Wade drove silently through the town to the main north-south coastal highway, a few minutes later, and eventually said, ‘I expect you to take due and proper consideration of the change in scenery as we get along a bit. Hedland’s situated rather in the middle of nothing, but once you get a ways away from it, the country starts to show its true colours.’
And it did! Much to Holly’s surprise, they travelled only a short distance south of Port Hedland before suddenly finding a landscape in a state of change. At first she could hardly believe her eyes as the subtlety of soft-coloured ranges began to float into view over the heat haze. They seemed unreal, disembodied. But as the speeding, air-conditioned car sped closer, the ranges of hills took on more substance, although their colouring remained so soft, so muted by distance, heat haze and the harsh sunlight that she found herself wondering if they hadn’t somehow been transformed from another planet.
Everything was red or purple or some shade between. Even in the distant mauve of the hills was a tinge of red, just enough to draw the eye. It was beautiful, and yet …
‘It’s so ... empty,’ she ventured, meaning it not as a criticism. But she drew only a grunt from the driver. Wade obviously didn’t consider her vocal opinions terribly important. Or was it her choice of words? Clearly he had his own love for this vast, widespread land where distance only added to the beauty.
As they sped southward, Holly was consciously reminded of the descriptions in the Zane Grey novels about Australia she’d read as a child. Purple, and in all shades and tones, now seemed to dominate the landscape. It subjugated the pale, dusty green of the spinifex bushes that covered the ground so sparsely, shading away to red wherever the soil colour could force a way through to the sunlight.
Wade continued to drive in silence, only speaking when he bothered to point out the gentle, eighty-six-metre slope of Mount Berghaus and the slightly higher rise of two-hundred-and-four-metre Mount Constantine.
What impressed Holly the most, as they continued south, was the incredible, changeable beauty the barren landscape seemed to create with every kilometre they travelled. And yet it was a harsh, unforgiving land, a rugged, seemingly tireless place in which Holly could feel herself an intruder even as was the bitumen highway and the modern vehicle in which they travelled. That impression was reinforced when Wade turned off on to a broad, gravel track at a signpost marked ‘Cossack’.
Cossack, he informed her, was now a ghost town, only the skeleton of its former glory as one of the region’s earliest settlements. ‘You’ll have to use your imagination to appreciate it,’ he said, and when they arrived, Holly could understand what he meant.
The tiny, abandoned settlement with its clutches of stone and brick buildings — many of them in surprisingly good shape for their age — had an almost ethereal quality in the brilliance of the tropical sunlight.
The old courthouse, looking almost as if ready for business, the hotel with its ancient empty ovens now only a showplace for graffiti, and the roofless cell blocks with massive iron doors still firmly in place ... it was incredibly lovely despite the loneliness that hung over the place like a shroud.
‘This was to have been the centre of the Northwest,’ Wade mused. ‘Only the estuary silted up, and without a decent harbour, that was the beginning of the end.’
She could understand his meaning, but in her own heart was only astonishment at the hardiness of those pioneers who’d created a town from the raw rock around them, only to find it useless, and finally to leave it, leaving their hopes, their dreams, their children’s futures.
When Wade advised her that there was a move afoot, finally, to ensure the preservation of Cossack as an historic town, she felt a surge of gladness. Nothing with so much history, so much tragedy, should be allowed to disappear without at least a second chance. Holly thought.
‘It’ll take a lot of time and a lot of money,’ Wade said as if reading her thoughts, ‘but I reckon it has to be worth it. Lord, they must have been a tough breed, those original pioneers. People think the Northwest is tough now, but then ...’
Holly was barely listening; her attention was drawn instead to the enormous statue that seemed to dominate the former village centre of Cossack. She had noticed the statue on their arrival, of course, but now, having seen the stark evidence of civilisation’s first feeble hold upon the region, the statue seemed to take on new emphasis.
