Matilda's Last Waltz (44 page)

She smiled as she took the drink from him. ‘No. But he doesn't know that.'

It was almost four in the morning and the party was still going strong. Diane had disappeared into the night with her drover, Brett had been dragged off protesting by his mates to join in a particularly energetic reel which seemed to go on forever, and Jenny was exhausted. Her feet hurt, she'd drunk too much champagne, and Charlie's relentless pursuit was beginning to pall. It didn't look as if Brett would be driving her back to the homestead as she'd hoped either. With a sigh, she took a last look at the swirling dancers and left the barn.

The night was cool, the sky a pale velvet lilac in the hour before dawn, and as the noise from the barn faded into the distance, she took off her shoes and enjoyed the feel of the dry earth between her toes. The long walk home would give her time to clear her head and to hoard the precious time she'd spent with Brett.

The house was almost deserted, the lights streaming from windows into the gloom like homing beacons. She danced up the stairs singing. It had been the most wonderful night – now she could look forward to tomorrow.

*   *   *

Jenny woke five hours later. Diane must have crept in sometime earlier for she was sprawled on the bed beside her, dress rucked up around her hips. Ripper wagged his tail hopefully.

‘Let me wash and dress first then I'll take you out before we go home,' whispered Jenny. The thought of Churinga spurred her on. Churinga and Brett. They had become the two most important things in her new life and she was at last looking forward to a future.

Leaving Diane to sleep, she hurried downstairs and stepped out on to the verandah. The business of the day was already under way, with horses and men moving about the yard, and the smell of bacon wafting from the kitchen. She let Ripper off his leash to go rooting in the shrubbery and breathed in the heady mixture of dust and bougainvillaea. It was going to be another hot day, with no hint of the rain they all so badly needed.

Her gaze trawled the yard and drifted over to the bungalow that Brett and the foreman had shared for the last few days. She wondered if he was already on his way back to Churinga or if he was still somewhere on Kurrajong. Then she caught a glimpse of something moving in the deep shadows that surrounded the bungalow – and hope died.

For there was Lorraine. Shoes in hand, hair tangled and make-up smeared, creeping through the door.

Jenny hadn't realised she'd moved off the verandah until she found herself halfway across the yard. I mustn't jump to conclusions, she told herself firmly. Lorraine had probably been with the foreman or was even making her way back from one of the visitors' wagons that had been parked behind the shearer's bungalows. It could just have been a trick of the light.

‘G'day. That was some party, eh?' Lorraine balanced on one foot as she struggled into her shoes. She tried to bring order to her mussed hair and finally gave up with a knowing grin. ‘Don't expect Brett to show too early at Churinga. He's had a heavy night.' She winked, ‘If you know what I mean.'

Jenny's breath was sharp, and she rammed her fists into her pockets before she was tempted to grab Lorraine's bed-bedraggled hair and give it a good tug. She would not let this tart see how painful her words had been. ‘I have no idea what you're talking about,' she said haughtily. ‘And what were you doing in the foreman's bungalow? It's out of bounds as you well know.'

Lorraine laughed. ‘Bloody hell, you sound just like my old school teacher.' Her expression hardened and one bright red nail jabbed the air between them. ‘Look here, Mrs High and Mighty. This ain't your place and I'll flaming go where I flaming want.' She tossed her head and with one last defiant sneer delivered her departing blow. ‘Brett said I could stay – so why don't you take it up with him?'

Jenny watched her climb into a battered utility and roar off the property before turning back to the house. She raced upstairs and slammed her way into the bedroom. ‘Get up, Diane. We're going home.'

Diane's bleary eyes were smudged with make-up and her hair drifted over her face. ‘What's going on?' she mumbled.

Jenny began to pack her bag with ruthless efficiency. ‘It's that bloody, bloody man,' she swore as she fought to keep the tears at bay. ‘You'll never guess what he's done now.'

Diane yawned and stretched. ‘I couldn't even begin to try. Can't we at least have coffee before we go?' she whined. ‘My mouth tastes horrible.'

