Hope's Road (15 page)

After a while, Billy's attention was distracted from the heavens by a glint of water in Backwater Creek. ‘Why is that thing there, Mr McCauley?' He was pointing to the slabs of bark that you could vaguely see in the moonlight.

‘Ah, that's the remains of old Cec's hut.' At Billy's interested look, Joe went on. ‘He was a prospector years and years ago, before I was even born, hunting for gold in these hills. Looking for a pocketful of gold and a handful of hope.'

‘Is that why our road's called Hope's Road?'

Joe stared out across the flats, contemplating his answer for a few seconds. That was a loaded question even if the boy didn't know it. ‘Yep. We're all looking for it in one way or another I guess.'

They took more turns peering through the eye-piece up at the sky again until it was Joe's go with the telescope. He swung it back to earth, just for a few minutes while Billy was distracted by Digger gnawing on a bone.

The scope brought Montmorency Downs into his sights. The old diesel ute of Hunter's sat hard-up against Tammy's vehicle. It looked good, Joe thought. Like it was supposed to be there. Not like that other solid yet slightly tizzy number – it was a townie's car, for sure. Must be Dean Gibson's. Nice enough bloke, but a bit wussy. And Joe didn't just mean the car.

The telescope swung to the back door, where all the action appeared to be happening. The car went with the shirt Gibson was wearing. Joe could see sloping shoulders wearing a solid patch of garish colours. Even
he
wouldn't be seen dead in that get-up.

He moved the scope over Gibson's head – and sucked in his breath. Holy Lord. She was as beautiful as her grandmother. Shoulder-length brunette hair feathered around a sweetheart face, long aristocratic nose, high cheekbones, deep brown eyes. There had to be French versus Egyptian somewhere in the Rouget genetic lineage.

And for fuck's sake, look at that dress! It barely covered her bottom. He went to rise out of his chair in indignation, landed back down with a thud. Holy hell, that hurt.

He returned the telescope to his eye, refocused it on the old homestead once more. Gibson was gone, down the path towards his flash car. And Travis Hunter was now standing there, his shoulders square. He was talking. Then he was leaning forwards. Moving in. Then he was kissing Joe McCauley's great-niece right at her own door.

Joe sat back in his chair, telescope dropped to his knees. Oh, my aunt's
fanny
!

Chapter 23

Lucy Granger was perched on a concrete planter box, her hair a mess of multi-coloured hot-roller-assisted curls as the foursome pulled up outside the pub.

‘Geez, I thought you were never going to get here!' She bounced up to Tammy. ‘C'mon. All the seafood will be gone! Joanne's so tight-fisted she never lets the chef order enough.'

Then Lucy took in her best friend's outfit. She slowly let out a wolf-whistle. ‘Holy crap, Tammy. You look unreal. Totally hot!' She spun to Trav who was standing behind her. ‘Doesn't she look hot? Man, if I felt like some time on the other team . . .'

‘Well, luckily you don't,' said Dean, coming around the car bonnet and taking Tammy's hand. ‘Do you?'

‘Well . . .' said Lucy looking thoughtful. ‘It's an idea. I wasn't able to rustle up a date for tonight, not one under the age of seventy anyway. In fact, Dean, I've had some very . . . interesting . . . relationships in my life. I don't like to label myself either way.'

Tammy rolled her eyes. She'd heard Lucy's tales of university experimentation, though she wasn't entirely sure how far to believe them.

‘C'mon,' said Cin, for a change looking demure in a black cocktail dress with a simple Jacqueline Kennedy cut. She stood, smoothing the car creases out of the knee-length frock. ‘I want a salt and pepper calamari and it'll all be gone if we don't hurry up.'

‘That's what I was just saying,' grumbled Lucy. ‘No one ever listens to me.'

Tammy disentangled herself from Dean and threw her arm around her best mate, dragging Lucy towards the pub lounge door. ‘Of course we do.' Then she whispered, ‘You can have my date if you want.'

Lucy laughed as she slung a look back across her shoulder at a disgruntled Dean standing with Cin on the grass verge. ‘No way, Jose. That shirt is god-awful, not to mention the pleated pants. What was he thinking?'

‘Not much, obviously.'

