Windflowers

by Tamara McKinley

  3

  Claire’s pulse raced as she turned off the highway and began the long approach to Gregory Downs that would take her on to Warratah. The road was still good, but several miles on it would become stony, with potholes and water run-offs to slow her down. The van was beginning to complain and the temperature gauge was permanently on hot. Her own fear of what was to come had given her a headache. They both needed a breather.

  The broad sweep of gravel in front of the Gregory Downs Hotel was enticing and, as it was the last place to get food and petrol before she began the last leg of her journey, Claire drove in and parked next to a battered utility. She switched off the engine and leaned back. Her reluctance had grown over the last few hundred miles, now her mouth was dry and the headache pounding. She dug in her bag for an aspirin and swallowed it with a mouthful of lukewarm lemonade.

  With a grimace she eyed her sweat-stained shirt and grubby shorts. They’d been clean on this morning, but with the heat and dust coming through the open window they hadn’t stood a chance. Rummaging through the bags behind her seat she pulled out a long indian cotton skirt that had been tie-dyed in purple and lavender and looked better when it was creased. It had an elasticated waist so it was easy to pull on and dispose of the shorts without showing her knickers. The shirt would have to do she thought as she looked over at the long, low building and caught a glimpse of someone peering through a window. She wasn’t about to flash her assets to all and sundry even if they were meagre.

  The Gregory Downs Hotel was squat and straddled the red earth beneath a canopy of shady trees. The roof was rust red, the timbers dark from age and the elements. A verandah ran the width of the front, sheltered by the usual sloping addition to the roof. The building probably hadn’t changed much since the eighteen hundreds when it had been a staging post for Cobb & Co. They’d be used to people looking bedraggled, she decided. This wasn’t a smart city hotel where you had to dress up to the nines to be allowed in.

  Grabbing her bag she climbed out of the van and slammed the door. The heat was intense even beneath the dappled shade of the flowering red gums and the gallahs’ chatter was muted as if they too were wilting. The sun glared on the utility’s wing mirror and she noticed the thick red clay that clung to the tyres and the bags of tools in the flat-bed. Obviously a local, she thought fleetingly.

  She slung her bag over her shoulder and swiftly plaited her hair so it fell in a single swathe over her shoulder and to her waist. It was cooler once the weight was off her neck, and having tied it with a scrap of ribbon, she felt marginally presentable. Crossing the gravel car-park she stepped onto the shaded verandah and pushed through the screen doors.

  The smell of fresh coffee assailed her as she entered the general store that took up most of the reception area. She’d by-passed breakfast this morning at the hotel in Cloncurry and suddenly realised she was very hungry.

  The woman behind the counter was fat and cheerful and well into middle age. Her generous curves were imprisoned in a sprigged cotton dress, the buttons down the front almost losing the battle to keep her decent. ‘G’day luv,’ she said, the brown eyes sweeping over her with friendly curiosity. ‘Come far?’

  ‘Sydney,’ Claire replied without thinking.

  ‘Strewth, that’s a long ways,’ she replied as her gaze took in the long skirt, the plait and the gold hoops in Claire’s ears. ‘One of them hippies, are yer? Bit off the track for Nimbin, luv.’ The gaze was friendly, but openly curious, the chubby arms folded beneath the pendulous bosom as she settled in for a long gossip.

  Claire knew she’d made a mistake blurting it out like that, but she’d been away too long and had forgotten the way of things out here. Now she’d be stuck in an endless round of questions, for visitors had to be few and there was nothing an outlander liked better than a good gossip. ‘That coffee smells good.’ she said hurriedly. ‘Any chance of some breakfast?’

  The expression changed suddenly to one of delighted surprise. ‘I know who you are,’ the woman said as she snapped her fingers. ‘You’re Ellie’s girl – the one that went to university.’ She put more strain on the buttons as she squeezed through the gap in the counter. ‘Name’s Lila, by the way. Pleased to meet yer.’

  Claire gave up all ideas of getting breakfast for at least half an hour. It was bound to happen so close to home, but right now all she really wanted to do was get some food inside her and try to prepare herself for the home-coming. Yet she had to learn to adjust to the way of things again. Had to remember the pace was slower than in Sydney and people expected to take their time over inconsequential chatter. ‘Claire,’ she replied and smiled. ‘University’s finished.’

