Matilda's Last Waltz Part 36

Matilda felt a flutter of awe. He looked so handsome in his suit, his dark hair damply curling around his ears and over his forehead, and she loved him deeply and yet that still, small voice reminded her of the promise she made herself when he proposed.

'For as long as it lasts,' she muttered. 'Please let it be forever.'

The creaking organ was being thumped enthusiastically and Matilda suddenly wished she'd asked one of the men to escort her down the aisle. But it was too late now. She had been on her own for so many years, what was a few steps more towards a much brighter future?

She took a firmer grasp of the bouquet and with a deep intake of breath, walked towards Finn.

The service pa.s.sed in a kaleidoscope of incense and flowers, of Finn's deep baritone and mesmeric eyes. Finally the ring was on her finger and her new husband was looking down at her with such pride she felt like crying from sheer joy.

Finn had arranged for their wedding breakfast to be held in the hotel. As they left the church to cross the street, Matilda was bewildered by the size of the crowd who'd come to watch.

Don't mind them,' he whispered, taking her hand and nestling it in the crook of his arm. 'They haven't seen such a beauty before.'

She shot a glance at the curious faces, the mouths moving behind hands and the sly smiles and knew their reason for coming was very different. But for Finn's sake she kept silent.

The hotel had been decorated especially for the occasion with banners and balloons and tables groaning with food. There was even a three-piece band of violin, piano and ba.s.s. Finn held out his hand and led her on to the tiny square of dance floor.

'Come waltz with me, Matilda,' he said with a grin as the band struck up the Banjo Paterson tune.

She laughed and stepped into his arms. 'Forever,' she whispered.

Two hours later they had cut the cake, changed into their travelling clothes, and were sneaking out of the back door of the pub.

'No one will notice,' insisted Finn. 'I gave the landlord enough money to keep those blokes in beer for at least another hour or so, and by that time we'll be long gone.'

'Where are we going exactly?' laughed Matilda, as she climbed into the utility. 'You've been so secretive.'

He tapped his nose. 'It's a surprise,' was all he would say.

She didn't mind where they ended up so long as they were together. She sat beside him in the ute, her head resting against his arm as he drove towards Dubbo.

The light was fading as they reached the airfield but still Finn refused to tell her his secret destination as he helped her up the steps of the light aircraft and buckled her into her seat.

'What's going on, Finn?' she laughed uneasily. She had never seen a plane this close before, let alone been in one. 'You aren't kidnapping me, are you?'

He rained kisses on her face. 'Too right, Mrs McCauley. Just you wait and see.'

The propellers whined, the plane rocked and they were tearing down the runway. Matilda gripped the arms of the seat as they took off into the sky. Then she let the breath escape and stared in wonder at the earth beneath them.

'I always knew it was beautiful, Finn, but I never realised how grand it was. Look at that mountain, and that stand of trees by the lake.'

He smiled as he took her hand and folded it between his own. 'From now on, Mrs McCauley, you will see things and visit places you have only dreamed about. I want you to enjoy life again, to have all the things you ever wanted.'

She stared at him. Where was the woman who was tough and rough and could swear and shout as well as any man? Where was that hard little woman who'd ridden out with the mob and kept Churinga going through the war years? She had melted away, Matilda realised. Grown soft and feminine. And all because of this man who'd shown her what love could be.

She sighed happily. Life was taking on a new meaning, and she meant to experience every last wonderful second of it.

They landed in Melbourne. After a s.n.a.t.c.hed evening meal, he took the cases and dragged them out to catch a taxi. 'We aren't staying here, Molly. But I promise you that before tomorrow morning, we can begin our honeymoon.'

'Enough, Finn McCauley,' she said, trying to keep a straight face. 'I'm not going any further until you explain just where we're going.'

He slammed the taxi door and waved the tickets in her face. 'We're off to Ta.s.sie,' he said with a grin.

She couldn't find the words to express her surprise.

Finn hugged her, and as she leaned into him, kissed the top of her head. 'You let me into your past. Now it's my turn. I want to show you what a beautiful place Ta.s.sie is, and share it with you.'

