It was late in the afternoon when Gabe and Roy drove home. The sun was low in the sky, sending sloping shadows across the track.
Gabe usually enjoyed the slowly fading afternoon light, but today he felt as edgy and as moody as the clouds that gathered on the horizon.
Unfortunately the clouds were not likely to drop rain. It was a familiar November pattern for North Queensland – rumbling, grey skies in the afternoons, building, building, but bringing no relief from the sweltering heat.
No relief.
Yeah, that was exactly how he felt. Perhaps restlessness was his new, permanent condition?
Roy, on the other hand, was in fine fettle in the passenger seat beside him. He’d had a great time at Mullinjim, and having downed a stubbie or three, he was ready to yap at length about their outing.
‘Fabulous food, wasn’t it? Best steak I’ve had in a while. Wonderful company. And what about that joke Liz told? What a crack-up.’ Roy nudged Gabe’s elbow. ‘It could’ve happened, mate. I can just see a big, fancy, posh dinner party in London and an Aussie dropping a flaming clanger like that.’
Gabe laughed along with Roy and he let the old fella have free rein as he recounted each detail, already adding his own embellishments. Roy’s story of a simple barbecue would grow grander with each retelling. No harm done. His audience would be small. The poor bugger didn’t have much of a social life.
‘That Bella’s a pretty little thing, game and gutsy on a horse, too, as I recall.’
Gabe was edging the truck over a sandy jump-up as Roy dropped this gem of insight. To his intense embarrassment he missed a gear change and the engine stalled.
Grabbing the handbrake before the truck slid backwards, he slipped the gear into neutral and re-fired the ignition. To his relief, Roy stopped talking as he put the gear in first, eased off the handbrake and accelerated carefully but steadily.
The tyres spun in the sand. Damn.
‘You might have to roll back a bit and take the incline again,’ Roy suggested.
Gabe nodded. This was exactly what he’d planned to do, but he accepted the advice graciously and this time, when he accelerated, the truck edged forward and cleared the top.
‘Interesting,’ Roy mused when they were once again rumbling along a firm track. ‘That girl still gets to you, doesn’t she?’
‘Excuse me?’ Gabe refused to favour his companion with a glance. ‘What the hell are you on about now?’
‘Bella Fairburn, of course.’
‘She doesn’t get to me.’
No way would he admit the truth that he’d very nearly made a fool of himself this afternoon in the kitchen, fighting urges to back Bella against a cupboard and show her exactly how much he’d missed her.
Roy snorted. ‘Blind Freddy can see how the land lies with you two.’
‘For fuck’s sake!’
‘Take it easy, Gabe. I wouldn’t speak up if I wasn’t worried about you.’
‘Well, stop worrying right now, old man. You wouldn’t have a flaming clue.’ Gabe was aware of his passenger’s hurt silence. Too bad. The old ringer had been a bachelor all his life. How the hell did he think he was even remotely qualified to offer comments about females or relationships?
Driving on in silence, Gabe kept an eye on the cattle in the paddocks on either side of the track. They were holding their condition, but only just. He was keeping the molasses and supplements up to them, but if this dry, hot spell went on for much longer, he should probably consider a partial destock.
Ahead lay the wide, sandy riverbed. Stones rattled beneath the truck’s wheels as they crossed it, passing creamy-trunked paperbarks and bottlebrush bushes bent over by the floodwaters of countless wet seasons.
‘The thing is,’ Roy said suddenly as the track evened out again. ‘I’ve known you practically all your life, Gabe. And with your dad passing away and everything . . . well . . . I worry a bit, I guess.’
‘Thanks but I’m okay.’ Gabe said with quiet determination.
‘Yeah, I know you are. It’s just . . . ’ Roy’s thin brown fingers plucked nervously at a frayed hole in the knee of his jeans. ‘I wouldn’t want you to end up like me.’
Gabe smiled. ‘I could do worse.’
Roy shook his head.
‘Why wouldn’t I want to end up like you?’
‘Missing out, like.’
‘Sorry? Missing out?’
‘On a wife.’
The old ringer’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his scrawny neck.
Gabe hoped he didn’t look too surprised, but was old Roy admitting to a lost love? A broken heart? The thought sideswiped him. He had to slow down so he could concentrate.
‘You . . . ’ Gabe cleared his throat. ‘You wanted to marry someone?’
‘Only natural, isn’t it?’
‘I – I guess. Yes, of course it is. What happened? Did you actually propose?’
‘Not outright. Only in my head.’ Roy’s mouth twisted as if he was trying to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. ‘I never said anything to her face. I could never get the words out. But I should’ve. She used to give me the glad eye right enough. I was too damn bashful though. Too gutless.’
‘Jeez.’ Gabe slowed the truck to a standstill as he took this in. ‘That’s rough, mate. So . . . what happened?’
‘She married someone else, didn’t she? Married my best mate and had his four kids.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Gabe tried to remember a younger Roy, but he couldn’t get past the current image of the ageing, balding, wrinkled guy with skinny, freckled bandy legs. ‘How long ago did all this happen?’
‘Thirty, no, near on forty years ago.’ Roy was staring ahead through the windscreen, a picture of dejection. ‘It’s a damn long time to be lonely I can tell you.’
‘Do you ever see her now?’
‘Every time I go to town.’
Hell. Could this get any worse? Roy’s former sweetheart lived in Gidgee Springs? Gabe’s mind raced through the tiny town’s sparse population, hunting for a woman about the right age. ‘Not Noreen? Noreen James?’
Roy’s skinny face flushed. ‘Might be.’
Noreen was a sunny, plump grandmother with snowy curls and a ready smile. She worked part-time in the general store and she’d been married to Kev, a retired stockman who had worked part-time at the pub as a gardener until his death about a year ago.
