Woman at Willagong Creek Read online

  ‘Willagong is a fine property,’ he added slowly, almost as if he wanted her to understand. ‘It got swallowed up by some company twenty years ago, and no one’s lived here since. They sold it off as a single lot last year when the company broke up the property again. It’s good land, but it hasn’t been looked after. It would have been a lot easier to have stayed on the family property, but there’s nothing like knowing it’s your own land. My father taught me how to run a property, but he inherited his from his father. I’ve got a chance here to start from scratch, to make my own mistakes. I’m bringing the land back to life - slowly.’ He stopped abruptly, as if realising how much he had revealed about himself. ‘I’ve got a lot to do before I worry about a bit of dusting,’ he finished, with a conscious effort to lighten the mood.

  ‘A bit of dusting!’ Olivia teased, following his lead. ‘You’ve got half the Simpson Desert in there!’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s not that bad.’ He glanced down at the can in his hand. ‘Want a beer?’

  ‘Actually, I’d love a -’ There wasn’t going to be anything else, was there? ‘Beer would be fine,’ she said resignedly.

  She lowered herself into one of the sagging wicker chairs. Something in her had stirred in response to Guy’s evident feeling for his property. She understood the need to make it on your own, to throw yourself body and soul into making your job a success. Perhaps Guy was not so different.

  The memory of his smile was still uncomfortably vivid. Who else apart from David was privileged to be smiled at like that? He had family, presumably he had friends, girlfriends. Did he smile at them? Olivia’s eyes narrowed at the thought of Guy’s girlfriends. What kind of girl did he like? Whatever, it obviously wasn’t her kind! She had never met a man who was so unresponsive to her looks.

  ‘Here.’ Guy reappeared and handed her a can. It was so cold that she was glad of the polystyrene holder to protect her hands.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, deciding against asking for a glass. Pulling the tab awkwardly, she took a sip. It was deliciously cold and wet in her dry throat. She hadn’t realised quite how thirsty she was.

  ‘How did you get on with David?’ Guy asked, settling himself in the chair beside her. It creaked alarmingly.

  ‘Quite well, I think.’ Olivia looked down at the can she held. ‘He’s a nice boy.’

  ‘Yes, he is. Diane and Pete brought him up well.’

  Another silence fell. It was very quiet and still as the fiery glow of sunset deepened and darkened. Somewhere in the background, a generator throbbed and, unknown and unseen, insects whirred shrilly beneath the gums.

  Guy sat forward in his chair, arms resting on his knees as he turned the beer can thoughtfully between his hands. Olivia felt herself slowly relax. Less than a week ago, she thought, she’d have been fighting her way through the London traffic, pushing on to the Tube, jostling with the other commuters, in a rush to get home and then out to the bright lights again. It all seemed so unreal. Real was now: the red sky and the silver gleam of the gums through the dusk and the man sitting so still and thoughtful beside her.

  Suddenly the trees erupted in a blur of white wings as a flock of cockatoos took off together in response to some unheard signal. Startled out of her reverie, Olivia glanced sideways at Guy, to find him watching her with an unreadable expression in his deep eyes.

  ‘It’s not such a bad place, is it?’ he said quietly.

  Olivia dragged her eyes away and took a hasty sip of her beer. ‘Most places look nice at sunset,’ she said, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt. ‘I’m still far from convinced that this is the right place for David to be. The house is awful; all he seems to do is roam around outside. His main entertainment seems to be shooting kangaroos with somebody called Ben.’

  ‘I’m afraid shooting roos is a fact of life out here. They eat the grass that we need for our stock.’

  ‘But they’re such lovely creatures! It’s terrible to think of a boy being taught to destroy them!’

  ‘You need to be more than pretty to survive in the outback, Olivia.’ Guy’s eyes rested on her significantly and she tilted her chin at him. ‘David isn’t learning to enjoy killing. He’s being taught how to do what’s necessary, as painlessly as possible. In any case,’ he went on, ‘they don’t shoot that many. Mostly it’s just an excuse for them to wander off. Ben’s good with David. He tells him the things he wants to know, and he learns a lot more that way than he would sitting in front of a television, which is no doubt what he’d be doing in the evenings in London.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Olivia stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. What would she do with David in the evenings? ‘Anyway, television can be very educational.’

