by Margaret Way
He gave her a sympathetic look. “I can understand more than most how he feels. You were always together, then you went away. Though I realize you had to make that decision.”
“Tell that to Mitch,” she said dismally.
“Do you think I haven’t? Mitch is my best friend. We’ve talked a lot about it, but when you’re in so much emotional pain it’s difficult to achieve objectivity. Everything seemed plain sailing for poor old Mitch. The two of you were going to get married eventually. You were born for each other. Born to live your lives together. You were so much in love.”
“As close as you and Sarah.”
“Both of you left and both of us kind of died,” Kyall responded with deep, remembered feeling.
“You had relationships.”
“Neither of us would deny it. We’re human. But Sarah is and always will be the love of my life.”
“I haven’t found anyone to replace Mitch either,” she confessed.
“You must have had lots of guys wanting a relationship?” Kyall considered, looking at his beautiful sister.
“I can’t commit.” She made a slight frustrated sound. “Deep down I can’t forget Mitch any more than you could forget Sarah. We’re alike in that way, the two of us. Single-minded.”
“It can make things very hard at times.” Kyall pondered. He stared down at his sister, deciding with pride she was stunning. The eyes, the mouth, the skin, the beautiful bone structure revealed by the way she had scraped her long dark mane back into a thick braid, just like she’d used to wear her hair when she was younger. But beyond all that it was a brave face. The face of a young woman who had made her own way in life. “I pray it’ll all end well, Chris. I want you to be happy. Mitch too. Both of you are very important to me. It would be wonderful if you could settle back into this life. But you have to contend with the fact Mitch is part of the land like me.”
“Do you think I haven’t taken that into account?” she answered gravely. “The land is your life. Fully and wholly. Perhaps for Mitch even more than for you. You’ve taken on so many business interests. Suppose I tell you I’ve missed my Outback home terribly. I’m like the rest of the ex-pats. I have to have Vegemite on my toast and burn a few gum leaves now and again just to recapture the scent of the bush. But you’re a man, Kyall. That was and remains the big issue. You’ve inherited Wunnamurra. I was kept out of it.”
“Would you want to run it?” he asked, prepared to extend to her all the sharing she needed.
“No.” She laughed and shook her head. “Too much back-breaking work. That’s your job, but I reckon I could help. I’ve been very good with handling my money. Among my peers I’m considered pretty smart.”
“You won’t get an argument from me.” He flashed a smile nearly identical to her own. “Listen, I’d love you to stay, Chris. You could take your rightful place. I have more irons in the fire than even you know. We’ve diversified a great deal more over the past six or seven years. We’ve moved into speciality foods and wine. We bought out Beauview Station in the Clare Valley, poured a lot of money into it, secured the services of a great wine maker. You’ll have to see it. Now you’re home I’d like to fill you in about the family holdings. I could find a nice little place for you on a board or two. I’m certain you’ve got a head for it. You should really know all about the family assets. You’re my sister.”
“And I’ve remained in the dark too long. I’d love to learn all about McQueen Enterprises. I guess that’s one reason you’re stuck with the name.” Christine considered that fact seriously. “To the Outback and the business world you are McQueen.”
Kyall grimaced. “It’s just that I feel guilty about Dad and his feelings.”
“You know Dad,” she said. “He’s accepted it. He knows the difficulties. He knows you love him. And we’re living proof of him. We have his smile, his height, and his beautiful blue eyes. It’s Mum who doesn’t fully appreciate his worth.”
“Then she might have a problem.” Kyall put his arm around his sister’s shoulders as they began to walk up the staircase.
Christine shot him a worried look.
“Dad’s seeing someone else, Chris.”
“Oh, God!” Why wasn’t she surprised? “Mum would die if he left her.”
“Ah, well! Mum’s been acting like they’re sister and brother instead of husband and wife. They have separate suites. She doesn’t push him away, and I’m fairly sure she loves him in her own way, but she doesn’t go out of her way to please him, if you know what I mean. There are plenty of women in the town who would love to have a little flutter with Dad. But he’s very careful about things like that. I think, given the situation, he’s been extraordinarily faithful, but he hasn’t had much of a life. With someone refined and discreet it’s another matter.”
