‘She’s very lucky to be here. I’d be grateful if I were you,’ a doctor on the run had thrown across a busy shoulder.
Her mother regained consciousness with no permanent brain damage, but there was still the quadriplegia to deal with. Six months of intensive therapy followed, with Bella or Frank always by her side. After a few months, and at the urging of her father, Bella found herself a job in the public-relations firm with the help of glowing references from David Neille.
So that just left the heartache to deal with.
She felt like she’d lost everything except her mother. After Will had turned away from her at Patty’s funeral, she hadn’t seen him again. Aunty Maggie said he’d gone back up into the mountains, seeking solace on his station. And there he had stayed, working himself into the ground.
Bella couldn’t understand it. Why didn’t Will come to share in the grief they both felt so badly, so deeply? He’d sat by her bedside while she was unconscious, hadn’t he? She’d tried ringing him after the funeral – at home up on the station and on his mobile. But the calls went to voicemail, and after leaving a barrage of messages that were never returned, she gave up.
She’d considered driving up to the station to confront him, or at least getting someone to drive her – the thought of getting behind the wheel was a daunting one. But then the memories of Will’s grim and dispassionate face deliberately turning from her, towards Prowsy, appeared before her eyes, and she knew she couldn’t deal with another rejection. He hadn’t acknowledged her once at the funeral. Not at the church, nor even at the wake where, with Macca, Will had got so drunk a grim Bryce McDonald had carted them both away.
Will’s parents weren’t coping either, Maggie had informed her. Rory and Helen had just upped and left their station at Tindarra. Packed up and walked out, not able to face being surrounded by the memories of their beloved daughter, leaving the property for Will to manage. They bought a small house in Burrindal and only left town to travel to the larger Narree for supplies. Apparently they didn’t talk with the locals much anymore, stonewalling any attempts to drag them from their safe four walls. Although, Bella knew from her father, the couple made an uncomfortable, stilted phone call to intensive care at the Alfred Hospital every Sunday night. She had to give them credit for that. Still, it was obvious to all in the district that the once-vibrant O’Haras were now a family of silence, existing within mountains of pain.
Bella tried to console herself with the thought that at least she was trying to live life, amid the grief. Even though she felt like a wooden marionette, at least she was trying to be normal. She just had to deal with survivor’s guilt. Well, that’s what her therapist called it. Post-traumatic stress and depression were the other buzz words thrown around. She’d given up on the counselling, figuring long walks beside the Yarra River would do more for her than spending hours with someone who breathed garlic fumes and asked inane questions. How the hell could she not feel stress and depression after losing her best mate and the man she loved, while her mother was fighting for life? How the hell could she not feel guilty walking away virtually scot-free from an accident in which everyone else was either maimed or killed?
Maggie had told her, time was the healer. She just had to hold on and believe in that.
As her mother got better, Bella set about rebuilding her life, brick by brick, wall by wall. It wasn’t the life she’d had, the hell-raising run of the bush, but at least it was a life. So when her parents finally drove home six months later, they left their beloved daughter behind in Melbourne. There was no going back. She knew she couldn’t bare the pain of the old familiar surroundings, all the reminders of the way her life had been.
It had been a dreary Friday afternoon in Melbourne, around twelve months after the accident, when Will had turned up at Caro’s door. He’d hunkered down on the doorstep, hat tipped over his eyes, waiting for someone to arrive home from work.
Caro was the first to appear.
‘What are you doing here?’ she’d uttered, shocked to find him sitting there. ‘I thought you’d buried yourself at Tindarra, never to be seen or heard of again?’
‘I’m here to see Bella.’
‘I don’t think she’ll want to see you.’
‘I can try, can’t I?’
‘Listen, if you’re here to hurt her, you can get back in that ute and piss off. She’s finally getting on her feet and she doesn’t need this to set her back.’
Will sighed as he stood up from the doorstep, uncurling himself slowly. ‘I’m not here to hurt her. I just want to talk to her, okay?’
