Hayley knew she should probably just have called Luke, but she needed to get away from the cottage for a while. She needed a distraction and she wanted to get his advice about the miniature Galloways, which she was pretty sure could have been done over the phone or by text. It certainly wasn’t an excuse to see him again. She’d almost talked herself out of it in fact, seeing as the chances of turning up unannounced and finding him home instead of out in the paddock was pretty unlikely, but she’d thought that if he wasn’t home she’d just go for a drive instead.
She pulled up at the front gates and noticed they were locked. Frowning, she was just about to turn around when a ute pulled up beside her and the window wound down.
‘Hi,’ Hayley said, feeling a little flustered as she caught Luke’s lopsided grin. ‘I’m sorry to turn up uninvited like this,’ she started, then pointed at the padlocked gates and the sign about a biosecurity area partially camouflaged by a newly planted shrub with huge bright red flowers. ‘It looks like you’re not expecting visitors.’
‘Oh yeah, that,’ he nodded, and judging by his tone, he wasn’t impressed with whatever that was. ‘A new lot of rules and regulations.’
‘I should have called.’
‘You don’t need an invitation to drop by,’ he assured her. ‘We’re just supposed to keep the gate locked. Anyway, what do you need?’
A good-looking farmer would hit the spot right now. Hayley swallowed hard. Don’t even go there, girl. Forcing her wayward mind back on task, she gave him a calm smile. ‘I was wondering if I could ask your opinion on something.’
‘Sure.’ He started to climb out of the ute. ‘I’ll just open the gate. Come on up to the house.’
‘Oh no, I don’t want to interrupt your work, it won’t take long.’
‘It’s almost smoko anyway. Good timing,’ he grinned over at her.
As she waited for him to park and walked beside him towards the house, Hayley asked him about the cattle.
‘I guess it depends on what you want to achieve. I’ve heard a bit about these miniature cattle, and the Galloways are a pretty old breed, so they have a lot going for them. They’re fairly versatile. If you were wanting to raise cattle specifically for beef, I’d probably go for a bigger animal. But I’m assuming…’ He glanced across at her and they swapped a smile.
‘I really only want them for lawnmowers. I need to keep the paddocks under control.’
‘That’s what I figured,’ he said, tucking one hand into his pocket casually. ‘In that case these would probably do the job. They’re a smaller build so a bit easier to handle, although I still wouldn’t recommend you try doing much handling alone. I’m happy to lend a hand whenever you need it.’
‘Thank you, although I’m hoping to learn how to do some of it myself.’
‘I can teach you whatever you want to know.’
Hayley’s smile widened. She didn’t know where this sudden love of farming had come from.
‘You want to try to get a mix of different aged heifers. A couple of older ones are good to have in a herd to teach the younger ones how things are done. You don’t want steers.’
‘Why not?’
‘They’re for eating.’
‘Oh right.’ She knew that…
‘Although I guess since you’re only using them for pasture control, it wouldn’t matter if you had a couple, but ideally having a few breeders would be a good idea.’
‘I wasn’t really thinking of breeding them…I guess I’d need a bull for that,’ she said cautiously.
‘Not necessarily. Well, I mean yeah, you need a bull to breed, but you wouldn’t have to buy one. You could lease one for a month or so, or there’s always AI.’
‘Artificial insemination.’
‘Oh.’
‘It’s pretty standard nowadays.’
‘I haven’t thought that far down the track, but good to know,’ she added, suddenly realising there might be a bit more to owning cattle than she’d first assumed. ‘Do you know the people selling them? Ernie said they came from the city.’
‘I know the place. A mate of mine manages it for the owners. I’m happy to go with you and take a look at them if you like.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind, that would be really helpful. Maybe let me know when you’ve got time. There’s no rush.’ She felt a lot better knowing she had someone on her side who knew what they were doing.
Luke opened the back door for her and they walked into the kitchen, the smell of fresh baking wafting through the air. The kitchen was open and roomy and even though it looked like it had every conceivable modern contraption, it still kept its early Australian charm with a brick chimney built around a large old-fashioned oven.
