It wasn’t until Sophie reached to open the door that she realised her grandmother wasn’t travelling alone. ‘Jay,’ she breathed.
He unfurled his length from the car, and as the chauffeur helped Cordelia to her feet, came to stand beside Sophie. ‘I couldn’t stay away any longer,’ he said softly.
She smiled up at him, for once lost for words.
‘Let’s hope this time there won’t be a family quarrel to interrupt us.’ His eyes twinkled and laughter tugged the corners of the sensuous mouth.
‘We’re a fiery lot, the Witneys,’ she breathed.
‘Don’t I know it,’ he drawled. ‘Been on the end of one or two snipes myself.’
‘She looked down at his boots. They were scuffed and the leather had been stained red by the earth. ‘Sorry about that,’ she murmured. ‘But you shouldn’t play games with me – not when the stakes are so high.’
He was suddenly very close, and the electricity between them was tangible. ‘This isn’t a game, Sophie. Never has been.’
She looked up at him. Hope and disbelief made a strange brew of emotions. She so wanted it to be the truth – wanted to put the past behind her and begin again. ‘Then why, Jay? Why go off to France without a word? Why get your brother to take my calls? Why not write or contact me in all those years?’
His eyes held hers, his hand reaching out, drawing her closer until their breath mingled. She wanted him to kiss her. Wanted his lips on hers, his arms tight around her. Yet she needed answers before she could commit herself further. ‘Jay,’ she began, her hands pushing against his broad chest.
Her protest was abruptly cut off as he pulled her roughly to him and kissed her. Despite all her misgivings, and all the pain he’d caused, she melted into him, her legs almost refusing to hold her, the blood coursing like fire through her veins. She put her arms around his neck, her fingers buried in the thick black hair that curled just past the collar of his shirt. The surroundings faded, the world spun and nothing else existed but that joyous feeling of having come home.
He released her finally and held her at arm’s length. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that since the first moment you stepped down from the camper,’ he said with a sigh. ‘But you were so prickly, so distant, with a scowl fit to sour milk – I was scared to approach you.’
Sophie was still reeling. She hadn’t been kissed that thoroughly in years. ‘I didn’t know how things would be between us,’ she said, the tremor in her voice betraying her inner turmoil. ‘I was furious with Gran for taking me to Coolabah, and determined not to let you see how much I was still hurting. When you deliberately seemed to be ignoring me, I decided two could play that game,’ she finished.
He cupped her chin, tilting it so she would have to look into his eyes. ‘Hurt you? How did I do that, Sophie? It was you who finished it between us, and until that morning we met in the bush and you got all tangled up in your hat, I thought you no longer felt anything for me.’
She pulled away. She couldn’t think straight when he was that close. ‘What do you mean? You stopped writing – not me.’
Jay frowned, his gaze thoughtful as he looked down into her face. ‘I admit you were the last to write,’ he said finally. ‘But after reading that letter, there seemed no point in replying. I’d lost you. I had to get on with my life and leave you to yours.’
Her pulse was hammering. ‘What letter?’ she demanded.
‘The typed letter from Jacaranda Towers,’ he said warily. ‘Even for a “dear John” it was harsh.’
Sophie clutched his hands, her nails digging into the flesh as suspicions took form. ‘What was in that letter, Jay? Can you remember?’
‘It doesn’t matter, Sophie. It was a long time ago. We’ve found each other again, that’s all that matters.’
‘Fair bloody go, Jay! There’s been a great deal of harm done. Now tell me. I have to know what was in that letter.’
He chewed his lip. ‘I remember every bloody word,’ he said grimly. ‘It wasn’t long, but the message was clear enough.’
This is to tell you I’ve met someone else and by the time you get this letter I shall be married. Don’t contact me again. Thanks for the memories.
Sophia
Sophie swayed and had to clutch his arm for support. The suspicions were crowding in, clamouring to be heard – but they made no sense, no sense at all.
‘It arrived as I was packing. I was on my way to Melbourne to ask you to marry me and come to France with me. The engagement ring was new and shiny in my pocket. When I read that awful letter I went out into the paddock and threw the ring as hard as I could into the bush. I never bothered to try to find it afterwards.’
‘I didn’t write that letter,’ she whispered tearfully. ‘I would never have written that letter – least of all signed it Sophia. You should have known something was wrong.’ The tears were streaming down her face as she looked up at him. ‘There was no other man – no wedding – not for another four years. That long silence was terrible, Jay. I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong. Couldn’t understand why you’d gone off to France without a word of explanation.’
He enfolded her in his embrace, held her to his chest and rocked her. ‘If only I’d known,’ he murmured. ‘If only I’d caught the next plane out and come to see you. Asked you face to face why you were marrying someone else. I should have fought for you – should have made sure.’
