Heart of the Dreaming (50 page)

‘That's very wise, Tango. I have carried so much guilt and regret for so long, it eats away at you. Let's call it a new day, shall we?'

She held out her hand, and Tango took it, and they sat, mother and son, hand in hand, as the horses contentedly nibbled the grass by their feet.

There were no reservations between Saskia and Tango, she ran to him and they hugged in delight and he swung her around and around.

For the next few days, everyone allowed Tango and Queenie time to themselves. They walked and talked and they rode and spent time with the horses. He confided his dreams, told her of a small boy's hurts and failures, of silly incidents and birthday parties and his first crush on a schoolteacher. Queenie told him of her life, and especially of Tingulla.

‘I went there once and I felt so strange,' he said.

‘You did? When?'

‘A few months back. TR sent me because Millie thought something might be wrong. I met Snowy and I felt like … like I'd been there before. I can't explain it.'

‘Snowy could explain it to you better. Tingulla is your Dreaming place, too. It's where we all belong. Ah, one day, Tango … who knows …' She sighed.

He dropped a comforting arm over her shoulders. ‘One day at a time … eh, Mum?'

From an upstairs window TR saw the gesture and smiled to himself. He had kept in the background knowing Queenie needed space to come to terms with this and build the link with her son. But TR, too, had a longing. He ached to take Queenie in his arms,
but he knew he couldn't rush her. ‘Give it time,' he kept telling himself impatiently.

At the end of the week Saskia had to return to school for exams, and would stay on with Sarah and John.

‘That's all right with you is it, Sarah?' asked Queenie on the phone from Guneda.

‘Of course. Queenie, I'm so thrilled for you. But I just can't believe you went through all that and never told me. We were best friends …'

‘Sarah, you were overseas, and we were both wrapped up in our own lives at the time. I'm just thankful I had Millie to turn to …'

‘Dear old Millie. She must be as smug as a mother hen,' laughed Sarah.

‘She is going round preening and fluffing up her feathers,' admitted Queenie.

‘So, what are your plans?'

‘Plans? For once in my life I haven't thought past the next moment.'

‘Just enjoy Tango, Queenie.'

‘I am. Thanks, Sarah.'

It was TR who made plans.

He took Millie to one side and spoke to her at length. He sought out Saskia and spoke privately to her. She flung her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek. Together they went to Tango who grinned and nodded.

Queenie was oblivious to the plotting. Each day brought her closer to Tango, closing the gap of years, as they discovered things in common and came to know each other.

Millie came to Queenie and announced she
was going back down to Sydney to finish packing up the house. ‘You stay here with Tango. There's no need for you to go. I'm sure you've done most of the work anyway.'

‘You are a dear, Millie. I could get the packing company in to do it, but I'd nearly finished when TR turned up. Just throw it in cartons and I'll sort it out when I get to Cricklewood.'

Millie nodded. ‘Oh, by the way, John called earlier. Said to call him at the office. Said he might have a buyer lined up for your place in Sydney.'

‘Is that why you've offered to go back, Millie … Oh dear, maybe I should go.'

‘No way. Me and Sarah and John will fix it all up. Take a holiday.'

With Millie away, Jim drifted back into his routine, leaving Tango, TR and Queenie in the house. Mum Ryan was nursing her sick sister and was still away. Queenie suddenly felt uncomfortable. And TR knew it.

While Tango was working he caught her alone on the verandah and pulled up a chair. He took off his hat and spun it slowly in his hands, not looking at her as he spoke. ‘Queenie … don't you think it's time we talked? I've tried to leave you and Tango alone together … but now I think it's time we spoke. We had a deal, remember?'

‘We did?'

‘I wanted you to come with me to Guneda for a special reason, after which I said I'd leave you alone. It's up to you.'

‘What is?'

He lifted his eyes, a bemused look on his
face. ‘I know you're being deliberately obtuse. I want you to come away with me for a few days … just as a friend, no pressure. I mean it …' he grinned, seeing her quizzical glance.

‘We have to get to know each other again too … I want us to be friends. I was going to go to all sorts of lengths and subterfuge to get you to go away, but then I thought, no, I'll just ask you straight out. Just a short trip … there's some land I'd like you to see, just out of interest. We'd only be gone a day or so. What do you say?'

She was silent. She could find no good reason to refuse. She was having a difficult time coming to terms with her past. Maybe she needed to settle all the ghosts.

‘No pressure?'

TR lifted his hands. ‘Mates, okay?'

‘Okay.' Queenie stood and walked away.

TR took a deep breath, he'd given his word. Damn it.

The next day he had his Range Rover packed, had found Tango and told him they were going bush for a few days.

Tango grinned. ‘You look after my mother, TR.'

‘I will. And son, take that knowing look off your face.'

