Dreamscapes

by Tamara McKinley

  Archie followed her into the lounge and wound himself between her legs as she approached the trunk. She looked down at it for a moment, deep in thought, then sighed. She had wanted to go through the things she’d stored away in there, wanted to share some of the secrets she’d hidden for so long, but the time wasn’t right, not now Tom was here. Deciding to leave things as they were for the moment, she quietly left the house and went for her morning ride.

  *

  Tom realised he would be spending enough time today in the company of women and chose to eat breakfast in the cookhouse. Like all male bastions, it was noisy and cheerful, the laughter uninhibited as the stories flew and the day’s work was discussed and apportioned out. He felt at ease, despite the hostile glances, and he tucked into steak and eggs and fried potato and washed it all down with hot, fragrant coffee. The food was better than in the police canteen, he decided, and the company less uptight. There was no thrusting ambition here, no cow-towing to superiors or back-stabbing as far as he could see. The men of Belvedere appeared content with their lot, the mate-ship a strong bond.

  ‘G’day,’ said Connor as he dumped his loaded plate on the table and sat down. ‘How was it in the tent?’

  ‘Yeah, good,’ Tom replied, wincing as he scalded his tongue on the coffee. He was in need of the caffeine fix before he faced the day. He glanced at Connor who was in deep conversation with one of the drovers. It appeared the man had decided to bend a little, and for that he was grateful. All he had to do now was get Catriona to tell him what she knew and he could get out of here.

  He closed his mind to the cheerful chatter going on around him and thought of Harriet. He’d dreamed of her last night, a stupid, puerile thing to do seeing as how she had a boyfriend already and was way out of his league, but that didn’t alter the fact that just the thought of her did strange things to his insides or that he was looking forward to seeing her again this morning. His pleasant musing was interrupted by a gruff voice at his shoulder.

  ‘So what you here for then, mate?’ The man who sat next to Tom had a face leathered by the elements which creased into a network of deep fissures as he spoke.

  ‘Just visiting,’ Tom replied, shooting a warning glance at Connor.

  ‘I ’eard it was more serious than that,’ drawled the man sitting opposite. ‘Something about a murder.’

  Dead silence fell as all eyes swivelled to Tom and Connor.

  The shock of those almost casual words sent Tom’s pulse into overdrive. Surely the news hadn’t leaked this far so soon? He forced himself to remain calm under the fierce scrutiny of those around him. ‘Murder, eh?’ he muttered, with as much nonchalance as he could dredge up in the circumstances. ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘Heard about it on the radio this morning,’ drawled the man, his very blue gaze pinned firmly on Tom’s face.

  Shit and corruption. Of all the flaming luck. He’d known it was a mistake to keep this quiet, should have resisted when Catriona made him promise to keep it to himself. This might be the Outback, and thousands of miles from anywhere sensible, but radios, phones and all the other paraphernalia of the modern world meant the Outlanders were no longer cut off from civilisation. He gritted his teeth, shoved the chair from the table and stood. He was aware of the silence, of the upturned faces and the accusing eyes of the men of Belvedere. Catriona was more than just their employer, he realised suddenly. They loved and admired her, and he got the feeling they regarded him as her nemesis.

  ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip, mate,’ he said. His tone was firm, despite the rage against Wolff churning in his gut. ‘The press are always getting it wrong.’

  Cookie was standing with his arms folded over the barrel of his chest. His expression was grim. ‘Can’t of got it that wrong,’ he growled. ‘There’s libel laws, and they would have made damn sure of their facts before releasing the story.’

  Tom had no answer to that and was, in fact, surprised at Cookie’s knowledge. It just proved you couldn’t take anything for granted.

  ‘So you’re the mongrel sent out ’ere to arrest ’er, eh?’ The grisly individual scraped back his chair, his stance aggressive. ‘Reckon we might have somethin’ to say about that – mate.’

  Tom acknowledged the threat and watched as the rest of the men rose from their chairs and stood in silent condemnation. The mood was ugly, and it would take very little to spark off trouble. Why couldn’t the flaming press keep quiet? Why the hell did they have to shoot their mouths off before he’d had time to sort things out? ‘No one’s going to be arrested,’ he said firmly. ‘Unless one of you decides to try and take me on.’

