Читать книгу Outback Bridegroom - Margaret Way - Страница 7

CHRISTINE’S family were at dinner after what had been, all in all, an extraordinarily upsetting day. It was strange to see her mother take pride of place in her grandmother’s huge carver chair at the head of the long antique table. Both of them small women, somehow her grandmother had dominated the large space, whereas her mother looked as if her feet dangled clear off the ground.

For once her father occupied the elaborately carved mahogany carver at the other end, having been asked by Kyall to do so. “Take your rightful place, Dad,” Kyall urged as they all went to sit down in the places Ruth McQueen had allotted them in her lifetime. “You’re head of the family. Everything about the way Gran treated you was terrible.”

His mother, ever one to hide her head in the sand, gasped aloud. “Kyall, how can you possibly say that?”

“Because it’s true, Mum,” he responded bluntly. “I’m sorry if that word isn’t in your dictionary.”

“Really, Kyall, it doesn’t matter,” Max intervened.

“It does matter, Dad.” At the end of this long strange day, Kyall’s normally controlled temper was at flashpoint. “I think we can stop all this stupid business of Kyall McQueen as well. I’m your son, Dad. I love you. I’m a Reardon.”

“Bravo!” Christine dared to put her hands together. “Then you can acknowledge I’m your sister as well.”

“Don’t be silly, Chris.”

“Don’t take it personally.” She smiled at him. “You had nothing to do with it. It was Gran and Mum.”

Enid looked angrily towards her daughter. “Excuse me, Christine, but your father and I agreed Kyall would be christened Kyall Reardon-McQueen. Didn’t we, dear?” Enid appealed to her husband as a good solid mate should.

“We did.” Max looked back down the table at her. “We didn’t plan on the Reardon being dropped, though, did we?” he pointed out gently.

“It was the town.” Enid picked up her wine glass. “The double-barrelled name was too much of a mouthful.”

“And God forbid the town should have dropped the McQueen.” Christine rolled her eyes at her brother. “After all, the McQueens own it.”

“Why is it that you always start something, Christine?” Enid asked, her cheeks flushed a dull red. “You’re only just home and you’re—”

“Leave her alone, Enid,” Max said, his handsome face composed into firm lines.

Enid’s hand, mid-way to her wine glass again, froze. “Sometimes, Max, you act like I’m not Christine’s mother,” she complained. “I’ve spent the last twenty-eight years of my life being anxious about her.”

“I wonder why, Mum?” Kyall asked bleakly. “Chris has made a big success of herself, yet you and Gran spent your time trying to convince her she was an oddity, all long arms and legs. Don’t you know how cruel the two of you were to her?”

“Please, Kyall,” implored Christine, who had inherited much of her father’s peacemaker manner. “Let it drop. We’re all upset.”

“I certainly am,” Enid huffed, secure in the mistaken belief she had taken her responsibilities as a mother seriously. “My mother has only just been buried. Did any of you notice?”

“I don’t know that burying Gran is enough for me,” Kyall said with black humour. “It’s not as though she can stop off at the pearly gates. But I’m sure she’ll work out a deal at the dark end of town.”

“Kyall!” Enid’s face was shocked. “That’s dreadful!”

“Maybe, but I don’t like her chances of going to heaven.”

“If there is such a place,” Enid responded tartly. “It seems to me we make our heaven and hell here.”

Kyall and Max went off to the library. Suzanne made a quick escape to her room. And Enid signalled by an imperious gesture of her right forefinger that she wished to speak to her only daughter.

“What do you make of Suzanne?” she asked in a worried tone of voice when they were seated in Enid’s spacious study, door shut.

“Make of her? Gosh, Mum, why throw that at me? Suzanne’s family. I mean, is that any way to put it?”

“You’ve got a better way?” Enid asked, looking as if she very much wanted to hear it.

“Keep that tone up, Mum, and I’m ready to leave,” Christine promised wryly, thinking that whenever she came into contact with her mother there was confrontation.

“Good grief, Christine, I don’t want any arguments.” Enid looked genuinely victimized. “I never know how to talk to you; you’re so different.”

“That’s why I stay away.” Christine stared around the room, cluttered with trophies and photographs of her brother. She and Kyall were so alike, but being a female was her stumbling block. It was splendid to be a male of six foot plus. Problematic in a female. For years she’d been made so self-conscious it had been all she could do to cross a room without stumbling over the furniture.

