Jacaranda Vines

by Tamara McKinley

  The pony drew near and he leaped from his hiding place and grabbed the reins. ‘So keres?’

  After her initial scare, Tina struggled to calm her pony which danced, wild-eyed, shaking its head to free itself from John’s grip. ‘What does it look like?’ she retorted. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ he snapped. ‘Go back to the camp where you belong.’

  ‘I belong with you,’ she said defiantly. She reached into the hidden pocket of her skirts and pulled out a leather purse and dangled it by the drawstrings. ‘I have my darro, and permission of the dukkerin.’

  ‘I don’t want your dowry – and I don’t want you,’ he said harshly. ‘I can travel faster on my own.’

  A single tear glinted on her cheek, but her head remained high, her composure regal as she sat on the pony’s back and looked down at him. ‘I will follow you to the ends of the earth,’ she said softly. ‘For one day you will realise the truth of the dukkerin’s warning, and you will need me at your side.’

  ‘I don’t need you – I never have. Now go. Go!’ John slapped the pony’s rump, making it rear up before it galloped back into the woods. He was furious with himself for feeling sorry for the girl, furious he’d had to be so harsh. But Tina was an expert horsewoman, she would survive the mad rush back to the camp, just as she would survive without him.

  He leaped back on his horse and kicked it into a gallop. There was a long way to go, and he wanted to travel as many miles possible before day-break.

  18

  The sun was going down, the dark clouds of an approaching storm hastening the night. Sophie remained on a roughly hewn bench and watched them gather.

  All was silence. All was still. And the Hunter Valley held its breath – waiting for the first explosive blast of thunder.

  The crash seemed to rock the very core of the ground beneath her feet, and as she raced for cover the forks of lightning rent the clouds with jagged fingers that ran blue and yellow as they sought the earth. Sheets of yellow blanketed the darkness with a light almost as strong as the sun’s, flashing like mirrors, turning the world sepia and one-dimensional in their afterglow.

  The homestead seemed to crouch on the hillside, the pale light at its windows no match for the light-show outside. Sophie ran up the steps two at a time, tripped over a pair of boots that had been left on the verandah and would have gone sprawling if strong arms hadn’t caught her.

  ‘Whoah there, mind how y’going.’

  She was breathless from the long run, her heart hammering, and there seemed to be no strength in her to pull away from Jay. The wonderfully familiar scent of him surrounded her as his muscular arms held her close, and she could feel the drum of his pulse beneath her fingers. How safe she felt – how lovely it would be if they could stay like this forever.

  ‘I’ll be right,’ she finally managed to gasp as she eased away from him. ‘Reckon I should get back to the gym – I didn’t realise how unfit I was.’ Her voice was light, the laugh a little brittle, but she had to do something to break the mood.

  ‘Look fit enough to me,’ he said, those dangerous dark eyes gleaming in the half light as he smiled down at her.

  Sophie tucked in her shirt – it gave her something to do, something to take her mind off his all-too penetrating gaze. ‘Who left those bloody boots there in the first place?’ she demanded crossly. ‘I could have broken my neck.’

  His hand lifted her hair and softly caressed the column of her neck. ‘It’s such a lovely one, too,’ he murmured.

  ‘Stop it, Jay,’ she warned. ‘Don’t play games.’

  He was very close, and the electricity between them had nothing to do with the storm raging around them. ‘This isn’t a game, Sophie,’ he murmured. ‘Never has been.’

  She eyed him for a long moment, her thoughts in turmoil. If he was telling the truth, then why had their relationship foundered? If he was lying – then he was despicable. Yet she wanted it to be the truth, wanted to forget the past and begin again. She was about to speak when the screen door slammed against the wall, making them both jump.

  ‘There you are,’ said Beatty briskly. ‘Sophie, I think you ought to go and see your grandmother. She doesn’t look at all well, but she refuses to let me call a doctor.’

  Sophie snapped out of her trance. ‘Call one anyway,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll go and talk to her.’ She pushed past Jay and ran into the house.

