Home Before Sundown

by Barbara Hannay

  It was plain ridiculous to be suddenly breathless. She stared at the damp patch on his shirt where she’d rammed him with the frosty ice-cream tub.

  ‘We need to clear the air, Bella.’

  Well, yes, that was certainly true. Maybe then she would be able to breathe. Pity she couldn’t make her voice work. She wished Gabe wasn’t standing quite so close.

  ‘I had second thoughts about coming over here today,’ he said. ‘But then I decided that staying away wouldn’t solve anything.’ He frowned as he folded his arms over his chest, unconsciously drawing her attention to its significant breadth.

  She remembered how good it had felt to lie there with her ear against his heart, listening to its steady beat, feeling his strong arms about her.

  ‘The past’s the past,’ he said. ‘Our short relationship––’

  ‘Our four-night stand.’

  Gabe stared at her, his eyes extra bright. His throat worked. ‘Was it only four?’ The question was little more than a whisper and in the silence that followed, his gaze dropped to Bella’s mouth.

  She thought her legs might give way.

  But then he gave a small shake and his face tightened. ‘Whatever,’ he said gruffly. ‘We’ve both moved on.’

  Moved on . . .

  Bella dragged her mind back from that perfect time in her past to the painful realities of everything that had happened since then.

  Gabe’s expression was once again grave as she nodded her agreement. Yes, she’d moved on to Anton. It shouldn’t be so difficult to remember Anton.

  ‘We have to work as neighbours now,’ Gabe went on. ‘At least for the time being, we should be able to set foot on each other’s property and help out without being snarled at.’

  ‘I didn’t snarl at you.’

  His smile was more sad than smug.

  Well . . . perhaps she had been snappy. ‘I’ve been pretty tense,’ she said defensively. ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind.’

  ‘I know that. I understand.’

  She was surprised by the gentleness in his tone.

  ‘Bella, I’m really sorry about your father.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She swallowed. ‘And I – I was very sorry about your dad, too.’

  She hadn’t planned to say that. The last time she’d tried to offer sympathy for his father’s death, Gabe hadn’t wanted to listen. It had hurt horribly that she couldn’t help him, that she hadn’t been able to get through to him.

  But she wouldn’t remind him of that now. It was water under the fridge as her dad would say, and, as Gabe had just so succinctly stated, they’d both moved on.

  ‘This couldn’t have happened at a worse time for you,’ Gabe said. ‘From all accounts you’ve been having a great time overseas.’ His eyes searched her face just a little too carefully. ‘I suppose you want to get back there as soon as you can.’

  ‘Sure. That’s the plan. It all depends on how quickly Dad gets better, of course.’

  For a terrible moment she almost said: I don’t have to go back.

  But how foolish and weak was that?

  Gabe wasn’t angling to resurrect their romance. And Bella certainly didn’t want to slip back into repeating her past mistakes. Right now she was clinging to Liz’s exit strategy and the pact they’d made. When this job was over, they were both going back to Europe.

  She’d left her horseshoe charm with Anton and she’d promised to go back to him. She was a girl who kept her promises. She’d never made promises to Gabe and he’d been silent on the promise front, too.

  There was no question of staying.

  As soon as her father’s health and the management of Mullinjim were sorted, she would head back overseas. Safely over there, she would look out for a proper job, something that used the business degree she’d studied for.

  Clearly it was time to end this conversation. She forced a smile. ‘We’d better hurry and get these things outside or the ice-cream will melt. Can you grab that tub?’

  She didn’t look at Gabe again as she collected the dessert bowls and spoons, so it was a bit of a shock when his voice sounded close by.

  ‘Just to get things clear, Bella.’

  Once again, she spun around quickly, but this time Gabe was at a safe distance.

  His grey eyes were sparkling reminding her of the Gabe light. ‘We’re friends again, aren’t we?’

  ‘Friends?’ It was the worst possible moment to feel the dangerous sting of tears. ‘Yes,’ she said, hastily dropping her gaze to the bowls in her hands. ‘Yes, of course, we’re friends.’

  Friends and neighbours, nothing more . . .

