Red Sand Sunrise

by Fiona McArthur

  ‘Forgive me, Callie. We’ll catch up before you go back to Sydney.’

  Lex steered Callie away through the throng. ‘I’m sorry about that. Mother can be very single-minded.’

  Callie had heard more than once that he could be too. Not her kind of man. She winced at the thought. But then, Kurt apparently wasn’t her type of man either. Neither was Bennet from her youth.

  Bennet wasn’t here, but she wasn’t going to dwell on a disappointment she really had no right to feel. It was bad enough that she had to lie to those who asked and say her husband hadn’t been able to make it.

  She just wanted this day to be over. Callie cast one last glance around for Eve before the Lex Express directed her through the doorway and towards the ladies’ lounge.

  THREE

  Back in the bar, Eve took the offered glass and, forgetting where she was, lifted the iciness to her cheek, leaned against it, and sighed at the bliss. The fact that she hadn’t slept the night before had begun to take its toll. She allowed her stinging eyelids to close for a long moment. Ah. Sleeeeep.

  Then her eyes snapped open. ‘Sorry. Nearly dropped off there. And thank you.’ She inclined her head towards the drink. Wicked grey eyes watched and waited for her attention to return to him. How young was this guy? She felt like she was a hundred years older than him.

  ‘I’m that exciting then. You just go to sleep in my presence.’

  ‘Yep. No offence.’ Eve glanced at the drink. ‘Non-alcoholic?’

  ‘Afraid so.’

  ‘Excellent. I’m not much of a morning drinker.’ Eve returned his engaging smile, but players had never really done it for her – let alone ones only a few years out of high school.

  ‘Henry McKay.’ He held out his hand and Eve put her free one in his and tried not to laugh as he squeezed her fingers suggestively. ‘Of course, everyone knows who you are. We just didn’t know you’d be tall, blonde and gorgeous.’

  Oh, brother. Well, he got the first two right. ‘Should you really be flirting with me at my father’s funeral?’

  Henry smiled. ‘You know what they say. Everyone flirts at funerals.’

  ‘Is that so?’ she said coolly.

  He wasn’t put out at all. ‘I’m just teasing. And I am truly sorry about your loss. Your dad was a great bloke. He was a bit of a hero of mine.’

  Uh-oh. This Henry guy was anything but heroic. Amusing, definitely, and as smooth as Eve was not. She had never thought of her dad as a player, just blinded by her mum in a weak moment. Maybe that wasn’t true. ‘For all the right reasons, I hope?’

  An unexpected seriousness crossed Henry’s face. ‘Absolutely.’ He gave a determined nod of the head. ‘Loved by all.’

  ‘Okay, then.’ Surprised at how relieved she felt, Eve relaxed. Amazing how you could build up someone you didn’t know in your imagination, and now that her dad was gone she didn’t really want to tarnish that image. ‘Tell me about other ways to pick a good pub.’

  Henry brought his head closer as if to impart a state secret. ‘Icy cold beer.’

  ‘And that’s all?’

  ‘Well, complimentary locals are an added bonus.’

  ‘Wow. Do you have shares in the pub or are you trying to sell it to me?’

  ‘Neither. We sold it to your dad before I was born. It’s worth a mint now; it has the only liquor licence for 500 kilometres.’

  When she didn’t look impressed, he battled on. ‘So what do you do, Enticing Eve?’

  ‘I’m a midwife, Hotshot Henry. What do you do?’

  ‘As little work and as much fun as possible. So Duncan had two daughters in the medical profession?’

  ‘Three. My sister’s an obstetrician.’

  ‘Really?’ He spluttered back a laugh and, with difficulty, pulled himself together.

  Something had mightily amused Henry, but Eve was distracted by the sight of her new sister being maneuvered out the doorway by a stern-faced giant. She forgot to ask why he laughed because she was confronted with a different curiosity.

  ‘And who’s the hulk who just left the room with Callie? He local?’

  Henry turned his head as the couple disappeared, and grimaced. Eve waited expectantly. Obviously he was not Henry’s favourite person.

  ‘Catch of the shire,’ he said dryly with a tiny shrug. ‘My big brother, Lex. Managing director of McKay Holdings.’