“I understood you stayed away because of your grandmother.” Enid pressed back in her comfortable armchair. “God knows, she gave us all hell—but things are different now. I want to do the best I possibly can for you, and for Suzanne. She is, after all, Stewie’s child. I loved my brother. We were such lonely, largely ignored children.”

Christine, never the daughter her mother had wanted, laughed. “Join the group. Let’s face it, Mum, beside Kyall I wasn’t worth paying any attention to. Kyall was everything. It should have made him unbearable, but it didn’t turn out that way. He’s a good man. He deserves his Sarah. As for me, I was judged exclusively on my looks. I wasn’t the lovely little doll you wanted.”

“You had no interest in clothes.” Her mother made the charge as though it were important. “Except boys’ shirts and jodhpurs. I was worried you might have ‘problems’. Why, after all this time, have you decided to tackle me about it?”

“Maybe I’m trying to work off my own hurt and angry feelings, Mum. You gave me a terrible image of myself. It took me years before I could believe what everyone else was telling me. I’m among the best in the business.”

“My dear Christine, you look fine. Is that what you want to hear? Because it’s perfectly true. At thirteen, fourteen and the rest that was far from the case. You slumped badly. I was very worried about your height and your posture. I didn’t know when you were going to stop growing. That’s the first thing people notice when they meet you for the first time. Your height. And you will wear ludicrously high heels.”

“I’ve come to terms with my height, Mum. Why can’t you? It’s so trivial, anyway. I hope there’s a whole lot more to me than my looks. They don’t last forever.”

“True.” Enid smoothed her thick, glossy dark hair, which she persisted in wearing too short. “I try to do the best I can. I was never a beauty, like Mother, but I do look good when I dress up. At any rate I won your father’s heart.”

“Oh, Mum…” Christine, who loved her father dearly and was aware of his unhappiness, almost moaned. “Isn’t it time for you to make it up to Dad? He’s never had an easy time, with Gran running everyone’s life. Why don’t you two go on a world trip? Have a second honeymoon? You’ve heard of a honeymoon, haven’t you?”

“Is there something you’re trying to tell me, Christine?” Enid demanded indignantly. A few odd remarks had come to her ears of late, but she hadn’t paid much attention. Her marriage vows were set in stone as far as Enid was concerned.

Christine tried a gentle warning. “There’s just so much you can do to make things better. A lot depends on how you act from now on.”

“Are you trying to tell me your father isn’t happy?” Enid enunciated, very clearly. “That he might leave me? That isn’t his style,” she scoffed.

“You have to give him that.” Christine sighed. “But there’s no way you can guarantee the future. All I’m saying is, this is yours and Dad’s chance at a new life. How is Kyall’s marriage going to affect you? Sarah will be mistress of Wunnamurra. You were never very kind to Sarah either. She had to live with that for years. All the snobbery!”

“Sarah has forgiven me.” Enid stirred restlessly, wanting to bury her part in Sarah’s traumas. “And Kyall will still need us to help run the station. Your father and I are very involved in every aspect of the operation.”

“Kyall could easily employ staff if you wanted to do something else,” Christine suggested.

“Naturally we want to stay here. This is my home, Christine.” Enid adopted a fervent tone. “I was born here. I don’t think I could bear to leave it.”

“How does Dad feel? How does Kyall feel? And Sarah’s viewpoint is very important.”

“We haven’t discussed it.” Enid rose as if to signify that this oppressive, unwieldy conversation was coming to an end. “And you, Christine? I’m only your mother, but may I ask your plans?”

Christine lifted her dark head. “Well, I can’t say this is my home, Mum, now, can I? Any more than I can see it as poor little Suzy’s home. You’re not about to let go, are you?”

So unexpectedly challenged, Enid looked down at her daughter with a mixture of astonishment and disapproval. “Christine, you’re meddling in matters that don’t concern you. You know as well as I do Sarah is head of the hospital. That will take up all her time.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you? Things change.”

