*
Taking the steps two at a time, he flung his hat down and gratefully took a cup of tea from Wang Lee. ‘I’m sorry to hear about Jack,’ he said quietly to Aurelia. ‘Still no news?’
‘No.’ She put down her cup and looked at him squarely. She couldn’t talk about Jack. Couldn’t bear to think he might never come home. ‘What can we do for you Mickey?’
He might have known Aurelia would come straight to the point, but he wished she’d given him a few moments respite for what he had to tell them. He glanced across at Alicia, admiring the way her skin had tanned from exposure to the elements, and how neat she looked in the new moleskins and shirt he’d bought her in the Curry.
She was one hell of a woman – for she had learned to appear as at home here on this isolated station as in the smartest of hotels – and he could fully understand why she kept rejecting his proposals. He was a bushman, through and through, with few social graces despite his wealth, and nothing to offer her but his heart and a lifetime of hard work and devotion to Jarrah Downs.
He cleared his throat and fidgeted with his hat. Having rehearsed what he wanted to say on the flight here, he was suddenly reluctant to begin. His life’s work was finished for now, his future uncertain; it was a great deal to absorb, let alone discuss with calm authority and he was almost afraid to voice his plans, for it made everything seem too permanent, too real. He became aware of the expectant silence and Aurelia’s restlessness. ‘I’ve sold off most of the mob,’ he said quickly. ‘Jarrah’s closing down until the war’s over.’
Alicia’s surprise was clear. ‘But you can’t,’ she said sharply. ‘We have to keep the mobs going to provide meat for the country – and for the troops.’
Mickey reddened and looked down at his large brown hands that were scarred from years of working his property. ‘My Seamus is fighting somewhere in Africa,’ he said quietly. ‘The men I’ve worked with all my life are spread hell west and crooked over the world. I no longer have the heart to stay here looking after a mob of bloody cattle when I could be doing something useful.’
‘Keeping the cattle alive is useful,’ insisted Alicia. ‘Besides, the army have already turned you down – you said so.’
‘Things are different now,’ he drawled. ‘Australia needs every man she has – even old blokes like me.’ He grinned, saw his attempt at humour cut no ice with either woman and carried on. ‘I’ve been accepted into the RAAF as a senior pilot.’
Alicia paled, but remained silent as she calmly fixed a cigarette into an ivory holder.
‘So you’re leaving too,’ said Aurelia with a sigh. ‘I knew this would happen. One by one all our men are being swallowed up by this terrible, terrible war.’ She seemed to draw herself up, as if dredging the remains of an almost bankrupt spirit to the fore. ‘So what can we do for you, Mickey?’ she asked again.
He pulled out the sheaf of papers from his jacket and smoothed them out on the table. ‘These are the deeds to Jarrah,’ he said solemnly. ‘And this is my will. If anything should happen to me, then Jarrah is to pass to Seamus.’ He looked away, staring off beyond the distant horizon as he thought of his twenty three year old son – his only heir – with his mother’s Irish blue eyes and dark hair. The homestead had been so silent without him. Sighing, he turned back to the women. ‘If neither of us come back, then Jarrah is Alicia’s.’
Alicia gasped. ‘You can’t do that,’ she said sharply. ‘I have no right. Besides, what do I know about running a cattle station?’ She stubbed out the cigarette. ‘There must be someone else?’
He bowed his head. He wasn’t surprised by her refusal, but remained adamant. ‘If me and Seamus don’t make it, there’s no one else. My wife died fifteen years ago, and my other son’s buried on Jarrah.’ Alicia remained silent as his steady brown eyes held her. ‘You know how I feel about you,’ he said gruffly. ‘And I understand you probably think I’m trying to blackmail you into something you don’t want. But there are other things to take into consideration – do this for me? Please?’
Alicia drew back, her blue eyes clouded with doubt, and Mickey could see she was desperately trying to find the right words to say that wouldn’t cause him any more anguish or humiliation – and he couldn’t help but love her for that.