  Connor rose slowly from the table and stood squarely beside him. ‘I reckon you’ll have to fight me first,’ Connor said quietly.

  There was a shuffle of heavy boots on the floor and a hum of muttering as Connor kept his gaze firmly fixed on their faces and spoke quietly to Tom. ‘We need to talk,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Tom replied. ‘But not here.’ Tom didn’t know whether to be relieved that Connor appeared to be supporting him, or whether to brace himself for a punch in the mouth.

  ‘So there ain’t no truth in it then?’ persisted the drover. ‘This mongrel ain’t ’ere to arrest the missus?’

  ‘Why’s he here then?’ came another voice. ‘He’s a cop ain’t ’e?’

  ‘Yeah. She ain’t done nothing wrong, and I’ll punch any bloke here who says she did.’

  ‘Shut up, Sweeney, and get on with your tucker,’ growled Connor at the young jackaroo who was obviously itching for a punch-up. He glared at the rest of the men. ‘There’s a pile of work waiting, and the day’s half over,’ he barked. ‘Ma won’t thank you for wasting daylight, so get your backsides in gear.’

  Connor strode out of the cookhouse, Tom close behind him. He rounded on Tom the minute they were out of earshot of the men who’d come spilling out of the cookhouse to rubber-neck. ‘You’d better have a bloody good explanation for that conversation back there,’ he said with deadly calm. ‘Or I’ll punch your flaming lights out.’

  *

  Harriet shuffled into the kitchen and noticed the telephone had been disconnected. Still half asleep, she didn’t question why, and jammed the jack back into place before making coffee. The telephone rang almost immediately, and she answered it. It was her mother, and Jeanette was in no mood for pleasantries. ‘Have you seen the papers this morning?’

  ‘Hardly,’ she replied as she opened a window and tried to garner some of the fresh breeze that had sprung up. Rosa’s cigarette smoke was making her eyes water.

  ‘Harriet? Are you there? I can’t hear you?’ demanded her mother.

  ‘Well, it’s a long way from Sydney,’ replied Harriet as she looked out of the window at the glorious view. The sun had just crested the distant mountains and the paddocks were being gilded with red and orange.

  ‘Don’t be flippant,’ snapped Jeanette.

  Jeanette’s voice was like an angry wasp in her ear as Harriet watched Tom and Connor march out of the cookhouse and become engaged in a long and obviously heated conversation. The other men were hanging around, trying to listen in, and she was curious to know what was going on over there. Her mother’s voice droned on, and she looked at her watch, frowning when she realised how early it still was. ‘You’re usually comatose at this time of the morning,’ she said, interrupting the flow of words. ‘What’s got you all steamed up?’

  ‘Are you with Rosa?’

  Harriet glanced across at her friend and frowned again. ‘I told you I was,’ she quietly. ‘What about it?’

  ‘There’s trouble brewing out at Belvedere. It’s in all the papers.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Harriet breathed. ‘That was quick.’

  ‘What?’ her mother shouted in her ear. ‘What did you say?’

  Harriet pulled her thoughts firmly into line. ‘Nothing, Mother,’ she said hastily. ‘What exactly do you mean by trouble?’ She shot a glance at Rosa and lifted her shoulders
in reply to her silent question.

  Jeanette’s high-pitched voice sang down the telephone airways as she did a rapid precis of the news reports. Harriet was chilled by her mother’s words and horrified at the predicament Catriona had found herself in. It explained a great many things, but the leak to the press had obviously come from a close source, certainly too close for comfort.

  She peered out of the window. The two men were shaking hands, and appeared to have come to an understanding. But had their argument been about this leak? If so, perhaps Rosa’s initial distrust of Belinda and Tom had been justified. Yet Connor seemed happy to shake his hand. It was a puzzle.

  Her thoughts were in turmoil as she turned from the window. ‘Does this report give any clue as to where the story came from?’ she asked as her mother finally came to the end of the article.

  ‘None.’ Jeanette’s tone was flat.