Roy would be reminded of the woman he’d loved and lost every damn time he left Redman Downs.
And here I’ve been, smugly assuming the poor bugger knew nothing about relationships.
‘I’m sorry,’ Gabe said. ‘I had no idea.’
‘Well, at least you know why I spoke up about Bella.’
Bella again . . .
Gabe’s only response was a shake of his head as he accelerated once again. They were nearly home and a minute or two later he pulled up at the front gate.
Despite his sympathy for Roy, he needed to set the man straight. ‘There’s no need to worry about Bella and me, okay? If I have a problem with her, it’s certainly not shyness.’
Roy was stubborn. ‘Doesn’t matter. A problem’s a problem. And if you don’t get it sorted now, you’ll have the rest of your life to chew over your mistakes. On your own.’
To Gabe’s dismay, the old guy’s warning resonated, sounding a cold, lonely gong deep inside him. He shoved his uneasiness aside. For his sanity’s sake he had to.
‘Bella and I are just friends,’ he said. ‘We’ve known each other all our lives, and yeah, there was a time when we were pretty good friends. Close.’ He shook his head as if somehow the gesture strengthened his resolve. ‘But she has no plans to hang around and I have no plans to propose to her.’
‘More fool you,’ muttered Roy.
Teeth gritted, Gabe opened the door and jumped out, slamming the door behind him. He’d had more than enough of this conversation. Circling the front of the truck, he met Roy as he was clambering down.
‘Look,’ he said, clasping the ringer’s shoulder. ‘You’ve said your piece, okay? I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you and Noreen, but she’s a widow now, so why don’t you take some of your own advice? Go to town and court her?’
A dry, bitter laugh broke from Roy. ‘Yeah, right. As if she’d be interested in this old bag o’ bones.’
Gabe sighed. If he tried to argue he could end up shooting himself in the foot. ‘Look, I appreciate your concern for me, but it’s misplaced, mate. As soon as Peter Fairburn’s back on deck, Bella will be off to Europe again, so you can relax.’
He gave Roy’s shoulder a good-natured squeeze. ‘Give the matchmaking a spell. It’s not your strong suit.’
All in all, it had been a successful day.
Liz gave the last wine glass a polish with a tea towel and stowed it away, then leaned her hips against a cupboard, arms folded, surveying the tidied kitchen with a deep sense of satisfaction.
She enjoyed entertaining, as long as she didn’t have to do too much cooking. In her London circles she was famous for her supper parties and no one minded that she hadn’t cooked the food. She provided very good wine, the finest selections from Harrods’ catering and a great mix of interesting guests and . . . voila!
Here on isolated Mullinjim, she’d felt the beginnings of cabin fever, so today she’d relished having people round. She’d loved the conversations and the humorous exchanges. Cattlemen wanted to talk shop, of course, but no more than musicians did, and today there’d been plenty of talk about people as well as cattle. Locals, family members, celebrity gossip, a few homespun philosophies and the inevitable debates about politics.
It was all very interesting. She’d had her ‘people fix’, and she knew she’d be okay.
She wished she could say the same for Bella, she thought, as her niece came in from her final round of chores, pulled out a chair at the big pine table and flopped onto it.
‘Cuppa?’ Liz asked her.
‘Please.’
While Liz filled the kettle and set it on the gas, she watched Bella out of the corner of her eye. She saw her pensive expression as she sat, examining the end of a long wavy tress of hair.
‘Split ends?’ Liz asked.
Bella looked up, frowning. ‘What?’
‘I was teasing. You looked worried about your hair.’
‘Oh.’ Bella flicked the tawny strand back over her shoulder. ‘It probably needs a good trim, but no, I’m not worried.’
‘Not about your hair perhaps,’ Liz said gently. ‘But possibly about one of our guests?’
Bella closed her eyes. ‘Don’t start please, Liz.’
‘Darling, I only . . . ’
Her niece’s lips were trembling.
The sight shocked and disturbed Liz. She couldn’t stay silent. ‘Bella, I know you and Gabe were up here in the kitchen for quite a long while. I almost sent in a search party. He didn’t upset you, did he?’
‘No.’ Bella drew a deep breath, clearly working hard to pull herself together. ‘He was fine. We – we were just clearing the air.’ She looked up, her green eyes glittering with more than a hint of sarcasm. ‘We’re friends again.’
The kettle came to the boil and Liz turned it off, but she didn’t make the tea. She came and sat opposite Bella. ‘Friends again,’ she repeated. ‘Is that good news?’
‘Of course.’ Now Bella looked annoyed. ‘What a strange question. How could it be anything but good news?’
With a helpless flap of her hands, Liz said, ‘It might be bad news if you were hoping for more than friendship.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Bella snapped. ‘Give it a miss, Liz. Don’t turn this into something it’s not. I’m perfectly happy that Gabe and I are friends again.’
Liz decided that this was not a moment to back down. ‘That’s good to hear, darling, and I might believe you if you looked happy, but I can’t help feeling you’re terribly unhappy.’
Bella glared at her. ‘Well, yes . . . of course I’m unhappy.’
‘Why?’
For a moment her niece looked stubborn and resentful. Her eyes hunted around the room, almost like a sulky teenager, calculating the best answer to appease interfering parents. ‘I’m missing Anton,’ she said.
‘Anton?’ This was a surprise.
‘Yes. Anton Bazile. He is my boyfriend after all.’
It was the first time Bella had mentioned her French boyfriend in ages.
The chair scraped on the wooden floor as Bella stood up abruptly. ‘I miss him terribly and I want to send him an email.’
With that, she hurried away.
Liz called after her, ‘Shall I bring your tea through to the study?’
She didn’t get an answer.