‘You’ve made it very clear how you feel, Mickey and I wish…’ She paused for a long moment then seemed to come to a decision. ‘Of course I’ll do as you ask, but it really won’t be necessary. You and your son will come back to Jarrah. I just know you will.’ Her smile was brittle.
Mickey knew the odds were against him returning, but there was no point in making this harder than it already was. He watched Alicia’s face as she lit another cigarette and wondered fleetingly if perhaps there was a chance for him after all. Yet common sense told him this was not the moment to declare himself again, not if he was leaving tonight. Another rejection would serve only to depress him further and he needed to keep his concentration on the task ahead.
Aurelia broke the awkward silence by clearing her throat. ‘You said there were other things to be taken into consideration.’
He turned gratefully to her with a smile he knew was fooling no one. ‘Remember after the last war how the government brought in a law about compulsory purchase? Parcels of our land were almost given away so they could be sold cheaply to the returning troops.’
Aurelia nodded. She’d lost thirteen thousand acres herself. ‘But I got it back when the young man went broke and returned to the city. A lot did, remember?’
‘Some didn’t,’ he reminded her. ‘My parents lost over twelve thousand acres – most of it good water – and it’s still being farmed today.’ He chewed his lip. ‘It’s my bet the government will do the same thing again when this is all over. But this time the stations are much bigger, far more widespread, and it’s the more successful of us that will lose the most.’
Aurelia caught on quickly. ‘So rather than put Jarrah and Warratah together by willing me the deeds, it’s more sensible to keep them small and under separate ownership.’ It was a statement, not a question.
He was relieved. He’d known she would understand his reasoning behind not leaving her Jarrah – even though he was fully aware she was far more capable than Alicia – and would probably make a better fist of things. Alicia might have made his pulse race, but when it came to Jarrah it was important his head ruled his heart and not the other way around.
‘Warratah is a much bigger station that Jarrah, and you’ll probably lose some of your land, but not as much as you would if the two properties are under one title,’ he said quietly. He noticed Alicia seemed happier now things had been explained – and it saddened him. He had hoped she would see his trust in her as the next step in their relationship.
‘So this is just a business plan?’ Alicia asked thoughtfully.
She gave him a sweet smile, and Mickey tamped down on the spark of hope that was all too easily lit within him. ‘I would have liked it to be more than that,’ he said evenly, pushing his feelings for her to the back of his mind. ‘But as I can’t have everything I want, this seemed the ideal way of conserving Jarrah for the future.’
He took a deep breath as he thought of the ninety square miles of pasture, the homestead and the tiny cemetery surrounded by native trees and shrubs. ‘There are five generations of my family buried on Jarrah. I would hate it if strangers took over.’ His gaze was steady on Alicia’s face, willing her to understand how much this meant to him. ‘If I don’t get back, keep it safe – if not for Seamus – then for Ellie – I’ve set up a trust.’
Alicia felt a twinge of embarrassment for the way she’d treated him, yet it was tempered with more than a little irritation. Up until now, Mickey Maughan had been a means of breaking the monotony of the outback, providing reasonable company and a plane out of here when she needed to get to Cloncurry. He’d plied her with expensive gifts when she let him know she was depressed, and flattered her when she’d visited the hairdressers in the Cu
rry to have the grey tended to. Dinners in a smart hotel, cocktails on the verandah – all little luxuries that had made life bearable out here. Now he was leaving – trusting her to take care of his precious Jarrah only to have to hand it over to Elspeth.
She lit another cigarette and blew smoke as she watched him and her sister go over the finer details of the documents. He was a good man, she admitted. But naïve if he thought he could blackmail her into marrying him. Mickey Maughan had merely been someone she could rely on for a good time and it had been fun to keep him on a string. But that was as far as it went. Alicia shivered as she looked out beyond home yard and the outbuildings to the endless miles of nothing. His leaving would sentence her to months, maybe years of boredom and isolation – the last thing she needed was a blasted cattle station to watch over. If only this damn war would come to an end, she thought crossly. Then there’d be no need for any of this. I’ve had it with Australia.
