Jaime tapped out a few replies. Tried to keep it all upbeat. Yes, she was enjoying life out the back of beyond. No, there weren’t hot men to speak of (okay, only one but Ruth didn’t need to know that). Thanks, but no thanks, to her former employers’ work break-up (as if she would go back there!) and, last but not least, her mobile didn’t work up here in the mountains. She could just imagine Celia’s gasp of horror.
Beside her the landline rang.
‘Jaime Josephina? It’s Blanche.’
Jaime wilted. Hell, no, not her mother. ‘Hi, Mum. How are you?’
‘We’re at the shack …’
Dave had taken her mother to an island in the Gippsland Lakes for the festive season so the newly married couple could commune with nature. He owned a share of a hut there. A deer hunter’s hut.
‘… and Dave’s doing lots of hunting with his gun-club mates.’
A bunch of rednecks as far as Jaime was concerned.
‘I’m learning macramé,’ her mother added. Blanche had returned to the seventies!
‘It’s rather fascinating. I’m making you an orange owl for Christmas.’
Crap, Jaime thought, but she plastered a smile on her face, remembering the old customer service trick: if you were smiling it came across to the customer, even if they couldn’t see you. ‘That’s nice, Mum.’
‘I just wanted to make certain you don’t want to come down here for Christmas?’
There was no way she was going to stay in a shack, eat Bambi, and watch those two lovebirds decked out in camo gear canoodling on the front porch.
‘I told you, I’m not doing Christmas this year, Mum.’
‘Don’t be silly, Jaime. You can’t not do Christmas. You used to love the whole festive season like your father. All those decorations, the lights. Why I remember when –’
‘I don’t need you to remind me about my father,’ Jaime said in a choked voice. This was all pretty rich coming from the woman who’d remarried before her previous husband was cold in the grave.
‘You really have to move on, Jaime.’
‘That’s obviously easy for you to do. It’s harder for me.’
‘You don’t understand – I loved your father but I was lonely.’
Not good enough, Mother. I’m lonely too, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to marry the first man who comes along.
Time to change the subject. ‘Like I said, I’m not doing the whole Santa thing this year. Plus they don’t celebrate Christmas up here at Burdekin’s Gap.’
You big fat liar, Hanrahan.
‘They don’t?’
‘Nope, and I like it that way.’
‘But you’re all on your own there.’
‘No, I’m not. There’s a stockman called Stirling here, and a few others around. Now, Mum, I really have to go. Things to do, places to be. It’s busy up here.’
Double big fat liar, Jaime Josephina!
‘Well, if you’re sure …?’
‘I’m sure. And don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’ Jaime shoved the phone receiver down near her feet, stomped around a bit on the polished boards, put the phone back up to her ear and said, ‘Someone’s coming, Mum. Got to go. Love you!’
She pressed the end-call button. And got a huge fright when someone said ‘Hello!’ from the lounge doorway. After lying to her mother, it served her right.
It was Stirling, looking like a dreamboat in a crisp blue-and-white-striped RM Williams shirt tucked neatly into clean denim jeans. The belt around his waist was decorated with silver decals and the buckle was pure country – bull horns picked out in black. She hoped her mouth wasn’t open in delight because it wouldn’t be her best look. Not by a long shot.
He leant against the doorjamb. ‘I’m heading down to Lake Grace. You want to come?’
Jaime closed her eyes for a second, trying to force aside her inappropriate thoughts at the word ‘come’. When she opened them again, Stirling was still there, with that little quirk to his lips.
‘I’d love to come.’ She blushed. ‘What I mean is, yes, that would be great.’
‘You might want to change.’
Jaime looked down and realised she was still in S’s dressing-gown. ‘Um … right. I’ll be five minutes.’
‘Take as long as you need. I have to check the Christmas lights on the homestead work – might need to get some more globes. Because they stay up all year round, they can be a bit dicky. You never know, you might want to turn them on at some point.’ He gave a wry smirk.
Yeah, right. After all her crying the other night, she wasn’t going there again.
He made to move away. ‘Plus, I’ve got to hitch up the trailer with the Suzuki on it. I borrowed Ryan’s LandCruiser again so we can tow it down to the mechanic’s workshop.’