“I don’t intend to discuss it with you. You’ve never involved yourself with the running of Wunnamurra. You left the first moment you could, and I very much doubt if, for all your travels and the glamorous people you’ve mixed with, you’ve met anyone who could measure up to Mitchell Claydon. You were very foolish there, Christine. Very headstrong. You actually had Mitchell in the palm of your hand—the entire Claydon family was on side. Even mother approved the match—such a relief—but you flung it all away. For what?”

“The word’s freedom, Mum,” Christine said quietly. “Until you begin to take a long, hard look at yourself you’ll never understand that. Or me.”

“And I’ve got something to tell you, dear,” Enid retorted acerbically, well used to having the last word. “There’s a very good chance Mitchell will never forgive you.”

Christine laughed wryly. “Whenever I need comfort, Mum, I come to you. Actually, Julanne has asked me over for a visit.”

“When was this?” Enid’s dark eyes fired with interest.

“Today.”

“Then you’ll have to go,” Enid said, feeling a wave of maternal hope. Her daughter simply had no idea how she worried about her future. “Mitchell may not have lost all feeling for you after all. Though he’s got plenty of girls after him. That silly little Amanda Logan, for one. Throwing herself at him the last time I saw them together. Can’t say I blame her. Mitchell is quite a catch. My advice to you is to try and get yourself together. Decide what you want out of life. This may be your very last chance.”

Though Christine hated to agree with her mother, it seemed all at once that it was.

Kyall stopped her in the entrance hall, where masses of long-stemmed scarlet roses sat on the circular rosewood library table. Their perfume was a real force.

“Fancy an early-morning ride?” Kyall’s smile was full of sweetness and affection.

“What time do I need to get up?” she joked.

“Six okay for you, or are you played out?”

“It’s not as though I cried buckets at the funeral.” She made a sad face.

“No.” His own expression grew bleak.

“And what’s the big secret you’ve all been keeping from me?” She looked steadily into his eyes. “I know there is one. There’s more to be told than the miracle of finding your beautiful daughter, Kyall.”

“Of course there is, but I won’t lay it on you now.”

“My God, that bad? Gran probably had a hand in it.”

Kyall shook his head quickly, as if he couldn’t bear to discuss it then. “I can’t wait for you to meet Fiona.”

She touched her brother’s cheek very gently. “I’m counting the days until I do. My niece. I couldn’t be more thrilled for you and Sarah, Kyall. For our family.”

“You’ll love her, Chris,” Kyall promised. “And she’ll love you. She’s the very image of Sarah, just as we told you.”

“And when am I to hear the whole story?”

“Tomorrow,” Kyall promised. “We’ll ride out around six. Have breakfast together when we come back.” He took his sister’s face in his hands, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “It’s wonderful to have you back, Chris. I’ve hated the way you moved out of our lives. I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed saying your name.”

“I’ve missed you too, Kyall.” Her answering smile was misty.

“We’ve both had a hard time.” He dropped his hands slowly. “It only takes one person in a family to inflict emotional wounds. That one person in ours was Gran. Her power and influence had a devastating effect on us all. Anyway…” He sighed heavily. “Now she’s gone we can work all our problems through. What I’d really like to know is how did you go with Mitch? I couldn’t help noticing that you were very engrossed in each other.”

Christine gave a short unhappy laugh. “Mitch is never going to forgive me.”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “I can understand more than most how he feels. You were always together, then you went away. Though I realize you had to make that decision.”

“Tell that to Mitch,” she said dismally.

“Do you think I haven’t? Mitch is my best friend. We’ve talked a lot about it, but when you’re in so much emotional pain it’s difficult to achieve objectivity. Everything seemed plain sailing for poor old Mitch. The two of you were going to get married eventually. You were born for each other. Born to live your lives together. You were so much in love.”

“As close as you and Sarah.”

“Both of you left and both of us kind of died,” Kyall responded with deep, remembered feeling.

“You had relationships.”

“Neither of us would deny it. We’re human. But Sarah is and always will be the love of my life.”

“I haven’t found anyone to replace Mitch either,” she confessed.

“You must have had lots of guys wanting a relationship?” Kyall considered, looking at his beautiful sister.

“I can’t commit.” She made a slight frustrated sound. “Deep down I can’t forget Mitch any more than you could forget Sarah. We’re alike in that way, the two of us. Single-minded.”

