Her Outback Rescuer

by Marion Lennox

  ‘We haven’t seen you in society circles,’ someone else yelled. ‘Are you Australian?’

  She couldn’t answer. This was worse than appalling, she thought as Rachel shielded her as best she could and Raymond steered them towards the train. This was a vortex, about to suck her in.

  Hugo hated publicity. She’d landed him in it. But then, she thought, she’d landed herself in it. Compared to her, in the photo Hugo looked almost respectable. And he’d walked away?

  She was the one who’d been caught in the train corridor in pink pyjamas.

  She couldn’t be angry. Hugo had been helping save her dog, she told herself. But still...it hurt, that he was striding away, leaving her to face this alone.

  And Rachel was wilting.

  They needed to get on the train.

  ‘Run for it,’ Raymond said grimly.

  They ran.

  * * *

  He felt cold and sick and tired. Hugo ushered Maud onto the train and he thought: that’s that. Over.

  ‘Why did you leave them?’ Maud had found herself propelled onto the train, into their cabin, almost before she knew what had happened and she sounded stunned.

  ‘I don’t want photographs of me with Amy. It’ll feed the frenzy.’

  ‘It will,’ Maud agreed, but she was already eyeing her grandson with disapproval. ‘But you need to face them some time.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you and Amy...’

  ‘There is no me and Amy,’ Hugo snapped and his grandmother stilled.

  ‘So last night...you made love to her and now you’re walking away?’

  She’d guessed, Hugo thought bleakly. Of course she’d guessed.

  ‘Last night was a mistake.’

  What had he been thinking? He’d seen Amy’s face as she saw the billboards. For all her bravado about the way he should face the press, when it came to reality she’d come close to collapse. How had he ever thought he could do that to her? ‘I was looking for something I can’t have,’ he said.

  ‘So have you told Amy last night was a mistake?’

  ‘This is my...’

  ‘Don’t you dare say this is not my business,’ she snapped. ‘Amy’s lovely. I won’t have you treating her like a tramp.’

  ‘She is lovely,’ Hugo agreed. ‘That’s why last night happened but it shouldn’t have. That’s why I need to walk away.’

  ‘So you’ll write her a polite note?’ She was practically seething.

  ‘I’ll talk to her, but not on this train.’

  ‘So how do you think she’s feeling now?’

  ‘Exposed,’ he snapped. ‘She’s been photographed in her pyjamas, and that photograph will be spread all over Australia. You know what that sort of publicity causes.’

  ‘No,’ Maud said carefully. ‘Tell me.’

  He gritted his teeth, wanting to shut up, wanting to retreat. Maud was probably the only person in the world who’d make him answer.

  ‘You’ve watched my father’s women,’ he said. ‘You saw what happened. My mother... All the rest... So many.’

  ‘Your father was a fool,’ Maud snapped. ‘And his women... They didn’t handle the media spotlight well.’

  ‘Well? Are you kidding? It destroyed them.’

  ‘It didn’t destroy me.’

  ‘You were introduced to it gradually and you’re different. You have strength.’

  ‘You’re saying,’ Maud said cautiously, ‘that because I’m six feet tall and toughened by years of exposure, I can handle the media, and because Amy’s five feet four and cute and blonde, she can’t.’

  ‘Yes!’ He groaned. ‘You saw her face when she saw the billboards. She loathed it.’

  ‘So she needs to find a respectable wrap when she wears pyjamas on trains. You’re being insulting.’

  ‘I’m being realistic.’

  ‘You’re shooting yourself in the foot,’ Maud said darkly. ‘Not giving her a chance.’

  ‘Grandma, I’ve told you I’m quitting the army,’ Hugo said wearily. ‘I’ve told you I’ll take on this lifestyle, but I don’t have to drag anyone else into it.’

  ‘Maybe she wouldn’t have to be dragged. Amy’s special. You know she is.’

  ‘Maybe she is,’ Hugo said. ‘And maybe that’s why I won’t destroy her.’

  * * *

  Their cabin was Platinum Class, as promised, and it was almost as sumptuous as the one Maud and Hugo had used on the Adelaide-Alice Springs run.

  They had vast picture windows to watch the desert. They had room service. They could batten down and stay put. Which was just as well, Amy thought. She’d heard the talk as the Platinum butler showed them to their cabin. Everyone who saw them was asking the same.

  ‘That’s Thurston’s pyjama girl. Who is she?’

  A newspaper was provided in their cabin and she read the article with disbelief.

  The caption read: ‘Who’s PJ?’

  Major Hugo Thurston, heir to the Thurston empire, is currently travelling north on the Ghan. He was photographed five nights ago in a midnight assignation with an unknown pyjama girl. Who is this woman who’s attracted the attention of Australia’s most eligible bachelor?

  Luckily the photo wasn’t great. Hugo was in focus but Amy wasn’t. Her curls hadn’t been combed after washing and they were drifting over her face. When she was dancing she wore her hair groomed tightly back. From this picture, she doubted anyone in her dancing world would recognise her.

