‘It must have been serious,’ said the seventeen-year-old Cordelia.
Her mother slapped the reins. ‘It was. And even though Mother refuses to back down, this visit is to try and heal the split. And there’s no time like a wedding to put the past behind us.’
Cordelia looked away, disappointed. She’d have liked to know more about this intriguing split but Mum’s expression told her she would have to wait. Yet her spirits lifted as the horses came to a halt in a welter of dust and sweat beside the verandah. For there, standing beside his weather-beaten father, was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
Walter was eighteen. He’d gone to war by lying about his age and had returned wounded three years later. Now he stood lean and brown, crippled leg stiff from the hip which gave him a piratical swagger as he crossed the dirt clearing to greet them. Their eyes met over the steaming lather on the horses’ backs, and Cordelia fell deeply and irrevocably in love.
She sighed as the present returned in a glare of sun. That visit had promised so much and yet it was to end in failure, for Walter’s forthcoming wedding was the purpose of their visit, the excuse to heal the family rift – and although they had both immediately recognised their feelings, it was too late to do anything about them.
Her mother had seen the way they’d looked at one another – so had Walter’s father – and to avoid further family squabbles, they’d been kept apart. Cordelia had had to sit and watch as he exchanged vows with his young bride, and she and her mother had left for the Barossa the next day. The visit had brought an uneasy truce between the two sides of the family, but her grandmother died still refusing to speak to her sister, and as the years passed and distance made it impossible to visit again, communication between the two sides dwindled to the occasional card at Christmas.
Cordelia took a trembling breath. Here she was back where it had all started and she was as nervous as Sophie. Would Walter be glad to see her after so many years? Would he recognise the young girl he’d loved in the old woman she’d become? Her pulse raced as the camper drew to a halt. The years might have rolled on, but some things never changed – and although she knew it was impossible, there was the young and handsome Walter waiting for her on the verandah.
*
Sophie’s heart hammered as she brought the van to a halt. There was someone waiting on the verandah. He might have been in deep shadow but she would have recognised that figure anywhere.
Jay stepped from the shade into the sunlight. He was long and lean with a wiry strength that showed in his easy stride and broad shoulders. His slim hips were encased in white moleskins, brown, flat-heeled boots followed the curve of his muscular calves. He was perhaps a little more tanned than she remembered but his hair still shone blue-black in the sun, and his smile of welcome still had the power to make her pulse race and her legs feel weak.
She pulled her thoughts together and grabbed her bag. Goodness knows what he’ll make of me, she thought as she climbed out of the van. It was too late to run a brush through her hair and put on some make-up, and although she was furious it mattered so much, she was thankful she’d put on clean shorts and T-shirt this morning.
His gaze took her in with one sweep of those long-lashed dark eyes, then he grinned and without a word went around to the other side of the van to help Cordelia down. Sophie stood there, bewildered and for once unsure of what to do next. She hadn’t expected an effusive welcome but she had thought their meeting after so long would have been marked with more than silence.
Arrogant bastard, she thought, and reached into the camper van to snatch Gran’s overnight bag from the floor. If polite indifference was his weapon, then two could play at that bloody game.
‘How ya goin’, Aunt Cordy? You look pretty beaut for someone who’s travelled so far.’ Jay’s deep voice was as rich as dark chocolate as he bent to embrace the old woman.
Sophie watched, jealousy tearing through her as she remembered how she’d once been held in those strong brown arms, but she thrust the memory away and stared blindly out over the fields. She must not let him see how all this was affecting her.
‘How ya goin’, Soph? Been a long time.’
The voice was too close for comfort but she knew she would have to turn and face him. The deep-set, dark eyes looked down at her so steadily she could see her own reflection in them. ‘Good,’ she replied hoarsely. She cleared her throat, looking away from that sensuous mouth and strong chin. ‘But if I’d known this was where I was heading, I wouldn’t have bothered,’ she said with a chill that belied the rapid beat of her pulse.
‘Fair go, Soph,’ he drawled. ‘No need to be like that.’
