Turn Left at Bindi Creek

by Lynne Wilding

  And with regard to Brooke, she sensed a mystery in the d’Winters family. Yes, she would watch and wait to see if the mystery unravelled itself.

  The spring quarter sessions at Cowra District Court concluded. Outside the courthouse people stood in small groups, discussing the magistrate’s ruling on the Craig Marcioni case: a twelve-months good behaviour bond for a first offence and five hundred hours of community service, provisional on him undertaking detoxification and rehabilitation at a Sydney hospital. The ruling had been controversial from a local point of view, but not without precedent.

  Jean King simmered with disappointment; she had expected the full weight of the law to come down on the ‘little shit’. The Marcioni family had been relieved—their only son had escaped a gaol sentence. Jason d’Winters was relieved too; the menace of Craig and several small local drug suppliers had been removed from the district for at least twelve months, perhaps longer. Brooke, though she took pains to hide it, was pleased with the outcome. Something inside her—maybe she was just a softie—knew that Craig was a victim who deserved a second chance. At detox he would get that second chance, and then what he made of himself afterwards was up to him.

  Wes Sinclair was only moderately satisfied with the magistrate’s sentence. He considered it a soft option rather than a just one and, on hearing what had happened to Brooke and Jean in Jason’s surgery, he had longed for the chance to wrap his hands around Marcioni’s neck and throttle him. The depth of his reaction to Brooke’s life being in danger worried him so much that straight after the verdict he left for Sindalee, to work himself into a frenzy in an attempt to forget how much he cared for her.

  Sharon Dimarco, Vince Gersbach and Hugh Thurtell, standing in the shade of the post office building, had also attended the court case. Before and during the case, Hugh, a member of the Cowra Chamber of Commerce, had vocalised his thoughts,

  saying it was time for the town to do something about the growing drug menace in the shire.

  ‘When things settle down I’m going to talk to Brooke—see if she’ll head a committee to liaise with schools and the police. We must get this problem under control,’ Hugh said to Sharon and Vince.

  Sharon pouted at him. ‘Why Brooke? Why not someone like Vince?’ She threaded her arm possessively through Vince’s. ‘Surely he’s better suited and qualified.’

  It was always Brooke d’Winters, Brooke d’Winters. Brooke d’Winters. Everyone thought the woman was an absolute paragon and she couldn’t stand it. Even her father thought the sun and the moon shone out of her. He had been a big fan of Brooke’s ever since she’d had that win with the National Bank and been able to talk them into putting a sub-branch in the Bindi Creek supermarket. The woman had the uncanny knack of always coming out on top. It was bloody infuriating.

  ‘Well, Vince would be fine too,’ Hugh agreed. He scratched his thatch of grey hair as he spoke. ‘It’s just that Brooke, as a doctor’s wife, has a special standing in the community. She’s well-liked too and she seems able to relate to kids. Anyway,’ he shrugged his shoulders, ‘it’s up to the Chamber of Commerce and Brooke to decide whether she wants to become involved.’

  ‘Next you’ll be putting her up for Citizen of the Year,’ Sharon spat out, unable to control her jealousy.

  Hugh, failing to catch her cynicism, beamed at his daughter. ‘What a good idea. Nice of you to think of it, Sharon.’

  Vince hid a smile as Sharon stamped her foot in frustration.

  ‘Oh, come on, Vince. We’ve got a plane to catch,’ Sharon said.

  ‘A plane to catch,’ Hugh reiterated. ‘Where are you two off to again?’

  ‘Oh, Dad, can’t you remember anything! We’re going down for the Melbourne Cup, and then we’re off to Tassie for a week, to visit Vince’s parents.’

  They said a hasty goodbye and, after picking up their bags, took a cab out to the airport.

  Sitting beside Vince, who insisted on holding her hand all the way, Sharon mentally gave vent to the frustration building inside her. She was happy to be taking a much-needed break away from Minta Downs and her father. He was ageing rapidly and she suspected that he had the beginnings of Alzheimer’s or some other mentally debilitating disease, for he was becoming forgetful and easily confused. If so, she didn’t relish the possibility of having to look after someone who was losing his mind. There were nursing homes with staff trained to cope with patients with problems like that.