  Cordelia was propped against a mound of pillows, her thick white air for once in disarray. ‘I will not have you making a fuss, Sophie,’ she said querulously. ‘I’m not crook.’

  Sophie noticed the blue tinge around her grandmother’s mouth, the dullness of her eyes and the tremor in her hands. She wet her lips, all at once fearful of losing her. ‘I know, Gran,’ she murmured as she sat on the edge of the bed and took the frail hand. ‘But we’d be happier if you’d see the doctor to reassure us it’s no more than tiredness.’

  The old woman struggled against the pillows. ‘You’ll do as you’re told, my girl,’ she snapped. ‘When I want a doctor, I’ll call one – and not before. I might be old, but I haven’t lost my ability to make decisions.’ Her thin lips were drawn in a stubborn line as she finger-combed her hair from her face and tried to tidy it. ‘And whatever you do, don’t let Wal in here,’ she added. ‘I must look a fright.’

  Sophie grinned. Her colour and frailty belied the strong spirit of the old woman, and as long as she had that they stood a chance of keeping her a while longer. She picked up the silver-backed mirror and brush from the dressing-table and handed them to her grandmother. ‘Better get you dolled up then,’ she said brightly. ‘Because he’s hovering.’

  ‘Silly old fool,’ Cordelia muttered.

  Brightness returned to Cordelia’s eyes and the twitch of a smile glimmered at the corners of her mouth as she dragged the brush through her hair and eyed her reflection.

  She shivered and put down the mirror. ‘Nasty inventions,’ she muttered. ‘They say the camera and the mirror never lie, but every time I look in that thing, I don’t see the woman I know – the young woman who’s trapped in this tired, wrinkled husk. Enjoy your youth, Sophie. Don’t fritter it away by ignoring the things that matter, like I did.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say I’m wasting my life, Gran,’ she replied, puzzled at this turn of conversation. ‘I have a good job and wonderful prospects whichever way the corporation goes. The world’s my oyster.’

  ‘Hmmph. Job prospects are all very well, but that’s not what I’m talking about.’ The penetrating gaze was turned on her. ‘Don’t waste time dithering, Sophie. We only have one real chance of happiness in this life – and I wouldn’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she replied, her gaze drifting away.

  There was a soft chuckle from the bed. ‘Yes, you do, my girl. I reckon it’s time you and Jay sorted things out between you and made an old woman happy before she dies.’ Cordelia smoothed the linen sheet, the diamonds on her fingers sparkling in the electric light. ‘Now clear off and tell Wal he can come in for a minute. Though what on earth he wants to see me for, I have no idea.’

  Sophie got off the bed and kissed the cool, soft cheek. ‘You’re a wicked old woman. But then you know that, don’t you?’ she said fondly.

  Arthritic fingers circled her wrist. ‘I might be a bloody nuisance most of the time but I haven’t done anything really wicked, Sophie.’

  She looked down at the wrinkled face she loved so well, suddenly puzzled by the seriousness she saw there. ‘I’m sure you haven’t, Gran,’ she said with a shaky smile.

  ‘Some might say I did what I did out of spite – but they’d be wrong, Sophie. I did it out of love.’ She sighed and seemed to come to a decision. ‘There’s something I have to tell you. I’ve never been ashamed of it but it’s something others might not understand.’ She looked deep into her granddaughter’s brown eyes and sighed again. ‘It happened a long time ago
and would have remained a secret if things hadn’t worked out the way they have. As it is, I think you have a right to know before we go back to Melbourne.’

  Cordelia’s words had sent a chill of fear through her. As Sophie perched on the bed again and took her grandmother’s hand, she felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding.

  ‘What is it, Gran,’ she whispered. ‘What did you do that was so wrong?’

  *

  Mary was scared. For the first time in her life she was truly alone. There had been no reply to her numerous phone calls – it looked as if her latest boyfriend was away, and she didn’t dare call her sisters. She knew she’d alienated her family with her revelations to Sharon Sterling, and had compounded that disloyalty by running away from Daisy – yet she would have given anything to talk to one of them, to have them with her in this tacky motel on the side of the highway leading out of Goulburn.