He seemed unaffected by her coldness and she grasped the hold-all and handbag more firmly. ‘As you say – it’s been a long time,’ she muttered.
He eyed her with amusement, dark eyes dancing over her, making her feel like a petulant child. ‘Let’s get this lady into the shade,’ he said finally, turning back to Cordelia. He tucked the old lady’s hand into the crook of his arm, and shortening his stride to match her pace, led her to the verandah.
Feeling somewhat isolated, Sophie followed them along the red path and up the steps. It was wonderfully cool, with a breeze stirring the ferns and making the bougainvillaea flowers dance against the white trellis. She watched as Jay settled Gran into one of the chairs and fussed over the cushions. Gran was thoroughly enjoying herself. But then Jay had always been attentive, Sophie remembered – only now it was especially to scheming old ladies. She dumped the bags on the verandah floor and plumped down into the nearest chair. If this act of his was meant to impress her then he was wasting his time, she thought sourly.
Once they had been handed long tinkling glasses of home-made lemonade, Jay dug his hands deep into the pockets of his moleskins, the open neck of his checked shirt gaping to give a glimpse of a brown chest and smattering of dark hair. ‘Dad’s out on the terraces with my brothers but they’ll be back soon for tucker. Grandad’s having forty winks but I expect he’ll turn up right enough. He’s been looking forward to seeing you again, Cordelia.’
‘How is he?’ she asked.
‘He’ll be right. Bit creaky round the joints now, of course, but he still keeps us on our toes, the old bastard,’ he said fondly.
‘And your mother?’
Jay grinned. ‘Out riding as usual. Nothing keeps her tied to the kitchen and the house now she’s got the horse breeding up and running.’
As if to refute this remark, the screen door slammed back and a cheerful, sun-browned face peered out at them. ‘G’day,’ a woman said brightly as she strode out on to the verandah. ‘You must be Cordelia. Nice to meet you at last. The name’s Beatrice, but everyone calls me Beatty, and I’m responsible for this great hunk of manhood, God help me. And to think I went on and had four more. Must be something to do with all this fresh air.’ Her words rushed out as if she’d been set a time limit.
Beatty wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up, and her blonde hair was tethered by an alice band. Her only jewellery was a simple silver locket around her neck and silver studs in her ear lobes. Jay’s remark about her preference for the outdoors was borne out by the horse-stained jodhpurs, boots that were scuffed and worn and a faded checked shirt that had seen better days. But she was still a handsome woman, and as she stood next to her dark son, they made a striking contrast.
Sophie was surprised to hear the familiar upper-class Pommy bray. Jay had never told her his mother was English, and she could just imagine Beatty riding to hounds with the county set and wondered how she’d come to be living so far from home. Yet she seemed to be a part of this wild and demanding county – at home amongst the men and horses, the vines and the wilderness.
Very blue eyes were turned on Sophie, their appraisal swift. ‘You must be Sophia. I can see why Jay was once so smitten.’ The handshake was firm, the fingers rough from her work in the stables, but the smile was open and friendly.
Sophie knew he was watching her. Sh
e tried to ignore him and concentrate on his mother. ‘Sophie, please. Sophia makes me sound like an Italian film star.’
‘If you say so,’ Beatty replied without malice. ‘But I always thought Sophie a name for someone soft you could sit on and squash. And from what Jay’s told me you’re much too sensible for that.’ Beatty laughed and palmed back the sun-bleached lock of hair from her broad, unlined forehead.
Sophie felt a lurch of recognition. It was a gesture that mirrored Jay’s. A gesture she had once found endearing.
‘Tucker’s in about half an hour,’ declared Beatty, lighting up a cigarette, oblivious to the anomaly of such an Aussie word being uttered in plummy Pommy tones. ‘Jay, why don’t you take Sophie for a walk around the property while Cordelia and I get to know one another? I’m intrigued to meet you both at last, but I have a feeling this isn’t just a casual visit, and I’m nosy enough to want to find out more.’
