Where There Is Smoke

by Elisabeth Rose

  The first rehearsal after his injury had been reasonably successful and he discovered that he hadn’t missed much in the two weeks he’d been unable to attend. His young cello-playing companion, Emma, was quietly delighted to see him, the evidence in her pink-cheeked fluster and her relief that he could play the difficult sections she was yet to master. The rest of the string section was struggling with the speed factor, resulting in intonation that reminded him of the noises emanating from some of his distressed patients. Cats, in particular.

  The days chugged by and every morning he woke wondering if it was too soon to phone Krista and ask how she was. He’d seen her on Thursday, by Monday he figured it was about the right time. She took an age to answer. Had she seen his name on the screen and let it go through?

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘It’s Oliver.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘How are you? How’s your arm?’ She sounded as though she was struggling to maintain her interest in the conversation.

  ‘Almost better. I’ve been practising again and I went to rehearsal last week.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘How are the sets coming along?’ He held his breath, half-expecting her to say she’d given it away.

  ‘Abbie seems happy with what I’ve done.’ There was a tinge of surprise in her voice.

  ‘That’s great, she was really pleased you could help.’

  ‘Have you been discussing me?’ she said sharply.

  ‘I was the one who asked her on your behalf,’ he retorted. ‘Remember?’

  Silence. He thought she might hang up but she said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Krista. I’d really like to come to see you,’ he said.

  More silence.

  ‘Can I?’

  ‘I don’t think I’m ready.’ Her voice shook. Was she crying?

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about you,’ he said softly, tentatively. His empty hand curled into a fist, the fingers clenched tightly against this palm. Too much? Doc said don’t push but he had to let her know.

  ‘I … I’m sorry.’ The phone clicked in his ear.

  Not ready. He sucked in air. Not ready was better than I don’t want to. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d wait. Patience. How apt.

  ***

  Krista discovered she enjoyed painting. After the storm, the temperature had dropped to bearable and more rain had fallen, mostly in the late evenings and overnight. She opened the wide terrace doors and put music on. Abbie had emailed a link the cast and orchestra had been sent and she played it as she worked. The jolly tunes and silly lyrics added to the experience and she began to feel she was making a contribution to something, a feeling that was reinforced when Abbie arrived a few days later with an extra tin of green paint and exclaimed over her efforts.

  ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘I love the flowers. The colours look great. It’s not too dull for you is it, doing this?’

  ‘I like it. I need something easy. I’m not very smart.’

  Abbie frowned. ‘Who told you that?’

  Krista rubbed her lips together. ‘I didn’t do very well at school.’ Changing homes, countries and schools each time Mama remarried didn’t help.

  ‘That doesn’t mean you’re not smart. I was only interested in the art classes. I’m hopeless at maths and hated science.’

  ‘But you’re really good at art. I quite liked maths but I wasn’t brilliant. Oliver said I could be whatever I liked, so did Brenda, my mother’s assistant, but I don’t have a clue. Oliver said I could open a fashion shop or a fancy restaurant.’

  ‘You could if you wanted, but I think they require total dedication and passion and I’m not sure either would take off in this town. What else do you know about?’

  ‘Mama organised PA jobs for me with her friends but they were favours, and all I had to do was book restaurants and things like that. I quite like cooking but I don’t want to be a chef.’

  ‘If you like painting you could try a drawing course.’ Abbie smiled. ‘No reason not to try a few things and find out what you like. Willoughby has some community classes in different subjects. Mind you, the attendees are usually the over-seventies crowd. And there’s a technical college in Wagga that offers all sorts of things. Book-keeping maybe, if you’re a maths person?’

  That wasn’t going to happen, not with her scarred face.

  ‘Rod said I was good with the horses, that they liked me. I helped Oliver with his patients once. I’ve never thought of it before but I do like animals.’

  ‘There you go. There are all sorts of jobs in connection with animals. You’ve got a stable full right here.’

