Home Before Sundown (4 page)

Yes . . .

The weirdness
. For thirty years she'd played it safe. Now, to Liz's dismay, her mind flashed to the one place she never wanted it to go. She felt something deep inside her split open, spilling tears. She shivered and it took a supreme effort to force another smile. ‘It'll be another adventure.'

‘Yes.'

Was it her imagination or was there a note of panic in Bella's voice? Liz fancied she heard an echo of the same doubts that screamed inside her at the thought of spending more than a few days in the place they'd both so willingly left.

‘We'll do a really good job of looking after the place until Dad gets better,' Bella said with a new decisiveness.

‘And if he doesn't . . . ?' The question had to be asked.

Bella bit her lip. ‘In that case . . . I guess . . . I guess we'll hang around until Mum works out what she wants to do.'

‘It could take months.'

‘Yes.'

Across the room the two women shared tremulous smiles.

Brave smiles.

‘We still have our pact,' Bella said.

‘Oh, absolutely. We said we'd do whatever it takes for as long as it takes. But we
will
go back to the northern hemisphere.'

‘Yes, it's important,' Bella agreed fervently. ‘We need that escape plan.' Her smile was wry now as she sat up and lifted her water glass from the bedside table. ‘Here's to us.'

‘Cattle Queens,' Liz responded with a laugh.

The toast was barely acknowledged when Bella's phone rang suddenly and she snatched it up eagerly. ‘Hello? Oh, hi, Mum.'

Liz watched as the expression on her niece's face morphed from happy anticipation to shocked disbelief. Her heart thudded. It wasn't bad news about Peter, surely? Please,
no
.

‘But why?' Bella was demanding, jumping to her feet, clearly upset. ‘He's just being stubborn. He's still in the Dark Ages. Mum, it's ridiculous. I have to talk to him.'

She finished the call and glared at Liz. ‘Dad's rejected my offer. He wants to look for a
proper
manager for Mullinjim.' She gave an exasperated eye roll. ‘A man.'

Before Liz could summon an appropriately sympathetic response, Bella had thrust her feet into shoes and was heading for the door.

‘Dad.' Bella once again tiptoed up to the hospital bed. Her father appeared to be asleep, but at the sound of her voice his eyes opened.

‘Hey, Bella.'

‘I know you're supposed to be resting, but the nurse let me in. I won't be long.'

‘That's okay. It's always a tonic to see you, sweetheart.'

He smiled fondly, the lovely smile he'd given her for as long as she could remember.

Once upon a time, that smile would have been enough. Today she jumped straight to the point. ‘Mum said you don't want me to look after Mullinjim.' It was hard to keep the hurt out of her voice.

Her father frowned. ‘I don't want to drag you away from France, love.'

‘But I'm already here,' Bella responded, forcing a smile. ‘And I'd really like to help.' Before her dad could protest, she rushed on. ‘I know exactly what has to be done.' She shook her head at him as if to block his protests.

‘But it's tough work, Belle.'

‘That won't worry me. Please don't treat me like a pampered Pony Club Princess. You know I've always helped with the cattle. I'd much rather be out in the yards than helping Mum in the kitchen. And I know as much about cattle as Luke does.'

Even Bella was surprised by how fiercely important this suddenly felt. Her father was her hero and here he was fighting for his life, and she desperately wanted to show him he could rely on her. She wanted to make him proud.

‘What about your French boyfriend?'

She felt a guilty start. ‘He's not as important as you,' she said softly, knowing it was true.

‘But you'd be working out there pretty much on your own. You'd be working cattle as well as doing your own cooking.'

‘Liz would come, too.'

There was no mistaking the flare of doubt in her father's eyes. It was clear he couldn't believe Liz would return to Mullinjim after having avoided the place for so long. ‘Have you asked her?'

‘Didn't have to. She's already volunteered.'

‘Jeez.' Her dad looked stunned. ‘You must have more sway with my sister than I have.

‘She doesn't want you to have any reasons to worry,' Bella said gently. ‘And neither do I.'

A small silence ticked by.

‘You'd keep in touch, wouldn't you, Belle? To give me updates?'

She grinned. ‘Sure. I'll ring Mum or you every night to put your minds at rest.'

Her dad nodded tiredly and, to her relief, he was smiling.

Liz rang Michael from the motel.

‘Darling, how are you? I've been so desperate to hear from you. How's your brother?'

‘He seems to be improving, thanks.'

‘That's wonderful. I'm so relieved for you. So . . . does that mean you'll be back in London soon?'

‘Not exactly. I'm going to stay on for a bit to help Bella run the family farm.'

