Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she felt like a child next to this man. He wasn’t that much older but he seemed so much more together. She was a mess. A hot, tangled mess of a girl. Fuck. What was she doing here? And now she had to reply, but she didn’t know what to say.
“Thank you for coming this morning,” he said. “I know it’s Saturday and you girls like to throw on a swimsuit and head to the springs.” He smiled knowingly, as though imagining the sight. “But I like to show some of the new recruits my greenhouse. Many have never even seen an orchid, if you can believe it.” He moved closer, but all Hayley could think about was that word ‘some’. She had been chosen out of many. Why?
“This is a Moth Orchid, or Phalaenopsis. One of the most popular varieties. The flowers resemble a moth in flight. That’s how they got their name.” He steered her away from the white and pink flower to another, with pretty little yellow petals. “We call this the Dancing Lady Orchid, or Oncidium. The sprays of flowers are so intense that the plant often can’t hold its own weight and they sag downwards. I find that incredibly sad, that a flower can’t support its own beauty. Luckily, this one has me to help it grow.”
“I love that colour,” Hayley said, relaxing as she leaned in to inhale the scent.
Tate smiled wider to reveal his white teeth “It suits you. The yellow reflects off your gorgeous golden skin.”
A shiver ran down Hayley’s back. The good kind that tingles on its way, that sends butterflies into your stomach, that prickles your flesh with excitement.
“I don’t normally do this.” Tate wide smile turned into a mischievous grin, making Hayley feel as though she was in on a secret. “But I think you need this.” He picked up a pair of secateurs from a trolley next to the plants and carefully, very carefully pruned a flower from the Dancing Lady Orchid. Then he gently placed the flower in Hayley’s hair, tucking it above her ear. “Beautiful. You’re just beautiful, Hayley.”
That slight lean forward and the touch of his fingers against her skin made her heart pound. There was no denying that he was the most attractive man she had ever seen outside of her television screen, and she couldn’t believe he had singled her out of everyone else at the farm. She felt her knees weaken as he showed her around the rest of the greenhouse. Her mind couldn’t stop focusing on the moment his skin brushed hers and the magnetism she’d felt emanating from him. She was gone. Completely gone. Like a puddle on the floor. And Hayley never fell for guys like this. She’d never had the goosebumps and the tingles and the inability to focus on anyone but the guy. Her boyfriends in the past had usually progressed from a few drunken fumbles to a full-on relationship without any real fanfare or knee-weakening action. Tate was different. He was a man, and when he graced her with his focus, she felt like the only girl in the world.
“I think it’s perfect,” Hayley said, turning back to the orchid on the trolley, but thinking more about the man next to her.
“Nothing is perfect,” Tate replied. “You have to look hard to find the imperfections, but they’re always there.”
“Really?”
He stood behind her and leaned over her shoulder as he pointed to the centre of an orchid flower in front of them. There, next to its stamen, was a tiny tear in the petal.
“I didn’t even see it,” Hayley remarked.
“That’s because the bright colour distracted you,” he replied. “Come on. I want to show you everything we do here.”
As they made their way through the greenhouse, he talked to her like she was an adult, and that was new for her. She was used to being pushed and prodded around by her parents, always kept in a little bubble to make sure she did the right thing. Go to school. Do your work. Pass your exams. Thailand hadn’t been the remedy to all of that structure, but it had led her away from it. And now she was here, with a man who treated her so differently to anyone else. Tate spent time explaining the different orchids to her, but not in a patronising way, more in an enthusiast’s way. He even showed her his lab, which was nestled away in a large building attached to the greenhouse.
“This is where we extract chemicals from the orchids,” he explained. “It’s a lengthy process using solvents, which I won’t go into.” Tate stopped to nod and wave at an assistant through the glass. “But those chemicals are then put into perfumes and so on.” The corners of his lips rose quickly then dropped, and his gaze moved away.
