Heart of the Dreaming (42 page)

John found a street of grand old Victorian homes in Randwick which had been turned into flats and bedsitters. These were added to the agenda to be restored and sold as ‘Gentleman's Residences; close to the city and the racecourse' said John, trying out his advertising skills.

‘John, I can't do all these myself!'

‘Hire people, start training them. But you oversee what goes into every house, every room.'

Queenie dropped her head into her hands, groaning aloud. ‘It all seems too much. It's getting out of control.'

‘You were the one who wanted to make money,' teased Sarah.

Queenie lifted her head. ‘You're right. I'm not quite there but it's looking good.'

‘Having the money is one thing. How are you going to get Colin to sell to you when you have enough?' asked Sarah.

‘I don't know. Except he mustn't know I want to buy Tingulla or he definitely won't let it go. I might have to be a bit devious and get John to work something out for me.'

‘Queenie, how you've changed,' laughed Sarah. ‘Normally you would have charged up to Tingulla with a fistful of money, kicked the
door open with your boot and demanded Colin sell.'

‘I'm learning to play their game,' said Queenie. ‘And I intend to win …'

The tepid air blew in from the night sea, lifting the gold-flecked drapes in the penthouse of Paradise Gardens. Colin walked onto the broad balcony on the twentieth floor and gazed into the warm Queensland night. Below, floodlights shone onto the sand, illuminating the white foamy crests of the surf as it rolled sleepily to shore. Colin wondered what lurked in the dark water beyond the beam of the spotlights.

Dina's laughter floated ahead of her as she joined him. ‘Colin, come on, a pile of us are getting into the jacuzzi with a couple of bottles of Bollinger.'

‘Not me. I don't like communal bathing.'

‘Don't be such a drag, it's just for fun.' She leaned her head against his shoulder. ‘I just adore it here. I love the sea breeze and there's always something going on. Why don't we buy one of these units?'

‘Because I'm not made of money, Dina. If you want a place in Surfers Paradise, we'd have to sell Tingulla.'

‘Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. It's not making us any money and it has turned you into a real misery,
caro mio.
Perhaps we should go back to my idea about Italy … a nice villa on the Riviera, you can zip to Roma or Milano in your convertible and look after business for Daddy.'

Colin drained his champagne glass. He said nothing but at this moment the idea had great appeal. He was tired. Running Tingulla was a strain and he knew he wasn't managing well, though he kept telling himself he'd had a run of bad luck. But in his heart he knew that surmounting such obstacles was all part of running a big station. Maybe he should get out rather than slowly go under or wait for a really good season to pull up the finances. The run of bad seasons could last for years. It annoyed him that Queenie had run the place so successfully for so long before Warwick dragged her down.

He turned back to the party. ‘Let's get another drink and think about it.'

Dina did more than think. Rather than return to Tingulla after the weekend festivities at the coast, she flew to Sydney to do some shopping and spend time with her father.

‘Colin isn't happy. And why should he work so hard? For what? I'm bored, he's tired and neglects me. He loves Europe. I have family and friends there. Surely you could find something for him to do, Pappa?'

Dina hadn't called her father that in years and Alfredo Camboni knew he was being manipulated. Nevertheless, he was pleased at the loving attentions of his daughter. ‘If Tingulla is sold, a goodly portion of the proceeds are due to me, but there would be enough for you two to set yourselves up in Italy … if your plans are not too grand … a villa, not a
palazzo,
Dina. And
si,
there are small business matters Colin could look after for me, but he will not make his fortune.'

‘If we need money, Colin can sell one of his flats in Double Bay. That's a good investment he has sitting there. Going back to Europe will be wonderful. Tingulla is beautiful, but so far away from everything.' Dina leaned forward taking her father's hand. ‘Colin would not want Queenie to know about this, of course.'

Camboni nodded. ‘Tell him I will arrange matters discreetly. There is much jealousy between that boy and his sister. Does he know how successful Queenie has become in Sydney?'

Dina flicked her hair in annoyance. She was none too pleased at Queenie — ‘the hick horsewoman', as she called her — now being one of the most sought after women in Sydney, socially and professionally.