There was an audible gasp on other end of the line. ‘But that's crazy,' Michael blustered.

‘I don't think so.'

‘It's bloody ridiculous, Liz. You're a concert pianist. You can't work on a
cattle property
.'

‘It's not as if I'll be mustering or branding or any of the rough stuff. We'll mainly keep an eye on the place. It's the calving season. And I'm not going to stay there forever.'

Even as she explained this, however, Liz wondered why she bothered to put Michael's mind at rest. His anger annoyed her. If he actually cared about her he'd be more sympathetic. As it was, he was simply being selfish.

She was surprised by how relieved she was that there were twelve thousand miles between them.

Anton was very quiet when Bella told him her news.

‘You do understand, don't you?' she prompted, after an awkward silence.

‘Yes, of course,' he said. ‘You're a good daughter, Bella. Your parents must be very grateful. Very proud of you, also.'

‘But it doesn't mean I'll forget you, Anton. And you still have my horseshoe charm. You know I'll be back for that.'

‘
Oui
.'

He sounded so sad and doubtful that Bella felt close to tears. She took a deep breath. ‘I miss you already. We'll stay in touch, okay? I'll phone you and I'll send emails.'

‘Yes, stay in touch, Bella.'

She hung up, slipped the phone into her pocket and stood at the motel window, looking out at the hot, tropical night. The fronds of the palm trees hung motionless and limp, and the snow-laden fir trees of Lanslebourg seemed so very far away.

She thought about Anton, remembered his eyes of the softest blue and his mouth, so sensual and clearly designed for kissing. She tried to remember exactly what his kisses felt like, but her efforts were ruined by her brother's voice ringing in her ears.

By the way, Gabe says hi
.

‘The country's even drier out here.'

‘It's terrible,' Liz agreed.

‘First job at Mullinjim will be checking the dams and firebreaks.'

They'd been driving through cattle country for hours, past dusty paddocks and rocky red ridges. Everywhere the landscape was parched and thirsty, the creeks shrunk to mere trickles or strings of puddles in wide sandy beds.

Yep, this is definitely the sunburnt country
, Bella thought. And, like Dorothea Mackellar, she couldn't help loving it.

From the moment they'd left Townsville, heading north-west via Charters Towers in a borrowed, rather inappropriate city sedan, Bella had felt totally sentimental about straggly gum trees and barbed wire fences. At the first sight of Brahman cattle – droopy-eared, humped-backed, and silvery-grey – she'd actually been blinking back tears.

Now she and Liz were nearly home. They'd been through the tiny country town of Gidgee Springs where the locals had fussed over them as they'd shopped for essentials, where every shopfront, even the empty ones, brought back a different memory from Bella's past.

And now they were at the Mullinjim turn-off, leaving the bitumen and taking the red dirt road that led beneath a wooden post-and-rail arch bearing the property's name.

The sun was sliding westwards, casting long shadows from the bloodwoods and ironbarks, and softening the dry, dusty paddocks, turning them into fields of beauty. To Bella, every tree, every pale clump of granite rock, every fence post felt familiar.

‘Welcome home,' she said, sending Liz a wobbly smile.

‘And to you, too, Belle.' Liz's voice was tight.

‘Feeling nostalgic after all this time?'

‘I might be, if I wasn't more concerned about this little toy car and whether it's going make it down the track in one piece.'

Even as Liz said this, the car's tyres began to slide on a slippery patch of gravel.

‘Shit.' Bella pulled a guilty face. ‘I guess I'll slow down.'

‘Might be a good idea.'

Bella drove sedately around the next bend, which was probably why she had time to see the tractor working in the distance.

‘What's going on?' she demanded, bringing the car to an abrupt halt.

Liz raised her sunglasses and squinted. ‘Where?'

‘Over there, near the trees.' Bella pointed to a distant cloud of dust. ‘Looks like someone's working with a grader blade. On
our
land.'

‘Maybe Peter organised it and forgot to tell us.'

‘I suppose that's possible.'

The line of trees where the tractor was working marked the border between Mullinjim and Redman Downs, the Mitchells' place.

Which was probably why Bella was instantly tense. She knew she wouldn't be able to avoid Gabe. Her father had actually suggested that she should ask him and their other neighbours for help.

Her dad was trying to protect her, of course, but she wouldn't prove anything by running for help every five minutes.

‘I need to find out what that driver's up to,' she said, ignoring Liz's frown. ‘I'm going to check him out.'

‘It's pretty obvious he's clearing a firebreak, isn't it? He's probably a contractor.'

