He ushered them into the lounge room. Nina didn’t know where to sit, what to say, where to look. Ric’s eyes were like searchlights. Dylan poured drinks and pushed a glass into her hand. She gulped it down all at once. He raised his eyebrows, refilled her glass and patted a cushion on the couch. ‘Sit, Nina. This is going to be fun.’
‘You’re all grown up,’ said Ric, staring.
Nina took another swig of Dutch courage. ‘Back at the ball,’ she said, ‘I thought you and Dylan were an item.’
Ric said, ‘Don’t be stupid,’ at the same time that Dylan rolled his eyes and said, ‘Don’t I wish.’
Ric laughed and flashed a boyish smile. For a moment he looked sixteen again. Nina searched around for something to say, anything that might bring some normality to the situation. ‘I didn’t know you two were friends.’
‘Ric was the only kid at Drover’s High who hated football as much as I did,’ said Dylan. ‘We were a natural fit.’
‘I’ve never been much of a team player,’ agreed Ric.
‘No, you were more of a lone wolf,’ said Dylan. ‘But you stuck up for me back then, when nobody else did. Maybe because you copped a few names yourself. Problem was, you couldn’t be there all the time.’ He turned to Nina. ‘One week in Year Nine, I came home from school with a bloody nose every single day. That’s when Mum decided enough was enough. So she sent me to St Patrick’s. Heaven compared to Drover’s High. Drama, music, a film appreciation society for the non-sporty kids. That’s when Nina and I became mates, wasn’t it, sweet?’ Dylan put his arm around her. ‘You should have seen Ric when I told him you’d be at the ball. He was desperate to go. I’d never have got him to wear that kingfisher mask and cape otherwise.’
‘Shut up, Dylan.’ Ric drained his glass.
Nina’s heart jumped. So . . . Ric had gone tonight because of her? Her eyes held his. ‘How long has it been?’ she said. ‘Fifteen years, maybe, since we were last down by the river?’
They’d started meeting when they were just children. Secretly. Secretly, because their fathers had always been at odds. More than that – they’d detested each other. Sometimes Nina thought the only reason Dad had sold Red Gums was to get away from Max Bonelli. The hostility and bitterness between them had reached far and wide. As droughts had become more frequent and water issues more divisive, the men’s enmity reflected people’s fears. Locals had taken sides, irrigator against grazier, neighbour against neighbour. It had been like living in a war zone. Eventually Bianca, Max’s patient wife, could bear it no longer. She left him, and returned to her family in Italy. The children went with her, including Ric. It had broken Nina’s fourteen-year-old heart.
‘Fifteen years,’ agreed Ric. He looked perfect and all wrong at the same time. Time ticked by and the silence weighed heavy in the room. Dylan rolled his eyes. ‘Aren’t you going to tell her?’
‘Tell me what?’ Nina asked.
Ric shot him a furious look. Dylan heaved a big sigh and stood up. ‘You know where the blankets are, Nina. The couch is quite comfy.’ He collected the empty glasses. ‘Goodnight, all. Have fun, but keep it down. My housemate’s asleep.’
Nina felt dizzy-drunk again. She listened for the sound of Dylan’s bedroom door closing. Ric was listening too, she could tell. There it was. Alone now, like in the old days, down by the river. No, not like that. As children they’d known each other so well. They’d shared an easy intimacy. Now they didn’t know each other at all.
‘It was like you just dropped off the face of the earth,’ she said. ‘I thought maybe you’d had an accident. Maybe you were sick. Maybe you couldn’t get to a phone, or you’d lost my number, or my address, or you didn’t have a computer.’ She swigged her drink. This was dredging up a host of hurtful memories she’d believed long-forgotten. Days spent locked away, doing nothing but wonder. Nights without sleeping, endlessly playing the ‘what if’ game. Weeks making excuses, blinding herself to reality. Months of fading hopes.
‘I’m sorry.’ He wet his lips.
‘Shit, Ric. Not a phone call? Not an email or a letter? Why?’
Ric looked at his shoes, broad neck bowed. A tendon stood out in sharp relief, and a pulse throbbed in his temple. She wanted to shake the silence out of him. ‘At least tell me when you got back?’
