Woman at Willagong Creek

by Hart, Jessica

  Guy glanced around, but his gaze returned to Olivia. ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘I suppose it does.’

  Across the room, their eyes met, and for Olivia it was as if the ticking clock and the slowly drifting dust had stopped with the beat of her heart. Suspended in time, unable to breathe, she could only stare back at Guy. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. All she knew was that the latent hostility had suddenly gone, and that his eyes held her in thrall.

  And then the sound of eager footsteps broke the spell. The clock resumed its ticking, the dust continued its languid descent, her heart hammered back into life. She found she was clutching the broom as if for support, and very gradually loosened her grip. What on earth was the matter with her? The indifferent look had dropped back over Guy’s face so utterly that she wondered if she had been imagining things.

  ‘Look what I’ve found!’ David burst through the screen door, his hands cupped in front of him.

  ‘What is it?’ Guy asked, peering down as David eased his hands apart just enough for him to see. He nodded, impressed. ‘Take a look at this, Olivia.’

  How could he sound so normal? Hadn’t he felt anything just now? Still taken up with that odd little interlude, she leant down incuriously to inspect David’s prize.

  In his hands he held the most enormous spider she had ever seen.

  This time she thought her heart really was going to stop. She felt the hairs at the back of her neck rise in cold horror as the blood drained from her face and the scream clogged in her throat. She had always had a phobia about spiders, and to have this one, evil and grotesque, thrust under her nose was more than she could bear!

  ‘Take it out!’ she croaked, backing away, and then, when David only looked surprised and then aggrieved, her voice rose in shrill panic. ‘Take it out! Take it out! Take it out!’

  ‘I think she wants you to take it out,’ Guy said to David, dry amusement in his voice.

  The look they had exchanged was forgotten. Olivia hated him, hated his condescending amusement, hated David’s long-suffering sigh as he trudged outside. Her voice shook as she wrapped her arms about her protectively and glared at Guy. ‘It’s not funny!’ she snapped.

  ‘Take it easy, Olivia. It’s only a spider.’

  ‘Only!’ She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to try and stop it shaking. ‘It was horrible! And you - you just encouraged him! Did you do it deliberately? Did you think it would be a good trick to frighten me? Was it part of some plan to make me go away?’ She was teetering on the edge of hysteria.

  ‘Don’t be silly!’ Guy took her by the shoulders and shook her sharply. His hands were hard against the bare skin of her arms and she felt his strength flow through her. ‘David brought the spider because he thought you’d be as interested as he is in insects. He didn’t mean to frighten you. He just wanted to show it off.’ Almost absently, he rubbed his thumbs against the soft skin of her upper arms, holding her firmly, as he might quieten a frightened horse. His touch was curiously reassuring.

  ‘How could he pick it up?’ Olivia shuddered. She pulled away from Guy’s grip. The hysteria had subsided, but illogical resentment bubbled at how easily he had calmed her with touch rather than words. ‘How can you let him go around picking up things like that? There are all sorts of poisonous creatures out there! What if something bit him? He might be killed!’

  ‘David knows what’s poisonous and what isn’t,’ Guy said steadily. ‘There’s no point in being over-protective. Some boys like trains, some boys like soldiers. David likes insects. That’s just the way he is, and you’re going to have to accept that, because he’s going to be the same wherever he is. If you can’t deal with the fact that he’s a small boy, you shouldn’t be dealing with him at all.’ He retrieved his hat from the sideboard and settled it on his head. ‘I’ll leave you to think about it.’ With a last look at her rigid countenance, he walked out, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room.

  Olivia couldn’t sleep. Pushing back the wooden shutters, she leant on the windowsill and stared out at the night. It was utterly quiet, the blackness lit only by the light of the massy stars of the southern hemisphere.

  ‘Oh, Diane, what should I do?’ she murmured. She desperately wanted to do what was best for David, both for his sake and for Diane’s. She had been so sure of what to do before Guy Richardson had interfered, she thought bitterly. Now she just didn’t know.