  ‘Your mum and dad must be very proud of you,’ Lila beamed. ‘Just fancy. Another vet in the family.’ She gave a hearty laugh. ‘Reckon that’ll save a bob or two – not that it’ll make much difference with all the pies your dad and mum have got their fingers into.’

  ‘Breakfast?’ asked Claire hopefully. She hated discussing the family wealth and tried to avoid it whenever possible. Tall poppies were frowned upon both here and in the city – it was a way of Australian life. You could be as successful as you liked, but you never talked about it.

  ‘Too right. And I’ve got a surprise for you. Come on through.’

  The plump fingers clutched her arm and Claire was almost dragged into the dining room. It was dimly cool and green from the diffused light coming through the stand of pines at the back of the hotel. There were several tables, each covered in a checked cloth that matched the curtains. Vases of plastic flowers stood beside the condiments and bottles of red sauce in the middle of each table and the walls were lined with bright posters of tropical beaches. Only one table had a diner.

  ‘Matt,’ the woman called. ‘There’s someone here you should meet.’

  Claire hitched up her shoulder bag – she had hoped to eat in peace so she could prepare herself for her arrival at Warratah, but Lila was obviously having none of it.

  ‘Matt Derwent. Claire Pearson.’ Lila stood back once the introductions were over, her hands clasped at her waist, eyes bright with some hidden agenda.

  Matt Derwent was tall. All whipcord and wire, as her father might have said. He seemed to have taken on the colours of the outback and become at one with it. From the straw coloured hair and ruddy face to the ochre stained boots and moleskins, he was obviously a man at home in the outdoors. Her hand was enveloped in his large paw and she found she had to look up into his hazel eyes. It was an unusual occurrence and Claire found she rather liked the feeling of being small for once.

  ‘G’day,’ he drawled. ‘Heard you were coming back.’ He grinned, showing even white teeth and a cobweb of lines at the corners of his eyes.

  ‘Matt’s a vet too,’ said Lila conspiratorially.

  Claire struggled to contain the giggles as she and Matt exchanged looks. ‘You must be new around here,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I don’t remember meeting you out on Warratah.’

  ‘Started last year,’ he replied before turning back to their audience of one. ‘Reckon we could both do with some coffee, Lila.’

  ‘I’m on to it,’ she said cheerfully as she bustled to clear Matt’s dirty plates away and lay another place. ‘Now you two young things must have plenty to talk about, so I’ll leave you to it. Breakfast won’t be long, Claire.’ She bustled away and slammed through the swing doors to the kitchen.

  Matt lifted a brown eyebrow. ‘Young things?’ he murmured with a glint of humour.

  Claire giggled and sat down. ‘Reckon Lila’s into matchmaking,’ she whispered as she pulled her cigarettes from her bag and offered him one. ‘I shouldn’t let it bother you.’

  He blew smoke and laughed. ‘Doesn’t worry me,’ he said. ‘Quite made my day.’

  She eyed him through the smoke and grinned back. ‘I suppose this is where I say you don’t look a day over twenty-five?’

  He sipped his coffee. ‘You could, but you’d be lying,’ he drawled. ‘I’m th
irty eight next birthday and beginning to feel it every time I get called out in the night.’ With a rueful grin he stretched a long leg into the aisle. ‘Knees are shot from playing Aussie rules at university, and when it’s cold they creak like rusty hinges.’

  Lila appeared through the swing doors and happily poured coffee as they chatted about their work. ‘I knew you’d have a lot in common,’ she said cheerfully. ‘So nice to see you getting along.’

  Claire bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from laughing, and when she caught the glint of mischief in Matt’s eyes she had to look away. Matt Derwent was having a strange effect on her and she found herself being drawn to him despite having only just met him.

  Breakfast duly arrived and Claire tucked into the egg and bacon with gusto as Matt drank his coffee and told her about his widely spread practice. The bacon was crisp and the eggs fried just the way she like them, all soft in the middle so she could dip her toast. Not the healthiest of breakfasts she admitted as she finally put her knife and fork together, but it certainly filled a gap and chased away the headache.

