by Di Morrissey
TR swung his feet down to the bottom of the pool so he was standing close to Jenni. He was still holding her hand. They stared at each other for a moment and Jenni saw how long his eyelashes fringing his blue eyes were. Droplets of water sparkled on his lashes and she reached up to his face with her other hand as TR closed his eyes and lowered his face to hers. His lips brushed against hers, then Jenni’s passive mouth burned to life, kissing him back with a force that made him stumble. She wrapped her arms about him and held him close as he began to kiss her back. Jenni’s nipples were hard and erect, thrusting through the thin covering of her swimsuit and jutting into the smooth skin of TR’s chest. He ran his hands down the slinky wet length of her back, one hand travelling over her hips and buttocks drawing her body close to his.
Suddenly he pulled away. ‘No. This isn’t right.’ He fell backwards under the water and sidestroked away from her, bursting to the surface near the pool steps.
Jenni didn’t move. Shivering, she watched him pull himself clumsily out of the pool and flop onto the grass. He buried his face in his towel, fiercely rubbing his face as if to wipe away all traces of her kiss. With tears in her eyes Jenni turned away.
Queenie and Saskia walked arm in arm through the gardens to the Gadens’ house for lunch. Queenie knew Colin would be there too and she felt sick with apprehension at seeing her brother after so many years.
Ria, Bruce, and Colin were gathered on the patio when Queenie and Saskia arrived. Saskia glanced at her mother and swiftly squeezed her hand.
Colin took the initiative and stepped forward, giving Queenie and Saskia a light kiss on the cheek.
‘Hello Colin,’ said Queenie in a neutral voice.
He stepped back and spread his hands. ‘I’m astounded, you look the same as you did at Saskia’s age.’
‘Thank you. I can see you’ve learned some of that Italian charm,’ said Queenie without changing her expression. Although she appeared cool and calm, Queenie was flustered. The sight of Colin had sent an angry electric current tingling through every fibre of her body. Whatever feelings she thought she’d let go came surging back. Behind the new facade was the same old Colin, though Queenie had to admit he certainly had acquired an attractive, if slightly decadent, veneer of sophistication.
Bruce’s voice cut in on her thoughts. ‘I was thinking that too — you could pass for sisters. Saskia, what do you both want to drink?’
‘Juice for me, thanks.’
‘I brought some white wine,’ said Colin, ‘a Rosemount chardonnay. Queenie, a glass?’
‘Thank you, Colin.’
Ria and Bruce exchanged a swift glance. The civility was chilling. Ria excused herself to go to the kitchen to see why there was ominous silence from Greta, who’d been left to shell peas.
‘Make sure Pansy isn’t getting stuck into them,’ Colin called after her and they all laughed, except Queenie, who didn’t know about the house-broken Shetland.
‘How’s TR doing?’ said Colin.
‘He’s coming on. How is Dina?’ Queenie continued the small talk as Bruce took Saskia inside with him to help in the kitchen. ‘We’ll let you guys catch up a bit,’ he said, hoping the ice in the air would melt in the meantime.
‘Dina is all right. She likes having her father near and living at the Gold Coast — for the time being.’ Colin handed Queenie a glass of the chilled white wine. ‘So, how are you really, Queenie?’ he asked bluntly.
‘Colin, this is very difficult for me. When I got back and found what Saskia had done, I was very angry with you . . .’
‘Hey, it wasn’t my idea, Queenie. You always blame me right off, don’t you.’
‘Let me finish. I knew she’d been a bit frustrated at uni but I felt she could have hung on till she got her degree. I got the impression that you persuaded her with some shonky job offer, just to get at me.’
‘That’s bloody unfair. Typical of the way you think about me though.’
‘You haven’t given me much cause to think otherwise, Colin,’ snapped Queenie.
‘Listen, this is not a shonky outfit, even high and mighty Queenie Hanlon must concede that. I needed someone to set up and run the horseriding. Saskia fell into my lap.’ He shrugged and spread his hands again, an easy smile on his face. ‘It suits both of us. After all, blood is thicker . . . eh?’