  She thought about her flat in London. It had been a new conversion, conveniently central, practical, tastefully decorated. She liked being at the top of the house, liked having no garden to look after. But how would David cope somewhere like that? There would be nowhere for him to play, nowhere to run, no horrible insects to collect.

  She could move, of course … ‘Where?’ she asked herself honestly. She would never be able to afford a big house with a garden. She could certainly never give David a horse to ride or a creek to play in. She had to work to support herself - and David now - and her job had to be based in London. Coming to Australia had been a way to run away from Tim and the thought of all those wasted years for a while, but she couldn’t stay. She knew from Diane that Australian immigration rules were very strict, and she would never get the right kind of visa at her age, even if she wanted to stay. She would have to go back to face Tim and his new wife and sympathetic friends eventually.

  But how would David fit in with her career and her smart, sophisticated friends? Guy’s comments about her social life were unfair, but it would still be hard for her to stay in with a little boy knowing that friends were out at parties or concerts or restaurants.

  Up until now she had led such a selfish existence, she realised. Her parents had died when she was not much older than David - she knew a little of what he felt - and since then she’d really only ever had herself to consider.

  Now she had to think about David.

  It was scary to feel so responsible. Olivia swallowed. Her first thoughts had been about herself, hadn’t they? How much she was going to miss Diane. How her life was going to have to change because of David. She hadn’t realised then that Diane had trusted her to do what was best for her son.

  David was happier here than he would be with her in London, she acknowledged reluctantly. And Guy was right, she had no idea how to cope with a small boy. He would be far better off here, in spite of the isolation, the lack of schools and hospitals and playgrounds.

  Tomorrow she would go to Guy and tell him that she would leave David with him after all.

  Chapter Three

  Her decision made, Olivia relaxed slightly, only to tense again as the muffled sound of a child’s crying broke the stillness of the night.

  David. She hesitated. Would he want her to see him crying? Weren’t little boys proud about that kind of thing?

  But she couldn’t just stand here and listen to a child sobbing! Shrugging herself into the dark blue silk kimono she had bought on her last trip to Japan, she slipped out of her room and down to David’s closed door. She knocked softly.

  ‘David?’

  He was lying face down on the bed, thin shoulders heaving, racked by sobs. Olivia’s heart cracked. He was only small.

  ‘David,’ she said again, sitting down on the bed and pulling him gently on to her lap.

  He resisted at first. ‘I want Mum!’ he cried desperately, struggling against unfamiliar arms.

  ‘I know.’ Olivia held him tightly. ‘I know you do, David,’ she whispered, and he gave in abruptly and buried himself against her. Heavy and sodden with grief, he cried for his mother and for his father and for all the love and security that had been wiped out by a drunken driver on the Pacific Highway.

  The tears slid unheeded down Olivia’s face as she rocked him instinctively, murmuring soothing, meaningless words of comfort. Who would have thought that the rather cocky little boy who had showed off his pony would have had all this bottled up inside him?

  ‘Mum had a dress just like the one you wore tonight,’ Davi
d told her at last, between shuddering breaths. ‘It was her best dress. She wore it to the school barbecue …’

  ‘I’m sorry, David. I didn’t know.’

  ‘It’s just … I was thinking about her … Mostly I try not to …’

  Olivia sat on, holding him, letting him talk in halting, jerky sentences, resting her cheek on the sweet-smelling, childish head where the tousled hair grew in obstinately different directions. Once she glanced up to see Guy in the doorway, watching her with a questioning look, but she laid a finger against her lips and he nodded, leaving her alone with David once more.

  At last he began to drift asleep. Olivia smoothed out his sheets as best she could and laid him down tenderly. ‘I’m sorry about the spider. Mum didn’t like spiders either,’ he mumbled, only just awake, and then, ‘You’re not going to go away just yet, are you?’

  Olivia looked down at him, an odd expression on her face. ‘No, David,’ she said, but so quietly that he probably didn’t hear as he slipped into sleep. ‘I won’t go away.’

  From the veranda, she watched Guy and David ride past along the trail towards the paddock. Guy’s horse towered over David’s pony. He sat easily in the saddle, head bent down to the boy chattering beside him.

