Читать книгу Outback Wife and Mother - Barbara Hannay - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

ALLY looked up sleepily as Fletcher emerged from the bathroom, a huge white towel looped around his lean hips. Her breath caught in her throat. All this dark-haired, broad-shouldered, lean-and-muscled masculine perfection was about to walk out of her life just as abruptly as it had appeared. How could the time have flown so quickly?

Monday morning had never felt so bad.

Over the weekend, she and Fletcher had been together for every moment their work commitments spared them, and Ally was delighted to discover that there were so many other wonderful qualities about this man apart from his superb body. She and Fletcher had meshed on so many levels—emotional, physical and intellectual. It had been like meeting a soul mate.

But it had been all too short.

‘Did we really only meet two night’s ago?’ she asked, while her thoughts echoed silently—I feel as if I’ve known you all my life.

Her knees tucked under her chin, Ally watched from the bed as Fletcher slowly buttoned his shirt, looking down at her with a regretful, thoughtful smile.

He crossed the room to sit on the edge of her mattress. ‘I think there’s a New Age term for the way we met,’ he said. ‘We experienced a defining moment.’ He lifted his hand as if he were going to reach for her, but stopped, the hand hovering in midair. He sighed and stood up again, reaching instead for the lavender lace nightdress which was crumpled at the bottom of her bed. Tossing it to her, he flashed a cheeky smile. ‘And I’d say you’ve been redefined as a purple passionfruit.’

Ally plucked at the garment. Her fondness for all shades of purple had amused and enchanted Fletcher. Until now it had simply been a colour she often chose to wear because it complemented her dark hair, pale skin and clear, grey eyes. But Fletcher had insisted her favourite colour was symbolic of the newly discovered passionate side to her nature she had never known existed.

She tried desperately to smile back at him. But it was difficult to hide the despair she felt at the reality of Fletcher’s leaving. Any minute now the taxi would be pulling up in the street below and he would be walking out of her life, catching the early flight back to North Queensland and his cattle and his outback. He might as well be heading for Mars.

‘I suppose you could call our meeting a defining moment,’ she said, but then in the next breath, she blurted out, ‘But what about the old-fashioned description—love at first sight across a crowded room?’

‘Love?’ Fletcher looked down at her, startled. ‘When I’m about to catch a plane to the back of beyond...’ He paused in the act of threading a plaited leather belt through the loops of his jeans and his eyes darkened to a worried navy blue. ‘We can’t afford to get overly romantic, Ally.’

She felt her face flood with scarlet and a cold hand clamp tightly round her heart. She’d been caught out making the oldest mistake of all. Confusing passionate sex with love and respect and compatibility. Fletcher had never promised her anything more than three nights.

And now their time was up. And she was grown up. This was the real world.

But how could she bear it?

Then it happened just as Ally knew it would. The taxi arrived, with a screech of tyres and a blast of its horn. Fletcher clasped her to him, kissed her, held her, whispered soothing nothings, kissed her again. And then he was gone. The door closed behind him with a soft sigh and she heard his footsteps on the pavement below, the slam of a car door. And it was all over. Just like that.

She couldn’t move. She should have been eating breakfast, dressing for work, but she lay there in the bed wondering how something so wonderful could leave her feeling so lonely and desolate. The usual expectant tingle she felt at the start of the working week had vanished. Her mind, her heart, her body—all of her was numb—a huge gaping vacuum.

Well, she thought with chagrin, Fletcher Hardy had taught her one thing—actually, several if the truth be told. She had never known that lovemaking could be so imaginative, beautiful and exciting all at once. But the end result was her very sure knowledge that she was not the type to enjoy casual sex. It had never happened that way before. Never before had she simply met a man she wanted and thought that alone was an excuse for intimacy. And now she was paying the price for giving away her heart and her body so easily.

She had fallen in love. Hopeless, unreturned love.

She rolled over and buried her head in the pillow, giving in to the luxury of tears—of huge, gasping, noisy sobs.

