Lake Hill

by Margareta Osborn

  ‘I really didn’t know you were so Catholic,’ said Charlie mildly.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Sure sounds like you are.’

  ‘SHUT UP, Charlie!’

  They all jumped, including Julia.

  ‘Geez, I’m only trying to ease the tension,’ Charlie said.

  ‘I’ll give you tension. She’s a fucking journalist. She’ll be noting or recording everything we say to use it against us later!’

  ‘Boys, boys, settle down,’ said Jean, flapping placating hands.

  Charlie took a toothpick from his bag and prodded at his teeth. ‘I just think you’re being a little paranoid, boss.’

  ‘How can you say that? You saw how those stories about Mother pushed Dad over the edge. He shot his own head off, Charlie!’

  ‘Yeah, he did. But this little lady says she’s not one, so we gotta believe her till proven otherwise.’

  Rick sucked in a breath and fell silent. Everyone was immobile, quiet, like the calm after a particularly violent storm. Julia could almost see Rick trying to haul back some semblance of composure. She knew what that was like – trying to hide what you really felt. She’d done it most of her life.

  ‘So what do we do about her car?’ asked Ernie, prodding the conversation back to its original course.

  Rick glared at Julia like she was the instigator of all his troubles, which was most unfair. She was telling the truth. It was his problem if he didn’t believe her.

  Finally, he said, ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Out on the highway.’

  ‘How did you get into town?’

  ‘Your sister actually. Go ask her.’

  ‘Montana?’ His expression shifted from surly to surprised. ‘She was supposed to be working.’ He deliberated a moment or two, then shook his head. ‘It’ll be those damn ewes! I told her we don’t have the right fences.’

  Julia was silent. She didn’t want to dob in her rescuer.

  Rick was frowning again. ‘Did she have sheep in a trailer?’

  Julia nibbled at her lips.

  ‘I think she might have, boss,’ said Charlie.

  Rick exploded again. ‘Bloody hell! She knows I don’t want sheep on the property. I’ve got enough on my hands with the cattle, doing all the hay and looking after Dad’s estate without having to chase fucking sheep all the way to Narree.’

  ‘She wants them to train her dogs.’

  Charlie was defending Montana now. He really was a white knight in a singlet, thought Julia.

  ‘She should be working, not playing around with those damn mutts.’

  ‘They were doing pretty well with those weaners the other day,’ said Charlie.

  Rick stared at him. ‘She was working the weaners?’

  Julia rolled her eyes. Off they went again. She cleared her throat loudly and all eyes swung her way.

  ‘If you don’t mind, Mr Halloran. Now we’ve cleared up the facts that I’m not a journalist and your sister has indeed bought some sheep, can you assist me with my car or not?’

  They all stared at her in silence. Rick opened and shut his mouth a few times. Narrowed his eyes. Then he swung around and stormed towards the door.

  ‘I’ll go take a look. See if it’s really busted.’

  He was seriously going to go back out all the way to the highway to check she was telling the truth? Well, damn him. She couldn’t believe she’d even contemplated the possibility of running into this man in Lakes Entrance.

  She let out a whistle that was guaranteed to stop traffic. Rick halted mid-stride at the doorway to the hotel’s main entrance.

  ‘Just leave it,’ she said to his back in the most regal tone she could muster. ‘I’ll ring the RACV in the morning. Don’t even worry your thick head about it. I’ll be gone before you know it.’

  But Rick Halloran ignored her and kept walking right out the pub door.

  Chapter 5

  A motor started up outside, followed by lights that shone brightly through the pub window as Rick’s vehicle headed towards the highway.

  Ignoring the three men, who were suddenly concentrating on glass polishing, the floral teapot and the current race at Sandown, Julia said to Jean, ‘I’ll take the best room you’ve got, and if it’s not too much trouble I’d like a cooked breakfast as well.’

  She’d need sustenance to get through the coming days. Life really did have a weird way of biting you on the behind. She should have looked towards Northern Victoria or even New South Wales for her ‘new life’. She shouldn’t have been on the road in that storm. And she really ought not to have thought a return to the place where it all started would help her deal with her recent grief.

