Francey stood on the verandah watching. She blinked a couple of times and shook her head in amazement. All this fuss for her! Beyond the pool she could see the lights of the mini conference centre glowing through the pines. The rooms were being put to good use to accommodate overnight guests and the kitchen was busy preparing supper. Two spits were already turning with sides of beef and lamb and along the verandah were long trestle tables covered in table cloths on which supper would later be served.
“What are you doing? Hiding?” CJ came up and put his arm around her shoulders. “You’re the star attraction. Come on,” he took hold of her hand. “There’s some people, neighbours from up Camooweal way I’d like you to meet. They were very impressed with the way you got the workers at the Cloncurry abattoirs on side.”
Francey turned to look at him and, as she did, it was hard not to show her surprise at his changed appearance. The operation and treatment in Geneva had cost him. There was the scar, of course and most of his hair had fallen out. He’d lost close to ten kilos in weight, which made him look trimmer and, thank goodness, his colour had returned. He was so different to how he’d been when he’d first got back — a pale and exhausted old man. Tonight, in his dinner suit, he looked almost like the CJ of old and she was glad.
“Something the matter?” he asked.
She smiled and improvised. “I didn’t expect you to be wearing a dinner suit. Very impressive.”
“Couldn’t fit into it before but now I’ve lost some weight, I thought I’d give it an airing.”
“You look splendid.”
“As do you, my dear,” he said gallantly, smiling at her lie. “Shall we?”
The party was in full swing by the time Natalie and Trish made their appearance. For most of the afternoon Natalie had threatened to boycott the event, and had planned to claim she had a dreadful headache. Only Trish’s skilful diplomacy had turned her around. She’d said that it was poor tactics to be seen to be hurt by the way CJ was spoiling Francey and that it wouldn’t be wise to let people assume that she was jealous of the birthday girl. Nor would it be smart to let CJ sense it. Now more than ever he seemed inclined to make the occasional comparison between Francey and Natalie in which his stepdaughter usually came off second-best.
Natalie, standing on the fringe of the crowd and exquisitely outfitted in an ice blue short skirt cocktail frock of pure silk with a matching stole, displayed the elegance of the wealthy woman she was. Trish, too, looked stunning in a pink shot satin number that Natalie’d bought for her.
Les Westcott, who mostly gave Natalie a wide berth, was inordinately attentive. He organised their drinks and their hors d’oeuvre and made polite chitchat. When the conversation dropped to a lull, their gazes became jointly glued on the tableau of Steve Parrish and Francey dancing together.
“Make a nice couple, don’t they?” Natalie said to Les with tongue-in-cheek sweetness. Instinct told her he wanted Francey Spinetti for himself. She saw a naked hunger glint in his eyes every time he glanced Francey’s way. He could hide it from most but not from her, she knew him too well. He’d looked the same when he’d fancied her. Poor old Les, he tended to let his feelings show too much which made it easy to hurt him. Child’s play, really. She went on. “They’re very familiar with each other, aren’t they? Like lovers.”
“How would you know? Your experience in a heterosexual relationship is zero, isn’t it?” he countered. “Who was your first? That half-caste Aboriginal girl, Sally? Or was it Louise McReady from your boarding school?”
Natalie, pleased that she’d hit him where it hurt, refused to rise to the bait. She pouted. “Now, now, don’t be a bad sport. That’s discriminatory, you know.” Silently though she answered him. Both, Les dear, both. First Louise. They’d discovered each other when they were in the school infirmary suffering from influenza — they’d been isolated so the germs wouldn’t spread through the entire dormitory. The house mistress used to check on them every few hours. Remembering made her go all shivery inside. She and Louise had had a wonderful time discovering each other’s bodies for the first time. Then, while on school holidays in Murrundi’s hay loft one drizzly afternoon she had shown Sally what extracurricular activities she had learnt.
“What’s discriminatory?” Shellie asked as she and Barry joined the group.
“Oh, nothing that would interest you, dear,” Trish rushed in. “Just talking politics. Boring stuff.”
