Matilda's Last Waltz Part 27

'Nonsense,' she replied firmly. 'You keep them. The dress I had to match is hopelessly out of date, and I'm probably far too old to wear such things any more. Now come on. As the hostess I have to be early, and as you're both ready, you might as well come with me.'

The great barn was almost two miles away from the homestead, and to protect their finery the family drove there. The barn still smelled of hay but had been scrubbed clean for the occasion. Bales had been placed around the room for seating and a bar had been set up by the door. A group of men dressed in American cowboy outfits were tuning their instruments on a make-shift stage, and the rafters had been hung with flags and balloons.

'This all looks familiar,' said Diane. She nodded towards a cl.u.s.ter of young girls sitting eagerly in the corner. 'And so does that. Do you remember how awful it was waiting to be asked to dance?'

Jenny nodded. The memory was all too vivid but in truth she could never remember Diane being a wall flower. They took the gla.s.ses of champagne Andrew served and watched the flood of arrivals. 'He isn't here yet,' murmured Diane. 'But then neither is she.'

Jenny didn't need to be told who her friend was talking about but managed to avoid replying in the applause that greeted James and Helen as they took to the floor to get things under way. There was no time to wonder where Brett was as Charlie grabbed her and twirled her enthusiastically into a polka.

The barn was soon filled with energetic dancing. Jenny was swept away by men she'd never seen before, gripped tightly by youths with hot hands and beer-laden breath who whirled her round and round until she was giddy. Promenaded by grizzled drovers who trod on her feet and looked down her cleavage. She was sweating and exhausted when finally she managed to escape the chaos and collapse on a straw bale to catch her breath.

The attentive Charles was nowhere to be seen and Diane was still careering around the room in the arms of the very handsome drover who'd been the first to ask her to dance. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. Jenny envied her her energy but it was pleasant just sitting here watching the colour and movement of the room.

She was about to take a drink when the gla.s.s was plucked from her hand and she was pulled to her feet. 'Charlie, I can't.' Her protest died as Brett drew her into his arms.

'It's a slow one, but I can't guarantee not to step on your toes,' he yelled above the noise.

Jenny moved into his arms as if in a trance. She could feel the heat of him through his shirt, feel the palm of his hand, hot and steady, on her back. Somehow it enhanced the excitement of the moment made Charlie's expert but clinical approach to dancing a distant memory. For despite all her denials, this was what she'd been waiting for. She relaxed into his arms and closed her eyes.

The band was very good and had begun a medley of country and western favourites. Broken dreams, broken hearts, broken promises the lyrics might have been sad, but as she danced within his embrace, she realised she hadn't felt this happy in a long while.

'You look real nice, Jenny,' he said into her hair.

She looked up into his grey eyes and knew he meant the compliment. 'Thanks. And well done for winning King of the Hill.'

'Fourth year running,' he said proudly.' But I reckon this is better.'

'Do you?'

He nodded. 'I told you earlier things weren't as they seemed. Lorraine and I are finished.'

She eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, decided not to let doubts spoil the evening, and let him sweep her into the fast polka that followed the waltz. Finally she had to plead with him to stop. 'I'm too hot and my feet hurt,' she said with a rueful laugh. 'Can we sit this one out?'

He took her back to the hay bale. 'I reckon we could both do with a drink,' he yelled above the noise. 'Promise you won't go away?'

Jenny felt childishly pleased that he wanted to be with her, and nodded. Then she watched him manoeuvre through the dancing couples to the bar and felt suddenly very alone.

'Reckon you must be the belle of the ball, Mrs Sanders.'

Jenny hadn't heard him approach but then his wheelchair was silent on the wooden floor. They eyed each other in silence an oasis of mutual dislike and curiosity in a sea of colour and noise.

'Matilda was too grand for this sort of thing. Hid herself away with her black fellers and refused all invitations.'

'Perhaps she had more on her mind than country dances,' replied Jenny coolly. She had a sharp image of Matilda at her one and only dance, and shuddered. People could be so cruel.

Ethan leaned forward in his wheelchair, bony fingers gripping her wrist. 'Charlie wanted her to marry him, you know. But I didn't reckon she was good enough for him. What do you think of that?'

'Perhaps she was relieved. He probably wasn't in love with her anyway.'

