‘What do I feed them?’
The enormity of the situation slammed into her. She was the only one here and she would have four valuable horses to care for, two of which belonged to other people who Rod had assured would be well taken care of and safe. Goodness knows how long Rod would be gone, and even when he did come home he couldn’t work. Amy would go straight to Wagga to the hospital and stay there with him. Might be days before they discharged him.
Would she be able to handle it? She’d have to, there was no-one else and Oliver wouldn’t be able to stay here with her for long. He was already doing her a massive favour. Another one.
‘Not sure but I’ll mix up a basic feed bucket and you can watch me and do one each for the other three.’
The shower and drink vanished into the future.
Oliver didn’t return for nearly two and a half hours, during which time Krista took care of the horses, a task she discovered was quite enjoyable, checked there was enough food to put together a decent meal, made up the bed and cleaned the ensuite in the spare room where Hugh’s brother had stayed. Gemma, the maid, hadn’t changed the sheets or cleaned the bathrooms before they all left. She wouldn’t have had time. She’d also dragged her suitcase from the car and back upstairs to her room.
When Oliver came in through the sliding door to the garden, calling out, ‘I’m back,’ Krista was newly showered and in her skirt and last clean tank top. She’d need to do some washing later, having only brought clothes for a few days, most of them totally impractical for what lay ahead and all of them impregnated with the odour of smoke. The fluoro sneakers had given her blisters. Maybe Amy would lend her socks.
‘In the kitchen,’ she called.
He’d changed too and carried a backpack, which he dumped on the floor by the door.
‘Can I help?’
‘No, you’ve done enough. Sit down. Like a beer? Or there’s plenty of wine.’
‘A beer, thanks.’ He perched on a stool at the bench.
She gave him the beer and slid a plate of antipasti across before coming to sit beside him. ‘There’s a fair bit of food leftover. Do you mind steak again?’
‘Eating leftover steak? Not at all.’ He ate an olive. ‘Any of that chocolate mousse left?’
She smiled. ‘Yes. Enough to make you sick.’
He raised the beer bottle. ‘Cheers.’
She clinked her wine glass against it. ‘Cheers.’
‘I was listening to the radio on the way back and they said they have that main fire front under control but they’re worried if the wind comes up again they’ll lose it. Might get breakouts in other areas.’
‘So we could still be in trouble?’
‘Yep. Can’t rule it out until the end of the fire season. Trouble is, that’s getting longer each year.’
‘But the paddocks are so dry there isn’t much to burn.’
‘There’ll be enough. You’ve got trees all along the fences and the wind carries burning leaves and twigs for a long way. That’s how it jumps ahead. If that happens you have to put the spot fires out. At least you’ve got green gardens round the house.’
‘But won’t we be out of here by then?’
‘Should be. I’m just saying …’
‘Is Taylor’s Bend safe?’
‘Nowhere is really safe but the Bend has never been burnt out. We’ve had a couple of grassfires but nothing completely out of control. The town is tucked away in the hills, a bit sheltered, and the river acts as a firebreak of sorts.’
Krista took a cracker biscuit with a piece of camembert. ‘What a day.’
‘Have you found Lola?’
‘Gosh! No. I’d forgotten all about her. I’ve no idea where she could be.’
‘Maybe she got shut in somewhere the night of the party when everyone was packing up.’
‘Maybe. But she’d bark.’
‘Not necessarily. We should take another quick look around the garden. I will, if you like. Fresh eyes.’
‘I’ll come too.’
Oliver took some crackers and cheese then headed for the door. The dog had been missing for over twelve hours. If she wasn’t injured she’d be all right. Thirsty and hungry but not in danger. If she’d been bitten by something she was unlikely to be alive. Did Krista realise?
‘Krista,’ he said. ‘If she was bitten by a tick or a snake she may not have survived.’
‘I know.’ She flicked him a tiny smile. ‘But thanks.’
The sun was just disappearing behind the stables, casting an eerie red orange glow over the garden. Smoke hung in the air but the wind had almost died away.
