Heart of the Outback

by Lynne Wilding

  Francey stifled a yawn. “It’s getting late. I’ll let you two get to bed. Breakfast will be late tomorrow. Come over when you feel like it.”

  “Buona notte, cara, sleep well.”

  Should he try to talk to Francey? He wanted to. CJ paced the bedroom floor, hands behind his back, striding out. Seven paces to the right, turn, six paces to the left.

  Commonsense told him he should allow things to settle, let Francey become accustomed to her new station in life in her own good time. But then, he grimaced to himself, time was a luxury he simply didn’t have. He had gained a little time by going to Geneva. The headaches and many of the other symptoms had receded to a bearable level. But for how long?

  After watching her surreptitiously for most of the evening, he had kept his distance even though what he wanted to do more than anything else was to hug her to him and be able to call her “daughter”, his daughter. He smiled widely and, despite his anxieties was pleased with himself. Francey was all and more than he had hoped for in a child. She showed such promise and in many ways they were so alike. But she also had a lot of her mother in her … the good traits. Gentleness. Understanding. The capacity for love. She would make a great successor when his race was run.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table 3 a.m. Maybe it was Francey!

  “Come in.”

  Natalie thrust the door open wide and stepped inside.

  “You bastard. How could you?”

  She came and stood in front of him. She was tall enough for their eyes to be level with each other. Her hands drew up to her hips and her legs were thrust wide apart in an aggressive stance. “How could you entertain the idea of your little bastard being welcomed with open arms into this house, this community? Where’s your sense of propriety, CJ? I always admired your thoughts on propriety.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “Damned right I am,” she mumbled, her voice moving up half an octave. “I reckon I’ve a bloody right to be after tonight’s performance. So Francey’s your love child.” Her glance swept over him. “You dirty old man. No, sorry, you were a young man then. When you were engaged to my mother, penning her loving letters from your bloody cave in Coober, you were screwing a half-caste bitch. Oh, yes, I found out she was part Aboriginal, Les obligingly told me.”

  CJ’s hand rose to strike her but stopped centimetres from contact with her cheek. “Drunk or not I’ll not have you talk about Francey, or Mary, like that. Mary was a fine young woman whose life was tragically cut short.” His lip curled in derision as he made the observation. “You always did have a dirty tongue and a dirty mind.”

  Natalie, who’d flinched as his large hand had come towards her, took a backwards step. Her grey eyes blazed with all the repressed anger she’d bottled inside her for months. “Since Richard’s death I’ve been the rightful heir, everyone says so. You’re going to give her what’s rightfully mine. Do you think mother would approve of that? I’m damn sure she wouldn’t. You wouldn’t be where you are today without the deWitt money. She doesn’t deserve any of it. Shit, you think I should be pleased about that possibility?”

  CJ’s eyes narrowed on her disdainfully. “Don’t presume to think you know what I plan to do and …” he added forcefully, “whether you approve or not, Murrundi and my fortune belong to me, to do with as I please. You have no control over it, understand?”

  “Is everything all right?” came a voice from the doorway. Francey, barefoot and in her bathrobe, stood in the open doorway.

  On recognising the voice, Natalie spun about, wobbling unsteadily. “Right? No, you bastard, everything’s not right. You’re not right. You shouldn’t be here … you … shit-faced usurper. Why don’t you go back to Sydney where you belong.”

  “Take no notice of her, she’s drunk,” CJ said, his tone dark with disapproval. “I suggest,” but it was more of an order, “Natalie, that you return to your room and sleep it off. We’ll talk about rights, your rights as you perceive them, in the morning.”

  But Natalie was too drunk to recognise the steel in her stepfather’s tone. Her chin pointed upwards stubbornly as she jabbed his chest with a finger. “Damn you, CJ, I’m sick of you always calling the shots. I want to talk about it now.”

  “Well, I don’t,” he said coldly. “The matter’s closed till the morning.”

