by Margaret Way
“And how is Daniel today?” Zara asked, hoping to hear it was one of Daniel’s good days.
“So looking forward to seeing you,” Helen said. “He has a male nurse these days, Rolf Hammond. He has been a great help. Daniel really likes him. We’ve sent Rolf off for a short break. You’ll meet him when he returns.”
Garrick drove slowly around the gravelled drive, naturally for Zara’s benefit, bringing the four-wheel drive to a halt at the base of the short flight of stone steps that led to the lower terrace. Its slender columns matched the upper storey but the area had been left open.
Moments later, sunglasses shielding her eyes from the boldest sun imaginable and the bouncing heat, Zara stood out on the drive looking away to left and right. The massive stone walls that bordered the compound and gave it added protection were ablaze with bougainvillea that just had to be the plant for the heat and the dry. She realized that what she was looking at were modern hybrids, not the common magenta. Glorious shades of pink, scarlet, crimson, cerise tumbled riotously to the left, white, orange and bronze to the other. The usual flower beds of a more temperate climate were not in evidence. Too hot! But more dense plantings of the indestructible strelizias, the “Bird of Paradise” their wonderful flower heads rising to easily four feet, decorated the wide beds in front of the lower terrace and along the short flight of stone steps.
Helen linked her arm through Zara’s, pleased with Zara’s unconcealed delight. Zara had always loved Coorango—far more than any city bred girl might have been expected to. Of course Zara painted and extremely well. Her father had ignored her artistic aspirations but she would find plenty of inspiration to paint here. “You’ll love what we’ve done with the gardens at the rear of the house,” Helen said with rising enthusiasm. She was so glad to have a woman’s company. Life could get lonely. Especially of late as Daniel’s cycle of life was coming to an end. “I’ve long since discovered walled gardens work better here. You’ll be amazed at what we’ve managed to achieve.”
“A love of gardens unites people, doesn’t it?” Zara answered with a smile. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve done, Helen. The avenue of date palms is so spectacular. It imparts a wonderful sense of place.”
“Well, one must work with the environment. It determines the character of the garden, don’t you think?” she asked on a rhetorical note. “So many beautiful flowering plants I’ve always loved—impossible to grow here, as you can imagine. Now, come along. You must come in too, Rick. Don’t race away. Dougal will take care of the luggage.”
“A cup of coffee and a sandwich, then I’ll be off,” Garrick said, reaching into the four-wheel drive for Zara’s suitcases. “No need to bother Dougal. This is nothing. Right, Ellie—” he gave the command “—lead the way. There’s something I have to discuss with Dad before I go. We need to get rid of O’Donnell. I need to do that right away. Give the man a promotion, an outstation to manage and he spends most of his time drunk.”
“You know that for certain, Rick?” Helen frowned. Daniel, not Garrick, had been the one prepared to give O’Donnell the opportunity. It seemed such a shame he had botched it.
“Of course I do,” Garrick said with quiet authority. “I’ll take the chopper to Biri Biri tomorrow. I’d invite you to come with me, Zara, but I don’t want you involved in any unpleasantness. O’Donnell could take dismissal hard.”
“Oh, I hope not!” Helen looked anxious.
“No need to worry, Ellie,” Garrick said briskly. “I can handle it.”
“Sure you can! Garrick can be tougher than anyone in the business when it’s necessary,” Helen boasted to Zara, not without good reason.
“I’m sure you’re right!” Zara gave Garrick a dazzling smile that nevertheless had a bite to it.
“Oh, Zara, it’s just so lovely having you here,” Helen exclaimed, having missed that exchange. “Anyway, I’m sure Rick has any number of exciting things lined up.”
“I’m looking forward to the polo weekend,” Zara said, refusing to meet Garrick’s sardonic gaze. “Still the big party Saturday night?”
“Of course, my dear,’ Helen confirmed happily. “I hope you’ve brought a pretty dress.”
“Zara is not short on those, Mother, dear,” Garrick drawled.