  A couple of hours ago this was all she’d wanted. Now, as she hurried outside, clutching the dessert bowls, she was blinking madly, praying the hot blast of afternoon heat would dry her tears before anyone noticed.

  19.

  It was late in the afternoon when Gabe and Roy drove home. The sun was low in the sky, sending sloping shadows across the track.

  Gabe usually enjoyed the slowly fading afternoon light, but today he felt as edgy and as moody as the clouds that gathered on the horizon.

  Unfortunately the clouds were not likely to drop rain. It was a familiar November pattern for North Queensland – rumbling, grey skies in the afternoons, building, building, but bringing no relief from the sweltering heat.

  No relief.

  Yeah, that was exactly how he felt. Perhaps restlessness was his new, permanent condition?

  Roy, on the other hand, was in fine fettle in the passenger seat beside him. He’d had a great time at Mullinjim, and having downed a stubbie or three, he was ready to yap at length about their outing.

  ‘Fabulous food, wasn’t it? Best steak I’ve had in a while. Wonderful company. And what about that joke Liz told? What a crack-up.’ Roy nudged Gabe’s elbow. ‘It could’ve happened, mate. I can just see a big, fancy, posh dinner party in London and an Aussie dropping a flaming clanger like that.’

  Gabe laughed along with Roy and he let the old fella have free rein as he recounted each detail, already adding his own embellishments. Roy’s story of a simple barbecue would grow grander with each retelling. No harm done. His audience would be small. The poor bugger didn’t have much of a social life.

  ‘That Bella’s a pretty little thing, game and gutsy on a horse, too, as I recall.’

  Gabe was edging the truck over a sandy jump-up as Roy dropped this gem of insight. To his intense embarrassment he missed a gear change and the engine stalled.

  Grabbing the handbrake before the truck slid backwards, he slipped the gear into neutral and re-fired the ignition. To his relief, Roy stopped talking as he put the gear in first, eased off the handbrake and accelerated carefully but steadily.

  The tyres spun in the sand. Damn.

  ‘You might have to roll back a bit and take the incline again,’ Roy suggested.

  Gabe nodded. This was exactly what he’d planned to do, but he accepted the advice graciously and this time, when he accelerated, the truck edged forward and cleared the top.

  ‘Interesting,’ Roy mused when they were once again rumbling along a firm track. ‘That girl still gets to you, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Gabe refused to favour his companion with a glance. ‘What the hell are you on about now?’

  ‘Bella Fairburn, of course.’

  ‘She doesn’t get to me.’

  No way would he admit the truth that he’d very nearly made a fool of himself this afternoon in the kitchen, fighting urges to back Bella against a cupboard and show her exactly how much he’d missed her.

  Roy snorted. ‘Blind Freddy can see how the land lies with you two.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’

  ‘Take it easy, Gabe. I wouldn’t speak up if I wasn’t worried about you.’

  ‘Well, stop worrying right now, old man. You wouldn’t have a flaming clue.’ Gabe was aware of his passenger’s hurt silence. Too bad. The old ringer had been a bachelor all his life. How the hell did he think h
e was even remotely qualified to offer comments about females or relationships?

  Driving on in silence, Gabe kept an eye on the cattle in the pad­docks on either side of the track. They were holding their condition, but only just. He was keeping the molasses and supplements up to them, but if this dry, hot spell went on for much longer, he should probably consider a partial destock.

  Ahead lay the wide, sandy riverbed. Stones rattled beneath the truck’s wheels as they crossed it, passing creamy-trunked paperbarks and bottlebrush bushes bent over by the floodwaters of countless wet seasons.

  ‘The thing is,’ Roy said suddenly as the track evened out again. ‘I’ve known you practically all your life, Gabe. And with your dad passing away and everything . . . well . . . I worry a bit, I guess.’

  ‘Thanks but I’m okay.’ Gabe said with quiet determination.

  ‘Yeah, I know you are. It’s just . . . ’ Roy’s thin brown fingers plucked nervously at a frayed hole in the knee of his jeans. ‘I wouldn’t want you to end up like me.’

  Gabe smiled. ‘I could do worse.’

  Roy shook his head.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I want to end up like you?’