  The spotlight on Brooke d’Winters had her liverish again. Astonishingly, the woman managed to get more than her share of attention around the district, which made Wes take more notice of her. She sighed lightly and rested her head back against the seat of the taxi, feigning tiredness. Her plan to make him jealous by being seen with other men wasn’t working, either.

  But one thing had happened that was to her advantage. Wes wasn’t seeing or being seen as often with the d’Winters. The corners of her mouth lifted in a sly smile as another idea came to her devious mind, one that just might make the mighty Wes Sinclair sit up and take notice. Everyone knew that Wes had a penchant for acquiring land, his intention being to make Sindalee the largest property in and around Cowra so that Drew and Fleece would inherit a small empire. If Sindalee and Minta Downs amalgamated through marriage, it would make her, when they married, the wife of the largest, wealthiest property owner in the district. And with her father’s health beginning to decline it was only a matter of time before she and Bethany inherited Minta Downs.

  Yes, this was a plan she could work on. She would hone it, refine it and, when ready, present it to him in such a way that he would find it impossible to say no.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Brooke and Jason celebrated their ninth wedding anniversary by paying their neighbour, Jan Stewart, to look after the twins and Sheridan overnight so that they could have a special dinner and a romantic evening. They dined sumptuously at the Ilfracombe Restaurant in Cowra, then retired to a charming B&B in Carcoar named ‘Dalebrook’, which had been faithfully restored by its owners.

  ‘They should have built a fireplace in here,’ Brooke complained mildly as, shivering, she dived beneath the covers of the high brass bed in the loft bedroom. The autumn evening had turned cool and she was glad of the warmth of the goose down doona.

  ‘Could have been a bit hard to do,’ Jason said as he switched off the light. ‘I think this might have originally been a stable or a barn.’ Wearing just his pyjama bottoms, the floorboards creaked under his weight as he joined her in the wide bed. ‘If you’re cold, my love, I know a foolproof way to warm both of us up.’

  ‘Wicked man.’ She laughed as he reached for her and held her so firmly against his chest that she could hear his heart beating.

  ‘You call me wicked!’ he said with a snort. ‘Who’s the one stark naked beneath the sheets?’

  She chuckled again as she drew her fingertips across his chest, tickling his nipples and curling her fingers in his chest hair. ‘Just thought it would save time.’

  Lying on her side, facing him, Brooke stared into his blue eyes—they were almost black in the near darkness. She marvelled at how their love had grown and deepened over the years. She inched towards him and kissed him, at first gently, then, as his knowing hands began to work their magic all over her body, more deeply, with a passion that was as tried and true as their relationship. Shivers of desire darted through her as Jason’s fingers caressed her breasts, the curve of her waist and lower, until she gasped in anticipation.

  ‘I don’t know how I managed to snare such a beautiful, sexy woman as you,’ he whispered, ‘but I’m awfully glad I did.’

  ‘You snared me?’ she teased as she arched closer to him, until their bodies touched from chest to knees. ‘All this time I thought I’d snared you. Doctors are supposed to be good catches, you know.’

  ‘Don’t know if I’m such a great catch. Have you seen our bank balance lately?’

  ‘It’s good enough for me, darling. You’re good enough for me, too,’ s
he assured him huskily.

  He rolled her onto her back and rained a series of feather-light kisses from her forehead down to her cheek and the side of her lips, before covering her mouth with his own in a deeply sensual kiss. Tongues darted, thrust, teased each other in an intimate dance which would lead to a deeper, more satisfying union.

  Minutes later, when he entered her, she moaned her need for him, but for several seconds he was still, satisfied to remain buried deep inside the heat of her. And then, in an exquisite kind of torture for them both, he began to move, gently at first. Soon the strokes became harder, deeper, until they ignited the core of her being and she spiralled and shuddered as orgasmic delights took over and brought them both complete fulfilment.

  Afterwards, snuggled against each other, arms and legs still entwined, they talked for a while in low tones until Brooke heard his breathing deepen and knew he had fallen asleep. He usually did after lovemaking, while she tended to maintain a high level of alertness.