  Jean nodded gravely. She pulled a dog-eared exercise book from behind the bar and perused it. ‘I’ll give you number four. It looks out over the beer garden.’

  Great. At least it was a room with a view.

  ‘Oh, and it’s got a bath. One of those big old claw-foot ones.’ Jean must have seen Julia’s sag of relief because she added, ‘I could probably rustle up some bath salts or smelly stuff too.’

  Thank you, Jean.

  ‘Don’t make her too comfortable,’ said Charlie. ‘I’ll be needin’ that room meself tomorrow night.’

  Jean shook her head. ‘There’s no way you’re ever getting near my best room, Charlie Howell.’

  ‘Why not?’ he said indignantly. ‘I never vomit on the sheets!’

  ‘That’s exactly the point,’ said his sister-in-law. ‘You always spew up your guts after a big night. The back room is all you’re getting.’

  ‘That looks over the outside dunny,’ whined Charlie.

  ‘This conversation isn’t about you, bro, it’s about Julia here.’ Bluey turned his attention on her. ‘Love, I think you should have a drink. Rick’ll be a while.’ He shoved a glass of clear liquid towards her. ‘On the house.’

  ‘It’s all the lies,’ said Ernie out the side of his mouth.

  Julia gazed at him. He was staring ahead, as if the mantel clock behind the bar needed his complete attention.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ he said. ‘I really shouldn’t be telling you.’

  Julia snapped her eyes to the front. ‘What lies?’ she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  ‘The ones those tabloid journalists make up. They’ve been haunting Ricardo all his life, but particularly since his parents died. If they can’t drum up any facts, they invent them.’

  Still, that didn’t excuse his downright rudeness, Julia thought.

  ‘I’m really not a journalist, you know. I wanted to be, once.’ And she had. Until other things intervened. ‘I’m – well, I was – a law clerk who’s now hoping to become a cafe owner.’

  ‘I didn’t think you were one of them,’ he said. ‘You haven’t got that wolfish look in your eyes.’

  Julia hated to think what he did see in her eyes. Despair? Anger? Disappointment? All jammed on top of each other.

  ‘So, these journalists, what did they want exactly?’

  ‘Dirt. Morbid details about the couple’s death. Rick’s mother was Elsbeth Halloran, the famous Golden Globe-winning actress. Surely you’ve heard of her?’

  Julia nodded. Memories clambered up and she pushed them back.

  ‘His father was Cormac Halloran. I don’t know if you’re into art at all but he was a highly acclaimed oil painter.’ Ernie shook his head sadly. ‘His work was unique. It’s been dreadful since they both died. Particularly since … well, Cormac, you know …’

  Julia could hear he was having trouble keeping his voice steady. She placed a hand gently on his arm. ‘You were friends with Mr Halloran?’

  ‘Well … yes.’

  The hesitation was slight, but Julia noticed it and wondered. A friendship with an artist of that calibre might, she guessed, be turbulent.

  ‘We’ve had to close ranks in town. Protect Ricardo. The most recent fellow, before the one this morning, went so far as to hire a boat. Tried to beach it on Rick’s sho
re and claim he was in distress.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Sinking. Although he probably was in danger of that after Charlie shot holes in his boat.’

  They both looked at Charlie, who was now talking to an elderly woman in the furthest corner of the room. There was something about her that was arresting.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Julia asked.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Ernie said sighing. ‘That is Miss Finch. Our resident tragic figure. She lost her fiancé sixty years ago.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Charlie and Miss Finch appeared to be talking about a book the elderly woman was holding. Julia couldn’t see the title, but Miss Finch herself was now in full view, lit by the glow of a nearby lamp. Her face was a mass of deep wrinkles, and her hair, tightly curled in the style of a spiral perm, was a washed-out flaxen colour rather than grey. A soft burgundy floral bow pinned her fringe to one side, giving a sense of childishness and another era.

  The two were chatting avidly and Julia wondered what was so interesting about that particular book. She craned her head to see the title. The something of Love was all she could make out.

  ‘Good evening to you, Ms Gunn,’ said Ernie. ‘I must retire, but I do hope your motor car is repaired and you can be on your way soon.’ He gave her a slight smile, doffed his ridiculous cap and made his way out of the bar.

