by Cathryn Hein
Vanessa lifted her chin and sniffed. ‘That was a civil union, so technically never a marriage.’
‘Marriage or not, you didn’t do too badly out of it.’
‘Timoteo was very generous, but that’s the sort of man he is.’
‘What a life you’ve had.’ Bunny looked despondently at the door. ‘And here’s me, stuck in a nowhere village, spending my days poking fingers up animal’s dates when what I should be doing is swanning around Europe collecting rich husbands.’
‘It wasn’t all it sounds.’
Bunny lifted a pale eyebrow.
Vanessa grinned. ‘Oh, all right. It was fun.’
Except that wasn’t strictly the truth. Most of the time, when the thrill of whirlwind romance had worn off, she’d discovered what a whore must feel like. She’d been young, a stupid romantic who believed in fairytales and the sweet whispers of her lovers. She’d married because she believed they loved her as much as she loved them. Instead, Vanessa had turned not into an equal, but into a wealthy man’s trophy. An alluring but untouchable purchase to be paraded on their arm when it suited, while they continued to do what they pleased. Until Timoteo, love had never been on their agenda.
Some days were enormously exciting. Vanessa travelled extensively, met fascinating and sometimes powerful people, wore beautiful, tailored clothes and lived between a series of incredible country and city houses that boasted both staff and spectacular scenery. She skied the French or Italian Alps in winter, yachted the Mediterranean in summer. She even had amazing sex, for the men she fell for were alpha males who took great pride in everything they did. Other days were pure heartbreak and despair. It took Timoteo to make her realise how short she was selling herself, how vacant her rich life really was.
As her fortieth birthday rushed closer, Vanessa began to desire more than parties and endless travel. She wanted a normal home, full of laughter, her own and her children’s. Although he already had near-adult offspring from a previous marriage, Timoteo did his best to grant her that wish but their ages, and his hectic business schedule, worked against them. When their attempts at pregnancy failed, Vanessa realised she’d left it too late, an understanding that left her tired and, for the first time in twenty years, longing for the relaxed comfort and freedom of Australia. With deep sadness, Timoteo had let her go. It had taken some searching but thanks to him, his generosity and kindness, she’d eventually found The Falls and with it peace with herself.
Admirers existed here, too, but at least she felt safe and had the strength to fend them all off. Even Domenic who, with his dark-blond sexiness, chisel-jawed determination and easy masculinity, made her nostrils flare with want and her heart thud with longing.
She gathered up Saffy’s lead. ‘Thanks. Why don’t you come around for drinks later this week?’
‘Can you invite Lucas, too?’
‘Darling, you wouldn’t be able to handle him.’
Bunny’s shoulders slumped. ‘You’re right. I wouldn’t. I’d probably lay there stroking him like a puppy and then fall asleep.’
‘Never mind. There’s always Mark.’ She stood on tiptoe to kiss Bunny’s cheek. ‘Thursday for sangria?’
‘Okay, unless . . .’ She flicked a hand towards the examination table. ‘You know.’
‘I know.’ Vanessa knew not to hold Bunny to anything.
With a sympathetic parting smile she urged Saffy forward with her shin, pleased to see the dog’s limp had eased considerably. Janice, Bunny’s rather frightening old-school receptionist, had the bill already made up. Vanessa paid with a smile that wasn’t returned. Like many older married women in the village whose husbands had taken to dropping into Falls Farm, Janice wasn’t a fan.
Vanessa kept her head high and her smile in place. It wasn’t her fault they visited. She didn’t encourage any of them beyond politeness. She didn’t flirt or do anything that could possibly be construed as husband stealing. Nor, since moving to The Falls, had she ever indulged in a single relationship with anyone remotely local. Yet the siren reputation stuck.
Outside, she breathed in deliciously bread-scented air. The village shops were designed in a horseshoe. Bunny’s practice took up one end, the bottle shop the other. Between them thrived a bakery, a butcher, a newsagent, a doctor’s surgery, a chemist, and a small IGA supermarket. Further down the road was an aging service station, the Rural Fire Brigade and the town’s bowling club, which also served as headquarters for the local cricket and rugby teams.
She caught a ‘Ciao, bella!’ and turned to see Antonio waving to her from the door of the newsagency.
