FOLLOW THE MORNING STAR (43 page)

Other than clothes and immediate necessities Colin hadn’t unpacked any of his effects that had come from Italy. Dina had insisted they ship to Europe all their furniture and household possessions, including the personal effects Colin had had in his bachelor apartment in Double Bay. Among these was a large box he hadn’t unpacked in Italy, which was labelled
Colin — bachelor stuff.
Now he wanted to get into that carton and he spent several hours
rummaging in their storage bin in the basement of the pink penthouse.

After several hours he finally found what he was looking for. He slit the box open and went through it, putting aside photo albums, old records, knick-knacks, letters and books. There was also a long metal cash box which he put to one side as he began going through the books.

While he was occupied, Dina drove into the underground garage and pulled up in their allocated space in front of the storage facility. She got out of the car with a bemused expression. ‘What are you doing
caro?
You look like a monkey in a cage.’

Colin started guiltily. He’d been deeply engrossed in a pile of letters. ‘You’re back early. What happened? You run out of money? Or buy out the shop?’

‘We couldn’t find anything nice to buy so we went to lunch. Why are you opening that box after all these years?’ she asked, peering through the mesh of the cage.

‘Just looking for a . . . legal document I seem to have misplaced,’ said Colin hurriedly.

Dina looked at him curiously. ‘I’m going for my siesta.’ She pushed the button and disappeared into the elevator.

Half an hour later Colin walked quietly into the penthouse, doing a brief double take as he caught sight of himself in the massive giltframed mirror Dina had just acquired to hang in the entryway. He went into the study and pulled open a drawer in the white Louis Quinze replica table which Dina used as a
desk. It was filled with her personalised embossed stationery.

Colin changed his mind and opened the leadlight doors on the wall shelves, put the book and the tin box inside and turned the little gold key. Returning to Dina’s desk he found her address book and copied out a phone number. He peered into the bedroom to make sure Dina was asleep, then shut the door and lifted the phone.

Dina was lying on the quilted bedspread with her shoes off and a satin shade over her eyes, but she wasn’t asleep. She heard the click of the phone as Colin dialled and she reached out and lifted the phone to her ear without disturbing her eyeshade. She lay on the bed listening to the conversation and when Colin hung up she gently replaced the receiver, pushed the eye shade up on her head, and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling.

While Colin was in the shower that evening, Dina began looking through his drawers, wardrobe and in his desk before moving into the study. It took her five minutes to find the book and tin box which was unlocked. Inside were letters, documents and a few small mementoes, but nothing that appeared to be of interest. She took down the book, it was an early edition of Australian poetry. It was not Colin’s usual reading matter and she flipped it open. Written in the flyleaf was the signature of Patrick Hanlon. Dina riffled through the book and found a folded sheet of paper. She read it quickly. It was a letter from Colin’s father explaining his will and the reasons why
he had left Tingulla to Queenie and not to Colin. Dina shrugged and replaced the letter and book.

With Queenie’s departure from Tingulla the energy seemed to drain away from the homestead. Queenie had been the focus of daily life and now it seemed an empty shell. There were fewer people about and TR found the solitude suffocating. He found he was becoming irritable with Jenni’s insistence on continuing his exercise regime. He drew away from her, preferring to assert himself in small ways rather than turn to her for assistance and support.

The change in TR’s attitude was indicative of his recovery, but whereas Jenni would normally welcome this withdrawal process as a sign of independence in a patient, this time she was very disappointed. She was deeply attracted to TR; to her he represented the ideal man. She was an only child, her mother had been widowed when Jenni was very young, so she had lacked the companionship of a brother or father. To her, TR, with his strength of character, his gentle humour and good looks, was the man she’d dreamt about all her life.

Now that he could drive for short distances before the pain in his leg became unbearable, TR began roaming around the property. He spent time looking at the giant rams with their great curled horns, blank expressions and impossibly thick blankets of fleece. He parted the snowy wool, marvelling at the superfine lanolin-soaked wool fibres. Queenie was
right, this was a unique resource and Tingulla’s wool was consistently among the best in the country.