“Oh, God!” Christine repeated on a soft wail. Although situations like this were commonplace, she hadn’t expected it to strike home. If her mother found out about another woman could she deal with it?
Christine didn’t think so.
Several days later she stood on Wunnamurra’s broad verandah, shielding her eyes from the brilliant light of the sun. She was waiting for Mitch to arrive, to fly her to Marjimba, having detailed one of the station hands to drive him from the airstrip to the homestead. She’d timed her visit to Marjimba to coincide with Kyall’s flight to Sydney.
His was a combined exercise—returning Suzanne to her boarding school and meeting with some new financial people—merchant bankers—McQueen Enterprises was considering dealing with.
There’d been some heart-wrenching moments an hour earlier when she’d seen Suzanne off. Suzanne had trudged down the front steps, her vision wavering with tears. The sight had upset Christine so much she’d found she had to hold back on her own.
“I hate school.” Suzanne had allowed the words to burst from her lips immediately they were underway in the Jeep.
“Sweetheart, just about everyone hates school.” Christine, at the driving wheel, gave her a sympathetic glance, “But you haven’t got much longer to go. Then it’ll be all over.”
“It’s been hell trying to hide how I feel. Everyone feels sorry for you for a while, then they forget. They have no idea what it’s like to lose your parents. You really do love me, don’t you, Chris?” Suzanne sent her cousin such an appealing look it would have melted stone.
“Hey, of course I love you.” Christine reached out her left hand to squeeze her cousin’s delicate shoulder. “You’re my little cousin. I’m only sorry I haven’t been around for you, so we could get to know each other much better and have some fun. But there’s the rest of our lives. Soon you’ll be free to launch yourself on the next exciting stage of your life. And I’ll be there to help.”
Suzanne shook her head plaintively. “I wish! But you fly off overseas all the time.”
“I’m considering staying put.”
“Are you serious?” Suzanne sounded amazed and delighted.
“Would I lie to you?”
“Actually…no.” Suzanne smiled for the first time that morning. “But what about your modelling? Don’t you have to give notice or something?”
“No, sweetie. I don’t want you to talk about this—it’s a secret for the time being—but I’ve been giving serious consideration to getting out of the business.”
“When you’re so hot?”
Christine laughed. “I’ve had quite a few years on the catwalks and magazine covers. It’s not as glamorous as you think.”
“But don’t you make tons of money?”
Christine turned her head in amusement. “Aren’t you the one who said as a family we’ve all got too much? I don’t usually dish out clichés, but money can’t buy love and happiness, kiddo. And that’s what I want for you.”
“I could be happy if you stayed,” Suzanne confided. “But what would you do?” she asked with the greatest interest. “You’ve been so famous. All my girlfriends think you’re gorgeous.”
“I work
at it.” Christine smiled. “Genes and a good dose of self-discipline. I’ve been thinking I might become a businesswoman.” She slowed the Jeep as they approached the airstrip. “I have a good head on my shoulders. Kyall wants to teach me the business.”
“Oh, that would be great!” Suzanne’s soft grey eyes were huge. “You’d stay home in Australia?”
“Those are my thoughts, sweetie. I like the idea of being around for you too. And there’s Fiona. I just know you two girls are going to hit if off wonderfully.”
Minutes later Suzanne was waving happily from inside the King Air while Kyall took the opportunity to have a few parting words with his sister.
“Well, there’s a change. Suzy actually looks happy. What did you say?”
“I promised her I’m going to be around for her. She needs family badly. She’s still in terrible pain from losing her parents.”
“Of course she is, poor little mite. But how you’re going to be around for her is the burning question, given your career.”
“You’ve offered me options, brother.” She smiled into his eyes, relishing the fact he was taller. “At this point I might be ready to start another career.”
