Her Australian Summer: Corazon Books Vintage Romance (novella)

by Jean McConnell

  Five minutes later she passed on the roadside a dead kangaroo.

  Maybe it wasn’t exactly like Cornwall.

  The beautiful coast road went on for two hours. Then there were little towns. And at last the route broke inland into the hills, then sharply back down to Port Duncan.

  Tropical plants and shrubs pressed in lushly around scattered bungalows. The main street consisted of no more than twenty detached one-storey stores, their jutting canopies forming such dark shadows against the bright sun that Laura could not see their wares. She drove slowly down towards the sea, where several small buildings clustered around the quay. It was here she knew that her shop must be.

  Her shop.

  She recognised it at once from photographs that Uncle Jim had sent. She recognised his name on the frontage. She had expected to feel a pang when she actually stopped the car outside the shop.

  What she did not expect was to find it open for business!

  She sat at the wheel for a moment. She could see the window display of coral and shell trinkets, and somewhere within a customer being dealt with by a dim figure behind the counter.

  Who could it be?

  Laura waited until the customer departed, then she got out of the car and walked across the baked earth path and up the steps to the doorway. On the threshold she hesitated to let her eyes adjust to the contrast of light. She felt bewildered and ‒ yes ‒ angry.

  She stepped in.

  The woman behind the counter was small, with greying hair piled up at the back of her head.

  ‘Need any help?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, I do. I’d like to know ‒ I’m Laura Gardner and this shop was my uncle’s ‒’

  ‘Your uncle! Jim? Oh, I’m so very glad to meet you!’

  The older woman smiled and came round the counter towards Laura, holding out her hands.

  Laura felt her anger disappear at once, but the puzzle remained.

  ‘Why is the shop open? I’ve inherited it and the solicitor said it was shut.’

  ‘I see. Yes. Jim left it to you, did he?’

  ‘Actually he didn’t leave it to me. But there’s no Will and I’m the next of kin.’

  ‘So. Well, I expect it was what he would have wanted. He often spoke of you. I’ll tell you why I’ve opened it. And I hope you’ll understand. I used to help him here, you see. And he let me sell my shell work.’

  Laura glanced round and became aware of a display of beautiful shell jewellery.

  ‘And we set up the marine exhibition together.’

  ‘You’re Beth! Of course. Uncle Jim spoke of you in his letters.’

  ‘Did he? Did he?’

  ‘It didn’t occur to me you’d be here in the shop.’

  ‘I had the keys. And they seemed to think it was a good idea. I’ve kept the books very carefully. You can see them if you like.’

  ‘Not right now. I’m sure it’s all O.K.’

  ‘Would you like to see around?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The woman called Beth lead the way through a door to a large shed wherein items relating to the sea had been set up. Monster shells, giant coral, ancient anchors, barnacled cargo from wrecks, old photographs, models, strange and exotic stuffed fish, and scenes depicting shipboard life.

  Laura traced with her finger one of the many little descriptive cards, written in her uncle’s hand. She felt very near to him again. When he could no longer dive, this collection had become his hobby. He had written so much about it that she found nothing surprising.

  The sea could be heard lapping nearby.

  ‘I’d like to go upstairs,’ said Laura.

  ‘Of course. Back through here.’

  They returned to the shop and mounted a rough wooden staircase to a large room with a window one end that looked over the bay. A door opened on to a bathroom, and through a bead curtain was a small kitchen. Most of the walls were covered with crammed bookshelves. Laura glanced round and the woman recognised her expression.

  ‘I kept it dusted round. Have done for a long time. Since Jim’s wife died. We were all good friends for many years. Dorrie was a good sort.’

  Laura searched her memory. Dorrie had never visited, because she was afraid of flying. Jim had always come alone. Dorrie was a shadowy figure to Laura, and even as she looked round the room now, there was nothing of the woman there. This was a man’s dwelling. Uncle Jim’s home.

  A photograph hung over a desk. It showed Jim as a laughing young man, standing beside another ‒ both of them in wetsuits and struggling to support an encrusted cannon.