Jaime nodded guiltily. The Suzuki. She’d forgotten she’d killed it.
Ryan’s LandCruiser was a hell of a lot more comfortable than either Valerie’s ute or Stirling’s motorbike. The silence in cab was pleasant rather than tense. The sun was beaming through the windows, and the road winding down through the hills to Lake Grace was as pretty as any postcard Jaime’d ever seen. She leant back into the seat to enjoy the ride. The last time she’d been this way was on the back of Stirling’s motorbike, in the half light, so she hadn’t been able to take in the finer details of the bush surrounding her. This time, her concentration didn’t waver from the scenes running past her window like a National Geographic film.
Kangaroos and wallabies bounded through the scrub at intervals; crimson rosellas, king parrots and many other birds dipped and dived through the air. Wildflowers bloomed in scattered clumps, and she was sure she’d seen an echidna waddling off the edge of the road to safety. It was all good for her soul.
She’d loved the bush as a kid. Well, the little bits of scrub she and her dad had found along the creeks near their suburban home when they went fishing, bird-watching or hiking. Those little pockets of bush were by no means as vast as the mountainous and scrubby country that stretched out before her, but they’d given her and her dad a tiny taste of the contentment that could come from being a part of the land.
Stirling’s voice broke into her reminiscing. ‘I’ll drop the trailer and ute off at the garage – it’s on the way into town – and then we’ll head down the street. Seeing it’s Saturday most places will close at lunchtime. I’m not due to collect the pup until one, so we’ve got some time to fill.’
‘We’re picking up a puppy?’ Jaime knew her voice had risen to a high squeak, but she couldn’t help it. ‘I’ve always wanted a puppy!’
Stirling gave a small grimace. ‘So’s Valerie.’
Bloody Valerie. Of course. ‘Oh, it’s for her, is it? How nice.’ Her tone was verging on sardonic.
Stirling cast her a quizzical glance. ‘Actually no, he’s for me. I need to train another dog while I’ve still got Buster. But Valerie wasn’t against the idea.’
Jaime sank back into the seat. She could feel a blush rising up her neck. She’d got it all wrong and now he was thinking she was a jealous cow. Which, of course, she was.
‘Lovely,’ she said lamely and looked out the window, pretending intense interest in a billboard they were passing. TAKE FIVE, DON’T SLEEP AND DRIVE. That’d be good – turn back the clock and pretend she was still in bed. At least there she couldn’t make a complete dick of herself. Then she remembered the possum and sighed.
They dropped off the Suzuki and left with the reassuring words of the mechanic – ‘She’ll be right mate, I’ll fix it’ – ringing in their ears. Next stop was the main street. Jaime had decided on the drive down that she should probably buy her mother something. A gift, not a Christmas present. A little trinket that said, ‘I’m sorry I’m a pain in the butt but I still love you.’ She glanced along the street. The Stock and Station Agency with its plethora of boots, coats and Akubras in the window was a definite no-go. Her mother wasn’t the type to take to The Man from Snowy River look. The supermarket was an outside chanc
e; the corner café with its window display of homemade knitted goods was a possibility – the macramé owl came to mind. Ugh! Of the lot, the chemist looked the most promising. There was a footbath in the window, and her mother could certainly learn to de-stress a bit.
‘I’ll head on round to the grain store and meet you back here in half an hour,’ said Stirling as he pulled up to let her out. ‘You might want to get some Dine from the supermarket too. That’s if you still want to suck up to Dodge after the possum debacle.’
He grinned and drove off. Bloody smartarse.
Jaime wriggled her shoulders, trying to release the tension from all her recent adventures, and strode off in the direction of the chemist. Maybe she could use the footbath instead.
It took her all of twenty minutes to buy Blanche’s gift (no, thank you, she didn’t want it wrapped in Christmas paper!) and collect a few groceries, including cream and strawberries for the damn sponges and tinned cat food. With her spare time, she wandered along the rest of the street. There wasn’t much to Lake Grace. She ended up in front of the Stock and Station Agency, gazing at the manly goods on display in its front window. A Montana Silversmiths buckle caught her eye. It was an oval shape, with filigree vines and swirls framed by a polished silver rope trim. Simple but classy. It reminded her of her father.