‘Probably.' For the most part, Mullinjim's internal roads and creeks and gullies served as natural firebreaks, but there were one or two sections on the boundaries that usually needed maintenance. ‘Mum didn't mention him, though.' Bella frowned. ‘Anyway I should know what's going on here.'

‘Up him, Spot. He's not our dog,' Liz responded with a grin.

‘Huh?'

‘It's something your grandfather used to say. Means you're adapting fast, Belle. You're vigilant, like all good property folk, demanding to know who's doing what on
your
land.'

‘Well, it makes sense, doesn't it?'

‘Of course it does.' Still smiling, Liz squinted at the tractor again. ‘But you won't be able to drive across there.'

‘No.' If she was in the ute she'd have no trouble bouncing over the rough paddocks, but this little car would never make it. ‘I'll walk. I won't be long.'

This brought a resigned sigh from Liz.

‘You don't have to come.' Bella was already scrambling out of the car.

‘Don't worry. I don't plan to. I'll stay here in air-conditioned comfort, thanks.' Liz pressed a button on the car radio. ‘I might even listen to a little Classic FM if I can get it out here.'

‘You should be listening to country,' Bella called back over her shoulder. ‘To help you get back in the groove.'

Without waiting to see Liz's reaction she set off across the paddocks, frightening a flock of noisy apostle birds that rose in a chattering, musical cloud.

Wow. How long had it been since she'd heard that sound? She'd almost forgotten how much she loved the bird calls of the bush. She was so busy thinking about other birds – magpies, plovers, corellas – that she was at the halfway point across the paddock before she realised she was marching straight into trouble.

She recognised the man on the tractor.

All too clearly.

Even from a distance of a hundred metres, even though his face was shaded by his Akubra, Bella could identify Gabe's profile. She would know it anywhere – the nose that wasn't too sharp or too fleshy – the square line of his jaw, the extra wide set of his strong shoulders.

A storm of butterflies rose in her stomach.

Too many times she'd fantasised about meeting Gabe again, but she'd always imagined she'd be totally prepared and looking glamorous – immaculately groomed and wearing a cool little number from Paris or London as well as killer high heels. Ideally there would also be a sexy European man on her arm.

Instead she was hot and sticky, dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt with her hair scraped back in a messy knot. No different from the thousands of other times Gabe Mitchell had seen her. And Anton, unfortunately, was on the other side of the world.

She felt sick and she might have turned and hightailed it back to the car, but Gabe had already noticed her.

Gulp.

Bella was so annoyingly hot and bothered she could no longer remember why she'd been so dead-set keen to speak to this guy.

Gabe cut the motor. The dust settled.

Her heart drummed loudly in the sudden silence, but she made herself keep walking towards him and she made herself walk slowly, hoping that at least she looked calm on the outside.

As she drew closer she saw his frown – nothing new there. She kept walking, watching him warily.

Gabe hadn't changed. He still had that special brand of masculine self-assurance that couldn't be manufactured. It was in the easy way he moved – now, swinging down from the tractor with effortless grace. And again now, as he stood with his thumbs tucked in the loops of his jeans, waiting, watching her.

His piercing grey eyes held her in a steady, unsmiling gaze.

In the good old days Gabe had always smiled. His smile had been one of her favourite things about him.

Other memories flooded her . . . the nut-brown sheen of his hair, now hidden by his hat, the taste of his kisses, the smell of his skin, the sexy sureness of his hands . . .

Stop it.

Bella wished she could wipe her suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans, but there was no way she'd let Gabe see she was nervous. Not when he was as calm as a bloody mountain.

‘Bella, how are you?' His eyes burned, but his voice was coolly polite, almost haughty.

Bella swallowed, squeezed out a smile. ‘Really well, thanks, Gabe. And you?'

‘Fine thanks. How's Peter?'

‘Much the same. Still holding on.'

He nodded and after a brief pause. ‘Welcome home.'

Still no smile
.

Bella had never felt more awkward with Gabe. Well, yes, she had felt this bad, actually – on a disastrous night and the days that followed, the time she'd prefer to forget.

‘In case you were wondering,' he said with stiff formality. ‘I've collected your parents' dogs. They're over at our place.'

‘Oh, yes, Mum mentioned that. Thanks. I'll come over and get them tomorrow, if that suits.'

‘Sure.'

She squared her shoulders. ‘So why are you working on Mullinjim land now?'

Gabe shot a glance back over his shoulder at the cleared track behind him. ‘Pretty obvious, isn't it? This section's quite overgrown and––'

‘Did Mum ask you to 'doze firebreaks?'

He turned back to her slowly, his grey eyes still cool. ‘No.'

‘Was it Luke's idea?'