It was a life-sized portrayal of four figures, roughly hewn but the more beautiful for that. A pioneer, standing and gazing out to sea over the now-silted estuary, while his wife and child sat beside him and an Aboriginal tracker sat at his feet. Already weathered by the harshness of the climate, the statue seemed none the less indomitable, like the land itself
Or like Wade! Or was that only her imagination that saw so much of his rugged individuality in the stern face of the statue? Certainly, Holly thought, there was little of the brittle Ramona Mason revealed in the female portion of the statue. This woman was a true mother- figure, tough, solid, enduring.
Then she chuckled at her cattiness. Whatever would make her think such things? Wade, thankfully, didn’t appear to notice. But that didn’t make the realisation any easier to handle. Holly was glad when he finally decided they should return to the car and continue their expedition.
She was equally glad to accept his expression of concern for her own comfort. The sun, he maintained, was growing hotter to the point where he thought she’d appreciate the return to the vehicle’s air-conditioning.
‘Well, I’ll have to get used to it sometime,’ she replied without thinking. Then could have shrieked at his reply.
‘Easier said than done. It takes years,’ he said, and might as well have damned her on the spot. What Holly heard was a different message: ‘You won’t be here long enough for it to matter.’ She made that interpretation also by herself, and replied somewhat acidly.
‘It hasn’t really been decided, has it?’ she countered briskly, attempting to brazen her way through the iciness inside her. ‘At the very least, we’ll have to wait and see how Jessica fares, unless of course you’re so anxious to get rid of me that ...’
"What are you on about?’ he interrupted, ‘Nobody, least of all mc, is trying to get rid of you. Now stop trying to create an issue where one doesn’t exist.’ His tones revealed boredom, but Holly knew better. He wasn’t bored, merely resigned to her presence. But then, why all this trouble to show her around? It did seem he was carrying hospitality a bit further than was required. Unless, of course, he too was so worried about Jessica that he’d make any excuse to get away from the house, from the tension of the telephone.
‘1 hope it’s only the fact that you’re thirsty that makes you so stroppy,’ he said then with a surprisingly warm grin. ‘We’ll stop at the lookout for a tinnie; maybe the walk will give you an appetite as well, because you’re going to need it, I can assure you of that.’
The lookout turned out to be a tiny, roofed pergola that perched on top of a steep bluff, giving a shaded over-view of the coast from the Cossack inlet to the rugged coastline of the Dampier Archipelago a few miles to the south of them.
It was a curious place, high and windswept and vulnerable, yet commanding sweeping views of astounding loveliness. Below them, the sea was a perfect tropical turquoise, with the height making it possible to pick out each slightly darker or lighter area of reef or sandbank.
But it was, as Wade had promised, a bit of a walk from the car and very steep, so when he snapped open a can of beer and offered it to her, Holly found the golden liquid more refreshing than she’d expected. The can was empty almost as soon as she’d begun it, but Wade seemed to find that perfectly normal, and merely handed her another one without even being asked.
‘But that’s all you get for now,’ he said with a teasing grin. ‘I don’t want you falling down tipsy during lunch.’
‘Well, I should certainly hope not,’ Holly agreed, but was none the less grateful for his supporting hand as they descended the narrow track to t
he car park.
What followed was only a short drive by comparison to the distance they’d already come. They cut the corner of the small community of Wickham, then continued on to Point Samson. Wade kept up a touristy commentary as they drove, pointing out the various sights in a cheerful, running patter that seemed to Holly to reveal a definite change of mood. Where he’d seemed merely polite earlier in the day, he now seemed positively cheerful, although Holly silently reminded herself not to be fooled. Wade Bannister, she knew only too well, was not a man to be taken for granted about anything, not even his temperament.
After skirting the edge of Point Samson, they arrived at a parking area significant only for the enormous, rusting, abandoned boilers that seemed to litter the landscape. The place looked to Holly like some giant’s junkyard.
‘Doesn’t look like much, does it?’ Wade chuckled. ‘But don’t be fooled. It’s a dandy place for swimming, among other things.’
The look in his eye was clear enough, but Holly was already halfway through asking ‘What other things?’ before she realised she was being baited yet again. His grin before responding was positively devilish.
