FOLLOW THE MORNING STAR (46 page)

As Saskia passed Ria’s home-made biscuits and Ria poured lemonade, Jenni asked, ‘I know we’ve covered most things about the job, but I
do have one more question. Umm . . . Mr HanIon, what is his role here, precisely? I mean, I know he’s the big cheese, but would I be working with him closely at all?’

‘Why do you ask, Jenni? Has he made a play for you?’ asked Ria bluntly.

Jenni looked embarrassed and glanced at Saskia. Saskia airily waved a hand. ‘Don’t mind me. He’s my uncle but I can see he’s a bit of a playboy — given the chance.’

‘I don’t intend to give him any chances,’ said Jenni. ‘I’m not looking for a partner.’

‘He’s a married man anyway,’ said Bruce.

‘Very married,’ added Ria and the three laughed, making Jenni feel uncomfortable. Surely none of them had heard any whispers about her and TR.

Ria was frank. ‘Look, Jenni, the best way to deal with Colin is to befriend Dina, his wife. If she takes one look at you, she’ll be watching him like a hawk.’

‘But that could backfire, couldn’t it? She might insist he get rid of me — like threatened wives do to attractive secretaries,’ said Jenni.

‘Then don’t actually meet Dina. Just let it drop to Colin you’d like to meet her and maybe you’ll look her up when you go to the Coast,’ suggested Saskia.

‘Tell him you’ll give her a massage so she can tell her friends,’ laughed Bruce. ‘That way Colin wouldn’t dare approach you in anything other than a very proper fashion!’

Jenni laughed, but she was glad she was only on a three-month trial. Although the job suited her and she liked the Gadens, and it was
going to be fun being with Saskia, she didn’t want to be locked into anything. She wanted her plans to be flexible. She didn’t know what might happen when TR returned from his sojourn in the west.

TR, Tango and Dingo were sprawled in canvas settler’s chairs in the screened section of the verandah of his rambling old homestead. Overhead fans slowly churned the tepid air as they watched the last of the brilliant sunset colours spill across the sky, setting the red hills on fire and changing them to an iridescent green. Bugs began to kamikaze against the mesh.

The men settled down with their beers as Dingo declared, ‘Ah this is the life. Nice to have a bit of company to watch the sunset. I’ll get us a feed in a little while.’

‘So what’s for supper tonight, Dingo?’ asked Tango. ‘Surely we’ve finished that stew by now.’

‘And what’s wrong with my stew?’ demanded Dingo.

‘Nothing, it was just . . . a lot,’ said Tango, winking at TR.

‘And filling. I reckon I could go for something simpler tonight. Corned beef and salad. Or a plain grilled steak,’ said TR.

Dingo slapped his leg. ‘Steak, that’s it. I’ve got some buffalo steak out there you’re really going to hoe into. Who’s for another cold beer first?’

‘My arm could be twisted,’ said Tango.

‘Me too,’ joined in TR. As Dingo disappeared
inside he looked at Tango and rolled his eyes. ‘God, how does he survive his own cooking?’

‘He’s outlived three wives,’ laughed Tango. ‘What I wouldn’t give for one of Mum Ryan’s dinners.’

Dingo returned with three cold bottles of beer. ‘Now, tomorrow I want to get you blokes over to the neighbour who’s got these alpacas. Wonderful creatures, fabulous wool, cost a bloody fortune each. But could be good. You’ll find it interesting.’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard about them. A lot of money tied up in one animal,’ said Tango.

‘I thought you said you were starting to farm ostrich and emu?’ said TR.

‘I am. But it doesn’t hurt to branch out into something new. Like Queenie. I like the sound of what she’s doing. In fact, I’m going to send her emu skins now that she has a tannery going that’s prepared to do something a bit different.’

‘Did you know they are also tanning cane toads and fish skins up north?’ said Tango.

‘You’re pulling our leg,’ said TR.