“It can make things very hard at times.” Kyall pondered. He stared down at his sister, deciding with pride she was stunning. The eyes, the mouth, the skin, the beautiful bone structure revealed by the way she had scraped her long dark mane back into a thick braid, just like she’d used to wear her hair when she was younger. But beyond all that it was a brave face. The face of a young woman who had made her own way in life. “I pray it’ll all end well, Chris. I want you to be happy. Mitch too. Both of you are very important to me. It would be wonderful if you could settle back into this life. But you have to contend with the fact Mitch is part of the land like me.”

“Do you think I haven’t taken that into account?” she answered gravely. “The land is your life. Fully and wholly. Perhaps for Mitch even more than for you. You’ve taken on so many business interests. Suppose I tell you I’ve missed my Outback home terribly. I’m like the rest of the ex-pats. I have to have Vegemite on my toast and burn a few gum leaves now and again just to recapture the scent of the bush. But you’re a man, Kyall. That was and remains the big issue. You’ve inherited Wunnamurra. I was kept out of it.”

“Would you want to run it?” he asked, prepared to extend to her all the sharing she needed.

“No.” She laughed and shook her head. “Too much back-breaking work. That’s your job, but I reckon I could help. I’ve been very good with handling my money. Among my peers I’m considered pretty smart.”

“You won’t get an argument from me.” He flashed a smile nearly identical to her own. “Listen, I’d love you to stay, Chris. You could take your rightful place. I have more irons in the fire than even you know. We’ve diversified a great deal more over the past six or seven years. We’ve moved into speciality foods and wine. We bought out Beauview Station in the Clare Valley, poured a lot of money into it, secured the services of a great wine maker. You’ll have to see it. Now you’re home I’d like to fill you in about the family holdings. I could find a nice little place for you on a board or two. I’m certain you’ve got a head for it. You should really know all about the family assets. You’re my sister.”

“And I’ve remained in the dark too long. I’d love to learn all about McQueen Enterprises. I guess that’s one reason you’re stuck with the name.” Christine considered that fact seriously. “To the Outback and the business world you are McQueen.”

Kyall grimaced. “It’s just that I feel guilty about Dad and his feelings.”

“You know Dad,” she said. “He’s accepted it. He knows the difficulties. He knows you love him. And we’re living proof of him. We have his smile, his height, and his beautiful blue eyes. It’s Mum who doesn’t fully appreciate his worth.”

“Then she might have a problem.” Kyall put his arm around his sister’s shoulders as they began to walk up the staircase.

Christine shot him a worried look.

“Dad’s seeing someone else, Chris.”

“Oh, God!” Why wasn’t she surprised? “Mum would die if he left her.”

“Ah, well! Mum’s been acting like they’re sister and brother instead of husband and wife. They have separate suites. She doesn’t push him away, and I’m fairly sure she loves him in her own way, but she doesn’t go out of her way to please him, if you know what I mean. There are plenty of women in the town who would love to have a little flutter with Dad. But he’s very careful about things like that. I think, given the situation, he’s been extraordinarily faithful, but he hasn’t had much of a life. With someone refined and discreet it’s another matter.”

“Oh, God!” Christine repeated on a soft wail. Although situations like this were commonplace, she hadn’t expected it to strike home. If her mother found out about another woman could she deal with it?

Christine didn’t think so.

Several days later she stood on Wunnamurra’s broad verandah, shielding her eyes from the brilliant light of the sun. She was waiting for Mitch to arrive, to fly her to Marjimba, having detailed one of the station hands to drive him from the airstrip to the homestead. She’d timed her visit to Marjimba to coincide with Kyall’s flight to Sydney.

His was a combined exercise—returning Suzanne to her boarding school and meeting with some new financial people—merchant bankers—McQueen Enterprises was considering dealing with.

There’d been some heart-wrenching moments an hour earlier when she’d seen Suzanne off. Suzanne had trudged down the front steps, her vision wavering with tears. The sight had upset Christine so much she’d found she had to hold back on her own.

“I hate school.” Suzanne had allowed the words to burst from her lips immediately they were underway in the Jeep.

“Sweetheart, just about everyone hates school.” Christine, at the driving wheel, gave her a sympathetic glance, “But you haven’t got much longer to go. Then it’ll be all over.”