Hayley felt like she should be paying attention, because she’d been so intrigued by the laboratory and what went on inside. She’d been so suspicious of the place, and she was still interested, but Tate had blinded her with his charm, and now she just wanted to be back in the greenhouse with him, smelling the orchids. But she did force herself to concentrate on what she was seeing. There was a stack of large glass bottles wrapped in cellophane in one of the corners. There were two lab workers, one male and one female. She didn’t get close enough to see their faces because Tate informed her that they couldn’t go further due to possible contamination. The lab workers wore goggles and blue gloves and held test tubes.
“Is this your passion?” Hayley asked. “I mean, I know you have the mango farm, but you seem to really love the orchids. So is this what you’re most passionate about?”
“I think it is, yes,” Tate said. “Because it’s exciting. I’m creating something new and original. Something the world hasn’t seen yet.” He paused. “I know it’s silly to feel that way about perfume, but I think you’ll agree with me when you learn more about what goes on here.”
“I’d love to learn more.”
Tate wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I can’t wait to show you. But it’ll take time. You need to settle in first.”
21
Gemma
Gemma had been stuck with Freddy again all morning, assigned to weeding. Tate liked the grounds pristine.
She wiped sweat from her forehead and where it trickled along her nose. Today the farm seemed sandwiched between layers of blue sky and red earth, being cooked as if in a grill. The temperature soared even higher than yesterday.
Freddy shovelled dirt to cover the holes left after they’d pulled out the bellyache bush. Ellie was supervising, occasionally taking loads of it away in a wheelbarrow. Gemma was glad to see two of the supervisors doing some work. She’d been shocked to discover last night that Freddy was one of the farm’s leaders. He seemed like a large, naughty child.
Clay had come up behind her three hours ago and put his arms around her, and she’d reacted as if she had been stung. She told him she’d heard everything he’d said to Eoin. She hadn’t seen him since.
She hacked at the bellyache bush. The stubborn weed had purple leaves and was toxic to humans and livestock. Gemma thought wryly that it was giving her a bellyache just from the effort of digging it out of the ground.
Leaning on his shovel, Freddy began telling a dirty joke, snickering uncontrollably as he paused just before the punchline.
Gemma shot him a glance that was halfway between mocking and withering. “Say it and die.”
Looking cheated, Freddy dropped his mouth shut. Gemma ripped a weed from its moorings to show that she meant it.
No way I’m putting up with your lame jokes anymore, Freddy boy. You and Clay and Eoin and Ellie—you can all go to hell. Hayley and I are not children who need watching.
Where was Hayley anyway? She hadn’t seen her all morning. Ellie simply said that Hayley had been given a task to do.
It was close to midday when Gemma spotted Hayley emerging from the orchid greenhouse. Hayley’s cheeks were flushed pink, but it couldn’t be from the heat of the day—she’d been indoors. Then Gemma saw Tate step out after her.
Gemma immediately felt deflated, brushing sweat-soaked hair back from her eyes and flexing her stiff shoulders. What task had Tate given Hayley to do in there? And wasn’t it supposed to be restricted?
Ellie had an odd look on her face as her eyes tracked Tate returning to his house. But then she began humming, her eyes g
oing blank.
Hayley headed off to the hall. Why was Hayley going there and not helping with the weeding? Maybe it was break time.
Rising, Gemma dusted off her dirt-caked hands and walked across to Ellie. She waved her fingers in front of Ellie’s face. “Hello, anyone home?”
Ellie blinked as if distracted from a dream. “Gemma. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just wondering if we’re going to be doing this all day.”
“No, of course not. Just a half day on Saturday. And Sundays are completely free.” She began humming again.
Just then, a voice came over the loudspeakers. Time to put down tools, everyone. Thank you for all your hard work this morning. Everyone to meet at the hall. Enjoy the rest of your day.
The disembodied voice was Sophie’s—Tate’s office assistant. It was only ten o’clock. Were they all having an early lunch?
Leaving Freddy to put the tools away, Gemma headed off for a shower. She dressed in denim shorts and a halter top and made her way down to the hall.
