by Di Morrissey
TR was down at the home paddock leaning on the fence when he saw Snowy making his way towards him. He was carrying a canvas bag, a swag and a stockwhip looped over his shoulder. He raised his hand in greeting.
TR waited till the old man had reached him. ‘Glad to see you back, Snowy. Ernie with you?’
‘Not yet. I left him out there. He’ll be back in a day or so. Gotta bit of thinkin’ to do. He’s learnin’ the old ways and the laws real good. Howa tings here, boss?’
‘Quiet. Queenie’s gone to Sydney. I’m getting about pretty well. I’m feeling a bit useless, bored I suppose. A bit confused about my life here.’
‘You bilong here, no question ‘bout that.’
‘I just don’t feel I fit in, Snowy.’
The old man stared at him. ‘Maybe you need to go walkabout too.’
TR smiled ruefully. ‘And go where? I admit the idea is appealing but I doubt I’d manage too well on my own out in the bush. I’m still a bit wobbly on my pins and frankly, Snowy, I don’t know if I’ll remember my bush skills.’
‘Ah, I wasn’t thinkin’ of you just goin’ bush on yer own, TR. I reckon you should go over there t’see Dingo. Make ’im a big walkabout.’
TR was silent for a moment. ‘I’ll think about it. I can drive a bit now, hop in and I’ll give you a ride back up to the house.’
‘Before we git goin’, TR,’ Snowy took the stockwhip from his shoulder and smoothed it a little and handed it to TR, ‘this fella bin Patrick Hanlon’s best whip. He give him me in his will. I reckon you should take ’im now.’
TR was about to protest, but the look on the old man’s face stopped him. TR looked at the beautifully plaited whip with the TG brand woven into the handle and said warmly, Thank you, Snowy’.
Jenni was waiting for TR when he got back to the house. ‘Hey there! I thought you’d run away from home. Where’ve you been? Don’t overdo the driving, it puts strain on your leg, you know.’
‘I was looking at the big rams and I’ve been thinking about Queenie’s wool scheme. I met up with Snowy, he’s back.’
Jenni patted the cushion beside her on the wicker lounge. ‘Sit down and rest. Are you filling in some of the blanks of running this place? It seems an enormous job, not to mention Cricklewood and Guneda. I’d like to see the stud, do you think we could go and see Tango? It might be good for you to acquaint yourself with all the rest of the background of your life.’
‘I like it here for the moment. It’s les . . . complicated.’ He didn’t want to say it, but without Queenie there, he felt more relaxed. He felt like he was walking a tightrope between the two women when they were both around him.
Jenni rested her hand on his thigh. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Ah, a bit tired.’
‘Want a massage?’ she asked. ‘Guaranteed to relax tired and aching muscles.’
‘Okay. I might go have a shower first.’ He leaned on his cane to get to his feet. He didn’t explain to Jenni he felt more mentally tired than physically tired, but a massage always helped him unwind.
However, lying on the massage table, his face buried in a towel as Jenni worked her fingers into his shoulder muscles, TR couldn’t relax as he normally did. He suddenly felt there was a different energy flowing from Jenni’s hands. Where her strong fingers usually worked firmly and often painfully into the knots and stiffness of his tendons and muscles, now they seemed to stroke and caress. With a pang TR realised just how attached Jenni was to him.
He lay there rigid and unmoving, with a sinking heart, wondering what to do. Jenni was so caring and sweet and there was no denying the bond they shared. It was easy to deal with her because their relationship had been a natural progression. But then there was Queenie — his wife. A beautiful, intelligent, clever woman who loved him deeply and with whom he’d supposedly built a happy life. But that was a past he couldn’t recapture and starting over again seemed impossible.
‘TR, what’s the matter with you? Your back is as hard as a rock,’ admonished Jenni. ‘Come on now, relax.’
TR sat up, clutching the towel draped over him. ‘I can’t.’ He looked at Jenni staring back at him, puzzlement as well as affection in her hazel eyes. ‘I have some thinking to do.’ He struggled from the table and limped from the room. Jenni slowly screwed the top back on the bottle of massage oil. Her hands shook and tears blurred her vision. TR had obviously come to a turning point, but what about her?