  A three-quarter moon had risen and cast a narrow shaft of light through the single gable window, across the end of the brass bed, and it gave a cool, subtle glow to the room. A tender smile softened her features as, raising herself onto one elbow, she studied her husband’s features. Her hand reached out gently to comb back a few strands of hair that had fallen across his forehead. She noticed quite a few slivers of silver set against the black at his temples. In March he had celebrated his forty-first birthday and was at least five kilos heavier than when they’d first met. But, her smile widened, that only made him more cuddly.

  Settling the doona around them she couldn’t help but think how lucky they were. He had developed a solid practice in Bindi Creek; patients and the townspeople respected him. The children loved country life and Adam, chastened by his brush with death in the creek, wasn’t quite the daredevil he had once been. Luke was scholarly and already showed a medical bent, while Sheridan, now almost school age, was a pert little miss with a mind of her own.

  She sighed quietly into the large room, and there was a tinge of satisfaction to it. Finally she had finished her naturopathy course—it had been an on-again-off-again thing. She had passed with flying colours and was debating where to hang her shingle. The community medical centre seemed the most likely place. She didn’t want to appear to be working in opposition to Jason and she was aware that, as Wes had said years ago, country people adapted slowly to change, so building a patient base would take time. She yawned and stretched under the covers. Time…they had plenty of that—the rest of their lives together.

  All too soon their romantic interlude ended and Jason and Brooke returned home. In the early hours of Monday morning Jason left for Sydney to attend a one-day medical conference at a Darling Harbour hotel. This gave Brooke time to catch up on the practice’s paperwork, once the twins were off to school and Sheridan had gone to morning day care.

  At such times, she liked to wander through the house, relishing the fact that she was alone. She would pick up the odd toy, straighten the pile of magazines on the coffee table, lovingly touch one of her figurines and just enjoy the silence—a rare commodity in the d’Winters household. Time alone gave her precious moments to think, to remember the laughter and joy they shared here, and to plan the future. In a few years the boys would be off to high school, perhaps boarding school if they could afford it. And a holiday would be nice. They hadn’t managed to get away properly for several years.

  Returning to the kitchen, Brooke snapped out of her reverie as she suddenly remembered her promise to make cakes for the nursing home committee meeting that afternoon.

  Halfway through mixing the ingredients, a harried knock brought her to the front door. It was Jill from the supermarket, and she was obviously distressed.

  ‘Oh, Brooke, can you come? Gino Fasanella’s wife, Millie, she’s burnt herself quite badly. A gas jet under a vat of oil exploded, spraying burning oil all over her. Her clothes and hair caught fire. Gino smothered her in a blanket but she seems to be in a bad way. Vince Gersbach’s there.’ Jill took in a much-needed breath. ‘I saw the note on the surgery door. When will Dr d’Winters be back?’

  ‘Not till late tonight.’ Burns. Brooke tried not to think about Travis. If she did, she would freeze and be of no use to anyone. She put the mixing bowl down on the floor.

  ‘Oh, God. Poor Millie,’ Jill muttered as they rushed across the street to the takeaway shop.

  ‘Poor Millie’ was the right description. When Brooke got to Gino’s shop, she saw the mess. Foam from a fire extinguisher had doused the fire, but the ceiling of the café and the air inside was thick with smoke. Brooke’s swift, all-encompassing gaze took in the devastation to the café and Millie’s state. The blanket covered much of her, but she could smell burnt flesh and smouldering hair. Her face was blotchy with spot burns that would soon blister. Her work-worn hands were already swelling, and she moaned with pain as she rocked slightly from side to side on the tiled floor.

  Out of the corner of her eye Brooke saw Jean approach. ‘Quick, Jean, go to the surgery and get the oxygen cylinder.’ She looked at the chemist; he seemed to be in a state of shock. ‘Vince, have you got anything in your shop that we can wrap her in? Clean sheets, maybe?’ She saw him nod affirmatively. ‘Could you get whatever you have? Pethidine and a syringe too. Millie’s in pain because the burns aren’t deep enough to have damaged her nerve ends. The pethidine will ease her pain.’