  At that moment David came running through the rapidly deepening gloom, arms and legs sticking out in different directions. ‘Corky says supper’s in fifteen minutes.’ He puffed up the steps. ‘Can I have some beer tonight, Guy?’

  ‘No,’ said Olivia firmly, before Guy had a chance to reply.

  David stuck out his lower lip and looked pleadingly at Guy, obviously unwilling to accept Olivia’s authority.

  ‘You heard what the lady said,’ Guy said surprisingly, softening his siding with the opposition with another heart-shaking smile. He jerked his head towards the kitchen, whose sole function was to house the fridge full of cold drinks. ‘Go and find yourself a lemonade.’

  ‘A sip every now and then doesn’t do him any harm,’ he said to Olivia as David scuffed his way along the veranda.

  ‘He’s far too young to be even thinking about beer,’ Olivia said crossly, more to disguise her alarming reaction to his smile than from any real conviction. She had a peculiar sensation inside, as if something was squeezing tightly. To make things worse, the smile was still lurking about his mouth. Not the smile he had given David, but the tantalising, elusive remains, as if he found her secretly amusing.

  As he turned his head away, she let her breath out slowly. What was the matter with her? She didn’t normally go all weak at the knees just because a man smiled.

  Jet lag, she told herself firmly.

  Guy raised his can again. Olivia watched his hands - they were neat, long, almost slender, with quick, sure fingers.

  She jerked her eyes away. She wished she could think of something to say, but her mind wouldn’t function beyond an awareness of hands and mouth. She drank her beer desperately. Why couldn’t Guy say something? He seemed quite unbothered by the silence.

  Fortunately David came skidding back along the veranda then and she was able to concentrate on him, resolutely ignoring Guy, drinking in unperturbed silence beside her.

  They walked over to the cookhouse through the darkness which had dropped with disconcerting speed. The ringers all stood up as Olivia came in, and looked down at their feet.

  Olivia, at ease in the most intimidating of cocktail parties, felt ridiculously awkward. ‘Hello,’ she said brightly, then winced at the sound of her own voice. Did she always sound that English?’

  They mumbled, ‘Evening,’ and shook the hand she held out hesitantly to each in turn as David performed the introductions. Corky, a dour, wiry little man, was the eldest. Ben - the kangaroo killer, Olivia remembered acidly - was rather good-looking, and probably only a couple of years younger than Guy. Darren and Joe, lanky boys of about twenty, eyed each other uneasily, managing successfully to make Olivia feel like some gaudy, alien creature. How long was it since they’d seen a woman? She wondered waspishly, unaware of the effect of her vivid beauty and the indefinable air of glamour that clung to her in those plain surroundings.

  The cookhouse was rectangular, with painted wooden walls a faded, yellowish shade of white in the light of a single, naked light bulb. At the far end of the room stood a vast, old-fashioned stove, and an array of wooden cupboards. There was a table in the middle of the cooking area, piled high with huge blackened pots, a deep double sink and three heavy fridges lined up against the walls like sentinels. Olivia thought of
her hygienic, streamlined kitchen in London and sighed.

  There was some awkward shuffling and scraping of chairs as they took their places at the long wooden table. Corky, who appeared to be the cook, deposited a plate piled high with boiled potatoes, overcooked cabbage and dry grey meat in front of her.

  ‘This looks delicious - er - Corky,’ she tried valiantly. Was that really his name? She averted her eyes from his grimy hands. ‘What else do you cook apart from roast … um …’ what was it? beef? mutton? ‘... apart from roast?’

  ‘I don’t cook nothing else,’ Corky answered, taciturn. ‘We always have roast.’

  ‘What, every night?’

  He merely grunted. Appalled, Olivia looked down at the gravy congealing on her plate and suppressed a shudder. ‘What about lunch?’

  ‘Cold meat,’ volunteered Darren and immediately flushed to the roots of his carroty hair.

  ‘And steak for breakfast,’ Joe added.

