FOLLOW THE MORNING STAR (36 page)

‘Dear old Snowy, he is getting on,’ sighed Queenie.

‘And there’s more news,’ added Millie, making the inevitable pot of tea.

‘What, about the children?’

‘Yes, well. Now, Queenie luv . . . about Sas. Mebbe it’s not my place . . . but,’

‘She’s all right isn’t she?’ cut in Queenie with a worried look. She didn’t like the tone of Millie’s voice.

‘Oh yes, she’s never been better,’ said Millie. ‘She just quit university.’

‘What!’

‘Steady on, luv. She’s taken a year off, got a job — workin’ with horses — and is as happy as a sandboy.’

‘What’s going on, Millie? Where is she working? Who set all this up?’

Millie paused and then uttered the one word she knew would dismay Queenie. ‘Colin.’

‘What do you mean, Millie? How?’ Queenie was stunned and momentarily confused.

‘He’s back, luv. The family are living over at the Gold Coast. He’s running some resort. He gave Saskia a job running the horses. You know, tourist ride things.’

Over the years Queenie had tried to come to terms with the misery and heartache Colin had caused her and TR. She had tried on several occasions to make her peace with her brother but each time she had been spurned — the bitterness and anger he felt towards her ran too deep. Queenie felt saddened by the severed link, but while she had tried to forgive Colin, she could never forget. Nor would she ever trust him again. She knew he still harboured a grudge against her for what he saw as her scheming to gain possession of Tingulla and Cricklewood.

From snippets she’d heard over the years since he and Dina had been in Europe, she realised he’d squandered the substantial fortune their father had left him in stocks and prime Sydney real estate. But Colin would never admit that he had been foolish with his money — all his life his problems had been caused by someone else. He’d blamed Queenie for the major catastrophes that had befallen him, and Queenie didn’t doubt he now placed blame for any present difficulties at Dina’s feet.

At Millie’s news a mixture of emotions spun through Queenie’s head, and the strongest of all was fear — fear that Colin had returned to threaten her in some way.

‘Colin! I turn my back for a minute and he gets in the door making trouble. Well, I’ll put a stop to this quick smart.’

Millie pushed the teacup in front of Queenie. ‘Now just wait a minute, luv. Sas is lovin’ this job. And it does sound good. She’s bin dying to tell you all about it, but she didn’t want to tell you over the phone. Now, drink your tea. Piece of cake?’

‘I don’t trust Colin. What does Tango think?’

‘When we couldn’t stop her quittin’ he offered her a job at Guneda, but she wanted to do her own thing.’

Queenie bit into the slice of fruitcake and didn’t answer. She could understand how Saskia felt. While it was a shock to discover she’d gone against her wishes and dropped out of university, she recognised Saskia was expressing her independence. At least she had a job, doing something she liked by the sound of it. She felt a pang of hurt that it was Colin who’d given her the opportunity. She wouldn’t have minded if it had been anyone else in the world.

‘Well, I suppose it’s better than working as a cocktail waitress in some Gold Coast disco. I’d better phone her. What is this place?’

‘Harmony Hill. You go have your bath first and relax. She ain’t rushin’ off anywhere.’

Queenie put down her cup and stretched. ‘A bath sounds wonderful, I’ve been driving and riding for days. I also had a bit of a nasty time of it, Millie . . . the blokes that had the bulls . . . ah, never mind.’ Queenie suddenly felt like crying and wished she could go to TR and pour out the nightmare of that drunken man falling on her. She turned away, mumbling in a tired voice, ‘Thanks for the tea, Millie. And everything else . . . ’

‘There is some good news,’ called Millie after her. Smiling broadly she added, ‘Ernie and Ruthie’s got engaged’.

‘That’s lovely. That is good news.’ Queenie managed a smile. ‘I guess it isn’t any surprise when you think about it — they’ve been such pals for so many years. I’m very happy for both of them. I think they’ll be a good match, don’t you, Millie?’