  With restless energy, she began to pace the room. The bright orange walls and swirling pattern on the carpet seemed to close in on her, and the garish oil paintings that passed for art seemed to mock her with their florid colours and amateur themes. What the hell was she doing here? Why this place out of all the others she could have chosen? It was farming country, and although the twin rivers that ran through it were attractive enough, and the town itself was blessed with many fine old buildings, the motel was dumped right across the road from a tacky tourist trap where day-trippers could come and gawp at sheep shearers and learn about farming.

  She lit a cigarette and stared out of the window at the giant concrete monstrosity that was supposed to represent a merino sheep. A stream of cars was already turning off the highway into the car park. She pulled the blinds and resumed her pacing. The need for a drink was growing but she knew that once started she couldn’t stop, so she chain smoked instead.

  The irony wasn’t lost on her and her smile was grim. ‘One way or the other I’m slowly killing myself,’ she muttered. ‘But who the hell cares anyway? Certainly not Mum or Sophie.’

  She eyed the telephone. Perhaps she should call one of her sisters, let them know where she was before Daisy made a fuss and called the cops? The seconds ticked by as she puffed on the cigarette, her mind working with cool detachment. ‘To hell with them,’ she muttered finally. ‘Let them stew. Perhaps they’ll forgive me once they think I’m out of their lives or in danger – but I don’t care.’

  Sinking on to the bed, she stared at the orange walls. ‘Oh, God,’ she said, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘I’ve made such a mess of things and I don’t know what to do to put it right. Everyone hates me and I’m so lonely. So very lonely.’

  *

  ‘You can go in now, Wal,’ Sophie murmured as she passed him in the hall. ‘But don’t be too long. She’s very tired.’

  The old man eyed her thoughtfully then went to Cordelia. Sophie shivered as the thunder crashed overhead and lightning struck with a crack. Cordelia’s revelations had stunned her, making it difficult to think or to speak, even to put one foot in front of the other. Certain pieces of the jigsaw had come together, making a mockery of all she’d known – shifting her sense of time and place, destroying long-held beliefs. It would take only a word, a thoughtless gesture, to shake the very foundations of Jacaranda.

  ‘The tangled web,’ she muttered. This family of hers was bound by secrets and lies – by one man’s determination to destroy all that was good – by Cordelia’s determination to outwit him. She wandered down the gloomy hall and out on to the verandah, her mind going over the story Cordelia had told her, almost unaware of the turmoil in the skies.

  ‘Sophie?’

  Jay’s voice was raised to compete with the storm and she turned to him blindly. It would have been the most natural thing in the world once for her to creep into his embrace. She still needed his comfort and strength, longed for his warmth. Yet this was neither the time nor the place. They needed to talk, but not with her emotions running high, her thoughts in confusion.

  He seemed to catch her mood and made no move towards her. ‘It’s not Cordelia, is it?’

  She shook her head. ‘Gran …’ She stumbled over the word. ‘Gran’s just old, Jay. But she’ll go when she’s ready and not before. She’s far too bloody-minded and there’s still a lot she wants to do.’

  His breath came out in a long sigh. ‘We never met before but I can see why you love her. She reminds me of my own great-grandmother.’

  Sophie stared out at the strobe lights of the storm that flashed on the hills. The world hadn’t changed, hadn’t stopped spinning because of what Gran had told her. Yet everything seemed out of focus, unreal in the light of those revelations. ‘What was she like?’

  He laughed. ‘She had red hair that looked as if it was on fire when the sun caught it, and a temper to match. But she had great spirit and a capacity to instil happiness in everyone around her. I was five when she died, Great-gran’s favourite. I spent a lot of time with her, listening to her stories, going through that red lacquer box and the scrap-books. She conjured up a magic world for me of people and places I came to know and understand as I grew up. I still miss her terribly – but with Cordelia here, it’s as if she’s returned.’

  His expression was sober as he looked down at her. ‘I can still remember the terrible day she died. It was as if the light had gone out in the house, and a vast emptiness took its place.’ He stared off into space, the changing shadows in his face unveiling his thoughts.