Sophie snuggled against his chest. ‘Why didn’t you?’ She rather liked the thought of him racing across Australia, just as John had crossed the world looking for Rose.
‘Dad told me it was best to leave things as they were. He said a man should never plough the same field twice and there had been enough trouble between the two sides of the family. Me storming into the middle of a wedding ceremony wouldn’t have helped. Grandad Wal was more philosophical. He said that sometimes things work out in a most unexpected way and I should wait. If it was meant to be, then it would happen.’
She sniffed. She was making his shirt wet with her tears but he didn’t seem to mind. ‘How right he was,’ she said softly. ‘And how crafty Gran’s been. I wonder if she knew and was trying to make amends? She said some pretty strange things when we were back in Coolabah – hinting not everything was as black and white as we thought.’
He stroked her hair, calming her as he would a half-wild pony. ‘I think she does know, but I’m certain that letter was none of her doing.’
‘It was Jock,’ said a weary voice.
Sophie turned within Jay’s embrace. They had forgotten Cordelia’s presence, so wrapped up in each other.
‘He sent that letter but I didn’t find out until years later and as Sophie was married by then it was too late to do anything about it. I thought it best to leave things to sort themselves out. It looks as if I was right.’
Sophie looked at the elderly woman she loved so much. ‘But what about the letters I sent to Jay trying to get an answer?’
‘Jock had the maid take all your mail to him before she posted it. I suspect he destroyed your letters.’
‘But why? What did he have to gain?’
‘He could see how intelligent and ambitious you were. Could see a fine career in corporate law for you. He didn’t want to lose a potential asset to his business. Didn’t want you going off to get married to a man he considered beneath you. That’s why he changed the habits of a lifetime and allowed one of his “girls” go to university. He chose London because it was out of reach.’
‘Spiteful old bastard,’ growled Jay.
‘Forget him,’ Sophie whispered as she turned back to him. And as his kiss swept all thoughts of treachery away, she thought she heard the rustle of skirts and the joyous crescendo of a Romany fiddle. The Jacaranda rift was finally healed, the curse banished.
Epilogue
It was winter in Sussex as the dawn of the new millennium lightened the horizon and turned the mist pick and orange. Jay and Sophie stood on Windover Hill, their hands clasped as the chu
rch bells began to peal in the valley.
The past three years had brought them success as well as sorrow, with the co-operative up and running, and her own flourishing chambers finally organised in Sydney. Life might have been hectic, but she and Jay were blissfully happy. Her relationship with Jane had evolved into a close and loving one – yet Cordelia would always remain in her heart as her true grandmother, and the revelations made during that journey across Australia had never changed that.
Mary was almost over her breakdown and at last trying to come to terms with life, having forged a surprising bond with Philip. She and Sophie had also called a truce, but there was too much water under the bridge for them to find the mother-daughter closeness that Sophie yearned for. Perhaps the news that Mary would soon be a grandmother might go some way towards healing the old rifts?
Cordelia had passed away, as Rose had done, in her sleep. It had been the eve of her ninety-second birthday, and she had been surrounded by the sounds and scents of Jacaranda – at peace with her re-united family. Her passing had left a great void for Sophie, but she firmly believed her spirit would always remain by her side.
‘I’m glad we came,’ Sophie murmured as the light began to chase the shadows from the Long Man of Wilmington. ‘It somehow brings the story of Rose and John full circle.’
Jay kissed her cold cheek and put his arms around her. ‘Our roots are here, and it’s almost as if I can feel their presence.’
And as they stood there in the chill of an English winter and watched the dawn of the new millennium bring light and colour to the world, Sophie felt the baby move in her womb. She smiled as she remembered the words of the Aborigine Wyju. The song lines had been laid across the world, linking the past to the present with each sacred site, each new generation – they had simply gone walk-about, and were following in the footsteps of their ancestors.
Available from July 2013
1920. Having disobeyed the wishes of her aristocratic family, Lulu Pearson, a young and talented Tasmanian sculptress, finds herself alone in London in the wake of the Great War. The future is looking bright until, on the eve of her first exhibition, Lulu learns she has inherited a racing colt called Ocean Child from a mysterious benefactor, and she must return to her homeland to claim him.
Baffled by the news, Lulu boards a ship to Tasmania to uncover the truth behind the strange bequest, but it seems a welcome return is more than she can hope for. Unbeknownst to Lulu, more than a few fortunes ride on Ocean Child's success - it seems everyone from her estranged mother to the stable hands has a part to play, and an interest in keeping the family secrets buried.
Available from:
www.quercusbooks.co.uk
Jacaranda Vines Page 40