  ‘Hi up there!’

  A man’s voice called up the stairs. The two women started.

  ‘Customers,’ said Beth guiltily, and hurried downstairs.

  Laura followed, slowly.

  A man was standing in the shop. He looked towards Laura.

  ‘G’day! I’m glad to meet you, Miss Gardner. I’m Kyle Mason, Kyle! John Montague wrote me. Said I was to take care of you.’

  Laura had reached the bottom of the stairs now, and he towered over her. Most of the men out here seemed to grow tall, with strong brown legs, shown off by their habit of wearing shorts against the hot weather. Kyle Mason, standing before her, was a good example of the vigorous health of those who lived in this part of the world. His shirt was of pale blue linen ‒ the shorts a darker, navy blue. He was in his later twenties, Laura reckoned, and had an air of confidence and the trappings of success. Deeply tanned, his skin was smooth. His hair was blond and flecked with highlights that in England would have come from a bottle, but out here seemed common to many who lived under this burnishing sunlight. A ring winked on his little finger. A dark opal, set in gold.

  He smiled at Laura warmly and held out his hand. Laura offered hers and he shook it.

  ‘Kyle is the local property agent around here,’ said Beth.

  The man shot Beth a glance, then his smile widened.

  ‘Righto!’ he said. ‘Across the way there.’ He gestured vaguely towards the road. ‘Saw you arrive. No mistaking! Well now, I’ve fixed you up at a hotel. Not the Savoy, of course, but ‒’

  ‘Oh!’ said Laura.

  ‘Wait,’ said Beth. ‘You can stay with me, Laura. I’d be very happy. I’m on my own and I’ve plenty of room.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Laura. ‘But I shall stay right here. Upstairs ‒ in my uncle’s place.’

  ‘You won’t find that great shakes,’ said the man. ‘It’s not air-conditioned and the plumbing belongs down in the museum.’

  But Beth looked pleased.

  ‘But if you’re set on it,’ said Kyle, ‘just let me know when you’ve had enough!’

  ‘She’d better rest up now,’ said Beth.

  ‘You do that,’ said Kyle, squeezing Laura’s hand again. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow and show you around. Right?’

  ‘That would be fine,’ said Laura. ‘The flight’s beginning to catch up with me!’

  ‘Doesn’t show,’ said Kyle with a friendly grin.

  Then he nodded to Beth and departed.

  ‘It’s perfectly comfortable upstairs, you’ll find,’ said Beth. ‘And while you’re resting I’ll get some provisions in for you.’

  ‘Thanks. That’s kind of you.’ Laura was suddenly quite exhausted.

  She fumbled in her purse and gave Beth a handful of notes. ‘Get ‒ oh the usual things.’

  She trailed back upstairs and took off her dress.

  She just managed to slip under the coverlet of the bed before she collapsed into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Three

  Quite early next morning, Laura went swimming in the sparkling sea, then had her breakfast on the verandah, looking across the bay. Beth had stocked the fridge for her, as promised.

  She was just giving her hair a final towel when she heard the shop door below being unlocked. She went down, calling, ‘Good morning, Beth. Thanks for the stores!’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Beth.

  Kyle appeared in the door
way.

  ‘Saw you opening up,’ he said. ‘How you doing, Laura?’

  ‘I slept wonderfully. And I had a dip and ‒’

  ‘A dip?’ Kyle frowned. ‘You take care. There are jellyfish in these parts. Nasty fellers that can kill you. Didn’t you see the notice?!’

  ‘I didn’t look.’

  ‘Am I right, Beth?’

  ‘Yes, that’s true.’

  Laura looked from one to the other. Suddenly the crystal water at her doorstep seemed less enticing.

  ‘But they’re not around at this time of year,’ added Beth, with a sharp look at Kyle. ‘Don’t scare her.’

  ‘All right if I call for you in an hour, Laura?’ said Kyle. ‘We’ll go walkabout.’

  ‘Great,’ said Laura.

  As she turned to go upstairs, she glimpsed Beth’s face. She was looking displeased.