  ‘Whatever that is,’ Eve murmured, and Henry’s smile flashed again. A naughty boy’s grin.

  ‘I like you.’

  Eve had to smile back. ‘I like you too, but I think I’ll go find Callie now. Nice talking to you, Henry.’

  He winked, and lightly touched his finger to her nose. ‘You’ll be seeing me.’

  ‘Oh, brother,’ Eve muttered under her breath. She pinned a subdued smile on her face and went looking for Callie and Sylvia among the throng. It was impressive that so many people from around these parts could appear in the same place. And that they thought a toast to her dad was the perfect reason to drink at eleven in the morning.

  She saw Callie first. Then Sylvia. Both sat with backs straight on a low couch, their faces shining pale and exhausted even in the dim light of the back room. The black-suited minister rose from beside them and created a space for the next person who wanted to offer commiserations.

  Eve felt the urge to gather them both up and hide them for ten minutes so they could catch their breath. Remembering her mother’s wake, she knew there would be enough time after the funeral for emptiness so instead she went across to them and waited for their quiet conversation to finish.

  ‘Hello, you two. It’s a crush out there.’

  ‘Sit by me.’ Sylvia patted the lounge just vacated by the minister. Unconsciously Eve glanced over her shoulder to make sure there wasn’t a more interesting party behind her.

  Sylvia smiled with genuine warmth. ‘Yes, you! Of course you, Eve.’

  She patted the seat again and Eve eased herself self-consciously onto the low couch and tried to tuck in her long legs so as not to trip up the passing traffic. Both Sylvia and Callie smiled down at Eve’s feet and she realised they were looking at the purple glitter on her toenails. Maybe she should have worn closed-toe shoes to a funeral?

  ‘You have our father’s height,’ Callie said into the awkward pause.

  ‘Nearly all of it, apparently,’ Eve agreed, and decided Callie was a sweetie to even mention that they were related, in the circumstances. She grinned at Callie. ‘And you have your mother’s lovely eyes.’ She looked around. ‘What a turnout. Duncan was obviously popular.’

  ‘He was a very good man.’ Sylvia closed her eyes for a moment. Callie squeezed her mother’s hand.

  Oh, dear. Conversation was a bit of a minefield, but so was sitting there silently, and that had never been Eve’s strong point. ‘I’d say he was lucky to have you both. I love the pub. It’s full of character.’

  ‘Duncan was very proud of it.’

  There was another painful silence. Eve tried again. ‘Do you live here at the hotel, Sylvia? I know you live in Sydney, Callie.’

  ‘Close. I live in the house behind the hotel. It looks over the flats towards the river.’ Sylvia sat forward. ‘Which reminds me – you must stay with us, not in the hotel, Eve. We have plenty of room at home.’ She looked worried for a second. ‘Though not if you’d prefer the hotel, dear.’

  Eve held up her hand. ‘I think you’ll want to relax when this is over. Not put up with a guest. And I’ve booked my room. I’ll be fine.’ She glanced at Callie. ‘Though I’d love to spend some time with you and Callie tomorrow, if I could. But I don’t want to be a nuisance.’

  Callie shook her head decisively. ‘Nuisances don’t drive twelve hours to go to a funeral. It was a huge effort and we appreciate it. When do you go back?’

  ‘I’d like to stay an extra day or two. I have a few days off. I thought I’d spoil myself and take it slower on the way home.’ She grinned. ‘My respect for long-distance truck drivers just went
up a few notches.’

  ‘My respect for you has gone up.’ Callie gestured vaguely at the door. ‘I flew to Longreach and then drove down in a hire car. I’ve never driven from Brisbane, let alone Sydney. My husband refused . . .’ Her voice faded and she closed her eyes.

  Now that Eve thought about it, it was strange that Callie’s husband wasn’t by her side.

  Callie changed the subject abruptly. ‘I saw you talking to Henry McKay.’

  ‘Henry.’ Eve thought about that one. ‘Yep. Guy with the lemon squash and hunky brother.’

  Sylvia turned her head Eve’s way. ‘You don’t think Henry is hunky?’

  ‘My impression of Henry is that he’s a fun bit of fluff. Younger-than-me fluff. Good for a laugh. I imagine the brother might be too much the other way.’

