by Margaret Way
The suite was massive, very traditional in design with a colour scheme of bluish-grey and cream. A few paintings hung on the wall—nothing like the eclectic collection in Sandra’s room but a beautiful, eye catching Chinoiserie screen stood beside the white marble fireplace. Over the mantle hung an oil and pencil drawing of a lovely little girl around five years of age with huge blue eyes and a cascade of golden ringlets.
“Recognise me?” she asked.
For a moment he said nothing, seized by a violent rush of tenderness that caught him unawares. He wanted to reach out and touch it, study it up close. There was a magical quality about such sweetness and innocence.
“Daniel?” she prompted. He’d had more than enough time to make a comment.
“Let me look at it properly.” He stalled for time. “Who painted it?”
“A very clever friend of Dad’s who was visiting us. He’s a famous architect now. He lives in Singapore.”
“It’s lovely,” he said, after another pause. “And I get to see your curls.”
“You can see them better here.” She lifted a silver framed photograph off a small circular table which held a collection of other framed photographs and passed it to him. “This is Nikki?” he asked quietly. “Yes.” Her voice turned husky.
“Thank you for showing it to me.” There was a lump in his own throat. He stared down at the recently taken glossy black and white photograph. In it, Sandra’s small face was more gently rounded. She was smiling radiantly. A great cloud of blond hair framed her face and tumbled over her shoulders. Her arms were locked around a little girl obviously in the final stages of the childhood leukaemia that had robbed her of life. The child had huge sorrowful dark eyes but a big smile. She was wearing a beanie to cover the cruel effects of chemotherapy.
“How sad can life get?”
Sandra swallowed on a tight throat. “As soon as my affairs are finalised, I’m making a grant to the Leukaemia Foundation for research on paediatric leukaemia.”
“You should,” he agreed gently. “How did you come to meet Nikki?” He set the framed photograph carefully back on the table.
“It was my last year at uni. A medical school friend rang me one day to ask if I’d consider joining their little group. A few of them entertained sick kids in hospital, played games with them, read to them, sat with them, sang to them, played guitar, anything to take their minds off their suffering. I went along and listened as dying kids poured out their hearts.” She broke off a minute to compose herself. “For some reason they wanted to talk to me. I think it had something to do with my blond hair and blue eyes. One little kid around four asked Anthony, my friend, who always dressed as a clown if I was an angel. Some of our group cracked up it was all so gut wrenching but I couldn’t walk away. The very same day this photo was taken, Anthony shaved off all my hair when he didn’t really want to. He was a little bit in love with me. I’ve got a photo of that as well with all of us laughing and crying at the same time.”
“Well now isn’t this cosy?” A voice rife with sarcasm shattered the moment of closeness. “I haven’t seen so much togetherness in a long, long time.”
Daniel threw back his head, his striking face taut but before he could speak Sandra cut in. “I’m not surprised, Bernie,” she said, turning towards her cousin. He was smirking and boldly wagging a finger. “Togetherness isn’t something I associate with our family. Do you want something?”
Irritation broke over his face. “Call me Berne,” he protested. “I was Bernie when I was a kid. I’m Berne now. I prefer it.”
“Berne it is,” she said crisply. “I was just showing Daniel his room.”
“In case neither of you have noticed, this is yours,” he said, acidly, somewhat stunned by the obvious rapport between Moondai’s overseer and his cousin.
“So it is,” she returned sweetly. “After all, Uncle Lloyd has taken over the master suite.”
“Why not? He’s the rightful master after all,” Berne retaliated.
“Grandad didn’t seem to think so.”
“No, he was too busy scheming with Daniel here, mornings, afternoons, evenings, you name it. Heads together. Black and silver. Grandad always did cut a fine figure. I always thought—”
“Spare us, Berne,” Daniel said, his face strangely impassive. “Your thoughts are way off beam. Your grandfather knew he was dying.”
“He told you?” Sandra and Berne spoke together.
Daniel nodded in a matter of fact way. “Yes, he did. I was to say nothing to no one and I didn’t. It was his wish and his place to tell his family and anyone else he wanted to know. Some days I suppose he thought he mightn’t even last until the morrow. But there were orders to be carried out, decisions to be made. He wasn’t going to be around to be in charge. Consequently there was a lot to talk about.”