  She caught him watching her and blushed. ‘I don’t usually eat so quickly,’ she said. ‘But I was hungry.’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know where you put it all,’ he drawled as his hazel eyes drifted over her. ‘There isn’t much of you.’

  ‘Hollow legs,’ she said firmly. He smiled a slow smile and she felt her insides flip. She really shouldn’t have had that second fried egg. ‘So,’ she said before the silence became prolonged. ‘What’s your speciality?’

  He looked at her, the humour tugging the corners of his mouth. ‘You mean apart from being called young and having breakfast with a stunning blonde?’ he teased.

  Claire reddened and was furious with herself. Matt was flirting and she was suddenly awkward and almost shy. This was no college boy or callow youth – this was a man who was obviously more sophisticated than she was and who’d probably got a wife tucked away somewhere. ‘I meant professionally,’ she said rather more sharply than she’d intended.

  ‘Oh, that,’ he said airily as he drained the last of his coffee. ‘Farm animals mostly, but my main interest is horses. In fact I’m due up at Jarrah soon. Bonny’s about to drop her foal.’

  Claire saw this as a chance to turn the conversation. ‘How’s Lee getting on?’ she asked reverting to the family’s habit of shortening her sister’s name. There had been few letters between them during the past five years and she was curious. Perhaps now they were mature they’d get on better.

  ‘Good. She’s getting the hang of things fast. Leanne is born to it, she won’t have many problems unless she tries to do too much at once.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Your dad did the right thing letting her learn like that. It’s given her the freedom to grow up and prove she’s capable of running a big station like Jarrah.’

  Claire picked up her cigarettes and hitched her bag over her shoulder. The talk of Leanne had helped make up her mind on how to approach the dreaded home-coming. Now, having been thoroughly unsettled by Matt, she was eager to be on her way. ‘I must be going,’ she said lightly. ‘They’re expecting me home today and I don’t want to get caught on the road after dark. A mob of roos nearly wrote the van off before and the last thing I need at the moment is more garage bills.’ She was babbling and knew it. So did Matt if the look in his eyes was anything to go by.

  They stood and shook hands. ‘Catch you later then,’ he said softly.

  Claire felt the warm strength in his fingers as he held her hand for a fraction longer than necessary and knew they would meet again. Matt was the sort of man who would seek her out, and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. For he was a danger – a complication she just didn’t need right now.

  *

  It was going to be a long night. Bonny had waxed up two weeks ago, now the milk was dripping from her udders. Her eleven month gestation was up. She had scraped her bed and started sweating this afternoon and after a quick examination Leanne realised the muscles either side of her tail had already relaxed in preparation for the birth. There was no way of knowing how long the mare would be in labour, but Leanne suspected it would happen some time during the night and had called the vet. She was quite capable of delivering the foal, but had learned from bitter experience it was better to have professional help close by in case of emergencies – for the distance the vet had to travel was too far for him to get here quickly.

  She left the restless mare with one of the native jackaroos who was a natural wizard with horses, and after chatting to a couple of the men who were sitting in the warm evening smoking their cigarettes and yarning over beers she went into the homestead and turned on the lights. She had a couple of hours before she had to check on Bonny again and it was the perfect time to sort out her clothes and decide what to wear for Angel’s return next week.

  Her wardrobe was sparse, filled with working clothes and only one or two dresses. Boots lined the floor and the single pair of strappy, high-heeled sandals looked impossibly delicate beside them. Having tried everything on, she decided she looked best in moleskins with the emerald green shirt that enhanced the colour of her eyes. A dress was too much, the old jeans too casual and unflattering.

  She washed her hair and brushed it until it shone blue-black in the electric light, and then added a touch of make-up to her eyes and mouth. Tiny gold studs glinted in her ears and a thin gold chain glittered at her tanned throat. There was nothing she could do about her hands she thought ruefully as she looked at the short square nails that were, as usual, ingrained with grime from the stables. The skin was darkly tanned and the palms were rough from riding without gloves and grubbing about in the vegetable plot. She regarded the result in the mirror with a critical eye. Apart from her hands, she scrubbed up pretty well. ‘Angel Carrera you’d better watch out,’ she murmured. ‘You won’t stand a chance of sleeping for at least a week.’