They embraced unselfconsciously.

The first night they stopped at a country motel and stayed in separate rooms, meeting for breakfast.

‘After today we'll be bush, so it'll be swag time. Weather's good, so we'll be all right,'
said TR solicitously as he smothered his toast in Vegemite.

‘I have been into the bush once or twice before, TR,' joked Queenie.

By the second day Queenie was relaxing and enjoying TR's easy friendliness and his swift wit. He made her laugh often and at night he played his harmonica to her. She fell asleep rolled snugly in her sleeping bag, her cheek pillowed on her arms, the sweet sounds of the harmonica filling her dreams.

They inspected the property TR had been told about, but didn't think it looked much of an investment. He told her about Clayton Hindmarsh, who still had plans for more development in Australia. And he told her of being pursued by Ginny, imitating her coy Southern drawl.

They were still heading northwest. As the day began to draw in Queenie peered into the setting sun. ‘Are we heading for anywhere in particular?'

The Range Rover bounced through some spindly scrub till they came to a stand of tall trees by a billabong. ‘This is where I was heading.'

‘It's pretty.'

‘Let's make camp before dark.'

They worked together swiftly and efficiently. TR cooked their meal, and Queenie took their plates down to wash in the billabong. ‘The cook never washes up,' she reminded him.

It was still early and they lay on their swags on either side of the fire, gazing at the diamond-bright stars.

TR was first to break the silence. ‘So, Queenie … tell me about Tango. I need to know, too.'

They hadn't talked about Tango or the past till now.

‘What do you want to know?' she asked in a low voice.

‘Everything. I know it couldn't have been easy and I would give anything to be able to go back and spare you all that pain.'

‘We can't go back, TR.'

‘If it hadn't been for bloody Colin … taking my letters … goddamn him.' TR leapt to his feet and kicked a rock, his voice choked and full of anger. ‘I feel like going to Italy and … I don't know what. One day I'll have it out with him.'

‘TR! No. Sit down. Please don't be angry. There has been enough pain and bitterness. Let it be. You have to let it go … it's the only way. I've come to understand that. I've forgiven him. Poor Colin, I feel so sad and sorry for him,' said Queenie gently.

‘You've got a bigger heart than I have, Queenie,' said TR, sitting beside her. ‘I don't think I will ever forgive him for what he did to us.'

Queenie looked thoughtful. ‘Looking back now I can see he had such anger about him ever since he was a little kid. Even before Mum and Dad died … he was so jealous of me, we were so competitive. I never realised how it affected him.'

‘You mean because you were always better at everything … more of a success than he was?'

‘I suppose so. But I never thought for one moment I was replacing him in Dad's affections. Jealousy is such a sickness, it twists how you look at the world.'

‘And how you interpret actions. Ah, Queenie …'

He looked at her, his eyes filled with love and longing. He reached out and gently took her hand, tenderly touching each finger. ‘Tell me about Tango. God, how you must have hated me …'

‘I was confused … and hurt, yes. It wasn't easy giving him up, you know.' Her voice was barely a whisper, her eyes closed. ‘If only, if only …'

TR blindly reached for her, wrapping his arms about her, his voice tearful. ‘I understand, I know … I know …' He rocked her gently.

Slowly the pain she had carried in her heart for so many years slipped away. She took a deep shuddering breath.

‘There, oh, my darling Queenie …' TR kissed the top of her head. ‘Oh God, I love you. How I love you.'

Queenie drew away and stared solemnly at him. ‘I've always loved you too, TR. But then, you knew that.'

They stared at each other. TR wanted to grab her with all the fierce passion that was welling inside him. But he kept still.

‘So, here we are then,' Queenie smiled softly at him. ‘What next, TR?'

He continued to stare at her lovely face illuminated in the firelight, but didn't move.

‘Oh, TR.' Queenie reached out to him and softly kissed his mouth. She drew back and smiled at him then kissed him tenderly once more.

TR wrapped his arms about her and embraced her with all the urgency and passion he had kept buried for so long. She kissed him back wildly, and without taking his mouth from hers, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to his swag.

There, wrapped in each other's arms, the years fell away and they were once again two ardent lovers whose passion and deep love had never died, and who had waited so long for this reunion of bodies, souls and hearts.

They stayed at the camp site for two more days, then TR packed up and announced they had one more stop to make.

Queenie was sitting on a log brushing her hair. Without makeup, and wearing TR's loose blue shirt, she looked like a teenager. TR sat beside her, took the brush from her and continued stroking it through her hair. Queenie closed her eyes contentedly as the morning sun sent bright lights shining through her burnished golden brown hair.

‘Queenie … there's just one thing …' he began softly.

‘Ummm …' she didn't open her eyes but moved her head slightly as he lifted the thick river of soft hair in his hands.