She wasn’t sure how long she had lain there deep in her misery before the phone on her bedside table rang loudly, startling her. Automatically, she lifted the receiver without stopping to consider that she was in no fit state to take a call.

‘Hello, Ally. Ally, are you there?’

‘Yes,’ she blubbered, shoving the bunched-up corner of the sheet into her mouth to stifle more sobs.

‘Ally, it’s Lucette.’

‘Oh, hi. How—how are you?’

‘Much better thanks. But I was knocked out by this flu. I can’t believe my rotten luck missing the show.’

‘Oh, Lucette, you poor thing. I meant to ring you, but—I got caught up. I know that sounds a rather lame excuse. Your set was wonderful! It really was marvellous.’

‘I’m glad everything was OK. Do you have the flu now, Ally? You sound awful.’

‘My nose is a bit stuffed up,’ admitted Ally, reaching for a tissue. ‘By the way, I met your cousin,’ she added, regretting, even as the words left her lips, her feeble, weak will.

‘Fletcher? Really? I hadn’t heard from him so I assumed he didn’t make it to the show. Poor fellow, I bet he hated it. It’s not really his scene at all.’

‘Oh, he seemed fairly interested in some aspects of it.’

‘What did you think of him?’ asked Lucette, a subtle lilt in her voice implying past experience of Fletcher’s effect on women. ‘Most of my friends think he’s pretty cute.’

I’ il bet they do, thought Ally with a stab of foolish jealousy. How many other friends of Lucette’s had Fletcher dallied with? ‘He—he seemed very presentable,‘ she mumbled.

‘Anyhow you’d be wasting your time looking twice at Fletcher,’ continued Lucette.

‘Oh?’ Ally tried for nonchalance, but the word emerged as more of a desperate honk.

‘Oh, he has too much bush in his blood. I mean, I grew up in the bush, too—on a property not far from his, but I was glad to leave the outback. But Fletcher will never leave. He’s totally committed to his property. Passionate about the land. So there’s not much future for a city girl with a man like him.’

‘Fair enough,’ replied Ally, trying to sound bored, wishing she’d had more common sense than to allow this conversation to turn to Fletcher. ‘Did you read the coverage of our show in the newspapers?’ she asked, trying to steer Lucette back to safer ground.

But she didn’t hear Lucette’s reply. As she sat there on her bed, the phone clutched in one hand and a bunch of tissues in the other, she heard a familiar, authoritative knock at her front door. Her heart stilled.

Ally dropped the phone, then picked it up and spluttered. ‘I—I’m sorry, Lucette. I’ve got to go.’

Then, her heart thundering in her chest, she bounded out of bed and snatched up a towelling bathrobe, tying it around her as she hurried across the room. It couldn’t be! Surely not.

At the front door, she paused and took a deep breath. Don’t be ridiculous, she warned herself. He’s on the plane. This will be someone from work. Get a grip! But it was a shaking hand she raised to the latch.

She inched the door open. At first, all she could see was an enormous bunch of Cooktown orchids with lilac petals and purple throats. But then, from behind them, came Fletcher’s uncertain smile.

‘Oh!’

‘These were the only purple flowers I could find,’ he said with an apologetic grin and a slight shrug of one broad shoulder. ‘I know it’s your favourite colour and—’

‘Fletcher, you’re still here.’

‘I couldn’t do it, Ally,’ he whispered into her hair as she flung her arms around him. ‘I don’t know what this means, but I couldn’t get on that plane. I...’

The rest of his words were lost as she linked her hands behind his neck and, with a gesture that felt as right and natural as breathing, pulled his face and his beautiful, sensuous mouth to meet hers.

She managed to wangle a week’s special leave. The following days and nights were perfect. They drove into the country and wandered hand in hand through fields of springtime wild flowers. They dined out, cooked for each other, brought home take-away meals and watched movies together. Sensational days and mghts. Ally had never had so much fun, had never felt so happy. It was a happiness she knew could not last, but she refused to think about the future, and had absolutely no inclination to think about her work.