  Julia watched him go, then turned back to the counter at the sound of clinking china.

  ‘He’s bought you a pot of tea,’ said Bluey, plonking down a hot teapot. ‘Earl Grey, no less. I charge extra for the fancy stuff. Old Ernie must’ve liked you otherwise you would’ve got plain old Tetley’s.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ she said, both touched and surprised.

  ‘Because he’s Ernie. Used to be our doctor. Retired now, but we convinced him to stay, despite everything.’ He moved down the bar to serve another customer.

  Despite everything? What was everything? Julia wondered.

  The hands of the clock behind the bar ever so slowly edged around the dial. Julia poured one cup of tea and then another, and people-watched until she was heartily sick of it. Harry, the policeman, had long since left. Jean zoomed in and out of the room but steered clear of Julia, while Bluey kept on the move, pouring drinks for the assortment of farmers and blue-collar workers who turned up. All were wearing jeans or khaki shorts, and cotton shirts with the sleeves rolled halfway up their tanned arms or hi-vis tops or vests. There wasn’t a suit in sight. Rupert would’ve stood out like a monkey in an Australian native wildlife park, Julia thought.

  Finally, Rick Halloran strode into the room, the swinging doors whooshing shut behind him. The prodigal son was back and he was wiping his hands on a rag.

  ‘So, what’s the verdict?’ said Jean, suddenly materialising before Julia could even open her mouth.

  ‘It won’t be back on the road outside of a week. I’ll have to order some parts and they’ll take a while to get here.’

  Julia thunked her teacup onto its saucer. She didn’t want to stay in town that long! She forced herself to breathe through her escalating anxiety. ‘Surely it’s not that bad?’

  ‘It’s that bad.’

  Behind her, Charlie sighed loudly. ‘That’s it, then. I’m definitely not gunna get that room with the view.’

  ‘You’d best be letting your husband know,’ said Bluey. ‘Maybe he can come get you?’

  Not unless there’s an express train from heaven …

  ‘I’ll tow it up to the Grange,’ said Rick. ‘That’s unless you want it parked outside the pub for the week, Bluey?’

  ‘No way, boss. It’d bugger our reputation having a French shit-hea– oops, vehicle out front. You know as well as I do the Kelly boys would have a field day.’

  ‘What on earth have you all got against European cars?’ Julia wondered aloud.

  ‘It’s an affront to their Australian manhood, that’s what,’ said Jean. ‘Bloody men. It’s either LandCruisers or Nissans in these parts. Well, except for the boss here who’s actually been exposed to some culture.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You’d think with the way the rest of you lot go on, being a redneck bushman is the only way to live.’

  ‘It is,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Can’t argue with that,’ said Bluey.

  Rick was still glaring distractedly at the rag in his hand.

  ‘Hey!’ said Julia. ‘That’s my Hermès scarf!’ Rupert had given it to her their last Christmas together.

  Rick blinked and pulled the scrap of fabric out to its full length. A long smear of black greasy oil ran right along it.

  ‘Holy moly, Batman,’ said Jean. ‘That’s silk if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘And cashmere,’ said Julia. She felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

  Rick studied the scarf. ‘I found it out in the hall, near the door. The dog had it in his mouth. Thought it was an old rag. Sorry, I didn’t realise.’

  ‘Well, how do you intend to replace it?’ asked Julia. ‘It’s worth a few thousand.’

  Despite Rick’s fame as a sculptor, he looked like he barely had enough cash to replace his shirt. Though he filled it out rather well, much as she hated to admit it.

  He shrugged. ‘I’ll find the money.’

  ‘Oh my, a Hermès scarf!’ said a high-pitched voice.

  Julia smelled Miss Finch before she saw her – intense floral notes of rose and jasmine. If she wasn’t mistaken, Miss Finch was misted in Jean Patou’s Joy.

  ‘May I?’ the elderly lady asked Rick with a peremptory waggle of her fingers.

  He placed the scarf – rather reverently now, Julia liked to think – in the elderly lady’s wrinkled hands. The scarlet nail polish on her well-manicured fingernails went well with the colours in the scarf.