  Abbie’s casual assumption that when Krista found something that appealed she’d be good at it was encouraging and unlike Brenda, she wasn’t suggesting tackling something as daunting as a university degree.

  A burst of gratitude made her say, ‘Do you have time for coffee?’

  ‘I do. Thanks.’

  In the kitchen, Abbie sat at the table while Krista started the espresso coffeemaker.

  ‘Where’s Charlotte today?’

  ‘Georgia came home last night so I dropped her off on my way here.’

  ‘Don’t they live with you?’

  ‘When the baby was born, Georgia did for a while but now she has a house in town.’

  ‘Is she a single mother?’

  ‘Yes, and she’s never told us who the father is.’

  ‘Gosh.’

  ‘She’s a very independent girl, always has been.’ Abbie pulled a face. ‘She can be prickly so I don’t ask.’

  ‘What’s she studying?’

  ‘English. Creative writing.’

  ‘That must be hard with a baby.’

  ‘Yes, but she has us as backup and she found a good babysitter. She also works part-time for Arlo at the local newspaper. It’s fairly new. It’s called Round the Bend.’

  ‘As a reporter?’

  ‘Yes, and the photographer.’

  ‘Is she helping with Patience?’

  ‘She’s in the chorus and she’s helped me a bit.’

  Krista handed Abbie her coffee and sat opposite with her own cup. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have any biscuits or cake.’ Georgia sounded an extraordinary person. Like her mother.

  ‘I don’t need anything to eat, thanks. It’s great coffee.’

  ‘Thanks. Hugh only buys the best coffee beans.’

  Abbie smiled and took another sip. ‘How long do they think it will take the scar to heal?’

  Krista’s hand froze halfway to her coffee. She couldn’t speak. Chatting with Abbie had made her forget.

  ‘It’s looking better already,’ said Abbie. ‘A lot of the redness has gone since I saw you.’

  ‘A couple of months, the doctor said.’ Her voice came out hoarse and choked in her throat.

  ‘Do you have to do anything at home? Rub cream in or something?’

  ‘I massage Vaseline in four times a day.’

  Abbie nodded. ‘It’s working. The healing power of the body is amazing. Apparently the face heals faster because of all the blood vessels there. More than other parts of the body.’ She smiled. ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Krista.’

  Krista shook her head as unwelcome tears dripped down her cheeks. ‘I was beautiful, now there’s nothing.’

  ‘Who tells you this rubbish?’ Abbie leaned forward and grasped her hand.

  ‘My mother,’ she whispered.

  ‘She’s wrong.’ Abbie spoke with such confidence that for the first time in her life, a little glow of hope fought for existence. Was Mama wrong?

  ‘You don’t know me.’

  ‘I know enough and so does Oliver.’

  ‘He only thinks he knows me.’ As she spoke, a little voice in her head told her that wasn’t true. Oliver had seen right through her and found the vulnerable, sore spots e
asily.

  ‘No-one ever really knows another person. I was married to my first husband for twenty years and he still surprised the hell out of me at the end. I had no idea what he was like all that time. Fortunately he wasn’t a normal specimen of humanity.’

  Her candour jolted Krista. What was the man? A serial killer? ‘How did you trust Rupe enough to marry again after that experience?’

  ‘He was too good to pass up through my fear of the unknown. The odds were in my favour because he’d been so wonderful and I had a fair idea I’d be unlikely to have another chance. And I love him and I know he loves me.’

  ‘You were brave. Braver than I am.’

  ‘I was terrified. I was also a mess for weeks after the whole thing was over. The counsellor I saw told me not everyone gets PTSD. I didn’t and you mightn’t either. What you’re going through now is part of the natural aftermath. Your brain and body need to process it all.’

  Krista looked at the smiling confident woman across the table. Could she ever be like her?

  ‘Doc said to see a counsellor if I felt I needed. He gave me a card.’

  ‘Do you think you will?’