He let her go and grimaced disdainfully. 'Love,' he spat. 'That's all you stupid women think about. It's the land that's king here, Mrs Sanders. It rules us all.'

'It seems to have made you very bitter, Mr Squires. Why is that, I wonder?'

The hooded eyes slid away as he pretended he hadn't heard. When he looked back, his face was as composed and shuttered as a house in a dust storm. 'You thinking of staying on at Churinga?' he asked abruptly.

She was cool as she looked back at him. 'I don't know. Why?'

'I'll give you a fair price for it. Kurrajong's expanding into the horse breeding business. Churinga would make a good stud farm.'

Brett had arrived with their drinks and Jenny stood up, glad of the excuse to be rid of the old man's company. 'Andrew has already approached me with an offer. I turned him down. Perhaps if you tell me the real reason it's so important for you to have Churinga, I might reconsider.'

He remained silent, eyes boring into hers for endless seconds before he turned away.

'You didn't mean that did you about reconsidering?' Brett's smile had disappeared and there was a frown between his brows.

She smiled as she took the drink from him. 'No. But he doesn't know that.'

It was almost four in the morning and the party was still going strong. Diane had disappeared into the night with her drover, Brett had been dragged off protesting by his mates to join in a particularly energetic reel which seemed to go on forever, and Jenny was exhausted. Her feet hurt, she'd drunk too much champagne, and Charlie's relentless pursuit was beginning to pall. It didn't look as if Brett would be driving her back to the homestead as she'd hoped either. With a sigh, she took a last look at the swirling dancers and left the barn.

The night was cool, the sky a pale velvet lilac in the hour before dawn, and as the noise from the barn faded into the distance, she took off her shoes and enjoyed the feel of the dry earth between her toes. The long walk home would give her time to clear her head and to h.o.a.rd the precious time she'd spent with Brett.

The house was almost deserted, the lights streaming from windows into the gloom like homing beacons. She danced up the stairs singing. It had been the most wonderful night now she could look forward to tomorrow.

Jenny woke five hours later. Diane must have crept in sometime earlier for she was sprawled on the bed beside her, dress rucked up around her hips. Ripper wagged his tail hopefully.

'Let me wash and dress first then I'll take you out before we go home,' whispered Jenny. The thought of Churinga spurred her on. Churinga and Brett. They had become the two most important things in her new life and she was at last looking forward to a future.

Leaving Diane to sleep, she hurried downstairs and stepped out on to the verandah. The business of the day was already under way, with horses and men moving about the yard, and the smell of bacon wafting from the kitchen. She let Ripper off his leash to go rooting in the shrubbery and breathed in the heady mixture of dust and bougainvillaea. It was going to be another hot day, with no hint of the rain they all so badly needed.

Her gaze trawled the yard and drifted over to the bungalow that Brett and the foreman had shared for the last few days. She wondered if he was already on his way back to Churinga or if he was still somewhere on Kurrajong. Then she caught a glimpse of something moving in the deep shadows that surrounded the bungalow and hope died.

For there was Lorraine. Shoes in hand, hair tangled and make-up smeared, creeping through the door.

Jenny hadn't realised she'd moved off the verandah until she found herself halfway across the yard. I mustn't jump to conclusions, she told herself firmly. Lorraine had probably been with the foreman or was even making her way back from one of the visitors' wagons that had been parked behind the shearer's bungalows. It could just have been a trick of the light.

'G'day. That was some party, eh?' Lorraine balanced on one foot as she struggled into her shoes. She tried to bring order to her mussed hair and finally gave up with a knowing grin. 'Don't expect Brett to show too early at Churinga. He's had a heavy night.' She winked, 'If you know what I mean.'

Jenny's breath was sharp, and she rammed her fists into her pockets before she was tempted to grab Lorraine's bed-bedraggled hair and give it a good tug. She would not let this tart see how painful her words had been. 'I have no idea what you're talking about,' she said haughtily. 'And what were you doing in the foreman's bungalow? It's out of bounds as you well know.'

Lorraine laughed. 'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, you sound just like my old school teacher.' Her expression hardened and one bright red nail jabbed the air between them. 'Look here, Mrs High and Mighty. This ain't your place and I'll flaming go where I flaming want.' She tossed her head and with one last defiant sneer delivered her departing blow. 'Brett said I could stay so why don't you take it up with him?'