  Laura wondered if she had expected her to help in the shop that day. Well, plenty of time for that.

  For the next few days, Kyle drove her to places of interest. They took a boat on a slow innocent-looking river, where she was warned to watch out for crocodiles.

  Laura realised how easily she might have strolled along its pleasant banks ‒ even swum in it ‒ not recognising these long gnarled logs for what they were.

  They visited a sugar factory where steel fangs clawed savagely at the sugar cane and the molasses poured out in a murky mass. They went through dusty little towns where Aborigine families sat under massive trees, seeming to be looking into the distance ‒ as if seeing something visible only to them.

  ‘They wont hurt you,’ said Kyle.

  Laura looked at him in astonishment. It had never occurred to her that they might.

  It was nice of him to be so caring and protective, and she asked him to come to supper. She asked Beth too. And she took the trouble to make a good meal for them.

  But it was a mistake. There was something not quite right between these two. She sensed it ‒ despite their apparent friendliness. At the end of the evening they both rose to leave.

  ‘You did a great job on that weird old stove, Laura,’ said Kyle. Laura laughed.

  She expected Kyle to walk Beth home as her bungalow was not far enough for a car drive. Instead, he wished her goodnight and watched her walk off. Then he lingered on the porch.

  He perched on a rail, which brought him nearer to Laura’s level. He put a hand over hers.

  ‘Are you enjoying yourself, Laura?’

  ‘Very much.’

  ‘Nice break for you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How does it feel to inherit all this!’ He encompassed the building with a mocking gesture. ‘Not what you expected, I reckon.’

  ‘I didn’t expect anything.’

  ‘Well, don’t let it worry you. The guttering is not actually dangerous. I’ve had it checked. It’ll hold for a while yet. It could be done at the same time as the roof. If you want it done, that is.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought. I suppose ‒’

  ‘No rush. Especially if you’re going to sell it off. Best leave the problem to the next feller! Anyway, I’m around whenever you need me. Property is my business.’

  Laura was silent. What was he trying to tell her? That Uncle Jim’s place was best sold off before it involved her in a lot of expense? She resolved to take a close look at the structure tomorrow.

  ‘Can I see you at the weekend?’

  ‘No, Kyle. Beth’s taking me up to the Tablelands. To the Atherton Show. There’s a rodeo, she says.’

  ‘Of course. Righto.’

  But he looked disappointed. He drew her hand to his chest and pulled her smoothly to him. Taken off balance, Laura found herself encircled in his arms.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he said. His face came towards her.

  Laura pulled away gently. He was looking at her quizzically.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said, and ducked off into the house. She shut the door and locked it, listening as his footsteps retreated. Her heart was beating fast, but from what cause she wasn’t certain.

  The next morning, Laura pulled on some old clothes, found a ladder and clambered up around the roof. She cleared leaves from the gutters and experimented with a water-can till the downpipes worked. She found a few small items that needed repair. Rusted hinges ‒ paintwork peeled ‒ a bit of rot ‒ all the sort of things she had been obliged to attend to in her mother’s house. Nothing serious that she could see. And she wondered again at Kyle’s attitude. It seemed he was more worried about the condition of the place than she was herself.

  It was rather nice to think that here was a young man who was actually inviting her to lean on him. A new and pleasant experience! Most of her former boyfriends had found her domestic commitments rather a drag.

  It was a long drive to Atherton, through black mountains and up to the plains. Beth was driving them and looked excited. She had been born in the Tablelands and looked forward to seeing old friends at the Show.

  She was not disappointed. On all sides she was hailed and stopped for a chat, which gave Laura a chance to take in the cheerful scene. There were tents with local produce, sheds with animals waiting to be judged, and a few roundabouts and old-fashioned booths, proclaiming bearded ladies and other delights. But the main attraction was the rodeo and this was already in full swing. Laura could hear applause coming from the crowds in the stands surrounding the arena. A constant stream of people went to and fro to fetch ice-cream and meat pies, and cans of beer.

