Beneath Outback Skies (8 page)

She looked at the screen. One new message. Anne had contacted her about tomorrow. She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to keep her expression neutral, but she knew she’d been too late.

‘Looks like we’ll all be going on a road trip tomorrow,’ Tait said with a deep chuckle.

Connor turned his chair in the doorway to look into the now empty kitchen. For a brief time the heart of the house had again beat with the sound of his daughter’s laughter. But now the outside darkness pressed against the windows and the echo of Paige’s mirth had long faded.

Despite the constant bantering between Paige and Tait this evening, there’d been an obvious undercurrent of strain. Only today they’d fought together to save Gidget and such a battle should have brought them closer together. But it hadn’t. He’d seen the way Tait stared
out into the night as though he too bore the weight of Banora Downs on his shoulders. He’d witnessed the way Paige bit the inside of her cheek in her old childhood tell. She was uneasy and it wasn’t a worry borne of the pressures of the drought. Nothing had changed. No, this was a new stress that could only be related to Tait.

Connor rubbed at his leg as his conscience shook a fist at him. What was he doing adding to Paige’s already heavy burden? But he’d come too far to abandon his plan to ensure Paige would lead the life he wished for her. He had to have faith in Molly’s belief things would work out. Even in her last days she’d clung to the hope fate would deliver a happy ending. It didn’t. He could only hope that this time Molly’s belief would hold true.

He reached up to pull the cord that hung from the pressed metal ceiling that would switch the kitchen light off. He’d more to worry about than how Paige and Tait were getting along. Tomorrow at Balgarry the whole community would be gathered. Generations of farming families who’d lived through floods, droughts and fires and who held an archive of memories.

Tait believed his secret was safe and that Connor thought he was simply a city boy here on business. But it wasn’t only the strength of Tait’s character that the newspaper photo had revealed to Connor. He’d also seen that the small boy he’d once met had grown into a man capable of righting past wrongs. But would Tait ever have such a chance?

Connor slowly made his way down the hallway. Would anyone see past Tait’s unfamiliar surname?

Would anyone else know who he really was?

Paige adjusted her grasp on the Tupperware containers and paused on the school pathway to check Connor was okay. He and Tait had headed over to a cluster of farmers sitting at a wooden playground table. As Connor approached, the Akubra-wearing men stood. After much back thumping and hand shaking, all returned to their seats. She waited for the group to grin and look at her and when they didn’t she knew Connor’s introduction of Tait as a friend had been accepted. The juicy news of Tait and Paige being an item hadn’t yet reached Balgarry via the Glenalla bush telegraph. But it soon would, whenever Mrs Jessop arrived. Connor wheeled himself close to the table and as Tait sat beside him a farmer passed both men a bottle of beer.

Paige smiled through a swell of emotion. Social contact for Connor, as well as the district’s other men, was so important and never more so than in a drought. An initiative of the drought support worker, who donated bread, meat and a case of beer, the monthly get-together was a vital part of bolstering local mental health. For a brief time families could escape their constant stress and have some old-fashioned fun. Stories could be swapped, frustration vented and support networks created.

Children’s laughter carried from the tennis courts to her right, and the smell of barbequing sausages drifted from within the weather shed. Usually home to the school’s eight students, the shed now teemed with colour as women set up a long trestle table with paper plates, plastic cutlery and red bottles of tomato sauce.

Still smiling, Paige turned and headed towards the school house. Two children ran to her across what had once been a grassy playground but now coated their scuffed boots with dust. They screeched to a halt in front of her, their attention on the containers she carried.

‘Paigy, did you bring those white thingies again?’

‘Yes, Chloe, I sure did.’

The five-year-old giggled and elbowed the taller boy beside her. ‘Told you.’

Sean gave a gummy grin. ‘Shoddy the first one.’

Last get-together he’d lost a front tooth. Paige bent to peer into his mouth. ‘You know, your other front tooth looks wobbly enough to come out too. I wonder if I gave it a little tug …’ She shifted the containers to free her right hand.

Sean’s grin widened as he squealed and the two children dashed away. Chloe stopped, rushed back to loop her hands around Paige’s waist and give her a quick hug, before skipping off again.

Heart light, Paige turned to see Anne approaching. The plait of her long grey hair was secured in its usual neat coil and her customary dark skirt and white blouse were immaculate despite the hour-long car journey from town.

She too looked at the containers Paige held. ‘I don’t think the kids would be the same if you didn’t bring your special meringues.’

‘I know. Their eyes light up whenever I put them on the table. I haven’t the heart to say they’re the cheapest thing I can make in large quantities as they only need egg whites and sugar.’

Anne reached into her handbag and pulled out a plastic tube filled with small, edible silver balls. ‘And one of these on top.’ She slipped the tube into Paige’s shoulder bag. ‘There you go. I saw them on sale and thought you could do with some more as you must be getting low.’