It took him a long time to answer. ‘Years ago,’ he said at last. It wasn’t the answer she’d expected or hoped for. Where had he been all this time?
Ric cleared his throat, still looking down. ‘I wanted to come back to Drover’s.’ He laced his fingers together. ‘But Dad didn’t want to know me. Reckoned I’d taken Mum’s side. And you know what your dad’s like.’
‘Dad’s gone. He runs the produce store at Drover’s Flat now.’
Ric looked at her sideways, with a faint grin. ‘Thanks for the tip-off.’
A tremor ran through her. God, he was handsome. ‘So that’s it?’ she said. ‘You didn’t want to face your father or mine? It would have taken more than that to keep me away from you.’
‘There was another reason.’ Ric turned away, unwilling to meet her gaze. ‘I heard you were with someone else.’ The silence stretched for so long that Ric eventually filled it. ‘So who runs Red Gums?’
‘I do,’ said Nina.
‘What, by yourself?’
‘That’s right.’
He whistled through his teeth approvingly. ‘Good on you.’
‘Mum and Dad help out when they can, of course . . . and Lockie.’
‘That’d be right,’ said Ric with a soft snort. ‘Bet it didn’t take him long after I left.’
Something about his tone made Nina snap. ‘You turn up out of the blue after fifteen years and now you’re jealous?’ She stood and paced the room, bristling with resentment, struggling for words. ‘You meant everything to me,’ she said, her voice rising. ‘The most important person in my life, my mate, my best friend . . . my . . . How do you think I felt when you just disappeared? And now you say you’ve been back for years? Oh my god, Ric. At least tell me what you’ve been doing all this time.’
‘Dad?’
Nina froze. A child stood in the hallway. A girl, with large brown eyes and long dark hair, about nine years old.
The child took in the scene, sharp-eyed like a bird. She pointed at Nina. ‘Who’s she?’
‘This is my friend, Nina,’ said Ric. ‘Ah . . . Nina, meet Sophie, my . . . daughter.’
Nina blinked stupidly. Whatever was he talking about?
‘It’s late,’ Ric said to the girl. ‘You should be in bed.’
Sophie stared at Nina, like she was trying to make up her mind about something. ‘That’s a pretty dress,’ she said. ‘You look like a princess.’
‘Thank you.’ Nina forced a smile, her words little more than a stammer. She ran a hand over her hair, and her stomach lurched alarmingly.
The girl slipped from the hall into the lounge, sat down on the couch and tucked skinny knees beneath her pony-print nightie. ‘I can’t sleep,’ she said. ‘There’s a ghost in my room.’
Nina nervously smoothed her gown. The room spun slowly. She felt as breathless as she’d been in the ballroom, but for a very different reason. She was drained, drained and sick. ‘I’d better go.’ She looked around for her bag.
Ric stood and laid a hand on her arm. ‘We’ve all been drinking. How will you get to Kate’s?’
‘I’ll walk.’ The thought of traipsing miles in the dark, wearing high heels and a ball gown, wasn’t exactly appealing, but it was better than the alternative.
‘Are you leaving?’ asked Sophie. ‘Don’t you like it here?’
Nina ignored her and checked that her phone was in her bag. She could feel the girl’s eyes upon her.
‘I don’t like it here either,’ said Sophie. ‘I hate it.’
‘Go to bed, Sophie.’ Ric rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It’s one o’clock in the morning.’
‘I can’t.’ Sophie’s eyes flashed before brimming with silent te
ars. ‘I told you, there’s a ghost.’
Ric clasped his hands behind his head. Sophie hugged her knees, and looked so small and afraid that Nina stopped fumbling with her bag. ‘Where’s her mother?’ Ric looked as lost as Sophie. He headed for the kitchen, beckoning her to follow. She stood for a moment, bag still in hand before letting it slip to the floor and going after him.
‘Rachael’s in a psychiatric clinic,’ he said. ‘With depression. Her doctor got in touch and asked me to take Sophie for the holidays.’
‘Her doctor?’ asked Nina, trying to put the pieces together. ‘You two aren’t together?’
He shook his head. ‘The thing with Rachael didn’t last long. We lost touch. She never told me about Sophie.’ He took a breath. ‘Nina . . .’
She cut in sharply. ‘When did you find out?’
