FOLLOW THE MORNING STAR (44 page)

‘You don’t need looking after, you’re on your own now, TR,’ said Jenni with a flash of her old bossiness.

‘Now that’s the Jenni I know and love . . .bossy and sassy and strong. I reckon these past weeks you’ve gone a bit wimpy on me, Jen,’ TR said lightly. ‘I’ve decided to go and stay with Dingo over in the west for a bit. He’ll toughen me up.’

‘Don’t get too tough,’ said Jenni softly. ‘So my job is over, I’m out of your life now?’

‘No! Not all,’ TR replied. He paused and sighed. ‘I hope you’ll always be part of my life. I just don’t know how I feel about you — about anyone, to tell you the truth,’ TR looked at her with a pleading expression in his deep blue eyes. ‘Please try to understand, Jenni.’

‘This has been a very . . .unusual time for me too, TR. I have always sworn never to get emotionally involved with my patients. Until you came along. I suppose being together so much is part of it,’ said Jenni in a small voice.

‘Jenni, you sweet girl, you shouldn’t get involved with me. I don’t want you to get hurt. This has been more than just a job for you, I realise that. I owe you an enormous debt.’

‘I don’t want you to feel you owe me anything, TR. I want you to listen to your
instincts, what you really feel,’ said Jenni, and added defiantly, ‘If you’re brave enough to do that.’

‘And what are your feelings, Jenni?’ asked TR steadily.

‘I think I could love you, TR, but until you are sure about how you feel, I’m not going to let myself go.’

‘Shall we call a truce then? Until I come back from the west?’

Jenni nodded and stuck out her hand. ‘That’s a deal.’ Jenni stood up, forcing a bright smile. ‘But if you fall off another horse over there I’ll be pretty cross with you after all our hard work. I don’t know if you’re ready to tackle riding horses yet.’

‘Don’t worry about it. They ride camels out there.’ They smiled at each other and Jenni kissed him lightly on his cheek, then walked swiftly away.

Chapter Thirty

The yachts slid by in white formation. Sails billowing, they sliced through the dazzling blue water across the harbour towards Middle Head.

‘Has to be Wednesday, there go the solicitors and doctors of Sydney’s yachting set,’ remarked Sarah adjusting her sunglasses.

Queenie lifted her glass of white wine and clinked glasses with Sarah. ‘Here’s to Tingulla Wool and Leather Enterprises, otherwise known as Tingulla Fashions. Sarah, I really appreciate your help with this, but are you sure about being an investor as well?’

‘Hey, that sounds like a moment of doubt. If I didn’t believe in what you’re doing I wouldn’t offer to put up some money too. We’ve known each other too closely too long and I’ve seen you win through time and again under extraordinary circumstances. I’d put my money on you sailing a paper canoe over
Niagara Falls. I know it’s a big project and you’re really doing it on your own again, but you’re at the helm so we won’t go under.’

Queenie was touched by Sarah’s words. So many people were putting their faith and trust in her to make Tingulla Fashions a success.

They sipped their wine in the sunshine, the checked tablecloth fluttering in the breeze blowing from the water, which was just a few metres away. Laughter and conversation drifted along the outdoor tables of Doyles waterfront restaurant at Watsons Bay.

‘Wine at lunch, I feel positively decadent,’ sighed Queenie.

‘Here comes some more decadence,’ grinned Sarah as the owner, Peter Doyle, bore down on them with a platter piled with fruits and cakes. ‘The desserts, not Peter, I mean.’

‘Sarah, I’m sure your beautiful companion deserves this extra indulgence. My compliments.’ Peter smiled and put the platter on the table between them.

‘I don’t think I can eat another thing, your seafood salad had half the ocean in it. It was absolutely wonderful,’ enthused Queenie.

‘Thank you, madam!’ He acknowledged the compliment with a slight bow. ‘How was the flounder?’ he asked Sarah.

‘Superb, as always. Peter, this is Queenie Hamilton. From Tingulla near my parents.’

He gallantly kissed Queenie’s hand. ‘Welcome. I guess you don’t get much fresh seafood out there.’

‘No, not fresh. This has been heavenly. And
not just the food.’ Queenie waved her arms to take in the restaurant, the view over the bay and the beachside setting itself. ‘No wonder you’re world famous.’

‘So is my restaurant,’ grinned their incorrigible and charming host. ‘Let me send you home with some fresh shrimp, just in off the boat. A little light supper for John and yourselves.’ He moved away, greeting other diners.

‘Well, that takes care of dinner tonight; he is sweet,’ said Sarah. ‘We come here regularly. The kids love it too. This for them is going for fish and chips.’

‘I can’t think of dinner at present. Oh it’s nice to feel so carefree. It’s been so hard lately.’ Queenie’s happy expression faded and Sarah reached out and touched her arm.

‘No moping. This is time out from Tingulla, right?’

‘Well, if you insist.’ Queenie gave a wry smile. ‘But how would you feel if your husband was left at home with a young blonde who has her hands on him all day?’

Sarah laughed. ‘Okay, I take your point. Whinge away.’

‘Oh Sarah, I don’t want to whinge, but sometimes at night in those lonely dark hours, I’m fearful TR and the life we had has slipped away from me.’

‘Hang in there, Queenie. This is TR we’re talking about. He’s special, remember?’

‘I remember all right,’ said Queenie with feeling. ‘But does he?’ Sarah gave Queenie’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

A waiter arrived at their table and handed
them a small Styrofoam Esky. ‘Compliments of Mr Doyle.’

‘Ah, the shrimp. Come on, Queenie, let’s settle the bill and go down to Double Bay and window-shop on the way home.’ Sarah pushed back her chair. She knew Queenie would never be her old self until TR was back to normal and she prayed that day was not for off. But perhaps it was an impossible dream. She resolved not to let Queenie get the slightest hint of her doubts.