‘Well, he's hardly likely to attract a woman in that get-up. Hunter, on the other-hand . . .' Lucy paused on the hotel doorstep, checking they were still alone. ‘In my next life I'm going to come back as a wild dog. To be caught by a man like Travis Hunter would be,' Lucy's eyes turned dreamy, ‘incredible. Totally amazing. But, I'm dreaming . . . and besides, he's too much the strong silent type for me.'

Lucy's grin slipped as she moved in for a better look at the flush claiming Tammy's face. ‘Oh, my aunt's
fann
y! You like Travis Hunter? You want the dog trapper, don't you?'

‘Him? What utter nonsense!' Tammy flapped her hands in the air in agitation. ‘C'mon, let's go get you some poor dead marine creature.' She moved to drag Lucy through the lounge door to distract her somehow. ‘And remember I'm relying on you to give me some protection from that bitch behind the bar.'

Lucy stopped again, her face serious. ‘You sure you want to do this? We could go somewhere else?'

‘Like where?'

‘Oh, I don't know. The roadhouse for a sausage roll? The corner store for fish and chips?'

‘Go raid some of the yabby nets the kids throw into the lake? Cook the muddy suckers on the barbecue in the APEX park?' finished Tammy.

‘Muddy suckers? The kids or the yabbies?' asked Lucy, grinning.

Tammy winked. ‘It'd have to be the kids. I can't stand crustaceans.' They both laughed before she went on, ‘No. It's fine. I've got to face Shon and Joanne together some time. May as well be now.'

‘You sure?'

‘Of course I'm sure.'
Not.
Tammy tried to soothe her thumping heart and plaster on a reassuring smile. ‘Let's get some tucker and then go find a party.'

As it turned out, neither Joanne nor Shon were to be seen in the Lake Grace Hotel.

‘Must have the night off,' whispered Lucy later after she'd consumed a whole basket of prawns.

Tammy's chicken Maryland still sat on its plate, barely touched. ‘Yeah, probably ensconced in a lovers' boudoir in Lakes Entrance or Batemans Bay,' she muttered back.

‘Come along, kiddies,' called Dean from the other side of Tammy. ‘We've got a dance to attend and it's now eight-thirty-five by my watch. We're running late.'

‘Oooo, yes!' Cin clapped her hands and bounced in her seat. The creamy strands of pearls that covered any sign of her bosom slapped up and down.

‘Doesn't he know you never get to these things on time?' Lucy murmured. ‘This is the bush. Dairy farmers are
always
late!'

This time Trav answered. ‘Don't think “late” is in old Deano's vocabulary.'

Tammy looked across at him. He had barely said a thing all night, preferring to just stare at her every now and then.

‘C'mon, Tammy,' said Dean, catching her under the elbow and lifting her up out of the chair. ‘Let's get this show on the road. Although . . .' He frowned down at Tammy's plate. ‘I don't see how you're going to have any energy to dance. You didn't eat a thing!'

‘You know women these days, Deano,' said Trav, moving to Tammy's other side. ‘Always worried about their figure.' Then he turned to her, his half-smile and azure eyes seeming to say, ‘But you don't need to.'

The music was just cranking up when they arrived. Barely a dozen cars were parked outside the hall. ‘That's weird,' said Dean looking around. ‘Everyone I spoke to in Lake Grace this week said they were coming.'

‘They'll get here,' said Lucy, rolling her eyes towards Tammy. ‘
Eventually
 . . .'

The group lined up at the old-fashioned ticket-box just inside the entrance vestibule. Beatrice Parker took their money. ‘Nice to see you all here,' she said with a cagey smile. ‘Who is with whom?'

Dean grabbed Tammy's arm again. ‘This gorgeous woman is my date for tonight.'

Tammy tried surreptitiously to wriggle out of his clasp but to no avail. Deano held on tight.

‘Oooo . . . and this handsome fella is mine!' cried Cin, grabbing Trav's hand.

But Beatrice wasn't paying any attention to Cin. Her disapproving eyes were on Tammy's dress. Her gaze didn't have to travel far to look the scrap of material over. Tammy tried to pull the skirt down, which in turn pulled the already low-cut top in the same direction. Inwardly she cursed herself yet again for buying the damn frock.