“Have you met the Minister for Primary Industry?” Shellie asked Trish. “He’s an interesting man. There might be an article about country life in it for you.”
“No. I …”
Shellie threaded her arm through Trish’s. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Natalie smiled indulgently as the two women and the doctor walked away. Her Aunt Shellie sure was a try-hard. Then her sharp gaze noticed a man she didn’t readily recognise. Curiosity got the better of her. “Who’s that?” she asked Les, pointing discreetly towards the stranger.
“That’s Roy Preston. A journalist. One of CJ’s acquaintances.”
“I haven’t seen him at Murrundi before.” Over the years she had met most of CJ’s friends and business colleagues but not the tall, spare man, probably in his early sixties and dressed in a grey lounge suit. She wondered if Trish knew him and stored the query away in her mind to ask later on.
“They go back a long way, to when CJ first bought this place. Roy knew your mother. Was an old flame, in fact.”
“Really! Fascinating. You must introduce me.”
Les gave her a strange, almost secretive look. “I’d be glad to, a bit later on if it’s all right with you. There’s something pressing I have to do for CJ.” And with that he turned on his heel and walked away. All the way around the pool he felt her indignant stare follow him and he smiled as if he were privy to some huge joke. Soon, Natalie, soon.
About nine thirty, after the band had finished a set and were taking a ten minute break, CJ stepped up on the makeshift stage and commandeered the microphone. He saw before him a sea of faces, some still clustered around the flagstone patio where they’d been dancing, others in small groups, laughing and talking. Francey, he noted, was talking to Lisa Dupre and her husband Pierre.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Murrundi. I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves. Tonight is a very special night. We’re celebrating the birthday of the newest member of my team, the architect who designs all my new projects. Where are you, Francey? Come up on stage and take a bow.”
Reluctantly Francey moved towards the stage and did just that, speaking quietly into the microphone. “Thank you all for coming and sharing this night with me but especially, thanks to my boss, CJ, who’s so generously organised tonight. Enjoy!” She jumped down from the stage as quickly as she could and made her way over to where Steve was talking to Mike Hunter and Lucky Pajello.
Steve took her hand and squeezed it. “You were great. See, I told you it wouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Folks,” CJ went on. “There’s a twofold reason for me inviting you here tonight. You just heard one reason, now it’s time for the other. Bear with me, ‘cause it’s going to take some getting out.
“Most of you have known me since I bought Murrundi. A few of you knew me before that, when I was a bum out of my pants jackeroo scratching around for a living. None of you,” and he looked briefly at his sister, “know about a certain episode in my life which started me on the road to success in one way, and damned me in another. I’m talking about the time I spent in Coober Pedy, nearly twenty-nine years ago.
“I scored big in an opal mine. That’s public knowledge and it gave me the grub stake to get this place.” He waved his free hand around expansively to encompass the property. “What no-one knows is the secret I’ve kept all these years because I’ve not been proud of it. Now I feel compelled to tell you, to tell the world, in fact.”
Trish and Natalie, standing side by side, their arms touching, glanced enquiringly at each other.
“This might be a scoop. You’d better listen up. I’m just praying he’s not going to announce his engagement to the bitch,” Natalie hissed.
Trish doubted that very much but she refrained from saying so. “Do you have any idea?”
“None whatsoever,” Natalie replied with a forced chuckle. What was he up to? she wondered. She knew him. When he performed these type of theatrics it was usually to announce the completion of a big deal. Maybe that was it, but what on earth did it have to do with his time in Coober Pedy? She remembered that he’d rarely spoken about that episode in his life and she had always assumed it was because he’d been broken up about his partner Mickey Edgar’s death. But … maybe there was more to it.