‘He knows she is doing interior design work, that's all. He's not really interested. So … how long before we can move to Europe, Pappa?'

Camboni smiled paternally at his glamorous womanly daughter who could still behave like a spoiled and wilful ten-year-old. ‘Don't be
impatient. I cannot wave a magic wand. I'll see what I can do. Incidentally, you'd better tell Colin what you have decided for you both!' he laughed.

John and Queenie studied the plans and building applications for the old Victorian homes in Randwick's George Street. John was frowning and Queenie chewed her bottom lip as Sarah came in carrying a tray of coffee and cake.

‘Problems?'

‘Yes, some other company has also made an offer. Substantially higher, we understand. We have to decide by the end of the week if we are going through with renovating these places or not,' said John.

‘I don't like the way we're being pushed. It makes me suspicious,' said Queenie.

‘I agree. I don't want to get caught in a bidding battle. I think we have to decide on our limit and if we lose,
c'est la vie,
eh, Queenie?'

John reached for the cup Sarah held out to him. ‘There's something going on we don't know about. I just feel it in my bones.'

Queenie continued to stare at the papers.

Saskia watched Bobby massage a special liniment he had made into Bill's long powerful legs. ‘You really love Bill, don't you?'

Bobby straightened up, gave a little groan and began rubbing his back. ‘I guess I do, Saskia. I've looked after a lot of horses in my time but this bloke is special.' He winked confidentially. ‘But for goodness sake, don't tell him.'

Saskia laughed. ‘Tango says he's doing great times in training.'

‘Yeah. Quite amazing really.'

‘So, do you reckon he'll qualify for the Melbourne Cup?'

‘We'll see, we'll see. Time for our walk. See ya, Sas.'

Bobby headed away from the stables with the big horse quietly following like a dog. Once they'd crossed the paddock, Bill would start running in circles around Bobby, following the rules of some game between the two of them.

Saskia saw Tango strolling towards her. ‘Can I help you wash down those two thoroughbreds?' she asked.

‘It's okay, Mick has done it. He's a good bloke as well as an excellent jockey. I was just going for a walk along the creek before lunch. Want to come?'

‘You bet.'

The creek was four feet across and mainly shallow, though after heavy rains it sometimes churned along like a small, angry river. Today, under the clear blue sky, dotted with puffs of cloud, it flowed quietly, making soft music at mini-waterfalls as it dropped into small pools. Grasses, shrubs and reeds fringed the stream and Tango led the way as the two of them picked their way along its edge, following the creek's meandering path through the paddock.

Saskia had come to regard Tango as a man because of his adult physique and his acceptance as a peer by other adults. But now, as they paddled, peered under rocks and just
wandered in silence, Tango seemed like any teenage boy enjoying the pleasures of a favourite haunt.

They both stopped as they rounded a bend to find an ibis standing midstream on spindly legs, his white head and long black beak prodding under the water. The bird lifted its head, swallowed and stepped forward, gracefully probing under the water and eating as it made its way upstream with Saskia and Tango following slowly and softly a short distance behind.

Dragonflies dipped and hovered above the water like shimmering, twitching jewels of turquoise, gold, and red. Small fish darted in pools and a kookaburra chortled in a tree whose roots dipped into the water. The two stopped pointing out things and talking and became silent as if caught in a spell. Stealthily they crept around a large boulder shadowing a deep pool. On the flat edge of the rock, wet and glistening, lay a small brown creature, its dark fur shining in the sun.

Saskia caught her breath in delight as the platypus slid with a plop into the water, its stumpy tail waggling, its broad flat bill poking into the roots of the rushes. ‘I've never seen one before,' she whispered.

Tango grinned back. ‘Nor have I.'

They watched its darting progress through the water, marvelling at its grace before it disappeared under a log embedded in the bank.

The sun was directly above them now and they were feeling the heat. The water was clear, cool and inviting. ‘Do you want to go in?' asked Tango.

‘It's hot. Let's.' Unselfconsciously they pulled off boots, pants and shirts, Saskia wading into the cool water in her panties and camisole top — she didn't need to wear a bra. Tango splashed in beside her in his underwear.

