by Di Morrissey
‘That’s what grannies are for. I wish you’d settle down and start a family yourself. We could do with some youngsters round here.’
‘Make do with Dennis, he’s not even eighteen. It’ll be a while before I find the right girl.’
‘You don’t have to try ’em all out before you choose one,’ called Mum Ryan to Tango as he headed for his suite along the verandah.
Tango laughed but in his heart he wondered if he might have found the right girl after all.
Queenie chose her moment to suggest to TR that they sit on the verandah so she could outline her wool plan to him. She handed him a cup of tea and he smiled at her warmly, a faint hint of amusement in his bright blue eyes.
‘I feel as if I’m a board of investment bankers,’ he grinned.
Queenie returned his smile, a glow lighting up her face. She had always loved discussing things with TR. They’d shared everything and she missed the close communication between them. As always TR listened attentively, asking pertinent questions. Together they went through the structure of Tingulla Wool and Leather Enterprises, its goals, financing, and future function.
‘It’s ridiculous that most of Australian wool is exported offshore to be processed,’ sighed Queenie as they finished their tea.
TR gave her a shrewd glance. ‘You should push the government to set up a super mill. Then we could churn out masses of woolies, like jumpers and blankets, from our raw wool rather than importing back our own wool as processed goods.’
‘I just might do that,’ laughed Queenie. ‘The wool people do their best, but maybe they need someone to head a committee and make a few moves in that direction.’
‘I wouldn’t be game enough to say no to you,’ grinned TR. ‘So whatever you want me to do, just say.’
‘Oh, I will. And I welcome any input. This is a Tingulla enterprise.’ Although TR was unaware of their past closeness, this talk had brought them closer and it gave Queenie a renewed sense of hope and excitement that they could recover the lost ground between them. But the feeling didn’t last long. Queenie looked up with a flash of annoyance to see Jenni walking along the verandah towards them carrying a glass of water.
TR smiled, ‘Pill time, I can tell’.
Jenni was wearing a short skirt and stretch-knit T-shirt, her blonde hair tied up in two bunches above each ear. She looked pert and sexy in a little girl sort of a way. She handed TR the water and two capsules in a small plastic cup. ‘Excuse me, TR, but it’s time for your massage and we have a new hurdle today.’
TR swallowed the pills. ‘God, what fresh hell have you cooked up now?’ he asked, smiling at her.
Queenie glanced at them both, feeling like she was suddenly invisible. ‘I’ll leave you to it. See you later.’ She walked angrily away.
‘What are we doing then?’ persisted TR, anxious for any new challenge that helped him progress.
‘Tackling the stairs.’
‘Oh, I see. Righto, you’re the boss.’
‘And depending on how we go this week, we might ditch the crutches and use just a cane.’ TR sighed. ‘Then I’ll only look like a semiinvalid.’
‘Now TR,’ admonished Jenni, ‘I thought you’d be pleased. Come on, back to work.’ She held out her hands; TR grasped them and allowed her to pull him out of the chair. He reached for his crutches and followed her inside. Jenni looked over her shoulder. ‘We’ll do some limbering exercises first,’ she said and smiled warmly.
Queenie shut the door of her office and resisted the impulse to kick the wastepaper basket across the room. Seeing TR and Jenni together reinforced the bond they shared and the gap between him and herself. Jenni was very professional with TR — in front of Queenie anyway — so she couldn’t criticise her for any breach of ethics. But the confident young woman made Queenie feel insecure. Jenni exuded health and energy and a fresh sexiness that threatened Queenie’s sense of her own femininity and attractiveness. TR, who had always sworn undying love, had rejected her. No matter what reasons there were for this, it didn’t make the pain any less and she felt herself sinking into depression again.
She laughed bitterly to herself. All those people who thought Queenie Hamilton had it all and was unconquerable wouldn’t believe how she was feeling now. She couldn’t believe it herself. ‘Oh TR, please come back to me,’ she murmured aloud. ‘Until you do, neither of us will be whole again.’
