Dreamscapes

by Tamara McKinley

  ‘Thank you, Billy,’ she gasped as she mopped her face with a handkerchief and tried to get the worst of the dust out of her eyes. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without your help.’

  ‘No worries,’ he drawled. ‘You alonga missus. She need you, I reckon.’

  ‘Come on, Hat,’ yelled Rosa. ‘I’m going to give those dickheads a piece of my mind.’

  ‘I’ll catch you up when I’ve seen to the horses,’ shouted Connor to their retreating backs. ‘And be nice, Rosa,’ he added. ‘Remember you’re supposed to be a lady,’ he muttered to himself.

  ‘Like hell I will,’ Rosa retorted.

  Harriet was in no mood for polite conversation either. She hadn’t appreciated the noise and the potential danger all of them had been in because of the idiots in that helicopter, and with every stride through the long grass, her temper grew.

  The blades were still turning, the clattering down-draught battering them as they were forced to come to a halt on the edge of the paddock. The door opened and two figures emerged. They were bent double as they ran from beneath the blades to safety, their backpacks bumping them as they moved. ‘Looks like they’re planning on staying,’ Rosa snapped. ‘What do they think this is, a bloody camp-site?’

  Harriet’s reply was lost in the roar of the helicopter engine as the machine rose once again and headed back over the hills. She and Rosa turned their backs, their hair whipping their faces in the thrusting wind that threatened to knock them down.

  ‘Sorry about that. I hope no one was hurt?’

  Harriet and Rosa turned as one and glared at the dark-haired man. ‘More by luck than sodding judgement,’ yelled Rosa above the noise.

  ‘What the hell did you think you were doing, bringing that thing so close to the homestead and stables? Of all the stupid, thoughtless, ignorant, idiotic …’ Harriet found she’d run out of words as she became aware of the amusement in the brown eyes that looked so steadily down at her.

  His companion finally turned round. ‘I did tell that idiot pilot it wasn’t a good idea,’ she said. ‘But like all men, he thought he knew better.’

  ‘Belinda!’ They both rushed forward and enveloped her in a group hug. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?’ asked Rosa as she pulled away. ‘You said you couldn’t come.’

  Belinda grinned and tried to bring some order to her hair. ‘I know,’ she said ruefully. ‘But something came up.’

  ‘What’s with the chopper?’ demanded Harriet, glaring once more at the man by her side. ‘And who’s this?’

  A hand was thrust forward. ‘Detective Inspector Tom Bradley,’ he said. ‘Sorry about that, but Sam gets a bit carried away.’ He grinned. ‘Still thinks he’s in ’Nam.’

  *

  Tom was lost in a pair of blue eyes. He could see flecks of green and violet and was reminded of a stormy sea. He noticed how the sun glinted gold in the thick eyelashes, and how the sprinkling of freckles enhanced the delicate skin of that beautiful, dusty face. Her hair was long, tumbling about her shoulders in a blonde mass, tendrils of which snaked to caress her cheek and kiss the very corners of her delicately formed mouth. He wanted more than anything to be that golden tendril. Wanted to watch those eyes and see them change with her mood. The sharp dig in his ribs jolted him back to reality. He hadn’t heard a thing that had been said. He glanced at Belinda, saw the amusement in her eyes and reddened as he realised he was still holding the blonde woman’s hand. He cleared his throat. ‘G’day,’ he said. ‘Call me Tom.’

  Her grasp was firm, the handshake almost brusque, yet it had been enough to send a shock wave through him. ‘Harriet,’ she said without a smile. ‘This is Rosa.’

  Tom dragged his attention from Harriet and looked down into an elfin face and intelligent eyes. ‘Good to meet you,’ he drawled. ‘I’m sorry about that.’ It was interesting at last to put a face to the person he’d heard about from Belinda, but as attractive as she was she was no match for Harriet, and he found he couldn’t help but glance over to her, hoping for one more chance to look into her eyes.

  ‘I didn’t realise you had a boyfriend, Belinda,’ said Rosa, digging her friend in the ribs with a sharp elbow. ‘You kept him quiet. What’s wrong with him?’

  Belinda picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. ‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ she hissed. ‘He’s my boss.’