‘It’s called Honeymoon Cove,’ he said. ‘Figure it out for yourself.’
‘I shan’t bother,’ she retorted with a toss of her head. ‘The swimming will be quite sufficient for me, thank you.’
‘Oh, I’m sure it would be,’ was his reply, but when Holly turned to seek confirmation of the answer’s suggestiveness, there was nothing in his eyes or face to confirm her impression.
‘You just remember to watch where you put your feet, although it’s usually quite safe here,’ he reminded her. ‘And if you see a sea snake or a Noah’s ark — or hear me calling a warning don’t hang about asking questions, just get out of it fast.’
Noah’s ark ... shark, her memory translated, but her voice showed concern when she asked, ‘Sea snakes?’ Wade was already slipping out of his clothing, revealing a body so hard and bronzed it made Holly feel like a washed-out sickling by comparison.
‘Yes, there might be a few around, but there are seldom many here, and the sharks usually stay well out. It’s a nice, protected little cove,’ he replied, stepping over to help Holly out of the beach jacket that covered her bikini.
As Holly turned to face him, she found something in his eyes that belied her own impressions about how she must look.
‘Don’t worry, little Hollyhock. I won’t let anything hurt you,’ Wade said in a voice strangely gentle, even more strangely alluring, persuasive. Then he took her hand and led her down the narrow walkway to the cove. Holly followed like a child, fearless and trusting.
The beach at Honeymoon Cove was only a small nook, carved by the sea from towering expanses of jagged dark rock that ran around the convoluted coastline from the long Point Samson jetty. The footpath traversed the weathered surfaces of the rock, but to step off it in bare feet would have meant precarious going.
And yet it was beautiful, that dark, sea-burnished surface. In places, the waves had carved tunnels and gorges towards the shore, revealing twisting, sculptured walls in a variety of colours and gradually collecting a carpet of bright pebbles in the bottoms of the fluted chambers.
Dumping towels and beach gear on a handy rock ledge. Wade plunged confidently into the slow, gentle waves. Holly followed more cautiously, one eye anxiously scanning the placid, turquoise water for sea snakes and the other following Wade’s bronzed, athletic figure.
The water deepened so gradually that they were far out before it was even waist deep, and Holly thought they could almost walk to the tiny islet that perched some distance off shore. But clearly Wade had no such intention; he was content to swim lazily back and forth, relaxing in the warm, basking sea and — Holly was certain — watching her as she tried to shrug off her nervousness and swim with some equal pleasure. If only he hadn’t mentioned sharks and sea snakes, it would have been easier, she thought.
Floating, finally, on her back, eyes roving the blue heavens above as she watched the passing sea birds and puff balls of soft cloud, she found herself wondering if it really was possible that Wade was changing his mind about her. She wanted him to, no sense in trying to deny that. But he was so damned insular, so difficult to predict and even more so to interpret.
His feelings for Jessica were open enough, as were his feelings for the Northwest, his home. But with Holly herself, he seemed to carry unpredictability as a shield she couldn’t breach.
It just wasn’t fair, she thought. She’d explained the incident at the airport, and he really had nothing else against her. Except, perhaps, the situation of the rented equipment for his party. But then Jessica had clarified that, surely? Was it that he just didn’t trust her, had some strange, instinctive barrier against her? That was a possibility Holly didn’t really care to consider.
Turning her head, she glanced across to where he was sliding porpoise-like through the gentle waves, his body gleaming as the flashes of salt water shimmered along the muscular torso, the long, well-shaped legs. How at home he seemed in the sea. Holly thought, remembering how equally at home he’d seemed once they’d left the built-up area of Port Hedland and driven into the heat- hazed emptiness beyond.
Would his children be equally at home here in this vast, desolate, beautiful isolation? She supposed so, and wondered almost in the same breath if they might also be her children. Realisation of that radical thought was so shocking that Holly gasped in surprise, almost tipping herself off balance.
She looked across at him again, glad he hadn’t been able to notice her momentary surprise, much less guess the reason for it!