“It’s been hell trying to hide how I feel. Everyone feels sorry for you for a while, then they forget. They have no idea what it’s like to lose your parents. You really do love me, don’t you, Chris?” Suzanne sent her cousin such an appealing look it would have melted stone.

“Hey, of course I love you.” Christine reached out her left hand to squeeze her cousin’s delicate shoulder. “You’re my little cousin. I’m only sorry I haven’t been around for you, so we could get to know each other much better and have some fun. But there’s the rest of our lives. Soon you’ll be free to launch yourself on the next exciting stage of your life. And I’ll be there to help.”

Suzanne shook her head plaintively. “I wish! But you fly off overseas all the time.”

“I’m considering staying put.”

“Are you serious?” Suzanne sounded amazed and delighted.

“Would I lie to you?”

“Actually…no.” Suzanne smiled for the first time that morning. “But what about your modelling? Don’t you have to give notice or something?”

“No, sweetie. I don’t want you to talk about this—it’s a secret for the time being—but I’ve been giving serious consideration to getting out of the business.”

“When you’re so hot?”

Christine laughed. “I’ve had quite a few years on the catwalks and magazine covers. It’s not as glamorous as you think.”

“But don’t you make tons of money?”

Christine turned her head in amusement. “Aren’t you the one who said as a family we’ve all got too much? I don’t usually dish out clichés, but money can’t buy love and happiness, kiddo. And that’s what I want for you.”

“I could be happy if you stayed,” Suzanne confided. “But what would you do?” she asked with the greatest interest. “You’ve been so famous. All my girlfriends think you’re gorgeous.”

“I work at it.” Christine smiled. “Genes and a good dose of self-discipline. I’ve been thinking I might become a businesswoman.” She slowed the Jeep as they approached the airstrip. “I have a good head on my shoulders. Kyall wants to teach me the business.”

“Oh, that would be great!” Suzanne’s soft grey eyes were huge. “You’d stay home in Australia?”

“Those are my thoughts, sweetie. I like the idea of being around for you too. And there’s Fiona. I just know you two girls are going to hit if off wonderfully.”

Minutes later Suzanne was waving happily from inside the King Air while Kyall took the opportunity to have a few parting words with his sister.

“Well, there’s a change. Suzy actually looks happy. What did you say?”

“I promised her I’m going to be around for her. She needs family badly. She’s still in terrible pain from losing her parents.”

“Of course she is, poor little mite. But how you’re going to be around for her is the burning question, given your career.”

“You’ve offered me options, brother.” She smiled into his eyes, relishing the fact he was taller. “At this point I might be ready to start another career.”

“Anything that keeps you home suits me. What’s more, you have a very good chance of landing our good friend Mitch.”

“My now-or-never chance,” she said wryly.

“Make the most of it,” Kyall urged.

“I will.” She held up her face for his kiss.

“You two were meant for each other.” Kyall’s eyes were serious. “Say hello for me.”

“Will do.”

Mitch arrived looking like the hero of some Western movie. The one who always got the girl. Irrevocably sunny-natured, with that golden shock of hair, changeable sea-coloured eyes, bold and sparkling against the smooth golden tan, and the irresistible flash of beautiful white teeth.

“Hi!” he called, slamming the door of the open Jeep and sauntering jauntily towards the homestead verandah. He’d promised himself he’d do his level best to be friendly, but he knew he’d have to work hard at it.

“Hi, yourself!” Christine had deliberately posed herself against twin white columns, trying for a touch of humour to break down the expected tensions. After all, they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Indeed, it seemed they would never get back onto their old footing. Such was the price of her defection.

“Chris, you break my heart!” he responded pleasantly, sweeping off his cream akubra and holding it on cue to his chest. “You’re so beautiful, so hot, so sexy! Pity I’m not a photographer.” That came out a bit too dryly.

“That’s okay. I did dress up a bit, but not in a huge way. Like the outfit?”

“Love it.” He ambled up onto the verandah as she broke her pose. “Prairie style, is it?” he asked with mock interest.

“Say, that’s knowledgeable.” She stared down at herself. She wore jeans with a very feminine cream cotton and lace blouse, and a fancy turquoise buckled belt around her narrow waist. “How did you know?”