Millie carried a tray of corned beef and salad sandwiches and a pot of tea out to TR who was writing a letter on the verandah.
‘There’s only sandwiches for lunch. No one round here wants t’eat and I’m busy,’ said Millie briskly.
‘That’s all right, Millie. I’m not very hungry either.’
Millie looked at him for a second then folded her arms. ‘So what’s botherin’ you then?’
TR gazed at the plump, grey-haired motherly figure. The years were catching up with her. Millie’s light skin was wrinkled but she radiated strength and energy. ‘Sit down, Millie,’ he said gently. ‘You and I are friends, right?’
‘You bet, TR. Since you first come here as a strapping young man. You was a shy young fella but you knew what you wanted. By golly you and them horses, and then Queenie. I’ve looked out for you just as I have for Queenie. Because without you and her bein’ together, neither of you is happy.’
‘I know, you all tell me that . . . about Queenie and me,’ said TR slowly, ‘but it doesn’t mean anything. I mean, I don’t feel anything. Then there’s young Jenni . . . and I’m fond of her . . . which all leaves me feeling a bit confused,’ finished TR lamely, seeing the grim set of Millie’s mouth.
‘Now listen, TR, Jenni is a nice girl. She’s helped you through a tough time, and you is a very handsome bloke. Charmin’ too, when you wanna be. But she is young enough to be your daughter, and I don’t think you should be makin’ a fool of yourself and makin’ one heck of a stupid mistake just ‘cause you ain’t yourself.’
‘So what do I do, Millie? What if I don’t get back to normal? What if my memory doesn’t come back? I’m trying to take this one day at a time, but I tell you, Millie, I don’t think I can go on in this limbo. Trying to live a ghost life. I reckon it’d be less painful for everyone if I cut the ropes and we all started over.’
‘No!’ Millie rose to her feet. ‘I’m not listening to this rubbish talk. You is givin’ up, TR. And you’re wrong, hear? You is dead wrong.’ Millie’s eyes shone with furious tears.
TR reached out and took her coarse, worktoughened hand in his. ‘Millie, I don’t want to upset you. I’m trying to do what’s best for all of us.’
‘That ain’t what’s best,’ muttered Millie stubbornly.
‘You won’t give up on us, will you?’ said TR with a sad smile.
‘No. Queenie’d never forgive me if I let you walk away from her, from your life. There never was two people more happy than you two.’
TR patted her hand. ‘Millie, I am going away, just for a short time. On a walkabout, like Snowy suggested. I think I’ll go and spend some time over there with Dingo.’
Millie stared at him then nodded slowly. ‘Yes, that’d be good. But what about Jenni?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that. We all need some time apart before we make any earth-shattering decisions. Jenni’ll need to find another job. I don’t want to lose touch with her and I want to help her. So it occurred to me, she might be able to work up there where Saskia is. I was just writing to her to see if she’d put in a good word for Jenni with the owners.’ The truth was TR didn’t want to give Jenni up, but the time had come for him to choose between the two women in his life, and he couldn’t do that with them both watching his every move, each asking for something he couldn’t give.
‘What’s Jenni say about this?’ asked Millie.
TR looked sheepish. ‘I haven’t told her yet.’
‘Well you’d better, ‘cause I ain’t doin’ it for you, TR.’ Millie picked up the tea pot.
‘I’ll top this up with hot water. And, TR, I think you’re doin’ the right thing. Going to Dingo.’
TR tried to choose the right moment to speak to Jenni, but she found and confronted him instead. He was sitting in Millie’s old chair near the herb garden in the shade of the peppercorn tree. She moved his cane and perched on the arm of the chair. ‘So, have you finished your thinking?’
‘Yes, I have.’ TR didn’t look at her. ‘Jenni, I’ve come to a decision . . .’
‘You’re going to give me the flick,’ she interjected with a slight grin.
TR smiled at her. ‘Not quite. But I guess you know things have come to a sort of . . . head.’
‘Well, you’re virtually walking on your own. You can have routine treatments and checkups in town now.’
‘There’s no one that will look after me like you, Jenni.’
‘You don’t need looking after, you’re on your own now, TR,’ said Jenni with a flash of her old bossiness.