“I’ve only ever loved two women in my life,” CJ went on, his sentences quickening as he strove to get through it. “Brenda, my late wife, was one such love and there was another. Way back in those Coober Pedy days I met a young woman, she was much younger than myself. Her name was Mary Williams. She was like an oasis in a desert — and if you’ve ever worked Coober you’ll understand what I mean. We fell in love and had an affair. Mary Williams was too good for me, ‘cause back then all I thought about was making money and of getting a stake to set myself up in Queensland. I wasn’t prepared to make the kind of commitment Mary expected. Well, I found my stake in the bounty of opals and I decided to leave — yes — leave. Leave Mary, sell the mine lease. I had what I wanted and, at the time I also had a fiancée, Brenda, waiting for me in Townsville. Brenda fitted into my future plans and I knew she’d be an asset as a wife.
“Bear with me, folks, this prelude is important. You’ll see why in a couple of minutes.” He paused to wipe a layer of perspiration from his forehead. Damn it, saying the words was hard, but not as hard as what he was about to say. “Then Mary told me she was pregnant.”
A shiver ran through Natalie’s body accompanied by a sense of foreboding. God, she had this awful feeling … Unconsciously she pressed closer to the one person who truly understood her, silently communicating her affection.
“He got a woman pregnant,” Trish whispered. “What’s so rare about that?”
“Shut up,” Natalie spat at her. Her concentration was focused on the man on the stage. The man she’d always been in awe of, was afraid of and had never been close to or won his affection, though in her own odd way she believed she had tried.
“I was angry with her but please, understand, I did love her. You all know what a ruthless bastard I am.” He paused to hear the ripple of agreement from the crowd. “Mary didn’t fit into my dreams or my future plans. No sir. I had it all mapped out. Marry Brenda deWitt, buy a property, amass a fortune. Mary was so young. Guileless, unsophisticated, and a kid hanging about my legs would have only held me back.”
CJ heard another low murmur from the hundred or so people staring at him attentively and, needing to finish, he rushed on. “I wanted her to get an abortion but she refused. We fought over it and then I left Coober Pedy for good. But I sent her enough money to see her through comfortably. Why am I telling you all this, baring my soul, you might ask. When my son was killed last year, for the first time in many years I thought about Mary and the child. Our child. I wondered what he or she was like. Got a huge case of the guilts, I guess. I wanted to find them and try to right the wrong I’d done both of them so long ago. I didn’t want anyone to know so I asked a friend of mine, Roy Preston, to make discreet enquires. Roy, perhaps you’ll come up and tell the folks what happened.”
Roy Preston made his way to the front of the crowd and then stepped up on the stage. He cleared his throat nervously before he spoke into the microphone. “My friend, CJ, loves to give me the easy jobs.” He paused while some of the crowd gave a short laugh of appreciation. “Tracking Mary Williams and her child back to 1970 was an investigative nightmare. The task took many weeks. I learnt that she’d moved to Adelaide, where she worked in a shop but made few friends. When her child was born, a little girl named Jennifer, Mary was already a sick woman. She had leukaemia and she passed away within three months of Jennifer’s birth. The child was adopted by a couple who couldn’t have children of their own.” He paused to let that sink in. “Then the trail went cold. The couple seemed to disappear into God knows where. But, finally, after some persistent digging, I traced them to Melbourne and to Geelong and finally to Sydney, where they still live.” As an aside, he added, “I’ve all the documentation — birth certificate, adoption letters, everything legally needed to prove that Jennifer is CJ’s natural child, should anyone want to peruse them later on.”
Impatient, CJ took the microphone back. “I was excited by Roy’s news. I’d found out I had a daughter. I wanted to get to know her — and I did. I guess, in a way, I hoped she’d replace the son I’d lost. I’ve always believed that blood’s thicker than water.” A twinkle came into his light-blue eyes as he milked the audience’s air of expectancy. “I guess you’re all wondering who she is. She doesn’t know yet and I hope it’s not going to be too much of a shock to find she’s related to an old reprobate like me …”
“For Christ’s sake, tell us …” Natalie hissed in Trish’s ear. Her heart was pounding, the colour had drained from her face. Her beloved stepfather hadn’t said a word about his other daughter, it was as if she didn’t exist. Bastard. At that moment she hated him more than she believed she could hate anyone. He was going to install this … bastard child of his. Give her status over herself. Well, she’d see about that.