  ‘So, how many of you are vegetarian?’ Olivia’s teasing glance encountered blank looks. Only Guy’s level eyes met hers with understanding and that unsettling trace of amusement.

  She relapsed into silence as he changed the conversation to the work to be done the next day. Their incomprehensible stockmen’s jargon meant nothing to her, and she was able to study Guy covertly while they talked. She was struck again by the tough, brown look these men shared, but where Corky’s face was seamed and Joe’s round, Ben’s hair curly and Darren’s unruly, there was nothing to soften the austere lines of Guy’s features. Firm nose, firm chin, firm mouth. He had a sparse, uncluttered look about him, she thought, her eyes drifting down the column of his throat to powerful shoulders. His blue cotton shirt was open at the neck and there was just a glimpse of strong brown chest.

  Aware that her imagination was beginning to wander dangerously, Olivia bent her head to her plate once more. She ploughed her way through the meal and wondered instead about how soon she would be able to break the news to David that they were leaving. There was no way she was going to stay in this place a minute longer than she had to!

  Olivia spent the next morning wandering rather aimlessly around the homestead. Guy and the ringers had ridden off long before she was awake, David informed her, when he met her picking her way in high heels down the rough track to the stockyards.

  ‘Oh.’ She hesitated. Guy might at least have waited around until she was up! She had had to find her own breakfast in that disgusting kitchen, and it looked as if she was going to have to amuse herself somehow. ‘Where are you off to?’ she asked David.

  ‘I’m going for a ride. I’ve got my own horse,’ he said proudly. ‘Do you want to see him?’

  ‘All right.’ Suspecting that this was something of an honour, Olivia turned and followed him to the paddock. She was rather wary of horses. They had a nasty habit of rolling their eyes at you, and her one attempt to learn how to ride had left her determined never to go near a horse again. She stayed firmly behind the wooden rails as David called to a solid-looking bay pony and slipped on its bridle.

  Olivia was impressed, but kept at a safe distance when David led the pony over proudly. ‘What’s his name?’ she asked.

  ‘Topper. Guy gave him to me for my very own.’ David’s face was alight as he stroked the animal’s glossy neck.

  It looked an awfully big horse to Olivia. ‘Are you allowed to go riding by yourself?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘Course I am!’ He threw her a scornful glance. ‘Guy says I’m a good rider. When I’m older he says I can go on musters and ride in the rodeo.’ No prizes for guessing who David’s hero was!

  She watched him saddle the pony with surprising ease. ‘Are you Guy’s new girlfriend?’ he asked unexpectedly as he tightened the girth.

  New girlfriend? Olivia’s long eyes glittered suddenly green. Who was the old girlfriend? ‘Not exactly,’ she said carefully. ‘Why do you ask?’

  David shrugged. ‘Ben asked me,’ he said, patently not much interested.

  ‘Oh.’ She hesitated. She shouldn’t really pump a child for information, but there wasn’t anyone else to ask. ‘Does Guy already have a girlfriend, then?’ she asked casually.

  ‘I expect so.’ David was preoccupied with checking the saddle and evidently didn’t feel the matter was worthy of much consideration.

  Olivia regarded him with frustration. ‘Does he ever bring her here?’ she persevered.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘His girlfriend.’ Her patience was beginning to fray.

  David scratched his head. ‘I don’t know.’

  Hardly a mine of information! ‘Oh, well, it doesn’t matter,’ said Olivia, resolving to talk to Ben instead. ‘Have a nice ride.’

  She walked slowly back to the house. The girlfriend obviously wasn’t a permanent enough feature to register with David … She caught herself up guiltily. Why was she so interested in Guy’s girlfriend anyway? Then she reassured herself hastily. Any prospect of Guy’s marrying would affect David, though, wouldn’t it?

  If she left David here.

  Olivia’s face was thoughtful as she climbed the steps and wandered from silent room to silent room. She couldn’t leave him somewhere like this … and yet he seemed so much happier than she had expected. Did she have the right to take him away from all that was familiar?