He allowed himself a slight laugh, though the sight of her had sharpened his nerves. “Mum has a magazine with you in it looking like some glorious frontier woman, dressed in long suede skirts and high leather boots, with big wide belts and lots of lace and pretty puffed sleeves. Did they know you can ride like the wind?”

“Didn’t you notice the one of me on the galloping horse?”

“Hell, I must have missed it.” His eyes were sardonic. “I loved the one where you were sitting under a tree strumming a guitar. Nice combination—Victorian blouse, tight sexy jeans and leather boots. But I happen to know you can’t play the guitar.”

“All right, so you can.”

“Multi-talented, that’s me.” He leaned back against a column, still studying her. She was so beautiful. But there was a wall between them he couldn’t get around or over. Nevertheless, he was determined to keep to his promise to be sociable. “Remember that stage I went through of trying to yodel?” he asked.

“I remember the falsetto.” She turned a smiling face to him, her expression soft and dreamy.

“So why did you keep telling me I could have made it big?”

“As a busker.” In fact she’d loved him crooning to her in his smooth melodious voice, her limbs curling up with pleasure. “Mum doesn’t want you to leave until you have morning tea.”

“I hate morning tea.” He mouthed the words.

“Never mind. There are some things a guy’s gotta do. Come inside. It’s all set up in the garden room. It’s abloom at the moment, with some of Mum’s spectacular plants.”

“This I’ve got to see.” He spoke smoothly. It was a good thing she couldn’t hear his pounding heart.

Enid, her fine dark eyes full of bright curiosity, was waiting for them in the double-storeyed light-filled room Ewan McQueen, Christine’s grandfather, had built onto the rear of the main house in the early days of his marriage to Ruth.

It was a striking room, distinguished by such an array of exotic plants one had the feeling of being enclosed in a sub-tropical garden. Palms soared, along with golden canes, banana trees, tree ferns, orchids, bromeliads, all kinds of lilium—white, cream, yellow, orange, shocking pink and purple—waxy, highly scented gardenias, colourful pelargoniums, and every variety of philodendron, some with enormous deeply lobed leaves. Everything was grown in pots, and the temperature of the room was controlled by air-conditioning.

As if that weren’t enough, Mitch thought wryly, a large Victorian wrought-iron central fountain had been installed, presenting the spectacle and sound of abundant water on the desert fringe. The sparkling emerald green surface was the perfect background for a flotilla of luxuriant creamy-white water lilies.

At home with the McQueens! They sure knew how to live. Whether some of them deserved it was another matter. His homestead at Marjimba, though big and pleasing, was no possible match for this. Wunnamurra homestead was regarded as one of the finest in the country, and was a showpiece; its rooms were filled with marvellous antiques, the walls aglow with paintings worth a fortune, Chinese porcelains and jade in cabinets, Oriental screens and rugs. You name it, some collector in the family had acquired it. It had been rumoured at one time that Ruth McQueen had an Egyptian mummy secreted away some place. Ruby Hall, Koomera Crossing’s resident sticky beak, had blabbed it. He believed that as much as he believed pigs could fly.

“Mitchell, dear!” Enid called to him in a cultured voice that always managed to sound patronising to his ears. “It’s so nice of your mother to invite Christine over.”

Poor, problematic Christine, he thought, with ongoing resentment towards Christine’s autocratic mother. His own home had been more of a shelter and a haven to Christine than this mansion had ever been.

Oblivious to his thoughts, Enid rose from behind a long glass-topped table, extending her hand like royalty.

“How are you, Enid?” He took it gallantly. His mother was big on manners.

She seemed to search his face for something. He wasn’t sure what. “Well, I’m doing my best.” She sucked in her cheeks. “I miss Mother terribly, of course, but I can’t let the rest of the family down. I want this to be a peaceful time for Christine whilst she’s here.”

“So how long is that to be?” He half turned, caught Christine’s eye, his expression as sardonic as hers.

“Just until Mum decides to kick me out.” Christine rocked on her boot heels, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

“Christine, the things you say!” Enid looked exasperated. “You know I hate it when you go away.”

Christine smiled broadly. “Gosh, Mum, I’ve never noticed.”

Enid waved a hand at her. “Darling girl, must we air our differences with Mitchell here?”

“He won’t stand up for me.” She shot Mitch a swift, challenging look.

“You can stand up for yourself,” he returned coolly.

