by Margaret Way
Carrie with the redhead’s temper felt her teeth go on edge. “A private matter, Mrs. McQuillan, to do with Reggie.”
“Don’t you think you overdo running to Royce?” Lindsey’s remarkable eyes flashed.
“I don’t at all.” Carrie managed to speak calmly. “I can’t see how you can accuse me of that. What is it you really want to talk to me about, Mrs. McQuillan?” No sense in not getting to the point.
“Thank God you’re not stupid!” Lindsey said. “I want to warn you not to go falling in love with Royce. I can’t help thinking you’re well on the way.”
Carrie didn’t even stop to think what she was saying. “It must be the norm around here,” she said wryly. Causing Lindsey to sit high in her armchair.
Her mouth worked for a minute before she could speak. “I beg your pardon?” The expression on her face was of complete shock.
“Look, I don’t want to upset you,” Carrie said, meaning it, “but it’s very obvious you’re attracted to Royce yourself.”
Lindsey sat staring at her. “What a colossal cheek! How dare you!” She was so startled her voice actually shook.
“I’m trying to be a friend to you,” Carrie said quietly. “It’s a sad situation.”
“And none of your business,” Lindsey cried sharply. “I remind you we’re talking about you.”
“Oh, no, not me. I’m not your enemy here, Mrs. McQuillan,” Carrie said. “And I don’t allow women to attack me. You asked for it.”
“And I got it in spades.” Lindsey blinked.
“I’m sorry. I really am.”
“You’ll be sorrier if you ever try to come between Sharon and Royce,” Lindsey warned, a curious, almost exultant expression on her face.
“You mean the ex Mrs. McQuillan?” Carrie pointed out.
“She’s still very much in the picture.” Lindsey laughed.
“I don’t think everyone knows about that,” Carrie answered mildly. “Certainly not Royce.”
This conversation wasn’t going at all as Lindsey intended. “My dear, there’s lots you don’t know,” she said very coldly.
“I daresay there is. But I wouldn’t care to hear it from someone like your friend Ina. I’d watch out for her if I were you.” Carrie threw in a warning of her own.
Lindsey turned an odd colour. “What are you talking about?”
“Just a rumour. Be more careful, she’s not to be trusted.”
Lindsey took a deep shuddering breath, her anger momentarily abated. “Hang on, who’s giving you all this information. Is it Gran? You’re spending more and more time with her.”
Carrie shook her head decisively. “Mrs. McQuillan doesn’t gossip. She loves to tell me stories about the old days on the wilderness coast. I love to listen. It’s a real insight into what must have been a unique way of life. She’s a fascinating woman with many fascinating stories to tell. I enjoy her company and I’ve grown fond of Jada, too. She’s so devoted to Mrs. McQuillan. It’s lovely to see.”
Lindsey’s expression was cynical. “My dear, you don’t think I’ve got the picture? You’ve done everything in your power to ingratiate yourself since you arrived here. You’ve even got poor old Cam eating out of your hand.”
“Your husband is a very nice man, gentle and charming,” Carrie pointed out.
“No he’s not, he’s a bastard,” Lindsey burst out, her face working. “He’s got nothing to offer me! I thought we were going to travel the world. I thought we were going to have a good time. Instead he can’t bear to leave his bloody home. If that isn’t pathetic, what is? God that man has a lot to answer for.”
It was certainly a different point of view. “Surely you can convince him you want a home of your own?” Carrie challenged, feeling the other woman’s inner rage. “You’d feel so much better in different surroundings. Don’t you want children?”
“No, I don’t.” Lindsey sat there, face white. “Children were never on the agenda. I want a life.”
“Then you’d better move away from Maramba,” Carrie suggested. “I’d say right now.”
Lindsey was silent, absorbing Carrie’s frank advice. “Why am I letting you talk to me this way?” she asked finally.
“I expect you need someone to confide in. I’m sympathetic to your plight.”
“Hell, yes.” Lindsey stood up and stalked to the French doors. “You’re in love with him yourself. Don’t bother denying it. We women can read one another like books.”