And the Cooktown orchids were the first of many purple presents. Fletcher showered her with gifts; chocolate hearts with violet cream centres, a purple velvet evening bag, a box of crystallised violets and finally a beautiful pendant with amethysts set in filigree silver.

Two nights before she was due back at work they lay together on her wide bed, their bodies gleaming in the silvery light of the moon that shone through a high arched window, listening to one of Ally’s favourite Brahms sonatas. Rolling onto his side so that, propped on one elbow, he could look into her eyes, Fletcher smiled tenderly. ‘I shall never, ever forget you, Ally.’ With a long finger, he traced the silvery outline of her body. ‘This neat silhouette will be my most precious memory,’ he told her, his voice husky.

‘I’ve never been so happy.’ She laughed, kissing him. ‘I’ve quite shocked myself.’

Fletcher’s blue eyes widened. ‘Shocked as in horrified, or shocked as in surprised?’

‘Oh, surprised. Very pleasantly surprised.’ She bent over him, enjoying the hungry glint in his eyes as her breasts grazed his chest. She nibbled gently at the stubble on his chin. ‘I’ve never been like this before. Wanting to make love over and over. Never having enough.’

‘Some people might find that shocking,’ Fletcher agreed with a happy chuckle, ‘but I don’t have a problem with it.’

‘So, you’re not sleepy yet?’ she asked, her voice sultry with desire.

‘How could I sleep with your tempting little body draped all over me. Watch out, Ally, you’re about to be shocked some more, but I promise you’ll love it.’ And Fletcher was as good as his word.

The happy bubble burst with a phone call at breakfast.

Ally was making fruit salad, scooping out the fleshy pulp of a passionfruit and laughingly claiming that she bore absolutely no resemblance to the round purple fruit Fletcher had coined as her nickname.

The shrill summons of the telephone came from the lounge room.

‘I’ll get it,’ said Fletcher, helping himself to a cube of mango before he swung his long legs off the pine kitchen stool.

With a contented smile, Ally watched him stride across the room, then she continued to chop banana and squeeze lemon juice over it before adding it to the bowl. She was stirring all the fruits together, delighting in the fresh colour combinations of the different melons—the pale green of honeydew, combined with the deep pink of watermelon and the delicate orange of rockmelon—when she sensed Fletcher standing very still and quiet in the kitchen doorway. She looked up and was startled by his stunned, sad expression.

‘Fletcher, what’s the matter?’

‘There’s been an accident,’ he said quietly.

Ally felt her stomach lurch with a sudden horrible fear. She watched him walk towards her slowly, awkwardly, his mouth twisted with the effort to hold his emotions in check. ‘My best friend, Jock Lawrence and his wife, Lisa—killed in a car accident in Sydney.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

‘Yeah.’ Fletcher let out a weary sigh and sank back onto the kitchen stool, his shoulders slumped. Ally quickly moved to the other side of the bench and slipped her arms around him. She rested her cheek gently against his and he turned and kissed her in a brief acknowledgment of her offer of comfort. ‘I just can’t believe it. He was such a great guy. We went to school, to university...’

There was nothing she could say or do except stay there, holding him, letting him talk slowly, haltingly.

‘I’ll have to go, Ally. I mean I’d go to the fune-ftmeral anyway. But there’s his son—little Connor. He was the only—only survivor, strapped in one of those little seats in the back. I’m his godfather and, according to old Mr. Lawrence, I’ve also been named as his guardian.’

‘Guardian? Does that mean he’ll live with you?’

‘Perhaps. I’m not sure yet. He’s with his grandparents in Sydney at the moment, but they’re pretty old and frail. Jock’s father sounded very shaken.’ He stood up quickly, so quickly that her hands, as they fell away from his shoulders, slapped against her sides. ‘I’ll have to ring the airlines and make a booking. Oh, God, I can’t believe it.’