‘Not deep enough to swim, but deeper than a bath,' he said.

‘You could drink this water.'

‘I wouldn't though, probably full of sheep's piddle.'

‘Oh yuck, and I was enjoying this,' giggled Saskia.

Saskia lay in the water hugging a small protruding rock. Tango lay across the upstream opening to the pool and let the water flow across his chest.

‘I wish I didn't have to go back to Sydney,' sighed Saskia.

‘What's your life like down there?'

‘It's nice. I'm glad my mother is doing well now. But I miss the bush.'

‘Do you miss your father?'

‘Yes. Sometimes. That's why I like it here so much … I have Jim and Bobby and TR. I miss old Snowy, too.'

‘Who's he?'

‘The head stockman at Tingulla. He's sort of like a grandfather. He's Aboriginal.'

‘What's your mother like?'

Saskia laughed. ‘I couldn't describe her. You'll have to meet her for yourself.'

‘I once asked TR what your mother was like and he said the same thing — I'd just have to meet her.'

‘I like TR.'

‘Me too.'

‘Where are your parents?'

‘Dead. They were killed in a car accident a couple of years ago. That's when I came away to the bush. I never liked the city, I always wanted to get to the country. But they were my adoptive parents — dunno where my real parents are.'

‘Did you finish school?'

‘High school. But TR is trying to talk me into going to uni. I'm doing a correspondence course,' said Tango shyly.

‘That's terrific. My mother wants me to go to uni, too but I can't imagine what I'll do with my life.'

‘I feel a bit the same way. I do know I want to stay on the land, though.'

Saskia nodded. She didn't confide in Tango and tell him her dream was the same as her mother's … to return to Tingulla.

They left the pool and picked up their clothes, walking along the bank letting the sun dry them before getting dressed again. Tango followed the track that led away from the creek. ‘We'll go back this way.'

The path led through a paddock smothered in golden dandelions and Paterson's curse — the prickly, purple-flowered weed. The track dipped down a small hill and as Saskia wandered ahead of Tango she disturbed a blanket of thousands of white butterflies which had been resting on the ground with their wings upright and together. They rose in a great cloud, the tips of their wings edged in black lace, a gold dot in the centre of each wing.
They rose endlessly from around their feet, fluttering about their heads, and several alighted in Saskia's dark curls like pretty clips.

‘It's a plague,' laughed Tango, waving his arms at the army of silent wings.

‘They don't do any damage, and they're so pretty,' said Saskia. Spontaneously she stretched out her arms and began dancing, spinning and laughing in the cloud of swirling butterflies.

Joining in her laughter, Tango took her hand and they finally emerged from the moving cloud. As the young couple moved away, the butterflies floated back to nestle on the ground in their hollow.

Queenie was poring over plans at her kitchen table when the phone rang.

‘It's me — John.'

‘I was just thinking of you! I've been looking at our development ideas …'

‘We lost,' interjected John bluntly.

‘Oh. By how much?'

‘Quite a lot. Whoever wanted those Randwick places paid through the nose for them. They must figure they're going to make a killing.'

‘We'll have to find something else to throw our money at then.'

John drew a deep breath. ‘Queenie, I've been thinking, and it seems to me I have to put my capital to work. Now this deal has fallen through I've been considering investing in a big waterfront property that's come on the market. It's costly but I figure in a few years
Sydney waterfront mansions will be up there with Californian prices.'

‘I understand, John. You go ahead. I'll look around some more. I still need to raise a lot more money before I can make an offer for Tingulla. Something will come along.'

‘You need something that will turn over and make money, rather than a long-term investment. I'll keep my eyes open too.'

Queenie talked to Judy about looking for a new investment opportunity. ‘But while I'm looking, I guess I'll go ahead and do the Woollahra house for the Ashleys, then,' sighed Queenie.

‘Frankly, I think you need a bit of a holiday, Queenie.'

‘I can't afford the time. But I might take this weekend off and go somewhere. Saskia is staying over with a girlfriend, so I'll have some time to spare.'

‘Go to the mountains, you haven't been there yet, it'll be a change.'