by Kayte Nunn
‘I love it,’ said Mark as she showed him that evening. ‘Let’s have forty or so labels printed for the party. We can do the full run later. How long do you think it will take?’
‘I reckon my printer can turn this around in a couple of days. I’ve already given him the heads up.’
‘Excellent.’
*
A few days later there was another meeting of the Shingle Valley Preservation Association in the upstairs room of the Southern Cross.
‘There have been rumours flying about all over the place,’ said Mark, trying to calm an increasingly agitated crowd. ‘That doesn’t make them true. They’re just that. Rumours.’
‘There’s no smoke without fire,’ shouted a voice, to a chorus of agreement.
‘Charlie and Matilda met with Jeremy Bell earlier this week and made our submission for rezoning. Jeremy has also assured me that there are no current plans for a change of use at Tarrawenna,’ said Mark.
‘So why have we heard that Tin Pei has bought up another parcel of land in the valley?’ demanded Bob.
‘They have, but again, there are no current plans for any further mining licences to be issued, according to Jeremy,’ said Mark.
‘Unfortunately there’s nothing we can do about who buys land in the valley,’ said Amanda. ‘We need to focus on what we can do, which is to create an awareness campaign.’ She paused to hand out several pieces of paper. ‘I’ve listed everything that’s been done so far, with photocopies of the reports. If anyone’s got anything to add, I’ll be happy to consider it.’
‘Thanks, Amanda, you’ve done a terrific job,’ said Mark. ‘We’ve been getting some great coverage in the press, and we need to keep the pressure on. We can’t afford for people to forget about this. Our future and our children’s future depends on it.’
‘Hear, hear!’ shouted a few in the crowd as the noise level rose.
Mark held up his hand for quiet. ‘Now, next order of business. Plans are going ahead for the museum tasting in Sydney,’ said Mark. ‘Mattie here has very generously offered to include some of her photographs, and donate any money from their sale to the fund.’
Mattie grinned as a murmur of approval went around the room. It felt good to be able to help, but as she thought about Jamie Soames’ email, she couldn’t quell the queasy feeling in her stomach. Wouldn’t they see it as a betrayal if she upped and left again?
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Mattie woke up very early – the sun hadn’t even risen over the Shingle Hills – with one thing on her mind. It was time. Long past time, actually. She threw on a pair of long pants and a t-shirt, pulled a comb through her hair and splashed her face with water. Grabbing a hunk of bread from the kitchen at Kalkari House, she slathered it with butter and some of Mrs B’s strawberry jam then headed out to her car, picking up an old akubra from the pile in the hall on her way. She slung a water bottle on the front seat and took off down the drive.
As soon as she drew up next to the paddock at Windsong, she heard the distinctive whinny. Her heart sped up and she hurried out of the car to see her horse. Shakira was standing with another mare under an old peppermint gum. A layer of mist blanketed the ground, droplets of morning dew trembled on spider’s webs and the trees were still dark cutouts.
A sudden bark from one of the Windsong dogs startled the pair, and they kicked up their hooves and cantered across the paddock. As Mattie watched them in full flight, manes and tails streaming out behind them in the wind, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.
She felt a tap on the shoulder and spun around. ‘Oh! You scared me. I didn’t think anyone was up and about yet.’ Her heart skipped a beat.
‘No worries. I saw someone over here and figured it was probably you. I thought you might like this.’ Charlie held out a steaming mug of coffee. ‘It’s only instant, but it’ll warm you up.’
‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully accepting it. ‘It’s cooler than I thought out here.’
‘Well, it is barely light.’
‘Yeah, I guess. What are you doing here at this hour?’
‘Got a delivery of barrels coming, and had to make some space in the winery. Thommo will be here later to get everything unloaded so I was planning to take a break after I’ve moved them, maybe even go for a bit of a ride before it gets too warm. What do you say?’ he asked casually. ‘I promise we’ll take it easy – not even so much as a trot.’
Mattie smiled. ‘That’s what I was here for, actually.’