“By God you’ve kept a lot to yourself.” Berne hurled the accusation. “My grandfather was good to you. Why?” he demanded, unable to hide his mountain of resentments. “You got paid well enough, so why the quarter of a million?” More than a touch of challenge had entered Berne’s voice. “Was that the dowry price? You could have asked a hell of a lot more.”
His intention was clearly to goad Daniel into speaking out and perhaps revealing too much but Daniel had assumed a different guise even as Berne spoke; detached, businesslike, official, pretty much like Rigby Kingston had been as boss. “Maybe I’d better leave. I just know you’re going to talk absolute drivel.”
“Am I now?” The hot blood rose to Berne’s high cheekbones, but something in Daniel’s body language sent him back to the doorway where he turned for the final word. “Makes sense to me. Think about it, cousin.” He shot a glance at Sandra who was balancing some bronze object in her hand as though she meant to throw it. “Make sense to you? Of course you won’t get anything out of Daniel on the subject, but denials. But how many girls want to believe their future husbands were bought for them?”
“You don’t think the plan a bit tricky, Berne? As far as I’m concerned marriage is the kiss of death. More than half of all marriages today end in divorce. Quite apart from that, how could Grandad possibly imagine he could so easily manipulate two people? Hypothetical question as I don’t believe for a minute there’s even a grain of truth in your theory.”
“There isn’t,” Daniel confirmed with quiet contempt.
“Don’t believe him, cousin,” Berne warned, pleased to have stirred up a hornet’s nest. “Listen to your inner voice. See it my way and it all starts to make sense. Didn’t Grandad love playing God?’
“That he did,” Sandra said, wondering if she could possibly be blinding herself to what she didn’t want to see. After all, it did happen. She raked a hand through the silk floss of her hair, wanting to cling to her natural instincts to trust Daniel.
Berne nodded, as though he had won an important point. “You said it. This whole thing smacks of a deal … a marriage of convenience?”
Sandra stared at him while Daniel clenched his fists, looking like he was struggling hard not to lash out. “I’m not bothered by what you think, Berne. Ms Kingston’s trust, however, is important to me.”
Sandra spoke up. “There’s no need to call me Ms Kingston at any time, Daniel, I know why you’re unwilling to call me by my Christian name in front of the family and staff but it simply doesn’t matter to me. I need guidance and I’m willing to take it from you, Daniel. I trust you.” For some reason she felt very close to tears, but no way was she going to allow them to fall.
“That’s a mistake.” Berne frowned fiercely, jealous of her taking sides. “You’re a Kingston. You own the station. He’s an employee.”
“An indispensable one Berne, lest you forget. I don’t have a problem with Daniel calling me Sandra. The one person who knew exactly what he intended when he left Moondai to me, was Grandad. Have you bothered to consider he might have wanted to make reparation. After all, he did kick us out.”
“With a trust fund,” Berne was driven
to shouting. “You weren’t chucked out into the snow. Grandad didn’t want to lay eyes on you and your playgirl mother but he made sure you were provided for.”
All trace of colour left Sandra’s cheeks. “You’re lying.”
“Lying? Why would I be lying?” Berne gave her a weird look. “It’s easily proved. Grandad wasn’t going to let you starve. You went to all the best schools didn’t you? I know you were kicked out of two. You went on to university. Where the hell did you think the money was coming from? Come on tell me. You’re supposed to be so bright.”
Daniel intervened, holding up his palm to Berne so Sandra could speak. “Did your mother never tell you this, Sandra?”
She shook her head wretchedly. “I was ten, Daniel. We always had money. I never knew any other life. My mother told me it was my father’s money. I accepted that. Why wouldn’t I? When she remarried she married money. That was her way. I had part-time jobs all the time I was at university so I wouldn’t be too much of a burden. I never thought Grandad was continuing to look out for us.”
“Well he was,” Berne said, sounding equally wretched.
“Your mother should have told you, Sandra,” Daniel said. “She had a duty to tell you.”
“Shameless bitch!” Berne muttered. “Never did tell the truth. All she was ever interested in was herself. Dad was right about her. You should think about it instead of blaming Dad.”