  Laura hoped they’d join them soon, but Beth had been delayed by yet another friend. This time clearly a very dear one, for Beth rushed towards him and he opened his arms and swung her off her feet in a great hug.

  ‘Laura! Come over here and meet Nate. I’ve known this rascal since he was a tot. And a more mischievous ‒’ Beth shook the man then patted him fondly. ‘But he grew out of it!’

  Grew was the word, for the man was inches over six feet as he stood silhouetted in the sunlight, shaking his head at Beth’s remark.

  ‘Yes you did, son,’ said Beth. ‘And I hear you are managing just fine!’ She turned to Laura. ‘One of the best farmers around these parts.’

  ‘Will you cut it out, you old ratbag, and introduce the young lady.’

  Beth threw back her head and burst out laughing.

  ‘This is Laura,’ she announced.

  As the man’s hard hand enveloped hers and he raised his wide-brimmed hat, Laura gasped. Where had she seen this man before? Perhaps in a dream ‒ the dream of a man who could stir her heart. No, nothing like that. She really did know this man.

  In the same instant, the man himself gave a short laugh of amazement.

  ‘We’ve met before,’ he said. ‘I remember you. Cairns Airport. I’d been arranging to airfreight a bull.’

  ‘The car park!’

  ‘You were driving backwards at speed.’

  They both laughed with pleasure.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ said Beth. ‘This is Jim’s niece, Nate. Come over to collect up his things. She’s inherited the property.’

  ‘Inherited the property?’

  The man shot a quick look at Beth, Again something about this puzzled Laura. But then the man smiled at her again and it was such an open, welcoming smile, that she felt entirely at ease. She could hardly believe her luck, meeting this man again who had made that fleeting impression on her, then gone out of her life seemingly for ever.

  She was aware he was staring at her and chuckling delightedly. She was glad she had put on a simple cotton dress, and not got herself up in anything too fancy. She felt this fitted into the setting and had it confirmed by the approval in his eyes. She had already acquired a peachy glow to her skin and she was wearing her little linen hat against today’s sun.

  ‘So what do you plan to do with the old place?’ asked Nate.

  Laura hesitated, and it seemed to her that both Nate and Beth were poised to hear her answer out of something more than politeness.

  ‘I don�
�t know yet,’ she said. It was true.

  Nate nodded towards the arena. ‘Going in here?’

  Beth flourished their tickets.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll find you a shady seat.’

  Making for an entrance, they passed a small group of young men in high-heeled boots and fancy cowboy hats, and older men in stockmen hats and jeans, gathered round a mechanical saddle, atop of which sat a small boy. At the touch of a lever, the saddle rolled and bucked in simulation of a wild beast. Laura paused and peered between the people who were urging the boy on. The speed increased.

  Bravely the lad rode the saddle, clutching at the pomel with one hand and cleaving the air with the other for balance. A sudden swirl, and the boy was hurled off.

  Laura joined the others in applauding the little chap’s grit.

  She looked round, her eyes sparkling, and found Nate close behind her, smiling at her enjoyment.

  ‘Wait till you see the real thing,’ said Beth.

  They followed Nate as he led the way ‒ the crowds parting before him ‒ into the stands. They made themselves comfortable and Nate presented them with cans of icy Coke that he’d mysteriously acquired en route.

  Laura made room for him between herself and Beth and was disappointed when he shook his head.

  ‘See you later,’ he said as he strode off down the wooden steps to the entrance.

  Laura wondered if he would see them later. It seemed unlikely in all the crowd. But she hoped so. Very much.

  At this point a clown came running into the ring, and began to entertain with some inept juggling. An Official pursued him and ‒ in pantomime ‒ ordered him out. The clown replied with rude gestures and the Official threw up his hands and left him to it. At which point a bull was let loose and the clown did a spectacular leap into a nearby barrel for safety.

  This preamble began the rough riding event. Laura watched the riders lowered on to the penned animals, which were then let loose, with the rider endeavouring to stay on the beast’s back for the required few seconds. After that, if he was still atop, he was plucked off by a horseman who swooped by and set him down at a safe distance from flailing hoofs.