‘I hate that smell,’ she said. ‘It’s in everything.’
‘Yeah, it stinks. You’ve checked all the bushes, I suppose?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Any sheds in the gardens?’
‘None in this area but the garden shed is around to the side. She couldn’t get in there. The gardener hasn’t been here since Thursday.’
‘Did you look?’
‘I opened the door and called her. The same with the pool house. I’m the only one who swims and I don’t go in there. No-one else was using that.’
‘That you know of.’ Nothing that crowd did would surprise him. They were like square dancers—change your partners and do-si-do.
Krista threw him a startled look. ‘I suppose any of the guests could have gone in.’
‘Let’s check the shed first.’
Oliver peered into the gloomy interior. Krista flicked a switch on, bathing the contents in bright light. As far as garden sheds went, this one was the deluxe version and totally unlike any sheds he’d ever seen. Everything was arranged neatly on shelves and the larger equipment like the mower, two chainsaws, an edger and a whipper snipper were ranged along the far wall. He walked in and moved some sacks of fertiliser aside, pretty certain Lola wasn’t here but making the effort anyway.
‘You’re right.’ He turned off the light.
‘The pool is around the corner.’
An inviting expanse of water lay before him in a twenty-five-metre rectangle, surrounded by paving. ‘Wow. Nice.’
‘You can have a swim if you like.’
‘Might take you up on that later.’
He skirted around the water to the white-painted cabana on the far side, tucked into the corner with a slate terrace, bare now, save for a deck chair and two sun lounges.
‘We should put those inside,’ he said.
Krista took the cushions off the lounges while Oliver folded the deck chair. She helped him carried the lot in to the pool house.
Inside was a tiled room furnished with cane chairs with big padded green cushions, a table, a bar in one corner and three closed doors opposite the entrance.
‘I didn’t open those,’ said Krista. ‘I assumed she couldn’t get in there.’
Oliver strode across and flung one open. ‘She probably couldn’t but you never know. If someone came in she might have followed without them knowing.’
The room had a bed with rumpled sheets and pillows out of place. Two empty champagne bottles lay on the floor and empty glasses sat on the bedside table.
‘Visitors, I’d say.’ He threw Krista a grin but she was already in the room, flinging open the wardrobe door and almost climbing in to look.
‘Not here.’
An adjoining door led into a small bathroom with a shower and toilet. Nowhere in there for a dog to hide. Oliver went back into the main area and opened the remaining door. It was a walk-in linen press with shelves holding towels and scuffs, and a couple of robes in the hanging space. Curled up on the floor was Lola.
‘She’s here.’ He squatted down to examine her. No injuries but fast breaths, listless and hot.
Krista squeezed in beside him. ‘Is she alive?’
‘Yes. Dehydrated but she’ll be fine.’
He scooped up the little dog and took her to the bathroom. She licked the water he dripped into her mouth while Krista watch
ed, hands tightly clasped.
‘Good girl, Lola.’ He glanced at Krista. Tears shimmered on her eyelids. ‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘She’ll be fine.’
She ran a hand across her eyes and smiled, reaching out to pat Lola gently on the head.
‘Let’s get her to the house. I’ve got some rehydration sachets in my bag.’
‘I’ll get it,’ she said. ‘Where is it?’
‘In the car, back seat. Black leather.’
***
Fortunately Lola drank the liquid Oliver prepared, and as he suspected it would, the electrolyte replacement worked well. Krista had brought her blanket in and folded it in the corner for her to lie on.
‘It’s lucky she was indoors,’ he said, looking down at her as she lapped up the quantity he’d given her. ‘It was cooler and the air is clean in there.’
‘Someone must have shut her in deliberately,’ said Krista.
Satisfied Lola was in recovery mode, she’d finally got up from the floor beside her where she’d been offering encouragement and begun to grill the steaks on the hi-tech stovetop. He hadn’t wanted to prompt her by suggesting he cook but he was starving and it had been a long, long day. The platter of antipasti was gone, but olives and a few bits of salami and cheese barely hit the sides.