Sophie looked to her grandmother for some excuse, but Cordelia was ignoring her, making a great show of fumbling in her handbag. She looked up at Jay who was leaning nonchalantly against a white column. No help there, she realised as she caught the challenging twinkle in his eye. ‘It’s a bit hot for a walk,’ she said quietly. ‘I think I’ll stay here in the shade.’
‘Nonsense,’ Beatty said firmly. ‘It’s time you and Jay acted your age. Clear off and leave me and Cordelia to gossip.’
‘Mum has spoken,’ said Jay, the lines at the corners of his eyes creasing with humour. ‘We have no choice.’
Sophie rose from the chair with as much grace as she could muster and followed him down the steps into the broiling heat of the midday sun. It felt strange to be walking beside him again. Strange and disconcerting as their bare arms feathered against one another and sent a shock-wave through her. She widened the gap between them.
Jay didn’t seem to notice, or if he did was keeping his thoughts to himself as he strode around the side of the house, his flat-heeled boots ringing on the stone path. ‘Dad pulled the old place down before it could disintegrate,’ he said, his voice as emotionless as a tour guide’s. ‘This new place is bonzer but it doesn’t have half the character. I can still remember sitting on the old porch, watching the fireflies at night as the house creaked and the wind blew round the rock pilings that held it up.’
Sophie blindly followed him. She shouldn’t be feeling like this – not so soon. Had Cris been right about their marriage being a sham? A romance off the rebound that she hadn’t had the courage to acknowledge for what it was? It had seemed unthinkable back in London – but the reality was far more difficult to digest. The sound of Jay’s voice, the aroma of the stables and warm flesh that emanated from him were achingly familiar and far too enticing for her to believe anything else.
‘Dad cleared the scrub and built the stables after he and Mum got married,’ he carried on. It was as if he had no idea of the turmoil he was inflicting. ‘Mum came from a wealthy county family back in England and was used to having horses around.’ He grinned. ‘According to Dad, they weren’t too happy about her coming out here with a wild colonial boy, who could drink any man under the table and spoke with an accent that cut steel. But Mum loves it, and apart from an occasional visit back home says she’s always pleased to get back here to Coolabah Crossing and her horses.’
‘Why the name?’ she managed at last. ‘What’s a Coolabah?’
‘Strewth, Soph! You don’t know much for a dinky-di Aussie. Been a Pom too long, I reckon, I’m going to have to educate you.’ He grinned again as he palmed the black hair out of his eyes and made her senses race. ‘The Aboriginals call all gum trees Coolabahs, but in fact it’s one of the smaller eucalypts, with rough bark and thick foliage. The gum-nuts are much smaller than those of the bloodwood, red, yellow or blue gum, and it never grows much over thirty-five feet. When this land was first cleared, they left the Coolabahs as wind-breaks and shade.’
‘Like Jacaranda,’ she murmured. ‘When that was first settled, the Jacaranda trees were in full bloom, and because of the wonderful lilac flowers, it was decided to use them as an emblem for the vineyard. We still do,’ she said sadly. ‘But for how long is anyone’s guess.’
He stood there, his hands in his pockets, his eyes screwed up against the sun. ‘I heard about your troubles. Can’t be easy.’
‘It’s nothing we can’t handle,’ she said firmly. ‘I didn’t take up corporate law so could sit wringing my hands.’
He turned towards her, blocking out the sun, the nearness of him making her breathless. ‘What did I do to make you so crook, Sophie? Surely enough time has passed for us to be mates?’ His eyes were deepest black as he looked down at her.
She glared back at him. ‘If you don’t know there’s no point in discussing it,’ she snapped. She turned and walked away – those eyes were having a strange effect on her. ‘I’m going back to Gran.’
‘You’re running away again, Sophie.’
His soft, deep voice trailed her as she hurried down the path. Too right, she thought. And the faster the better. Gran should have realised it was a mistake to come here – a mistake to think she would be unaffected by Jay’s presence and all the memories it brought with it. What the hell had she plotted in that devious mind of hers – and why?
