The Shy Socialite

by Lindsay Armstrong

  She grimaced mentally and felt some sympathy for them. Whether they knew who he was or not, she did. Thinking about him in his cargo pants and black sweatshirt, with his ruffled dark hair and that eagle intensity at times in his dark eyes, and with his tall, streamlined physique, she had no difficulty picturing him engaging in dangerous exploits like shooting tranquilizer darts out of helicopters or parachuting into jungles.

  Worse than that, she herself had not been immune from the effect of Brett Wyndham, although it had been designated a ‘friendly’ day. His hands on her waist when he’d lifted her down from the plane had sent shivers through her. Walking side by side with him had done the same.

  Even doing those mundane things—not to mention laughing, chatting and sometimes being teased by him, channelled an awareness of him through her pores, both physical and mental.

  I love him, she thought suddenly. I love being with him. I love his height and his strength, his hands; I love breathing in his essence. But how can that be? It’s only been a few days…

  She looked up suddenly to see him eyeing her with a question in his eyes.

  ‘Sorry,’ she murmured, going faintly pink. ‘Did you say something?’

  ‘Only—ready to go?’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Whenever you are.’

  ‘Something wrong?’ His dark eyes scanned her intently.

  ‘No,’ she said slowly—but thought, I don’t know; I just don’t know…

  Back at Haywire that afternoon, she took herself to task and forbade any more deep thinking on the subject of Brett Wyndham—in relation to her personally, that was. She went to work on her notes while Brett had his next meeting. She didn’t ask what his business was, but two planes landed on the strip and he was closeted with the passengers for several hours.

  She worked in her cabin, going over all the material she’d gathered, including the zoo details, and putting it into order.

  She paused once; she was conscious of a lack, a hole in her story about Brett Wyndham, and realized it was the lack of any detail about his father. But there was another lack, she felt, brought on by her vision of him out at Karumba performing dangerous deeds. So far she had no details about his life as a vet in far-off exotic lands, and she would need that.

  She made some notes then paused again and frowned. It occurred to her that if she were asked whether she could capture the essence of Brett Wyndham she would have to say no. There was something missing. But what made her think that? Some invisible barrier in him, drawn fairly and squarely so you couldn’t cross it. The way just occasionally, when he was talking about his life, she sensed that he retreated and you knew without doubt you’d come to a no-go zone.

  She realized she’d put it down to him being a genuine loner, but now she couldn’t help wondering if there was more to it.

  She shook her head as she wondered if it was her imagination. Then she put her pen down as she heard the noise of aircraft engines, and the two visiting planes taking off. Bella scratched on her door. She let her in and noticed a note attached to her collar with her name on it.

  ‘Why, Bella,’ she murmured. ‘You clever girl!’

  She smoothed the note open and digested the gist of it: a couple of the visitors had decided to stay overnight and would be picked up the following morning. Would Holly care to have dinner with them in about an hour?

  Holly sent Bella back with an acceptance penned to the note. Then she went to find Sarah and offer her help, but Sarah was quite restored and wouldn’t hear of it. So Holly showered and changed, this time into slim burgundy trousers and a pale-grey jumper over a white blouse.

  It was a pleasant evening.

  The two visitors were a couple from a neighbouring station and they proved to be good, lively company. It wasn’t until ten-thirty that Holly excused herself and Brett walked her to her cabin.

  ‘Had a nice day?’ he enquired when they got there.

  Holly turned to him impulsively. ‘I’ve had a lovely day!’

  ‘That’s good. Ready to fly back to Cairns tomorrow?’

  Holly grimaced. ‘Yes, if not willing. But thanks for everything.’ She glanced back towards the homestead where his guests were still sitting. ‘You better get back. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ he echoed, but with an ironic little smile.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said, then could have shot herself.

  ‘You do?’ He raised an eyebrow at her.

  She clicked her tongue in some exasperation and soldiered on. ‘You’re thinking I’m thinking that I’ve been saved by the bell!’