  “Natalie,” Francey tried to intervene. She could see the coldness in CJ’s eyes and knew that if Natalie pushed him too far she’d later regret it. She half turned to see Les and Shellie coming down the hall, disturbed by the commotion and moved forward to take Natalie by the arm. “Come out to the kitchen, Natalie, I’ll make us a cup of coffee.”

  “Don’t touch me you bitch. Everything was fine until you came along!” Natalie yelled and lunged at Francey, catching her off-guard and tangling her left hand in her dark curls. The other hand dealt her a stinging blow to the side of her face. Francey’s head rocked sideways and her eyes watered.

  Before she could land another blow CJ grabbed Natalie by her forearms and roughly pushed her past Francey and out the doorway towards Shellie. He saw the red welt on Francey’s face and it took all his self-control not to retaliate. Barely controlling his anger, he shouted, “Get her out of my sight before I do something I’ll regret!”

  It took both Les and Shellie to lead a disturbed, still angry Natalie who was yelling incoherently at CJ, back to her room.

  CJ, embarrassed, looked at Francey. “Are you all right?” He watched her nod mutely. “I’m sorry you had to experience that. Do you want to come in and talk?”

  She shook her head as she gently massaged the mark on her cheek. “It’s late. I think we’d both better try and get some sleep. Your house guests will be up and about for breakfast by around 9 a.m.”

  “All right. We’ll talk in the morning.” As he watched her turn away and return to her room his gaze remained thoughtful. She was having difficulty adjusting to all she’d learned tonight. That was to be expected. Having her parents here would help her through it, he hoped. Just now there’d been a look in her eyes that told him as eloquently as words could to give her some space. He would.

  By 6 a.m. Francey gave up the idea of getting any useful rest. She had tried, but as soon as her head hit the pillow the memories of the evening’s events, the words, everything flooded through her mind. She was CJ Ambrose’s love child. Incredible. And he’d probably known it from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Sneaky so-and-so. He’d been watching, judging and testing her from day one. Unbelievable … but true. Her parents had said so, and after talking privately to Roy Preston the evidence was irrefutable.

  That CJ Ambrose was her father was harder to accept than the fact that she was part Aboriginal. She didn’t mind that at all. It explained some things that had puzzled her for several months. Her almost instant love of the land, the real feeling she had for it, for being a part of it. As well as how she loved to listen to Alison and Billy Wontow tell stories about their tribe and their customs. Some inner part of her had unconsciously responded to it all.

  But deep inside her resided a sadness for never having known the woman who had given her life. Lucia had spoken of Mary Williams so fondly, and even CJ… Her gaze hardened. What a selfish, ruthless individual. Callously walking away all those years ago. She hoped he’d suffered feelings of remorse. A lot. He had a great deal to answer for. He’d destroyed Mary’s life, turned her own upside down and had even wrought havoc on her adoptive parents lives. Anger bubbled up inside her again. Why had he done this? So he could get what he wanted, whatever that was!

  Giving up the idea of sleeping, she got up and dressed. Jeans, sweater, denim jacket; late autumn mornings were cool on Murrundi. She went out to the stables and saddled Astra. A brisk, morning ride would clear the cobwebs and, hopefully, settle her inner turmoil.

  She rode north, keeping the distant line of trees that marked the creek in view. By now she was familiar with the landscape
around Murrundi but as her horse picked its way along she unconsciously found herself heading towards the homestead’s cemetery.

  Inside, an extreme restlessness had taken control, thoughts pulling her this way and that. She reined in near the aluminium fence and dismounted. Dew was still on the grass but she didn’t care. She went and sat beside Richard Ambrose’s grave and, reading the words inscribed on the headstone she slowly let out a heartfelt sigh. Then her gaze moved to the one for young Miles. Her half-brothers. She had never had the opportunity to know them, or they her. Would they have liked each other, she wondered? Her gaze returned to Richard’s grave. If he were still alive, she thought with a wry twist to her mouth, she wouldn’t be sitting here. None of last night’s revelations would have occurred and she’d probably still be working for Aden. Richard’s death had been the catalyst that had spurred CJ into seeking out the past and all that followed.