Ally followed him into her lounge room and sat some distance away watching as he dialled and waited for a connection, before speaking to the airline. She felt cold and lonely, knowing with a sudden certainty that this time when Fletcher left Melbourne he would be walking out of her life. Going back to his own people—where he belonged.

Eventually he hung up and told her softly. ‘I got a cancellation on the 9:00 a.m. flight.’

‘This morning?’ cried Ally in panic. ‘That’s only two hours away.’

‘I’m sorry, Ally, but Jock’s parents—I don’t know that they have anyone to help them deal with this.’

‘Of course, I understand,’ replied Ally, ashamed of her selfish outburst. ‘I’ll make us a pot of coffee.’

Fletcher was still sitting in the lounge chair, staring thoughtfully at a spot on the rug when she returned. He looked up.

‘Smells good.’ He smiled, his blue eyes warming as they linked with hers.

She handed him a steaming cup and then sat opposite him, curling her legs beneath her and hugging the mug of coffee to her chest as if for comfort.

‘I guess this brings back bad memories for you,’ he said gently.

Ally felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. She had told Fletcher just about everything there was to know about her and she guessed that he was referring to her own parents’ death in an aeroplane crash when she was seventeen. But that was not on her mind now. Sad as this accident was, all she could think about was what it meant to her relationship with Fletcher. There was so much she wanted to say, had needed to say all week.

In all the talk and all the passion and happiness they shared, they learned a lot about each other, but they skirted round the truth. They had never discussed their future because the horrible truth was that there was no possible future for them. Fletcher’s biannual visits to Melbourne were hardly the grounds for an ongoing relationship.

Fletcher put down his cup of coffee and stood up. He looked at her so sadly Ally felt tears spring to her eyes.

‘Ally, I’m sorry about this...’

‘Don’t be, Fletcher. You have to go.’

‘No, I mean I’m sony about us, about coming back and making things worse. If I’d left on Monday...’ He reached down and scooped her into his arms. ‘I should have been stronger. Should have been able to resist your spell. You’re so damn beautiful, Ally.’

How perfectly her body nestled into his. How much she wanted him to go on telling her she was beautiful.

‘But what you’re trying to say is...we come from two different, totally incompatible worlds,’ she said, her voice shaking with the effort to sound calm.

‘Too right,’ he sighed. ‘You do understand, sweetheart, don’t you?’

She nodded her head against his chest. Her throat was burning with hot tears. Fletcher’s long fingers played with her hair.

‘They warn us so much these days about the need for physical protection in a relationship, but that’s easy to look after. But protecting our emotions, that’s a different story.’

‘Perhaps there’s a solution,’ she couldn’t help adding.

‘No, I’ve thought and thought about it. There’s no way ahead for us, Ally. You have your career and I have my cattle.’

‘City girls have been happy in the country before today,’ she offered timidly. ‘Perhaps I should come and live with you on Wallaroo Downs.’

He broke away from her then, staring at her, his sky blue eyes puzzled, clearly shocked by her words. He shook his head slowly.

‘That’s a pretty fairy tale, and if it could come true I’d be the happiest man alive, but it wouldn’t—it couldn’t end in happily ever after.’

Ally felt a painful lump form in her throat, preventing a reply.

‘You see,’ he continued, the tone in his voice a daunting mixture of tenderness and regret, ‘there are more differences between us than my paddocks and your tar and cement. You’d hate the life I lead, Ally. You live in a world you’ve worked so hard to reach—and it’s so elegant and artistic.’

‘It’s not glamorous all the time,’ Ally managed to protest.

‘Sewing machine oil is the closest you’d come to grease and dirt,’ he said with a lopsided smile that wrenched at her heart. ‘I’m just sorry I’ve messed you up. I’ve never done anything so damned stupid in my life before.’

Ally’s chin came up defiantly. ‘I don’t think it was at all stupid. I’ve never had anything so wonderful happen to me—ever.’