“I love my mother, Berne,” Sandra said, unable to disentangle herself from the ties that bind.
“Fine!” he fumed. “I know you can love someone and be disgusted with them at the same time. Why did Grandad bypass me for you? Sons and grandsons always have the inside track.”
“I know they do,” Sandra acknowledged. “Maybe Grandad knew I was the most likely to try to hold on to our inheritance. The Kingston inheritance. Kingstons are buried here, Berne. Do we walk away from Moondai and leave them here?”
Berne gave a strangled laugh. “They’re dead, Sandra. They’re gone forever. They don’t know and they don’t care.”
“But I care,” Sandra said. “I want to be loyal to my ancestors, to my dad and my grandfather, harsh though he was to us. I don’t want to betray them.”
“You’re too young to be such a sentimental fool,” Berne said in disgust. “The dead are dead. No way do they care about our actions. As for Daniel here—” he shot Daniel a glowering look “—he’s a fast worker. I’m betting he was offered the deal of a lifetime on a silver platter. He gets Moondai but you’re part of the package. He couldn’t have imagined such a scenario in his wildest dreams. But a word of caution.”
“Okay, let’s hear it, Berne,” Daniel clipped off, looking like he was more than ready to hear it and deal with it if needs be.
“It’s for my cousin, pal,” Berne emphasized, predisposed to hating Daniel Carson for so many reasons; showing him up without even trying, relating so easily to his grandfather when Rigby Kingston had produced awe, fear and a great deal of anxiety in him and everyone else, and just to compound the problem, it appeared very much like Daniel had Sandra sold on him on sight. It tied Berne in knots and made him doubly aggressive. “We don’t know anything much about you, do we, Dan?” he charged. “You’re a dark horse if ever there was one. Grandad accepted you on the word of a fellow cattleman. So you did a good job in the Channel Country? I guess you’ve always been hell-bent on climbing the ladder. Personally I think you should be investigated. Most people have things to hide. We know nothing about your background for instance. Sandra should make it her business to find out.”
But Sandra was reeling from Berne’s disclosures. “You think Grandad didn’t check Daniel out?” she asked, staring at her cousin.
Berne shrugged. “It was different with Grandad. No man had power over him, but from what I can see Daniel has power over you already.”
“He must if you say so, Berne.” She looked at her cousin with acute distaste. The charge stung like a whip because it was true.
“Look how you treat him for God’s sake!” Berne wheeled a half circle in his rage. “You’ve installed him in the house. It would never have happened in Grandad’s day. Dad certainly wouldn’t have allowed it. Daniel is staff. He’s got the overseer’s bungalow. It’s good enough for him.”
Sandra noted the sharp shift in Daniel’s lean powerful body. She moved to stand between them. If there was any physical confrontation she knew Berne would come off second best. “Let’s say I want Daniel on call, Berne. Not a good distance away. Yesterday we crash landed in a crocodile infested swamp. Incredibly Daniel was able to bring the chopper down in a clearing the size of a bathtub. The sad thing is, it’s my family I don’t trust. There’s a great deal at stake here. You and Uncle Lloyd did handsomely out of Grandad’s will as you should, but you’re filled with bitter resentments. I understand that. I got the lion’s share. But I think most people in my position would find themselves with a few more fears than they started out with. I’ve made a judgment in regards Daniel. I’ve elected to trust him.”
“More fool’s you!” Berne’s voice trembled with anger. “It’s just as I said. He’s got to you already. Just be careful, cousin. That’s all I’m saying.”
“What have I got to gain from something happening to Sandra, Berne?” Daniel asked in a voice that would have brought anyone up short.
“Not now. Not yet,” Berne said obscurely, turning to go.
“If you’ve got concerns why don’t you go to the authorities?” Daniel began to move towards him.
“Daniel, please.” Sandra grasped his arm. “I will be careful, Berne. I don’t need you to tell me. My mother has always believed the Cessna was sabotaged when Dad was flying it. That means someone got away with a crime.” Even as she said it Sandra felt shame. Berne had had nothing to do with it even if he had been an awful kid, jealous, resentful, always spoiling for a fight.