She turned her head slightly and saw that Les’ gaze was fixed intently upon her. He knew. He was watching her, waiting for her reaction, trying to gauge her feelings as CJ dropped “the bombshell”. She knew he was enjoying this. Bastard too. She added his name to her hate list.
“Without further ado,” CJ said theatrically, “friends, neighbours, I’d like all of you to meet my natural daughter …”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Jennifer Williams.” His gaze roamed from Shellie to Lisa, rested briefly on Natalie and Trish then moved to where Francey and Steve stood side by side. “Jennifer’s name was changed. Her adoptive parents christened her Francesca Lucia Spinetti, she’s known as Francey. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my architectural designer, Francey Spinetti is my daughter. Will you join your old man on the stage, Francey?”
“What?” Francey stared at Steve then at Les, who grinned hugely and nodded confirmingly at her. Her legs went weak and her head began to spin. CJ’s daughter. Her! What was he talking about? What kind of ruse was he trying to put over? Her mouth tightened. She wasn’t amused. People began pushing her good-naturedly towards the stage.
She tried to think. No! She was Carlo and Lucia Spinetti’s child, daughter of Italian migrants and she had a horde of noisy Italian relatives to prove it. His claim was crazy … she couldn’t be CJ Ambrose’s love child. Her father was Carlo, her mother, Lucia. For a moment she stood rooted to the spot, the colour having drained from her face. She was embarrassed, mortified and finally after several seconds during which people around her began to cheer and clap madly, a slow, combustible anger began to spread through her. What kind of ploy was this? Being CJ’s daughter made no sense, at all!
She looked for Steve but he had disappeared and accidentally her gaze landed on Natalie who was staring at her malevolently. Natalie disliked her, over the months she had made that clear enough, but if CJ’s claim was true — she still couldn’t believe it — she had made a deadly enemy. Oh, God, how had she got herself into this madness? For that’s what she believed it was, total, absolute madness.
CJ called to her above all the cheers and handclaps. “Come on, Francey. I know it’s a shock, love, and I’m sorry for the surprise disclosure but I thought this the best way to tell you. An announcement to the world. It is true as Roy said, and to prove it absolutely, let me introduce two special guests who’ve come from Sydney to share this night with us. Lucia and Carlo Spinetti, Francey’s adoptive parents.”
Francey stared at CJ through a haze of
confusion as his words sank in. Mamma and Papà. Here. Then … then … just maybe all of it — God, no, she couldn’t grasp the concept, but it might be true.
“Are you all right?” Trish whispered to Natalie, her hand on her arm.
“Oh, yeah,” Natalie quipped bitterly, “the news couldn’t be better. At least he’s not going to marry her.” She’d been wrong there. All those months thinking CJ was falling in love with Francey. It was worse than that, much worse. The bitch was his daughter. And … now he had an heir again and where did that leave her? Out in the cold. “Damn the lot of them. Come on. I can’t stand any more, let’s get out of here.”
Trish sensed her lover’s anger in the tight lines around her mouth and the look in her eyes. A shiver ran down her spine. Natalie aroused by passion was magnificent, aroused in anger she could be fearsome. And lately, the frequency of her mood swings led Trish to believe she was capable of anything, even burning Murrundi down if the thought appealed to her.
“Ummm, shouldn’t you stick around and tough it out? People will talk if we just disappear.”
“Stuff them. Let them talk their bloody heads off. They’re all a bunch of inbreds and wankers anyway.” Natalie stopped for a moment to take a deep breath, then she whispered, “If I don’t get away from here I’ll be sick.”
“Okay, let’s go.” Taking her by the hand she led Natalie through the party goers, and out towards Murrundi’s homestead.
As Steve Parrish made his way to the back of the crowd he heard the comments.
“Who’d have thought it …”
“Bloody wonderful. Like a miracle.”
Heart of the Outback Page 33