Jenny watched her climb into a battered utility and roar off the property before turning back to the house. She raced upstairs and slammed her way into the bedroom. 'Get up, Diane. We're going home.'

Diane's bleary eyes were smudged with make-up and her hair drifted over her face. 'What's going on?' she mumbled.

Jenny began to pack her bag with ruthless efficiency. 'It's that b.l.o.o.d.y, b.l.o.o.d.y man,' she swore as she fought to keep the tears at bay. 'You'll never guess what he's done now.'

Diane yawned and stretched. 'I couldn't even begin to try. Can't we at least have coffee before we go?' she whined. 'My mouth tastes horrible.'

'No, we can't,' hissed Jenny. 'The sooner I get back to Churinga the better. I've made a complete fool of myself. It's time I finished the diaries then got back to Sydney.'

She slammed drawers and crammed underwear into the bag. 'Lorraine's welcome to Brett, and Squires is welcome to Churinga,' she said gruffly. 'And you,' she said sternly to the little dog, 'will have to get used to lamp posts.'

Chapter Sixteen.

Diane remained silent as she drove towards Churinga. Jenny was obviously in no mood to talk, and experience told her it was best to let her friend stew for a while. She would explain everything eventually she always did. Yet it was frustrating to have to wait, and the lack of sleep and coffee did nothing to ease this frustration.

Diane clung grimly to the steering wheel as she negotiated the barely discernible road and wished she was back in the city. Not that she couldn't appreciate the primitive beauty of the place, she admitted as she watched a lone hawk float effortlessly above the scrub, but she'd got used to proper roads and shops, and having neighbours that weren't several hundreds of miles away.

Lighting a cigarette, she glanced across at Jenny who was staring out of the window. If only she would explain why they had to make this mad dash for Churinga. What the h.e.l.l had happened between her and Brett to make her so angry?

The silence was suddenly unbearable. 'I don't know how you can even think about living out here, Jen. There's nothing to see but earth and sky.'

Jenny turned her head, eyes wide with amazement. 'Nothing to see? Are you mad? Look at the colours, at the way the horizon shimmers and the gra.s.s ripples like molten silver.'

Diane felt a quiet satisfaction. She'd known Jenny couldn't resist defending the primal beauty of the place. 'I suppose it has a certain rugged charm,' she said nonchalantly. 'But all this s.p.a.ce is claustrophobic.'

'You're talking in riddles, Diane.'

She smiled. 'Not really. Think about it, Jen. Here we have thousands of miles of nothing, and in the middle of that nothing a bunch of people isolated in small pockets. That's where the claustrophobia comes in.'

'Go on.'

Diane glanced at her. She could see Jenny was getting the point but there was no harm in expanding upon it. 'These people live and work in tiny communities. They stay in touch through the radio and now and again meet each other at the local dance, or parties, or picnic races. Always the same faces, the same topic of conversation, the same old rivalries.'

'It's like that everywhere,' Jenny interrupted.

'Not really. Sydney's a big place, with a lot of people who don't know each other. It's easy to move and start again, to change your job and make new friends. There are other things to occupy the mind, boredom doesn't set in quite so firmly. Out here there's nothing but sheep and land. The isolation brings people together because they need that human contact, but with that contact comes gossip and the fuelling of old rivalries. It must be almost impossible to escape. These people rarely move on especially the squatters. They have an intimate knowledge of each other through gossip and intermarriage. Loyalties are cast iron. Make an enemy out here, and you make a dozen.'

Jenny stared out of the window. 'I think you're exaggerating, Diane. There's plenty of s.p.a.ce for everyone, and if a person wants, they need never leave home.'

'Okay. But that home is filled with people who have their own set of loyalties, their own rivalries and grudges. What if you don't get on with them? Find their manners boorish, their habits repellent? It's almost guaranteed you'll see them at least once a week. There's nothing you can do to avoid it they live and work on your land. Are part of the small community that makes up the station.'

Jenny was silent for a long moment, then turned to face her friend. 'I know what you're getting at and I realise you're only trying to help. But this is something I have to deal with, Diane. So drop it.'

Trevor whined up a steep slope as Diane crunched the gears. 'What happened between you and Brett?'