  ‘Missing out, like.’

  ‘Sorry? Missing out?’

  ‘On a wife.’

  The old ringer’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his scrawny neck.

  Gabe hoped he didn’t look too surprised, but was old Roy admitting to a lost love? A broken heart? The thought sideswiped him. He had to slow down so he could concentrate.

  ‘You . . . ’ Gabe cleared his throat. ‘You wanted to marry someone?’

  ‘Only natural, isn’t it?’

  ‘I – I guess. Yes, of course it is. What happened? Did you actually propose?’

  ‘Not outright. Only in my head.’ Roy’s mouth twisted as if he was trying to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. ‘I never said anything to her face. I could never get the words out. But I should’ve. She used to give me the glad eye right enough. I was too damn bashful though. Too gutless.’

  ‘Jeez.’ Gabe slowed the truck to a standstill as he took this in. ‘That’s rough, mate. So . . . what happened?’

  ‘She married someone else, didn’t she? Married my best mate and had his four kids.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’ Gabe tried to remember a younger Roy, but he couldn’t get past the current image of the ageing, balding, wrinkled guy with skinny, freckled bandy legs. ‘How long ago did all this happen?’

  ‘Thirty, no, near on forty years ago.’ Roy was staring ahead through the windscreen, a picture of dejection. ‘It’s a damn long time to be lonely I can tell you.’

  ‘Do you ever see her now?’

  ‘Every time I go to town.’

  Hell. Could this get any worse? Roy’s former sweetheart lived in Gidgee Springs? Gabe’s mind raced through the tiny town’s sparse population, hunting for a woman about the right age. ‘Not Noreen? Noreen James?’

  Roy’s skinny face flushed. ‘Might be.’

  Noreen was a sunny, plump grandmother with snowy curls and a ready smile. She worked part-time in the general store and she’d been married to Kev, a retired stockman who had worked part-time at the pub as a gardener until his death about a year ago.

  Roy would be reminded of the woman he’d loved and lost every damn time he left Redman Downs.

  And here I’ve been, smugly assuming the poor bugger knew nothing about relationships.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Gabe said. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘Well, at least you know why I spoke up about Bella.’

  Bella again . . .

  Gabe’s only response was a shake of his head as he accelerated once again. They were nearly home and a minute or two later he pulled up at the front gate.

  Despite his sympathy for Roy, he needed to set the man straight. ‘There’s no need to worry about Bella and me, okay? If I have a problem with her, it’s certainly not shyness.’

  Roy was stubborn. ‘Doesn’t matter. A problem’s a problem. And if you don’t get it sorted now, you’ll have the rest of your life to chew over your mistakes. On your own.’

  To Gabe’s dismay, the old guy’s warning resonated, sounding a cold, lonely gong deep inside him. He shoved his uneasiness aside. For his sanity’s sake he had to.

  ‘Bella and I are just friends,’ he said. ‘We’ve known each other all our lives, and yeah, there was a time when we were pretty good friends. Close.’ He shook his head as if somehow the gesture strengthened his resolve. ‘But she has no plans to hang around and I have no plans to propose to her.’

  ‘More fool you,’ muttered Roy.

  Teeth gritted, Gabe opened the door and jumped out, slamming the door behind him. He’d had more than enough of this conversation. Circling the front of the truck, he met Roy as he was clambering down.

  ‘Look,’ he said, clasping the ringer’s shoulder. ‘You’ve said your piece, okay? I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you and Noreen, but she’s a widow now, so why don’t you take some of your own advice? Go to town and court her?’

  A dry, bitter laugh broke from Roy. ‘Yeah, right. As if she’d be interested in this old bag o’ bones.’

  Gabe sighed. If he tried to argue he could end up shooting himself in the foot. ‘Look, I appreciate your concern for me, but it’s misplaced, mate. As soon as Peter Fairburn’s back on deck, Bella will be off to Europe again, so you can relax.’

  He gave Roy’s shoulder a good-natured squeeze. ‘Give the matchmaking a spell. It’s not your strong suit.’

  All in all, it had been a successful day.

