Heart of the Outback
Page 34
“Jesus, she’s going to be worth millions.”
“So, that’s why old CJ got her up here to work, so he could check her out. See whether she had the right stuff. Cunning bastard.”
“She has, old son. Intellect, looks and now, or when CJ kicks off, truckloads of lovely money.”
“I could help her spend it.”
By the time he got to the fringe a trough of depression blanketed him. Francey Spinetti — CJ Ambrose’s daughter! It sounded unbelievable but he didn’t doubt that it was true. CJ was too careful, too astute to contrive such a falsehood. Even so, he couldn’t grasp it no matter how hard he tried. CJ and Francey related. Francey. Potentially wealthy beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.
She’s out of your league now, an inner voice taunted him.
Francey the architect was one thing. Eminently suitable. He’d thought they’d make a good team. The architect and the cop. But Francey the millionaire’s daughter and the cop? No. His jaw flexed. He couldn’t see that. CJ, the cunning old so-and-so had known it for almost a year and kept it under wraps while he’d assessed her, became fond of her and seen that the fondness was reciprocated. He’d lost his son and found a daughter whom he was tutoring to eventually step into his shoes as Richard would have done had he lived. He really was the man with the golden touch. Suddenly he thought of what might have been. His plans, his and Francey’s plans. He thrust his hands disconsolately into his trouser pockets. Damn CJ to hell.
At the bar he picked up a glass of whisky and downed it in one gulp. Then, as he made his way up to the verandah of the homestead he almost collided with Natalie and Trish as they hurried inside. He was enough of a humanitarian to spare CJ’s stepdaughter a compassionate thought or two. She looked devastated. Fair enough. Natalie had thought she was the only apple on the tree, the heir apparent. Now she had a rival that CJ was obviously fond of.
Standing on the higher vantage point, carefully watching the people mill around the stage shouting congratulations, he saw his future with Francey going down the tube. His fingers closed around the small box in his left-hand trouser pocket. Tonight he’d been going to ask her to marry him, had thought it appropriate on her birthday. He couldn’t now. Wouldn’t. She had moved beyond his reach. The picture had changed, irrevocably. He, a forty thousand plus a year cop could never fit into her elite world, a world she had settled into with remarkable ease, he’d noted, as if she’d been born to it.
He ran a hand distractedly through his hair and let the sadness flow through him for what couldn’t be. Even if she still thought she wanted him, he’d have to be strong for both of them. It would never work — the differences were too great. They had truly moved into different worlds.
His sighed loudly. Maybe the next time Inspector Clarke talked about him transferring to Brisbane, he’d give it serious thought.
Steve turned on his heel and walked away from the party.
“I knew there was something,” Shellie was saying to Les and anyone else within earshot. “From the moment I greeted her at Murrundi’s front door I felt something. It was her expression, I think. I know now that it reminded me of Richard. Then later, when she and CJ would row, they were so alike. I don’t know why I didn’t cotton on sooner. It all makes sense now. The rage he got into when Francey was lost in the bush. Why he was so fond of her and trying to train her in all the aspects of his business world.” CJ had a daughter. She smiled … and she had a niece. “Francey’s got the business brains too, just like him.” She looked enquiringly at Les. “You knew, didn’t you?”
Les shook his head. “Not until CJ told me. Then, like you, lots of things clicked into place.” He smiled. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I mean, we’re all fond of her, thought of her as part of the family and now, well, she really is.”
“Yes, it’s given CJ a lift. God knows he needed it after Richard, and that tumour scare.”
“I notice Natalie hasn’t come over to congratulate her,” Les put in maliciously.
“Oh, that one,” Shellie muttered, “probably sulking. She’ll have her nose out of joint for a while. Expected to get the lot after Richard’s death.”