TR was down at the home paddock leaning on the fence when he saw Snowy making his way towards him. He was carrying a canvas bag, a swag and a stockwhip looped over his shoulder. He raised his hand in greeting.

TR waited till the old man had reached him. ‘Glad to see you back, Snowy. Ernie with you?’

‘Not yet. I left him out there. He’ll be back in a day or so. Gotta bit of thinkin’ to do. He’s learnin’ the old ways and the laws real good. Howa tings here, boss?’

‘Quiet. Queenie’s gone to Sydney. I’m getting about pretty well. I’m feeling a bit useless, bored I suppose. A bit confused about my life here.’

‘You bilong here, no question ‘bout that.’

‘I just don’t feel I fit in, Snowy.’

The old man stared at him. ‘Maybe you need to go walkabout too.’

TR smiled ruefully. ‘And go where? I admit the idea is appealing but I doubt I’d manage too well on my own out in the bush. I’m still a bit wobbly on my pins and frankly, Snowy, I don’t know if I’ll remember my bush skills.’

‘Ah, I wasn’t thinkin’ of you just goin’ bush on yer own, TR. I reckon you should go over there t’see Dingo. Make ’im a big walkabout.’

TR was silent for a moment. ‘I’ll think about it. I can drive a bit now, hop in and I’ll give you a ride back up to the house.’

‘Before we git goin’, TR,’ Snowy took the stockwhip from his shoulder and smoothed it
a little and handed it to TR, ‘this fella bin Patrick Hanlon’s best whip. He give him me in his will. I reckon you should take ’im now.’

TR was about to protest, but the look on the old man’s face stopped him. TR looked at the beautifully plaited whip with the TG brand woven into the handle and said warmly, Thank you, Snowy’.

Jenni was waiting for TR when he got back to the house. ‘Hey there! I thought you’d run away from home. Where’ve you been? Don’t overdo the driving, it puts strain on your leg, you know.’

‘I was looking at the big rams and I’ve been thinking about Queenie’s wool scheme. I met up with Snowy, he’s back.’

Jenni patted the cushion beside her on the wicker lounge. ‘Sit down and rest. Are you filling in some of the blanks of running this place? It seems an enormous job, not to mention Cricklewood and Guneda. I’d like to see the stud, do you think we could go and see Tango? It might be good for you to acquaint yourself with all the rest of the background of your life.’

‘I like it here for the moment. It’s les . . . complicated.’ He didn’t want to say it, but without Queenie there, he felt more relaxed. He felt like he was walking a tightrope between the two women when they were both around him.

Jenni rested her hand on his thigh. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Ah, a bit tired.’

‘Want a massage?’ she asked. ‘Guaranteed to relax tired and aching muscles.’

‘Okay. I might go have a shower first.’ He leaned on his cane to get to his feet. He didn’t explain to Jenni he felt more mentally tired than physically tired, but a massage always helped him unwind.

However, lying on the massage table, his face buried in a towel as Jenni worked her fingers into his shoulder muscles, TR couldn’t relax as he normally did. He suddenly felt there was a different energy flowing from Jenni’s hands. Where her strong fingers usually worked firmly and often painfully into the knots and stiffness of his tendons and muscles, now they seemed to stroke and caress. With a pang TR realised just how attached Jenni was to him.

He lay there rigid and unmoving, with a sinking heart, wondering what to do. Jenni was so caring and sweet and there was no denying the bond they shared. It was easy to deal with her because their relationship had been a natural progression. But then there was Queenie — his wife. A beautiful, intelligent, clever woman who loved him deeply and with whom he’d supposedly built a happy life. But that was a past he couldn’t recapture and starting over again seemed impossible.

‘TR, what’s the matter with you? Your back is as hard as a rock,’ admonished Jenni. ‘Come on now, relax.’

TR sat up, clutching the towel draped over him. ‘I can’t.’ He looked at Jenni staring back at him, puzzlement as well as affection in her hazel eyes. ‘I have some thinking to do.’ He struggled from the table and limped from the
room. Jenni slowly screwed the top back on the bottle of massage oil. Her hands shook and tears blurred her vision. TR had obviously come to a turning point, but what about her?