  Why had CJ revealed his parentage to her, to anyone? She stared hard at her half-brother’s headstone, mulling it over. Why? And then it came to her and the sudden knowledge knocked the breath from her lungs. Why hadn’t she seen it sooner? Of course. CJ was grooming her to take over his empire when he … He had no other blood heir. Shellie had no children, Les, his right hand-man wasn’t blood related and neither was Natalie.

  Her hands began to tremble and a shudder ran through her body at the enormity of the thought, and worse, the reality. Oh, God. That’s why Natalie had made that scene — she’d seen her inheritance as sole heir slipping through her fingers. She covered her face with her hands, pressing her fingers against her forehead. Suddenly the responsibility of it, of what it meant to be CJ Ambrose’s only living child, hit her. She couldn’t do it. No way! Working as his architectual designer, learning the ropes was one thing, but running the whole show? Her head began to swim as she thought of the ramifications, the extent of his empire, the power.

  She wasn’t into power like CJ. And she certainly didn’t have his ruthless streak. But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t do just as good a job, an insidious voice inside her head said. She shook her head vigorously. No! Her whole life would change.

  She needed to see Steve and talk it all through with him.

  A noise intruded into her thoughts: a horse cantering towards the cemetery. Billy Wontow slid from the saddle in a fluid movement and opened the cemetery gate.

  “Hi. You’re up early,” he said as he sat cross-legged opposite her.

  She gave him a lopsided smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  He nodded gravely. “Not surprising. Big news last night. Everyone amazed, but most were pleased.” He held out both of his hands to her and said simply, “Welcome.”

  She didn’t hesitate to grasp his and for a moment she looked at his dark, gnarled buckles covering her paler ones. She looked into his eyes. “You knew, didn’t you? About the Aboriginality.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. Alison and I knew pretty soon. We can always tell our own.” He grinned at her confused expression. “Don’t ask me how. Guess it’s the spirit singing to us or something.”

  “I’d like to know more … about my birth mother. Lucia said she was abandoned at a mission when she was very small. I don’t know how to go about it.”

  “Doesn’t matter, Francey. You know who you are and we know you’re one of us. That’s all that matters.”

  “I guess so.” She sighed. “I … I’m having a few problems getting used to the idea of being CJ’s daughter. All my life I thought I was Italian, now I’m the part Aboriginal daughter of a multimillionaire. It’s hard to make the mental adjustment. It’s like I’ve gone through some strange, not altogether pleasant rebirth.”

  Billy looked away to the dry pasture, waiting for winter rain. “CJ’s a good bloke. Tough, but fair. You’ll make a good boss lady one day, don’t worry, it’ll all work out.” He got up, strode over to his saddlebag. He took out what appeared to be the Sunday paper. “Look, you’ve made the big time already.”

  He spread the front page out in front of her to show the picture of herself, and one of CJ emblazoned with the headline — the man with the golden touch acknowledges love child with a Roy Preston by-line.

  “Oh, no.”

  Billy laughed at her dismay. “Oh, yes. You’re a celebrity now.”

  As per CJ’s instructions, all the interested parties — Shellie, Les, Natalie, Francey, and out of courtesy the Spinettis, sat in CJ’s study at the time he’d appointed — an hour after breakfast.

  “This won’t take long,” CJ promised as he spread some papers out in front of him. Eventually he looked up and at them one by one. “Last night’s revelations regarding Francey’s relationship to me have necessitated several changes to my will. I intend to legally acknowledge my natural daughter,” he smiled at Francey. “My solicitor has advised me that the simplest way to do this is to write a new will with the same entitlements for everyone except for one difference. Where Richard’s name was inserted as the heir to the bulk of my estate, Francey’s name will now be inserted.”

  “May I say something?” Francey asked. What if she said it now? That she intended to walk away from everything. From CJ, Murrundi, her future inheritance, the responsibilities. She’d thought about it, long and hard. She knew what she was getting into if she stayed and in a way it would be easier to turn her back on it. She looked at CJ, and intercepted the love in his direct gaze as he waited expectantly for her to speak. Damn! She couldn’t do it. In some strange, no, wonderful way she had become as bound to him as he was to her. He nodded his assent and she went on. “I don’t think that’s fair — to Natalie. It may have been proved that I’m your child but I’ve not grown up here, I’ve not been a part of the family … Perhaps a fifty-fifty split would be more equitable.”