‘Hayley! What a lovely surprise,’ Del smiled as she set a tray of scones on the kitchen bench.
‘I just stopped around to pick your son’s brains about cattle. I didn’t mean to gatecrash your morning tea.’
‘Neighbours don’t need an excuse to drop over for a cuppa. Go on through with Luke to the other room and I’ll bring this in.’
‘I can help,’ she offered, still feeling as though she was intruding.
‘Nope, I have it all under control. Take her inside, Luke,’ his mother said, ushering them out of the kitchen.
Luke’s grandmother sat reading in her armchair and looked up as they walked into the sunny front room. She put aside her book to accept a kiss on her cheek from her grandson.
‘Hello, Hayley, this is a lovely surprise,’ she said, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand.
‘Hello Mrs—’ Hayley started but quickly corrected herself, ‘Pearl.’
‘Mum’s bringing in tea,’ Luke said, taking a seat beside Hayley and stretching out his long legs. Hayley tried not to let herself be distracted by the jean-clad thighs beside her and wished the Masons had decorated their room with larger lounges. These ones made it almost impossible not to feel the warmth of his leg as it touched hers.
‘Is it that time already?’ Pearl asked. ‘My, the day is flying.’
‘It does have a habit of doing that. I often start writing in the morning and get a shock when I realise I’ve missed lunch and it’s almost time for dinner.’
‘Oh, I’d love to be able to write a book,’ Pearl said wistfully. ‘I don’t know how you manage to write that many words, I’d struggle to write more than a few pages.’
‘Some days I don’t know how I’m going to manage to write that many words either,’ she admitted ruefully.
Del and Patrick appeared in the doorway carrying trays, and Hayley was passed her cup and offered a scone as Patrick asked how Abby Cottage was going.
‘I’m thinking about getting some cattle. I came over to ask Luke a few questions.’
‘What are you planning on running?’
Hayley blinked and glanced across at Luke. Running?
‘She’s looking at some mini Galloways. The stud on Fitzsimons’ old place is selling some off.’
‘Ah, yeah, I know the ones,’ Patrick nodded as he bit into a thick scone. ‘Toy cattle.’
They were cute, but even so, something about his attitude irritated her. ‘As long as they eat grass I’ll be happy.’
‘Yeah, they’re fine for hobby farms,’ he granted. ‘Not as many steaks on one of them as you’d get on one of my Herefords though.’
‘Maybe not,’ Luke chimed in casually, ‘but I’ve read there’s a boom in miniature cattle. They’re small enough to fill an average-sized family freezer, whereas a larger beast usually needs to be divided between a few, so these smaller breeds are more economical with less waste.’
Hayley nodded agreeably as she listened but didn’t understand the discussion about carcass weights and meat marbling. She just needed help controlling the grass on her property.
‘How’s the writing going?’ Del asked, putting a halt to the farm talk.
‘It’s at a standstill at the moment. I think maybe the move has played a bit of havoc with my creativity.’ Unless you count the historical novel that seems to have sprung from nowhere, she added silently.
‘Well, that’s understandable. I’m sure things will settle down soon and you’ll get back into the swing of things,’ Del said sympathetically.
‘I haven’t really stopped writing for the last twelve months, so maybe it’s a good thing.’
‘Will this be a new book or part of your series? Olivia’s got me hooked,’ Del admitted.
Hayley smiled. It never got old, hearing people tell her they enjoyed her books. ‘I’m not exactly sure. I thought I’d be writing another Chance Delaware book, but there’s so much history in this area, I think that seems to be influencing this next book.’
‘If history’s what you’re after, you can’t go past Lochmanning,’ Pearl chimed in. ‘Finish your tea and I’ll give you the grand tour. I think you’ll find it fascinating.’
‘Now, this is Wilfred and Henrietta Mason,’ Pearl announced, as professional as any museum tour guide. ‘They came here in 1806 and built Lochmanning.’