  ‘Something like that,’ he agreed. ‘That the presence of visitors will prevent me from kissing you goodnight? But, since I’ve been on my best behaviour all day, and since it really has nothing to do with anyone else, you’re wrong.’

  And he put his hands around her waist, drew her into him and kissed her deeply.

  Holly came up for air with her pulses hammering and her whole body thrilling to his touch, to the feel of him against her.

  He put her away from him gently and smoothed the collar of her blouse. ‘Don’t put the light on until you’re closed inside,’ he advised. ‘Goodnight.’ And he turned away.

  It took ages for Holly to fall asleep that night as she examined and re-examined her feelings; as she wondered about his, was conscious of a thrilling little sense of excitement. How could she have grown so close to him in such a short time? she asked herself. It was like a miracle, for her. But it wasn’t only the physical attraction—although that was overwhelming enough—it was the powerful pull of his personality. It was as if he’d taken centre-stage in her life and she had no idea how to go on with that lynchpin removed…

  Where would it all lead?

  There was no opportunity for any personal interaction the next morning. The two guests were picked up after breakfast and then Brett and Kane were called to the home paddock for a colt with colic.

  Holly watched the proceedings from the paddock fence as Brett worked to keep the horse on its feet whilst Kane prepared a drench. Once again she could see how good Brett was with animals as he soothed and walked the stricken horse and then administered the drench.

  He came out of the paddock wearing khaki overalls, with sweat running down his face, and asked her if she was ready to leave. She nodded, said her goodbyes to Sarah and Bella and looked around. ‘Bye, Haywire,’ she murmured. ‘You’re quite a place.’

  She hadn’t realized that Brett was watching her thoughtfully while she’d said her goodbyes.

  When they were alone, finally in the air, they didn’t have much to say to each other at all, at first—until Brett made a detour and flew low over the ground to point out to her where he planned to locate the zoo.

  ‘There’s water.’ He indicated several dams. ‘There’s good ground cover, but of course we’ll have to feed by hand, so we’ll establish several feed-stations.’

  ‘There are no roads,’ she said slowly.

  ‘Not yet, and no fences, but that’ll all come.’

  ‘Are you planning to make it a tourist attraction?’ she queried. ‘I don’t know if it’s what you have in mind, but I read somewhere about a zoo that offered a camping ground as well. If you’re thinking of an adopt-an-animal scheme, people might be interested in seeing their animals in the flesh, so to speak.’

  He glanced at her. ‘Good thinking.’

  ‘It’s a huge project.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘But it needs to be done—I feel, anyway. OK.’ The little plane lifted its nose and climbed. ‘Back to the mundane—well, back to Cairns, anyway, and the wedding.’

  But fate had other ideas for them. Not long after they reached their cruising altitude, the plane seemed to stutter, and Brett swore.

  ‘What?’ Holly asked with her heart in her mouth.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he replied tersely as he scanned gauges and checked instruments. ‘But it could be a blocked fuel-line. Listen, I’m going to bring her down.’ He scanned
the horizon now. ‘Over there, as best I can.’

  Her eyes nearly fell out on stalks. ‘Over there’ appeared to be a dry river-bed. ‘But we’re in the middle of nowhere!’

  ‘Better than what might be the alternative. I’m also going to put out all the appropriate distress signals and hope to get a response before we go down. Holly, just do exactly as I say and buckle in tightly. If anything happens to me, once we’re on the ground get out as fast as you can in case the fuel tanks go up.’

  She swallowed convulsively several times as he spoke into his radio and the plane lost altitude and stuttered again.

  Expecting to nose-dive out of the sky any moment—not that she knew anything about the mechanics of flying—she had to admire his absolute concentration and the way he nursed the little plane down.

  ‘All right, now duck your head and hold on tight,’ he ordered. ‘I’m bringing her in.’

  Holly did just that as well as send up some urgent prayers for help, through the next terrifying, never-ending minutes.