Instinct sent her into the store to purchase the buckle. What she was going to do with it, she had no idea. She tucked it into her back pocket and walked out the door.
Chapter 13
The pup was a gorgeous black-and-white border collie with white socks; a funny little fellow with attitude. Jaime loved him.
Over the past few days she’d spent hours out in the garden, and if Stirling was working around the machinery sheds, the pup came to gambol at her heels. The little mutt would dash off into the shrubbery to find something interesting, then come running back to jump on the next weed Jaime threw into the wheelbarrow. ‘Buster, get out of that!’ became her catchcry.
She’d quizzed Stirling about why he’d called the pup Buster too.
‘I always call my dogs Buster,’ he’d said. ‘Why call up one dog when you can call two?’
It made sense on one level, but …
‘Yoo-hoo! Anybody out there?’
Jaime was crouched in the kitchen garden behind the picket fence so whoever the visitor was, they couldn’t see her. She bounced up. ‘I’m here!’
Irene clutched her chest. ‘Oh my! You gave me a fright.’
Buster the pup appeared beside Irene, and jumped up to claw at her stockings in an attempt to say hello.
The older woman gave him a disgusted look. ‘Down, doggy, down!’
Obviously Irene wasn’t fond of dogs. Jaime wished she’d known that before she’d been inveigled into making five sponges. Or at least before Stirling made the sponges.
‘Just making sure you’re coming tonight, Jaime? And, well, that you managed okay with those cakes?’
The woman’s tone was just a little too supercilious for Jaime’s liking.
‘The cakes are all creamed and waiting in the fridge for collection,’ she said, uncharitably wondering what Irene’s bauble earrings would look like shoved up her nose.
‘Fabulous. I was worried we were a bit … well, pushy the other day.’
Pushy? Try full-on aggressive.
‘No, not at all, but unfortunately I won’t be able to make it to the function.’
Jaime tried to look suitably contrite. It was a bit hard as Buster was now tugging at Irene’s skirt, as if saying, ‘Leave, leave, leave!’ Jaime concurred wholeheartedly.
‘Why on earth not?’ Irene looked shocked. ‘Everyone goes to the Christmas Tree!’
Jaime winced. All the more reason for her not to. ‘I can’t get there. Valerie’s ute is at the garage getting fixed.’
‘Oh, is that all?’ Irene smiled in relief. ‘Stirling’s coming – he’ll give you a ride.’
‘I’ll give who a ride where?’ Stirling strode up the garden path. ‘Buster! Get down!’
The pup slunk away, chastised, and Jaime sighed with disappointment. She’d been enjoying watching Irene’s hem come down in shreds.
‘Jaime here says she’s not coming to the Christmas Tree! But you can bring her, can’t you?’
Stirling glanced at Jaime with a wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘Absolutely.’
Irene spun back to Jaime, clapping her hands. ‘See, no problem. I’ll just collect those cakes. No need for you to come in – I’ll grab them myself. And we’ll see you down at the Gap at seven tonight.’
Jaime shot Stirling a look loaded with fury.
Stirling just grinned, spun on his heel and sauntered his way back towards the machinery sheds, whistling Buster to follow.
What did a girl wear to a party in the bush? Jaime discarded one outfit after the other. She’d already thrown to the side anything that had even a hint of red, green, gold or silver. And come to think of it, blue and purple had Christmas connotations too. Those options went into the no pile as well.
She wasn’t left with much. Black, black and more black. Melburnians had a love affair with black and Jaime was no exception. Plus, it was always a safe option. She picked out a few bits and pieces and tried them on. She seemed to have lost a little weight. Must be all the gardening and fresh mountain air. That and the lack of cappuccinos, lattes and other sumptuous snacks.
Finally, she was ready. The look on Stirling’s face when she sashayed down the path was worth all the effort of styling her long hair, donning make-up and generally making an effort to look hot.