Fletcher groaned and pulled her to him. ‘Listen, passionfruit,’ he whispered, ‘I have to pack and then I’m going to Sydney. And after that I’ll almost certainly have to get back to Wallaroo. There’s a muster coming up and I have to be back for that. Then, with a bit of luck, there’ll be a wet season. I can’t see us getting together again in a long while. You’re a beautiful, clever woman and this is where you belong. You have to get on with your brilliant career. There’s no other way of looking at this.’

She knew that as a woman of the nineties she should be able to handle this. People had relationships and then they moved on. It was as simple as that. It happened all around her all the time.

But not to her.

Ally glanced at the clock on the wall behind Fletcher. If he were to make it to his flight, he would have to get moving.

‘I’ll check out the laundry basket. See if you’ve left anything there,’ she said grimly with a small, dismissive shrug of her shoulders.

Fletcher packed in silence while Ally tidied the kitchen. They had never been so quick and efficient together. She insisted on driving him to the airport.

As her small sedan zipped along the freeway, she tried to forget about her own sadness and think of the poor little boy left without parents.

‘This little boy, Connor. Do you know him very well?’ she asked.

‘No. I have to admit, I haven’t seen all that much of him,’ admitted Fletcher. ‘I went to his christening when he was just a tiny tadpole—hadn’t even reached the ankle-biter stage. He must be three or four now. Last time I saw him he’d just started toddling around. As far as I remember, he looks like Jock.’ His voice broke a little. ‘Brown hair and eyes—going to be tall.’

Once they reached the busy, bustling airport, and Fletcher had queued then checked in, there was little time for conversation. And there was certainly no privacy for the kinds of things Ally would have liked to discuss. All too soon the flight to Sydney was boarding and for the last time she felt Fletcher’s strong arms around her, and his warm, delicious lips on hers.

‘Be beautiful, Ally,’ he whispered, his eyes glistening with a betraying dampness. Then he swung away quickly and strode through the doors of the departure lounge, leaving her without looking back.

She was prepared for his silence; she hadn’t expected him to ring her from Sydney. And she was prepared for the sense of desolation that swamped her. But what she hadn’t expected was the lassitude with which she returned to her work. She’d hoped that once back in the swing of things, the old enthusiasm for dealing with designs, textiles and market trends and the fascinating array of individuals associated with that world would rescue her from her misery.

It was with a growing sense of alarm that she faced each day at the office. She took her designs home to work on at night, hoping the soothing atmosphere of her own apartment would help inspiration to flow. With the spring and summer collection behind her, Ally had to plan for next year’s winter season and a juicy contract with the wool board was on offer. Normally she would have been thrilled. But she couldn’t concentrate and what was worse, much, much worse, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Her mind and her emotions were totally absorbed with Fletcher. Where was he now? Had he gone back to North Queensland? Had he taken little Connor with him? Did he think about her the way she thought endlessly of him?

After three weeks of silence and despair, she could stand it no longer. She had to make some kind of contact with him. Her first step was to ring Lucette.

‘Have I heard from Fletcher, Ally?’ Lucette repeated, her voice squeaking with surprise at Ally’s first question once the greetings were over. ‘Why, yes, I have actually. He rang from North Queensland just yesterday.’

‘You see,’ Ally offered with a silly little laugh, ‘I ended up seeing quite a bit of him while he was down here, but then he was called away for the funeral...’ Her voice trailed away as her tightly strung nerves clenched a notch tighter.

The stunned silence on the other end of the line didn’t help her feel any more relaxed.

‘Really?’ Lucette managed at last.

‘Does he have the little boy with him?’

‘No, not yet Connor’s still in Sydney with his grandparents. But as a matter of fact that’s why Fletcher rang me. He’s guardian for Connor and he wants me to find a nanny to travel up to Wallaroo Downs and help take care of him there.’

Ally closed her eyes against the frightening wave of dizziness that swamped her as a host of different pictures crowded her mind: pictures of Fletcher, sun-tanned, astride a horse somewhere in North Queensland; of Fletcher and a little brown-haired, brown-eyed boy walking hand in hand along a shady creek bank; of a young attractive nanny living with them both day in, day out.