  Harriet chewed her bottom lip. She’d known the question was a shot in the dark. Reporters always kept the identity of their source well hidden, and only an Act of Parliament or a court order could change that. But her mother’s reaction to that news item had her even more puzzled. ‘It’s unlike you to be concerned for Rosa’s family. Why the sudden change of heart?’

  ‘I couldn’t care less about Rosa,’ retorted Jeanette. ‘It’s you I’m concerned about. If you’re together, and you get involved in this murder enquiry, it could be the end of your career and any chance you might have had with Jeremy.’

  Knowing how Jeanette would react, Harriet kept her opinions of her career and Jeremy to herself. Frankly, there were more important things to worry about. ‘It’s nice to know you’re so concemed, mother,’ she said dryly. ‘But you’ve no need to worry. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Jeanette retorted. ‘And I hope that means you’ll be coming home. Mud sticks, and you should distance yourself from that awful family as quickly as possible.’

  Harriet could feel the temper rising as it always did when her mother took this particular stance. ‘Catriona’s my friend,’ she said coldly. ‘I’ll stick by her for as long as she needs me, and if that involves offering my professional services, then so be it.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare?’ Jeanette’s horror fairly hummed over the airways.

  ‘Goodbye, mother,’ said Harriet. She cut the connection, and turned back into the kitchen, where she was greeted by raised voices. Rosa had obviously overheard enough to confront Belinda.

  ‘Well, it had to come from somewhere,’ snapped Rosa.

  ‘If you’d only shut up long enough to give someone else a chance to speak, you might actually realise it would not be in our interest to do something like this,’ stormed Belinda.

  Harriet eyed the two protagonists and, despite the seriousness of the situation, couldn’t help but smile. Rosa was swamped in Connor’s pyjamas, her hair standing on end, her expression that of a petulant child. Belinda towered over her in shorts and a T-shirt, hair wild, eyes stormy. ‘If only you two could see yourselves,’ she said. ‘You’re like a couple of bloody kids.’

  ‘It’s not funny,’ snapped Rosa. ‘You should hear the latest piece of news.’

  ‘I have,’ she said mildly. ‘Care of my devoted mother, who thinks I should distance myself from all of you at the earliest opportunity.’

  ‘I wish I could,’ said Connor as he and Tom came crashing into the kitchen. ‘You lot have been nothing but trouble since you arrived.’ He held up his hand as Rosa opened her mouth to protest. ‘Shut up,’ he said firmly. ‘This mess can be explained.’ He glanced at Tom. ‘Go on mate, and hurry up. I don’t like the gleam of battle in my sister’s eyes.’

  Harriet listened as Tom explained his reason for being here, and Catriona’s demand that the press-leak should remain secret. The relief she felt was immense, for she didn’t want to believe he could have been so underhanded. He had a pleasant voice, she realised, and she liked the way he moved his hands to emphasise a point. Those hands looked broad and capable, the nails clean and unbitten.

  She looked down at her own hands as wayward thoughts distracted her. There was no denying it, she admitted silently. Tom was an attractive man. She liked the way he took charge so easily, becoming the focus of everyone in the room, calming heated tempers and soothing damaged egos, and she rather suspected that under that calm exterior lay a harnessed strength that could be unleashed at a moment’s notice to stunning effect.

  More wayward thoughts made the heat rise up her neck and she dipped her chin, allowing her hair to fall around her face. This is ridiculous, she thought crossly. He’s just a man, an ordinary man who seems genuinely upset about the turn of events, and deeply concerned over the effect it might have on Catriona. Why on earth should that make her go all unnecessary? Pull yourself together, she berated herself silently, act your age, and remember Catriona needs you. Tom was obviously sick and tired of the whole damn affair – and who could blame him – but it seemed that he too would need their support. For she couldn’t dismiss the fact that he’d gone along with Catriona in keeping the leak a secret, and she suspected that decision had cost him dearly. For she had the distinct impression Tom Bradley was an honourable man, a man who didn’t relish keeping secrets, a man for whom the truth was top priority, no matter how harsh.