“Anything that keeps you home suits me. What’s more, you have a very good chance of landing our good friend Mitch.”
“My now-or-never chance,” she said wryly.
“Make the most of it,” Kyall urged.
“I will.” She held up her face for his kiss.
“You two were meant for each other.” Kyall’s eyes were serious. “Say hello for me.”
“Will do.”
Mitch arrived looking like the hero of some Western movie. The one who always got the girl. Irrevocably sunny-natured, with that golden shock of hair, changeable sea-coloured eyes, bold and sparkling against the smooth golden tan, and the irresistible flash of beautiful white teeth.
“Hi!” he called, slamming the door of the open Jeep and sauntering jauntily towards the homestead verandah. He’d promised himself he’d do his level best to be friendly, but he knew he’d have to work hard at it.
“Hi, yourself!” Christine had deliberately posed herself against twin white columns, trying for a touch of humour to break down the expected tensions. After all, they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Indeed, it seemed they would never get back onto their old footing. Such was the price of her defection.
“Chris, you break my heart!” he responded pleasantly, sweeping off his cream akubra and holding it on cue to his chest. “You’re so beautiful, so hot, so sexy! Pity I’m not a photographer.” That came out a bit too dryly.
“That’s okay. I did dress up a bit, but not in a huge way. Like the outfit?”
“Love it.” He ambled up onto the verandah as she broke her pose. “Prairie style, is it?” he asked with mock interest.
“Say, that’s knowledgeable.” She stared down at herself. She wore jeans with a very feminine cream cotton and lace blouse, and a fancy turquoise buckled belt around her narrow waist. “How did you know?”
He allowed himself a slight laugh, though the sight of her had sharpened his nerves. “Mum has a magazine with you in it looking like some glorious frontier woman, dressed in long suede skirts and high leather boots, with big wide belts and lots of lace and pretty puffed sleeves. Did they know you can ride like the wind?”
“Didn’t you notice the one of me on the galloping horse?”
“Hell, I must have missed it.” His eyes were sardonic. “I loved the one where you were sitting under a tree strumming a guitar. Nice combination—Victorian blouse, tight sexy jeans and leather boots. But I happen to know you can’t play the guitar.”
“All right, so you can.”
“Multi-talented, that’s me.” He leaned back against a column, still studying her. She was so beautiful. But there was a wall between them he couldn’t get around or over. Nevertheless, he was determined to keep to his promise to be sociable. “Remember that stage I went through of trying to yodel?” he asked.
“I remember the falsetto.” She turned a smiling face to him, her expression soft and dreamy.
“So why did you keep telling me I could have made it big?”
“As a busker.” In fact she’d loved him crooning to her in his smooth melodious voice, her limbs curling up with pleasure. “Mum doesn’t want you to leave until you have morning tea.”
“I hate morning tea.” He mouthed the words.
“Never mind. There are some things a guy’s gotta do. Come inside. It’s all set up in the garden room. It’s abloom at the moment, with some of Mum’s spectacular plants.”
“This I’ve got to see.” He spoke smoothly. It was a good thing she couldn’t hear his pounding heart.
Enid, her fine dark eyes full of bright curiosity, was waiting for them in the double-storeyed light-filled room Ewan McQueen, Christine’s grandfather, had built onto the rear of the main house in the early days of his marriage to Ruth.
It was a striking room, distinguished by such an array of exotic plants one had the feeling of being enclosed in a sub-tropical garden. Palms soared, along with golden canes, banana trees, tree ferns, orchids, bromeliads, all kinds of lilium—white, cream, yellow, orange, shocking pink and purple—waxy, highly scented gardenias, colourful pelargoniums, and every variety of philodendron, some with enormous deeply lobed leaves. Everything was grown in pots, and the temperature of the room was controlled by air-conditioning.
As if that weren’t enough, Mitch thought wryly, a large Victorian wrought-iron central fountain had been installed, presenting the spectacle and sound of abundant water on the desert fringe. The sparkling emerald green surface was the perfect background for a flotilla of luxuriant creamy-white water lilies.