‘About a month ago.’
‘Jesus, Ric. That’s some story.’
‘I’m going home to Donnalee,’ he said. ‘To sort things out with Dad, let him meet Sophie.’
‘You’re going home to introduce your daughter to your father.’ Tiredness washed over her; the taste of champagne had turned sour.
‘I never —’ Ric began.
The girl appeared at the door, arms wrapped tightly around her. ‘Your dad’s going to take you back to bed,’ said Nina. ‘He’s very good at scaring ghosts.’
Sophie pursed her lips in doubt. ‘Really? Will he stay as long as I want? Will you be here too, when I wake up?’
Nina rubbed her eyes. As betrayed as she felt, the girl wasn’t to blame. And why should she run away, when Ric was the one at fault? ‘Yes and yes,’ she told Sophie.
‘Will you have breakfast with me?’
‘I’m going to my friend’s.’
Ric’s eyes locked onto Nina’s. ‘I could make you breakfast.’
‘Yes,’ said Sophie. ‘Ric, I mean Dad, makes really good pancakes.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’ Nina looked at him squarely. ‘I just can’t.’
‘Nina . . .’ His eyes were pleading. ‘There’s still more to talk about.’ When she didn’t answer he turned to Sophie. ‘Now’ – he took his daughter’s hand; she let him for a moment then shook him away – ‘how about we go do some ghost-busting?’
Nina gave a tight smile. ‘Goodnight, Sophie.’ Ric and his daughter disappeared down the hall.
Nina went to the bathroom, changed into the oversized T-shirt Dylan had left for her, and collapsed on the couch, mind abuzz with all that had happened. Too many surprises for one evening. Too many questions still unanswered. Ric back, and with a daughter. It was a kick in the guts, in spite of the passage of time, in spite of what she and Lockie had now. Ric’s return had leapfrogged her back over the intervening years. It had opened up an old wound, as raw and painful as the day he’d left. She tried to let it go, but emotion trumped reason.
Nina wiped her face and nose with the bottom of Dylan’s shirt. Was that a footstep in the hall? She held her breath, sensing Ric’s presence in the darkened doorway. So close. Part of her wanted to hear him out, hear him justify his disloyalty. Part of her would slap him if he tried. She waited, a ball of tension in the gloom, but he didn’t come. And despite exhaustion and all the booze, sleep was a long time coming.
CHAPTER 4
Nina woke to the sound of a kettle whistling in the kitchen, groggy and unsure of how to place herself in the new day. The strange events of the previous night seemed more like dreams than reality. Muted voices floated through the open door. There was Dylan, and a woman’s voice – Ally, she guessed, his housemate. She strained to hear more voices, but failed. Maybe she had dreamed the whole thing.
Dylan appeared by her side, dressed in board shorts and a Mambo singlet. He carried two mugs of tea. ‘Shove over,’ he said, perching beside her on the couch while Nina sat up and took the tea with faintly trembling fingers. The sweet warm liquid soothed her parched throat and revitalised her dehydrated body.
‘Is he . . .? Are they . . .?’ She gestured toward the kitchen.
‘They sure are. Large as life, eating breakfast.’ Dylan sipped his tea.
‘I can’t believe it.’ She shook her head, causing her tangled auburn curls to fall across her face. ‘Ric back . . . and with a daughter? You should have told me.’
‘Come on,’ said Dylan. ‘I wouldn’t have missed the look on your face last night for a million bucks.’ But his brilliant blue eyes were filled with concern.
‘You owe me one, mate.’ Nina gave him a little kick. ‘Drive me to Katie’s, right now.’
‘No breakfast?’
‘No breakfast. And hurry, will you? There’s someone I need to see.’ He raised his brows and she kicked him again. ‘As if I’d tell you anything after last night.’
‘All right, all right.’ Dylan studied her face. She concentrated on staying neutral, on keeping her emotions in check. He touched her arm briefly then disappeared into the kitchen. Nina closed her eyes and Ric’s handsome face swam into view. Her brain whirled with conflicting emotions. Hope and disillusion, joy and sadness – love clouded with anger and a deep sense of betrayal.