  Arguments for and against leaving David with Guy circled uselessly, until, in a fit of restlessness, she seized the broom from the kitchen and began to brush the years of dust from the living area just inside the front door. She might as well do something useful while she was doing her thinking!

  The mindless task was curiously soothing. Before she came out to Willagong Creek, her mind had been a ferment of plans: what to do about David’s schooling, when to book a flight back to London, keeping in touch with the contacts she mustn’t lose if she was going to make a success of a freelance touring company … She hadn’t thought about any of it since she arrived, she realised with an obscure lack of surprise.

  Really, it wasn’t such a bad room, now she came to look at it. An air of quiet and peace pervaded the house, and with the worst of the dust brushed away, she could almost imagine how it might have been before it had been abandoned. Her eyes fell on an old clock on the mantelpiece and she wound it up, with the fanciful notion that she might wind the house into life again as easily.

  Closing her eyes, she stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly as the clock ticked into the silence. She could see it all quite clearly. The walls would be cleaned and repainted, the wooden floors polished and gleaming. Outside, the neglected garden might be cajoled back into life. Her imagination drifted. Guy would be coming up the veranda steps, smiling. Funny, she could visualise him with startling clarity, as if every line on his face was familiar to her and -

  ‘Olivia?’

  Startled, Olivia’s eyes, soft and blue with dreaming, flew open. Guy was propped in the doorway, almost blocking out the rectangle of harsh sunlight, one long leg casually crossed in front of the other, hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans.

  He wore his stockman’s hat as if it were part of him, she thought inconsequentially, unsettled by the way her heart had jolted at the sight of him.

  ‘Funny place to fall asleep,’ he observed as he took off his hat and advanced into the room, brushing the dust off the brim.

  ‘I wasn’t asleep. I was … thinking.’

  ‘What about?’

  You. ‘Oh … nothing.’ Olivia was suddenly awkward and tongue-tied, acutely aware of his lean brown strength. She felt embarrassed, as if his perceptive eyes had seen exactly what she had been dreaming about.

  Guy raised an eyebrow at her evasive answer, but didn’t comment. ‘I saw David disappearing off. I thought you’d want him to stay with you.’

  ‘I don’t want to tie him down,’ she said defensively.

  ‘Don’t you? That’s what you’ll do if you take him to a town.’

  She bit her lip, turned away from him. Better not to ri
se to the bait. ‘He certainly seems very keen on his horse,’ she said in a non-committal voice.

  ‘He’s a cracking little rider,’ Guy agreed. She could feel his eyes on her. ‘You’re good with him.’

  It was so unexpected that she swung back in astonishment. ‘Me?’

  ‘I noticed last night. You talked to him as if he was a person, not a baby. You didn’t try to smother him with affection either. David wouldn’t like that.’

  Olivia felt absurdly pleased by the laconic praise. She had always thought of herself as being hopeless with children.

  Guy laid his hat on the heavy sideboard. ‘Have you thought any more about what you’re going to do about David?’

  ‘I haven’t been thinking about anything else,’ Olivia said wryly, and not quite truthfully. She had wasted an awful lot of time thinking about Guy himself.

  ‘Come to any conclusions?’

  ‘Not yet.’ She picked up the broom and began sweeping again. She wasn’t about to be bamboozled into making any hurried decisions. ‘Only that you could do with a new cook!’

  A gleam of amusement sprang to Guy’s eyes. ‘Corky’s better on a horse than in the kitchen - but he cooks better than the other boys, believe me. When I get around to finding a housekeeper, she can take over. Corky’s too valuable outside to have him tied to the kitchen.’

  His eyes rested on Olivia, typically elegant in a blue and white sprigged dress, heels and chunky earrings. It looked all wrong with the broom. A shaft of sunlight through the doorway lit the gold in her hair and illuminated a thousand dancing motes of dust around her. ‘You shouldn’t be cleaning dressed like that,’ he said, almost roughly.

  Olivia looked down at herself, as if noticing her dress for the first time. It was looking rather grubby. She was usually the first person to recoil at the thought of getting dirty, but now she merely shrugged. ‘Oh, well … the room looks better, though, doesn’t it?’