  ‘Your boss?’ Rosa and Harriet turned to look at him. ‘Why did you bring your boss to Mum’s party?’ There was a moment of awkward silence before Rosa spoke again. ‘This isn’t a social call, is it, Belinda.’

  ‘No,’ butted in Tom hastily. ‘Look, it’s nothing dramatic, so there’s no need to get your knickers into a twist. We just need to talk to Dame Catriona.’

  ‘Why?’ Harriet faced him, her expression fixed, her magnificent eyes regarding him fiercely.

  ‘That’s something I can only discuss with Dame Catriona,’ he replied, his eyes pleading with her to try and understand his predicament. ‘My boss thought it was a good idea for us to come out here and talk to her. Belinda’s here because I asked her to come.’

  ‘How could you, Belinda?’ Rosa’s arms were folded, her stance defensive. ‘Why didn’t you at least phone and give us a bit of a warning?’

  ‘I did,’ she replied. ‘I spoke to Catriona yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘She never said anything,’ muttered Harriet, the golden lashes sparking in the sun.

  Tom was drowning again and had to make a concerted effort to remain fully in control of his thoughts, and the situation. ‘I have the greatest respect for Catriona Summers,’ he said firmly. ‘And have absolutely no intention of being underhand about this. I would really like you to understand that neither I or Belinda will do anything to upset her. But I have a job to do.’

  *

  Harriet noticed the way the sun struck gold in the brown eyes, and how stray threads of silver sparked in the tousled hair at his temples. The touch of his hand had been fleeting as they were introduced, but she’d had the impression of strength, of honesty and earnestness in that firm grip. Now she recognised the tight control over his emotions as he pleaded his case. There was something about Tom Bradley she found infinitely appealing, and even though their acquaintance was fleeting, she felt a strangely deep conviction that she could trust him.

  ‘It’s up to Catriona,’ she said as the brown eyes held her. ‘But as her lawyers, we are entitled to be there at all times if she decides to co-operate with you.’

  He smiled, his face lighting up, the dark eyes lively with relief. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me,’ said Harriet with a returning smile. ‘Catriona hasn’t agreed to anything yet and none of us has the slightest idea of what is going on.’ It was a broad hint, one that was studiously ignored by both officers.

  *

  Connor’s knee was on fire. In his fear, the horse had kicked him, and had caught the old scar with one hell of a wallop. He limped over from the corrals, determined to sort out the fools who’d caused such chaos in his yard. He could see the man clearly, but his companion, a woman, was standing in his shadow. No matter, he thought crossly. He’d give them both a large piece of his mind and send them packing.

  He was within yards of the small group on the edge of the paddock when the woman emerged from the shadows. There was something familiar about her he couldn’t place but he knew that if he’d seen her before, he would have remembered her. She was gorgeous. Nevertheless, he was not going to let that deter him. ‘I’m the manager here,’ he yelled. ‘And next time you mongrels land a ’copter in one of my fields, I’ll sue the pants off you.’

  ‘Promises, promises. G’day, Connor. How y’goin’?’

  He came to an abrupt halt. There was no mistaking that voice. ‘Belinda?’ He gaped at the luscious figure in the tight jeans, the beautiful face and halo of dark curls.

  ‘Got it in one. Long time, no see, Con.’ She grinned. ‘Careful, mate, you’ll catch flies.’

  He snappe
d his mouth shut, and blushed furiously. That had certainly taken the wind out of his argument and no mistake. Yet he couldn’t stop looking at her. Surely this couldn’t really be that awful little fat pest who used to follow him around and make his life a misery?

  ‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ she teased as if she could read his thoughts.

  ‘Let the dog see the rabbit,’ shouted Catriona as she ran through them and hugged Belinda. ‘It’s so lovely to see you again after so long,’ she breathed into the thick hair. She drew back and studied her. ‘Whew,’ she said. ‘No wonder you’ve knocked Connor sideways. The last time I saw you, you had plaits and were charging about in dungarees.’