  David appeared to be none the worse for his outburst last night. Olivia wondered if he even remembered. She certainly wished she felt that fresh and bright. She had fallen into an uneasy sleep long after she had left David’s room, and now her head ached and her body buzzed with exhaustion.

  Resting her head back against the battered wicker with a sigh, she forced herself to think about the arguments once more. David would be happiest staying at Willagong Creek, she had decided that. But last night had shown her that he was much more vulnerable than he had appeared. It was different now. Holding the small, unhappy child last night had awoken in her a fierce protectiveness that she had not known she possessed. She couldn’t just walk away from Diane’s son, she couldn’t leave David behind knowing that he might need her, however rarely. He might have a horse and a creek, but he was only eight. He needed a mother too.

  He would hate living in London. And she had promised that she would stay.

  Olivia glanced around her, at the dusty wooden floor, at the sagging shutter and the peeling paint. Outside the glare bounced off every surface and the corrugated-iron roof of the cookhouse flashed in the unrelenting sun. A fly settled on her hand and she brushed it away irritably.

  She would hate living here.

  The idea that had come to her in the early hours of the morning had been so startling that at first she had dismissed it out of hand, but she was still thinking about it now in broad daylight. It might work … if only she could pluck up the courage …

  Olivia stood up suddenly, her mind made up. She could see Guy in the distance, walking with that deliberate gait of his towards the sheds.

  The glare hit her as she ran lightly down the steps and waved to him. ‘Guy!’ He stopped, turned to watch her shade her eyes with one hand and beckon to him again. Her hair glittered like gilt in the sunlight.

  He never hurried, Olivia thought with a flash of irritation, hastily suppressed. This wasn’t the time to get snappy with him. By the time he reached her, she had a bright smile on her face, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded.

  It wasn’t a promising beginning. With his cool, watchful eyes on her face, Olivia’s confidence in her sudden bright idea began to falter. Come on, she chided herself. You’re Olivia Bridewell, famed for her poise in difficult situations!

  ‘Er - could I talk to you for a minute?’

  ‘Can’t it wait till later?’ He obviously wasn’t going to be helpful.

  ‘I’d rather talk to you now.’ Olivia had to screw up her eyes against the glare. ‘Look, it’s so bright out here. Can’t we sit on the veranda? It won’t take long.’

  Guy shrugged, but followed her back to the welcome shade. The chair creaked as he sat down next to her. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me that you’re going to take David away?’ he said flatly.

  She glanced at him in surprise. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I saw you with him last night, remember?’ He hesitated, as if remembering the scene: the sobbing child clutching for comfort, being cradled against softness and blue silk, Olivia’s bright hair, tousled for once, falling forward as she rested her cheek on his head, her eyes shadowed. ‘I imagined you were going to tell me he needs a mother.’

  ‘Doesn’t he?’

  There was a pause. ‘Perhaps.’ Guy looked out at the dusty yard shimmering in the heat. ‘But I think he needs this kind of life more. I promise I’ll get a good woman in to look after him.’

  ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.’ Olivia steeled herself as he turned his head in surprise. ‘You haven’t appointed anyone yet, have you?’

  ‘No,’ he said, obviously wondering where this was leading.

  ‘Why not let me be your housekeeper?’

  ‘You?’ He stared at her incredulously. ‘A housekeeper?’

  Olivia licked her lips nervously. ‘Why not?’

  He looked at her. She had made an effort to look more practical and was wearing narrow stone-coloured trousers and a white sleeveless top, but the effect was somehow only to make her look more sophisticated. Leaning forward, he took one of her hands and inspected it. ‘Look at this hand,’ he said. Olivia followed his gaze down to where it lay, soft, slim, perfectly manicured in his hold, and wondered how it was possible to feel so aware of every single millimetre of his skin touching hers. ‘This hasn’t done much rough work, has it?’ He gave her back her hand as if it were a parcel. ‘I need someone who’s not afraid of getting her hands dirty.’