  Liz gave the last wine glass a polish with a tea towel and stowed it away, then leaned her hips against a cupboard, arms folded, surveying the tidied kitchen with a deep sense of satisfaction.

  She enjoyed entertaining, as long as she didn’t have to do too much cooking. In her London circles she was famous for her supper parties and no one minded that she hadn’t cooked the food. She provided very good wine, the finest selections from Harrods’ catering and a great mix of interesting guests and . . . voila!

  Here on isolated Mullinjim, she’d felt the beginnings of cabin fever, so today she’d relished having people round. She’d loved the conversations and the humorous exchanges. Cattlemen wanted to talk shop, of course, but no more than musicians did, and today there’d been plenty of talk about people as well as cattle. Locals, family members, celebrity gossip, a few homespun philosophies and the inevitable debates about politics.

  It was all very interesting. She’d had her ‘people fix’, and she knew she’d be okay.

  She wished she could say the same for Bella, she thought, as her niece came in from her final round of chores, pulled out a chair at the big pine table and flopped onto it.

  ‘Cuppa?’ Liz asked her.

  ‘Please.’

  While Liz filled the kettle and set it on the gas, she watched Bella out of the corner of her eye. She saw her pensive expression as she sat, examining the end of a long wavy tress of hair.

  ‘Split ends?’ Liz asked.

  Bella looked up, frowning. ‘What?’

  ‘I was teasing. You looked worried about your hair.’

  ‘Oh.’ Bella flicked the tawny strand back over her shoulder. ‘It probably needs a good trim, but no, I’m not worried.’

  ‘Not about your hair perhaps,’ Liz said gently. ‘But possibly about one of our guests?’

  Bella closed her eyes. ‘Don’t start please, Liz.’

  ‘Darling, I only . . . ’

  Her niece’s lips were trembling.

  The sight shocked and disturbed Liz. She couldn’t stay silent. ‘Bella, I know you and Gabe were up here in the kitchen for quite a long while. I almost sent in a search party. He didn’t upset you, did he?’

  ‘No.’ Bella drew a deep breath, clearly working hard to pull herself together. ‘He was fine. We – we were just clearing the air.’ She looked up, her green eyes glittering with more than a hint of sarcasm. ‘We’re friends again.’
>
  The kettle came to the boil and Liz turned it off, but she didn’t make the tea. She came and sat opposite Bella. ‘Friends again,’ she repeated. ‘Is that good news?’

  ‘Of course.’ Now Bella looked annoyed. ‘What a strange question. How could it be anything but good news?’

  With a helpless flap of her hands, Liz said, ‘It might be bad news if you were hoping for more than friendship.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Bella snapped. ‘Give it a miss, Liz. Don’t turn this into something it’s not. I’m perfectly happy that Gabe and I are friends again.’

  Liz decided that this was not a moment to back down. ‘That’s good to hear, darling, and I might believe you if you looked happy, but I can’t help feeling you’re terribly unhappy.’

  Bella glared at her. ‘Well, yes . . . of course I’m unhappy.’

  ‘Why?’

  For a moment her niece looked stubborn and resentful. Her eyes hunted around the room, almost like a sulky teenager, calculating the best answer to appease interfering parents. ‘I’m missing Anton,’ she said.

  ‘Anton?’ This was a surprise.

  ‘Yes. Anton Bazile. He is my boyfriend after all.’

  It was the first time Bella had mentioned her French boyfriend in ages.

  The chair scraped on the wooden floor as Bella stood up abruptly. ‘I miss him terribly and I want to send him an email.’

  With that, she hurried away.

  Liz called after her, ‘Shall I bring your tea through to the study?’

  She didn’t get an answer.

  20.

  Four days?

  Gabe had always thought it was five days, but Bella had insisted it was four.

  Admittedly his memories of the time in Townsville when they’d abandoned their responsibilities and carried on like honeymooners were overshadowed by the horror of the way it had ended.

  He and Bella had been so happy on that last day, happier than he’d ever imagined possible. They’d had an after-lunch swim in the motel pool, then they’d gone back to bed . . .

  He’d been roused by the low buzz of his mobile phone vibrating against the fake timber surface of the bedside table.