“Mrs. McQuillan, I’m keeping my head down,” Carrie said. “I’m here as Reggie’s governess. I’m not about to empty my innermost thoughts into your ear. While we’re on the subject of Reggie might I ask you not to fill her head with stories about evil spirits at the bottom of the home lagoon. She pretends to be so confident but she’s only a little girl. It scares her. I can’t begin to teach her to swim.”
“Oh, no, I just thought it was a way of keeping her away from the water,” Lindsey apologised with huge difficulty. “She’s such a mad little devil. In fact she’s a lot like her mother. Sharon is very unstable. If you ask me Sharon’s a manic depressive. If she’s not on some great high, she’s in hell. The child’s the same.”
“I don’t accept that,” Carrie answered flatly. “Reggie has been neglected, starved of a mother’s love.”
Lindsey gave her a bitter smile. “So that’s the plan? You’re going to make yourself indispensable to Reggie so you can get Royce?”
“Looks like our little conversation is over,” Carrie said, standing up. “I’m not a manipulative person. I’m not greedy or ruthless. I don’t have a plan. I have a few demons to wrestle myself before I can even start making plans of my own. I can only tell you I’m not your enemy. Please don’t treat me like one.”
The trip to the rainforest—minus Lindsey—was a wonderful new experience for Carrie and Regina. Royce had organised a guide and he led them through part of one of the last great remaining rainforests of the world. Warm, humid, golden-green, the plant life was overwhelming in its profusion and diversity, the great trees with their crowns interlocking formed the forest canopy covered with other plants, mosses, ferns, orchids, elkhorns and staghorns on a massive scale. Ferns stood the size of trees while the wonderful ancient cycads dominated the lower levels. It was a very hot day when they started on the verge of the wet, but on the rainforest floor everything was quiet and calm. Thick woody vines lay all over the rainforest floor, or hung like gigantic ropes from the trees. Epiphytes heavily adorned the tree trunks or even bare rocks while beautiful posies of flowers, a phenomenon called cauliflory dotted the trunks of the forest giants, climbing a hundred feet or more.
At one point they had to come to a complete halt, Reggie hushed and excited, as a giant bird called a cassowary, black-feathered and flightless with brilliant blue and red colours on its head, neck and wattles, stalked out of the forest undergrowth. They all stood perfectly still, the guide in front, Royce standing protectively in front of Carrie and the child, his arms stretched back. The bird moved quietly, booming and rumbling, obviously looking for food. Five feet tall, heavy birds, cassowaries could be dangerous and were known to attack man if the nest was threatened. But there were innumerable wild fruits in the forest. The cassowary moved off, despite its size difficult to see against the great profusion of plants.
Afterward when Reggie grew tired Royce carried her back to the rainforest edge where butterflies in their thousands, a giant kaleidoscope of colour were swarming all over the massed stands of pink and purple lantana; lace wings, cruisers, birdwings, spotted triangles, the magnificent iridescent blue Ulysses with its huge wingspan. Here, too, in the sunlight they were able to appreciate the brilliant plumage of the birds, so difficult to see in the density of the rainforest branches.
It was a perfect day but that perfection wasn’t to survive the night.
When they arrived back on Maramba, later afternoon, Royce was greeted by his overseer, who appeared to be waiting just for the purpose of telling him a char
ter plane had flown in that afternoon with Mrs. Sharon McQuillan as a passenger.
“Mummy?” Reggie asked in wonderment, her eyes round with surprise.
“She’s got a bloody nerve!” Royce McQuillan muttered, shaking his head disbelievingly, his voice bitter.
“You’re not going to fight, are you, Royce?” Reggie asked after such a happy day, on the verge of tears.
“No of course we’re not, poppet.” He recollected himself instantly. “Let’s go and see what she wants.”
“It can only mean trouble,” he told Carrie, as Reggie made a beeline to get into the Jeep.
Carrie stood her ground, experiencing a whole jumble of perturbing emotions; panic, anxiety, an unwelcome rush of jealousy she couldn’t fight down. Worst of all, she felt threatened. What were the consequences of their own deepening relationship, very serious on her part and, she’d hoped and believed, on his.
“It might be best if you and Reggie keep out of the way until I can see what this is all about.”
“You mean out of sight?” She wasn’t certain how to do it; wasn’t certain she wanted to.