  Belinda hugged her swiftly and then stood back again and studied her with disconcerting honesty. ‘Look, Catriona,’ she began. ‘I didn’t want any of this, but I thought it best if I came to make sure you were OK.’ She glanced across at Tom. ‘Me and Tom have taken a few days out of our holiday entitlement to be here, so it’s unofficial, official business, if you see what I mean. And I’m sorry it’s come at the wrong time. I’d forgotten about your birthday party.’

  Catriona shook her head. ‘No worries, darling. I know this is none of your doing.’

  Connor realised there was little point in trying to make sense of exactly what was going on. Belinda was obviously here on police business, but what on earth it had to do with Ma, he had no idea. No doubt someone would tell him sooner or later. He looked at Belinda and her expressive eyes glinted. Connor found he was grinning back. This grown-up, gorgeous Belinda was easy to like, and he admired her style. He eyed the heavy rucksack at her feet and reached to pick it up.

  Belinda got there first. ‘Nah. You’re right. I can manage,’ she said cheerfully as she swung it easily onto her back. ‘But I could do with the bathroom.’ She grimaced. ‘Hate flying. Hate helicopters even more. Feeling a bit crook, if you know what I mean.’

  He looked at her more closely and noticed the green tinge around the expressive mouth. ‘Better come up to the homestead. You can use your old room.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she muttered. With the heavy bag bouncing on her back, she matched him stride for stride as they led the way to the homestead.

  *

  Rosa slowly followed her brother and Belinda across the yard. What the hell was going on? Mum obviously knew what it was all about, and would no doubt enlighten them when she felt the need, but it was frustrating not to be in charge of all the facts, especially since Harriet had told Bradley they were Catriona’s solicitors. She snapped out of her thoughts when she realised the policeman was walking beside her. She eyed the bulky haversack he carried on his back. ‘You’d better dump that over at the bunkhouse. We don’t have guest accommodation here.’

  Tom didn’t seem at all put out by her sharpness. ‘I brought a tent,’ he replied.

  ‘Well, aren’t you the boy scout?’ she said with scorn.

  ‘Nothing wrong with being prepared for every eventuality,’ he countered.

  Harriet stepped between them. ‘Time out, guys.’ She smiled and shook her head. ‘You sound like a couple of kids. How about a cup of tea, Rosa? I’m sure we could all do with one.’

  ‘That sounds an excellent idea,’ said Catriona. ‘And how very thoughtful of you to make your own sleeping arrangements, Tom,’ she said with a smile. ‘But there’s plenty of spare beds around the place, you don’t have to be uncomfortable.’

  ‘No worries,’ he drawled. ‘I like camping, especially out here.’

  ‘In that case, Harriet, show him where to pitch his tent. Under the old Coolibah is probably the best place.’

  Harriet glared, her mouth open ready to protest. Catriona glared back and Harriet stomped off towards the Coolibah, not waiting to see if Tom was following.

  Catriona smiled at Rosa. ‘Come on, let’s get the tea brewed.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Rosa as she lengthened her stride to keep up with her. ‘Why didn’t you tell us Belinda was coming, and why are the police interested in talking to you?’

  Catriona ran up the steps and slammed through the screen door. Archie, was, as usual, shouting to be fed. She scooped the mess from the can and put it in Archie’s bowl. ‘Perhaps I have been somewhat liberal with the truth,’ she began. ‘But it’s really nothing for you girls to worry about.’

  ‘If it’s not important,’ she retorted, hands on hips. ‘Then there’s no harm in telling us about it.’

  Catriona sat down at the table, her fingers plucking at the pages of an old newspaper that was lying there. ‘I know you mean well, darling,’ she said with a sigh. ‘But I don’t need protecting.’

  Rosa folded her arms and glowered. The exasperation was overwhelming and she was about to lose her temper for the second time that day. ‘So, tell me what this is all about,’ she snapped.

  Catriona straightened her back, the determination clear on her face. ‘I’ll tell everyone everything in my own time, Rosa. For now, you’ll just have to humour me.’

  *

  ‘Rosa doesn’t mean to be so prickly,’ said Harriet as she walked across the yard beside Tom. ‘But Catriona’s been like a mother to all of us, and we’re just trying to make some sense of what is going on.’