Queenie shivered at his words — ‘Saskia fell into my lap’. He suddenly seemed like an evil spider about to pounce on an unsuspecting fly. Alarm bells rang in her head. Colin was up to no good — she recognised the signs. Queenie took a step forward and spoke in a harsh low voice. ‘Let’s get one thing straight, Colin. You tried to ruin my life once. I won’t let you try again with my daughter’s life. You cause her one moment of harm and you will wish you’d never been born, brother of mine or not.’
If they’d been alone Colin would have let loose with the verbal bile that was burning in his throat, but instead he stepped backwards, a thin smile appearing around his mouth but not in his eyes. ‘Why, Queenie, Saskia isn’t going to fall on her face or get led astray — she’s your daughter, isn’t she? I’m sure she’s learned well from you.’
‘I bloody well hope so, Colin.’ Queenie turned on her heels and marched into the kitchen, her knees shaking. Why was Colin the only person who could get under her skin and make her so angry and fearful? He had almost destroyed her once but she had beaten him. Now she had the terrible feeling that he wanted to try again.
The Gadens were perched in the kitchen, Greta on Saskia’s lap. They all looked up at Queenie expectantly.
‘Is there blood on the floor?’ grinned Bruce.
Seeing Queenie’s pale face, Ria hurriedly pushed him towards the door. ‘Go and put the fish on the barbecue; keep Colin occupied for a bit.’ As Bruce left, Ria gave Greta a pile of paper napkins. ‘Go put these at everyone’s place on the table, Greta.’
‘Well, Mum, has Colin convinced you this place isn’t growing crops of marijuana or laundering mafia money?’ grinned Saskia, trying to defuse her mother’s anger.
‘What!’ exclaimed Ria, bursting into laughter.
‘That’s not funny, Sas,’ said Queenie. ‘I think Harmony Hill, and you Ria, and Bruce, are great. And I’m happy you like what you’re doing. But believe me, Sas, Colin is up to something. I just don’t trust him. I’m sorry Ria, but I know him too well.’
‘You don’t think your past hurts and present insecurities could be influencing you?’ asked Ria gently.
‘Not to mention a touch of over protective mother it is?’ added Saskia with a smile.
Queenie looked at the impish face of her daughter and the sweet face of Ria. Maybe she was being paranoid and overreacting. She sighed! ‘You could be right. I’m sorry to spoil your lunch, Ria. Let’s forget it and go out and make the best of it,’ she said, struggling to smile.
‘Nothing has been spoiled,’ said Ria, taking Queenie’s arm. ‘Unless Bruce has done something dreadful to our giant snapper.’
The strained atmosphere between Queenie and Colin continued through lunch but was ignored by everyone. Colin went out of his way to be especially charming and funny and no one but Queenie guessed at the bitter anger that was festering beneath his smooth exterior.
As soon as he could, Colin excused himself saying he had a meeting in Surfers Paradise. He thanked the Gadens, waved to Saskia and went to Queenie, giving her a kiss on either cheek European-style. ‘Give my regards to Millie and all. Look after yourself, Queenie . . . Watch your back,’ he said with a wicked grin and a wink at Saskia.
Queenie turned away and didn’t answer. She longed to take refuge in TR’s arms. Normally he would have helped her dismiss the whole episode as trivial and typical Colin and would have made her laugh. But this time Queenie knew that wasn’t going to happen — TR was too wrapped up in himself and Jenni. Queenie suddenly felt she had no sense of humour left, no husband, and a daughter who thought she was being paranoid about a man whom everyone else regarded as a rather harmless an
d charming rogue.
Queenie knew only her work at Tingulla and Cricklewood would see her through this bitter time. Work would be her salvation until the other wrinkles in her life began to smooth out.
Later in the afternoon Queenie said goodbye to the Gadens and said sincerely that she wished she could stay on as a guest.
Ria took her hands and looked into her eyes, seeing the sadness in their green depths. ‘Any time you want, Queenie. You can have total privacy. You need a little meditation time and nurturing, I think.’
‘And a massage, Mum. Ria gives wonderful massages. She fixes my sore back after riding.’
‘And it’s also good for sore spirits and restoring positive energy,’ said Ria softly.
‘I’ll remember that. Keep an eye on my rascal of a daughter, won’t you,’ said Queenie, grateful this warm and caring woman was near to Saskia.