She waved back only to see his cheerful smile collapse. Like a mouse skittering into its hole, Tony darted back into the shop, leaving her waving at nothing. Her smile thinned. She didn’t need to look to know what had happened.
Bending to give Saffy a quick pat, Vanessa determinedly set a pleasant expression then straightened and turned. ‘Kathleen, how are you?’
The old lady regarded her with a frosty expression. As a widow in her seventies the woman shouldn’t have cared a whit about competition, yet Vanessa always felt as though they were in one. ‘I’m well. And yourself?’
‘Can’t complain. Though poor Saffy would think otherwise, I’m sure.’
They both regarded the dog. Saffy ignored them. Her big brown pleading eyes were focused longingly on the bakery door.
‘No,’ said Vanessa.
The dog glanced at her, furry eyebrows drawing together in a canine aww, Mum.
‘One sausage roll won’t hurt.’ Without waiting for a reply, Kathleen Ferguson wheeled and strode purposely back to her bakery.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ hissed Vanessa, but Saffy was already straining at her leash. Vanessa hated denying animals, and the dog had suffered Bunny’s treatment admirably. She held up a finger. ‘One. And you’d better eat it fast.’
Saffy gave her a loopy-tongued grin that spoke of ‘as if there was any other way’.
She followed Kathleen’s ramrod-straight back across the carpark. It was quiet, that lull between morning smoko and the lunch rush and, except for the spaces in front of Bunny’s and the doctor’s, the carpark was barely occupied. Vanessa tied up Saffy outside the bakery, hitched her handbag up onto her shoulder and pushed through the vinyl fly strips protecting the entrance.
Kathleen was behind the counter, already retrieving a sausage roll from the warmer. Vanessa made a show of inspecting the pastry display cabinets. The vanilla slices looked impressively thick. A bit of creamy custard would do Teagan good.
‘I suppose you’ve heard?’ said the old lady.
‘Heard what?’
‘That man’s plans.’
Vanessa feigned innocence. ‘What plans would they be?’
‘Apparently, he wants to build a giant brick wall around the place so we can’t see what he does there.’ She tapped her nose. ‘I know though.’ She angled forward conspiratorially and dropped her voice, lips pursed. ‘Enemas.’
‘Isn’t that what the late Princess of Wales practised?’
The pucker deepened. Kathleen Ferguson was a true royalist, having curtsied as a girl to the Queen during her 1954 Australian tour. The thought of a princess having an enema was something she would never want to contemplate. Vanessa suspected that Kathleen believed royals never needed the loo.
‘Completely different,’ Kathleen snapped, sliding the paper-wrapped sausage roll across the counter. ‘Her Royal Highness went to a private practitioner, not some unregulated so-called clinic overrun with drug-addled pop stars.’
‘The centre is open to the public. Perhaps you could book in for a day spa and see for yourself what goes on. I’ll take two vanilla slices as well, thank you.’
Vanessa was usually careful not to take sides when it came to Domenic and his Wellness Centre, but today the insinuation that he was running some sort of dodgy enterprise rankled. Domenic was a businessman whose only belief was in profit. Something the Wellness Centre excelle
d at generating and not something he would put at risk through unethical practices.
‘And have my brain washed? I think not.’ Kathleen sniffed and snatched up a pair of pastry tongs, opening and closing them in a series of vicious nips. ‘I’d rather be dead than give a single penny to that man.’
It would take more than a penny to get into the Wellness Centre. While the centre was open to anyone who could pay, very few had the means. The prices were exorbitant. Vanessa had been several times, each a birthday or Christmas gift from Domenic. At first she’d been too curious about the facilities and treatments on offer not to accept. Afterwards, the sheer indulgence of it kept her going back. Plus she’d made sure they were kept even with return gifts.
‘Domenic has done quite a bit for the community. The rugby club would’ve folded without his sponsorship.’
‘Rubbish. They would’ve found another sponsor.’
Vanessa handed over a note and gathered up her goods. She’d had enough. ‘I’m sorry, I really have to dash. Saffy had a rather stressful visit to Bunny. I should get her home.’
As she gave her the change, Kathleen’s hand gripped hers. ‘We must stop him.’