‘I do. It’s very sensible.’ Millie’s expression softened. ‘And they’re right fond of each other.’

‘I’ll talk to her after my bath.’

Queenie headed upstairs to the master bedroom she once shared with TR. It was just as she’d left it. No sign that he had been in it. Of course — the stairs — he wouldn’t be able to manage them yet. She fell across the bed, exhausted and emotionally shattered, and let the hot tears flow.

Chapter Twenty-Five

‘So they’re all back at Cricklewood now, safe and well.’ Queenie had phoned Tango and was telling him the story of recovering the bulls. ‘It was pretty hairy at times and, frankly, not very nice.’ The cheerful note she’d been trying to keep in her voice faded.

‘You all right. Mum? I don’t think you’re giving me all the details.’

‘Oh, it’s over now. I didn’t need the shocks waiting for me back here though . . . Saskia quitting has really upset me. Didn’t you try to talk her out of it, Tango? I’m really angry at Colin. He’s so devious, I’m sure he must be up to something. It’s just too much of a coincidence that he, of all people, talks her out of uni then conveniently offers her a job. And just what sort of a place is it? I haven’t been able to talk to her yet.’

‘Mum, Saskia wasn’t coerced. In a way, Colin did her a favour. She’d made up her
mind. You know she’s been miserable for months. And from what she’s told me, Harmony Hill sounds pretty nice. The big thing is she’s working with horses and is happy. It’s a job.’

Queenie sighed. ‘I’ll listen to what she has to say. But I do think it’s unfair of her to do this to me when I have so many other problems, and TR and . . . Jenni . . . It’s all very difficult. Tango.’ For a moment she sounded close to tears. Then she gave a brittle laugh, ‘Ah what the heck, we’ll soldier on. I’m pushing on with my wool plan. Dingo is coming back from Cricklewood for a couple of days then he’s going back home, so maybe things will get back to normal soon.’

‘Mum, don’t worry about Sas . . . ’

‘I’m not worried Tango. I’m just . . . well . . . never mind. Take care, darling.’

Tango knew his mother was trying not to worry him but she was obviously very distressed.

The next day Queenie walked around the verandah and rapped on the glass pane of the French doors.

‘Come in.’ TR was stretched out on the bed reading a book. ‘Hi.’ He smiled at Queenie then noticed her straw-coloured linen skirt, cream silk blouse and leather shoulder bag. A heavy gold heart hung around her throat and he wondered idly if he’d given it to her. ‘You look very nice. Where are you going?’

‘I’m very concerned about Saskia. I’m going over to the coast to see her and this place of Colin’s.’

‘Does she know you’re coming?’

‘No, I thought I’d ambush her.’ They smiled at each other and Queenie perched on the edge of a chair. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked, noting TR’s pale face.

‘Only mild agony today. Might have done too much yesterday.’ He sighed. ‘I’m just so anxious to toss those damned crutches away and stop feeling like a cripple.’

‘Can I get you anything?’ asked Queenie, hating feeling so inadequate when it came to helping TR.

‘No thanks. Jenni will give me a massage. That always helps.’ They looked at each other awkwardly for a minute then TR changed the subject. ‘I wouldn’t worry too much about Saskia. She seems very sensible and very determined to follow her own drummer. I did try to talk her out of it. We all did. She can be a bit stubborn — like her mother, I think.’ The teasing smile still hovered around his mouth. ‘At least she is happy doing something she likes and it could lead to some sort of a career. The more she works with horses the more she’ll learn.’

‘What’s she going to learn pushing fat ladies onto horses and dragging them up a hill?’ demanded Queenie irritably.

‘Patience, good humour, and to watch her weight?’ suggested TR. When Queenie didn’t smile he added, ‘Look, go and see for yourself then and make your judgement after that’.

Queenie stood. ‘Yes, that’s what I’m doing. I just wish Colin wasn’t involved, I smell a rat when he’s around.’