The two large frames hung side by side over the staircase in prime position, watching over their domain. The paintings had obviously been commissioned later in life as the couple looked to be rather old. Wilfred seemed to be a stern man, and the artist had caught a cold look in his eyes that put a trickle of ice down her spine. The expression on Henrietta’s face was somewhat severe too, but somehow in the depths of her gaze the painter had managed to show the pain and grief this woman had experienced, along with a quiet pride for all she’d endured. Henrietta, like many women of the era, had undertaken a long voyage from her homeland. Hayley tried to imagine what it would have been like to say goodbye to family knowing you would most likely never see them again, to start a new lineage with a husband in a faraway, relatively uncivilised and isolated new world. Henrietta had not only survived, she’d left a family legacy that was still here today, as strong as ever in the generations that followed her.
Hayley walked on slowly beside Pearl, dutifully nodding as the old woman explained who each person was, the most recent being her late husband. Hayley noted the empty space beside it. ‘That’ll be for my portrait when I’m gone. I’ve already picked it out, but it won’t be hung until I’ve passed,’ Pearl said matter-of-factly, smiling wistfully up at her husband, who looked dashing in his World War Two army uniform.
‘Why’s that?’ Hayley asked curiously.
‘Well, family folklore says it’s bad luck. Two Masons who hung their portraits early both died within a few months of the hanging. So we like to err on the side of caution.’
They made their way further down the hallway and the portraits took on older, sterner appearances, and Hayley had to stop herself from rubbing her arms against a weird chill. Maybe she needed to write a cheery children’s book—clearly writing thrillers was having some kind of detrimental effect on her.
While Pearl talked about a rather humourless looking woman with a huge bun on the top of her head, Hayley’s gaze scooted on to the remaining picture that was tucked away in the darkest corner of the hall. This portrait was a sketch, unlike the others which were oil paintings. When she stepped closer, she was momentarily distracted by the detailed pencil lines that shaped and shaded the face, until her gaze fell on the eyes. Eyes that stared back at her with such unexpected familiarity that she gasped and jerked away. They were the same eyes she’d seen in the vision by the old tree that day.
‘Are you all right, dear?’ Pearl asked.
Hayley turned away from the image to find the old woman watching her intently. She wasn’t sure which gaze unsettled her more—the picture on the wall or the one belonging to Luke’s grandmother.
‘I…Yes. Sorry. I just thought for a moment…’ Her words trailed off as she shot a quick look at the portrait again and felt yet another shockwave as she took in the entire face. This was not possible. It was the man she’d seen holding the woman by the old, dead tree. Hayley felt the room tilt.
‘I think you better sit down, dear, before you fall down,’ Pearl murmured beside her.
Pull yourself together, Stevens.
‘What is it, dear?’
‘I’m sorry, Pearl, I don’t know what’s going on with me. I haven’t really been myself lately.’
Pearl tilted her head like a small inquisitive sparrow. ‘Tell me.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ I’m just losing my mind. Seeing visions, the usual everyday kind of thing. Nothing to be alarmed about.
Pearl seemed to consider her thoughtfully for a few moments before she turned her body slightly to look up at the drawing on the wall. ‘This handsome young man is Edward Mason. He was the youngest son of Wilfred and Henrietta Mason and his was a tragic tale.’
‘What happened?’ Hayley asked hesitantly.
‘He fell in love with the wrong woman,’ Pearl said sadly.
‘Why was she the wrong woman?’
‘She was a convict, dear.’
While Hayley was trying to wrap her head around that piece of information, Pearl continued, lowering her voice slightly, ‘And a murderer.’
It was hard to see this rather dashing young man in the sketch falling for a murderer. ‘What happened? To him?’
‘He was found dead. Shot through the heart. They say it was a lover’s quarrel. The convict woman was found dead beside him.’
Shot. Two people. Hayley didn’t need a mirror to know that her face was probably going an alarming shade of white. She could feel her blood draining away from her head and a cold clamminess settling on her skin. In her vision, a man who’d looked just like Edward Mason had been shot alongside a woman dressed in a simple white shift. ‘Why did they think she did it?’