  She glanced towards Gino. He was kneeling beside his wife, using a damp cloth to wipe her forehead. ‘Gino,’ called Brooke. He didn’t appear to hear her. She knew that every minute counted, that staff at Cowra hospital didn’t have the facilities or the medical expertise to care for a burns patient, so Millie would have to go further afield, to Sydney.

  ‘Gino! Gino!’ she said until she got his attention. ‘You must ring triple 0. We need a Careflight helicopter for Millie. She needs to go to a burns unit at a city hospital. Go to the phone, make the call. Now.’ Then she remembered something else. ‘Ask how long they’ll take and tell them they can land in the sports field behind the school.’ She turned to Jill and gave her a grim smile. ‘Please, Jill, go to the school. Tell the principal to keep the children well clear of the sports field until the helicopter takes off again.’

  ‘I…I…’ Gino shook his head. He was in shock himself and he hadn’t taken in a word she’d said.

  Jean came back with the oxygen cylinder and applied the mask to Millie’s face. Brooke repeated to Jean the instructions she’d given Gino and knew it would get done.

  A minute later Vince brought the requested items back. In seconds Brooke had prepared the injection and given it to Millie, whose dark eyes had been streaming with tears from the pain.

  ‘Am I gonna be all right, Brooke?’ she whispered fearfully.

  ‘Of course you are,’ Brooke assured her. For a moment, Travis’s bandaged image swam before her eyes and she baulked at what she had to do. The smell of burnt flesh almost made her gag. She forced the memories out of her head as she said to Millie, ‘We have to take the blanket off. It will also help if we remove the clothes where you’ve been burnt. The material is holding in the heat. We may have to soak them off, so you’re going to have to be very brave. Will you be?’ She watched Millie Fasanella nod. Brooke looked up at Jean, who’d made the call to triple 0. ‘How long?’

  ‘Forty minutes, tops.’ Jean began to help Brooke remove the blanket.

  Millie screamed.

  Gino came out of his trance and shouted at them. ‘Stop it, you’re killing her!’

  The look Brooke gave him made him lapse into silence. ‘If I don’t get the blanket and burnt clothes off before the burnt flesh sticks to it, it will be twice as bad for her when she gets to hospital.’

  ‘Gino, Brooke seems to know what she’s doing,’ Vince said forcefully. ‘You can’t help here. Go outside and watch for the helicopter.’ He looked at Brooke. ‘I brought another vial. Can we give her more pethidine?’

  Broo
ke thought for a moment before she decided. ‘All right. Just half of what she had before.’

  It took a strong stomach to look at someone who’d been severely burnt. Parts of the top layer of skin, the epidermis, were charred. Underneath it, the second layer, the dermis, was blood-red and swollen, with clear fluid plasma oozing from the flesh. From what Brooke could see, Millie had burns to almost seventy per cent of her body. However, they appeared to be of a partial nature rather than third-degree burns, which, later on, would be in her favour.

  ‘Can she have fluids?’ Jean asked.

  ‘No. If she becomes nauseated she could vomit and that would be painful for her.’

  It was an agonisingly slow process to remove the blanket and the burnt clothes then roll Millie onto the sheet, but the pethidine had taken effect so it wasn’t as painful a process as it might have been. Brooke looked down at the patient and made soothing noises. She had done all she could for her. Once the helicopter arrived it would be up to the burns unit at Concord Hospital to do the rest.

  Reaction to the drama that had suddenly unfolded was now taking its toll on Brooke. Her hands were trembling slightly and she knew that the queasiness in her stomach wasn’t caused by the fact that she’d forgotten to eat breakfast. Memories of what Travis had gone through kept pushing their way to the forefront of her mind, bringing back the pain, the sadness.

  ‘It’s coming! The helicopter’s coming!’ Gino rushed in to tell everyone. He dropped to his knees and spoke to Millie, who was in a semi-dazed state. ‘Soon it will be all right, cara mia.’ He looked across to where Brooke knelt on the other side of his wife. ‘Grazie, grazie, Brooke. I thank you,’ he said simply, his eyes awash with tears.

  ‘She will be okay, Gino. But her rehabilitation will take time.’

  ‘Ahh,’ he said, shrugging expressively. ‘What is time? Nothing. All that matters is that my Millie gets better.’