*
Cordelia was enjoying herself. It was good to sit here on the verandah after a home-cooked dinner and reminisce with Jay’s grandfather Walter. Her distant cousin was wearing well, and although he was almost ninety-one, there was still a sparkle in his eye that belied the grey hair and grizzled jaw.
Walter, or Wal as everyone called him, had never been a natty dresser, and this evening was decked out in scruffy trousers held at the waist with an old tie while his shirt had lost several buttons, giving a glimpse of a food-stained singlet and leathery chest.
‘Jeez, it’s good to see ya, Cordy,’ he drawled as he put his tinny on the verandah decking. ‘Quite like old times, eh?’ He laced his fingers over the small mound of his belly and eyed her with pleasure.
‘Too right, Wal. Should have done this years ago – but you know how it is.’ She looked down at her own gnarled hands, the years that had passed heavy with memories.
‘Wouldn’t have done no good, not all the time you was married to that bastard. My Emily passed away almost thirty years ago, Cordy. You could have come back then. Brought the kids with ya. There was always a home for you here, you know.’
She patted his arm. ‘It wasn’t as simple as that, Wal. There was Jacaranda.’
He nodded, his eyes distant. ‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘The vines have a way of tangling a bloke up, tying them to one place. But I’m rapt you’ve finally made it.’
‘I should have done this years ago while I still had the strength to ride out over the pastures. But all the time Jock was alive …’ She didn’t finish the sentence. They were from a generation that lived with their mistakes, and understood why things could never have worked between them. Which didn’t mean they hadn’t been tempted.
It was seventy years ago – by God how time flew, how much living they’d both done – since that last night together. They’d been standing on the top of the guardian hill, looking down at Coolabah Crossing. The moonlight drenched the valley in silver, the dark shadows of the vines sprawling across the land. It was the night before Wal’s wedding and they’d managed to sneak away while the family slept.
He’d been standing close but not enough to touch Cordelia – and yet she could feel his warmth and energy. She had known she would remember this night forever. Had known she would treasure it like a precious jewel. ‘I wish …’ she’d begun.
He’d stilled her, his fingers tracing her lips. ‘I know, Cordy. But we’ll always have this memory. Always think of each other when we stand in another moonlight, no matter how far apart we are. If we take what we both want now, then what we already have will be destroyed.’
He’d reached for her then and held her close, his mouth pressed against the top of her he
ad. Cordelia had clung to him, breathed in the scent of tobacco and horses, of fresh air and hot earth. She wanted him, needed him – but knew he was right.
Wal’s voice was soft, drawing her back to the present. ‘Remembering the moonlight?’ He smiled sadly, the once dark eyes misted with age and regret. ‘There’s many a night I’ve stood out there thinking – and it kinda helped knowing you was doing the same.’
She nodded. ‘Reckon we’ve been living too much in the past, Wal. Things change, nothing stands still.’
He smoked in silence for a while. ‘I read about your troubles in the paper,’ he said gruffly. ‘How can I help, Cordy?’
*
Mary had feigned sleep for most of the day. Daisy was still sitting outside in the visitors’ lounge, reading a book, but sooner or later she would need the bathroom or something to eat and that would give Mary a chance to escape.
‘Bloody hell,’ she groaned as Daisy pulled a neatly wrapped sandwich out of her bag, and poured a drink from a thermos. ‘Trust her. Why doesn’t the bitch just leave me alone?’
She slumped back into the pillows, thumping them hard with her fists. She was on the fifth floor which overlooked a concrete path and a rockery full of redstone boulders, and the only door in the room led straight to the corridor – and Daisy. She couldn’t afford to leave it much longer. The doctor would be doing his rounds soon, and she knew from past experience they wouldn’t keep her in another night. Daisy probably knew that, too. Which explained why she was sitting out there like a prison guard.
Mary began to peel the plaster off her hand and, with a grimace, pulled out the drip. Keeping an eye on her sister, she swung her legs off the bed and stuffed a pillow beneath the sheet. Hidden by the partially closed door, she tottered over to the cupboard and reached for her clothes.
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