Matilda's Last Waltz Part 24

Matilda saw the excitement light his eyes and knew his words meant nothing. He was fired up by the thought. He could hardly wait for call up. She looked across at April and knew she'd seen that look in his eyes too, for her pallor was more p.r.o.nounced than ever, her hands for once still in her lap.

Matilda bit her lip and came to a decision. She had vowed to return his kindness perhaps now was the time to fulfil that promise.

'If you do go, Tom, then I'll look after Wilga. The sheep can be mustered together and I can use your sheds for the shearing. Hopefully some of the men will stay to work the land, but we'll manage somehow until you get back.'

April burst into tears and as Tom went to comfort her. Matilda left the room and wandered out on to the verandah and into the pasture. They needed to be alone and she needed s.p.a.ce and time to think.

She stood by the home paddock and watched the horses for a moment, then looked up at the sky. It seemed endlessly wide, almost encompa.s.sing this small patch of earth in its star-studded embrace. Hard to believe the same sky looked down on war-torn Europe. Men would fight and die. Land would be left to women, and boys too young to know what they were doing. Or to old men who no longer had the strength to fight nature's onslaughts. For the first time in many years she was glad not to be a man. Glad she wouldn't be forced to leave Churinga for a foreign killing ground.

She s.h.i.+vered. She would do her best for April and the boys, but she still had memories of how it had been for her mother during the Great War. And G.o.d help them all if that should really happen all over again.

Chapter Fourteen.

The light was gone for the day. Jenny had stacked the finished canvases against the wall and was cleaning her brushes when she heard Ripper barking. She turned at the sound of footsteps on the verandah and felt a jolt of pleasurable surprise to see Brett standing in the doorway.

'h.e.l.lo.' There was something wrong with her voice, it was too high, almost breathless. She cleared her throat and smiled. 'You're back early.'

He grinned as he took off his hat and mopped his brow. 'I see you've been busy,' he said, nodding towards the stacked canvases. He gave a long, low whistle. 'Strewth! You must work quick.'

Jenny turned her attention to the paintings. She was fl.u.s.tered by his unexpected appearance and needed a moment to escape those grey eyes and gather her wits. Whatever's the matter with me? she thought. I'm as twitchy as a schoolgirl.

'What do you think of my efforts?' she said finally as Brett stood beside her and examined the dozen landscapes.

He rammed his hands in his pockets and looked thoughtful. 'I don't know much about this sort of thing, but you've certainly got the feel of the place.' He pulled out one of the canvases and set it on the easel. 'I especially like this,' he murmured.

Jenny relaxed, her smile warm as she looked at the pastoral scene of sheep and drovers. 'I rode out with the drovers for that one. The light was extraordinary, and I wanted to capture the essence of what Churinga is all about.'

He looked at her and nodded. 'Reckon you did that all right. I can almost smell the sheep.'

She glanced back at him, wondering if he was teasing her, but his expression was merely thoughtful, his attention still on the painting before him. She turned and kept her hands busy tidying brushes and sc.r.a.ping paint from the palette. She didn't know what to say to this tall, quiet man who stood so close to her she could almost feel his body heat. His absence over the past few weeks had made her realise he was a part of Churinga that really mattered to her and her conflicting loyalties and emotions waged a silent, inner battle.

'Have a good holiday?' she finally asked when there was nothing left to tidy up and the silence had grown awkward.

'Brother John's crook and needs to go to hospital, or at least have a break from the cane. But he's a stubborn b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and there was nothing I could do to persuade him to give up and find something better to do with his life. The journey was wasted really, but it was nice to see Gil afterwards.'

'Fancy a beer and a sandwich?' She heard her own clipped tones and wondered again why she couldn't have a decent conversation with this man without her throat closing up. She took the makes.h.i.+ft supper out on to the verandah. She needed air.

Brett strolled out after her and leaned against the railings as he watched her set the table. 'It's ANZAC day tomorrow and the picnic races. Thought you might like to come along.'

This was safe ground, and his tone was almost impersonal, so perhaps she hadn't made too much of a fool of herself. 'Too right. It's over at Kurrajong, isn't it? I've been listening in on the two-way and it seems to be the only topic of conversation.'

He nodded. 'It's the biggest place around so it got to be the custom over the years. The s.h.i.+ndig goes on for three days so be prepared to stay over.'

Jenny tried to hide the excitement in her eyes as she bit into a sandwich. The opportunity to meet and talk to the Squires family was too good to miss. 'Where will we stay? In one of the bungalows?'