‘Now that’s the Jenni I know and love . . .bossy and sassy and strong. I reckon these past weeks you’ve gone a bit wimpy on me, Jen,’ TR said lightly. ‘I’ve decided to go and stay with Dingo over in the west for a bit. He’ll toughen me up.’
‘Don’t get too tough,’ said Jenni softly. ‘So my job is over, I’m out of your life now?’
‘No! Not all,’ TR replied. He paused and sighed. ‘I hope you’ll always be part of my life. I just don’t know how I feel about you — about anyone, to tell you the truth,’ TR looked at her with a pleading expression in his deep blue eyes. ‘Please try to understand, Jenni.’
‘This has been a very . . .unusual time for me too, TR. I have always sworn never to get emotionally involved with my patients. Until you came along. I suppose being together so much is part of it,’ said Jenni in a small voice.
‘Jenni, you sweet girl, you shouldn’t get involved with me. I don’t want you to get hurt. This has been more than just a job for you, I realise that. I owe you an enormous debt.’
‘I don’t want you to feel you owe me anything, TR. I want you to listen to your instincts, what you really feel,’ said Jenni, and added defiantly, ‘If you’re brave enough to do that.’
‘And what are your feelings, Jenni?’ asked TR steadily.
‘I think I could love you, TR, but until you are sure about how you feel, I’m not going to let myself go.’
‘Shall we call a truce then? Until I come back from the west?’
Jenni nodded and stuck out her hand. ‘That’s a deal.’ Jenni stood up, forcing a bright smile. ‘But if you fall off another horse over there I’ll be pretty cross with you after all our hard work. I don’t know if you’re ready to tackle riding horses yet.’
‘Don’t worry about it. They ride camels out there.’ They smiled at each other and Jenni kissed him lightly on his cheek, then walked swiftly away.
Chapter Thirty
The yachts slid by in white formation. Sails billowing, they sliced through the dazzling blue water across the harbour towards Middle Head.
‘Has to be Wednesday, there go the solicitors and doctors of Sydney’s yachting set,’ remarked Sarah adjusting her sunglasses.
Queenie lifted her glass of white wine and clinked glasses with Sarah. ‘Here’s to Tingulla Wool and Leather Enterprises, otherwise known as Tingulla Fashions. Sarah, I really appreciate your help with this, but are you sure about being an investor as well?’
‘Hey, that sounds like a moment of doubt. If I didn’t believe in what you’re doing I wouldn’t offer to put up some money too. We’ve known each other too closely too long and I’ve seen you win through time and again under extraordinary circumstances. I’d put my money on you sailing a paper canoe over Niagara Falls. I know it’s a big project and you’re really doing it on your own again, but you’re at the helm so we won’t go under.’
Queenie was touched by Sarah’s words. So many people were putting their faith and trust in her to make Tingulla Fashions a success.
They sipped their wine in the sunshine, the checked tablecloth fluttering in the breeze blowing from the water, which was just a few metres away. Laughter and conversation drifted along the outdoor tables of Doyles waterfront restaurant at Watsons Bay.
‘Wine at lunch, I feel positively decadent,’ sighed Queenie.
‘Here comes some more decadence,’ grinned Sarah as the owner, Peter Doyle, bore down on them with a platter piled with fruits and cakes. ‘The desserts, not Peter, I mean.’
‘Sarah, I’m sure your beautiful companion deserves this extra indulgence. My compliments.’ Peter smiled and put the platter on the table between them.
‘I don’t think I can eat another thing, your seafood salad had half the ocean in it. It was absolutely wonderful,’ enthused Queenie.
‘Thank you, madam!’ He acknowledged the compliment with a slight bow. ‘How was the flounder?’ he asked Sarah.
‘Superb, as always. Peter, this is Queenie Hamilton. From Tingulla near my parents.’
He gallantly kissed Queenie’s hand. ‘Welcome. I guess you don’t get much fresh seafood out there.’
‘No, not fresh. This has been heavenly. And not just the food.’ Queenie waved her arms to take in the restaurant, the view over the bay and the beachside setting itself. ‘No wonder you’re world famous.’