Several hours later there was a tap at Queenie’s door. She put down her pen and rubbed her eyes. ‘Come in,’ she called, thinking it was Millie with a welcome cup of tea.
Tea had arrived but it was Tango who came in with the tray, kicking the door shut behind him. Tea’s served, madame.’
‘Tango! What a glorious surprise!’ As he slid the tray on her desk Queenie rushed around to give him a hug. She held him tightly. ‘Oh, you don’t know how pleased I am to see you.’
Tango pulled away and gazed into Queenie’s strained face and sad eyes. ‘Yes I do. That’s why I came.’
Queenie pushed a lock of hair back from his forehead. ‘You knew I was down, didn’t you?’
‘I figured you might like to dump your feelings on me. I know you used to share stuff with Sas but she’s got her own thing going. And, well, for a whole lot of reasons, even with my youthful male perspective, I thought you might like to talk or just have a shoulder to cry on, or a head to box. Whatever.’
Queenie felt tears well in her eyes as she looked up into his face, the same azure blue eyes as TR’s, the same lopsided grin. But Tango had a lot of Queenie’s spirit in him and she knew they communicated on some inner level without always needing words. The son she’d been forced to give up as a baby had been returned to her and now she saw him as a man.
‘I always thought you’d be my boy, I could see myself telling you how to brush your teeth when you were forty. But now I see you as my best bloke friend. And I have this feeling no matter what I do you’ll be there to help me along.’
‘That’s always been the case, Mum,’ he said softly.
‘Oh, I know,’ said Queenie brushing away a tear, ‘but I always thought of you as my child, that I had to look after you. Now I feel you can look after me. Oh gosh, does that make me sound like an old lady? I’m feeling so wretched. I’m losing my looks, I feel rejected, I feel threatened, I feel so . . . unwanted.’
‘You are in a bad way,’ said Tango as he poured the tea and Queenie slumped onto the leather sofa.
‘Do you suppose I’m having a midlife crisis?’ asked Queenie glumly.
‘I dunno. But there are perfectly good reasons for you to feel the way you do.’
‘I keep telling myself that, but it doesn’t make me feel any better,’ sighed Queenie, sipping the tea.
‘Look, we all know why TR isn’t relating to you — you present a challenge and a threat to him.’
‘How? I’ve tried to be nonjudgemental and not to put any pressure on him,’ said Queenie despairingly.
‘But the pressure is still there. You come with the baggage of a past together that he doesn’t remember. That sets up expectations he doesn’t know how to handle.’
‘Whereas Jenni is unencumbered,’ said Queenie harshly.
‘Yes. He remembers everything about their relationship, it’s just started. She has been there for him and with him during some tough times, he’s exposed himself to her in a way he wouldn’t want you or any of the family to see. He’s wept, he’s got angry, he’s fallen over, and she’s held him up — physically and emotionally. It’s natural there should be a very close bond between them.’
‘It doesn’t stop it hurting me though,’ added Queenie in a small voice.
Tango reached out and touched Queenie’s knee. ‘But you can’t fight it either, Mum. The more you try to move close to TR the further away you’re pushing him.’
‘So what do I do then? Nothing? Just stand back and watch him fall in love with a woman young enough to be his daughter. Where does that leave me?’ Tears splashed down her face.
‘Great,’ mocked Queenie. ‘Go on. Is this supposed to be making me feel better?’
Tango tried to smile. ‘Listen, Mum, let me tell you how to handle this from the male’s point of view. I speak from vast experience here of course,’ he grinned.
‘So what do I do?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing? Just stand back and watch Jenni entice TR into her own life?’
‘Don’t give Jenni unscrupulous motives, Mum, she’s not a scheming girl.’
‘She must be something, now even you’re defending her!’ Queenie flared.