  Back at the station... She and Rachel had covered their faces as soon as they’d realised cameras were pointing at them. Raymond had shielded them. Maybe the anonymous pyjama girl could stay anonymous.

  Maybe her pyjamas wouldn’t have consequences.

  They already had had consequences.

  She looked at the picture again and winced. Woman who’s attracted the attention of Australia’s most eligible bachelor... Maybe Hugo was right to stride away the moment the press appeared.

  Maybe he was but it didn’t make her feel good.

  ‘I wonder where they are,’ Rachel said, and Amy sighed. They. The two new people in Rachel’s life. Maud and Hugo had made Rachel happy. She should be grateful, but right now she was thinking of Hugo as he strode away and she wasn’t feeling grateful at all.

  ‘I suspect he saw this picture and decided the peasants are revolting,’ she ventured.

  Rachel smiled. ‘Hugo’s not like that. You know he’s not. He’s treated us as equals from the start. He’s gorgeous, Ames.’

  ‘And you of all people know where gorgeous gets you,’ Amy said shortly. ‘Didn’t we make a vow about falling...’

  ‘We made a vow not to be stupid,’ Rachel retorted. ‘Falling for Hugo’s not stupid.’

  ‘It is if he doesn’t want me.’ There, it was said, loud and clear. The words hung between them as the full import of what she’d admitted sank in.

  At their feet, Buster was examining his new quarters with enthusiasm. He was obviously a dog who approved of luxury.

  Not Amy.

  ‘This is Hugo’s world,’ Amy whispered. ‘It’s not my world. I’m the unknown pyjama girl on the front of the newspaper.’

  ‘You’re better than that,’ Rachel said and hugged her. ‘Hugo knows you’re special.’

  ‘He feels exposed,’ she said. ‘I know he does. And to have someone with him...someone like the pyjama girl...that’ll make him even more exposed.’

  ‘But if he loves
you...’

  ‘No,’ she said, hauling herself together, trying to think logically. Last night Hugo had fed her strength and she’d done the same for him, but there’d been no commitment. There wasn’t a need for commitment. They were moving in separate directions. She hadn’t expected the separation to happen quite so soon, but it did have to happen. So why not now?

  ‘We had a great time,’ she said, picking Buster up and hugging him. ‘It was an awesome adventure, but Hugo Thurston’s pyjama girl is not who I am. I’m Amy Cotton, sister to Rachel, half mum to Buster, and we’re on the Ghan and we’re heading for the next amazing part of our lives.’

  ‘Without Maud?’ Rachel said in a small voice. ‘And without Hugo?’

  ‘Without the Thurstons,’ Amy said. ‘Exactly.’

  * * *

  Maud bullied Hugo back to the dining car for meals but Rachel and Amy didn’t show.

  It was just as well, Hugo thought grimly. The eyes of half the people on this train were watching. If Amy appeared...even if she sat at the other end of the dining car to him...there’d be photographs taken.

  Of his pyjama girl.

  Who was she? The tabloids were demanding an answer. Thankfully, the Ghan had strict policies about releasing passenger details. If she kept to herself for the rest of the trip, if she and Rachel got a cab away from the station when they reached Darwin and went in the opposite direction to him, this whole media fuss would die down.

  ‘Ask them to join us in our cabin,’ Maud demanded after dinner and he shook his head.

  ‘Maud, you of all people know what the media is like. They’ll be paying people to watch.’

  ‘Then it serves you right for being so interesting,’ Maud snapped. ‘You should have married a mousey girl with dubious clothes sense fifteen years ago. Instead of which, you disappear, you turn into a commando, you come home as a billionaire and unattached... Of course the media’s interested. Just be boring.’

  ‘I am being boring. I’ll play Scrabble with you and go to bed.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool.’

  ‘It’s not foolish to figure I’m not dragging anyone else into this life.’

  ‘It didn’t kill me. Or James.’ Maud allowed herself a wintry smile. ‘Sometimes we even enjoyed it.’

  ‘You were born strong and you grew stronger.’

  ‘You won’t give Amy the benefit of the doubt and assume she can be just as strong?’

  ‘You saw her cringe when she saw the posters.’

  ‘I’d cringe, too, if I faced photographers in my pyjamas. You’ll get better at avoiding that nonsense. Hire the girl a hairdresser. Spend some serious money on clothes.’

  ‘Turn her into one of my father’s bimbos?’

  ‘Are you saying,’ Maud said carefully, ‘that you’re equating hairdressers and clothes with your father’s women? I’ve spent serious money on clothes and hairdressers, I’ve enjoyed every minute of it and I don’t believe for one moment that I’m a bimbo. And to equate Amy...that’s almost as insulting. She has strength. She’ll learn how to cope with the media, as will you.’

  ‘I need to. She doesn’t.’

  ‘She does if she wants to share your life.’

  ‘I won’t ask it of her.’

  ‘And she gets no say?’

  ‘Dammit, Grandma, I haven’t even figured how I’m going to cope with this life myself yet,’ he exploded. ‘It’s far too soon to be dragging a woman into it as well.’