  ‘I don’t have the nightmares so often now … just sometimes. And the panicky sweating has stopped.’

  ‘No shame in seeing someone if you want to.’ Abbie squeezed her hand. ‘You know what they say—fake it till you make it. That’s what I did and so can you. My art was a lifeline. When I paint, I forget everything.’

  ‘I’m finding that too, and I listen to the music you sent while I paint.’

  Chapter 19

  After Abbie’s visit, Krista tackled her painting task with renewed enthusiasm so when the phone rang she was annoyed, considered not answering, but picked it up to check the caller. Brenda.

  ‘How are you, Krista? I’m so sorry I haven’t called earlier but we were out of the country and well … you know Viivi.’

  ‘I do. Thank you for calling, Brenda. I’m doing okay.’

  ‘It must have been a hideous experience. Do they know who kidnapped you?’

  ‘Two of Stefan Moran’s men. They locked me up to teach me a lesson for being rude to him. It was about Angus’s debt. The police haven’t told me anymore about it. The local policeman told me it would be difficult to prove Moran was involved and the men who held me wore balaclavas. I had no idea where they took me.’

  ‘And what about Angus? Has he reappeared?’

  ‘Yes. How much do you know about it?’ she asked. Brenda sounded as unconcerned as Mama, which was unusual.

  ‘Hardly anything. Viivi told me Hugh said you’d been kidnapped but released unharmed, so she didn’t worry too much.’

  ‘Unharmed? Brenda, they locked me a room for two days then cut my cheek open.’

  ‘What?’ she shrieked. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell us?’

  ‘I thought Mama or Hugh might contact me to ask. Or even visit me.’ She couldn’t keep the acid from her tone.

  ‘You poor darling. Is it bad? Are you being looked after?’

  ‘They say I’ll have a scar but it won’t be very noticeable. I am being looked after. People here are very kind.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I feel so guilty. If I’d known I would have come straight away.’

  ‘Brenda, don’t tell Mama. She rang to see if I’d keep Lola but I didn’t tell her anything. She’s not interested anyway.’

  ‘She’s preoccupied with this India thing. Krista, I can come to stay with you. You need some company and someone to look after you. How about it?’

  ‘Actually … I think I’d rather get through this on my own. Not that I wouldn’t love you to come, I would and of course you can—but later. I think I need to sort out who I am and I need to do it by myself.’

  ‘Good for you. I completely understand. Let me know when you’re ready for a visitor.’

  ‘We may have to move from here. Hugh wants to sell, and Rod and Amy can’t afford to buy it although they want to.’

  ‘That’s a shame. Will you move back to Melbourne?’

  ‘No. I want to stay in Taylor’s Bend.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I can’t go back to what I was doing, you already know that.’

  ‘Yes. Are there opportunities there?’

  ‘Abbie, a friend I’ve met here, suggested I try a few courses and find something that interests me.’

  ‘That’s what I said. It’s a good opportunity while you’re recovering, to explore your options.’

  ‘I know. At the moment I’m helping paint sets for their musical in June.’

  ‘Sounds fun. And what about that lovely vet? I thought he was rather special.’

  ‘He is but …’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Brenda, I’m ugly. This scar is hideous. I can’t let him see me. I don’t go out of the house.’

  ‘Other people see you, don’t they? Rod and Amy must, and your friend Abbie?’

  ‘Yes, but they’re different.’

  ‘How?’

  How? It was Oliver who was different. Oliver who was special. Oliver she wanted so desperately to love her.

  ‘When I first met Oliver, he didn’t like me at all and I didn’t know why. He was attracted, physically, like men always are, but I realised after a bit that he knew immediately that I wasn’t what he wanted. He wants a smart woman who knows things. He plays the cello and he’s intelligent and he’s a vet. I can’t do anything useful and now I’m not even beautiful.’

  Brenda laughed softly. ‘Did he say that?’