‘You will marry me, now … won't you?'

Her eyes flew open in surprise and joy, love dancing from their emerald depths. ‘TR … I
love you.' Her lips parted in a smile to reveal her perfect teeth. ‘You never give up do you?'

‘I said I'd wait for you … for as long as it took.'

She tilted her face to his to be kissed. ‘The waiting's over, my darling …'

Queenie didn't ask where they were headed. She floated in a blissful state, carried along by TR who whistled as he drove; and when Queenie took over the driving, he sang and played his harmonica to her.

Queenie stared at the sweeping landscape unfolding before them. The dusty red earth faded to pink in the distance where it met a mauve sky which spread upwards to azure blue. Hazy grey-green trees seemed to dance above the surface of the ground, and an eagle drifted lazily across the empty sky. Queenie felt a lump come to her throat. This was her country.

In another hour they were on the familiar road. TR reached over and held her hand, steering with the other.

Queenie gripped his hand, tears rolling down her cheeks as they passed under the great archway carved by grandfather Hanlon who'd burned the word
Tingulla
into the top log.

‘Why are we here, TR?'

‘You'll see.' He released her hand and hit the car horn as they wound up the driveway. The lawns were green, the fountain splashed, and the windows of the grand house were open, with lace curtains fluttering in the
breeze. The front door stood open, wide and welcoming.

TR turned off the motor.

‘Who lives here, TR? I can't go in. I can't.'

‘Queenie, darling, look …'

She looked up and spilling from the house came … everyone. Millie and Jim, Snowy, Sarah and John, Dingo, Alf, Sarah's parents, friends and neighbours she'd known all her life, and leading them all were Saskia and Tango.

‘Why are they here?'

‘There's only one place we could get married. Here …'

He kissed her and everyone surrounding the car began cheering and clapping and banging on the dusty metal.

‘There's just one more thing.' TR opened the glove box and took out a thick envelope and handed it to her. ‘This belongs to you.'

Puzzled, she opened it, pulling out the heavy papers. They crackled as she unfolded them, to find the deeds to Tingulla made out in her name.

‘I was the last mystery buyer. I was just waiting for the right time to give it to you. Welcome home, Queenie.'

Millie was dusting the small walnut table in the upper hall when she picked up the silver framed photograph.

Queenie and TR smiled at her, their faces aglow, arms linked, joy radiating from the coloured photograph. Queenie held a bouquet of freesias, wattle and jasmine and she was wearing the silvery gown and opal necklace she'd worn at her twenty-first birthday party. This time her hair was coiled elegantly atop her head, crowned by a wreath of dainty flowers and ferns.

‘Ah, Queenie, you looked no different on your wedding day than the day you two met … seventeen years ago.' Millie sighed nostalgically.

‘Milleeeee …' Ruthie's call echoed up the sweeping Tingulla staircase.

Millie headed downstairs, the dust rag wiping the banister as she went. ‘What's up, Ruthie?'

‘A letter for you from Saskia at her school.'

‘Oh, she's a good girl,' smiled Millie, sitting down in the middle of the stairs to open the letter.

‘What does she say?' Ruthie sat beside her.

‘She says she's writing this in boring old science class …' began Millie with a laugh.

The two dark heads, one now specked with grey, bent over the page covered by the sprawling writing. Above their heads hung the portrait of Rose — back in its place once more. To one side now hung another painting — of Patrick on horseback. The two pictures seemed to beam down upon the peaceful scene below.

In the far saddling yards TR and Tango were breaking a colt, TR showing his son the gentle skill which had made him such a master.

Further away, Queenie rode beside Snowy.

They reined in their horses at the crest of the small rise overlooking Tingulla homestead and the creek with the blue hills shimmering in the distance.

Queenie patted Nareedah. ‘Well done, not bad for an old lady.' She gazed over her land spread before her. ‘It's so beautiful. It's good to be home.'

‘I always knew you'd come back, Queenie. This is where you belong.'

‘Your home too, Snowy.'

The old Aborigine looked into the distance, his eyes seeing through time. ‘More than home. This our Dreaming place.'

Queenie leaned down and undid the small
buckle on her saddle bag. ‘You've been Tingulla's spiritual guardian, Snowy.'

She took the small song stick from the bag, turning it over in her hands, looking at the abstract pattern of lines burned into the wood. She handed it to Snowy, remembering the day he had given it to her when she and Saskia had driven away from Tingulla. ‘This brought me back to my Dreaming. Now it should come back to you.' She handed the sacred totem to him.

Nodding to himself, Snowy put it in his shirt pocket and patted it. ‘We safe now.'

Together the horses trotted back down the hill as a magpie sang in the distance, rippling scales of contentment that drifted towards the bright blue sky.