‘Mrs Parker? Earth to Mrs Parker?'

Beatrice tore her eyes from Tammy to stare at Lucy, who was waving her fingers in front of the old lady's face. ‘You wouldn't happen to know of an available woman willing to try out being a lesbian?'

‘I
beg
your pardon, Ms Granger?' said Beatrice, now completely distracted from Tammy. ‘Did you say
lesbian
?'

‘Oh no, Mrs Parker,' Trav interrupted. ‘She said thespian. She's giving away pole-dancing for the dramatic arts. C'mon, Granger.' He grabbed Lucy with one hand and Cin with the other and towed them into the main hall. Tammy and Dean shrugged at a skeptical-looking Mrs Parker and moved quickly to follow the others.

‘I would have sworn that Granger girl said lesbian,' the old woman muttered to herself. ‘And as for that dress on Tammy McCauley! She's turning into a hussy, just like her grandmother.'

Tammy, who'd heard it all, walked quickly away.

Slowly more and more people started to arrive at the hall until the dance floor, which encompassed the whole centre of the old rectangle weatherboard building, was jammed with bodies. Some were dancing ballroom style, fox-trotting around the edges. Others were just shaking their limbs to the raucous music that was getting louder and louder as voices rose in competition.

Tammy hadn't lacked for partners. Every dance, someone plonked himself in front of her and asked for a turn on the floor. Neighbouring dairy farmers, old friends of her granddad's, tradies from town. She was aware of Dean getting more and more disgruntled as once again she was carted away by another partner. ‘Next one's for you, Dean,' she called as Rob Sellers took a drink from her hand and dragged her along with him to swing to the Pride of Erin. Dean's grimace was her answer.

One of the few men in the hall who hadn't offered to dance with her was Travis Hunter. And Tammy was surprised at how much that hurt. She had been aware of him the whole night, knew exactly where he was at any given time. She was so
attuned
to the man – it was both startling and disconcerting. She didn't need to be mooning over the dog trapper and found herself getting more and more annoyed by how much time her mind devoted to tracking his every move.

Finally she ended up on the dance floor in the arms of Dean Gibson. The man was courteous, kind and had great rhythm, but there was one huge problem. She didn't feel in the least bit attracted to him. In fact the scent of his mouthwash was a real turn-off, as were the sweaty hands sitting hesitantly on her waist. Then there was the musty smell coming from that damn shirt. Every time Deano tried to pull her in close she backed away. It became almost a duel of strength, one which Dean eventually won. Tammy suddenly found herself hard up against the paramedic's chest, his arm around her waist, hand moving up to caress her back. She tried to move away but found she couldn't.

‘Excuse me, may I cut in?' The voice came from close to Tammy's left ear. Startled, she swung around, causing her partner to lose his grip. She was just in time to see Trav deftly slip in and shoulder a scowling Dean out of the way.

‘Thanks, Deano,' he said. And then she was away, being twirled across the floor with surprising grace. The dance was a fast foxtrot and, as she was whizzed around the corner, she was shocked by how different Travis's hands felt to Dean's.

The grip on her waist was firm and sure. He held her body just slightly distant from him, far enough away to look down into her face, near enough to feel intimate. His vivid blue eyes were alight with humour and mischief. ‘Don't think I'm the most popular man with old Deano at the moment.' He gave a wicked grin. ‘You dance well, Ms McCauley.' He swung her around another corner, pausing to flick her under his arm, before pulling her back in close in a classic ballroom dance pose.

‘And you too,' said Tammy. She was surprised at his dexterity on the dance floor. ‘Who taught you to move so well on your feet? Those wild dogs up on that fence?'

‘Nope. My mother. She made me take ballroom dancing lessons. A dance teacher was in town for a while when I was at school and I think Mum figured it might give me some culture.'

‘And did it?'

‘Nope. Just made me more nimble on my feet – good for avoiding a flogging.'

Tammy laughed softly. This man was
good
.

Suddenly the music changed to a more melancholy song. It was slow and intimate, with every note dipped in romance. The tune and lyrics thrummed with the need to pull a loved one closer and the couples moving around them slowly came together.