  They landed and hopped over the uneven sandy ground, slewing and skidding madly until they finally came to a halt with the nose about a metre from a huge gum-tree on the bank. A cloud of birds rose from the tree.

  It had been like being in a dry washing-machine, for Holly. She’d been buffeted and bruised even within the confine of her seat belt. Her limbs had reacted like she’d been a rag doll being shaken, but all of a sudden everything was still and there was an unearthly quiet. Even the birds had stopped squawking.

  She stared at the gum tree, so close, so solid, and swallowed. Then she switched her gaze to Brett. He was slumped over the half steering-wheel with a bleeding gash on his forehead. After a frozen moment of panic for Holly, he lifted his head, shook it groggily and was galvanized into action.

  ‘Out,’ he ordered. ‘It only takes some fuel to drip onto a hot pipe and we’ll be incinerated.’

  With an almost Herculean effort, he managed to open his door and climb out. He turned immediately and reached for Holly, manhandled her out of her seat and down onto the ground, where he took her hand and dragged her away from the plane.

  They were both panting with exertion by the time he judged them far enough away to be safe; running through the sand of the riverbed had been almost impossible. Holly sank to her knees, then her bottom, her face scarlet, her chest heaving. Brett did the same.

  They waited for a good half-hour in the shimmering heat of the river bed but the plane didn’t explode. He told her he was going back to it to salvage whatever he could. He also told her to stay put.

  ‘No,’ she said raggedly. ‘I can help.’

  ‘Holly.’ He looked down at her with blood running down his face. ‘Please do as you’re told, damn it!’

  ‘No.’ She reared up on her knees. ‘I can help,’ she repeated. ‘And you can’t stop me. Besides, you’re bleeding—you could have concussion—’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ he broke in impatiently.

  ‘I’m coming. In fact, I’m going.’ She got painfully to her feet and started staggering through the sand.

  He swore quite viciously, then followed her.

  Between them they managed to get their bags and two blankets out of the plane. Brett also found a spare water-bottle strapped to a small drinking-fountain with a tube of plastic cups. He took out not only the spare bottle but the fountain itself. Then he discovered a few cardboard cartons with Haywire stencilled on their sides.

  ‘I was probably meant to deliver these, but no-one mentioned it.’

  ‘What’s in them?’ Holly breathed.

  ‘No idea. Maybe soap powder—maybe not. We’ll take them,’ he said.

  He also checked the radio, but it was dead, and the satellite phone was smashed. Just as he left the plane for the last time, the starboard wheel-strut collapsed suddenly, tilting it to an unnatural angle and crumpling the starboard wing into the ground.

  They froze and waited with bated breath but nothing more happened.

  ‘When is it completely safe?’ she asked shakily.

  He put an arm round her shoulder. ‘If it was going to happen, it would probably have happened by now.’ He put his other arm around her. ‘Holly.’ He stopped and put his other arm round her. ‘How are you?’

  She tried to break free but he held her closer, and it was only then that she realized she was shaking like a leaf and not quite in control of herself. ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘It’s reaction, I guess. But I’ll be fine; just give a me a few moments.’

  ‘Of course.’ He held her very close and stroked her hair until she stopped shaking.

  ‘How do you feel now?’

  It was a few hours later and the sun was starting to slip away. The constraint that had had them in its grip earlier in the day had melted away under the circumstances.

  ‘Oh, fine,’ Holly responded. ‘Thank you. You?’

  They’d made themselves as comfortable as possible in the creek bed not far from the plane. Brett was leaning back against a smooth rock. There was a tree growing out from the bank, giving them shade. They’d pegged out in the sand a bright-orange plastic sheet with a V on it, which they’d got from the plane, where it would be most visible from the air.

  He grimaced. ‘I’ve got a headache that would kill a cow.’ He touched his fingers gingerly to the cut on his forehead that Holly had cleaned as well as she’d been able to.

  The packages for Haywire had proved a godsend. They contained packets of biscuits, some self-opening tins of luncheon ham, packets of dates and raisins, six tins of sardines, six tubes of condensed milk and one cardboard carton of white wine.