Ria slipped an arm around Saskia’s shoulders. ‘We’ll do that, never fear. Greta tells everyone she has a new sister . . . which has led to some interesting speculation in the village,’ laughed Ria.
Saskia walked to the car with her mother. ‘Thanks for coming up to see me. Even if it started out as an earbashing it’s been lovely to see you. I hope your mind is at rest now, Mum.’
‘In some respects. Just remember I love you, Sas, and I’m always here for you, no matter what.’ They hugged tightly, both close to tears. Queenie got in her car and leaned out the window. ‘Good luck with Toffee, that’s a heck of a horse. If you can get him racing properly I’ll back him all the way home!’
Dingo turned up back at Tingulla from Cricklewood where everything was back to normal and running smoothly. Ernie had gone back to Cricklewood to join Chipper, who looked like unpacking his swag and settling down in one place for a while. With Dingo about Tingulla, TR and Jenni avoided being left alone too much. Jenni had regained her professional demeanour and began her teasing banter with TR again but at times TR caught her looking at him with a wistful expression.
Having a cup of tea with Millie while TR and Jenni were doing their morning exercises, Dingo commented, ‘As soon as Queenie gets back from seeing Sas I’ll be heading back to the west. By crikey, I hope next time I see you things are back to normal. Or as normal as they’re going to get.’
‘Oh, we’ll all get there, don’ worry ’bout that, Dingo. I don’ think Queenie is gonna haul Sas home by the pigtails. Both the properties seem to be goin’ okay and she has these new plans . . . It’s just TR now.’
‘I think he’s made amazing progress. The singing helped his attitude and that’s made a big difference.’
‘I wasn’t thinkin’ of his health. It’s him and Jenni, they’re too friendly to my mind, if you know what I mean.’ She looked at Dingo, seeking some helpful answers.
Dingo downed his cup and reached for his hat off the back of the chair. ‘Don’t look at me, Millie. We blokes aren’t any good at sorting out those kind of matters. Let ’em get on with it, nothing much we can do. If she’s helping him get better that’s good. Until he remembers who he is and who everyone else is and recaptures those feelings, you can’t blame him for just following his instincts.’
‘But it ain’t right, Dingo . . . She’s just a young girl.’
‘And a very pretty one, eh?’ laughed Dingo, pushing back his chair. ‘Stop worrying, Millie, take it as it comes. Ta for the tea. I’m off to the wethers then I’ll be with the studmaster sorting out some of those old rams.’
Queenie drove up to the front entrance of Tingulla and tooted the horn to announce her arrival. Ruthie appeared with a dusting cloth at the front door.
‘Hi, Ruthie. How’s the bride-to-be?’ called Queenie.
Ruthie draped the cloth on her head like a veil, held out the corners of her skirt and did a little dance.
Queenie laughed and took her small bag from the back seat as Millie appeared behind the capering Ruthie. ‘Get on with you, Ruthie,’ scolded Millie with a smile.
Queenie hurried up the steps and gave Millie a hug. ‘So, luv, you look happy. Everything okay with Sas then?’
‘Oh yes. Harmony Hill is a lovely place, run by a sweet couple. Sas is doing very well and is quite happy.’
‘But what?’ prompted Millie seeing a shadow cross Queenie’s face.
‘If it wasn’t for Colin’s and Camboni’s involvement, I’d be quite happy.’ She paused. ‘I saw Colin.’
Millie stopped in the hall and spun around in shock. ‘You did what? How did that go? I bet he hasn’t changed,’ she sniffed.
‘No. Well, he’s added a lot of Italian charm and phoney manners. But I still don’t trust him an inch and it worries me he is so close to Saskia. I still can’t believe it was just a coincidence they ran into one another. I’ve warned Saskia but she thinks I’m overreacting. Being overprotective.’
‘So you should be where Colin’s concerned,’ said Millie, heading upstairs with Queenie’s bag.
‘Hey there. Welcome home.’
Queenie turned to see TR leaning on a crutch and smiling at her.
‘Has the daughter been cut out of the will or is she still in the fold?’ he grinned.
‘Still in the fold, but doing her own thing. She’s set up a wonderful riding school for the guests and she’s even trying to train a racehorse . . . TR, it’s the most magnificent looking animal.’