‘I gather we don’t like brother Colin.’

‘No we don’t,’ snapped Queenie. ‘But let’s not get into that. Well, I’ll be off then.’ She went to the bed and kissed TR on the cheek. It was a swift brush of her lips and both felt shy about the contact.

TR looked up at her, marvelling at what a beautiful woman she was, wishing he could get to know her afresh, without all the baggage of their past. ‘Queenie, when you come back, perhaps we could talk more about this wool scheme of yours. I talked about it with Dingo, it sounds interesting. If I can help . . . be involved . . . ’

Queenie gave him her first happy smile since returning to Tingulla. ‘Oh yes, TR, I’d like that.’

He touched her hand lightly. ‘Don’t be too tough on Saskia, hear her out.’

Queenie turned at the French doors and gave TR another wide smile. ‘I’m a fair and reasonable woman, TR.’

‘Until crossed,’ thought TR to himself as he waved her goodbye.

Queenie stayed the night in a motel in Nerang and the following morning found directions to Harmony Hill. As she wound through the grounds to the carpark outside reception, Queenie had to admit it was an idyllic setting.

She walked past a frangipani tree where a set of metallic chimes tinkled sweetly from the branch on which they hung. She stood and listened to them singing in the breeze, then plucked several of the fragrant cream flowers
and tucked them behind her ear. She flicked her fingers against the silver cylinders of the chimes and as she turned away a voice behind her said, ‘You’ve just sent a message halfway round the world’.

She spun around to see a man with a thick dark beard and warm merry brown eyes smiling at her. He was dressed in jeans and a flowered shirt with a frayed straw hat on his dark hair. He stuck out his hand. ‘Bruce Gaden. I work here. They’re nice, aren’t they? Coorabell Chimes, made by a musical madcap of a bloke near Byron Bay.’

‘What did you mean by sending a message?’ asked Queenie, taking an immediate liking to this man.

‘I’ve sent these chimes to friends all over the world. We also sell them here and visitors take them away. And it’s sort of an understanding that when the bells chime, a friend is thinking of you.’

‘That’s nice. This place is very pretty.’

‘Have you come to stay?’

‘No, actually. I wanted to see Saskia Redmond or Colin Hanlon.’

‘Not both together?’

‘No. Are they here?’

Bruce stared at the startingly lovely woman with the brilliant emerald eyes and face framed by waves of burnished golden-brown hair. ‘I bet you’re Saskia’s mother,’ he exclaimed.

Queenie laughed. ‘I am. And she doesn’t know I’m coming.’

‘Checking up, huh? Come over to my house and meet my wife — we’re near the stables and
that’s probably where Sas is — and have a cup of tea or a fruit juice.’

Queenie was charmed by the Gadens’ rustic cottage and garden and felt immediately at ease with Ria. Little Greta was introduced but hung back shyly, trying to grapple with the concept of Saskia having a mother too.

‘I’ll put the kettle on. Greta, you take Sas’s mummy over to the stables and find Sas,’ said Ria.

The little girl took Queenie firmly by the hand and led her away. ‘Do you like horsies?’ she asked.

‘Oh very much.’

Greta nodded with satisfaction and Queenie felt she had passed some test. When they got to the stables Greta called out, ‘Sassy . . . I gotta surprise for yooooo’.

‘And what might that be?’ answered Saskia, emerging from the stalls with several bridles in her hands. Seeing Queenie she stopped, trying to gauge her reaction — she had been dreading this moment. Apprehensively, she moved forward and hugged her mother. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I was going to call, I had a message you rang. That’s so great about finding the bulls, I knew you would.’ The words rushed out, trying to forestall the exchange she knew was coming.

She stepped back and studied Queenie, who was smiling gently at her. Saskia’s bright and hopeful expression suddenly changed to dismay. ‘Oh dear. Now you know about this job, you don’t approve, you’re going to try and talk me out of it. But it won’t work. Mum.’