“Sharon didn’t come to see Reggie,” he said bluntly, “hell, don’t you think I want the child to have a loving mother? Tragically that’s not on.”
Somehow they made it into the house without encountering anybody, Royce McQuillan instructing Carrie to take Reggie upstairs.
She obeyed, shaky inside and absorbing the danger. She wanted to stay near him. It was obvious he was deeply disturbed as she was herself. What hold did this woman have over him? She had seen him directing his men, noted his easy bred-in-the-bone authority. He had no problem being master of a great station, but he still had a problem with his ex-wife.
Was it possible he still cared for her? Carrie agonised, painfully aware of her own lack of worldliness. If he did, how could she possibly cope with it? Sharon McQuillan was a woman who damaged lives, but she was very sexy with a lot of style. Also, and Carrie had seen it with her own eyes, Sharon had not succeeded in breaking free of her ex-husband. Were both of them left with feelings they didn’t want? Was it possible Royce McQuillan was out of reach altogether?
Holding Reggie firmly by the hand, praying the child wasn’t going to get out of hand, they made the upper gallery where she saw Jada beckoning to her from the far end.
“Your grandmother wants to see us, Reggie,” Carrie said, going toward the aboriginal woman.
“Gran doesn’t like Mummy.” Reggie spoke huskily, as though her throat was red raw.
“Everything will be all right, darling. Don’t you worry,” Carrie tried to reassure her. “Your mother and father are adults. They can talk in an adult way.”
“You haven’t heard my mummy when she’s mad!” Reggie said, clutching Carrie’s hand tighter. “She can screech like a cat. Maybe she wants to stay?”
“Would you want her to stay?” Carrie asked. Sharon was the child’s mother, for all that.
“Gran said Mummy doesn’t know how to behave,” Reggie said as though that settled it.
“Gran didn’t tell you that?”
“No, she was talking to Royce.”
“You’ll have to stop listening in to the adults’ conversation, Reggie,” Carrie warned. “Think of it as a little sin.”
“No it’s not,” said Reggie. “It’s not at all. It’s my way of finding out what’s going on.” And in its way it was very effective.
Jada let them in to Louise McQuillan’s bedroom. Carrie was quite familiar with the layout of the west wing having spent companionable time with the old lady. She had brought Reggie with her several times and Reggie had behaved. Carrie hoped that state of affairs was going to hold, especially as the old lady looked frailer than ever, almost diminished.
“Sharon is in the house,” she announced, and the words came out like a sad wail.
“I’m sure everything is going to be all right, Mrs. McQuillan.” Carrie went to the old lady and gently took her hand. “You’re upsetting yourself for nothing.”
The old lady gave a hollow laugh. “Difficult not to, my dear.” She lay back on the pillows.
“I’ll look after you, Gran.” Reggie followed Carrie to the bed, speaking amazingly soothingly for such a young child. “Maybe Mummy’s come to be friends?”
Weak tears sprang into Louise McQuillan’s eyes. “You’re a good little girl, Reggie. Would you go with Jada for a minute while I speak to Catrina?”
“Sure, Gran.” Reggie bent over and kissed the old lady’s hand on the coverlet. “What do we do if she wants me back?”
“Would you want to go, Reggie?” Louise McQuillan asked very gently.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” Reggie’s voice trailed off. “Maybe just a holiday. But I don’t want to be away for Christmas. I don’t want to go anywhere without Carrie.” She started to sound agitated.
“Come along, child.” Jada took the little girl’s hand, smiling down at her.
“I’ve got a nice drink for you. Let your gran talk to Carrie now.”
Reggie went off willingly, walking with Jada into the adjoining sitting room.
Louise McQuillan waited until she heard their voices in the next room before she continued. “You haven’t been with us that long, Catrina, but I feel I know you. I trust you. I know you’re mindful of Reggie’s welfare. I have to tell you I’m worried and I can’t hide it. I don’t know what Sharon’s visit means, coming like it does out of the blue. Or worse, someone could be feeding her information. She picked her day. I’d like to think she felt compelled to see her child but we’ve all learned the hard way. My great fear is Sharon is going to try to use Reggie in some way.”
“You mean as leverage, bargaining power?” Carrie asked, not really understanding at all.