  “You’re part of the family now,” CJ’s tone was firm. “I commend your sense of fair play, but I assure you, in the terms of my will, Natalie, who is already a wealthy woman, is well catered for.”

  “Am I?” Natalie queried. Hungover or not she would have her say. “When Richard was alive I accepted the fact that I had to take a lesser share. He was the male heir, my half-brother and I loved him. This is different. Francey’s female and your illegal brat. Legally I’m not sure what the ramifications are but I feel quite strongly that I would contest such a will and let the courts judge the case on its merits.”

  CJ’s smile was controlled. “Well, by that time I wouldn’t be around to stop you but think it through carefully, Natalie. I’ve had expert legal advice from the top law firm in the state. As my acknowledged heir and with proof of Francey’s relationship to me, all you might do is make a barrister more wealthy than he already is.”

  “Anyway,” Shellie fussed, “I hate all this talk about death and wills. CJ’s going to be around for a long time, now that he’s so much better.”

  “But I have a right, a longer standing right,” Natalie ignored Shellie’s attempt to change the subject. Her fingers curled into fists which she beat on the side arm of the chair. “I’ve lived here all my life. My mother’s money gave you the start to get where you are today.”

  “Which I’ve acknowledged,” CJ pointed out. “That’s why your settlement is so generous.”

  “You’ve never shown much interest in running Murrundi, or in CJ’s other business interests. What would you do? Sell them all off and pocket the profits?” Les said to Natalie.

  “I could get a manager in to run everything, lots of cattle stations are run that way … as you well know,” Natalie told Les tartly.

  “There’s a clause in my will that states Murrundi can’t be sold until ten years after my death,” CJ advised all of them.

  Francey cleared her throat and spoke. “Look, really, this talk about wills and what happens afterwards is unsettling and unnecessary at this point in time.”

  “Not so,” CJ interceded. “It’s important that these matters are understood, by all of us.”

  “Oh, you think it’s unsettling, do you?” Natalie snapp
ed at Francey. “You’re sitting pretty, aren’t you? CJ’s white-haired girl. All you have to do is hang around and be nice to him and … and …”

  “That’s enough,” CJ’s tone was curt. “Natalie, if you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head then kindly leave this room.”

  “I …I…” Natalie spluttered, outraged by the tone of her stepfather’s ultimatum. “I was just speaking my mind, that’s all.”

  “You were being offensive and you know it,” CJ returned, unimpressed. “I’ve had enough of it. You’ve been like this for months. Either change your ways or make yourself scarce. Now.”

  Natalie turned on Francey. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d have him all to yourself so you could worm your way in even deeper.” She stood and straightened. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get some fresh air.”

  Only Les saw the look Natalie threw in Francey’s direction as she made a red-faced exit. Hate and loathing mixed with an expression of sheer malice were clearly displayed. Silly bitch. Didn’t she realise she was falling into CJ’s trap? Making herself come over as greedy and selfish, proving how great the difference was between herself and Francey. Not that he cared. She deserved whatever she got or didn’t get.

  To her parents delight, Francey drove them to the Mt Isa airport in CJ’s Rolls-Royce.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be all right up here?” Lucia worried as they exchanged a parting hug. “That Natalie’s a bitch. Be careful of her.”

  “Of course, Mamma. Things will be strained for a while, no doubt about that. I’m still angry with CJ and he knows it. But it’ll sort itself out.”

  “Be happy, cara, that is the most important thing. The power and the money are empty tools without happiness,” Carlo said as he kissed her on both cheeks. “And stay just as you are. Don’t change now that you’re going to be a mega-rich woman.”

  “I’m not mega-rich yet and I don’t know … I need time to get used to the idea, to everything.”

  “And your Steve. What are you-?”