At the first sight of Daniel Rylance, sitting in his wheelchair, Zara had to bite down hard on the inside of her lip so not the faintest cry would escape her. She saw that this fine man was dying. His skin was very pale, dry as parchment, stretched tight as a drum over his once strikingly handsome features. The coal-black hair of yesterday had turned silver-white, as was his neatly clipped beard. Illness had robbed him of his once impressive height, strength and weight. He had lost stones. But his deeply shadowed grey eyes were as penetrating as ever and his smile just as wide. This was a man of great inner strength and courage.
“Zara, my dear, what a treat it is to have you here!” He held up his arms, seeing Kathryn very clearly in her daughter. The same incredibly beautiful dark eyes, so lustrous and full of expression.
“And how good of you to ask me!” Zara moved swiftly across the big beautiful plant-filled room the family had always called the Garden Room. She slipped gracefully to her knees so she could be almost at Daniel’s eye level. She took his hands in hers, squeezing them very gently. “And how are you, Daniel? Your eyes are as bright and perceptive as ever!”
“Getting there, Zara,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I could do with a kiss on the cheek.”
“Kisses on both cheeks,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’m so happy to be here. I bought you some books I hope you’re going to enjoy. The latest from your favourite authors.”
She bent to kiss his cheek, right, then left, then right again as he whispered in her ear, “Welcome home, Zara.”
Home? She felt a painful wrench of emotion she was just barely able to conceal.
“Maybe you can help Ellie read to me,’ Daniel suggested, smiling at his devoted wife. “She’s just so good to me. Glued to my side. It isn’t fair on her. But I’m having a bit of trouble holding books these days and the medication I’m taking is making my eyesight blurry, so I do enjoy having someone read to me.”
“Then Helen and I will work out some shifts,” Zara said, waiting on Helen’s smiling nod of assent. “Actually, I like the idea. I love reading. I’ll love reading to you.”
His father reclined in his wheelchair looking at Zara as if she was an angel sent straight from Heaven, Garrick thought. Both of them wore expressions of great satisfaction.
Daniel looked past Zara to his son, standing there with such eye-catching male grace, so marvellously strong and alive. All he had to do now was survive until Garrick and Zara got back together again. He had no illusions he had much time. “You’re going to stay in for lunch, aren’t you, Rick?”
“Sure, if you want me to, Dad,” Garrick said, although he knew he’d have things to catch up on. Coorango had an excellent foreman, Bill Knox, but Bill tended to get a bit anxious when there were major decisions to be made. Aerial mustering was about to begin and the particular areas of the vast station to be worked needed to be sorted out. He already knew too many of their cattle had strayed over into the desert proper looking for feed. They had to be brought in.
“Of course I want you to! This is a great day,” Daniel exclaimed with real enthusiasm. “I haven’t felt so well in a long time.”
Pray God, the mistakes of the past could be put behind them.
Zara ventured out on her own the following morning. As a horsewoman, she was nowhere in the league of Sally Draper, but she was a lot more accomplished than most city-bred girls. Garrick had flown off to Biri Biri in one of the choppers before she had even had breakfast. But then it was his habit to start the day at sunrise. A typical mustering day, she knew, began well before daybreak. The chartered helicopters had arrived, two of them, because two could cover much more country in less time and control the movement of the cattle so much better.
She was looking forward to watching the muster. She would have to wait until Garrick got back. It was exciting to hear the whap-whap-whap of the rotor blades as they sliced through the hot air. Exciting being part of it all. The choppers swept far and wide, pushing small mobs of cattle at a time into the long makeshift “funnels” that led to the holding yards. One of the big holding yards Garrick had had shifted the previous afternoon, telling them over dinner it hadn’t been in the right place. Running a cattle station the size of Coorango was a big job for a big man. Garrick had had to take command years before he’d expected to, but he had stepped into his father’s shoes with certainty. He had been trained by the best. Operating a vast property was in his blood.
Helen had picked out one of the quieter horses from the stable for her, an exquisitely made little chestnut mare that radiated sweet temper. She was called Satin and Zara could see why. The mare had such an exceptional shiny coat; she might have been groomed for the Melbourne Cup.
