Right As Rain (29 page)

“He said what?”

Mackenna looked at her brother. They'd had such a smooth run lately she didn't want to rock the boat.

“He said it was my fault, didn't he?”

She nodded. “It doesn't matter. It's sorted.”

“Once again Patrick is the scapegoat.” He started collecting the empty pizza boxes then he stopped and leaned in towards Mackenna. “I tried to tell Cam there were sheep in that paddock but he wouldn't listen, said that was where you wanted them and you were the boss. Who was I to disagree? I'm only the silly young brother.”

Mackenna stared at him. “That's quite a chip on your shoulder, Patch,” she said gently.

“I don't mind being the butt of the jokes when I do something stupid.”

Mackenna raised her eyebrows.

“But I'm not taking the blame for everything that goes wrong around here,” he snapped.

Here we go. Mackenna could feel her own irritation rising. “Like what?”

“Like gates being left open, sheep in the wrong paddock, water not being checked. Who do you blame when I'm not here?” Patrick's voice was low but his eyes blazed.

Mackenna opened her mouth and closed it. Cam's smirking face came straight to mind. When Patrick wasn't around and things went wrong, Cam always had an explanation to shift the blame. But when she thought about it, if Patrick was around, Cam often managed to point the finger at him. She felt a pang of guilt that she had been so ready to believe the hired help over her brother.

“I know I'm not as up on farming as you and Dad,” Patrick said, “but I'm not an idiot.”

He held her gaze a moment longer then picked up the stack of pizza boxes and went outside.

Mackenna sat and thought back over the time since she'd returned from her holiday and found Cam installed in the family home. He always had a ready answer for everything. By the time Patrick came back to the kitchen Mackenna had replayed several events, but without the shutters over her eyes.

“Patrick, can you sit a moment?” she asked tentatively.

He paused then came and sat opposite her.

“I want to ask you something and I don't want you to get antsy,” Mackenna said. “It's just a question.”

He rolled his eyes but remained seated.

“Do you remember when we were drenching sheep?”

“Of course, and you told me off for wasting drench. That was the day I got a call from Yasmine in the hospital.”

“I didn't know that. What happened?”

“She couldn't keep anything down and she was dehydrated. They put her in hospital for a couple of days.”

“You poor things,” Mackenna said. “I wish I'd known about the baby back then.”

“Anyway,” Patrick said, “back to me wasting drench.”

“Yes, well forget that bit. I remember you taking that call now. I was annoyed at the time.”

Patrick snorted. “What's new?”

Mackenna ignored him. “When you dosed those sheep, do you remember giving any of them extra?”

“Of course not. I'd already been told off for wasting drench. Anyway, isn't it poisonous if they get too much?”

Mackenna nodded. “Three sheep died that day.”

“And I'm to blame, I suppose?”

“That's not what I'm saying.” In Mackenna's mind she replayed Cam taking over the drenching from Patrick, then finding the dead sheep, and Cam pointing the blame clearly at Patrick but convincing her not to say anything. She'd been manipulated.

“What are you saying then?” Patrick asked.

“In hindsight I think Cam did it. He's good at bluffing his way through things. I don't think he knew as much about drenching as he made out. When we found those dead sheep he pointed the finger at you but made me feel like a heel if I mentioned it.”

“And you went along with it.” Patrick shook his head slowly. “What else have I taken the fall for that I didn't do?”

“I don't know,” Mackenna replied vaguely.

“What did you say last week about me not shutting the gate over at Murphy's place?”

“I don't want to fight with you, Patrick.”

“I'm not looking for a fight, but what you didn't let me tell you when you accused me of not taking responsibility was that Cam ended up doing that job. Dad asked me to help him with a water trough and Cam said he'd check the sheep on his way to town.”

Mackenna stared at Patrick and recalled how Hugh had defended him that day. Even Hugh was ready to take Patrick's side. Why did she find it so hard?

“I'm sorry, Patrick. I won't be so easily fooled in the future.”

“Don't worry about it. Anyway, he can't blame me if I'm not here.” Patrick stood up. “I'm off to bed. Yas and I have to get away early in the morning so we won't see you before we go.”

“Thanks for all you've done.” Mackenna stood up and gave her little brother a hug. “I have really appreciated your help.”

She watched him turn away. She wasn't so sure Cam wouldn't find some way to blame Patrick for things going wrong even in his absence. Then another thought struck her.

“Patrick.”

He turned back.

“Did you ever meet this mate that Cam stays with?”

“I've met a few blokes he hangs out with at the pub. He could stay with any of them.”

“Do you remember their names?”

“No, I didn't talk to them much, they were more interested in chasing women.” Patrick scratched his head. “There was one bloke who Cam hung out with more than the others. I think his name was Trevor but they called him by a nickname . . . Dingo. I remember now, it suited him. He's a lean, sharp-eyed guy with a pointy nose. Ginger hair. Looks like he's been in a fight or two.”

“I know him,” Mackenna said. “Thanks.”

“Goodnight.” Patrick raised a hand in a short wave as he left.

Mackenna sat back at the table. “Trevor Dingle,” she murmured. He was aptly named Dingo, often on the prowl and up to no good, but always eluding any charges that could stick. If Cam was hanging out with him, that couldn't be good.

Mackenna was at a loose end. She and Cam had spent the day doing the last follow-ups from crutching and getting crossbreeds ready for market. She'd been on edge, watching his every move, trying not to be too obvious. Finally, he'd finished and gone for the weekend. Now she was at the Gatehouse alone and unable to relax. One minute she was wondering about Cam, was he just a sloppy worker who managed to lay blame elsewhere for his mistakes, or was there more to him than that? The next she was thinking of Adam. His grandfather's funeral must be over by now. Would he come back to see her or would he return to New Zealand?