‘No, Bella. Your family's had too much on their plate to worry about this, but there's a high fire danger right now. I thought I'd help out.'

Bella swallowed. ‘That's – very kind of you, Gabe. Much apprec­iated.' She spoke in a brusque, businesslike tone. ‘But don't worry about the rest. I can take over now.'

‘I don't mind––'

‘It's okay, Gabe.' It was almost impossible to hide her tension. ‘I've come home to take charge. I know how to drive all the machinery on Mullinjim. I can take care of any breaks that need slashing on our land.'

He stared at her for the longest time, his jaw tight, but his expression annoyingly unreadable. Finally he shrugged. ‘Please yourself.' After a beat of silence, he added, ‘You always have and I guess nothing's changed.'

With that parting shot he turned and swung back into the tractor, and Bella whirled away too, hurrying and wishing she could run, but knowing it was too undignified. She made do with long, angry strides, smarting and cursing all the way back to the car where she jumped in and slammed the door.

‘Bella, what happened?'

She couldn't answer her aunt.

‘What is it?' Liz persisted. ‘Who is that man?'

‘Gabe Mitchell,' she said finally.

‘Oh?' Liz sounded surprised, which was understandable. ‘Isn't he your neighbour?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, that's okay then. I suppose Gabe's being helpful then – pushing breaks as a favour?'

‘He likes to think so.'

Liz apparently chose to ignore the tartness in Bella's voice. ‘It's very good of him.'

No
, Bella wanted to shout.
He's making out he's doing us a favour, but he's showing me up. It's his favourite pastime
.

‘He thinks he's––' Bella stopped. She really didn't want to talk about Gabe.

Besides, she'd just noticed that Liz's eyes and nose were decidedly pink as if she'd been crying. ‘Liz, are you okay? Have you been worrying about Dad?'

‘Yes,' her aunt sniffed, but then she grimaced guiltily. ‘Actually it's not just Peter. It's that damn country music you told me to listen to. Those songs are so bloody sad. All about breaking up and lonely nights and people making terrible mistakes.'

‘Well, yes. That's what country music's famous for.'

Bella was surprised that the sentimental songs had touched her worldly aunt. ‘I suppose that's why they're so popular,' she said. ‘But you like opera. Isn't that all about tragedy, too?'

‘Opera's different. It's pure melodrama. This music's so down to earth and – I don't know –
personal
.' Liz gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. ‘Don't look at me like that, Bella. I'm only human, after all. If you prick us, do we not bleed?'

Trust Liz to try to cover up with Shakespeare.

As Bella drove on through the darkening bush, she was puzzled by the fact that a simple country singer had reduced her calm, super-sophisticated aunt to tears. What did it mean? Was Liz truly anxious about coming home?

She might have quizzed Liz if she'd felt stronger, but her encounter with Gabe had left her feeling tense and vulnerable, which was the last thing she wanted. If she was to get this job done, she needed to be tough.

It was close to dark by the time they reached the home paddocks. Bella cast a quick eye over the quietly grazing cattle – mostly pregnant heifers and cows with calves, kept close to the house so they could be monitored and more easily fed with supplements.

Finally Liz opened the gate in the purple bougainvillea hedge and Bella drove through to the homestead. She'd been waiting for this for so long, and she wondered, again, what her aunt was feeling after all these years.

But if Liz felt nostalgic, she didn't let on as she stood, stretching her back and letting her gaze travel over the house – a traditional, sprawling Queenslander with wrap-around verandahs, shadowy in the twilight, an iron roof sweeping low.

‘The old place looks a bit tired,' was all she said.

‘The wilted garden doesn't help.' Bella winced at the sight of the brown and shrivelled plants in her mum's beloved garden. Over in the veggie patch, vines had withered and fallen tomatoes lay rotting on the ground. Even the hardy spider lilies that bordered the front steps were struggling in the heat.

‘The house needs a good coat of paint.'

Bella shrugged, slightly annoyed by the implied criticism from her aunt who'd been away for decades. She'd been fighting edginess and a downbeat vibe ever since her conversation with Gabe, and now, for the first time in her life, she was coming home to a dark and silent,
empty
house.

During the whole time she'd been away, whenever she'd thought about this house, she'd envisaged it filled with light and warmth and with the family she loved.

Get over it. You're tough now, remember?

Reaching into the glove box she extracted the heavy set of keys. ‘Let's get our things inside and think about dinner.'

‘I vote we have something easy tonight,' said Liz. ‘I'd be happy with sardines on toast.'

Ewwww!
Bella had been fondly remembering her mum's delicious roast dinners. ‘I don't mind cooking. Mum said the freezer's pretty full.'