The Melbourne docks were bustling as the taxi weaved its way around the giant stacks of freight, and the heavy machinery. The Tasmanian Princess was gently tugging against her moorings. As Finn took her elbow and steered her through the pa.s.senger terminal, Matilda looked up and up in awe. Painted blue and white, with a vast funnel emblazoned with the Australian flag, the ship's decks were alive with the colour and jostle of her many pa.s.sengers.

'I booked one of their largest cabins,' Finn murmured as they followed a seaman along the narrow corridors. 'I just hope you like it.'

Matilda waited as the seaman unlocked the door and dropped their cases inside. The man smiled, touched his hat and pocketed his tip. Then Finn turned to her and swept her off her feet.

'This might not be the threshold of Churinga or Wilga, but it's our home for the next twelve hours.'

She put her arms around his neck and nuzzled close as other pa.s.sengers eyed them with knowing looks. She was nervous and excited and knew she was blushing furiously but how safe she felt in his arms, how certain she had done the right thing.

Finn carried her into the cabin and kicked the door shut behind him. He held her close, the rapid thud of his heart echoing her own. His eyes were dark as he bent his head and his mouth was soft but urgent against her lips.

Matilda clung to him, half afraid of what was to come, half impatient, and when he slowly set her back on her feet, she felt an ache of disappointment.

'I'll leave you to freshen up, Matilda,' he said softly. 'The bar's not too far away, and I won't be long.'

She wanted him to stay, wanted to tell him she didn't care about wedding night convention but a tremor of doubt forbade it. When the door clicked behind him, she stood there for a long moment staring at it. The memory of Mervyn was suddenly very powerful in that flower-filled room. She thought she could feel the rasp of his hands and hear his breath.

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off his presence. What if s.e.x with Finn should bring back the horror of that time? What if she didn't please her new husband and found she couldn't give him what he wanted?

'Oh, Finn,' she sobbed into her hands. 'What have I done?'

'Molly?' His voice was soft as his arms held her close. 'I should never have left you. I'm sorry.'

She hadn't heard him come back. She looked up at him through her tears. He put a finger against her lips.

'Shhh, my darling, I know. And I understand.' He kissed her, softly, fleetingly, and as her arms curled around his neck, the kiss became deeper.

Matilda felt the presence of Mervyn fade into obscurity as Finn's gentle hands cupped her face and stroked the column of her neck. Now she understood how the wild colts must feel as he gentled them. How could she ever compare this languorous love-making to the violence of her first experience?

Finn kissed her neck and the hollow at her throat, tracing liquid fire with his tongue. His hands moved over her, arousing a tidal wave of yearning that seemed to have an endless height and depth that was beyond her reach and when her dress fell in a slither of silk at her feet, she arched her back and gave herself up to the electricity of his hands on her skin.

His flesh was taut, the clean, firm lines running beneath her fingers like the softest of leather. She tasted the salt of his sweat, breathed in the earthy, manly smell of him, and buried her fingers in the tight curls on his broad chest.

Dark hair feathered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as he softly kissed her belly and caressed her hips. She cried out as his tongue scorched a trail of fire along the inside of her thighs.

The outside world ceased to exist as she was swept up in a whirlwind of sensations. She wanted to consume him, to be consumed by him. As he moved over her and slowly entered her, she wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him deeper until they were fused in joyous communion. Flesh against flesh, sweat mingling, breath shared, they rode the riptide until it broke.

Matilda lay in the curve of his arm, as sensuous and languorous as a cat in the sunshine. She arched into him as he ran his hand down her spine and followed the valley of her waist and the hill of her hip. Even now, in the afterglow of his lovemaking, his hands could arouse her.

'I love you, Mrs McCauley,' he whispered.

Matilda's first sight of Tasmania astounded her. She hadn't really given much thought to this seventh state, and had only looked it up in an old atlas after Finn's arrival on Wilga, but now, as she stood on the deck, she realised that the tiny dot on the atlas had no bearing on the mountainous sprawl on the horizon.

Devonport was a sleepy port with a town that nestled between the Mersey River and the Ba.s.s Strait. Black rocks and yellow sand fringed the sh.o.r.es where green swathes of gra.s.s were sheltered by leafy trees, and little wooden houses perched on the hillside and in the valleys.