She didn’t want to think about how her body had betrayed her. The way it thrilled to him, flushed for him. She didn’t want to think about the small child sitting in the next room. Nina got off the couch, dressed only in the T-shirt and her undies, and retrieved her bag and gown. She checked her phone. Two texts from Lockie. She dropped the phone back into her bag and peered through the kitchen door. Sophie was looking straight at her as if she’d expected her to appear right at that moment.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘Dad made breakfast.’
Then Ric saw her too, and Nina wished she was dressed in something more than a T-shirt. ‘I can’t stay, I’m sorry.’ Sophie’s hopeful expression collapsed and she turned her attention to the pancakes on the table in front of her. Ric started to stand, but Nina waved him back down. ‘Goodbye, Ric. And it was nice to meet you, Sophie.’
Dylan came in, jangling his keys. He took in the scene and shot her an enquiring look. ‘Why don’t you stay for breakfast, Nina?’
She was about to refuse when Sophie looked up. Something in the girl’s reproachful brown eyes stopped her. ‘I suppose I could stay for a little while.’
Dylan ducked into the hall while Ric pulled out a chair for her. ‘I’ll make you a coffee,’ he said.
She advanced slowly, conscious of her bare legs, and took a seat.
‘Where are you going after breakfast?’ asked Sophie.
‘To visit a friend, and then home.’ Nina took a mouthful of pancake. Her mouth was too dry to swallow, and she was getting a headache.
‘Where’s home?’ asked Sophie. Why did the girl have to ask so many questions?
‘Nina lives just across the river from your grandfather,’ said Ric. ‘We’re going to be neighbours.’
Sophie looked suspiciously at her father, and then back at Nina. ‘Is that true?’
‘Well, yes. I suppose so.’
‘Do you have a farm too?’
‘Yes,’ said Nina.
‘Are there animals?’
‘Yes.’
‘What sort?’
‘Cows and birds, a dog. Horses.’
‘Horses?’ Sophie’s face flushed with delight. ‘Can I see them?’
The girl looked so hopeful that Nina nodded before properly thinking it through. She didn’t miss the spark of pleasure in Ric’s eyes. Her headache was growing. She took a last swig of coffee as Dylan came in with her bag and the blue gown draped across his arm. Nina pushed back her chair. ‘I’ve got to go.’ She couldn’t look at Ric, but felt his eyes on her as she followed Dylan to the door. Outside she could breathe again. The air was warm and perfumed and it felt good, so very good on her skin.
Pemberley House was a rambling, brick building that had once been a priory. Thirsty-looking roses, blooms spent, grew from two gigantic urns flanking the front door. Nina – now wearing her normal clothes, res
cued from Kate’s – signed in and headed for the south wing. She went past residents aimlessly wandering about, who looked expectantly at her as she approached. Past frazzled-looking nurses in charge of stainless steel trolleys, hurrying who knew where. Past a pair of bored teenagers staring at their phones in a hallway, until she came to the right room.
Eva Langley sat at a small table by the window. It was apparent, even when seated, that she was a tall woman. And despite her age and frailty, she retained a good degree of the stately elegance that had always set her apart. An aquamarine rug featuring statuesque cranes covered the floor, and a gallery of photographs lined the walls: snapshots of the homestead at Billabong Bend in its heyday; of people and horses and river scenes; of homes and house boats. Family portraits. Snapshots of a full vibrant life, well lived. Nina studied the old woman for a moment. Sunshine streaming through the glass bled the colour from her face, making her appear paler than usual. ‘Knock, knock?’ Nina rapped at the open door.
‘Nina.’ Eva looked up with a gracious smile. ‘How lovely.’
‘Happy new year,’ said Nina. ‘This is for you.’ She placed the gift bag of liquorice allsorts beside the water jug on the table. Eva pressed her palms together and her blue eyes lit up. ‘Ooh, such a treat.’
Nina sat on the bed. ‘How are you . . . Eva?’ She’d almost called her Mrs Langley, a hangover from childhood.
‘Not too bad, dear. Not too bad.’ Eva poured a glass of water with an unsteady hand. ‘More importantly, how are things at Billabong? I never get any news from James.’
That’s because your son James couldn’t care less about Billabong, thought Nina. Or you. He’s just waiting for you to die so he can sell the place.
‘I brought you some pictures.’
Billabong Bend Page 3
