Zane was sitting in his lounge room. A large bank of windows looked out upon the rolling paddocks of Cara Downs, but the normally engaging view wasn’t holding his attention today. Mick Turner was leaning against the old sideboard looking at his son.
‘What exactly are you saying, Dad?’
‘That it’s a terrible shame that you never made peace with Bec.’
‘Oh, I’ve tried, but as you can imagine, I’m not her favourite person.’
‘That was a long time ago. You were just a couple of kids back then. Maybe it would be a good time to try and mend the fences between you two.’
Zane rolled his eyes heavenward. ‘Dad, she caught me doing Tanya. Bec’s got every right to be as mad as hell. Besides, it’s too late – it’s been almost four years. Whatever we had, it’s gone and it’s not coming back.’
‘Well, it won’t with that attitude.’
‘She barely acknowledges me. I swear if I spontaneously combusted she’d throw another couple of logs my way. Bec pretty much hates me, and you know that. Why is it so important that she forgives me?’
‘I just thought it might be helpful to us and Cara Downs in the future. You know that you should always keep your options open – you never know when you’re going to need them again.’
Zane studied his father. The old man was side-stepping something. ‘Why would we need Bec? Don’t get me wrong, I want her to forgive me and all. I mean, every time I see her I get this bloody stab of guilt. Maybe I was young and stupid and didn’t love her, but the way she found out about Tanya was pretty scummy.’ He sat forward on the couch and a frown creased his brow. ‘The farm’s doing alright, isn’t it? I know the drought last year hit us hard but it’s holding its own, right?’
Mick looked away. ‘The problem is that before the drought we . . . I overextended. Bought that new tractor, replaced the fences on the top paddock and the shearing shed. Put a lot of money into increasing the size of the mob and then had to sell half of them off at a loss because we didn’t have enough money to buy in the extra feed as the drought wore on.’
‘I knew it was bad but . . . geez, Dad, are we actually going to lose Cara Downs? Is that what you’re telling me?’
For a second Mick couldn’t meet Zane’s eyes. ‘It’s not great, and that’s the truth. I reckon we can ride it out but it’s going to be tight. The insurance payout from the fire will help.’
The concern in Zane’s eyes eased a little. ‘Okay, so we save money wherever we can – that’s doable. I never thought I’d say a fire would be lucky but I suppose it was.’
Mick paused for a moment before he answered. ‘Yes, I suppose it was.’
‘We are going to replace the shed and the rest of the stuff, aren’t we?’
‘Yes, of course we are, but we might hold off on it for a bit. Besides, you never rode that old motorbike anyway.’
‘No, I didn’t. We don’t have to get another one. So, we’ll be alright, you reckon?’
‘If next year is a good year, then we’ll be fine. But if there’s another drought, well . . . I just don’t know.’
‘I guess we work hard and cross our fingers, that’s all we can do.’
‘Not exactly. We could future-proof the farm. Maybe we could think about selling off the old cottage by the creek. I’ve been toying with the idea for a while now. It would get us some funds and it wouldn’t impact the rest of the property too much.’
‘Sell off Grandad’s place?’ Zane said, appalled at the idea.
‘Well, we have to do something. Look, it would cost money to subdivide the land, but it’s got a workable house with all the utilities. We could throw in a few acres and sell it as a farmlet. It’s not an ideal situation but it could save us in the long run. It would give us some money to play with.’
‘I don’t know, Dad – selling it kind of hurts. Is there anything else we can do?’
‘No, unless you marry Bec and get your hands on Bluestone Ridge.’
Zane blew out a breath and fell back against the back of the couch. ‘I keep telling you, that’s not going to happen. She won’t have a bar of me – not that I blame her. Besides, I don’t see how marrying her would improve things. Surely her place would have been hit just as hard as ours.’
Mick shook his head. ‘Nah, you know how canny old Duprey is. I hate to admit it because he’s such a skinflint but this time it’s paid off. Jack Duprey guards his money like a dragon guards its gold. He’s overcautious when it comes to spending. The whole town knows that Bec’s been wanting a new tractor for the last couple of years and let’s face it, she could do with a little hired help to run the place, too. He’s got the money but he hangs on to it. They were touched by the drought just like everyone else around here but did you see him sell off half his mob for less than he paid for it?’