‘She might have barked too much when they were trying to be secretive.’ Oliver drank his neglected beer. Warm. He put it in the massive fridge and opened another bottle. There was enough food in that thing to withstand a year-long siege.
‘So they shoved her in the cupboard and forgot to let her out.’
‘Probably too drunk.’
Krista snorted. ‘I hate those people. If Mama divorces Hugh I won’t have to see any of them ever again. I hope she does.’
‘You don’t need to see them anyway, do you? You must have your own friends.’
‘I do but …’
‘But?’
‘I don’t know if I have anything much in common with most of them. My best friend, Trudi, got married last year and they moved to Switzerland.’
He cast his mind around for a positive comment. ‘That guy at our table seemed okay. The older one you danced with.’
‘Jack. Yes, he’s nice.’
‘And I met someone earlier. An elderly lady in pale purple. I’ve forgotten her name but she was nice.’ About seventy but still … a nice lady.
‘I don’t know who that was. All sorts of people came who had nothing to do with them personally.’
She turned the steaks over in a sizzle of steam and the delicious smell set saliva flowing. Lola, having finished the fluid, looked up from her blanket and sniffed.
‘She’s feeling better,’ he said. ‘We can give her a bit of soft food in a little while.’
‘You know what I think?’ she said. ‘I think Hugh and Gwen were in that room. Lola would probably follow Hugh, and if Mama had already left she’d stick with him. He doesn’t like her much.’
Oliver sighed. ‘Krista, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know these people. I’m sorry you’re in the situation you’re in, but I think you should look on it as an opportunity to make some decisions for yourself. Be you.’
‘I think these are ready.’ She put the steaks on a plate and covered them with foil. ‘They should rest for a few minutes. I’ll set the table in the other room.’
Here came the ice maiden again. Whenever he suggested she be proactive instead of being the victim, he could almost see the frost forming. He didn’t care if the steaks rested or not but he wasn’t arguing with her in that mood.
He took their glasses and obediently went in the direction she pointed.
Krista ate slowly despite being hungry. Oliver had attacked her again and his words hurt. Couldn’t he see she was trying? At the moment she had no choice but to assume Rod’s role and attempt to take care of Hugh’s property and the horses. How could she make plans for her own future in these circumstances? He knew she couldn’t go home to her apartment. What did he expect?
He said, ‘I’ll give Abbie a call after dinner and see if she needs help painting sets.’
‘What?’ She looked at him blankly.
‘You said you’d like to help out with the show. Patience.’ He cut off a lump of meat. ‘Great steak. Thanks.’
‘Right. yes. Thanks, that’d be good.’
He sat there so calmly, enjoying his dinner. Life was simple for him, doing work he loved, in a community he loved.
‘I need to call my brother too,’ he said. ‘He broke his leg somehow. Mum phoned to tell me just before I came out here.’
‘Gosh, him too? Are broken legs the fashion?’
He laughed. ‘These things are supposed to come in threes. We’d better be careful.’
‘We could count Angus as the first. He cracked a rib and sprained his wrist in the accident.’
‘We’re safe then.’ His gaze caught hers and stuck. Her hand froze on the fork she was holding, breath stalled in her lungs. He smiled and her mouth curved all by itself. How did he do that? One minute she was angry and hurt by his words, the next he’d moved on and made her laugh. He didn’t hold a grudge, that was for sure. Did she?
He’d begun eating again, piling potato salad onto his plate, oblivious to the turmoil he aroused across the table.
‘How many brothers and sisters do you have?’ she asked. He knew a lot about her disastrous family, she knew nothing about his.
‘Just Julian. He’s older. He’s a very successful lawyer in Sydney.’
‘Is he married? Do you have nieces and nephews?’
‘No. He swore off women a few years ago when his fiancée dumped him. They met at university and he was devastated when she called it off.’