At home with the McQueens! They sure knew how to live. Whether some of them deserved it was another matter. His homestead at Marjimba, though big and pleasing, was no possible match for this. Wunnamurra homestead was regarded as one of the finest in the country, and was a showpiece; its rooms were filled with marvellous antiques, the walls aglow with paintings worth a fortune, Chinese porcelains and jade in cabinets, Oriental screens and rugs. You name it, some collector in the family had acquired it. It had been rumoured at one time that Ruth McQueen had an Egyptian mummy secreted away some place. Ruby Hall, Koomera Crossing’s resident sticky beak, had blabbed it. He believed that as much as he believed pigs could fly.
“Mitchell, dear!” Enid called to him in a cultured voice that always managed to sound patronising to his ears. “It’s so nice of your mother to invite Christine over.”
Poor, problematic Christine, he thought, with ongoing resentment towards Christine’s autocratic mother. His own home had been more of a shelter and a haven to Christine than this mansion had ever been.
Oblivious to his thoughts, Enid rose from behind a long glass-topped table, extending her hand like royalty.
“How are you, Enid?” He took it gallantly. His mother was big on manners.
She seemed to search his face for something. He wasn’t sure what. “Well, I’m doing my best.” She sucked in her cheeks. “I miss Mother terribly, of course, but I can’t let the rest of the family down. I want this to be a peaceful time for Christine whilst she’s here.”
“So how long is that to be?” He half turned, caught Christine’s eye, his expression as sardonic as hers.
“Just until Mum decides to kick me out.” Christine rocked on her boot heels, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans.
“Christine, the things you say!” Enid looked exasperated. “You know I hate it when you go away.”
Christine smiled broadly. “Gosh, Mum, I’ve never noticed.”
Enid waved a hand at her. “Darling girl, must we air our differences with Mitchell here?”
“He won’t stand up for me.” She shot Mitch a swift, challenging look.
“You can stand up for yourself,” he returned coolly.
“True.”
“I had such high hopes for you tw
o,” Enid went on to reveal. “To my mind you’re perfect husband material, Mitchell.”
“Pity Chris didn’t think so,” he answered carelessly, as though it no longer mattered. “If she had, life would have taken a different turn—wouldn’t it, Chrissy?” He glanced at her with light mockery.
“I expect we’d have six or seven kids by now.”
“I guess so.” He didn’t smile, suddenly busy trying to steer out of the rapids.
“You were just too foolish, Christine.” Enid shook her head in censure.
“So why isn’t anyone desperate to marry you, Mitch?” Christine retaliated, meeting his extraordinary eyes.
“Chrissy, darling, you’re way behind the times,” he drawled. “Some very nice girls indeed are in the running.”
“Annie Oakley out there?”
“There was a time you worked hard at being that, Christine,” Enid reminded her. “The arguments we had, trying to get you to put on a dress. Let alone a bit of make-up. Now you’re plastered with it.”
Christine turned her head towards her mother in mild astonishment. “I wear very little make-up away from the camera, Mum. I’m not wearing much now.”
“In your job, I mean.” Enid clucked. “You could hardly call it a profession. I’ll be so pleased when you’re out of it. We all know the dangers. Now…come sit down, Mitchell, dear. I’m sure there’s something you’ll love here. All freshly baked in your honour. Christine, be a good girl and check if the tea’s ready.”
“Sure. I’ll nip out to the kitchen right now. You keep Mitch entertained.”
“There are just no words to describe my daughter!” Enid gave Mitch a half-pained, half-conspiratorial look, staring after the tall, incredibly elegant Christine as she glided out of the room. “How can we communicate properly when she’s always attempting to take a rise out of me?”
“I’m sure we love her all the same,” Mitch offered smoothly, staring at a beautiful, very showy orchid, its colours a combination of crimson, purple and pink. Wunnamurra had such an orchid right on its doorstep. Its name was Christine.