Aurelia was tense. ‘Wang Lee will see to those,’ she said rather more sharply than she intended when Alicia let a cup and saucer crash to the wooden floor. She knew full well why her sister was fussing over the dishes – her conscience was bothering her and she was trying to ignore it. ‘If you want something to do, then you’d better put these in the safe.’ She handed over the deeds and the will.
There was a moment of silence after Alicia slammed through the screen door, and they listened to the sound of her staccato footsteps as she crossed the hall. ‘When are you leaving?’ Aurelia asked finally.
‘Tonight.’ He sat there with his hat crushed in his hand, his expression miserable. ‘I reckon it’s best I don’t make a fool out of meself over Alicia again,’ he said with a sigh. ‘But I would’ve liked to say goodbye to her before I leave.’
Aurelia picked up her jacket and whip. ‘I’m off to keep an eye on Ellie. She’s been out too long on her own,’ she said gruffly. She stood up, the monocle firmly fixed, the jacket buttoned tight. That’s how it was for everyone these days, she thought wearily. Tense, buttoned up, all emotions under control – afraid to acknowledge the awful truths because if they allowed that to happen the dam would burst and they would all be lost.
‘I’d better be going then,’ Mickey said reluctantly, his gaze drifting to the screen door.
Aurelia shook his hand, felt the firmness and warmth in it that reminded her so forcefully of her darling Jack, and had to clear her throat before she could speak. ‘Take care of yourself,’ she rasped. ‘And I’ll see Jarrah comes to no harm.’
‘Use the land as you see fit,’ he said quietly. ‘I still got good water on the southern pastures, bores are holding up and the river’s still running so the grazing’s fair. I’ve kept the three bulls and some of the breeders, but they won’t need much looking after for a while.’
Aurelia nodded. She couldn’t say more. She looked into his face, committing it to memory as she had done with so many others before she turned away. ‘I suggest you walk Mickey to his plane, Alicia,’ she threw over her shoulder to the shadow behind the screen door. ‘Could be some time before we see him again.’
Alicia’s aristocratic upbringing wouldn’t allow her to appear rude or churlish, and although she knew she had to be careful not to give Mickey the wrong impression, she couldn’t just let him go without saying goodbye properly. She reached for her hat and together they stepped down from the verandah into the broiling heat. ‘We can take the utility,’ she offered stiffly.
‘I’d rather walk,’ he drawled. ‘It’ll give me a few minutes more of your company.’
Alicia dug her hands into her pockets, the brim of her hat deliberately low so he couldn’t see her face. She suddenly felt awkward with him, tongue tied and unusually lost for the right thing to say, so she walked beside him in silence. After a few steps she felt his hand on her arm and reluctantly came to a halt. Standing there in the middle of homestead yard she allowed him to tilt her chin with his fingers so he could look into her face. Trapped by his penetrating gaze, she had nowhere else to look and she was suddenly afraid he would read her thoughts.
‘Don’t spoil these last few moments by being afraid of saying the wrong thing, Alicia,’ he said quietly. ‘I want to remember your smile and the way you chatter in that funny pommy accent with all those long words that I have to pretend to understand. I couldn’t bear it if the last memory I have of you was of a sad face and an awkward silence.’
She made an effort to relax. ‘I don’t want to spoil anything,’ she replied. ‘But it’s not fair to either of us to expect too much of each other. Not when you’re leaving so unexpectedly.’
He smiled, his height casting a long shadow over her. ‘Will you miss me?’
‘Of course,’ she said truthfully. Then she saw the light of hope in his eyes and added, ‘But as a friend. A very dear friend.’
He tucked her arm in his and they slowly walked across the yard and out towards the landing strip. ‘I’ll be satisfied with that,’ he said softly. ‘For now.’
In normal times Alicia would have put him straight. But these weren’t normal times, and when he did return from the war she’d be long gone. Better to let him go thinking well of her and say nothing. ‘Don’t worry about Jarrah,’ she said as they came to a halt beside the plane. ‘I’ll look after it for you until you and Seamus get back.’
He silently crushed her to him, kissed the top of her head then was gone. The propellers spun and the engine roared as the little craft sped along the runway and lifted into the sky.