“Now, don’t go too far, dear,” Helen cautioned. “It’s quite a while since you’ve been here.”
“Sad to say,” Zara commented, stroking the mare’s neck. “No further than the Blue Lady Lagoon, Helen, I promise. I’ll be home well in time for lunch. Did Garrick say what time he’d be back?”
Helen shook her head. “He’ll stay as long as it takes. I’m really disappointed in Patrick. He’s been an excellent stockman, but he broke up with his girlfriend in the Alice not all that long ago. Must have been the start of it—the drinking, I mean. We didn’t realize she meant all that much to him. He certainly never said. Love affairs that go wrong!” Helen lamented. “They take their toll.”
“Know the feeling!” Zara gave the older woman a wry smile.
“You are in control of your life now, Zara,” Helen said.
As soon as she was out of sight of the main compound and its satellite buildings, Zara gently kicked her heels into the mare’s flanks. The response was immediate. Satin was as keen on a gallop as she was. Sweet-tempered she might be, but the mare seemed to revel in the opportunity to put on a show. She surged forward, breaking into a smooth, long striding gallop that showed her soundness and quality.
To her added pleasure, a squadron of green and gold budgerigars, one of the great sights of the Outback, flew in perfect V formation over their heads, not one breaking rank. The air vibrated with the pounding of hooves and the whirr of so many wings. Half a mile from the Blue Lady Lagoon, she reined into the shade of a large stand of pink blossoming bauhinias. Fallen petals swirled all around them like pieces of confetti. She loved the bauhinias, the orchid trees. They thrived on Coorango.
With a deep sigh of pleasure, she removed her wide brimmed Akubra, allowing the breeze to cool her face and neck, then she loosened the bright red bandanna she wore around her throat for protection. For the ride, she had fashioned her long hair into a braid that fell down her back. Only one hitch! The thick braid had given her back a good thumping while they’d galloped. She took the opportunity to make a shorter loop of it. Her muscles were a bit tight, but they would unwind.
She sat quietly, contemplatively in the saddle looking all around her. Coorango stretched away for ever! Such savage splendour! It had to be seen to be fully appreciated. It was, quite simply, awesome. Not a cloud marred the iridescent perfection of the glittering blue sky, as immense as the fiery red earth beneath, dotted with the perennial grass, the spiky Spinifex rings. At this time of year the prickly mounds were scorched to a dull gold. The heat of the day was increasing by the minute. She wouldn’t have attempted going any further than the lagoon, anyway. Best to take things in stages. The mirage was abroad, that naturally occurring optical phenomenon that could even be caught on camera. It was so easy to see how the early explorers had mistaken the desert mirage for bodies of water. Barely a kilometre away, dozens of little stick people were running through the silvery layers. Another familiar illusion.
It was as if she had never been away.
When Garrick landed on Biri Biri Patrick O’Donnell was nowhere to be found. O’Donnell had two part-Aboriginal jackeroos to help him. Mustering was due to start the following morning.
“Went lookin’ for ’im, Boss,” the older jackeroo, Jimmy, the spokesman, told him. “Paddy has bin in a bit of a mess. Woman trouble, Boss.”
Garrick took the chopper up again, making low sweeps of the outstation. At first not overly concerned, he began to feel real unease. Where the hell was Patrick? The jackeroos, from all accounts, had made a fairly extensive ground search. He had no reason to disbelieve they hadn’t. On the contrary, he had formed the opinion that the jackeroos had been doing the bulk of the outstation work. Either one of them would have made a more effective manager than O’Donnell right now. His father had wanted to give O’Donnell a chance, but he hadn’t reckoned on woman trouble. It did strange things to a man.
Finally, he landed the chopper in a clearing not far from a water channel, having decided on taking a quick search through the bush. He was walking, hacking away at low slung branches ready to whack him across the face. As he went he prayed. O’Donnell was an excellent stockman but he had never thought him remarkable for his mental strength and resilience. Life in an outstation, deep in the heart of a harsh environment, demanded a goodly amount of stoicism and an abiding love of the bush. As far as he was concerned, O’Donnell didn’t really possess either. And there was always the blight of a broken love affair. That could play hell with the best of men.