'As the new owner of Churinga, I expect they'll put you up at the big house.' He glanced at her over the beer. 'It'll be quite something to have you as a guest, you know. The radio's been buzzing with speculation ever since you arrived.'

'I know,' she said with a giggle. 'I listened in.' She munched on her sandwich. 'Hope I come up to their expectations. I'm not used to such notoriety.'

He grinned. 'You have to do something bad to get notorious, Jenny. And I don't think there's much danger of that.'

She drank her beer in silence, thinking of Ethan Squires and his sons. Perhaps the old man could be persuaded to fill in some of the gaps Matilda had left in her diaries and it would be interesting to find out why Charlie had dropped her so abruptly.

'So what happens exactly?'

'We have a memorial service in Wallaby Flats, then it's back to Kurrajong for the races. The elimination rounds are first just about every man in New South Wales is hoping to make the final which is on the third day. There are several picnics, of course, and fireworks and fun fair. Then, on the last night, Kurrajong lays on a dance.'

'Sounds like fun.'

Brett's smile was slow, the warmth of it clear in his eyes. 'It is. The women love it just as much as the men because it gives them a change to dress up and gossip.'

'When do we leave?'

'Very early tomorrow morning. I've got a string of horses to take so you'd better drive the ute.' He eyed the pup that had fallen asleep under Jenny's chair. 'Ripper will have to stay here. The dogs at Kurrajong would have him for tucker.'

Ripper seemed to understand he was being discussed and came wriggling across the floor to have his tummy tickled. 'Whoa there, mate. I already washed.'

Brett's laughter was soft as he played with the eager little animal, and when he looked up at Jenny, she felt a tug of something akin to longing. She quickly looked away and took a long drink of tepid beer. Solitude was making her imagination work overtime. He was just being friendly nothing more and she was in danger of making a complete idiot of herself by thinking otherwise.

The sun was melting into the earth, casting an ephemeral veil of pink and orange over everything as they finished their supper. Jenny looked at her watch and yawned. 'Better call it a day if we have to be up so early,' she said casually. She didn't want to go to sleep would have preferred to sit out here with Brett and watch the Southern Cross grow bright.

He looked at her as they both stood up. His eyes were fathomless, his expression enigmatic. There was a long silence in which she felt she was being drawn towards him, but the spell was broken when he jammed on his hat and turned away.

'Five o'clock tomorrow, then. G'night, Jen.'

She watched him amble across the clearing, his flat-heeled boots scuffing the dust, his easy, loping stride that of a man who'd spent many hours in the saddle. She smiled and wondered if he could dance, blushed at the thought of those strong hands holding her close, then snorted in disgust and went into the house. Who am I kidding? she thought. I'm his boss and he's Lorraine's boyfriend. And, she decided firmly, he probably can't dance anyway.

Yet excitement began to bubble within her. It had been a long time since she'd socialised there'd seemed little point after Peter died, and friends weren't quite so keen on single women at dinner parties and dances. She thought of the boisterous dances she'd gone to when she was a teenager. It would be fun to dress up and be whirled across the floor until she was breathless.

Her daydream came to a grinding halt as she realised she had nothing to wear apart from jeans, s.h.i.+rts and shorts. 'I can't go,' she muttered to Ripper. 'Not when I know all the other women will be dressed up to within an inch of their lives.'

He yapped, then began an energetic search for a flea.

Jenny watched without seeing. An idea had formed but it seemed so outrageous she pushed it away. And yet. And yet ... It might be possible. If she had the nerve.

She went into the bedroom and opened the wardrobe door. The soft perfume of lavender wafted into the room. It was a scent of bygone years, lingering like a memory. The ghostly refrain began to echo in the empty house and as she reached for the sea green dress it was as if Matilda had come into the room and was encouraging her to try it on again. As if she and her mysterious partner were willing Jenny to waltz with them.

The music was mesmerising as she shucked off her clothes and stepped into the swirl of silk and chiffon, and as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she thought she saw a glimpse of wild red hair and heard the soft laughter of another woman.

She closed her eyes and when she opened them again was almost disappointed to find she was alone.

Eyeing herself critically, she turned and twisted before the mirror, letting the lights from the lamps s.h.i.+mmer and dance in the silken folds. The ocean green was shot with violet a perfect foil for her eyes and the chestnut lights in her hair. The bodice was boned and tight to the waist, with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves. It was a little short but that didn't matter. The mini skirt was all the rage in Sydney and Jenny knew she had good legs.

But as she stood there listening to the ghostly music, she realised the dress was hopelessly old-fas.h.i.+oned. She felt reluctant to tamper with something so beautiful something that had obviously once meant so much to Matilda.

