn that the plane banked steeply into Cairns Airport. Laura looked from the window and saw the dark blue sea below, and the circlets of white foam where the coral reefs lay breaking the surface. It was here Uncle Jim had dived for marine finds and sought out the treasures of wrecks. She remembered the curious gifts he had brought home when he visited.

  They landed. The pleasant woman and her husband wished Laura good luck, then hurtled into the arms of their waiting relatives.

  The small town of Port Duncan lay some way north of Cairns and Laura had been advised to hire transport. She had also been advised to stay over in Cairns to get her bearings but she was too anxious to get on.

  She gathered all her luggage together and wheeled it off to locate the car hire desk. Paperwork completed, she was handed the key and shown out to the car park to her vehicle. Laura was thankful to see it was a make she was familiar with and even more so to learn that the Australian rules of the road were the same as at home.

  Left to her own devices, she loaded her car, then bought some sandwiches and a carton of drink from a nearby stand. She was ready for take-off! She glanced around to check the way was clear, then put the car in reverse and backed up slowly. At least, she meant to go slowly, but in fact shot back rather faster than intended. There was a jolt as she hit something.

  The surprise was greater than the impact. She was sure there had been nothing behind her. Clearly there had been, and she heard the sound of a wild oath to prove it. What a beginning! Laura climbed out of the car with sinking heart.

  Behind her car she found an Estate. They were bumper to bumper. It must have backed out of its place at the same moment that she had. Laura was anxiously examining for damage.

  ‘Where’s the fire?’ said a voice beside her. Laura looked up to find a remarkably tall, husky man, hands on his hips, frowning down at her. He was probably less than thirty, but his regular features were given a maturity by the firm jaw and a weathered tan that clearly owed less to the beach than to working under a relentless sun. He regarded Laura with a pair of intensely blue eyes, that right now were sparking ominously.

  ‘I really am sorry,’ said Laura. ‘I’ve never driven this car before and it responded a bit smartly!’

  With relief she saw the man’s face soften. ‘You’re not an Aussie,’ he said.

  ‘No. I’ve just arrived from England.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘And I’ve just hired this car,’ she said, ruefully.

  ‘Great start,’ said the Australian, and he grinned. It was as if the sun had come out. He pushed his wide-brimmed hat back on his head.

  ‘I do hope I’ve not
done too much damage.’

  ‘Lets have a look-see.’ He crouched down and peered about. ‘Anyway, I didn’t see you either. Takes two to tango.’

  Laura knew she had been the real culprit and that he was just being nice. She had the impression that it came easier to him to be nice than not.

  ‘I think we’re in luck,’ he said. ‘I don’t see anything more than a scuff. Just check your rear lights.’

  Certainly nothing seemed at all amiss with either vehicle.

  Laura was deeply thankful. All this and to fall into the hands of an attractive stranger as well. She wondered if all Australians were going to be like this. Not possible, of course. This one was rather special anywhere in the world. Right now he was standing disturbingly close, with a map spread out, giving her helpful advice about her route.

  ‘There you go then,’ he said at last. ‘Take care of yourself.’

  He opened her car door for her. Laura shook his hand.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I feel I can cope now.’

  He looked her up and down admiringly. ‘No sweat,’ he said. ‘You’ll do all right.’ And he lifted his hat in old-fashioned manner.

  They smiled at each other, pausing, as if there was something else to say. There wasn’t, of course, and he turned at last and went back to his car. He ran it out of Laura’s way and she backed out and round smoothly ‒ even managing a casual wave to him as she drove off.

  Armed with his words of advice she found her way out of Cairns and on to her road. It ran along the seashore ‒ a rugged coast with palm trees and little golden beaches, sun-drenched and idyllic and quite empty of human beings.

  It was warm now and the road was busier ‒ in that she passed another car or truck occasionally. Soon, she ran the car off the road on to a headland and stopped to eat her sandwiches. The waves swirled in gently and a single boat was chugging along far out to sea. She felt wonderfully comfortable and at ease. She remembered Mr. Montague’s concerned eyes, and she smiled. Except for the fact that there is nobody about, I could be on holiday in Cornwall! she thought. She checked her route again and backed the car round to continue on her way, humming to herself.