There was colour everywhere in the bright flowers, the shingled roofs and verdant lawns, and Matilda would quite happily have stayed here. But Finn had his own agenda, and she too was keen to see the place where he'd been brought up, so they hired a car and headed south.

Meander was in the middle of nowhere and reminded her of home. And yet the distances between properties were much less, the gra.s.s a little greener, the colours softer. What she missed were the flocks of birds, the jarring calls of the parrakeets and galahs, the laughter of the kookaburra.

Finn showed her the little wooden house that sat perched on a low hill surrounded by acres of gra.s.sland. It seemed too small for the large family that lived there now and she wondered why they didn't build on to it.

'Probably got no money,' Finn explained. 'Most of Ta.s.sie's landowners are money poor and land rich. They have no idea of the worth of some of their handed down heirlooms because all they care about is the land.'

He smiled down at her. 'Rather like their counterparts in New South Wales.'

'Not all of them,' she said in mock severity. 'I know exactly what I'm worth, and I don't plan on ever being poor again.'

He laughed and held her for a moment. 'Come on. I'll show you my old school.'

They visited the one-room school house, the secret hideaways that all boys seemed to have when they were small, and the little town twenty miles away where he showed her the cinema and the ice-cream parlour and the long sandy cove where he remembered swimming in the icy sea.

Parts of Tasmania were very different from the parched outback and Matilda sometimes found it hard to remember this was all part of the same country. Here the gra.s.s was lush and mostly green. Great mountains soared on all sides, and lakes as big as the ocean sprawled in majestic swathes in the valleys. Trees grew crisp red apples and soft fruit, and fields of lavender and poppies swayed in the warm wind.

Rocky crags guarded the south-eastern coast, with perilous cliffs overshadowing stretches of sand so white they hurt the eyes. Waterfalls plummeted hundreds of feet into jungle valleys. Quiet secluded bays buzzing with insects, drowsy with heat, were the perfect hideaway for lovers to swim and lie in the sun. Pine and eucalyptus forests spread as far as the eye could see. The curious Tasmanian devil, platypus and wombat were shy creatures, only seen if the watcher had endless patience and knew where to look.

Matilda and Finn spent two weeks exploring the island, taking the time to laze in the sun and swim in the chill waters. They visited Hobart and climbed Mount Wellington, toured the market on the waterfront and went sailing around the tiny islands. In the evenings they ate delicious crayfish or rainbow trout, washed down with gla.s.ses of fine wine that had come from the fledgling vineyards at Moorilla.

At night she lay in his arms, drowsy with their lovemaking, sated and content. Never, in her wildest dreams, could she have imagined a more perfect honeymoon.

'I wish we could stay longer,' Matilda said wistfully as the plane swept from the tiny runway.

Finn took her hand and squeezed it. 'I promise to bring you back before we're both old and grey.' he said, then smiled. 'It will be our own special place.'

They finally arrived back at Churinga to find the Bitjarra gone. They had been drifting away over the past year but now their gunyahs were empty, their cooking fire cold.

Matilda looked at it sadly. It was the end of an era but the beginning of something very much better. Perhaps, in their own mysterious way, they had realised she no longer needed them.

Life fell into an easy pattern. Finn moved his things into the house and arranged for a manager to live at Wilga. He would still breed droving horses but needed someone on the property to look after things. In six months they travelled to Broken Hill and, after one or two other important calls, went to see Geoffrey Banks and signed an agreement to make Wilga and Churinga one property.

Matilda adjusted her will, encompa.s.sing both properties, and couldn't help but smile at Geoffrey Banks as she did so. How right he'd been with his advice. Life was indeed full of surprises.

They had returned to Churinga, and Matilda waited until they had finished their evening meal and were sitting on the verandah. Finn pulled her on to his lap and they watched the moon sail above the trees.

'I've got something to tell you, Finn,' she said finally. 'It's to do with that visit I made while you were ordering your new riding boots.'

He was nuzzling her neck, his scratchy chin causing her to tingle with delight. 'Mmmm?'

She pulled away from him, laughing. 'How can I concentrate when you do that, Finn? Stop a minute and listen.'

He softly bit her neck. 'I'm still hungry,' he growled.