  Olivia’s mouth was set in a determined line. ‘I can work,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I can clean and cook as well as the next person - if not better.’ She lifted her chin proudly. ‘I’ve got a cordon bleu certificate.’

  ‘Fancy cooking’s not much use out here,’ Guy pointed out, patently unimpressed.

  ‘I’m sure with a little practice I could learn to cook as badly as Corky, if that’s what you want!’ she snapped before she could help herself.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you serious about this?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ Olivia stood up restlessly and went to stand by the veranda rail, not looking at Guy. ‘I’ve thought and I’ve thought, and it makes sense. You’re right, David would hate London. I think he should grow up here, but he’s just a little boy. He needs someone to look after him properly, and I want it to be me.’ She turned back to face him. ‘That means me staying here as well. You need a housekeeper anyway … it seems like the obvious solution.’

  Guy was sitting forward, staring down at his hands clasped loosely between his knees. He lifted his head as she finished to look at her, his eyes dark and intent. ‘And what about your oh, so important career?’

  She met his gaze squarely. ‘I’d resigned my job so I could set up as a freelance. I can still do that. It’ll just mean waiting a little while.’ She hesitated. It was hard explaining just how much her career meant to her. She loved the people and the planning and the travel. More importantly, it was something she had achieved for herself. It wasn’t going to be easy without the stimulation of her colleagues or the adrenalin-pumping approach of deadlines, but she didn’t think Guy would understand that. ‘David won’t need me forever,’ was all she said.

  ‘And what happens when you get bored?’ Guy asked in a hard voice. ‘There are no nightclubs round here, no convenient queue of boyfriends to take you out to dinner when you get sick of roast.’

  ‘You’ve got a very exaggerated view of my social life,’ Olivia told him. ‘I had one boyfriend, yes, but he was hardly a queue.’

  ‘And what about him? Is he coming out too?’

  ‘He’s just got married,’ she said in an even tone.

  Guy’s dark brows drew together. ‘I see.’

&nbs
p; ‘I doubt if you do.’ Her eyes were a cold, clear green. ‘Look, I’m sure it will be difficult for me to get used to, but I’m prepared to live without a social life for a while.’ Turning abruptly away, she said, ‘My parents died when I was not much older than David. I know how he feels.’ She stared unseeingly at the tall, elegant gums shading the creek in the distance. Her voice was very low. ‘Diane was my best friend then. She was always my best friend. Even when she married Pete and moved out here, we used to talk on the phone the whole time. She was always there when I needed her. Always there …’ Her voice wobbled, but she finished steadily. ‘I’m not leaving her son. That’s all there is to it.’

  ‘I see.’ Guy was silent for so long that she turned slightly to look at him over her shoulder. He was watching her with an arrested expression, as if surprised by the unexpected glimpse of steel beneath the glamour. The flat planes of his face seemed to be accentuated by the shade. ‘How long would you anticipate being my housekeeper?’ he said at last in a dry voice.

  ‘Two or three years? Until he goes away to school, I suppose.’

  ‘It’s not that easy, though, is it? You’re just a tourist here. You can’t just stay as long as you want - you won’t get a visa to be a housekeeper. What’s going to happen when your visa runs out?’

  ‘I’ve thought of that,’ Olivia said evenly. She took a deep breath. ‘I’d like you to marry me.’

  Silence. It stretched, twanged. Olivia was sure she could hear her words echoing around the outback, fading slowly into the distance. Marry me. Marry me. Marry me.

  She could hear the wicker scrape protestingly against the wooden floorboards as Guy got to his feet. ‘Marry you?’ he repeated softly. He was standing very close, the impression of leashed power almost overwhelming.

  ‘Yes.’ Olivia cleared her throat. ‘The only way I could get a residency permit is to marry an Australian. It would be a strictly business arrangement,’ she went on hurriedly, risking a glance at his inscrutable face. ‘Just a formality, really. It would only need to be for a few years, as I said, and you’d save on a housekeeper’s salary.’ What else could she say to convince him? ‘For David’s sake …’ she finished lamely.