There was a soft sigh, and as if a warm breeze had come into the room, she felt the lightest caress on her arms. She was not afraid for Matilda was no stranger. This was merely a signal for her to do what she thought best. An acknowledgement that time had moved on and Matilda wanted her special dress to be worn again.

'Thanks,' Jenny whispered. 'I'll take good care of it, I promise.'

She slipped out of the dress and laid it on the bed. She would need shoes. Then she remembered the pair she'd found in the bottom of the trunk that were obviously meant to match. Digging them out of the wardrobe, she sighed with disappointment. They were just too small and with the extra toe on her right foot, no amount of pus.h.i.+ng and shoving would get her into them. She would have to wear the low-heeled sandals she'd packed at the last minute. They were quite smart, and as they were the nearest thing to a dancing shoe they would have to do.

Taking the dress into the kitchen, she carefully unpicked the fabric roses at the waist and shoulder. Then, after a long moment's hesitation, she began to cut. When she put down her needle and thread two hours later, she had a strapless evening dress that could rival the most expensive in Sydney.

As she held it up against herself and eyed her reflection in the mirror, she realised there was just one more thing to do and the outfit would be perfect. Minutes later she tied the green ribbon of silk round her neck. The roses were now dusted with gold paint, st.i.tched firmly to the choker and settled between the curve of her neck and shoulder.

Jenny stared at her reflection, amazed at the transformation. Then she giggled. 'Well, Cinderella. You really are going to the ball. And how!'

Jenny was awake and on the move before the sun came up. She had showered and washed her hair, and was dressed in cotton strides and a broderie anglaise s.h.i.+rt as she painted her nails. Her jewellery was necessarily spa.r.s.e just silver hoops in her ears and the locket Peter had given her and which she never travelled without. She eyed her reflection critically and with a faint nervousness. It had been years since she'd been to a country party and she wasn't at all sure she was fully prepared but it was too late now. It would have to do.

Ripper had trailed her mournfully as she packed her rucksack and tidied the bedroom. Following her out to the utility, he sat hopefully at her feet as she draped the cloth-covered dress over the pa.s.senger seat. He knew something was happening and suspected he wasn't going to be a part of it.

She picked him up for a last cuddle. He would be going back to the kennels for the weekend and she would miss him. Yet she couldn't resist the sorrowful brown eyes that looked so appealingly up at her and after a moment's hesitation gave in.

'Come on then, you little bludger. Get in while no one's looking.' She tipped him into the utility and pointed at him sternly. 'But I'm warning you: one bark and I leave you behind.'

Ripper's tail wagged the rest of him but he seemed to understand the order of silence. Jenny climbed in after him and switched on the engine. She'd seen Brett on the other side of the yard, a string of horses milling around him from leading reins.

'Get on the floor, Ripper,' she murmured. 'We'll both be in trouble if he catches you.'

The calvacade of horses and utilities was waved off by the two men who would stay on Churinga. As Jenny joined it through the first gate she realised it wouldn't be easy going. The route to Kurrajong was littered with potholes and the dust from the other vehicles was already billowing in a great cloud that stuck to her perspiring skin and made her feel uncomfortable. It had been a mistake to set out in clean clothes.

For five hours she ate their dust and watched the men in the flatbed of the utility in front. They were getting more boisterous by the mile. The beer was already flowing and judging by the erratic movement of all three vehicles the drivers were getting their fair share.

The main entrance leading to Kurrajong was a pair of freshly painted wrought-iron gates beneath an archway that had the evergreen emblem at its zenith. It was an imposing introduction that was nothing compared to her first sight of the house.

The colonial verandah and balcony against the warm honey of the bricks, the pillars intertwined with bougainvillaea and frangipani, gave it style and beauty. Its lush gardens and quiet grandeur whispered of wealth and power and confidence in its own importance. It was as Matilda had described and for a moment Jenny experienced the same unease. Then she remembered Matilda's spirited defence of her own place in this vast land and knew she had nothing to feel uneasy about. What had happened was in the past. This was a new era a time for things to settle down a chance for the people of Churinga and Kurrajong to make peace.

'Impressed?' Brett leaned down from his horse.

'Probably not as much as I'm expected to be,' laughed Jenny. 'But it is spectacular.'

'You go on up to the house. I've got to see to the horses.'

'Aren't you coming too?' The thought of facing all those strangers on her own was quite daunting.

He shook his head and grinned. 'I'm just a hired hand. It's the bungalow for me. I'll catch up with you later.' He caught sight of Ripper who'd squirmed out of his hiding place at the sound of Brett's voice. 'I thought I told you to leave him behind?'