Hayley was there, along with about a dozen others, packing food into small insulated containers.
“Gemma!” Hayley grinned in excitement. “We’re going camping!”
Eoin, lifting a bag of rice, nodded at Gemma. “One of the perks of the farm. We’re heading off to the gorge. We go almost every weekend, except in the rainy season. Too many crocs about then. Supposed to be the rainy season right now, but we’ve had a long dry spell.”
“Cool.” Gemma couldn't manage to dredge up any enthusiasm.
Clay was there too. He flicked his gaze towards Gemma, but she looked away sharply.
Standing back, Gemma watched them packing up the mountains of food. Everyone seemed to know what was going on around here, except for her. Even shy, reserved little Hayley had moved into the swing of things. Gemma wasn’t used to that. She was used to being the one who people looked to for direction. But the farm had somehow turned the order of things upside down. Like gravity had suddenly been switched off.
As soon as the insulated food containers were stuffed into backpacks, everyone piled into the SUVs again. Gemma, Hayley, and a girl named Dharma ended up in the car that Ellie was driving.
Dharma was one of the long-term residents of the farm—an Australian. Her frizzy blond hair framed a pixie face that was punctuated with nose, eyebrow, and lip piercings. She was annoyingly positive and bubbly, talking about how great everything was.
Ellie continued to be strange, barely speaking. Switching on the radio, she hummed along to the songs with her own tune, as if she could only hear music playing in her head.
The drive to the town of Katherine was hot and dusty. Instead of the line of cars stopping in the town this time, they peeled off and made a left-hand turn onto Gorge Road. The road took them all the way to a tourist centre.
A park ranger met with them all as they emerged from the cars. His name was Pete, and he had deeply brown skin. He introduced himself as a descendant of the native Jawoyn people.
“Who are the new people here today?” Pete asked.
Dharma gently pushed Gemma and Hayley forward. A few of the new recruits from the hot springs stepped forward alongside them.
“Hello and welcome, newbies,” said Ranger Pete. “Hope you’ll enjoy your time here. This place used to be called the Katherine Gorge, but it’s now known as Nitmiluk, in respect to the traditional owners—the Jawoyn and Dagomen people. Nitmiluk means place of cicada dreaming. Many of my ancestors’ rock paintings can be found throughout the area. The Katherine River carved out the ancient sandstone millions of years ago. It’s a series of thirteen gorges, separated by rapids, and about fifteen kilometres long, with sheer cliffs of sixty to ninety metres high—uh, any Americans among you?”
A wiry, muscled black guy put up his hand. “Yo.”
“Okay,” said Pete. “For you, that’s roughly ten miles long and almost three hundred feet high. Your group can kayak freely between the gorges and pull up and camp wherever the mood takes you. You won’t find better swimming holes anywhere in the world. As usual, the boss at your farm has arranged the overnight hire of kayaks and camping sites with a tourism operator.”
His voice switched from friendly to stern. “You are to stay with the others at all times. They know where to go and where not to go. Stay clear of freshie breeding grounds. To the best of our knowledge, there are no salties.”
“Freshies and salties?” Hayley asked hesitantly.
“Freshwater and saltwater crocs,” Pete answered. “Breeding season for the freshies is over, but you are still to stay well clear of them. Kayaking at this time of year is not usually allowed, because the wet season can mean flooding and dangerously fast water—and salties. But we’ve had a stupidly long spell of the dry. So, we’ve been able to keep the salties well out of the gorge. Don’t worry, we’ve got an excellent safety record.”
One of the new recruits—a tall, spindly German guy—did a double blink at that information. “You’re saying there are freshwater crocodiles are out there in the water right now? How big are they?”
Pete stretched his arms straight out, grinning. “About three times as big as that, mate. But they won’t hurt you if you don’t annoy them. You’re not the tucker they’re after. Please remember everyone, being here is a privilege. Don’t mess it up by doing anything dumb. During your trip, just think, what would Pete do?” Crossing his arms, he smiled broadly, showing evenly-spaced white teeth.