‘Straight up. Barramundi skin is beautiful. And I saw a cane toad lampshade in a souvenir shop on the Gold Coast,’ insisted Tango.

‘They’ll sell anything to the poor — or rather, rich — bloody Japanese. You sure it wasn’t a cane toad that’d swallowed a light bulb? They eat everything,’ declared Dingo, but he looked thoughtful, and TR and Tango burst out laughing.

‘He’s trying to figure out if there’s a quid in this that he might’ve missed,’ laughed TR. ‘What do you do with the big birds anyway?’

‘Sell the ostrich plumage, emu oil and eggs, plus tan the skins of both and sell the meat. That’s at the end of their productive breeding life. And don’t laugh, I have another scheme in mind too. Might get you blokes roped in on this one.’

‘Might have known there was a catch to his offer,’ grinned TR to Tango.

‘What now, Dingo?’ asked Tango.

‘Camels. But I’ll tell you about that over dinner. Ah, darkness has fallen . . .’ They sat in silence watching the day end. ‘I never get tired of watching a sunset, and I’ve seen more than my fair share,’ mused Dingo.

The three men sat in contemplative silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Dingo glanced at the father and son, thinking how alike they were. He said a silent prayer that TR would recover; it was painful to see him living in this limbo land.

TR felt an intense peace in the silence of the evening and he was able, for the first time, to contemplate a future for himself. He knew he was leaving Queenie and Jenni out on a bit of a limb and that it wasn’t very fair to them, but he needed this time alone to start piecing his life back together again.

Tango was thinking of Jenni, wondering how she was settling in at Harmony Hill. She drifted into his thoughts often these days; she was exerting a pull on him he’d never experienced from any other girl before. No wonder his father had relied on her so much. Despite her sweet softness, she was a strong woman and he liked that. Perhaps he’d pay her a visit soon to see how she was getting along.

Finally Dingo stood up, saying, ‘Right, work to be done. And on the morrow we venture forth.’ He headed for the kitchen and called behind him, ‘Dinner time!’

TR and Tango looked at one another and groaned.

Queenie was shaking slightly as the Regent Hotel doorman opened the door of the taxi for her. She walked across the spacious lobby to the house phone, lifted the receiver and asked for his room. She had barely been connected when the phone was taken from her hands and replaced in the cradle. She turned around slowly to find Henri smiling at her. He looked as handsome as ever, his warm brown eyes glowing with pleasure behind his glasses. His hair was shorter and elegantly cut, a hint of grey at the temples. He smiled his perfect smile and they embraced affectionately, Henri kissing her on both cheeks.

‘My beautiful Queenie. How is it possible you become more lovely with each year?’

‘Henri, it is so
good
to see you.’ Queenie was filled with joy at the sight of this old lover, her staunch ally and friend. ‘You’ve come along at exactly the right time.’

Henri took her arm and led her across the foyer, the two unaware of what a stunning couple they made. ‘The right time to take you to dinner, or the right time to enter your life again?’

Queenie glanced at him. ‘Both.’

Henri pressed the lift button. ‘Sarah told me about TR’s accident. I am most distressed for
you. For you both. But these memory lapses can often be just that — a lapse. I am sure all will be well. Have courage, dear Queenie.’

They stepped into the lift and Queenie linked her arm through his. ‘It has been a terrible time, Henri. I don’t know if it’s Murphy’s law or fate or what, but so many problems have come all at once.’

Henri squeezed her arm. ‘Bad luck is like a snowball, it gets bigger and bigger and rolls faster and faster downhill until boomph, it comes to the bottom of the hill and it is over.’

The lift chimed and the doors opened and Henri led Queenie along to Kables Restaurant. ‘Come, tonight we are going to eat superbly, enjoy some Bollinger and fill in the gaps between notes on Christmas cards.’

The maitre d’ showed the world-famous hotelier and his beautiful companion to a discreet corner of the lounge area and hurried away to send the waiter with the champagne and crystal glasses.