  Tom could see only her profile as she stared ahead. The soft curve of her cheek and the sweep of her delicate brow above the slightly turned-up nose were so appealing he almost forgot why he was here. With enormous effort, he willed himself to concentrate. ‘I can understand that,’ he replied. ‘I feel kind of protective about her too.’

  Harriet came to a standstill, hands in the pockets of her trousers, eyes quizzical as she looked up at him. ‘Why?’

  He hitched the bag to a more comfortable spot on his shoulder. ‘Because I love her music,’ he replied with simple sincerity. ‘Her voice was so pure, the passion so deep, it gives me goose bumps every time I hear her sing.’

  Harriet raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of humour in her eyes. ‘You surprise me,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have you down as an opera buff.’

  ‘Not all policemen are philistines,’ he muttered.

  She reddened and looked away. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.’

  He tried to make light of it, for he didn’t want her to find fault in him. ‘No worries. It’s a common assumption that all coppers are meat-heads.’ They began to walk again and he explained his reasons for admiring Catriona. ‘My dad was a huge fan. He had all her records, and I grew up in a house that fairly rang with opera. Rock and roll and heavy metal are for parties, opera touches all the senses and allows the imagination to fly.’ He reddened as he realised he was beginning to sound like a train-spotter, and changed the subject. ‘Do you live out here?’

  Harriet shook her head. ‘I live in Sydney. But this my second home,’ she replied. ‘Although there are some who would rather I didn’t.’

  Her reply intrigued him, and he thought he saw a fleeting shadow of something in those lovely eyes which belied the almost careless tone of her voice. It would be interesting to find out more, but not yet. She had to trust him first.

  *

  Catriona had chosen the site well, he realised as he finished pegging in the tent. It was within a short walk to the cookhouse and the wash-block, and across home yard from the main house. Set on a level strip above the river-bank, sheltered by trees and clear of any clumps of spinnifex that might be hiding a nest of snakes, it was the perfect place to while away the hours with a fishing rod. If he’d thought to bring one, he thought ruefully.

  ‘This isn’t a bloody holiday,’ he muttered. ‘Won’t be time for fishing.’

  Despite his reasons for being here, he realised how at peace he was. It had been many years since he’d camped. The last time had been up in the Blue Mountains with his sons, but they now deemed themselves too adult and sophisticated for such things, and preferred surfing. He grinned as he thought about the only time he’d tried riding the waves at Surfers. Nearly drowned his bloody self, and ended up so
stiff and sore he could hardly walk for a week. The boys had thought it hilarious, with jokes about age and decrepitude, some of which had hit the spot, he admitted. But it had been fun nevertheless.

  He rolled out the sleeping bag, sorted through the few clothes he’d brought with him, and collected all the paperwork he would need for later. Zipping up the one-man tent against any creepy-crawlies that might think it was a good hiding place, he sat down on the old wooden bench that ran around the bole of the spreading Coolibah and thought about Harriet and the startling effect she’d had on him.

  His job meant he had to be a realist, some would even say a cynic. And he supposed he was. A man couldn’t work for so many years amongst degradation and violence without being affected by it. The sights and sounds and the stories he had to listen to day after day had been like water dripping on stone, wearing away the softness, leaving only hard, brittle edges to the man he’d once been. His wife hadn’t liked this different Tom, and had left. His kids had become strangers, and now preferred the company of their stepfather. So how on earth had he allowed himself to fall so hard, so swiftly, and why was he feeling so happy about it, so confident that Harriet found him attractive even though she’d given no sign? After all, he reasoned, what on earth could such a beautiful and obviously intelligent woman see in him?

  Tom picked up a pebble and tossed it into the clear rivulet of water that chuckled over the gravel bed of the stream. Love at first sight was a myth, something written about in women’s magazines and not to be taken seriously. It was ridiculous to feel so strongly on such fleeting acquaintance, especially when the recipient probably saw him as a threat.

  He tried to dismiss the whole idea. He was too long in the tooth for all this nonsense, he told himself sternly. And yet he couldn’t deny the thunderbolt that had struck him when he’d first looked into her eyes. Couldn’t ignore the frisson of pleasure he’d experienced as he’d walked and talked with her or the compelling need he had to just look at her. If that wasn’t love then he didn’t know what else to call it.