People seemed to take that as a sign to start moving off.
Gemma hung back. Anything with large, snapping jaws terrified her. Whether it was sharks, crocodiles, or dogs. “What do we do if a freshie approaches us?”
“They won’t approach.” A troubled look entered Pete’s eyes, and he lowered his voice. “You’re from the Llewellyn farm and you’re worried about the crocs?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I’ve been to the farm. It’s a very different animal to any of the other farms around these parts, that’s all I’m saying. And as for that guy they call The Chemist…” He exhaled, a deep wrinkle indenting his forehead. “Anyway, you’d better scoot before they leave without you.”
Gemma headed off after the others, casting a backward glance at Pete.
Down at the river, people were already paddling away from the stretch of sand. Hayley, standing by the bank, tugged Gemma’s hand towards one of the kayaks.
Eoin jumped in front of them. “Have either of you kayaked before?”
Hayley shook her head.
“How hard can it be?” Gemma raised her eyebrows, annoyed that he wasn’t among the people who’d already left.
“Try paddling up the river all day and then carrying a heavy kayak between the gorges,” Eoin said. “Then you’ll have your answer.”
Shrugging, Hayley glanced at Gemma. “I’ll go with Eoin. You go with someone with a bit of experience.”
Gemma stared at her. Hayley was different. Before, she’d said she couldn’t stand the sight of Eoin. Now she was jumping into a kayak with him. It seemed like the doubts about the farm that Hayley had spoken of were completely gone now. She was no longer questioning anything.
There were just three kayaks left.
Clay waited in one of them, expectantly. Throwing her backpack over her shoulder, Gemma stepped through the water and into a kayak with a muscly girl.
Gemma didn’t look at Clay again as they pushed off.
The girl was Australian, Gemma discovered. From country Queensland. Her family used to own a cattle station until drought drove them from it.
The blinding afternoon sun tinted the soaring sandstone cliffs red. They paddled along a wide expanse of jewel-green water.
A crocodile with a long, narrow snout basked on the sandy riverbank. Gemma started rowing away.
“Don’t worry,” the girl told her. “He couldn’t care less about you.”
Further down the river, the group pulled the kayaks off at a tranquil water
hole. Deep water lay between twin rock walls, a waterfall rushing down a steep wall at the end. Hayley dived straight in, trusting Eoin’s word that it was safe.
For a while, Gemma sat on the bank, watching everyone wade in, her head throbbing from the heat. Even in the shade, the temperature was sweltering. Clay glanced across at her a few times, but she refused to meet his gaze. He’d have to give up sooner or later.
The water proved too enticing. Gemma slipped in and let herself float, her hair fanning out and encircling her. When she opened her eyes, cathedrals of cliffs seemed to form a safe place—a sanctum. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed. Everything could be rationalised. She was overthinking things.
She swam across the warm surface.
For a moment, her vision blurred with the sharp reflections of light in her eyes. At the far edge of the water hole, a large shape moved. Her vision focused.
A crocodile.
Her entire body tensed. This time, she wasn’t in a kayak. She was in the water—crocodile territory.
The more she told herself to swim, the more she froze. Water lapped above her mouth. She could hear every breath she took.
Someone was stroking towards her. Clay. He put an arm around her shoulders, and she felt herself being tugged backwards.
Breaking away from him, she swam to shore.
Clay splashed out after her. “You okay? You were starting to go under out there.”
Pushing her dripping hair back from her face, she breathed deeply. “No, I wasn’t. I didn’t need help.”
She glanced across at the reptile in the distance. It was in exactly the same position. It hadn’t gone into the water after her.
Clay followed her gaze and then turned back to her. “That’s a freshie. Were you scared of—?”
“Just quit watching me, okay?”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t have to pretend anymore. You didn’t have to stick on me like a damned leech last night just because Tate told you to.”
Poison Orchids: A darkly compelling psychological thriller Page 16