  ‘If you’re thinking of dragging Amy anywhere...’

  ‘No,’ he said and raked his hair. His hair was getting pretty severely raked right now. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘She won’t be dragged. She’s one amazing woman.’

  ‘She is, but I don’t need a woman.’

  ‘Liar,’ Maud said and gave him a really disgusted look and went to bed.

  * * *

  Playing Scrabble by yourself was pretty much impossible.

  He cheated. He reported himself to himself, disqualified himself and tried to read. His crime thriller hadn’t grown any more thrilling since the last time he’d tried.

  He did some desultory work on his laptop. It grew more and more desultory.

  Somewhere in this carriage was Amy. It wouldn’t be so hard to find her.

  The butler would probably have a cellphone camera and there’d be more problems.

  Yeah, but... But...

  He sat and stared at the Scrabble board—and saw Amy.

  A knock. Amy? He was on his feet by the second rap, only to hear a man’s voice. ‘Major Thurston?’

  He shoved back a slump of disappointment and opened the door to the Platinum butler.

  ‘I have a message,’ the man said, trying to sound bland and official. ‘From Miss Cotton. She says...’ He hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure he had the message right. As if he couldn’t believe the message. ‘She says you have her steak sandwich. I’ve offered her another from cabin service but she seems to think the...the sandwich you have is preferable. Would you like me to take it to her, sir?’

  Despite his attempt to sound official, the man looked astounded, even disdainful, and Hugo came close to grinning as he realised what Amy wanted.

  He’d packed Buster’s dog food into his kitbag when they’d left Uluru. He’d forgotten about it. Buster would be hungry.

  Some things couldn’t be tolerated. Buster. Hunger. Before he could think of sense and prudence, he heard himself offer, ‘I’ll take it to her.’

  Hang on a minute. Wasn’t that what he’d vowed not to do?

  Whatever. A man had to do what a man had to do. Buster without food was an emergency.

  ‘We have sandwiches on board,’ the man said stiffly.

  ‘But our cook back at Uluru makes gourmet sandwiches,’ Hugo told him. ‘You can’t compete. Tell me what cabin she’s in.’

  This made sense, he told himself. It was late. Almost everyone was in their cabins with the door shut. He could give the dog food to her and leave.

  He thought of her face back at Alice Springs as she’d seen the billboards. He needed to apologise.

  Tomorrow the journey would be over and she’d be gone. The thought of seeing her one last time was irresistible.

  * * *

  Amy opened the door with caution, expecting the po-faced butler and a parcel of dog food—but it was Hugo. He was right in the doorway, big and weathered and...Hugo.

  She took an involuntary step back.

  He didn’t follow her in. He simply stood in the doorway and waited for her to collect herself.

  At least she wasn’t in pyjamas this time, she thought wildly. She had more sense.

  She shouldn’t even have contacted him. She’d fed Buster a little of their dinner but Buster was a creature of habit. Titbits were titbits and dinner was dinner, and he wouldn’t sleep without a proper meal. And they’d need the dog food tomorrow. ‘Go get it,’ Rachel had said, but Amy had more sense than that. She’d sent the butler.

  And got Hugo instead.

  ‘Dinner, m’lady?’ Hugo said, smiling that gorgeous sardonic smile that had her heart doing back-flips.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, feeling panicked. She grabbed the parcel and tried to shut the door.

  He moved in, just a little, just enough to make it impossible to close him out.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘For hanging onto Buster’s food?’ she managed. ‘So you should be.’

 
‘For the media hype. For the pyjamas.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who wore pink satin.’

  ‘They wouldn’t have taken the picture if you hadn’t been with me.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘They wouldn’t.’

  ‘That’s why I left you on the platform,’ he said. ‘We don’t want to give them any more fodder.’

  ‘Don’t we?’

  He paused. ‘Maybe we do,’ he said at last, in a voice she didn’t recognise. ‘Maybe you’d like publicity.’

  She froze. ‘You think I like being photographed in pyjamas?’

  He thought back to all the women his father had dated. He thought for just a moment too long.

  ‘You do,’ she muttered and tried again to haul the door closed.

  ‘Amy, I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry, too. Let me close the door.’

  ‘Let me come in.’

  ‘No way. Someone might see. There’ll be a picture of a closed door in tomorrow’s papers.’

  ‘You’re right. There would be.’

  ‘So what?’ It was almost a yell, and he did step back. She hauled at the door, but he shoved his foot in before she succeeded.

  ‘Amy, you don’t want this life.’

  What was he talking about? ‘Platinum?’ she demanded, glancing behind her at the plush furnishings. ‘Of course I don’t. What can I have been thinking? Cattle class is for the likes of me.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘What did you mean?’

  ‘If you and I took things further...’

  ‘That’s weird.’ Anger was coming to her aid now, fury plain and simple. ‘I thought we already did take it further. How much further can I go than sleeping with you?’

  All the doors in the corridor were closed. Maybe no one could hear, but if they could, maybe she didn’t care. The moment at the station where he’d seen the image on the billboards and walked away fast... It hurt. It hurt still.