Jenny pulled the puppy on to her lap. 'He'll be right. He can sleep in the ute. I couldn't bear to leave him behind.'

Brett snorted. 'Women,' he muttered before leading the horses towards the paddock.

There was no time for any retort. Andrew Squires was coming down the wide steps of the verandah to greet her. He was handsome, Jenny acknowledged, and supremely confident. But he was a liar and a cheat, and she wasn't looking forward to his company.

His smile was bright, his handshake warm and firm. 'Good morning, Mrs Sanders. Such a pleasure to meet you again.'

Jenny smiled back. She was hot, dirty and in need of a drink and his perfection annoyed her. How could anyone remain so clean in all this dust? 'You have a lovely place here,' she said politely.

'I'm glad you like it,' he said, collecting her bags and dress from the utility. 'You must let me show you around sometime.' His blue eyes held hers for a moment then s.h.i.+fted back to the utility as Ripper emerged from his hiding place. 'h.e.l.lo. We seem to have a stowaway.'

The tension broke and Jenny laughed. 'He insisted upon coming. But he can sleep in here and I promise he won't get in the way.'

Ripper wagged his tail hopefully as Andrew patted his head. 'No worries. So long as he's house-trained, he's welcome.'

Jenny felt a s.h.i.+ft in her opinion of Andrew. He couldn't be all bad if he liked Ripper. Perhaps this wasn't going to be as daunting as she'd first thought. She followed him up the steps and through the elegant front door into the hall.

It was as though she'd stepped into another world. The floors were covered in Persian rugs, the walls adorned with gilt-framed pictures and mirrors. There were flowers in crystal vases on the highly polished tables and antique porcelain jostled for position amongst silver trophies. She stood beneath the magnificent chandelier, her innate sense of beauty piqued by the way its crystal droplets splashed rainbows on the walls and ceiling.

'My grandfather brought that back from his grand tour of Venice many years ago. It's something of an heirloom,' said Andrew proudly.

'I wouldn't like the job of cleaning it,' Jenny replied dismissively.

'We have servants to do that,' Andrew replied shortly. 'Come, I'll take you up to your room.'

'Don't you have servants to do that as well?' Her tone was mildly sarcastic, the bite of her words veiled in a smile.

He looked at her solemnly. 'Yes, we do. But as this is your first visit to Kurrajong, I thought you would appreciate a more personal introduction.'

Jenny looked away, ashamed of her own waspishness, and followed him up the sweeping staircase.

'A maid will unpack for you,' said Andrew as he put her bag and dress on the bed. The bathroom is in there. When you're ready, come down to the drawing room and meet the rest of the family and the other guests. I don't need to tell you they're curious about the new owner of Churinga.'

His smile was warm and enhanced his good looks if she hadn't witnessed his other side, she might have been fooled into thinking he would make pleasant company. She thanked him and waited for him to leave the room before bending down and stroking Ripper. 'Bit different from what we're used to, eh, boy?'

Jenny eyed the cream brocade at the window and around the four-poster bed. A thick pale carpet was spread over the polished floor, a perfect foil for the rich l.u.s.tre of the Victorian furniture. She crossed the room to the dressing table and examined the row of crystal perfume bottles and the tiny rosebud soaps that had been left in a Wedgwood bowl. Balmain, Chanel, Dior. Her hosts liked to display their generosity, but she couldn't help wondering if there was a hidden agenda behind this sumptuous welcome.

The thought of Churinga with its rough floors and simple furnis.h.i.+ngs made all this grandeur seem overblown and for the first time Jenny felt homesick for that lovely familiar place. For home was what it had become, she realised with a jolt. The house in Sydney seemed light years away. She yearned to be back amongst the rustic simplicity of her inheritance.

A discreet tap on the door interrupted her thoughts and Jenny turned to find herself being scrutinised by soulful black eyes. The girl was dark-skinned and wore a blue and white cotton dress beneath the starched ap.r.o.n. Her feet were bare, her smile friendly.

'I alonga you, missus. Unpack bags, eh?'

Jenny smiled. 'I'll do it later.'

The girl's smile vanished and she shuffled her broad feet as she looked at Jenny through her lashes. 'Boss tell me, eh?'

Jenny saw her discomfort and gave in. There was no point in trying to buck the system but getting a maid to unpack a rucksack was taking things a bit far.

She bustled around putting underwear in drawers and hanging up the dress then pointed to Jenny's travel-stained clothes. 'Wash good, eh?'

Jenny grimaced. 'No time. I'm expected downstairs soon.'