‘It’s just a fence, Kathleen.’
‘It’s a start,’ she replied, nodding knowingly. ‘That’s what the people of Dachau used to tell themselves about the camp fence.’
When things deteriorated to mentioning the Nazis it was definitely time to leave. Vanessa tugged her hand free and with a tight smile walked out rapidly. She stopped beside Saffy and breathed in hard, only faintly registering the dog’s excited nudges.
Kathleen Ferguson was the bellwether of the village. If she was getting worked up about a brick fence and invoking the Nazi clause, there was no telling what she’d be like when she heard about the expansion.
Life in The Falls was about to get very entertaining indeed.
Teagan rubbed a grimy forearm across her forehead. Despite the mild morning, she was sweaty and it wasn’t pleasant. Her pores leached a disagreeable combination of sour margarita, horse, dead possum and ancient dust.
Lucas had departed as cheerfully as he’d arrived, leaving her with nothing to do except to return to the verandah and the cane chair. She’d tried to relax with her aunt’s copy of The Falls Express, but after a few minutes had become fidgety. The last time Teagan had sat around doing nothing was over a year ago, and that had only been because she’d had the flu and could hardly raise the energy to shuffle to the toilet.
Now here she was, a glorious mid-August day, healthy-ish if you ignored the hangover, and with not a thing to do beyond fantasising about Lucas Knight’s deliciously taut muscles and cheeky winks. Except there was plenty. And it was making her twitchy.
Which was why, after using her nose to track down the source of Saffy’s decaying scent roll and burying it, Teagan was now rummaging through Vanessa’s shed looking for fencing tools. In half an hour, all she’d managed was to become filthy. Apart from Merlin, who scarcely counted, the place appeared to be devoid of anything remotely farm related.
Annoyed, she left the shed to check the merino’s water. The stupid animal had knocked his bucket over but that hadn’t really surprised her. The ram should be out in a paddock instead of locked in a horse yard, but none of the paddocks appeared sheep proof. Claudia’s was probably the best of the lot, but Teagan wasn’t sure about putting a ram in with the horse, especially one recovering from laminitis. What if Merlin became aggressive and attacked her? One bunt and Claudia could fracture a cannon bone. Then there’d be no saving her.
‘What are we going to do with you?’ she asked the ram, but Merlin was too busy headbutting the gate. The gate was timber and attached to the gatepost via two hinges. With each collision the bolts rattled and bounced. The top bolt had already slid out far enough to be at risk of falling out. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if he knew. Impossible. Sheep had brains the size of peas.
Sighing, she headed back to the shed, this time in search of a hammer to pound the bolt back into place, only to pause at the sound of an approaching car.
‘Darling!’ yelled Ness through the wound-down window of her sporty Alfa, before grunting as Saffy climbed onto her lap and hung out her golden head in flappy-tongued greeting. With effort, Ness pushed the dog back onto the passenger seat.
Teagan sauntered over. ‘How did she go?’
‘Fine.’ Ness reached behind to the rear and held up some paper bags. ‘Come have morning tea.’ She suddenly registered Teagan’s state. ‘Goodness, what have you been up to?’
‘Looking for fencing gear.’ Merlin’s gate gave another loud clank. ‘And a hammer.’
Vanessa’s eyes widened, her mouth popping as she clearly envisioned a swift bonk on the head for her ram.
‘Not for that. Although it is tempting after what he did to my ute.’ Teagan gestured towards the yard. ‘The hinge bolts are loose.’
‘Oh, yes.’ The threat to Merlin over, Ness returned to cheerful pride. ‘It’s a trick he’s learned.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Mmm. He’s a clever thing, for a sheep. Probably why he was named Merlin.’
At the sound of his name Merlin released a throaty baa. Teagan regarded the ram with grudging admiration.
‘Leave him,’ said Ness. ‘He’ll be fine. Come up to the house. I bought you a vanilla slice to go with your coffee. They make decent pastries at the bakery.’
Teagan stepped aside as her aunt parked in the shed and alighted, Saffy following. The dog yelped as she landed on her sore paw.
‘Serves you right,’ Teagan said, crouching to give the animal a comforting hug. She cupped Saffy’s snout and regarded her eye to eye. ‘That’s what happens when you go digging up dead possums.’