‘Well, she won’t be back for another hour. It takes her a while to get home from work on the train. You’d better come in and have a cuppa. I’ll give Trin a ring and let him know you’re here for the weekend.’
‘Caro, don’t. I’m only here to see Bella and then I’m off home. I need to be back to bale my lucerne tomorrow night. It’s a quick trip, but a cuppa would be good.’ He paused as she led the way through the door, grabbing at her arm to force her to stop. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt her, Caro.’ He stood still a moment, trying to find the right words. ‘I just dug myself into grief. I couldn’t see a way out, can barely see it now, but I felt I owed her an explanation.’
‘You bloody well do. The poor girl has been to hell and back. Granted you’re not all to blame but you can stand up and take a slice of the pie. Come in and have a cuppa, but I’ll warn you, I’m not sure what kind of reception you’ll get from Bella.’
Bella arrived a little while later and was stunned to see the LandCruiser ute parked outside the block of flats that she and Caro called home. What did he want? Why was he here? Why now, just when things were starting to feel normal again? She battled the urge simply to turn and run away; forced her high-heeled shoes to walk down that path to the front door; forced her hand to turn the knob. The first thing she saw was the hat placed upright on a pair of well-worn and wrinkled R.M. Williams boots, polished to a shining hue. She sat down on the floor, right beside the boots and hat, quelling the rush of vomit threatening to erupt from her stomach. She could smell the musty aroma of the bush on the hat, the rich leather treatment on the boots. A slight scent of wattle was in the air.
They couldn’t see her from the kitchen, but Bella could hear the slow and deep rumble of his voice. She had to do this, deal with him now he was here. Gulping down the bile in her mouth, Bella picked herself up off the floor. Straightening her skirt, she flung back her shoulders and walked head up high into the kitchen.
The first sight of him hit every nerve ending. His likeness to his sister made her stagger in the doorway. She grasped the doorframe and steadied herself before again forcing her legs to move. She walked in and sat down as far from him as she could, which wasn’t very far in the tiny kitchen.
Caro mumbled something about getting in the washing and disappeared out the door.
‘Bella.’ Will stared in shock at the girl he thought he’d known so well. Gone was the voluptuous figure, in its place a rack of bones. The bright eyes were dulled with pain, and the bouncing ringlets were flattened and sleek, imprisoned in a rigid clasp behind her long and stiff neck.
‘Will,’ she managed to return.
A truck roared down the road, air brakes screeching as it changed lanes among the dodging traffic outside.
He moved his sock-covered feet uncomfortably and leaned back on his chair. Bella stared at the table. She would not look at him. She. Would. Not. But her eyes betrayed her and she felt them lift. Damn the man.
‘I’ve come to say . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I . . .’ He broke off, shifting uncomfortably. Dimples flickered as a grim smile touched his face. ‘I just couldn’t handle it. Can’t handle it,’ he corrected himself. ‘Maggie said I needed to talk to you. I don’t know what to say. How to say sorry. How to make it up to you.’
Bella sat there numb. She couldn’t help him out. She felt betrayed and just so plain mad at him, she want
ed to spit in his face. A face that reminded her so much of what they’d both lost – those dimples, chocolate-brown eyes, that wicked O’Hara grin.
‘Just go please, Will. I can’t help you. I’m barely able to help myself.’ She felt tears start to well and she angrily brushed them away. She would not show weakness.
‘But, Bella, I’m here to help, I want you to come—’
‘Just go, damn you. Go away.’ Her quiet voice sounded like a yell even to her own ears. She forced her eyes back down to the table, terrified he’d see her need for him. Terrified her eyes would betray her again.
Will stood and looked down at the girl he had loved, still loved, not knowing what to do.
‘Just go, Will,’ she said again quietly, staring intently at the laminex grains embedded in the tabletop. Her fingers came up to search for a pattern in the swirling plastic lines.
He turned and walked down the short hall. Bella heard him pause to pick up his hat and pull on his boots before he walked out the front door, slamming the screen as he went. The only thing that remained was the sniff of wattle floating on city air.