‘Thanks. I am running out but I’ll give you the money for them. How much were they?’

Anne took the top Tupperware out of Paige’s arms. ‘No idea. I’ll check my receipt when I get home.’

Paige examined Anne’s expressionless face. Why did she get the feeling Anne wouldn’t be telling her the amount any time soon.

A burst of laughter caused them both to look across to the table of seated men. Tait was holding court and, going by the volume of his companions’ merriment, he’d well and truly settled in.

‘You father looks well.’

Anne must be feeling the heat, for her pale cheeks appeared flushed with colour.

‘Yes, he does, thanks to Tait’s mutual appreciation of all things four-wheeled. If they’re not debating the merits of the latest supercar, then they’re tinkering in the shed on Dad’s old wrecks.’

The group of men laughed again at something Tait said. Paige swung away. Tait’s fan club may already sport more members than the Balgarry one-teacher school held pupils, but she wasn’t about to become a member.

In the cool of the school house, Paige helped Anne organize the donated gifts into groups according to their labels. Soon they had boxes full of soft, squishy items for younger girls, more boxes of what appeared to be soccer or basketball balls for older boys. Then two more
piles for younger boys and older girls.

‘Bush solidarity is a wonderful thing,’ Paige said as she placed the last brightly wrapped present into the appropriate pile. ‘To think people who live hours away, people we don’t even know, were generous enough to collect these toys and send them up for the local kids.’

Anne nodded from over at the window. ‘Speaking of doing things for the kids, have you seen where Tait is?’

‘No. Where?’

Paige joined her beside the window overlooking the tennis court. Akubra on, Tait had a child’s racquet in his hand, hitting balls over the sagging net towards five children. Only Sean managed to hit the ball back, the other four girls were too busy laughing or pirouetting like ballerinas. Once out of balls, Tait leaped over the net to chase the shrieking kids, before collecting the scattered balls. The children raced to the other side of the net and waited for him to again shoot the balls toward them.

Paige turned away from the window. She ignored the warmth filling her chest. It was nothing to her if Tait appeared to enjoy the company of children. He’d said he wasn’t a man who avoided commitment and wasn’t averse to settling down. It was just that the timing wasn’t right for Bronte and her daughter. Paige picked up the list of Balgarry school students. Chris had fed her the same line. The timing wasn’t right. For smooth-talkers like Chris and Tait, the timing would never be right. Tait admitted he was a workaholic and as for Chris, well, she realised now he’d been fixated on just one thing. Himself.

She jumped as her phone chimed in the pocket of her best jeans. She placed the student list on the closest desk and dragged out the mobile. Tait had sent her a text. She held it out for Anne to see. The older woman read it with a smile.

Call me. About to melt in heat.

Anne laughed. ‘Poor Tait.’

Paige glanced out the window to where the tennis game had been abandoned and Tait now had Sean on his back and a grinning girl attached to each leg. She smiled instead of dialling. Tait was certainly giving the children a day to remember.

‘Paige,’ Anne said, ‘please put the poor man out of his misery and rescue him. He’ll soon have four little girls hanging off his legs.’

‘Do I have to? It’s been so peaceful having him off socialising.’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay.’ She called his number as she walked back to the window. It took five rings until Tait untangled himself from the kids and could retrieve his phone.

‘Melted yet?’ she asked by way of greeting.

His husky chuckle made her stomach flip. ‘Another five seconds and I’ll be impersonating a snowman.’

She held the phone a little further away from her. The deep timbre of Tait’s voice concentrated in her ear lifted the sensitive hairs upon her neck.

She saw Tait place his mobile against his chest and talk to the children. They all nodded. No doubt he was telling them he couldn’t play any more as Paige needed him.

He again spoke into his mobile. ‘Where are you?’

‘School room. Look up at the window.’

He did as instructed. Even with distance and glass between them, his high-wattage smile gleamed bright. He raised a hand and waved before walking towards the gate of the tennis courts. The kids trailed behind him.

‘I think you’re more like the Pied Piper than a snowman,’ she said before she hung up.

If he’d ever needed an example of the resilience of the outback spirit, Tait only had to look at the people eating their lunch around him. Smiles flashed, conversations flowed, but every so often weary gazes would lift to the sky as if by sheer willpower they could make it rain. On the surface it was all sausage sandwiches and cold beers but underneath ran a current of desperation. People were hurting and a get-together such as this provided a brief chance to unwind. He looked at the woman beside him. Even for hard-to-sit-still Paige.

A little girl with long brown pigtails sat on her lap talking about her pony called Moppet who liked apples. Paige listened and nodded, a dreamy expression on her face. Across from Paige, Anne and Connor sat next to each other with the ease of familiarity. Tait eyed off the gap that had opened between him and Paige. As lunch had progressed she’d slid her way to the end of the bench seat. He could now park a brumby ute between them.