  ‘Oh my,’ she said as she lifted the fabric to her cheek. She rubbed it against her weathered skin, mumbling unintelligibly to herself. Her green eyes were misted with memory and she gently swayed on her feet, as if waltzing to music only she could hear.

  ‘Miss Finch?’ said Jean, moving around the front of the bar.

  ‘Mmmm?’ said the old lady, still swaying, a half-smile on her lips.

  ‘We need to give the scarf back to this lady.’

  Miss Finch pulled the fabric away from her face and looked at it with a dazed expression. ‘Matthias?’ she said, her voice faint and wavering.

  ‘C’mon now, honey, let’s give the scarf back. How about I get you a nice sherry instead?’

  ‘Here you go,’ said Bluey, passing Jean a small glass. ‘A little night-cap and then Charlie’ll take you home.’

  Jean gently retrieved Julia’s scarf from Miss Finch’s slack fingers and replaced it with the glass. ‘Down the hatch,’ she said, quickly handing the length of silk and cashmere back to Julia.

  The old lady sank the sherry in one swift, practised movement. She scowled at Julia and gave the scarf an avaricious stare.

  ‘Now, Lottie, where did you put your beautiful book?’ asked Rick. ‘You don’t want to lose track of it.’

  Miss Finch stopped staring at the scarf and turned a full-force smile on Rick. ‘I had it in my hand, Ricardo. It was right here a moment ago.’

  ‘Here it is,’ said Charlie, handing over the slim battered book, which Julia could now see was a volume of poetry.

  Miss Finch clasped it in her arms like a lover. ‘Beautiful,’ she murmured. ‘Matthias gave it to me,’ she added to no one in particular.

  ‘He did, Lottie.’ Rick gently took the old woman by the arm and guided her across the room, at the same time signalling for Charlie to fall in alongside. ‘Matthias must have adored you to give you such a beautiful gift.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Miss Finch with a beaming smile.

  Rick smiled back, and the sight nearly broke Julia’s heart. It was the same smile she’d loved twenty years before. She remembered his eyes brimming with tenderness, or crinkling with amused delight, and the quirk of those delicious lips that transformed his whole face into
pure handsomeness.

  ‘Can I kiss you?’ he said, his voice a murmur in her ear.

  The soft sensation made her shiver with delight. ‘Yes,’ she breathed.

  He gently took off her glasses and laid them aside. His mouth descended towards hers as if in slow motion.

  Julia didn’t notice how close the boat was to docking at Metung. She didn’t see or hear the rest of the party-goers piling out the cabin doors. All her senses were overwhelmed by this man. He made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered. And now he was going to kiss her.

  His lips hovered above hers a moment, as if checking it was still okay for him to cross an invisible line. She tilted her head upwards a little more. Inviting.

  She tasted butterscotch and mint. And then his soft yet virile scent curled around her and there was nothing but warmth and the feel of his lips, his tongue, and desire zooming through her body.

  ‘Land ahoy!’ shouted Ben Norten.

  ‘Land ahoy!’ echoed a chorus of other drunken voices.

  But Julia barely registered the nudge as the boat manoeuvred against the jetty. She and Rick were in their own world, enveloped in passion.

  ‘Hey there, Halloran. You might want to stop sucking face and get off the boat.’ Ben again. He was standing beside them now, grinning and indicating the gangway leading ashore.

  Julia, flushing with embarrassment, tried to break away. But Rick held fast to her hand.

  ‘Don’t mind if I do, thanks, Benno,’ he said, and pulled Julia with him onto the jetty, making for the shore.

  ‘Hey! Where are you going?’ yelled Ben as Rick turned left, rather than right towards the hotel.

  ‘Nowhere you need to know,’ Rick called back.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Julia, a little frightened now.

  At the tremor in her voice, Rick stopped and gazed down at her. ‘Do you trust me?’

  Julia thought about it. She’d watched him avidly all summer, and knew from the way he acted with other girls that he was a gentleman. And the aura of authority that swirled around him, even at this young age, was reassuring.

  ‘I promise it’ll be okay,’ he said. ‘But if you want to go with the others, that’s fine too.’