  An odd mixture, he’d commented when they’d broken them out, but at least it was not soap powder, so they wouldn’t starve.

  She’d agreed ruefully.

  They’d also found a small axe and a gas firelighter.

  Now, as she watched the sun slipping away, she said, ‘It looks as if we’ll have to spend the night here.’

  ‘Yes.’ He shrugged. ‘I doubt if it will be more than a night. But it takes time to co-ordinate a search and hard to do in the dark.’

  She looked around and shivered. ‘It’s a big country.’

  He studied her dirty, rather tense face. ‘Come here.’

  She hesitated then crawled over and leant back beside him. He put an arm round her.

  ‘I’m really worried about my mother,’ she said. ‘She’ll be devastated when she hears this news.’

  ‘Yes.’ He said nothing more for a long moment, then, ‘You do realize you have me at your mercy, don’t you, Holly?’ He brushed his lips against her hair.

  ‘Well, I certainly wouldn’t take advantage of you with a headache, if that’s what you mean,’ she returned with some humour.

  ‘Pity about that,’ he drawled, then relented as she looked at him incredulously. ‘What I meant was, we could talk—fill in the gaps, go on with the interview.’

  ‘Now? But I’m not at all organized.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought it would take a girl who handled a crash-landing in the middle of nowhere with aplomb long to organize herself.’

  ‘It wasn’t all aplomb.’

  ‘Believe me, one little attack of the shakes is very close to aplomb.’

  She considered. ‘Well, I’ve got a good memory, so I’ll rely on that. Oh!’ She put a hand to her mouth. ‘My laptop. I didn’t even think to check if it got smashed. But hang on…’ She fumbled in one of her pockets and with a cry of triumph produced a flash key. ‘Safe and sound.’

  ‘You back everything up on that and keep it on your person at all times?’ he guessed.

  She nodded vigorously. ‘Bitter, if not to say heartbreaking experience has taught me that. OK. Uh, I was thinking only yesterday that we haven’t touched on any of your exploits to do with saving endangered species. I’m sure readers would find that riveting. And do you have a favourite animal?’

  He thought for a while. ‘Yes—giraffe. There’s
nothing like seeing them cross a plain with that rocking-horse rhythm, or staring down at you from above the crown of a tree. I’m very keen on giraffe—or Twiga, which is their Swahili name.’

  She chuckled and led him on to talk about some of the successes he’d had as an endangered-species expert. Then their talk turned general until he asked her about her childhood.

  She told him about her adventures with her father and couldn’t prevent the love and admiration she’d felt for her father shining through. ‘I miss him every day of my life. Is your father alive—?’ She stopped and bit her lip.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Your mother?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t need to be sorry on my father’s account,’ he said dryly.

  Holly took an unexpected breath and wondered if he would enlarge on what she was pretty sure was the thorny subject of his father. But he said no more, and she regretted the fact that they had somehow lost their sense of easy camaraderie, so she took another tack.

  ‘How do you combine your lifestyle—travelling the world and so on—with running a grazing empire? And it’s more than that, isn’t it? You’ve branched out into mining, transport, even a shipping line for live-cattle exports amongst other things. Or does it all run itself?’

  She felt a jolt of laughter run through him and breathed a secret little sigh of relief.

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’

  ‘They say you’re a billionaire,’ she observed. ‘They say you’re responsible for tripling the family fortune.’

  He shrugged. ‘I told you, in some ways I’m a quintessential cattle man. It’s in my blood, so some of it comes naturally. I’m also very attached to this country.’ He looked around. ‘And I did set out to prove something to myself—that when I took over I’d never allow the empire to go backwards.’ He paused, pushed himself upright and looked down at her. ‘Do you realize you have a dirty face?’ He touched the tip of her nose.

  Holly grimaced as she thought, subject closed. She said, ‘If you had any idea how battered as well as dirty I feel.’ She looked around. ‘There wouldn’t be any pools in this river bed, do you think?’