‘Poor man.’
‘Better before than after.’
‘Not much consolation.’
‘S’pose not.’
What about Oliver? Did he have a lost love? A broken heart? Or did he break hearts? No, not that, not deliberately. He was too kind, too honest.
‘And what about your parents?’ The vague reference he’d made at the party last night popped into her head. What was it he’d said? Something about his father. That Hugh’s friends reminded him of his father. In what way?
‘My father is one of the most eminent cardiologists in the country. My mother runs the house and looks after him.’
‘They must be proud of you and your brother.’
He nodded but something in his expression made her ask, ‘What did you mean when you said those people reminded you of your father? I mean Gwen and Felix and the Trues.’
‘Snobs,’ he said. ‘They think the money you earn defines you and your place in society. Worse than that. Defines you as a person, your value as a person. My father wanted me to be a doctor like him. He thinks being a vet is a waste of my talent and living out here is completely insane.’
‘But that’s ridiculous. How could anyone think that? Especially a parent whose child is happy, well-educated and employed?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m sure a lot do—parents who think their children are a disappointment. They might not say so but they often don’t have to. The children know.’
Angus was a perfect example and Hugh made no secret of it. A pang of sympathy for her stepbrother took her by surprise. For all her faults, her mother never gave her the feeling she was a disappointment.
‘What about your mother?’
‘She rarely has an opinion of her own. She follows my father’s lead in everything.’
Krista sipped her wine as understanding dawned. No wonder Oliver had been so vehement about a woman’s reason for marrying. And so forthright when he encouraged her to find her own way in life. But it needn’t be all bad, need it? The homemaker role as a wife was a choice. A choice few women could afford to make these days when she remembered the juggling act of those women with young children in her various workplaces.
It was something she’d never have to consider from a financial aspect.
&n
bsp; ‘Is she happy?
‘I think so. To a point. But if she wasn’t, I doubt she’d have the strength to leave.’
Was he trying to tell her his father was physically abusive? Surely he and his brother would intervene if that were the case?
‘He’s not violent, is he?’
‘No, no! He’d never hit anyone.’ He smiled but it was sour, quite unlike his usual crinkly eyed grin. ‘His hands are too precious to risk damaging. No, it’s more that he sees his way as the only way. I’m sure he loves Mum and she loves him.’
‘That’s like Hugh. His way is the only way.’
Then Oliver caught her offside again. ‘Krista, I’m sorry if I bully you about finding your own life. It’s just that … my mother has never had the opportunity to explore what she could be. She’s always subjugated her own wants and needs to my father’s. They were engaged very quickly after they met. He’d just graduated as a doctor and she had an office job she didn’t like much, so when he suggested she stop work and bring up their children she did. Now that we’re grown and gone, she only has my father and his career. I think she drifted into it without realising she was disappearing as a person in her own right.’
‘Oliver, she might be perfectly happy with her life.’
‘She says she is.’
‘Why not believe her?’
‘Because there’s never any discussion about the major decisions in their lives. He chose the house, he chose the car she should drive and the colour, he decided two children were enough when she wanted four. She always wanted a daughter. He thinks holidays are a waste of time so he never takes her away on one. She likes opera and musicals but he hates them so she never gets to go unless it’s a charity event or something, and he’s given tickets and has to put in an appearance.’
Krista listened intently to the eye-opening rant. It was clearly a subject that affected him deeply and touched emotions she’d had no idea were lurking beneath the laidback exterior. Was she the first person to hear all this? If so, it was a humbling privilege she really didn’t deserve and had no idea how to respond to.
He stopped talking abruptly. ‘Sorry.’
Krista shook her head. ‘Don’t be.’ She toyed with the stem of her wineglass, forming and discarding sentences in her mind. ‘You know, when I was young I always envied my friends and other kids with two parents at home—who had a proper family. But now I know everyone has their own problems. No-one has the perfect family. At least not that I’ve come across yet.’
Where There Is Smoke Page 15