  ‘Great-gran was eighty-five, but she did her share of work around the place. She was never still, and sometimes, on a quiet night, I think I can hear those busy little feet tramping up and down the kitchen floor – but of course that’s impossible because she never lived in this house. She died long before we moved here.’ He smiled down at her, the dark stubble on his chin enhancing his square jaw and sensuous mouth. ‘But I like to think she’s here all the same,’ he murmured.

  Sophie was mesmerised, trapped by his eyes. It seemed to take a great deal of effort for him to look away and collect his thoughts.

  ‘We went out to feed the chooks as usual,’ he said finally. ‘Me with the feed in a beach bucket, Granny Mu with her heavy pails and the shotgun under her arm.’ He grinned. ‘She carried that gun every time she left the house and was a bonzer shot too. My word, she could fair beat Dad at shooting cans off fence-posts, I can tell you.’

  ‘So what happened?’ Sophie needed him to keep talking. Needed the distraction from her thoughts.

  ‘We got to the hen house and found the wire had been burrowed under. There were chooks flapping all over the place, some of them mangled so bad Granny Mu had to wring their necks. She was furious, and after she’d repaired the wire, she stalked back to the stables and got out her horse and buggy. She was off to get the dingo that had killed her chooks. I raced after her. This would be an adventure. I loved riding in the buggy with Granny Mu. She drove faster than anybody else except Dad.’

  Sophie could picture it so well. The little boy and the elderly woman racing off across the grasslands, the child hanging on to the side of the buggy, his face alight with the excitement of the chase.

  ‘We spotted a dingo about five miles out and Granny Mu whipped the horse up. “Put a bullet up the spout, boy,” she yelled, tossing me the rifle. “We’ll get that no-good son of a gun, and no mistake.

  ‘We were so intent on chasing the dingo that neither of us noticed the deep fissure left behind by the winter rains. The horse swerved violently away from it, bringing the buggy up on to one wheel. We seemed to hang suspended in mid-air for a long time, but it was probably only a matter of seconds. Then we were tilting, hitting the hard earth with such a thud the buggy’s side split and the wheel snapped in two. I was young and light on my feet so I managed to jump clear. Granny Mu wasn’t so lucky.’ He paused as if the memory was hard to talk about.

  ‘The dust finally cleared and I found her lying on the ground in a heap. The remaining wheel was spinning as I crawled under it and tried to wak
e her. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t answer. Apart from being covered in dust, there wasn’t a mark on her.’

  Sophie’s heart went out to him. ‘You must have been very frightened. You were only a little boy.’

  He sadly shook his head. ‘Death’s no stranger out here, Sophie. I might only have been an ankle biter but I’d seen it before, and once I’d stopped snivelling I knew why Granny Mu would never wake up. I must have been quite a sight with my snotty nose and puffed up eyes as I galloped off on the horse to get help.’

  ‘Sounds like your Granny Mu wasn’t the sort to die quietly in her bed,’ she said gently.

  ‘Too right. She died as she’d lived – in a rush, with no care for the future and no thought for the consequences.’

  ‘An interesting woman,’ Sophie murmured. ‘I can see why Cordelia reminds you of her.’ She looked up at him. ‘Granny Mu? That’s a strange name – what’s it short for?’

  He grinned. ‘I wondered when you were going to catch on to that one,’ he said. ‘My great-grandmother was Muriel, the red-headed twin Rose gave birth to here in the Hunter Valley all those years ago.’

  Sophie stepped back. There must be something about storms which made people spill their secrets – and yet it was really no surprise, for if she thought about it sensibly, of course they were related. ‘We share the same great-great-great-grandmother?’

  His grin was wide, even white teeth gleaming against the darkness of his stubbled chin. ‘Too right. Rose couldn’t possibly have known what she started when she came out here to the Hunter, but here we are, the two sides of the family brought together again. Back where we belong.’

  ‘Wait on a minute,’ said Sophie, trying to grasp all the implications of this evening’s revelations. ‘Did you know this when we were in Brisbane? Is this damn’ family feud the reason we split up?’