“I guess she did,” Les said quietly, and was unable to wipe the pleased smile off his face, though he knew he should. Tonight Natalie deWitt-Ambrose had got her comeuppance and been delivered a substantial hiding. He’d like to be somewhere close enough to hear what she thought of tonight’s happenings but she and Trish had slunk off to console each other. Oh, well, he was patient, men on the land had to be. He could wait.
He also noted Steve Parrish’s absence. Good. He prided himself on being able to read people’s character and if he’d read Parrish right, with Francey now being CJ’s main heir, the cop would consider her differently. That suited his plans perfectly. Everything was falling into place. Francey’d be unhappy for a while about Steve’s disaffection but he’d be there to console her and to make her see that they were better suited. Soon Francey would inherit most of CJ’s estate and together they’d rule the roost. Yes, he intended to put all his energies into making sure that came to pass.
CJ looked at Francey and a frown formed across his forehead. He tried to second-guess what she was thinking, feeling, but couldn’t. Shock. Disbelief. He’d expected that but he saw more. He knew her. She was angry with him. Bloody angry. Angrier than he’d ever seen her. He hadn’t expected that. He sensed there were questions she wanted to ask. She’d want more detailed explanations too — she deserved them and he’d provide them.
He watched as she hugged her parents and saw each of them shed a few tears. Joining them, he said quietly, “I’m sure we’d all feel more comfortable in my study. There’s lots to go over. Francey, I suppose you have a million questions.”
She couldn’t bear to look at him. Even though, presumably, he was her own flesh and blood. She was furious at what he’d done. He shouldn’t have made his announcement the way he had. He should have told her privately, given her time to adjust to the change before he’d bellowed it to the world in that typical CJ Ambrose grandstanding way. “All right. I’ll lead the way.”
Carlo whispered to CJ as they walked in unison. “I know that look, my friend. You probably do too. She’s about to erupt like a mini Mount Vesuvius.”
“I’d better make sure we have some wine, maybe that’ll dampen her down.” CJ beckoned a passing waiter. “Bring a bottle of white wine to the study, will you?”
Once the four were ensconced in CJ’s spacious study, Francey wasted no time in venting her feelings.
“How could you?” She stared at CJ, hands on hips, her blue-green eyes blazing. “Assuming your’s and Roy’s story is accurate how could you tell all those people, make a public announcement without telling me first? You should have granted me the courtesy of telling me in private. I felt foolish, ill-prepared …”
“I can see that you’re angry. I didn’t —”
“I’m not angry, I’m furious! I was embarrassed. People congratulating me for turning out to be —” she almost choked on the words, “your daughter. Falling for it hook, line and sinker. Well, I’m not so easily convinced. You’ll have to prove it to me and it’ll take more than a few official documents to do that.”
Lucia spoke then, comforting her with a gentle pat on the hand. “Francey, cara. I feel your pain, your anger.”
“No, Mamma, I don’t think you do. It was …” She found her feelings incredibly hard to put into words. “My whole life’s suddenly been turned upside down. One minute I knew who I was, where I’d come from, the next I’m hearing something different. I can’t explain it well, but it’s not a pleasant feeling.”
Lucia went on. “Perhaps CJ should have informed you first. But, darling, it is true what CJ said. You are his and Mary Williams’ child, not ours. If you blame CJ then you must also blame Carlo and I. You should have been told the truth long ago. We were cowards. We were afraid you mightn’t love us any more if you knew we weren’t your real parents. Capisci?”
“Francey, I want you to understand, and Carlo and Lucia, too. It’s not my goal to cause a rift between the three of you. I think what you have together is wonderful. In fact, I’m envious of it. No-one could have done a better job bringing Francey up,” CJ admitted. “But now we all know the truth about your parentage, we’re all linked by the fact.” His penetrating gaze forced Francey to look at him. “I want to be allowed to be a part of your life and I hope and pray you will want to be a part of mine.”