  *

  Catriona had enjoyed her ride, the weariness of the long night had been swept away and she was ready to face the day. She heard the shouting as she approached the homestead, and stood on the verandah listening in as Tom held sway. Her secret was out.

  ‘Thank you for being so supportive,’ she said as she entered the kitchen, dropped the riding crop on a chair, poured a cup of tea and turned to face them.

  ‘Morning, Mum,’ said Rosa. ‘Thanks for keeping us in the dark.’

  ‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, dear,’ Catriona said sweetly. ‘And for goodness sake stop scowling. It makes you very ugly.’

  Rosa grinned, unable to keep the dark mood for long. She kissed Catriona’s cheek. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you trust us?’

  ‘I simply wasn’t ready to share this with anyone,’ she said. She smiled at the three girls. Rosa was a breath of youth, a cool spring breeze that wafted in and out of her life and gave her joy. Harriet too was young and attractive, her long legs enhanced by beautifully cut trousers. The thick blonde hair was lustrous, making her want to reach out and touch it. She was a beautiful young woman; no wonder Tom Bradley couldn’t take his eyes off her. As for Belinda, she could still see that little hoyden in her eyes, the lust for life, the down-to-earth honesty that shone through – hopefully Connor would see it for himself and make his move before she returned to the city and out of his life forever.

  Connor strolled across the room and kissed her cheek. ‘Next time,’ he warned softly, ‘don’t keep things to yourself.’ He grinned. ‘You might have known you couldn’t keep a secret for long out here.’

  She nodded before turning to Belinda and Tom. ‘I suppose I’d better get on with it, then,’ she said firmly. ‘No doubt the reporters will be making up their own stories by now, so you’d better hear the truth from the horse’s mouth, rather than tittle-tattle.’

  Leading them into the lounge, she settled back into the couch, Archie on her knee. She waited until they were all seated. Her moment had come.

  ‘The others have heard my life’s story before, Tom,’ she began. ‘But the tale I’m going to tell you now is one which I have never spoken of before. It was a reasonably short episode in my life, but it has lived with me ever since.’

  *

  Tom sat and watched the shadows playing across her face and knew how painful it had to be for her, to tell such a tale. He wished, with all his heart, he could have left things alone. Yet, as he listened, he realised she needed to purge herself of the evil that had been with her for most of her life, for in her day there had been no back-up support systems in place to deal with those kind of situations.

&n
bsp; He glanced across at Belinda and saw the same thoughts reflected in her eyes, but there would be no turning back, and any regrets would have to be dismissed. Catriona was well aware of what she was doing, and actually seemed to be garnering strength from the confession. Her strength of character and her determination was admirable, and if she hadn’t been made of such stern stuff, he realised, the events of that time would have destroyed her. Yet, here she was, as strong as ever. She had won against all odds and made a success of her life. She was a survivor.

  He swiftly checked the tiny tape-recorder and renewed the tape and the batteries. Catriona had been talking for over an hour, and should have been exhausted, yet she sat there, head held high, almost imperious in her disdain for the story she was telling.

  Tom set the recorder and placed it back on the arm of the chair. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he touched the small plastic bag. It was a vital piece of evidence, but so far it didn’t seem to fit the story Catriona was telling.

  *

  Her breath escaped in a long sigh as the story came to an end and her rage was finally spent. She dipped her chin. ‘It was over,’ she said softly. ‘Kane was dead and buried.’

  The silence was profound and she looked at her audience. What she saw broke her heart. Rosa’s face was white, her eyes stricken with horror as she covered her mouth with her fingers, the tears coursing through them. Belinda and Harriet were fighting their own tears, their faces ashen. Tom’s eyes were dull, his mouth a grim line as he folded his arms and began to rock back and forth. Connor’s chin was sunk to his chest, his elbows resting on his knees as his broad hands clasped the back of his head. His silent tears fell softly to the floor. ‘Don’t grieve for me,’ she begged. ‘He’s dead. He can’t hurt me any more.’

  Rosa raced into her arms and held her just as tightly as Velda had done that awful night. Her words were almost incoherent as she sobbed on her shoulder. Connor stood and looked at them for a long while, his face grey with pain and streaked with tears. Then he turned and determinedly left the room.