“She’s not above it,” Louise McQuillan said. “I want you to stay close to Reggie. Protect her if you can. Protect her from what she might hear.”
Carrie felt brave enough to risk it. “Is there something I don’t know about, Mrs. McQuillan?” she asked simply. “Something that might help me do my job.”
Louise moved her knotted hands. “Just be warned. Royce has a temper. He won’t take too much without exploding. Sharon will do everything in her power to provoke him. She can’t let go but she can never be allowed into this family again.”
“But what about Reggie?” Carrie asked in concern. “Does her mother have no love in her heart for her?”
Louise bit her lip. “The awful truth is Sharon has never wanted Reggie from the moment she was born. She never loved or tended to her. Royce had to get in a nurse. Sharon was treated for postnatal depression though her doctor doubted she had the condition at all. I believe Reggie was an unwanted pregnancy. Poor little Reggie has had to pay the price.”
Carrie looked at her in bewilderment. “But a woman so madly in love with her husband, bearing his child…” It was incomprehensible to Carrie.
“Maybe if she had looked like Sharon.” Louise shredded a tissue. “Sharon was a striking little girl with her dark hair and those ice-blue eyes. Reggie will come into her own when she’s older.”
“Reggie is remarkably intelligent,” Carrie said loyally.
“It might be better if she were just an ordinary little girl,” Louise answered bleakly. “Reggie’s a thinking child. She’s been very badly hurt. Be there for her, Catrina. That’s all I ask.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
MRS. GAINSFORD served them a meal in Carrie’s bedroom, her manner more subdued than ever but surprisingly kind. “I’ve made those noodles you like, Regina,” she said gently, “and a chocolate pudding. I hope you enjoy. Chicken salad for you, Carrie, as it’s too hot. Nice fresh rolls. A family dinner tonight, I understand.” She didn’t mention Sharon but they were all intensely aware of “A Situation.”
After the housekeeper had gone Carrie wheeled the trolley out onto the verandah, pulling up chairs and encouraging Reggie to eat up her meal. She had lost all appetite herself but for the child
’s sake she pretended interest in her meal, which really was delicious, the fresh garden salad flavoured with a piquant Thai dressing. Though she expected to hear a knock on the door at any moment requesting Reggie come down to see her mother, none came. Even Reggie gave up expecting it, making no fuss about going off to bed, closing her eyes as though she wanted to escape the whole unhappy business.
After a stifling night, Carrie was aroused in the early hours by the wind. It gusted into her room at near gale force, lifting the sheer curtains so they danced with spectacular abandon, the edge of one catching an ornament and sending it crashing over.
“Damn and blast!” A little dizzy from the heat and humidity, Carrie pitched the pillow that had been tucked under her head out of the way and leapt out of bed, adrenaline pouring into her body. Now she could see the lightning that momentarily blinded her and bleached the world before disappearing into the walls of jungle. Hastily she closed one side of the French doors, catching the curtains back in their loops. Distant rumbles of thunder were swiftly coming closer.
After the trials of the evening why not a fierce storm? she thought a little desperately. A storm might clear the air but it could be dangerous. Not that she hadn’t lived through many a bad electrical storm at home but she had never seen lightning like that. If her curtains were thrashing about wildly so would Reggie’s. She didn’t want the little girl awake and frightened. With the shutters secured inside the bedroom would be relatively calm and she had turned on the ceiling fan for coolness. The good thing was Reggie, childlike, could sleep through just about anything including morning calls to rouse her.
Without bothering to pull on her robe, Carrie took to the verandah rushing down its length to Reggie’s room, starting back as hundreds of fruit bats who had been feeding on the mangoes, the bananas and the custard apples, flew screeching over the roof in their race for shelter. It did nothing to soothe her agitation. Her hand lifted to her throat as the crickets, the cicadas and the frogs joined in the general din. It all sounded barbarous, an assault on the senses. Lightning flashed again, then a great crack of thunder so loud she thought it might do permanent damage to her ears. Shudders ran up and down her spine. The force of the wind was whipping her long hair, making it sail around her. Her nightdress felt like it was going to be shredded to ribbons. The rain was coming down now. Huge drops that splattered. Even the rain was hot. She rushed for shelter, pitching headlong into someone emerging from Reggie’s room…