Saffy rewarded her with a lick on the chin and happy dog grin that made Teagan laugh and ruffle Saffy’s ears, and wish human wrong-doings were so easily forgiven.
‘Is that what it was?’ said Ness, gathering her bag off the seat and joining Teagan. They crossed the yard, the sunshine warm and sweet. ‘Poor thing. I wonder what killed it.’
‘Probably a fox or cat.’ Teagan threw Blanche a suspicious look as she passed, but the ugly creature took no notice. The cat was too busy observing Betty and Wilma. It was unlikely to be her anyway. Blanche seemed more of a house cat, and too small and thin-skinned to take on a clawed possum, whereas a defenceless guinea pig was perfectly sized.
‘The farrier was here earlier,’ Teagan said when they had their coffees and were back on the verandah. She wondered if Ness ever used the back deck. It was beautiful out there, private and peaceful, but for some reason her aunt preferred the front of the house.
‘Oh good. He’s a lovely boy.’ Ness gave her a pointed sideways glance. ‘Very decorative.’
‘Bit of a wanker though, isn’t he?’ probed Teagan, torn between hoping he was and the feeling that he wasn’t. The more she’d chatted to him the more normal and unaffected he’d seemed, to the point where she’d found herself liking him. Quite a lot, which was not an ideal outcome. It’d be nice to have her initial impression proved right and to have a reason to push those muscles and cheeky grin out of her head.
‘Lucas?’ Ness blinked several times.
Teagan forced herself to take a bite of vanilla slice. She’d never been a fan of the squishy custardy treat, but she didn’t want to appear ungrateful after Vanessa’s thoughtfulness, and eating gave her time to think of a way to respond to her aunt’s incredulity. She swallowed, surprised to find the slice wasn’t bad. ‘He was all oiled up. And those teeth.’
Ness laughed and tore off a flaky piece of pastry for Saffy. ‘I think you’ll find that’s sunscreen. As for his teeth, aren’t they amazing?’ Her expression turned slightly dreamy. ‘If only I was twenty years younger.’
‘He did make a point of saying he had a thing for redheads.’
‘Did he?’ Ness appeared genuinely astonished. ‘He’s never mentioned it.’
‘Anothe
r one for your fan club?’
‘Might I remind you, Teagan darling, that you are also a fine redhead.’
‘Who doesn’t have your assets.’ Teagan poked a finger into the yellow filling of her slice and gouged out a lump. She inspected the creamy sample before scraping it on the side of her plate, her interest suddenly gone. ‘He said I was too skinny.’
Her aunt frowned then quickly smiled when she caught Teagan noticing. ‘He was telling the truth. But we’ll work on that.’ She took a sip of coffee. ‘He’s single, you know.’
‘Figures.’
Vanessa’s eyebrows shot up.
‘Necklace, over-pumped body. Has to be gay.’
Her aunt spluttered into her latte glass. ‘Lucas? Gay? I would wager my car that man is a more red-blooded heterosexual than Merlin.’
Heterosexual. Bugger. Surely he had faults? Like kinky sex fiendishness or something.
‘Bound to be a man-whore then.’
Ness let out a long sigh. ‘Teagan, Teagan, Teagan, what on earth has made you so cynical?’
Teagan stared at the eucalypt treetops, thinking of Pinehaven, of the thick-trunked old gums lining the drive to the house, a symbol of its solidity and permanence. How, when her brother was still at home, the place used to be. Productive, lush, envied. Her home. A home her dad had effectively gambled away.
She shrugged and turned her head, not wanting Ness to see the build-up of tears in her eyes as she remembered the acres of prime grazing land gone to ruin. The way the kangaroos from the adjacent State Forest barely bothered to cross the boundary to feed anymore. The absolute heartbreak of it all.
‘Darling,’ said Ness, reaching across to touch her shoulder, ‘it’ll be okay.’
‘Sure it will.’ She cleared her throat and forced herself to sound upbeat. ‘I thought I could do a few things around the place. Repair a few fences.’ She tilted her head towards the creek. ‘That paddock could do with slashing, too, and that woody weed looks like trouble.’
Ness pursed her lips. ‘You’re here to relax not work.’