“That’s your stupid mother talking,” Berne rasped, his tanned skin turning white. “You might have a little chat with her. You talk about untrustworthy? You can’t go past her. Uncle Trevor wasn’t supposed to make that trip anyway. It was Grandad.” He punched the words out, turned on his heel and stomped off down the hall.
For a moment Sandra couldn’t catch her breath. Confusion was growing at such a rate of intensity her mind was in turmoil. “Could that possibly be true?” she managed eventually. “Have you ever heard it?” Her legs felt so wobbly she had to sit down.
“Never.” Daniel’s voice was rough with concern. “And I’ve heard plenty of talk. Don’t upset yourself, Sandra. You’ve gone very pale.”
“Why would he say it?” She searched those silver-grey eyes.
“God knows.” Daniel could see the shock in her. There were far too many revelations for her to handle all at once. “He’s been making a lot of wild accusations.” “So that’s it, wild accusations?”
He saw the doubts that brushed her expression. Doubts that made something flare deep in his eyes. “So who should you believe, Sandra?” he asked in a dead-serious voice. “Because it’s you who has to decide.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
IN THE days that followed Sandra had plenty of time to mull over Berne’s revelations. Had it really been her grandfather and not her father who was to have flown to the Kingston outstation that fateful day? Her grandfather had long been accustomed to flying off on regular inspections, often without notice because he took pleasure in catching the staff on the hop. On numerous occasions he had taken her father along with him. As the heir apparent, her father was being groomed to one day take over the reins. Berne had sounded so sure. She struggled to understand how, if that were so, her mother had been able to maintain her silence.
She had lost no time ringing her mother in an effort to set the record straight. Just as she feared, immediately she broached the subject, her mother became highly emotional. That was Pam’s way of protecting herself from being questioned too closely. Pam invariably resorted to controlled hysteria. She swore she knew noth
ing of the change of plan. When asked about where their money had come from after they left Moondai, she had flown into a fit of defensiveness saying she had never spoken to Sandra about financial matters because they simply weren’t her concern. Whatever lines of credit Rigby Kingston had made available, it was his duty to do so. He was a hateful man. Pam was overjoyed he was dead. Sandra deserved everything that had come her way. Moondai would have gone to her father in any case. Sandra should not upset her like this. That part of her life as a Kingston was long over. Besides, Mickey had chicken pox and needed her attention.
All in all the phone call had been a stomach churning disaster. Her mother had even been crass enough to call her stepfather to the phone to say a few affectionate words, but Sandra had all but hurled the phone down, thinking though she loved her mother Pam was a fool. It made life so much easier if one didn’t have to look truth in the face.
The upshot was Sandra felt desperate to get confirmation from her uncle. Daniel had urged her to do so, but somehow she always baulked at the last moment. If Berne’s claim was true and not made up on the spur of the moment, it would open up an entirely new avenue of thought. Her grandfather had made enemies over the years. He had never been what one would call popular. In fact a lot of people wouldn’t have been upset by his demise. But surely his son wouldn’t have conspired against him? Her father had been without question, the favourite, but by no means had Rigby Kingston closed the door on his younger son. Though Lloyd’s consuming interest in cataloguing the native flora had been a mystery and an irritation to his father, Lloyd had been allowed to make his numerous field trips and tour the country at will. They all lived in what most people would consider, splendour, all financed by Rigby Kingston, notoriously miserly in some areas and surprisingly generous in others.
Mystery piled on top of mystery. It was those closest to Sandra she felt she couldn’t trust. Not even Elsa who lived on the periphery of everyone’s attention. In some ways Elsa was like a resident ghost, forever hovering about without really being seen or heard. Whatever had happened to the handsome, hardworking, businesswoman of yesterday? Happiness had passed Elsa by. But what had actually happened to cause her to pass from one state to the other? Certainly her grandfather had been an autocratic man but one would have thought Elsa in her mid-forties when they married would have been able to cope with him? There must have been attraction between them for them to have married in the first place. Instead Elsa had turned into a watcher, not a doer as hollowed out inside as if she’d been gutted. That in itself was a mystery. The empty shell of her marriage was now over, but still Elsa made no move to get on with a new and better life.