‘Ally, are you still there?’

‘Yes, Lucette. I’m here. Listen, would you mind terribly much if I came and visited you? I need to talk.’

‘That’s fine,’ replied Lucette, unable to disguise her surprise. ‘I’ll be home all evening. You have my address?’

‘But, Ally, this is impossible!’ Lucette exclaimed an hour later as the two women sat opposite each other at the kitchen table in her tiny bed-sit apartment. ‘For starters you underestimate the stubbornness of the Hardy male. There’s no way Fletcher would have someone like you as a nanny on Wallaroo Downs.’

Ally’s chest tightened painfully at Lucette’s words.

‘I think Fletcher came to care for me. In fact I know he did.’

Something in her expression seemed to capture Lucette’s attention. She stared at Ally for several silent moments and then she reached over and took Ally’s hand.

‘I’m sure he does feel very strongly about you,’ she said gently. ‘Fletcher’s usually very wary about getting entangled with women, because of where he lives. He believes only women who grow up in the bush can take the harsh life of the outback. So if he allowed you to understand he cared...’ Lucette paused and smiled ruefully. ‘Then I’d say chances are he was totally smitten.’

‘I’m prepared to take a gamble on it.’

‘But your career!’ Lucette cried. ‘How could you possibly turn your back on everything you’ve achieved?’

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Ally. ‘A month ago I would have said it was totally impossible, but...’ She paused, taking in a deep shuddering breath. ‘Have you ever been in love, Lucette?’

‘Of course,’ the girl laughed, ‘hundreds of times.’

‘No. I’m talking the real thing. I can’t go on without him. I can’t work. I can’t eat or sleep.’ She paused and shook her head at Lucette’s wide-eyed response. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying all this. I used to be the first person to condemn girls who went all drippy over males. I mean, I used to think that all it took to resist falling into that kind of trap was a modicum of intelligence. But honestly, Lucette, I’ve no choice. I’ve got to go to him.’

Lucette sighed and refilled Ally’s coffee cup. ‘Ally, I really feel for you, believe me. But I don’t think Fletcher would have a bar of it. And it wouldn’t be because he doesn’t care for you. It’s simply that he couldn’t imagine how you could possibly be happy out there. He’d worry about taking you away from everything you’ve achieved.’ Lucette eyed her crestfallen friend with concern. ‘This is all my fault!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, if I hadn’t been so jolly eager to show off my set designs when he was in Melbourne for that conference, he would never have come to the show and fallen for the lovely Alexandra Fraser.’

Ally closed her stinging, tear-filled eyes as she remembered that moment when a tall, dark grazier marched into the models’ dressing room! She stared into her coffee cup. ‘I think I’ve got to do it, Lucette. I’m prepared for everyone telling me I’m mad. I’m prepared for Fletcher to be a little angry at first, but I think he’ll get over it. It’s just that I’ve found someone I love more than my career and I think I can convince him of that, too. I’ve fallen in love and I can’t just sit here and do absolutely zilch about it!’

‘Well, apart from anything else we’ve covered, there might still be one major hitch,’ said Lucette tentatively.

‘Which is?’ asked Ally, lifting her chin in a brave effort at defiance.

‘What experience have you had as a nanny?’

‘Aha! I can answer that,’ cried Ally triumphantly. ‘All the time I was at college, I worked as a nanny for the Johnstons. You know Dr. James Johnston and his wife Helen—the paediatricians? Nights, weekends, holidays. I looked after their four children on and off for three and a half years.’

Lucette raised her fair eyebrows and looked back at Ally with eyes the same sky blue as Fletcher’s. She took a long, deep swig of her coffee. ‘Then perhaps we’d better take a closer look at this,’ she said with a solemnity which was totally spoiled when her face broke into a cheeky grin, again alarmingly like her cousin’s. ‘But we’re going to have to plan it all very carefully.’