  ‘Perceptive Eve.’ Callie smiled.

  A shadow fell across the doorway. ‘And who’s the handsome, horsey-looking lady in Dior making a beeline for you?’

  ‘That would be Blanche McKay,’ Callie said without glancing in her direction. Mother of Henry and Lex.’

  ‘Wow. Imagine her as an M-I-L.’

  ‘Don’t even think about it.’ Callie shuddered and Sylvia shushed them both as Blanche strode towards them with determination on her long face.

  She seemed to be heading for Eve, but at the last minute she swerved to face Sylvia. ‘My condolences, Sylvia. We will all miss Duncan very much.’

  The genuine regret on Blanche’s face had Sylvia’s eyes filling again. ‘Thank you, Blanche,’ she said, her voice quiet but composed. She gestured to Eve. ‘Have you met Callie’s half-sister, Eve?’

  ‘How do you do?’ Blanche nodded but didn’t offer her hand, and Eve remembered reading somewhere how people in the outback were often more comfortable nodding to strangers than shaking hands. They weren’t constantly brushing up against humanity like people in the city; maybe it was something to do with that.

  Blanche went on. ‘Henry tells me you’re a midwife?’

  She felt Callie stiffen beside her and resisted the temptation to look to see why. ‘Yes. In Brisbane. I go between a free-standing birth centre and casual relief in high-dependency.’

  Blanche turned to find a chair, and Henry, arriving from the bar with another squash for Eve, winked as he passed the glass to her, then pulled an over-stuffed chair across for his mother.

  Blanche settled herself, and her patrician nose wrinkled. ‘Birth centre. I’ve heard of those. Babies born underwater and all sorts of nonsense.’

  ‘I imagine it’s very different from where you had your children,’ Eve agreed.

  Blanche’s eyes sharpened. ‘Had to defend that before, have you?’

  Eve had to smile. ‘A few times.’

  ‘Henry said you were different.’

  Eve glanced at Henry, who grinned at the contest. But the conversation went no further, as the last of the McKays arrived.

  Blanche’s lips tightened as she was thwarted once again. ‘Have you met my other son, Lex?’

  The guy towered over her. Eve thought about standing up but it would be embarrassingly awkward from so low down.

  ‘Hello, Lex.’ She inclined her head in a passable Blanche impersonation but couldn’t keep the amusement from her eyes as the hunk nodded back coolly. He was obviously distracted by something but he did stern very nicely.

  His voice was as dry as one of those creek beds she’d passed this morning as he looked pointedly at his mother.

  ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to break up the party.’ He didn’t sound sorry, Eve thought flippantly, and she couldn’t help being a little disappointed she didn’t have a chance to enjoy the eye candy. ‘There’s a front coming across and we need to fly home before the turbulence hits.’

  Blanche opened and closed her mouth and then lifted her chin. ‘As you say.’ She stood, and Callie and Sylvia also rose gracefully.

  Henry stepped forwards and discreetly put out a hand to help Eve, who was deep in a struggle to disentangle her legs and not spill her drink.

  She glanced at him from under her fringe and whispered, ‘Thank you.’

  Blanche and Sylvia embraced briefly. She saw Lex squeeze Callie’s hand in his, and then collectively the McKays nodded at Eve as they turned away.

  Voices called goodbye and the crowd thinned magically, as if all were allowed to leave now that the McKays were going. People began to drift out to cars or hitch rides out to the aircraft parked opposite the graveyard. Those staying on would no doubt continue their enthusiastic send-off into the night.

  Five minutes later, Eve leaned against the rustic internal wall and watched Sylvia and Callie work the taproom, pleading Sylvia’s need for rest.

  As she waited for her turn to say goodbye, she caught the eye of an old bushie, his sun-wrinkled face its own life-lived channel country, shaded by an akubra. One wiry elbow was propped up on the bar as he clutched his glass of dark beer.

  She vaguely remembered his corrugated face from the funeral. Or she remembered the hat, held then in gnarled hands. Eve mentally bet herself he’d ride a horse as well as he rode the three-legged stool he was saddled on now. She crossed the room to put her empty squash glass on the bar.

  ‘You one of his other daughters, missy?’