‘Yes! About time, Tilly Cameron,’ he said. ‘It won’t take me long to finish up in the winery. Give me another half an hour or so.’
‘Cool. Why don’t I go and catch them and get them tacked up?’
‘You know where everything is?’
‘If I don’t, I can figure it out.’ Mattie handed him the now empty cup.
‘See you in about thirty then.’
Catching Shakira was easy. The horse knew her, and came obediently at her whistle. The other mare was a different story, and Mattie was sweating by the time she eventually managed to throw a halter and lead rope over her. Leading them both to the tack room at the small stables behind the winery, she found bridles and saddles and set about her work. She was attaching stirrups to Shakira’s saddle when Charlie reappeared. He was holding a tuckerbag. ‘Looks like it’s going to be a beaut of a day once this mist burns off. I thought we might go down by the river, perhaps make it to Carrolls Springs?’
‘That’s a fair way,’ said Mattie. Carrolls Springs was named after one of the valley’s early settlers, who, legend had it, lost his sweetheart there in a tragic drowning accident. His ghost was said to haunt the spot. It was at least a couple of hours’ ride away.
‘That’s why I’ve got this,’ he said, buckling the tuckerbag onto his saddle and grabbing a battered hat, not unlike Mattie’s, from where it hung on a nail in the stable. ‘Come on, Fearless, whaddya say?’
Mattie grinned at him. How could she refuse? ‘Sounds good to me.’
With her heart in her throat, she gathered Shakira’s reins in one hand and let Charlie boost her into the saddle. She felt suddenly scarily high up, and thoughts of falling on her recently healed shoulder flitted through her mind, but Charlie stood alongside her, calming a skittish Shakira, who hadn’t been ridden for some months.
‘Okay?’ he said, looking up at her.
She nodded and adjusted her seat, holding the reins loosely with hands that were slippery with sweat.
He scrambled up on the other mare, and kicked her off out of the stables. Shakira followed obediently, and Mattie’s confidence grew. She leaned forward to give Shakira a pat to reassure herself and the horse.
It was hot by the time they approached the springs. Mattie’s leg and hips had begun to ache, but she didn’t let on to Charlie; she was revelling in the long-forgotten feeling of being on horseback. They rode easily together, side by side when the trail allowed it, and then in single file as it narrowed. Charlie kept up a steady chat, telling her about the last vintage at Windsong, his plans for it, Thommo’s delight at being a father, the cuteness of Max, the latest blue at the pub …
Honestly, thought Mattie fondly, the guy could talk underwater. The rhythmical sway of Shakira beneath her and the sultry heat as the sun rose overhead made her drowsy. Her eyes narrowed and she felt rather than saw the landscape, the sweeping valley floor, the towering gums and the familiar sounds of the bush, the sweet, familiar perfume of eucalypts and dry grasses that enveloped them. It felt like a gift: the perfect day to get back on the horse that she loved so much. There was a special quality to the air, as if it were touched with magic, and she knew that she would remember this day forever, even when she was back in London.
She swatted a fly away for about the millionth time and caught Charlie laughing at her. ‘Bet you haven’t missed those, hey?’ he said.
‘Can’t say I have. But there’s plenty else that I didn’t realise I was missing.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yup. This … Riding …’ She shrugged.
He grinned at her. ‘Told you so.’
They rode on in silence, Charlie’s chatter having unaccountably dried up.
‘Whoa there,’ he said, pulling his horse to a standstill as they came upon the track that led down to the springs. It was too steep to take them any further on horseback. Charlie dismounted and looked for a suitable tree to tie them up. ‘Here,’ he said, reaching for Mattie to help her down.
‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully as she slid off Shakira, aware of his strong hands about her waist. She didn’t want him to remove them; despite everything, she wanted him to keep holding her, but no sooner was she on the ground than he released her.
They left the horses grazing and ventured down the track, Mattie clinging onto tree roots to steady herself.
‘Okay there, Fearless?’ asked Charlie, who was a few steps in front of her.