'Nothing.'

'Don't give me that! I saw the way you looked at each other. You were positively blooming.'

'Then you're as blind as I am,' retorted Jenny. 'Brett may be charming company but he and Charlie are two of a kind just out for what they can get.'

'Where does Charlie come into all this?'

'He doesn't. Not really. He's good company, that's all, but his charm can't hide the fact he's after Churinga. And so's Brett.'

Diane frowned. 'How do you know that?'

'Because he more or less said so,' Jenny replied with exasperation. 'It's all he's worried about since I arrived. Pestering me about my plans, following me around trying to convince me not to sell.'

'I think you're being a little harsh on him, Jen. He seemed genuine enough when I met him, and he obviously thinks a great deal of you.'

'Hmph. Cares so much that after whispering sweet nothings in my ear, he spends the night with Lorraine.'

Diane almost lost control of the camper as her concentration wavered, and the wheels jolted into a particularly steep rut. 'Do you know that for a fact?'

'I saw her leave his bungalow this morning. She was only too pleased to make it clear that she and Brett had spent a very energetic night together, and by the looks of her she wasn't lying.' Jenny's voice was sharp.

Diane was puzzled. Her instincts had failed her for once. She'd been so sure he was as smitten with Jenny as she obviously was with him. So sure Lorraine posed little or no threat. No wonder Jen had been upset this morning.

'I'm sorry it didn't work out,' she said softly. 'I thought...'

'Well, you thought wrong.' Jenny straightened in the seat, arms folded tightly around her as if to ward off further probing. 'I should have had more b.l.o.o.d.y sense than to fall for the first handsome man who strung me a line. I don't know what possessed me.'

'Loneliness?' We all need someone in our lives, Jen. It's been a year. Time to begin again.'

'That's rubbish and you know it,' she said firmly. 'I'm perfectly happy with my own company. The last thing I need is a man cluttering up my life.'

'That's what I thought,' said Diane wryly. 'But since Rufus went back to England, I've found I've missed him more than I'd have thought possible.' She was aware of Jenny's long stare and kept her eyes on the road ahead. 'That's not to say I won't get over him. We all do that eventually,' she said with a lightness she didn't feel.

Jenny was silent for a long moment. 'In my case, it's more a question of hurt pride,' she said finally. 'I suppose I was flattered, and in my vulnerable state easily fooled and that's what makes me so mad.'

Diane nodded in sympathy. 'Better to get mad than skulk away and lick your wounds. But if you want to restore that pride, you'll have to face Brett again before you leave.'

'I know,' Jenny replied firmly. 'And the sooner the better.'

Diane wasn't fooled by the brittle veneer. She knew Jenny too well.

Brett was puzzled by Jenny's early disappearance from Kurrajong. He'd wanted to explain that he'd fully intended to take her home from the dance but by the time he'd managed to get away from his mates she'd already left the barn. Coupled with a blinding headache, his frustration that morning was heightened by the men's reluctance to leave their beds and head for Churinga.

His patience almost ran out when he discovered two of the Aboriginal boys had gone walkabout, and one of the horses had cast a shoe. He'd had to wait for the Kurrajong farrier to fit another one, and in the time it took to do that, the men had sloped off and it took a further half hour to round them all up again. Eventually he'd managed to get everyone loaded into the trucks, and now, as the sun began to set behind Tjuringa mountain, the ragged caravan was on the final leg of their journey.

He breathed a sigh of contentment as the homestead came into view. The hippy bus was parked by the front steps, Jenny was at home. Yet by the time he'd seen to the horses and dispensed the orders for the next day night had fallen and the lights had come on in the bedrooms. It was too late to visit, he realised, and although he longed to see her, he knew he would have to wait until morning.

He slept well, dreaming of violet eyes and a dress that reminded him of the ocean. As the first rays of light touched his face he leaped out of bed. Within half an hour he was walking across the flattened earth of the yard, his pulse racing as he caught sight of her on the verandah.

Jenny hadn't seen him yet, and he took those few moments to study her. She looked good, even in those old jeans and faded shirt. Her hair was the colour of his chestnut gelding, and as she strolled along the verandah, its copper light caught the early sun. The warm memory of her dancing in his arms made him smile, and brought a lightness to his step that had been missing for too long.