  ‘Eve Wilson. How do you do?’ Neither offered to shake.

  ‘Lost me mate.’ He raised his glass to the portrait over the bar. ‘But his beer tastes good.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You drive?’

  ‘Only from Brisbane.’

  ‘Fair way.’

  ‘Nice drive.’ She found herself abbreviating her sentences in unconscious mimicry, and the thought made her smile.

  His eyes brightened, even if the expression on his weathered face didn’t change. There was a long silence, then, ‘You have the look of Dunk.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He lifted his glass and looked at her through it. Nodded. Then looked back down at his glass. Eve guessed she’d exhausted his need for conversation and, truth be told, she was crashing a little herself after the drive. She had a lot to think about, surrounded by the remnants of her father’s life.

  FOUR

  The next morning Callie woke to the raucous sound of cockatoos, a whole pink and white orchestra of them, and she could picture them, beak to beak, squabbling and shuffling sideways up and down the overhead telephone wires. She wondered how her new sister had slept and mentally shushed the noisy birds. She’d always loved the Major Mitchells and there was a familiarity about their sound that cemented her decision: she wasn’t going back to Sydney. Ever. She’d just have to make the transition happen.

  The biggest concern was Mum. She was bone-thin, and was it Callie’s imagination or was her mother a little bit jaundiced? She’d follow that up today and check if she’d seen anyone about it. Maybe it was due to the horror of losing Dad. His sudden heart attack had shocked Callie, shocked everyone. She could only imagine the depth of grief her mum was feeling.

  She had no job but was surprisingly unperturbed by the idea of selling her lucrative medical practice in Sydney. Maybe a conversation with Blanche McKay about her fantasy outback medical clinic could provide an option for the future? But definitely with less emphasis on Blanche’s idea of incorporating antenatal care.

  It might not be feasible – realistically, how much work was there here for a GP? Although until they tried they wouldn’t know, and at least Blanche might employ her while they found out. She’d ring her soon to clarify a few things before she wasted too much thought on it.

  Callie threw back the quilted cover she’d grown up with on her bed, and padded across the timber floor in bare feet to the window to gaze out over the red-dirt paddocks that led down to the creek. A clump of trees hid the pump house. Not much water in the waterholes as usual, but on the rare occasions of flood she’d seen the banks of water rise almost as high as the house.

  She glanced back towards the street and the roof of the hotel. Maybe she could just work in the pub. The
vision of an undemanding occupation beckoned like utopia after the overload of the last few days – and, if truth be told, the last few years.

  Either way, she wasn’t going back to see Kurt. There was an incredible simplicity to that thought, and she wondered how long she’d been suppressing the knowledge of the inequality in her marriage.

  There would be no suppressing his infidelity once Stella’s pregnancy started to show, and Callie had no desire to be the subject of sympathetic looks. There had been times when she’d been suspicious about other women. Had she been blind for years? Since the loss of the tiny daughter she’d never seen?

  Her throat closed as old grief for her lost baby swelled. No, she wasn’t going back. Her father had always been reserved around Kurt and would have stood by her decision.

  ‘Divorce,’ she said out loud, and winced. She, who was never going to have a marital break-up. Ah, well. The best-laid plans of mice and men – or wives of adulterous men – often went astray.

  She’d ring June at the surgery today. June was more than a secretary. She’d never said anything against Kurt, but hadn’t been one of his fans, no matter how nice he’d tried to be to her. Maybe Callie would offer June a temporary job out here, because the woman could organise anything, and she might come for an extended holiday if she didn’t stay on with the new doctor.

  Financially Callie would be fine.

  Such a thriving city practice shouldn’t be too hard to sell but she would miss her clients, the families she’d shared moments good and bad with over the last eight years, and would probably never see again. Like the young newly pregnant couple – was that only a few days ago? It felt like a lifetime.

  The cockatoos screeched again and Callie trod the familiar hallway to the kitchen to greet the day.

  It seemed there was no chance of making her mum tea and toast in bed because Sylvia already had the teapot on the table.

  ‘Morning, my mum.’

  ‘Morning, my daughter.’ Their eyes met, filled and they both sniffed. Dad had always added the ‘my’, and they would never hear it from him again.