  ‘Sounds ominous.’

  Leanne spun round. She’d been so wrapped up in her dreams she hadn’t heard anyone come in. ‘Claire,’ she gasped. ‘What are you doing here?’

  They stood in awkward silence for a long moment before they tentatively embraced.

  Claire’s smile was uncertain as they stepped away from each other. ‘I thought I was expected?’

  ‘You are. You were,’ Leanne stuttered as she tried to put her thoughts in order. Damn Claire for turning up like this. ‘But we thought you’d be going to Warratah.’

  ‘Couldn’t face it,’ said Claire as she sank on to the bed and lay back on the pillows with one slender arm shielding her eyes from the glare of the light bulb. ‘It’s been one hell of a drive and I’m too knackered to get into the family thing tonight.’ She eyed her sister. ‘You don’t mind do you, Lee? I’m not interrupting anything am I?’

  ‘Of course not,’ replied Leanne as she hurriedly changed back into her old jeans and a sweatshirt. ‘Angel’s away on government business, but I might be out most of the night sitting with Bonny. Reckon she’s due to drop her foal any minute.’

  ‘I didn’t realise earrings and make-up were necessary for foaling,’ her sister teased.

  Leanne shrugged. She was embarrassed to be caught on the hop and put out by the elegant beauty who lay on her bed as if she owned it. ‘I just wanted to see how I’d look in something other than this lot,’ she said vaguely as she ran her capable hands down the denim.

  Claire laughed, climbed off the bed and began to sift through the clutter on Leanne’s dressing table. She picked up a lipstick, tried it, grimaced and wiped it off. ‘You don’t fool me, little sister,’ she said fondly as she tested a perfume on her wrist. ‘Angel’s obviously due home, either that or you’ve got a secret lover.’

  Leanne blushed furiously. ‘We’ve only been married a few months,’ she snapped. ‘We might be country hicks, but we do have morals out here.’ She snatched the expensive perfume away and hid it in a drawer. She hated it when Claire went through her things.

&nbs
p; Claire raised an eyebrow. ‘Touchy,’ she said. ‘I see things haven’t changed much.’

  It was not an auspicious beginning. Leanne decided to change tack. ‘Have you eaten? I’ve got some mutton stew. It’s not brilliant, but it doesn’t taste too bad.’

  Claire eyed her younger sister. ‘Did you make it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied defensively. ‘My cooking’s a lot better since you were last home.’ She led the way into the kitchen, ladled out some of the stew and sliced into the freshly made bread. ‘I even do bread now,’ she added with asperity.

  Claire swung her long plait back over her shoulder and sat at the kitchen table. ‘Good on you,’ she replied as she tasted the stew and added salt and pepper. ‘This isn’t bad,’ she murmured in surprise.

  Leanne felt the heat rise in her face as she dipped her head and concentrated on her meal. ‘Don’t patronise me, Claire,’ she warned evenly.

  Claire put down her knife and fork. ‘Fair go, Lee. What’s biting you? You haven’t had a decent word to say to me since I arrived.’

  Leanne folded her arms, the meal forgotten. ‘Why have you come back?’ she demanded. ‘There’s nothing here for you.’

  There was a protracted silence as the two sisters eyed one another. ‘Aurelia gave me no choice,’ Claire said finally. ‘Don’t worry, Lee. I’m not about to encroach on your life any more than I have to.’

  Leanne felt a twinge of unease. Perhaps she had been a little harsh, but Leanne disliked being on the defensive and saw no reason why she should explain herself or her almost manic fear that Claire’s return would in some way endanger everything she held dear. ‘Sorry.’ Her tone was grudging. ‘It’s been a long day, and with Bonny about to drop her foal it’s going to be a long night. You caught me on the hop.’

  Claire smiled and seemed to accept her apology. ‘Is Matt Derwent coming over tonight to see to Bonny?’ she asked cheerfully.