Francey began to tremble. She couldn’t deal with all the ramifications now. CJ Ambrose, “the man with the golden touch” — her father. God, it meant so many things, conflicting things. Values, memories altered. Oh, there were too many for her to think clearly about. All at once her anger abated as quickly as it had been aroused. “Please, CJ, I need time to think. I want to talk to my, to Mamma and Papà.”
Nodding, CJ stood up. He hid the hurt well. She hadn’t exactly rejected him but he knew that he had to play it carefully now and give her time to come to terms with everything. He didn’t blame her for her confusion, her anger. Francey was so much like him, she just didn’t know it yet. “I understand. I’ll get back to the guests. Mingle. Get Shellie to organise supper. You will come out to cut the birthday cake, won’t you?” He watched her mute nod and had to be satisfied with that. He quietly let himself out of the room.
When they were alone, Francey turned to her parents and asked the first question. “How long have you known?”
“About five weeks,” Carlo told her. “CJ flew down to Sydney with his offsider, Les. They came to see us and told us what he wanted to do. Swore us to secrecy. Of course, we didn’t know either until then. The name on your birth certificate, where it says who the father was, were just initials. CJA. We hadn’t looked at it for years, didn’t put it together until CJ talked about Mary, described the kind of person she was. Then we knew it to be the truth.”
“Mary …” A lump lodged in her throat as Francey spoke her birth mother’s name for the first time. “I need to know so much. About her, how it all happened, how you came to adopt me. There’s so much to absorb.” She made a funny, half strangled sound. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a runaway road train.” Momentarily she thought about Steve, wondered at his reaction to the announcement. Would he be pleased for her? Was she pleased for herself? In all honesty she wasn’t sure. It changed how she felt about so many things, past, present and future.
Lucia took a sip of her wine and said, “I will tell you all that we know. Carlo and I had just come from Perth to Adelaide. We’d leased a fruit shop and milk bar in Glenelg, near the beach. One day a young woman, she was only a little pregnant then, came into the shop answering our advertisement for a room we had to let. It was Mary. She took the room, and as the months passed we got to know her well. She didn’t seem to mind my broken English,” Lucia added with a self-conscious laugh.
“Mary was so looking forward to your birth, making matinee jackets, bootees, bonnets. On Saturday’s she helped us serve in the shop — it was our busiest day — and then she would have dinner with us that night and attend mass with us on Sundays. Sometimes she talked about CJ, telling us that she cared for him but that he was a brutto, selfish man. Then as her time got close I could see that she wasn’t well. It was a blood problem. Later we found out that she had a type of leukaemia, one that develops rapidly. Several times we had to get the doctor to her …”
Carlo took over the story. “Her determination kept her going, you know. She had to stay strong for your birth, but the labour was long and it tired her more than we or the doctor’s realised. She never really recovered her strength and slowly, she just faded away. The illness does that to pregnant women, so the doctors said.
“She died peacefully in her sleep when you were almost three months old.” Carlo sniffed back a tear. “We didn’t know what to do, cara. We had come to love you as our own, as we had come to care for Mary as a very dear friend. We spoke to our parish priest. He knew we wanted bambini of our own but after seven years God had not blessed us. Father suggested that we adopt you and bring you up as our own daughter.” He gave her a gloriously happy smile. “And we did.”
“Cara, Mary, your mother would have been so proud of you, of how smart you are. I am sure that somewhere she is looking down on you, caring for you, watching over you.”
“Oh, Mamma.” And then the tears began to flow. From all of them. Carlo and Lucia for their memories. Francey, for the discovery of her past, how it had all begun.
“Here.” She handed Francey a black velour box. “We have been keeping this for you since Mary’s death. The time never seemed right to give it to you,” said Lucia, “but I think now, at this very moment, it is appropriate.” Francey opened the lid and stared through a veil of mistiness at a magnificent opal pendant. The spectrum of colours, their diversity and their depth, fascinated her.