She drifted from room to room in the Gatehouse. The walls glowed pink from the rays of the setting sun. There were no guests booked for the weekend but she'd put an ad in the local paper this week so she had to be organised just in case. She had her menu sorted and she planned to shop for the remaining ingredients in the morning. She'd have to drive her parents' car in and pick up a new battery for her car at the same time. She and Patrick had pushed it down the hill in the hope she might be able to jump-start it but had no luck. The car was still half under the carport, where it had coasted to a silent stop several days ago.

Mackenna flicked on the kitchen light and looked in the fridge for something easy to make a meal with. She gave up and plucked out a beer instead, lifted the top and tilted the bottle to the empty room. “To success,” she said and took a sip. A wave of sadness swept over her. What she wanted was someone to share her day with.

Her mobile buzzed with a text message. Hugh was asking if she was home. She replied yes and would he like to come over. Her phone remained silent for a few minutes then she got a response:
on my way
.

Inspired to have someone else to cook for, she threw together a risotto. Good old reliable Hugh. He was a dear friend. For a while there her feelings for him had been confused but she knew now she loved him as a friend, no more than that. She looked forward to sharing a meal with him, with friendly banter and no complications. The food was all but ready to serve by the time he arrived carrying a bottle of wine.

“You're a sight for sore eyes,” she said, careful to give him a friendly welcoming peck on the cheek. Nothing that could be construed as anything more.

“Mum and Dad have gone to some event at the school. I wasn't in the mood,” he said.

“I hope you haven't eaten?”

He followed her to the kitchen. “Not yet, thank goodness. That smells good.”

“It's risotto with bacon and leek. A kind of BLT.” She chuckled. “Truthfully, it's made with whatever I could find in the fridge.”

She served the risotto and he poured the wine.

“We fit well together, don't we?” Hugh said as he sat in front of the plate she'd set down for him.

Mackenna paused.

He grinned at her and raised his glass. “To good friends.”

She relaxed and raised hers. “Couldn't survive without them,” she said.

They both tucked into the risotto.

“Mmm!” Hugh said through a mouthful. “This is good. You sure I can't convince you to leave all this and come away with me as my personal chef?”

Mackenna put down her fork and met his eyes across the table. “Is that a proposal?”

He smiled at her. “No.”

“So you're going then?”

“Yes.”

“I'm happy for you but I'll miss you.”

“I think I've made things more complicated than they should have been,” Hugh said.

“You think?” Mackenna grinned at him but his face remained serious.

“I mistook our good friendship for something more.”

Mackenna took in his solemn expression then burst out laughing. “That's so funny,” she said.

“Hardly.”

“No, I mean it's the same for me. These last weeks since you've been back, I've been confused as well. But we're good friends. Not like you and Carol.”

Hugh sat back in his seat. His face crumpled in pain.

“Oh, Hugh.” Mackenna leant forward. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stir up old memories, but Carol's been dead a long time now. She'd want you to find someone else.”

“It's not that.”

“What then?”

“Carol and I were good friends,” Hugh began, “and I loved her but ... as a friend. I should never have taken it further. I was going to tell her the night she died. I drank too much, trying to get up the courage while I waited for her to come home – she never did. I still don't know why she tried to drive back here that night but I must have given her some indication. I keep imagining her upset and driving . . . and it was my fault.”

“You can't keep blaming yourself, Hugh. Carol was responsible for her death, not you.”

His face filled with alarm. “You can't believe she killed herself?”

“Not on purpose,” Mackenna said quickly. “I don't mean that, but I'm pretty sure she had no idea what you were going to tell her.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because it would have been a relief for her, not a terrible revelation.”

“How?”

Mackenna studied the face of her childhood friend. Would she make things better or worse by telling him what she knew? She inhaled deeply and reached for his hand.

“Remember the night before she died, when we were all out together?”

“We were celebrating my graduation.”

“You were drinking with some mates at the bar and Carol was suddenly sad. I asked her what was wrong. She had her nursing degree and you two were facing a bright future together.”

Hugh nodded.

Mackenna clutched his hand tighter. “She thought she'd made a big mistake. You two were great friends but she doubted the future. You were mates who should never have become lovers.”

“Carol said that?”

Mackenna nodded.

Hugh snatched back his hand. “You're just saying that to ease my guilt.”

“No I'm not.”

“Why didn't you tell me that when she died then?”

“I didn't know you were feeling guilty because you felt the same way. I wasn't going to tell
you
, Carol's grieving boyfriend, that she didn't really love you. What kind of heartless bitch would that make me?”

They sat in silence, their half-eaten meal going cold.

Mackenna shivered. .The air was suddenly chilly. She picked up the bottle of wine.

“I've got the fire set in the dining room. Let's go up there.”

Hugh followed her. “This is new.” He patted the couch then sat on it.

“Only for me. My aunty, Caroline, didn't need it anymore.”

Hugh watched in silence while she lit the fire and coaxed it to life. Mackenna sat down beside him and refilled their glasses. Still he didn't speak and she was beginning to wonder if she'd done the right thing in telling him about Carol.

He took a sip of wine then leant forward staring at the flames. “Why do you think she drove home that night?”

“I don't know.”

“Was she running away?”

“Carol was never one to avoid tricky situations. I think she'd been mulling it over for a while and that night she'd finally come to a decision.”

“Then why didn't she tell me?”

“On your graduation night? She didn't hate you.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“She was still your friend, you know,” Mackenna said. “Whatever made her leave, I don't think running away was the reason.”

They both stared at the flames.

“What a sad, mixed-up pair we've become,” Mackenna said. “Carol's probably laughing at us right now.”

Hugh sat back. “Time to move on?”

“Yes.”

He raised his glass again. “To good friends.”

“One for all and all for one.”