Queenie touched the perfect rose in the centre of the little table. ‘So, Henri, Sarah tells me you haven’t married. Anyone special in your life?’

‘There is only one special lady in my life.’ He reached out and touched her cheek. ‘But I have some nice companions from time to time.’ He smiled at Queenie. ‘My work . . . you understand.’ He gave a Gallic shrug and spread his arms.

Queenie smiled sadly. ‘Life doesn’t always turn out the way we think or plan, does it?’

‘No, so we must accept what the fates
decree,
mais non?
’ He raised the crystal flute of champagne. ‘Here’s to friendship.’

Queenie lightly touched her own glass to his. ‘Sometimes friendship is better than love. To you, Henri.’

‘And to you, Queenie. Salut.’

The waiter handed them the menu and Henri glanced at it briefly, made his decision and put it down. ‘Now, Queenie, I am fascinated to know what is this plan you have that has driven you finally to part with the Kurrajong.’

‘Only to you, Henri. I need to finance a new plan for Tingulla.’

By the time they had finished their glass of champagne, given their order and moved to their candle-lit table in a quiet corner, they were deeply engrossed in conversation. The years apart evaporated as Henri listened attentively to Queenie’s plans, asking an occasional detailed and pertinent question.

After dinner they sat in the piano bar and Queenie listened to Henri tell her of his plans to open a new hotel in Eastern Europe and China. ‘I must tell you of my travels to these places, you know how I love to travel,’ he smiled. ‘But it is late, we shall continue this soon. What are your plans?’

Queenie glanced at her dainty Rolex watch. ‘It’s late. Sarah and John will be in bed. I’m dying to hear about your travels, you tell such wonderful stories. I get so involved with Tingulla and the sheep and cattle and Cricklewood and the land that I forget there are lands beyond our fences.’ Queenie rose. ‘I’m planning to go up to
the Kurrajong on the weekend. I want to tell the staff in person of my plans to sell.’

‘They will be upset.’

‘They won’t be when they find out I’m selling to you, to Montpelier.’

They walked arm in arm down the marble staircase to the foyer. ‘Then I shall accompany you to the Blue Mountains,’ said Henri. ‘Are you agreeable? Perhaps we could arrange a handing-over ceremony.’

‘What a delightful idea!’ exclaimed Queenie. ‘But in the meantime I have to go and talk to a few pooh bahs about my new business venture.’

‘Going into battle?’ Henri asked as the concierge signalled a taxi.

‘Sort of,’ laughed Queenie. ‘It depends which side you’re on as to whether it’s war or not.’ The doorman opened the taxi door and Queenie reached up and kissed Henri lightly on the mouth. ‘Thank you, Henri. It’s been wonderful. See you very soon.’

‘Bonne nuit,
Queenie.’ Henri watched the taxi slide away and sighed deeply. He thought he had got over Queenie and had settled for their bond of friendship. Now, seeing her again, his heart told him otherwise — he would always love her.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Dina watched Colin surreptitiously, aware he was distracted, making plans that he didn’t want her to know about. She knew him well enough to know he wasn’t involved with another woman, and the only other interest he had was money. Colin was applying himself to work with a diligence that she found unusual. He spent time on the phone, he wrote copious notes and letters which he carried about in his locked briefcase. She knew very well that all this industry had nothing to do with Harmony Hill, although he tried to give her the impression that it did.

One Friday Dina called Harmony Hill to see whether Colin was coming back that evening or the next day, but Bruce told her Colin had already left. ‘He said he had a lunch appointment in Brisbane, Dina.’

‘I see, very well. Goodbye.’

‘And thank you too,’ muttered Bruce,
hanging up the phone. He too had noticed that Colin was preoccupied. He mentioned it to Ria. ‘Do you think he has a girlfriend? Sometimes he looks quite pleased with himself.’