He was sitting waiting on his V-Max, two helmets on his lap. His eyes widened and then homed in on her legs, which seemed to go on forever in the mini-skirt she’d chosen. As she walked, the skirt wriggled a little higher. She tried to pull it back down, to no avail. The high heels weren’t helping either. As she moved closer, she saw his eyes lift to her top, a plunging, ruffled little black number that barely covered her midriff. Her belly-ring sparkled, as did the single diamanté necklace and long dangly earrings.
‘Ummm …’ Stirling cleared his throat, seeming to have difficulty dragging his eyes off her belly button where the tiny zircon screamed hello. ‘I, um, didn’t think,’ he indicated the bike. ‘I should’ve borrowed Ryan’s Cruiser again.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Jaime.
She was primed with two glasses of wine, justified on the basis that she was going to a local barbecue that had nothing whatsoever to do with Christmas. The world was cool; she was happy, feeling good about herself and in control. Nothing could touch her. Least of all the little problem of riding a motorbike in a mini-skirt, high heels and a helmet destined to cause bad-ass hair.
Spreadeagled on a motorbike wasn’t exactly the most comfortable position, but it did slam her more intimate parts against Stirling’s hunky body. Parts she thought had gone into forced hibernation now hummed with suppressed energy. ‘More. Give me more!’ they seemed to yell as the bike swept along the winding road. It was almost a relief when they finally rumbled into the Gap.
Pulling off her helmet and shaking out her long blonde hair, she was aware of at least a dozen male eyes on her as they dismounted in front of the local hall. Stirling’s expression, however, was inscrutable. She’d guessed he preferred to travel incognito and slip in amongst the crowd.
‘Hi, fellas,’ she called.
‘And you must be Jaime,’ said a deep voice. It appeared to come from a solid, heavy-set woman – well, Jaime thought she was a woman – with a square head, short haircut and squinty eyes. ‘I’m Jean. Bluey from the pub’s Jean. I believe you have my overalls?’
And she hadn’t given them back yet. Ryan still had them. Jaime looked at Jean, who was grimacing and appeared to be shaping up to her. Oh my God. She didn’t stand a chance. This woman looked mean.
‘Hope you liked the decorations,’ Jean said, and Jaime realised the grimace was a smile. ‘The kids had a ball with the hearts on the back. They’re a bit e
mbarrassing, but, hey, kids will be kids.’ She gestured to a tribe of children playing chasey around the hall.
‘You want a drink, Princess?’ Stirling was at her elbow with a glass of wine.
Jaime shook her head. ‘No, thanks.’ Even though nothing would taste better right now, she knew she shouldn’t have any more – she’d need her wits about her to get through tonight. She could see acres of tinsel inside that hall.
‘A lemon squash perhaps?’ suggested Jean. ‘I think Bluey’s got one in that esky over there, Stirling.’
The man raised an eyebrow and Jaime nodded gratefully.
As the night went on, the kids got louder and louder, especially after Santa arrived on the back of the fire truck to give out a sackload of toys. Half-cooked sausages got eaten, the drinks went down with unfailing regularity, and the Polly’s Plains sponges garnered rave reviews from Irene, Susan and Sharyn.
The downside was that Jaime was feeling very grumpy and unsociable, which wasn’t the way to be at a rollicking country bash like this. But when you didn’t want to celebrate Christmas, you could only take so many handmade baubles, paper chains, tinsel and flashing lights, plus the carol singing that was going on inside the hall. Not to mention Santa himself, who’d tried to sit on her knee and kiss her. She had a sneaking suspicion it was Ryan wearing that suit.
‘Time to go, Princess,’ Stirling said, finding her spot by the fire drum, which was as far away as she could get from the hall. The rest of the crowd were inside, singing along to Irene thumping on the piano. ‘I’ve got to be up early tomorrow to get my work done so I can help set up down at the river. The whole community comes to Polly’s Plains for lunch on Christmas Day.’
The Christmas shindig was at Polly’s Plains? That was going to make it even more difficult to ignore the whole festive thing. On the bright side though, all this ridiculous nonsense would soon be over! Awesome!
As Jaime stood up, she stumbled on a misplaced log. Stirling went to catch her but she saved herself in the nick of time. She straightened her top, tried to pull her skirt lower (no good) and balanced precariously on her heels.
Rose River Page 9