‘No, we can't,' hissed Jenny. ‘The sooner I get back to Churinga the better. I've made a complete fool of myself. It's time I finished the diaries then got back to Sydney.'

She slammed drawers and crammed underwear into the bag. ‘Lorraine's welcome to Brett, and Squires is welcome to Churinga,' she said gruffly. ‘And you,' she said sternly to the little dog, ‘will have to get used to lamp posts.'

Chapter Sixteen

Diane remained silent as she drove towards Churinga. Jenny was obviously in no mood to talk, and experience told her it was best to let her friend stew for a while. She would explain everything eventually – she always did. Yet it was frustrating to have to wait, and the lack of sleep and coffee did nothing to ease this frustration.

Diane clung grimly to the steering wheel as she negotiated the barely discernible road and wished she was back in the city. Not that she couldn't appreciate the primitive beauty of the place, she admitted as she watched a lone hawk float effortlessly above the scrub, but she'd got used to proper roads and shops, and having neighbours that weren't several hundreds of miles away.

Lighting a cigarette, she glanced across at Jenny who was staring out of the window. If only she would explain why they had to make this mad dash for Churinga. What the hell had happened between her and Brett to make her so angry?

The silence was suddenly unbearable. ‘I don't know how you can even think about living out here, Jen. There's nothing to see but earth and sky.'

Jenny turned her head, eyes wide with amazement. ‘Nothing to see? Are you mad? Look at the colours, at the way the horizon shimmers and the grass ripples like molten silver.'

Diane felt a quiet satisfaction. She'd known Jenny couldn't resist defending the primal beauty of the place. ‘I suppose it has a certain rugged charm,' she said nonchalantly. ‘But all this space is claustrophobic.'

‘You're talking in riddles, Diane.'

She smiled. ‘Not really. Think about it, Jen. Here we have thousands of miles of nothing, and in the middle of that nothing a bunch of people isolated in small pockets. That's where the claustrophobia comes in.'

‘Go on.'

Diane glanced at her. She could see Jenny was getting the point but there was no harm in expanding upon it. ‘These people live and work in tiny communities. They stay in touch through the radio and now and again meet each other at the local dance, or parties, or picnic races. Always the same faces, the same topic of conversation, the same old rivalries.'

‘It's like that everywhere,' Jenny interrupted.

‘Not really. Sydney's a big place, with a lot of people who don't know each other. It's easy to move and start again, to change your job and make new friends. There are other things to occupy the mind, boredom doesn't set in quite so firmly. Out here there's nothing but sheep and land. The isolation brings people together because they need that human contact, but with that contact comes gossip and the fuelling of old rivalries. It must be almost impossible to escape. These people rarely move on – especially the squatters. They have an intimate knowledge of each other through gossip and intermarriage. Loyalties are cast iron. Make an enemy out here, and you make a dozen.'

Jenny stared out of the window. ‘I think you're exaggerating, Diane. There's plenty of space for everyone, and if a person wants, they need never leave home.'

‘Okay. But that home is filled with people who have their own set of loyalties, their own rivalries and grudges. What if you don't get on with them? Find their manners boorish, their habits repellent? It's almost guaranteed you'll see them at least once a week. There's nothing you can do to avoid it – they live and work on your land. Are part of the small community that makes up the station.'

Jenny was silent for a long moment, then turned to face her friend. ‘I know what you're getting at and I realise you're only trying to help. But this is something I have to deal with, Diane. So drop it.'

Trevor whined up a steep slope as Diane crunched the gears. ‘What happened between you and Brett?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Don't give me that! I saw the way you looked at each other. You were positively blooming.'

‘Then you're as blind as I am,' retorted Jenny. ‘Brett may be charming company but he and Charlie are two of a kind – just out for what they can get.'

‘Where does Charlie come into all this?'

‘He doesn't. Not really. He's good company, that's all, but his charm can't hide the fact he's after Churinga. And so's Brett.'

Diane frowned. ‘How do you know that?'

‘Because he more or less said so,' Jenny replied with exasperation. ‘It's all he's worried about since I arrived. Pestering me about my plans, following me around trying to convince me not to sell.'