  ‘He didn’t need to.’

  ‘Does he know you speak five languages?’

  ‘No. What’s that go to do with anything?’

  ‘I speak one. English. You’re as smart as anyone, Krista, you just know different things. And give the poor man some credit. He was only at that party because of you. He’s smitten, believe me.’

  ‘I thought he was, but that was before.’

  ‘Didn’t you go through that bushfire emergency with him and save the horses?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s hardly being useless. Hugh was impressed.’

  ‘He didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Didn’t he? I guess he was preoccupied. He was in Japan at those meetings. He told me when he got back.’

  ‘Would he change his mind about selling The Grange?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Why don’t you buy it from him if you like it so much? You’ve got the money.’

  ‘Me? I can’t run this place.’

  ‘Talk to Rod and Amy and see if you can be partners. Go halves. I’m sure they’d be interested. You get on well, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, we do. I’ve got to know them better recently.’ Better than her Melbourne friends.

  ‘Think about it. Talk to Hugh. He might be willing to negotiate. He wants your mother back and this might be a tick in his favour.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘Worth a try.’

  ‘Thanks, Brenda. ‘

  ‘Let me know when this show is on and I’ll come to see it. What is it?’

  ‘Patience.’

  ‘Oh, that’ll be heaps of fun. I love G&S. Haven’t seen one for years.’

  ‘I’ve never seen one.’

  ‘Let me know how you’re getting on, won’t you?’

  ‘I will. Thanks for calling.’

  She hung up and wiped a couple of tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Brenda was more of a mother than Mama. And her idea of buying into The Grange was temptingly good. Why hadn’t that occurred to her before? She had money and what better way to spend some of it than investing in a property and a home for not only herself, but also Rod and Amy?

  She washed her brushes and packed up the painting gear, then, with Lola trotting happily alongside, went to find Rod.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked after he’d called Amy to the office and Krista had outlined her proposal, standing, while the pair of them sat before her on the only two chairs. She felt l
ike a schoolgirl presenting her work to the teacher.

  Amy looked at Rod. Her expression was one of astonishment, but pleased or horrified, Krista couldn’t tell.

  ‘I can talk to Hugh and see if he’s willing to lower the price if you think it might work. I’d be a silent partner. I wouldn’t interfere in the way you run the place. As long as I can live here.’ Did she sound as desperate and hopeful as she was?

  Amy stood up. ‘Please, please call Hugh.’ She flung her arms around Krista and hugged her tightly. When she released her, Rod did the same and then hugged Amy. Both had tears in their eyes.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Amy. ‘I never imagined you’d want to be involved in this place.’

  ‘Neither did I,’ said Krista. ‘But when Brenda suggested it, it was obvious.’

  Rod and Amy went to finish off some chores in the stable while Krista made the call. Amy wanted to listen in but Rod pulled her out of the office and closed the door. Krista sat in Rod’s chair and dialled the number.

  ‘Krista, lovely girl. How are you?’ Hugh boomed.

  ‘I’m recovering. It’s slow.’

  ‘I’ve been making some moves. Moran won’t get away with this even if the police don’t catch those two men.’ His voice changed. ‘Did you know that pair who attacked you and your friend were found recently? They’d been shot.’

  ‘No!’ Rupe hadn’t told her. Had he told Oliver?

  ‘It’s not surprising. That’s how Moran deals with people who fail him.’

  ‘He could have had me killed. Or Angus.’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t do that. He knows I can take steps to influence his businesses. And I will. He harmed you and he has to bear the consequences,’ he said grimly.

  ‘What will you do? Hugh, please don’t upset him. What if he comes after me again?’

  ‘He won’t.’

  ‘That’s what you said last time.’

  ‘Keep this quiet and don’t tell a soul, but very soon all his businesses will be investigated by the government and the police. They’ll be looking at corruption and under the tableland deals and contracts. They’ll look at everything he owns and poke into every corner of his life.’