‘Settle down, Mum,’ said Tango patiently. And suddenly Queenie laughed ruefully. Here was Tango being the placating adult to a recalcitrant child. Tango continued, ‘Like I said, you just get on with your life and take it one day at a time and for once let matters take their own course. You’re going to have to trust the angels on this one. If you and TR are meant to be, you will be. If it means you both start over again, you’ll have to slowly rebuild what you had. If it means you both start a new life apart, then that’s what has to be.’
‘No, I won’t accept that.’
‘What choice do you have, Mum?’ asked Tango gently. ‘You can’t force TR to love you.’
Queenie pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. ‘You’re right I suppose. Not that I like it. I tell you what though, if those two really did get together, I’d feel pretty insecure if I were them. What if TR woke up one morning in bed with Jenni and his memory came back? What then? You know it could happen any time.’
‘Then I wouldn’t want to be in either of their shoes,’ said Tango with a grin. ‘So don’t worry about it. Fate will sort it out. Move ahead with your wool project. It’s all looking very good, I hear.’
‘Yes, the man I talked to about the fellmongery tried his technique out on some of the merino hides and it works brilliantly — no chemicals, no pollutants. Come and I’ll show you the skins. It’d make a fabulous jacket for you.’
They stood and Queenie smiled at Tango. Thank you, darling. I feel much better. How come you’re such a wise boy?’
Tango hugged her. ‘Because you’re the mother that I thought I’d lost and I love you very much and I’d kill for you if it would make you happy.’
Queenie stroked his face. ‘I don’t deserve you.’
‘Oh yes, you do.’ Tango took her hand. ‘Show me the makings of this flash new jacket I’m going to get.’
She linked her arm through his and chatted eagerly about the new safe technique for getting the wool off the sheepskin hides. Tango glanced over his shoulder and saw Millie hovering in a doorway. He gave her a swift smile and a wink and Millie sighed with relief, but Tango was still disturbed.
TR tackled the grand cedar staircase. Jenni stood close by giving advice and encouragement as he hauled himself up the stairs, using the broad bannister and his newly acquired walking cane as support. He began to get the hang of lifting each leg up a step. Jenni stood behind him on the step below to give him a feeling of security.
TR was sweating with exertion and nerves. But he made it to the landing and stood motionless, holding on with both hands, aware his knees were shaking.
‘Take a deep breath or two, TR. If you want to, sit on the next stair for a minute,’ she advised.
TR sat on the bottom step of the curving section of the staircase that led to the upper floor. Jenni sat beside him and gazed at the portraits of Rose and Patrick Hanlon. ‘They look like nice people.’
TR looked at the portraits and although they were strangers to him, for a moment he had a feeling of great warmth, as if he had been close to them. ‘Yes, they do, don’t they.’
‘Did you know them?’ asked Jenni.
‘I think so,’ said TR slowly. ‘I can’t remember anything, my mind is telling me nothing; but my body is telling me yes, I knew and liked them. I can’t explain it really.’ He rose painfully to his feet. ‘I’m ready for the final ascent.’
Slowly TR made it to the top and looked along the length of the corridor. ‘Go and explore,’ suggested Jenni. ‘It’s your home. I’ll wait here. Don’t trip on the rugs.’ Jenni began looking at the grouped family photographs along the wall as TR limped along the hall.
He hesitated, then opened doors, peering into strange bedrooms. With a pang, he opened the door to what he realised was the master bedroom, the room he’d shared with Queenie. He went inside. The French doors leading to the verandah stood open, the white antique lace curtains billowing lightly in the breeze. A vase of flowers stood on a small table beside a pile of books and silver-framed photographs of Queenie, TR, Tango and Saskia. He looked at the bed where they must have made love. He turned away and stepped to the door of the shared dressing room. Clothes that must be his hung opposite Queenie’s. TR suddenly felt he was suffocating and turned away quickly, to find Jenni standing by the bed watching him.