Queenie spent a few days relaxing then, one sunny afternoon while John, Tim and Pauline were at a football game, she sat down with Sarah and announced that it was time to get down to business.

Over coffee she explained in detail the total concept of Tingulla Fashions. ‘It’s quality fine wool and leather fashions for men and women. I’m trying to break away from the idea too many people still have that wool is for expensive suits or winter jumpers and not much else. The summer-weight wools breathe and adjust naturally to the temperature. They are superb to wear and they look terrific.’ Queenie pulled out of her briefcase a few rough sketches of her designs.

‘Queenie, these are stunning. Europeans would love these,’ said Sarah. ‘My God, this whole project is so exciting! But it’s going to take a lot of work to get it off the ground.’

‘It has good export potential, but above all I want to sell it to Australians. We should all be walking advertisements for wool. We know
better than anyone the benefits of wool but we’ve been carried away by synthetics.’ Queenie sat back and sipped her coffee.

‘Now, Sarah, this is where you come in. You did such a fabulous job marketing and publicising those rundown terraces we transformed into Heirloom Cottages all those years ago. With your help we started a whole trend in renovating old places and living in the inner city. So would you take this on? For a fee of course.’

‘I’d adore to do it! But let me barter with you — pay me in these clothes, not cash. I’m an investor, remember.’ The two friends laughed and shook hands.

Over the next few days Queenie and Sarah began visiting and talking to fashion manufacturers, knitters, tailors, pattern-makers and sewers, from organised groups to part-time piece workers. Queenie had already done a lot of homework and they quickly honed their list down to the most likely people to employ. A small mill in Victoria had been contracted to spin and weave Tingulla’s wool and the head designer flew up to Sydney to meet Queenie with dye samples of the colours Queenie had chosen. She wanted all the dyes to come from natural sources for their subtlety of shades as well as part of the ‘totally natural’ sales pitch she envisioned.

‘I also want to do a range of very Australian inspired creations,’ Queenie told Sarah as they sat talking over a glass of wine after a long and exhausting day of meetings. ‘I haven’t firmed up this concept yet. I know the
colours I want, and that it should be an Australian theme.’

‘It’ll come in time,’ Sarah said reassuringly. ‘It’s all moving along very quickly. I’m astounded at how fast people will move when they’re enthused about something. The response everywhere is wonderful.’

‘We’ve got to work on an initial launch promotion to get us rolling,’ said Queenie. ‘Something really fabulous for the first showing.’

Sarah flipped over pages in her notebook. ‘I’ve been making notes about publicity and I think we should talk to one of the big TV magazine programmes and do a minidocumentary on this whole thing. They could start filming now, follow us all the way through.’

‘Great idea!’ exclaimed Queenie. ‘And don’t forget my old reporter pal, Kim Cameron. He’s now a senior feature writer for the
Australian,
let’s give him an exclusive to get the ball rolling.’

‘Is this enterprise going to stay an upmarket, high fashion one?’ asked Sarah looking thoughtful. ‘I don’t think we should neglect the big middle market out there.’

‘Oh I agree and I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Queenie. ‘But we need something dramatic and splashy to get us launched. It won’t be all fine merino wool products. I want to be able to use good standard wool too — for things like blankets, pillows, eiderdowns and sheepskin bed-liners. The brand name will start with clothes then spin off into other products. The designs will follow through — at least some of them will.’

The phone rang and John called out, ‘It’s for you Queenie. It’s TR.’

Sarah sighed at the way Queenie’s face lit up as she hurried to the phone. John sat beside Sarah and draped his arm over her shoulder, allowing Queenie to talk in private.

Sarah leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder. ‘I hope things work out for them. Queenie’s been through so much. I’m so glad she has this wool thing to keep her occupied.’

‘It sounds good but it seems as though she is trying to set the whole wool industry up on a completely new tack. I hate to sound sceptical, but it’s very ambitious doing it from the ground up like this.’

Sarah smiled. ‘Queenie doesn’t think small. She never has. And she does see this as a way of helping the whole wool industry, giving all woolgrowers another outlet. And she is thorough. Remember, you were worried about Heirloom Cottages and the Kurrajong Hotel. She pulled off both those ventures, despite the odds.’

‘True,’ conceded John. ‘It seems when Queenie has a personal crisis in her life she turns around and heads into some fantastic business scheme.’

Queenie came back into the room, an expression on her face that was hard to read.

Sarah sat up. ‘What does that look mean? What did TR have to say?’

Queenie sprawled in the deep lounge chair opposite. ‘I don’t know what went on after I left, but TR is leaving Tingulla and going over
to stay with Dingo for a bit. He’s asked Tango to go with him if he can.’

‘That sounds like a reasonable idea.’ said John cautiously.

‘What’s happened to Miss Jenni?’ asked Sarah with a raised eyebrow.

‘He’s trying to get her a job at Harmony Hill with Saskia.’ Queenie pulled a face. ‘He wants to make sure she has a good job and is happy.’

‘How long is he going to be out west?’ asked John.

‘He doesn’t know.’ Queenie had a sudden awful thought. ‘Oh Sarah, he will come back, won’t he?’

‘Now, now, stop jumping to conclusions.’ said John soothingly.

‘Queenie, take this as a positive sign,’ added Sarah. ‘He hasn’t run off with Jenni, for heaven’s sake. You left them alone and look what’s happened — they’ve gone to opposite sides of the country! Why do you think he’s taken off, John? Give us the male perspective.’

John paused and looked a trifle sheepish. ‘Frankly, if I were TR and starting to get more mobile, I’d yearn for a little male company and go bush too. Sounds like he’s been cosseted by females too much: this Jenni, Millie, you.’