“It is a harlequin opal which belonged to your mother,” Carlo explained. “CJ gave it to her because it was one of the first opals he found in his mine, so she told us. Mary would want you to have it and, Francey,” he paused to wangle a finger at her, “Lucia and I know you and your stubborn ways. You must try not to think too harshly of your father. CJ did wrong, he has admitted that to everyone tonight and I have no doubt that he has suffered great mental anguish for what he did. He loves you like a daughter, we can see that. Like I love you. Remember that when you judge him.”
She looked down at her hands, suddenly aware of the colour, the brownness. CJ wasn’t olive-skinned, but she was, like Carlo and Lucia. Strange. “I don’t even know what she, what my real mother looked like,” Francey said quietly, her emotions and curiosity at a peak. She should hate CJ for stirring up this mess, making her question, doubt, wonder. But she knew that she couldn’t, even though at this precise moment she didn’t like him very much.
“Here. We only have the one photo — I believe CJ has a couple of others. It was taken outside our fruit shop by a customer,” Lucia said as she handed the photo to Francey.
Francey studied the black and white photograph showing a young, slim woman with dark, slightly wild curly hair, obviously in the first stages of pregnancy. She was simply dressed in a pale, patterned sun frock and white sandals. Her eyes suddenly widened and then she understood about the colour, and so much more. Her mother was part Aboriginal.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Francey was kept busy until the early hours of the morning answering people’s questions, smiling at their congratulations and outwardly appearing to enjoy herself. Internally though, she was in turmoil.
She was concerned by Steve’s absence and needed his strength and commonsense to help her through this. Someone told her he had left shortly after CJ’s speech. She wanted to talk to him and pour out all her feelings, but that would have to wait.
Her parents had been wonderful. Lucia, so understanding, gentle, trying to tell her in a few hours the many things she wanted to know about Mary. CJ kept his distance, as if sensing that she needed time to adjust to the changes his little speech had wrought. Les Westcott was a tower of strength and stayed by her side when he thought he was needed, fending off the overly curious and smoothing her transition from respected architectural designer for CJ Ambrose, to the lofty status of daughter.
As the party began to wind down Francey saw her parents to one of the suites in the mini conference centre.
“Che bella,” Lucia exclaimed as she walked around the suite, ad
miring the luxurious decor. She had never stayed in such opulence before and was in awe.
“You did all this, cara?” Carlo asked as his large hands waved effusively about the room.
Francey explained. “Not the actual work, but the planning, down to the last detail.” Her smile widened. “That’s what an architect does, you know.”
He nodded his head thoughtfully, as if finally understanding exactly what she did for a living. His dark-eyed gaze roamed about the room, taking it all in. “Sì, capisco. You are very good at what you do,” he pronounced.
“Of course she is,” Lucia fussed, then she asked. “Do you think anyone would mind if I used the spa? I’ve never had a spa bath before.”
“Mamma, use whatever you like. That’s what it’s here for.”
“Tomorrow Les promised to take us up in the helicopter for a tour of the property. Isn’t that kind of him?” Carlo informed.
“You’ll enjoy that. Murrundi is a big place.”
“He’s going to show us where you got lost in the bush.” Lucia’s eyes narrowed. “That woman, Natalie, I would like to have her alone in a room for two minutes. To give her a piece of my mind.”
“Mamma, don’t. That’s all over, long ago.” Francey thought for a moment and then she confided in her parents. “That episode is the least of Natalie’s problems at the moment. I’m sure that tonight’s news, about my relationship to CJ, has shocked and surprised Natalie, as it has most people. I think CJ was remiss in not, somehow, including her in the whole event. She must be feeling a little left out of things.” It was odd in a way but despite Natalie’s nastiness and rudeness to her she did feel that CJ was treating her harshly.
“Ahh! There you go, being kind again, cara,” Carlo said. “It is a good trait, my child, but I would not spend too much time worrying about that Natalie. From what I saw of her she looks able to look after herself. A tough little number, in fact.”
“I agree,” said Lucia with a dismissive sniff.