‘So is my restaurant,’ grinned their incorrigible and charming host. ‘Let me send you home with some fresh shrimp, just in off the boat. A little light supper for John and yourselves.’ He moved away, greeting other diners.
‘Well, that takes care of dinner tonight; he is sweet,’ said Sarah. ‘We come here regularly. The kids love it too. This for them is going for fish and chips.’
‘I can’t think of dinner at present. Oh it’s nice to feel so carefree. It’s been so hard lately.’ Queenie’s happy expression faded and Sarah reached out and touched her arm.
‘No moping. This is time out from Tingulla, right?’
‘Well, if you insist.’ Queenie gave a wry smile. ‘But how would you feel if your husband was left at home with a young blonde who has her hands on him all day?’
Sarah laughed. ‘Okay, I take your point. Whinge away.’
‘Oh Sarah, I don’t want to whinge, but sometimes at night in those lonely dark hours, I’m fearful TR and the life we had has slipped away from me.’
‘Hang in there, Queenie. This is TR we’re talking about. He’s special, remember?’
‘I remember all right,’ said Queenie with feeling. ‘But does he?’ Sarah gave Queenie’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
A waiter arrived at their table and handed them a small Styrofoam Esky. ‘Compliments of Mr Doyle.’
‘Ah, the shrimp. Come on, Queenie, let’s settle the bill and go down to Double Bay and window-shop on the way home.’ Sarah pushed back her chair. She knew Queenie would never be her old self until TR was back to normal and she prayed that day was not for off. But perhaps it was an impossible dream. She resolved not to let Queenie get the slightest hint of her doubts.
Queenie spent a few days relaxing then, one sunny afternoon while John, Tim and Pauline were at a football game, she sat down with Sarah and announced that it was time to get down to business.
Over coffee she explained in detail the total concept of Tingulla Fashions. ‘It’s quality fine wool and leather fashions for men and women. I’m trying to break away from the idea too many people still have that wool is for expensive suits or winter jumpers and not much else. The summer-weight wools breathe and adjust naturally to the temperature. They are superb to wear and they look terrific.’ Queenie pulled out of her briefcase a few rough sketches of her designs.
‘Queenie, these are stunning. Europeans would love these,’ said Sarah. ‘My God, this whole project is so exciting! But it’s going to take a lot of work to get it off the ground.’
‘It has good export potential, but above all I want to sell it to Australians. We should all be walking advertisements for wool. We know better than anyone the ben
efits of wool but we’ve been carried away by synthetics.’ Queenie sat back and sipped her coffee.
‘Now, Sarah, this is where you come in. You did such a fabulous job marketing and publicising those rundown terraces we transformed into Heirloom Cottages all those years ago. With your help we started a whole trend in renovating old places and living in the inner city. So would you take this on? For a fee of course.’
‘I’d adore to do it! But let me barter with you — pay me in these clothes, not cash. I’m an investor, remember.’ The two friends laughed and shook hands.
Over the next few days Queenie and Sarah began visiting and talking to fashion manufacturers, knitters, tailors, pattern-makers and sewers, from organised groups to part-time piece workers. Queenie had already done a lot of homework and they quickly honed their list down to the most likely people to employ. A small mill in Victoria had been contracted to spin and weave Tingulla’s wool and the head designer flew up to Sydney to meet Queenie with dye samples of the colours Queenie had chosen. She wanted all the dyes to come from natural sources for their subtlety of shades as well as part of the ‘totally natural’ sales pitch she envisioned.
‘I also want to do a range of very Australian inspired creations,’ Queenie told Sarah as they sat talking over a glass of wine after a long and exhausting day of meetings. ‘I haven’t firmed up this concept yet. I know the colours I want, and that it should be an Australian theme.’
‘It’ll come in time,’ Sarah said reassuringly. ‘It’s all moving along very quickly. I’m astounded at how fast people will move when they’re enthused about something. The response everywhere is wonderful.’
‘We’ve got to work on an initial launch promotion to get us rolling,’ said Queenie. ‘Something really fabulous for the first showing.’
Sarah flipped over pages in her notebook. ‘I’ve been making notes about publicity and I think we should talk to one of the big TV magazine programmes and do a minidocumentary on this whole thing. They could start filming now, follow us all the way through.’