Bella just sat and played with the grains of the table, tracing them to and fro. She heard Will call out a goodbye to Caro and the soft murmur of their voices outside. Then came the rumble of the ute as it cranked up and slowly pulled away.
Caro walked back in and placed a hand on Bella’s shoulder.
‘Are you okay?’ Her voice was soft.
Bella reached up and patted the fine, manicured fingers. ‘Maybe.’
‘You’ll be right, sweetie. Like Maggie said, it just takes time,’ said Caro as she swung around to sit in the next chair. ‘Do you think you did the right thing, sending him away?’
‘I don’t know.’ Bella finally looked up and her friend was shocked at the pain in her eyes, by the tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘I don’t know,’ she repeated as her gaze moved to look out the kitchen window at the brick wall of the high-rise flats next door. ‘I can’t go back yet.’
And now here she was heading towards the mountains, towards her past, and it was all coming rushing back to meet her, damn it. Even though she’d driven this way plenty of times in the past eight years, they had been fleeting visits. A night here, a night there – like air kisses thrown in the direction of an acquaintance’s cheek, a brief disturbance meaning little. Her life and love had been in Melbourne.
It had never felt like this.
In the early-morning light, driving across the lush irrigated plains of Narree, it felt disturbingly like Patty was sitting beside her, watching the mountains coming closer. It was almost like, together, they were being welcomed home. And with those feelings came a tumult of emotions. Tomorrow she would drive into those hills and face the memories embedded there. And the man who’d helped shape them.
Bella could feel tendrils of nervousness start to creep around inside her body. She clamped down on any thoughts straying in Will O’Hara’s direction and concentrated on the road leading to her old home. She didn’t need any more complications.
The first glimmers of dawn were spiking the sky to the east. Outside the air was still and Bella could see lights popping up across the paddocks as slowly but surely more farmers made their way to milk their cows. The CD in the car had ground to a halt and the local ABC radio had taken its place. The weatherman was spruiking of a sunny and warm weekend ahead in East Gippsland. Melbourne had been surprised by some decent showers overnight. Good. She hoped Warren had been drenched.
She’d gone to the rodeo with Caro in the end. And her friend had used the halfway interlude to tell her chief bridesmaid that she would be riding side-saddle at the wedding that weekend.
‘What? Why did you wait until three days before to tell me? I’ve never ridden side-saddle! Hell, I’m not even sure I can ride astride anymore!’
Caroline held out her hands in a plea. ‘You know me – I love anything that sounds romantic. Come on, Bella, it’s my dream.’
Bella sighed. A dream. Damn it. Bella knew all about dreams – and how they could be busted, like a balloon landing on a pin. She didn’t want to be the pin-head who busted someone else’s dream.
‘Jeez, Caro . . . okay, it’s your wedding. I suppose a girl should have what she wants on her big day. But I swear I won’t be responsible for what happens!’
Bella’s reward for succumbing was Brooks and Dunn roaring from the overhead speakers at the Rod Laver Arena. A cowboy dressed in a flamboyant orange-and-red chequered shirt erupted into the ring clinging with every sinew to the back of a bucking ebony horse.
The rodeo finished at ten, and after seeing Caro off, Bella ran to the toilets for a quick change from her jeans to a cocktail dress. She couldn’t believe she’d opened her big mouth and offered to meet Warren afterwards. So much for taking a stand and doing what she wanted to do. But there was something about that hang-dog look he used when he couldn’t get his own way that got to her. It made her feel annoyed but then guilty at the same time. Like, somehow it was all her fault. So she’d capitulated and offered the compromise, and now it was a bit late for regrets. He was expecting her.
She bolted from the loos, snagged a taxi and raced to the Crown Casino, where she found a disgruntled Warren waiting for her at the brilliantly lit main entrance.
‘You’re late!’ he snapped. ‘Most of the guests are already here.’ He grasped her elbow and pushed her along. He was gripping the sensitive skin inside her arm so hard, she knew there’d be bruises in the morning. She tried to shake free, but Warren was having none of it.