“True.”

“I had such high hopes for you two,” Enid went on to reveal. “To my mind you’re perfect husband material, Mitchell.”

“Pity Chris didn’t think so,” he answered carelessly, as though it no longer mattered. “If she had, life would have taken a different turn—wouldn’t it, Chrissy?” He glanced at her with light mockery.

“I expect we’d have six or seven kids by now.”

“I guess so.” He didn’t smile, suddenly busy trying to steer out of the rapids.

“You were just too foolish, Christine.” Enid shook her head in censure.

“So why isn’t anyone desperate to marry you, Mitch?” Christine retaliated, meeting his extraordinary eyes.

“Chrissy, darling, you’re way behind the times,” he drawled. “Some very nice girls indeed are in the running.”

“Annie Oakley out there?”

“There was a time you worked hard at being that, Christine,” Enid reminded her. “The arguments we had, trying to get you to put on a dress. Let alone a bit of make-up. Now you’re plastered with it.”

Christine turned her head towards her mother in mild astonishment. “I wear very little make-up away from the camera, Mum. I’m not wearing much now.”

“In your job, I mean.” Enid clucked. “You could hardly call it a profession. I’ll be so pleased when you’re out of it. We all know the dangers. Now…come sit down, Mitchell, dear. I’m sure there’s something you’ll love here. All freshly baked in your honour. Christine, be a good girl and check if the tea’s ready.”

“Sure. I’ll nip out to the kitchen right now. You keep Mitch entertained.”

“There are just no words to describe my daughter!” Enid gave Mitch a half-pained, half-conspiratorial look, staring after the tall, incredibly elegant Christine as she glided out of the room. “How can we communicate properly when she’s always attempting to take a rise out of me?”

“I’m sure we love her all the same,” Mitch offered smoothly, staring at a beautiful, very showy orchid, its colours a combination of crimson, purple and pink. Wunnamurra had such an orchid right on its doorstep. Its name was Christine.

They had been airborne some twenty minutes when Mitch received the message that a vehicle was overturned on a bush road some forty plane-kilometres north-east of Wunnamurra station. Could he land and take a look at the scene? If there were critically injured people could he relay an immediate message to the Flying Doctor? If the occupants weren’t so bad could he fly them back to Koomera Crossing, where an ambulance and a crew from the Bush Hospital would be waiting?

“Never a dull moment!” Mitch remarked, shooting Christine a keen look. “I’ll drop altitude. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Christine nodded, anxious to do all she could.

They had no difficulty finding the site. On a straight stretch of road the vehicle, a four-wheel drive, had come to grief.

“Thank God the wind is in the right direction,” Mitch remarked, peering down at the rugged red landscape.

“You’re going to attempt to land?” Christine too stared down at the vast plains that shimmered away to the horizon.

Whirlwinds swayed and danced in the distance. The quivering mirage created an enticing chain of cool blue lagoons that many an explorer had trudged towards. Lakes that didn’t exist. Empty and remote, the Never Never wasn’t the best place to break down.

“I’ll circle. See what happens,” Mitch muttered. “If there’s no response from the ground I guess I’ll have to. The road should be just wide enough. At least we’ve got a good long straight stretch.”

“You don’t know the camber of the road,” she pointed out, her tone betraying her edginess.

“You’re not worried, are you?” He frowned, looking to her for a straight answer.

“No, Mitch. I’m as cool as a cucumber. Just like you. Of course I’m worried. There’s certain criteria for landing on a road, even a bush road with not a soul on it. There’s always a risk.”

“Chrissy, darling, spare a thought. I’m the pilot,” he said dryly. “Not you. I don’t estimate a high risk. Leave it to me. I’ve seen the Flying Doctor’s King Air—all five or six million dollars’ worth, and weighing a good five tons—land in the most amazing places. You’re talking skills. I’m not too bad myself.”

A modest understatement. Mitch was a very fine pilot; he had to be. She knew that.

Rule One when travelling in the Outback: wait with your vehicle.

As they circled the site to make any survivors of the accident aware, a woman suddenly lurched up from the scant shade of a stunted, lifeless-looking shrub, her whole body language showing her distress. She lifted both arms above her head to acknowledge them before pointing back to the vehicle, then cantered to one side to indicate the driver was unable to get out.