Millie carried a tray of corned beef and salad sandwiches and a pot of tea out to TR who was writing a letter on the verandah.

‘There’s only sandwiches for lunch. No one round here wants t’eat and I’m busy,’ said Millie briskly.

‘That’s all right, Millie. I’m not very hungry either.’

Millie looked at him for a second then folded her arms. ‘So what’s botherin’ you then?’

TR gazed at the plump, grey-haired motherly figure. The years were catching up with her. Millie’s light skin was wrinkled but she radiated strength and energy. ‘Sit down, Millie,’ he said gently. ‘You and I are friends, right?’

‘You bet, TR. Since you first come here as a strapping young man. You was a shy young fella but you knew what you wanted. By golly you and them horses, and then Queenie. I’ve looked out for you just as I have for Queenie. Because without you and her bein’ together, neither of you is happy.’

‘I know, you all tell me that . . . about Queenie and me,’ said TR slowly, ‘but it doesn’t mean anything. I mean, I don’t feel anything. Then there’s young Jenni . . . and I’m fond of her . . . which all leaves me feeling a bit confused,’ finished TR lamely, seeing the grim set of Millie’s mouth.

‘Now listen, TR, Jenni is a nice girl. She’s helped you through a tough time, and you is a very handsome bloke. Charmin’ too, when you wanna be. But she is young enough to be your daughter, and I don’t think you should be makin’ a fool of yourself and makin’ one heck of a stupid mistake just ‘cause you ain’t yourself.’

‘So what do I do, Millie? What if I don’t get back to normal? What if my memory doesn’t come back? I’m trying to take this one day at a time, but I tell you, Millie, I don’t think I can go on in this limbo. Trying to live a ghost life. I reckon it’d be less painful for everyone if I cut the ropes and we all started over.’

‘No!’ Millie rose to her feet. ‘I’m not listening to this rubbish talk. You is givin’ up, TR. And you’re wrong, hear? You is dead wrong.’ Millie’s eyes shone with furious tears.

TR reached out and took her coarse, worktoughened hand in his. ‘Millie, I don’t want to upset you. I’m trying to do what’s best for all of us.’

‘That ain’t what’s best,’ muttered Millie stubbornly.

‘You won’t give up on us, will you?’ said TR with a sad smile.

‘No. Queenie’d never forgive me if I let you walk away from her, from your life. There never was two people more happy than you two.’

TR patted her hand. ‘Millie, I am going away, just for a short time. On a walkabout, like Snowy suggested. I think I’ll go and spend some time over there with Dingo.’

Millie stared at him then nodded slowly. ‘Yes, that’d be good. But what about Jenni?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that. We all need some time apart before we make any earth-shattering decisions. Jenni’ll need to find another job. I don’t want to lose touch with her and I want to help her. So it occurred to me, she might be able to work up there where Saskia is. I was just writing to her to see if she’d put in a good word for Jenni with the owners.’ The truth was TR didn’t want to give Jenni up, but the time had come for him to choose between the two women in his life, and he couldn’t do that with them both watching his every move, each asking for something he couldn’t give.

‘What’s Jenni say about this?’ asked Millie.

TR looked sheepish. ‘I haven’t told her yet.’

‘Well you’d better, ‘cause I ain’t doin’ it for you, TR.’ Millie picked up the tea pot. ‘I’ll top this up with hot water. And, TR, I think you’re doin’ the right thing. Going to Dingo.’

TR tried to choose the right moment to speak to Jenni, but she found and confronted him instead. He was sitting in Millie’s old chair near the herb garden in the shade of the peppercorn tree. She moved his cane and perched on the arm of the chair. ‘So, have you finished your thinking?’

‘Yes, I have.’ TR didn’t look at her. ‘Jenni, I’ve come to a decision . . .’

‘You’re going to give me the flick,’ she interjected with a slight grin.

TR smiled at her. ‘Not quite. But I guess you know things have come to a sort of . . . head.’

‘Well, you’re virtually walking on your own. You can have routine treatments and checkups in town now.’

‘There’s no one that will look after me like you, Jenni.’