‘Look, even if that’s true, I don’t see how me marrying Bec is going to help – well, not in the short term, anyway. Even if by some miracle we did get back together, do you really think Jack Duprey is going to hand over the entire management of the farm to me? Let’s face it, he won’t give the damn place to Bec, so why on earth would he trust me with it?’
‘He would have to be persuaded to hand over the reins, but he’d do it. Especially if we stressed how important it is to groom the next generation so the property won’t ever be lost.’
‘I still don’t see how that’s going to help our situation right now.’
‘It’s not, but I can hold off the bank for a while. Running Cara Downs is going to be tough for a year or so. We can do it if we pare things back to the essentials and live on the smell of an oily rag. And I’m sorry about Grandad’s place, but I think we’re going to have to sacrifice it. What is vital is that no one, and I mean no one, finds out just how close to the edge we are. If the town gets a sniff that we’re holding on by a thread then they’ll start circling like vultures. Our accounts will be suspended and we’ll lose the whole bloody lot.’
‘But people talk. What do think they’ll say when they find out we’re selling off chunks of our land?’
‘I’ll spread the word that we’re trying to raise funds so we can buy Bluestone Ridge. They’ll accept that – everyone knows I’d do nearly anything to get it.’
Zane frowned. ‘Maybe it would work,’ he said uncertainly. ‘But Dad, look, I’m sorry, but I still don’t quite get it. I don’t see how getting control of Bec’s place is going to help. Cara Downs would still be in trouble, we’d still have debts that had to be paid.’
‘Bluestone Ridge would give us the funds to pay off the debts. It would be easier to secure loans and basically get ourselves out of the shit. Added to that, once the two properties are joined our prospects will be a whole lot rosier. No matter how much I wish it were different, the Dupreys have the oldest and most respected sheep run in the entire district, not to mention the best prize-winning stock. We can trade on their name and the provenance of their brand. Cara Downs comes close, but who wants to be in second place? I want us to be the best bloody sheep run in the state and have as many blue ribbons and awards as Duprey. To do that, I need to keep the farm afloat and hopefully you can romance your way back into Bec’s heart.’
‘Dad, you’ve got to let this one-upmanship with Jack Duprey go. It’s eating at you and there’s absolutely no reason it should. It’s not a race and it’s not like you’ve got anything to prove. Yes, his place is the oldest and most established farm in town, but that doesn’t mean ours isn’t any good. We’ve put years and years of hard work into this place – you, me and Grandad. And that counts for something.’
Mick was silent for a moment. ‘Yes, it counts for something, but he’s got everything.’
‘Geez, Dad – how can you even say that? The poor bastard has been in a wheelchair for the past few years. I hardly think he’s got everything.’
‘You don’t know what it was like growing up with him. It’s been an upward battle against the Dupreys ever since your grandfather scraped together enough money to buy this place. We were seen as upstarts, not like the Dupreys, who were here even before the damn town was settled. Every improvement to the land, wool cheque or even the blasted number of head we run has always been measured against the Dupreys’ achievements. I want to show everyone that we’re just as good as they are. I want to prove to them that Cara Downs isn’t a poor imitation of their place.’
‘Who compares us to the Dupreys?’
‘Everyone in town.’
‘To hell with them. White Gum Creek isn’t happy unless it’s got something to gossip about. I don’t give a damn who talks about us – they don’t matter. The only thing we need to concentrate on is us and the farm.’
‘Easier said than done.’
‘Hey, Cara Downs isn’t anything like Bluestone Ridge,’ Zane said. ‘And that’s because it’s ours – our blood, sweat and tears have gone into this place. You shouldn’t compare it, because they are two very different farms.’
‘Jack Duprey was the bloody golden boy, not just of his family but the whole damn town. He was everything I wasn’t. He was handed a viable working farm with an established flock and name. He just couldn’t do any wrong, plus he ended up with Maggie Sinclaire.’
‘You liked Bec’s mum?’ The news sort of stunned him for a moment.
‘I swear Maggie was the most gorgeous girl in the whole district, she really was. Maggie was beautiful; she looked like Bec does now but a sweeter, softer and prettier version. She had that dark blonde hair and those golden brown eyes, and she’d make my heart race every time she looked at me. But she only ever had eyes for Jack – the lucky bastard.’