‘I think you're being a little harsh on him, Jen. He seemed genuine enough when I met him, and he obviously thinks a great deal of you.'

‘Hmph. Cares so much that after whispering sweet nothings in my ear, he spends the night with Lorraine.'

Diane almost lost control of the camper as her concentration wavered, and the wheels jolted into a particularly steep rut. ‘Do you know that for a fact?'

‘I saw her leave his bungalow this morning. She was only too pleased to make it clear that she and Brett had spent a very energetic night together, and by the looks of her she wasn't lying.' Jenny's voice was sharp.

Diane was puzzled. Her instincts had failed her for once. She'd been so sure he was as smitten with Jenny as she obviously was with him. So sure Lorraine posed little or no threat. No wonder Jen had been upset this morning.

‘I'm sorry it didn't work out,' she said softly. ‘I thought…'

‘Well, you thought wrong.' Jenny straightened in the seat, arms folded tightly around her as if to ward off further probing. ‘I should have had more bloody sense than to fall for the first handsome man who strung me a line. I don't know what possessed me.'

‘Loneliness?' We all need someone in our lives, Jen. It's been a year. Time to begin again.'

‘That's rubbish and you know it,' she said firmly. ‘I'm perfectly happy with my own company. The last thing I need is a man cluttering up my life.'

‘That's what I thought,' said Diane wryly. ‘But since Rufus went back to England, I've found I've missed him more than I'd have thought possible.' She was aware of Jenny's long stare and kept her eyes on the road ahead. ‘That's not to say I won't get over him. We all do that eventually,' she said with a lightness she didn't feel.

Jenny was silent for a long moment. ‘In my case, it's more a question of hurt pride,' she said finally. ‘I suppose I was flattered, and in my vulnerable state easily fooled – and that's what makes me so mad.'

Diane nodded in sympathy. ‘Better to get mad than skulk away and lick your wounds. But if you want to restore that pride, you'll have to face Brett again before you leave.'

‘I know,' Jenny replied firmly. ‘And the sooner the better.'

Diane wasn't fooled by the brittle veneer. She knew Jenny too well.

*   *   *

Brett was puzzled by Jenny's early disappearance from Kurrajong. He'd wanted to explain that he'd fully intended to take her home from the dance but by the time he'd managed to get away from his mates she'd already left the barn. Coupled with a blinding headache, his frustration that morning was heightened by the men's reluctance to leave their beds and head for Churinga.

His patience almost ran out when he discovered two of the Aboriginal boys had gone walkabout, and one of the horses had cast a shoe. He'd had to wait for the Kurrajong farrier to fit another one, and in the time it took to do that, the men had sloped off and it took a further half hour to round them all up again. Eventually he'd managed to get everyone loaded into the trucks, and now, as the sun began to set behind Tjuringa mountain, the ragged caravan was on the final leg of their journey.

He breathed a sigh of contentment as the homestead came into view. The hippy bus was parked by the front steps, Jenny was at home. Yet by the time he'd seen to the horses and dispensed the orders for the next day night had fallen and the lights had come on in the bedrooms. It was too late to visit, he realised, and although he longed to see her, he knew he would have to wait until morning.

He slept well, dreaming of violet eyes and a dress that reminded him of the ocean. As the first rays of light touched his face he leaped out of bed. Within half an hour he was walking across the flattened earth of the yard, his pulse racing as he caught sight of her on the verandah.

Jenny hadn't seen him yet, and he took those few moments to study her. She looked good, even in those old jeans and faded shirt. Her hair was the colour of his chestnut gelding, and as she strolled along the verandah, its copper light caught the early sun. The warm memory of her dancing in his arms made him smile, and brought a lightness to his step that had been missing for too long.

‘G'day, Jen. Great party, eh?'

She was standing with her back to him at the top of the steps and at first he thought she hadn't heard him. He was about to speak again when finally she turned round, and what he saw made him go cold. Her eyes were focused on a distant point beyond his shoulder and her face could have been hewn from marble for all the emotion it showed.