‘Because she’d killed the man she’d been interned to. They’d found him dead on the property. He’d been stabbed. The cook had witnessed the girl holding the knife and standing over his body. Jane Carney was her name. She ran off and the authorities went looking for her. They say that she went to young Edward demanding that he help her escape, and when he refused, she killed him, and then herself.’
Jane. Hayley’s mind flashed back to the nightmare. That was the name someone had been calling…No way. It was too weird. Then she recalled the strange scene she’d written and felt the hairs on her arm stand up. It couldn’t be. How could she have written a scene so similar to the story Pearl was telling now? Similar, she corrected dully, but not the same. Jane hadn’t killed Edward. Oh my God, what was she saying? She didn’t even know if the people she’d seen that day were Jane and Edward, although she knew it was a pretty feeble attempt to dismiss it. ‘Mears,’ Hayley murmured as she recalled the scene she’d typed.
‘What’s that, dear?’ Pearl asked, eyeing her curiously.
‘The name of the man…Jane—’ she stumbled slightly saying the name aloud, ‘—stabbed. Was it Mears, by any chance?’
‘Yes, it was.’ She seemed surprised. ‘Gilbert Mears was the original owner of your Abby Cottage, not that it was known as that back then, of course.’
She must have read the name somewhere. Maybe it was on the contract or the land title, despite the fact she figured she’d have remembered if she’d seen a list of previous owners going back to the convict era.
‘Help me back to the drawing room, would you, dear?’ Pearl said, cutting into Hayley’s chaotic thoughts.
‘Of course,’ Hayley murmured, realising how long they’d been on the impromptu history tour. She allowed the older woman to lean on her as they retraced their steps back to the large, sunny room. She waited until Pearl was seated in her favourite chair. ‘Can I get you something?’
‘Del will be along shortly with lunch,’ she waved off Hayley’s offer distractedly. ‘Give me your hand.’
Hayley looked at her in surprise but slowly extended her hand. Pearl immediately reached out and took it in hers, turning it face up and tugging it towards her, to peer down intently. ‘Yes,’ she nodded without looking up. ‘It’s just as I thought.’
‘Pearl? What are you doing?’ Del’s exasperated voice interrupted them. ‘Leave the poor girl alone.’
‘It’s right there on her palm,’ Pearl said, looking up at her daughter-in-law with a satisfied smile. ‘Just like I told you.’
‘What is?’ Hayley asked nervously.
‘Your fate line, look, right there, see it?’ Pearl said, holding Hayley’s hand up close to her face.
‘See what? I don’t know what I’m looking for.’
‘Right there, see how that line crosses over the other one? That’s your fate line.’
‘Okay,’ Hayley said slowly.
‘Where it crosses over is where you’ve reconnected.’
Hayley stared blankly at the old woman, unsure whether Pearl was losing her mind or she was. ‘Reconnected…with what?’
‘Not reconnected with what, dear. With whom.’
‘Pearl,’ Del tsked. ‘Don’t worry about it, Hayley. It’s just old wives’ tales.’
‘Old wives’ tales!’ Pearl said, raising her voice with surprising firmness. ‘You tell me when anything I’ve said hasn’t come true.’
Hayley saw Del exchange a meaningful look with her mother-in-law, which Hayley found hard to interpret.
‘All right, let’s have our lunch, shall we?’ Del said briskly, placing the tray of dainty sandwiches on the table in front of them, and Hayley got the feeling she was doing her best to play down the situation.
Pearl let go of Hayley’s hand and eased back in her chair. ‘You’ll remember,’ she said confidently.
Hayley felt a headache coming on. She tried to protest about staying for lunch but Del wouldn’t hear of it, and so Hayley forced down a few of the sandwiches to be polite. If there was one thing she’d figured out it was that you didn’t argue with a Mason woman. When she did finally manage to make an exit, her headache was in full swing and the last thing she needed was to sit in front of a computer screen. There was too much to think about and all of it hurt her pounding head. She took a couple of paracetamol and hoped somehow they would magically make everything suddenly make sense.