'Finn,' she said firmly. 'I've got something to tell you and it's important.'

He looked at her, his face suddenly serious. 'What is it Molly?'

'We're going to have a baby,' she said quietly, waiting for his reaction.

He stared at her for a long moment and then his awe and delight appeared in a wide grin. He picked her up and whirled her around the room. 'You clever, clever girl! Why didn't you tell me?'

She laughed and begged to be put down. 'Because I wanted to be sure,' she said breathlessly. 'At my age it just seemed so daft.'

He kissed her then with aching tenderness. 'Precious, precious girl,' he murmured against her lips. 'I promise you, our child will have the finest property in New South Wales and the most loving parents. Oh, Molly, Molly. This is the greatest gift you could have given me.'

Matilda hugged her own contentment and joy. She still couldn't believe it, and as the months slid by had to keep putting her hands on her belly to confirm she wasn't dreaming. She yearned for the time to pa.s.s quickly and yet was almost jealous of sharing such a miracle.

How lucky she was, she told herself repeatedly. How loved and wanted after all the years of isolation. This child would want for nothing. She and Finn would love and cherish it, and he or she would grow up strong and healthy in the good air of Churinga and Wilga.

The baby was due to be born in the winter. The shearing season was over and as she went into the last six weeks of her pregnancy, Matilda began to feel her energy decline in the humidity. It was already raining and the creek threatened to run a banker. Finn had gone with the men to round up the mob and take them to the higher pastures, and from there he would visit Wilga and make sure it was prepared for the winter.

Matilda moved slowly around the house, the weight of the child making the heat seem more intense. She had planned to finish decorating the nursery Finn had built on to the side of the house, and despite his orders to leave it for him to do, she wanted to surprise him.

Besides, she told herself fiercely, you're getting too soft and lazy sitting around the house all day doing nothing. It's time you got on with something.

She gathered up a bucket of water, a penknife for sc.r.a.ping off old varnish, cleaning cloths and beeswax, and plodded into the nursery. It was small and bright with a large window overlooking the paddock. It smelled of newly cut timber. She had already whitewashed the walls and wanted to paint a mural of Churinga behind the small cot Finn had built several weeks before. The mural was to be a surprise and she was glad he would be gone long enough for her to finish it. He fusses too much, she thought indulgently, and will only get under my feet.

Finn had brought a chest of drawers and a wardrobe from Wilga. Matilda decided that before she could begin on the mural, she would clean them out. Everything had to be just right for when the baby came. She knew this almost obsessive need to clean and dust was all a part of her nesting instincts much like the wild creatures of the outback.

With the warm water and cloths, she scrubbed away the dust from the bottom of the wardrobe and hummed to herself as she lined the shelves with paper. Then she polished the wood until it gleamed and stood back to admire the effect. The furniture Finn had brought with him had seen better days. Once the pieces had been put in here they'd almost been forgotten in the hurly-burly of the shearing season. Now she was pleased with how the wardrobe looked and turned to the chest of drawers.

As she opened the top drawer, she heard something rattle and then thud. Whatever it was, Finn had obviously forgotten about it. Now it had fallen down the back into the cavity behind the bottom drawer.

One by one she pulled the drawers out and set them in a stack on the floor. Then, puffing and blowing, she got down on her knees and scrabbled about in the dusty darkness. With the bulk of the baby between her and the furniture, it was difficult to see what she was doing.

Her fingers found something slippery and cold. It felt like a tin box. She pulled it out. Catching her breath, she looked at it more closely. It was a long, thin biscuit tin with a faded picture of tartan and thistles on the lid. It had once been filled with shortbread.

She gave it a shake. Something slithered and rattled inside. Intrigued, she prised off the rusting lid with the penknife.

Instead of biscuits, she found a few letters, a couple of newspaper cuttings and some photographs. Putting the letters aside, she looked at the photos. There was the house in Meander, the beach at Coles Bay, and Finn, smiling and proud in his school uniform.

She smiled and kissed the photograph. How she would tease him when he got home. Those knees!

Moving on to the next photograph, her hand stilled and the child in her belly gave a vicious kick. Here was Finn standing between two people Matilda would have recognised anywhere.

'That's impossible,' she breathed.