‘Piece of cake,’ she replied. The sheen of sweat on her forehead cooled as they descended along the shadowy path.
After a while the track levelled off and opened out and, rounding a corner, they came upon the springs. There was a flattish, sandy area in front of a dark pool of water almost completely surrounded by rocks. After Charlie’s chatter during the ride, the sudden silence and filtered light gave the place an eerie feel. Mattie shivered in the cool, dank air.
‘Don’t know about you, but I’m famished,’ said Charlie. ‘How about that spot over there?’ He pointed to a large, flat rock big enough for them both to sit on.
‘Perfect,’ said Mattie, shaking off the nagging feeling that she was being watched. She had heard the story of Phillip Carroll too many times as a child. How he had returned again and again, searching for the body of his true love, but never finding it.
‘You know that’s all a crock,’ said Charlie, reading her mind.
‘What?’
‘It’s all a big myth, that stuff about Carroll’s wife drowning. It’s made up to frighten little kids and stop them coming down here.’
‘No!’ Mattie was shocked. ‘I believed every word! It was such a tragic story. Are you sure?’
Charlie nodded. ‘Uh-huh. My dad told me it had been going around since before he was a boy.’
Mattie felt almost disappointed. They sat down on the rock, mere inches between them, and gazed out at the pool of water. She noticed a dragonfly hovering over the water, flitting this way and that over the glassy surface.
‘Doesn’t stop it being a very romantic place though,’ said Charlie.
‘How do you figure that?’ There were sitting so close to each other that Mattie could feel his breath on her skin. She turned to look at him and saw that he was staring right at her, an unfamiliar look in his bright blue eyes.
Charlie shook his head. ‘Mattie …’
She decided to take control, to get in first. There was an ease to being with him, as if they spoke the same language, but there were still so many unanswered questions in her mind, not least of which was his relationship with Marie-Claire.
‘What’s going on here, Charlie?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, do I have to spell it out?’
There was a pause. Seconds ticked by.
‘No. No, Mattie, you don’t. I’ve been trying to tell you.’
Her stomach clenched briefly. She didn’t know what he was about to say, and it suddenly mattered a great deal.
‘Tell me what?’
‘That I’m crazy about you.’
She reeled. ‘But what about Marie-Claire? Your, er, fiancée?’
‘She went back to France. I told you.’
‘But she’s coming back, isn’t she?’
A look of realisation dawned on him. ‘I thought you knew. She came back to see if we could make it work again, but in the end she decided that she didn’t want to leave France, and I couldn’t leave the valley, this …’ He spread his arms wide. ‘This is my home. My life. My world.’
‘Oh.’ Mattie was floored. That changed everything. ‘I know what you mean,’ she said as she tried to process the momentous news.
‘You do?’
‘I do. I didn’t always understand it, but coming back here has made me see everything differently.’
‘Still reckon you’re a city girl then? You belong here too, you know.’
‘There certainly couldn’t be anywhere more beautiful, that’s for sure,’ she said, avoiding his question.
They sat together quietly, each absorbed in their thoughts.
‘Do you remember the dance?’ he said suddenly.
‘The dance?’
‘Yes, at the Eumeralla Hall. You must have been about fifteen or sixteen and I was a couple of years older. You walked into that room like you owned it. I was completely blindsided. The tomboy I’d grown up with had changed into a beautiful girl. I was so stunned I could barely think straight, let alone ask you to dance.’
‘I do remember,’ she said slowly. ‘You weren’t the only one to be blindsided.’
‘Really?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded emphatically at him. Mattie steeled herself to say the words she’d been rehearsing in her mind. ‘I’ve got something to confess,’ she said.
Charlie looked at her, curious.
‘I remember everything about that night, in the club …’ She blushed.
‘I know,’ Charlie replied.
‘You what?’
‘I know you do. It’s one of the things I love most about you. You’re utterly transparent, Matilda Cameron. Couldn’t tell a lie to save yourself.’