‘Dad, I’m sorry that things didn’t pan out the way you wanted, and as much as I’m enjoying this trip down memory lane the whole idea about me and Bec isn’t going to work. Besides, I’m kind of creeped out thinking about you and Maggie Duprey. Bec is never going to trust me again, let alone marry me and hand us Bluestone Ridge on a silver platter.’
‘You’ve got to try. We’re in this for the long term and I need you to see the big picture. One way or another, Cara Downs has to be future-proof and I plan to use all my abilities to make sure that happens. I’m sure as hell not going to be known as the guy who lost the family farm, and I thought you of all people would appreciate that. This is your legacy we’re talking about.’
‘Dad, it just won’t work. She won’t listen to me – she won’t have a bar of me.’
‘Well you’ve got to bloody well change her mind. You could at least bloody try!’
‘Alright!’
‘I’m just thinking of your future. Do you want to be left with nothing?’
‘I said alright, didn’t I? I still reckon Bec will see through me, but what exactly do you want me to do?’
‘Well, getting Bec to forgive you would be the first step – and make sure you stop seeing that little bitch Tanya.’
‘Hey, Tanya’s alright. No need to call her names.’
Mick looked his son in the eyes. ‘Do you love her?’
‘No, not really.’
‘What does that mean?’ Mick eyed his son.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t mind spending time with her. We’ve been on and off for years. I care about her, but . . .’
‘Then finish it. If you loved the girl you would have married her when the engagement ended with Bec.’
‘You know she expects us to get married one day.’
‘It’s not going to happen, though, is it?’
Zane shrugged. ‘No, it’s not. Tanya’s a habit, and one that I can break.’
‘Then do it. It’s partly your fault that we’re in this mess anyway.’
Zane shook his head. ‘Hey, I don’t control the rain, and let’s remember that I’m not the one who overextended.’
‘No, you’re right, that was me. But the farm did so well the year before last, I thought we’d be okay. I didn’t know we were going to suffer a drought for as long as we did. But you’re right, that’s on my head. However, stuffing up the engagement to Bec and letting the one chance we had to get Bluestone Ridge slip through your fingers was on yours.’
***
To celebrate the birthday of his beautiful wife Sally and the fact that it had been seven years since she’d moved to White Gum Creek, Davey decided to throw a dinner in her honour. Bec thought it was a lovely idea but at the back of her mind she wondered if there wasn’t an ulterior motive. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but she had known Sally long enough to know that she was a closet matchmaker. For some reason Sally was under the impression that everyone should be as lucky and as happy as she and Davey were. It was a nice way to look at the world but Bec knew from personal experience that happily ever afters rarely happened. Davey and Sally had lucked out, it was as simple as that.
Bec drove down the main street and made a left turn at the school. The Blackwells’ place was an old weatherboard cottage which sat on a big corner block. The house was sky blue with a darker front door. It was Sally’s favourite colour and Davey had painted it the day after she had accepted his proposal. Grand romantic gestures were few and far between in White Gum Creek, so this one had been noted in the town’s annals. If any other romantic tried to express the depths of his love for his partner, the Blackwells’ house was always held up as the yardstick against which it was measured. So far, no one had topped it.
As there were already a few cars outside the house, she parked on the nature strip. Bec turned off the engine and reached over to the bright wrapped present on the passenger seat. She hoped she was wrong about the matchmaking and that the evening would be fun. Grabbing the present and her bag, she got out of her car and headed towards the front gate. A continuous row of daisy bushes lined the front fence, and off to one side in the middle of the front lawn stood an old cherry tree. Wrapping and curling its way along the verandah was a wisteria. In spring the mauve-blue flowers draped down and offset the colour of the house. Bec might be cynical about love but she had to admit that this was the prettiest house in town. There was a softness and a dreamy sensibility about it that made it stand out from the rest of the town. Perhaps it was a happy accident of architecture and landscaping, or maybe it just reflected the couple who owned it.
Bec’s boots tapped out a beat as she walked up the steps and across the wooden floor of the verandah. The door was partly open and she could hear the sound of laughter coming from within. No point knocking, because no one would hear her anyway. Bec slipped inside and followed the voices to the large room out the back.
‘Hey everyone.’ Bec gave an all-encompassing general wave as she walked through the door.