Alicia watched the fragile craft disappear into the roiling blackness of the advancing thunder clouds and wondered if it was a portent for the future. For she had a sudden suspicion she might have made a fatal error of judgement.
*
Leanne was feeling pleasantly sated as she pushed through the screen door and shrugged off her coat. It had been another long day and she was knackered. Kicking off her boots, she left them where they’d fallen and headed down the hall. Angel had decided he liked it in the cookhouse and had stayed on to smoke and yarn with the rest of the men. It was nice to have a few moments to herself, she thought as she passed the small table. She could shower and prepare herself for Angel’s return. Her glance fell on the telephone and she looked at her watch. ‘Better ring Warratah and let Mum know we got that truck off okay,’ she muttered. The phone was answered on the first ring. ‘How y’goin’ Claire?’
‘Good. Is Mum there?’
Her sister sounded agitated and Leanne stiffened. ‘I thought she’d decided not to come.’
‘Oh, my God,’ muttered Claire at the other end of the line. ‘That means she’s out there on her own.’
‘When did she leave?’ Leanne was doing her best to remain calm.
‘Real early. Leanne, we’ve got to find her and quick. The temperature’s dropped and she could die of hypothermia if she’s had an accident.’
‘Wait on a minute, Claire. She’s got the two-way radio. If something had happened to the ute, she’d have called in.’
‘But she hasn’t, has she?’ shouted Claire at the other end. ‘That’s why you’re ringing me and we’re wasting time. I’m coming over.’ The line was abruptly disconnected.
Leanne grabbed her coat and impatiently pulled on her boots. If only she’d rung earlier. If only she’d not waited until after supper. The thought of her mother out in the black, wet night spurred her on and she raced out of the house and back across the yard. Yanking the screen door open she slammed into the cookhouse and was met by a dozen pairs of startled eyes. The silence was complete. ‘Get the Landrovers out and pack the medical kit. Mum’s lost somewhere on the track from Warratah.’
They moved as one. Hats were rammed on heads, coats shrugged into as they followed her out of the door and into the rain. They broke into groups of six and fired up the two Landrovers. Cookie packed the medical kit and stretcher into the back of his truck and squeezed into the cab with an armful of blankets and pillows. Ellie raced to the utility, Angel not far behind her
, and after a couple of coughs it started. Hearing the noise, heads poked from the bunkhouse and soon there were over twenty people heading out of Jarrah in Landrovers, trucks, utilities and on horseback.
The night was black, the rain coming down like a curtain. Leanne and Angel drove in silence as the utility bounced and jolted and made the headlights dance over the muddy track, illuminating trees, startling grazing cattle and wallabies, sending a flock of emus into a shambling run. Leanne held grimly to the steering wheel as she smeared away the condensation and peered into the darkness. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to Mum.
As the convoy moved slowly towards Warratah and the hours ticked away she became frantic. There was no sign of the utility. Nothing to show Mum had even come down the track today. And yet she had to be here somewhere. Mum knew the rules and would never have just gone off without telling anyone. It was too dangerous.
‘Did you see that?’ she yelled above the drumming of the rain on the utility roof.
‘It’s a headlight,’ shouted Angel. ‘Someone’s coming the other way.’
‘Oh, god,’ she sobbed. ‘That’s Claire. It means she hasn’t found her.’
‘No. Wait. It isn’t moving. Look, the interior light’s on. Claire must have found something.’
Leanne put her foot hard down on the accelerator and the utility skidded in the mud, tilted and swayed alarmingly before it righted itself and shot forward. She was aware of Angel yelling at her to slow down. Aware she was driving recklessly. But she had to see what was up ahead. The utility came to a grinding halt as she slammed on the brake and tore out into the rain.
Claire was illuminated by the headlights. She was coatless and hatless and kneeling next to something on the ground. Something that was very still.
Leanne waded through the mud and stumbled over the shale. ‘Mum? Mum?’ She fell to her knees, mindless of the sharp stones, heedless of the drenching rain.
Windflowers Page 23