‘Oh,’ she said, turning even redder. ‘But you let me believe …’
Charlie smiled, leaned forward and pulled her gently towards him, his lips meeting hers in a sweet, tender kiss that she felt all the way down to her toes. Time stilled. The sounds of the river and the birds faded, replaced by the insistent thrum of her heart. She was consumed by the feeling of his skin on hers, his hand cradling her head, the taste of him, the feeling of utter rightness at being there with him. She didn’t want the moment to end.
Eventually, they broke apart, but she held his gaze. The look of joy on Charlie’s beautiful, dear face was, she knew, reflected in her own. The thought of the job offer from Jamie Soames flew into her mind. Was she ready to break her own heart?
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Rose stretched blissfully in the big bed in the master bedroom at Kalkari, enjoying the feel of the soft cotton sheets after the hospital’s starched linen. It was so nice to be back home again. A slight breeze ruffled the curtains at the window and she lay listening to the warble of magpies and the occasional piercing note of a whipbird. The morning sounds of Kalkari were one of her favourite things about living there.
She placed a careful hand on the gentle swell of her stomach. No cramps. That was good. ‘Come on, little fighters, you hang in there,’ she whispered to the tiny jellybeans growing inside her. She eased herself out of bed and padded downstairs to the kitchen and put the kettle on. The doctors had reassured her that a sudden bleed was a common occurrence in early pregnancy, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Making a mental note to look into organising some extra help at Trevelyn’s, she walked over to the fridge for milk. She was just pouring the tea when there was a knock at the door.
Opening it, she got the surprise of her life.
There, on the doorstep was Isabella, resplendent in a black trenchcoat with the collar turned up, killer heels and a slash of red lipstick. Her normally perfectly styled hair was pulled back severely and her eyes were hooded and ringed with grey. She looked tired and wan. Rose was so shocked by Isabella’s appearance that she completely forgot that she had yet to get dressed, and was clad in fabulous ice-blue pyjamas with polar bears gambolling across her chest.
‘Ah, Rose. I am glad it is you. May I come in?’ Rose was still absorbing the fact of Isabella’s sudden appearance and took a while to answer. ‘If that’s not too much trouble?’ Isab
ella said, a note of impatience in her voice.
Rose was surprised. Isabella had never spoken to her like this before. What was going on?
‘Of course,’ Rose said, standing back and opening the door wider for her to enter. ‘I must say we weren’t expecting you. I thought you were in Spain?’
‘Well, obviously I am not. Not for now, anyway.’
‘I’m afraid Mark’s already left for the day. I think he said he was heading to the Trevelyn’s vineyard.’
‘Actually it is you I have come to see.’
‘Okay. I’ve just made a pot of tea, actually. Would you like some?’ Rose’s natural politeness came to the fore.
‘Coffee. If you have it.’ Isabella’s abruptness was something Rose could never quite get used to, though her rudeness no longer had the same effect on her as it once had.
As she led her through to the kitchen, she wondered where Leo and Luisa were. ‘Have a seat and I’ll bring some cups over,’ she said, indicating the table.
‘I expect you are wondering why I am here, no?’
Rose nodded and waited for her to say more.
‘I am bringing the children back to Kalkari. They have had a wonderful time in Spain, but they miss their home and their father. Leo the most. He has been a very sad boy. He has tried not to show it, but I can see it anyway. He needs his father.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful.’ Rose could hardly believe her ears. ‘Well, for Mark, anyway, I know he’ll be thrilled. He has really missed them. We all have.’
‘It’s not easy, you know …’ Isabella’s voice trailed off and Rose felt suddenly sorry for her. Her hand went involuntarily to the curve of her belly. She couldn’t imagine ever having to share her children in the way Isabella and Mark had to.
‘I’m sure it isn’t,’ said Rose softly. ‘Where are they, by the way? The kids, I mean.’
‘Oh, they are over at Mrs B’s. We flew in yesterday and stayed overnight in Sydney, but they were awake so early this morning that we drove straight to the valley. She’s feeding them breakfast. They were desperate to come back to Kalkari, but I wanted to see you first, before bringing them back here.’