He walked to her and looked into her eyes. Seeing his confused expression, she reached out and touched his face. TR covered her small hand with his, pressing it to his cheek, closing his eyes as if in pain. Jenni’s heart ached for him and she slipped her arm about his shoulders and drew him to her. A muffled sigh that could have been a sob escaped him and he leaned against Jenni, causing her to stumble backwards, and they both fell onto the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. TR lifted his head and gazed into Jenni’s eyes, then in a sudden surge of passion began kissing her wildly, pressing her body beneath his. Jenni kissed him back, clutching him, her passion mounting and matching his. TR caressed her pert small breasts, finding her nipples hard and pointed. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he flung a leg across Jenni’s thighs. A sudden searing pain made him catch his breath and with a jolt he realised what he was doing. Lifting his lips from hers, he said huskily, ‘No’.
Jenni kept her arms around him. ‘It’s okay, TR.’
‘No. This isn’t right. You’re sweet, Jenni, but I . . .’ TR was confused, unsure of what his real feelings were. He depended on Jenni; he felt he knew her better than anyone else — she was the only person he really felt comfortable with. But she was young enough to be his daughter. And what would this do to Queenie? Even if she never knew, he would always have to address this act of betrayal and, no matter what the circumstances, or what his own feelings were, it was wrong.
He struggled to sit up. ‘I’m sorry, Jenni. This just isn’t the right time . . . or place.’ He touched her face gently and left the room.
At the end of the hall was the guest suite Jenni was using. TR gazed sadly at her clothes flung across a chair, paused, then left the room, making his way laboriously back down the hall.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs Millie appeared and gave him a penetrating look. ‘Anything seem familiar?’ she asked.
‘No. I feel like a Peeping Tom.’ TR turned on his heel and headed for his verandah room.
Dinner was a strained affair with Dingo and Tango trying to keep the conversation going with stories of their various adventures in the bush. Dingo laughed as Tango finished the story of his disastrous rodeo riding career.
‘I guess I’ll leave the rodeo records to Dad,’ Tango grinned.
Dingo announced he’d be off in the morning and so Queenie suggested they have a glass of best Para port to toast Din
go for his help and to wish him a safe journey. In the confusion of Jenni taking away the plates and Millie bringing in the coffee, Tango rose. ‘I’ll get the port,’ he said. ‘Where is it?’
‘In there,’ said TR pointing to the door at the bottom of the sideboard.
‘Right.’ Tango bent down and took out the old bottle of port. ‘Pass the glasses, Mum.’
But Queenie was staring at TR. ‘How did you know the special port was there? We normally drink decanted port from the sideboard.’
TR suddenly realised what he’d said. He looked confused. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t think, it just came out.’ Silence fell and everyone looked at TR. ‘Well stop looking at me like I’m doing party tricks!’ he said trying to joke, but his voice trembled.
‘All right, pour the bloody port,’ said Dingo and slowly conversation resumed. But Jenni kept casting anxious glances at TR.
TR caught her eye and gave her a querying look.
She leaned towards him and said in a low voice, ‘Do you feel all right? Any headaches or anything?’
He shook his head and tried to turn away but Jenni persisted. ‘Are you sure, this could be significant.’
‘What? Knowing where a bottle of port is kept? For Chrissake, Jenni, it’s no big deal.’
‘It could be important, TR. It shows that all your memories are still there, you just don’t know how to retrieve them. Perhaps if we . . .’
TR’s patience snapped. ‘Give it a rest, Jenni. You think I’m going to be cured between the dessert and the port, just like that!’ He snapped his fingers at her and Jenni recoiled in distress.
‘TR, I’m just trying to help . . .’ she began.
‘I’m tired of being helped!’ snapped TR and the table fell silent as everyone stared at them. ‘And I thought you’d be the last person to push me into getting my memory back!’
‘TR, that’s not fair . . .’ Jenni looked like she was about to burst into tears. She pushed back her chair and, mumbling an apology, fled from the table.