TR turned towards the verandah, ‘Come and let me sit down and tell me all about it.’
Millie paused at the top of the stairs and, watching Queenie and TR walk slowly together out to the verandah, smiled with satisfaction.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tango was called after dinner and told that the chestnut mare was foaling. Mick and Dennis were watching the mare in the loose box through the screened window. Mick had hoisted Dennis up onto a high-backed stool and he clung to the metal bar across the window in fascination. A shaded light hung above and the stall was filled with deep straw. The mare had been pacing about, her tail raised, frequently looking back at her flanks.
‘How are things looking?’ asked Tango.
‘Too early to tell yet,’ said Mick. The contractions are gettin’ stronger, she lies down and then gets up and paces.’
‘She’s sweating,’ said Dennis in a worried tone.
‘That’s normal. You ever seen a foal born, Denny?’
‘Nope. Never been around at the right time. Is it okay for me to watch?’
Tango smiled at him. ‘You bet. We try to leave the mother alone for as long as possible unless she needs help.’
Two hours passed and Mick brought them all hot mugs of tea as the three men watched the mare strain and grunt. They told Dennis of the history of Sweet William and how they hoped he would now sire a Melbourne Cup winner. As they watched, the mare stood and with a gush her waters broke as she shifted position, lay down and continued her straining.
‘You know, I have a funny feeling about this one. I reckon it’s going to be special,’ said Tango.
‘What are you gonna call it?’ Dennis sensed the excitement of expectation and smiled at Tango.
‘We never name them till we see ’em. Course, they gotta have their registration name an’ stuff. But Tango and TR always git a name for ’em that’s spot on,’ said Mick.
‘Who does this foal belong to, or is it for sale?’ asked Dennis.
‘This one belongs to Guneda. But if it’s a good one we’ll keep it. And like I said, I think this is a special one,’ enthused Tango.
‘Ain’t here yet,’ said Mick, stifling a yawn.
At that moment the angular forelegs of the foal appeared, wrapped in a white film of membrane. A short while later the head appeared, lying along its legs, but then all progress stopped. After some time Tango went quietly in to the mare and waited; then, with her next straining heave, he grasped the forelegs above the fetlocks and pulled downwards, easing the foal from the birth passage. Dennis’s face was full of joy. ‘Wow!’ he breathed.
Tango freed the air passages and
mouth, slipped a flat brown object from the foal’s mouth and stepped away, leaving the mare and foal to separate themselves as nature intended.
He joined Mick and Dennis as the mare whinnied in delight and began licking her foal. Later they watched the foal wobble to its feet and instinctively feel its way along its mother’s flank to find the udder.
‘It’s a beauty,’ whispered Dennis, emotion shining in his eyes.
‘Bloody oath,’ agreed Mick with a big grin.
Tango looked at the tiny foal whose coat had the same red-gold gleam of its mother but had a pure white mane and tail, and on its forehead a small white star.
‘I think a beer’s in order to celebrate,’ declared Tango.
While Mick helped Dennis into his wheelchair, Tango slipped back into the stall and scooped up the brown liverish milt that had been in the foal’s mouth to prevent water entering during birth. He’d never seen one before and he knew according to country legend it was supposed to bring great luck if dried and placed on the roof of the stable. He decided it was an omen.
Stepping out into the dawn light Tango caught up with Mick pushing Dennis’s wheelchair. ‘You remember this night, Denny, I reckon we’ve seen a Melbourne Cup winner born.’ Mick and Dennis nodded. They wouldn’t forget this night.
The following day the vet came and checked Royal Robes and her foal, declaring all was in order and agreeing the little colt had star quality.
With his mind at ease about the foal and Guneda in general, Tango told Mum Ryan he’d be off again.
The old housekeeper looked disappointed. ‘You flit about like a flutterbye; I miss having you and TR about the place. But those boys will keep me company. That young Denny is a nice lad. Starting to come out of his shell now.’
‘Good. I knew you’d start to mother-hen him . . . and, Mum Ryan, its flit by like a butterfly . . . Where’d you get flutterbye from?’
‘From my granny and she’s right, that’s what they do — flutter by you.’
Tango shook his head. ‘I never had a granny to teach me such important facts of life.’