There was a chorus of greetings and smiles. There was Sally, Tash, Davey’s poker buddies and Matt (of course) – somehow she wasn’t surprised. But then again, she thought, maybe she shouldn’t be so suspicious. She knew that he and Davey had become friends.
Sally gave a squeak as she jumped up from the couch and hurried over to Bec. ‘Yay, you’re finally here – I was beginning to think that you were going to stand us up.’
Bec shook her head. ‘Nah, I just got a bit caught up. You know I wouldn’t miss your birthday.’ She gave Sally a hug before handing her the present. ‘Happy birthday.’
‘Aw, thank you.’ Sally grabbed her hand and gave her a tug. ‘Come on, I’ll get you a drink.’
‘Hi Bec,’ Davey said. He was juggling several pans in and out of the large oven. ‘Dinner in about twenty.’
‘Hi Davey – that’s great, I’m starving,’ Bec said with a grin.
‘Good to hear. Grab a drink – there’s wine, orange juice, beer and some sparkling mineral water.’
‘I’m on it,’ Sally called out.
‘Hey, you shouldn’t be doing anything,’ Davey said.
She looked over her shoulder and gave him a grin. ‘I’m not an invalid, you know – it’s just my birthday.’
Bec helped herself to a mineral water before wandering over and sitting next to Tash.
‘Looks like we’re a bit outnumbered tonight,’ Tash said as she glanced at Bec.
‘Yep, and it appears the numbers have increased.’
‘You mean Matt.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Gary told me that he’s been meeting up with them on a regular basis. Apparently he doesn’t miss a poker night but I did wonder . . .’
‘What?’
‘. . . if our dear Sally wasn’t up to her old tricks,’ Tash said with a laugh. ‘You know how she is – always wants everyone she cares about to be as happy as she is. God, she’s only just stopped trying to meddle in my love life. I had to sit her down and explain that none, and I mean none of the guys in town interested me. Besides, how could I ever be attracted to Gary when he used to pull my hair in kindergarten, and Dean never forgave me for being better than him in . . . well, just about everything.’
Bec grinned at her friend. ‘Ah, but that’s not exactly true.’
‘Damn well is. At school I beat Dean at everything from maths tests and essay writing to soccer. You just can’t come back from that.’
‘No, no – I know that. That’s not what I mean. I meant that you do like someone in the area – Nicholas Langtree.’
‘Ah. Well, that goes without saying,’ Tash said with a sigh. ‘It’s probably hopeless but I’m always up for a challenge.’
‘Hey, maybe it’s too much of a challenge,’ Bec said with a small smile. ‘I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all. Nick has a lot of ghosts to contend with. Perhaps finding someone who hasn’t got all that baggage might be more straightforward – that’s all I’m saying.’
Tash looked at her for a moment before saying slowly, ‘Yeah, but where’s the value in that? As I said, I don’t know if anything will come of it, but I have to at least try. I’m not being self-sacrificing or noble, it’s just that it cuts me up to think of him sitting all alone at his place dwelling on the past. I want him to see that even if it’s not with me, he has a future.’
Bec reached over and gave Tash’s hand a squeeze. ‘Okay, I understand. You were always too soft-hearted for your own good.’
‘Pffft, yeah, right.’
Bec shook her head and bit back a smile. Her friend was a strong, goal-orientated, level-headed woman – that was until you showed her a picture of kittens or, better still, baby pandas, and she dissolved into an oohing aahing mess.
‘Okay everyone, if you want to grab your drinks and head over to the table, dinner is served,’ Davey’s voice boomed over the chatter in the room.
As Bec stood up, Sally materialised by her side. She took her by the hand and guided her to the long farmhouse table which sat in front of a set of French doors leading out into the back garden.
‘Um, you sit here . . . next to Tash,’ Sally said as she pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit down.
Bec frowned. ‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’
‘Oh, I do.’
‘You’re weird, you know that, don’t you,’ Bec said as she moved the chair a little closer to the table.
‘Yep.’ Sally grinned back as she sat opposite her.
Everyone found a seat and the next thing Bec knew, Matt was pulling out the chair next to hers. Bec leaned over the table towards Sally.
‘And you’re not very subtle either.’
Sally put her hand on her chest and gave Bec an innocent look. Bec narrowed her eyes.
‘We’ll talk about this later.’
‘Hi Bec,’ Matt said.
Bec turned her attention from Sally. ‘Hello, it seems we keep running into each other.’