Daniel had dozed off peacefully minutes after Zara closed the book she had been reading to him. The author had a marvellous prose style and a great story telling ability. They were up to page twenty-nine—there were no chapters as such—now she set the book aside, glancing at her wristwatch.
It was now three p.m. Helen had said over lunch that she expected Garrick back by one p.m. at the outside. They had received no radio message to say there was any kind of trouble on Biri Biri. Garrick would let them know if there was.
With her thirty plus years of experience of station life, Helen assured the increasingly anxious Zara that Garrick was well used to handling any number of stressful and often dangerous situations. The chopper could land almost anywhere on Biri Biri. Garrick might have had to go in search of Patrick. Mustering was due to start the following day. Maybe Patrick was working out the best site for the holding yard.
“Relax, dear,” Helen cautioned. “All’s well. I’m sure of it.” Helen managed not to convey any sense of unease. But this was her son. Her Garrick. Truth be known, she had always worried about her menfolk.
“I can’t help being a bit nervous, Helen,” Zara said, her mind on the fragility and unpredictability of life. Some part of her had thought her father would go on for ever, yet he was gone.
“Of course you can’t,” Helen agreed, reaching across to take Zara’s hand. “After what happened to your father.” Helen couldn’t bring herself to mention Leila, who had deliberately set out to destroy Kathryn’s marriage and, ultimately, her.
“I let him rule my life, Helen,” Zara confessed with the deepest regret mixed with a sense of guilt. “I loved him. I miss him too. But he made life hard for me. He caused me a lot of grief.” Deliberately too. Now, that was very hard to take.
“Well, I know he came between you and Garrick.” Helen exhaled slowly.
“I was so terribly defenceless against him,” Zara said. “My father, my enemy! I used to long for his attention when I was growing up. We had been robbed of our mother but, afterwards, Dad literally turned his face against me. At the same time, when he ordered me home all those years ago, I obeyed. That was always my response. Obedience.”
Helen smiled grimly. “I don’t think there were very many people who ignored your father’s commands, dear. He never asked, like other people—he commanded. He disliked me thoroughly. I gave him cause. I’ve often thought Dalton’s actions were a form of revenge against me and, as a consequence, revenge against my son. You love Garrick, don’t you.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Zara felt overwhelmed by how much. “I think I started to fall in love with him when I was eight years old,” she said. “He fascinated me, the ‘wild bush boy’. I loved him—love him—with all my heart, but I can’t forgive him for not reading even one of my letters, Helen, and I wrote him stacks. Poured my heart out. I would have read his.”
“Would you, I wonder, Zara? Believing the man you love had cut you out of his life. Had pretended he loved you, then walked away. I suppose none of us can be sure. But I do understand, as a woman, how you feel. The thing is, the past has to be put behind the both of you.”
Zara was shaking her dark head. “Easier said than done, Helen. On one level nothing has changed. Our passion for one another. Yet on another level we’re not even in the same street. Can I ask you something? I want your opinion; I value your opinion.”
“Go ahead,” Helen invited, reaching out to gently touch the side of Zara’s cheek. “Whatever you say is in strict confidence. However long it takes to tell me, I’ll hear you out.”
Zara’s smile was heartfelt and warm. “Thank you, Helen. It seems to me…if it were true…you could know.”
“Well, let’s hear it,” Helen urged. “Something is clearly bothering you.”
“I could tell you it has bothered me for years. Did Mummy have real difficulty conceiving, Helen? I wouldn’t be surprised if she did, the way Dad was, so overbearing, so impatient for results. Men like Dad have to have an heir. There must have been a lot of stress placed on Mummy.”
Helen closed her eyes, not believing what she was hearing. “But my dearest girl, Kathryn produced Corin within two years of the marriage. I wouldn’t call that having difficulty, would you? I didn’t have Garrick before two years of marriage. Ideally, husband and wife need to get to know one another, live together for a time before the children arrive. Why ever would you ask such a thing? Is it something to do with what your father told you?” A frown appeared between her well shaped brows.