Lined up just inside a doorway, and overseen by hulking black-clad security men, was a crowd of elegant people in a long snaking queue. Warren jostled her into line behind the rest of the wives, partners and escorts waiting to be introduced to the new CEO.
She turned to try to spy the man whom all the fuss was about. From a distance he seemed short. Very, very short. It took a while, but finally she and Warren made it to the receiving party at the main doorway. Bella said a polite hello to Warren’s boss and his wife before turning towards the new bloke.
What she saw took her breath away.
Standing before her was a ghost from her past. A man she had last seen fleeing the Nunkeri Muster all those years ago – with his pants ripped to near shreds, his face a bloodied mess, his Cuban heels taking flight after she and Patty had whipped his hide.
Here he was in front of her, solicitous and saying how do you do, in a voice that still spat plums so quickly you couldn’t keep up with the drivel. ‘Oh Warren, what a beautiful partner you have here,’ he grovelled as he leaned to kiss her hand, eyeing off the cleavage passing right in front of his nose.
She snatched her hand away so fast Eddie Murray’s bulging eyes nearly popped from their sockets.
‘You’re not touching my hand, you lecherous prick!’
Warren stepped forward, shocked. ‘Bella! You can’t say that,’ he stuttered, sounding like a parent chastising a wayward child. ‘Now apologise to Mr Murray.’
‘I will not. Don’t you remember me, you arrogant dog turd?’
Eddie took in the ravishing creature in front of him; her stunning eyes spat luminous blue sparks, while the voluptuous breasts heaved in agitation. She was all curves and luscious lines, far too good for that weasel Warren standing indignant by her side. His quick mind flicked through his past liaisons. He was sure he would have remembered if he’d met this provocative creature.
‘The Nunkeri Muster? Eight years ago?’ Bella’s voice rang out, causing a series of uneasy whispers to flow down the line. ‘My friend Patty and I whipped your shiny white arse.’
Eddie’s face turned ashen then red and his little body started to huff and puff. Seeing his distress, a hovering security guard stepped in and hustled Warren and Bella on. They found a quiet corner, where Bella sat down before her legs collapsed.
Immediately Warren swung into attack. ‘What was the meaning of that? You’ve gone and shot down any chance I had of a pro
motion. Christ almighty, I nearly had it in the bag. I was this close.’ He pinched his fingers together in front of her face. ‘I’ve been working on fucking Murray for weeks. What has got into you lately? I thought you were going to hit that poor man!’
‘Poor man!’ screeched Bella. Warren flung a hand across her mouth.
‘Christ, not so loud!’ Spittle flew from his lips. ‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage for one night?’
Bella took a moment to calm herself. Breathe deeply. Quietly and precisely she tried to explain.
‘That. Man. Tried. To. Rape Me. If it wasn’t for Patty he would have.’
‘Well, you were both probably asking for it.’
‘WHAT?’ screeched Bella again, now completely oblivious to the scene they were causing. Warren sat down beside her and clamped a hand on her shoulder.
‘This Patty you were so fond of sounds like a fucking drunken idiot. It’s girls like her who give men the wrong idea, then cry rape. She was a bad influence. She was probably giving him the come on and you obviously got in the way.’
Bella was speechless.
‘And the damage you have just done to my career! I’ve spent weeks wining and dining Murray in preparation and you have just gone and . . .’
His mouth was moving up and down, forming and spitting words she no longer wished to hear. Patty a bad influence? Rape a come-on? He had to be joking, right?
Wrong.
Shaking off the hand that was still attached, lead-like, to her shoulder, she stood and smoothed her dress. She looked down at the man whom she had thought she would marry, and broke into his tirade. ‘Patty was one of the best people you could ever meet. She stood up for what she believed in and those she loved.’ Bella stopped and took a gulp of air. ‘And she put the people she loved first. Not like you. You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Warren. It will come back to haunt you. I was the one being attacked by that animal over there, and Patty saved me.’
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