‘Yeah, like literally.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t . . .’
‘I mean when we crashed into each other. You know, in the doorway of the stock feed shop.’
‘Oh yeah, look, I’m sorry about that.’
‘No harm done. So how have you been?’
‘Good, and you?’
‘Good.’ Matt glanced at her and grinned. ‘Wow, that would have to be the shortest and possibly the most awkward conversation ever.’
Bec laughed. ‘Maybe it was. Okay, let’s try and do better. What are you writing?’
‘You’re a brave woman, Ms Duprey.’
‘How so?’
‘Asking a writer about their work in progress can be a dangerous thing. I might waffle on about the plot twists until your eyes glaze over.’
‘I’ll take my chances.’
‘In that case, I’ll give you the short version. I’m working on the third novel of my Alistair Tremayne series. No, that’s not exactly true – I’m trying to work on my new novel. I didn’t write for a long time and it’s been difficult getting started again. Anyway, I’ve got the bare bones of the plot so at least I kind of know where it’s going. It’s a suspense novel and my protagonist, Alistair Tremayne, discovers that someone is obsessed with him and trying to get his attention. There’s an ever-growing pile of bodies and each murder site has a link to the hero. Alistair has to find out who the murderer is before he finds himself accused of the crimes.’
Bec nodded. ‘Okay, so it’s a fast-paced whodunnit?’
‘In a nutshell.’
‘You didn’t tell me the title.’
‘Obsession.’
‘It sounds good. You said that you’ve written a couple of books before this one – I’ll have to give them a go. What are they called?’
‘The first one is Complicity and the second, Paranoia.’
‘Great, I’ll pick them up next time I go to Bendigo.’
‘Thanks . . . but don’t feel compelled . . .’
‘No, I’m not. I like suspense so I’ll give them a try.’
‘So, other than handling your successful sheep run and reading the odd suspense novel, what do you do?’
Bec gave Matt a quick smile. ‘Not much else. I’m afraid Bluestone Ridge keeps me pretty busy.’
‘Nothing else to tell?’
‘No, not really. I’ve lived here all my life, as have my parents and their parents before me. White Gum Creek isn’t exactly a hotspot for adventure and entertainment, but I like it and can’t see myself living anywhere else. Don’t get me wrong, there’re plenty of places I’d like to visit, but I think I’d always end up back here.’
‘So lots of trips and holidays then.’
‘Yeah – not that I’ve been anywhere, but hopefully one day. For now, I’ll have to live vicariously through the books I read.’
‘There are worse things,’ Matt said with a grin, and their eyes locked.
The moment lasted longer than it should have. Bec knew she could have looked away or said something to break the connection but she didn’t. It was as if she were seeing Matt for the first time. It was uncomfortable and she didn’t know why.
‘Well, feel free to borrow any of my books,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ Bec said as she looked down and toyed with her glass. ‘Ahhh . . . listen, I know that when we first met, we got off on sort of the wrong foot. I’m sorry about that.’
‘Nothing to apologise for; you were right, I should never have lit that fire.’
‘Yeah . . . but my delivery was a bit harsh.’
‘Hey, let’s just move on and forget it ever happened.’
Bec smiled and raised her glass. ‘Let’s drink to that!’
***
As Bec drove home she had to admit that even though she’d been dreading being ‘accidentally’ pushed towards Matt, she’d enjoyed the evening. It hadn’t been as awkward as she had imagined, and it turned out that Matt was easy to talk to. Not that she’d ever tell Sally, because her friend would be planning double dates and a wedding before she knew it. No, she wouldn’t say a word, it was safer that way. Besides, nothing had happened and that was a good thing – she’d just had a lovely dinner with friends. Yeah, that was all it was. She and Matt had got off on the wrong foot, but now that was behind them and they could just be friends . . . mates.
As Bec got out of her car she glanced up. The wind was picking up and blowing dark clouds across the night sky. The weather forecast had said that a storm was brewing. Bec hoped so; maybe there’d finally be a decent bit of rain. It was already well into autumn and there had only been a few light showers. They’d been welcome, but what the land needed was some good solid downpours.
As she headed to the back door, she felt a couple of raindrops splatter on her arm and another half-dozen fall onto the dry ground by her feet. Hopefully they’d get a bit more than that, she thought as she slipped into the house.