He studied the people gathered closest to him. He hadn’t thought it possible to ever see a more battered hat than Paige’s but there were at least four that were as weather-beaten. Just as well yesterday by the dam his new Akubra got covered in mud. It would have stood out as much as his luxury car, which was currently parked among the assortment of farm vehicles.

He shifted on the bench at the realisation he was growing tired of being different. He’d always operated as a separate entity, by necessity as well as by choice. Strong-willed, he hadn’t always fitted in at school or boyhood organisations, such as Scouts. And now as CEO of AgriViz he was too busy to try to belong anywhere – Paige laughed and he looked across at her – or to anyone.

High heels clacked on the concrete path before the school gate squeaked and announced a woman’s late arrival. A figure in a white dress and wearing an oversized straw hat, complete with a large yellow flower, powered down the path. Paige’s swift intake of breath informed him who the late-comer was even before he recognised her from the grocery store. She was the person Paige had gone out of her way to avoid.

As the woman neared the group, she scanned the crowd from beneath the brim of her hat. When she saw Tait her red lips rounded and stretched into a wide smile. She headed straight for him.

‘Hello, you must be Tait,’ she said, offering her hand. ‘I’m Myra. Myra Jessop.’

He stood, shook her hand and then ignoring Paige’s subtle shake of her head, indicated the space on the bench. ‘Would you like to join us?’

‘I’d love to but can only sit for a minute.’ She nodded towards Connor and Anne, who smiled and then continued talking. ‘I’ve been flat out and would kill for a cuppa.’

Tait seated himself in the middle of the bench next to Paige, allowing Mrs Jessop room to sit on the end of the seat. Paige edged away and threw him a dark look.

Mrs Jessop placed her armful of bags and folders onto the table and settled herself on the bench. ‘So, young man, how are you liking being out here?’

‘It’s been great, so far.’

Mrs Jessop’s gaze darted to Paige as if Tait hadn’t spoken. ‘I was so pleased to see the two of you together in town the other day. It’s been a while since Paige has shown interest in a boy.’

He bit back a smile. It’d also been a while since he’d been called a boy.

‘I keep telling her she isn’t getting any younger, you know,’ Mrs Jessop continued.

This time he couldn’t hide the smile that morphed into a chuckle. Paige kicked his calf beneath the table.

‘That’s good advice.’ He risked a glance at Paige’s flushed face. ‘I keep telling her to stop losing her keys.’

Again Paige’s boot walloped his leg.

‘Oh, how precious. I had no idea you were so absent-minded, Paige.’ Mrs Jessop’s laughter tinkled. ‘So tell me, you two, how did you meet? After all, Paige, you never get out
of your jeans, let alone get away from Banora Downs.’

Beside him, he felt Paige stiffen. He put his arm around her and pulled her resistant body close.

‘We met …’ he winked at Mrs Jessop, ‘… on an internet dating site.’

He fought to keep a straight face as Paige’s hand slammed onto his thigh and her nails dug in through the denim of his jeans.

‘An internet dating site … how wonderful!’ Mrs Jessop had a voice that would out-do a PA system. Conversations stalled as people sneaked glances at them. A frown indented Connor’s forehead as he looked at them.

‘Yes, I couldn’t resist Paige’s website profile. She sounded so … sweet.’

Paige’s nails dug deeper into his leg.

But Mrs Jessop appeared unconcerned Paige’s lips were pressed into an uncommunicative line. The local source of information had gathered the answers she’d been searching for and now was after her cup of tea.

‘Just make sure,’ she said as she collected her bags and folders, ‘that when Paige comes to the ball next weekend she at least wears proper shoes. Last Damn-the-Drought Ball she wore boots. Such a waste of a pretty dress.’

‘Ball? You didn’t tell me there was a ball on, honey,’ he said, expression innocent as he turned to Paige.

‘Well, there mightn’t be,’ Mrs Jessop said as she stood, her eagle-eyed glance dropping to where Paige’s fingers remained clamped on his thigh. Paige snatched her hand away and leaned forward to escape his hold.

Mrs Jessop moved to the next table, swooped up an empty beer bottle and tapped it with her keys.

‘Attention, everyone.’

Tait lowered his arm and braced himself. Without the safety of Mrs Jessop’s presence, Paige’s retribution would be swift and furious.

He didn’t have to wait long. She turned to him. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’ she said in a harsh whisper.

‘Paige, please,’ said Mrs Jessop, ‘talking to your boyfriend can wait, I have an important announcement to make.’

Paige’s nostrils flared but as her father reached over and patted her arm the rigid line of her shoulders lowered. Tait wasn’t fooled. The angle of her chin warned him she was far from finished with ‘her boyfriend’.

How could he? How could Tait make such a spectacle of them both?

Paige gripped the edge of the wooden bench so hard she was sure a woodgrain pattern would be permanently imprinted on her fingertips. Just wait until Mrs Jessop had finished speaking. Tait would know exactly how not-so-sweet she could be. Her father’s worried gaze caught hers.