At first she saw only his imperious upraised hand. A gesture unmistakable in its message: Stay Still! Then she saw, flashing through the water between them in deadly undulations, the sinister, writhing shape that could only be a sea snake.
Holly’s mouth opened to scream, but she was unbalanced and got only a mouthful of water that doubled her panic. She thrashed, blind and deaf with panic, her choking intensified and the salt water in her eyes obscuring her vision. She tried again to scream, but only a helpless gurgle emerged; she tried to stand upright, but where was up?
And then she was being grabbed, her body forcibly held against the writhing of her panic, which grew as the physical constraints increased.
‘Damn it, woman ... be still! You’re all right. All right!’
She heard the words, but her brain refused to comprehend. She struggled even harder, lashing out with hands and feet in a frenzy as she fought her freedom.
‘Holly! Stop it!’ This time the voice was sharper still, knifing through her struggles. Iron bands closed around her arms, binding them to her sides, cutting off her breath until exhaustion halted her writhing, frantic struggle.
‘Good girl. It’s all right ... it’s all right.’ The voice droned on, softer now, enticing, protecting. The bands loosened until she could breathe more freely, yet held her secure and upright. She could feel the warm water against her lips, her legs, but her face was clear now, the air coming into her lungs was fresh and dry.
She coughed, tried vainly to writhe free once more, but found herself caught up hke a child in arms that cradled her with the same gentleness as was in the voice.
‘Easy, easy love. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Relax.’
She opened her eyes to find his own startling green eyes only inches away, staring down at her with unbelievable tenderness that caught in her throat worse than the gulped-in sea water. Wade was holding her close against his broad chest, and she then became conscious of his easy, flowing walk as he plodded towards the distant sand of the beach.
Holly closed her eyes for an instant, and when she looked again his expression had changed totally. Still warm, but gone was that exquisite tenderness, that heart-melting softness. Had she merely imagined it?
‘Bloody stupid woman,’ he growled in mock anger, shaking his head and smiling to show he wasn’t really serious. ‘Why the hell couldn�
�t you have just stayed still like 1 told you? The thing was headed away from you, after all.’
She shuddered at the thought of the writhing marine snake, unable to contain a renewed surge of terror. How could she possibly explain to this man, born and raised to accept such dangers as normal, how utterly frightening, how totally unnerving that single sea snake had been to her? No matter which way it was going!
The futility brought immediate anger, and she twisted in his grasp, her lips curling as she snapped, ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Put me down!’
‘Put you down?’ There was mockery in his eyes now, his arms closing even tighter around her slender figure.
‘Yes! Put me down — right this very minute!’ Holly spat out the command, knowing even as she did that she might as well have saved her breath. Issuing a command to Wade Bannister, she realised, was exactly the wrong approach, unless she wanted him to do just the opposite.
T think I’d rather hang on to you,’ he drawled, mischief twisting the corners of his generous mouth. ‘It isn’t every day I get to hold such a tasty morsel, and on such an aptly named beach, too.’
He grinned down at her shamelessly, and Holly noticed that he’d stopped his approach to the beach. Indeed, he was turned around and seemed headed back out to sea. Out to sea — where there were undoubtedly a thousand more sea snakes! She tried to object, but her voice emerged as a tiny shriek.
‘Wh ... what are you doing?’ she finally managed to stammer, her eyes fearfully scanning the turquoise waters as her arms clasped convulsively about his corded neck.
He merely chuckled, deliberately taunting. ‘I’m taking you back where I got you from, of course,’ he said, and Holly could tell that he meant it, that he was now enjoying every single instant of the torture.
Even as she realised that, he relaxed the arm beneath her knees, allowing her to slide into an upright position against him. And he was deep, so deep that her feet couldn’t touch bottom.
Instinctively, her arms locked around his neck. The last thing she now wanted was to be released, although she could hardly say so. Not in the face of that mocking grin. No, that would just be playing right into his hands, not that it could matter much she was there already.
Cyclone Season Page 14
