The Grazier's Wife Page 10

  They lay side by side in the darkness. Jackie watched the soft moonlight and listened to the silence, broken only by the faint buzz of insects and, in the distance, the soft, persistent call of a mopoke. She thought about the letter she’d started to read. Stella, nursing in Singapore during the war and meeting Tom Kearney.

  Jackie’s knowledge of World War II was hazy, but she did know that Singapore had fallen to the Japanese and there’d been horrific stories about the consequences. She wondered how Stella had escaped. And how had Tom Kearney’s story ended?

  More anxiously, she wondered how Stella’s story was connected to Magnus’s will.

  But then there was the biggest question of all – why had Stella hidden the papers?

  Jackie wasn’t sure that she wanted to know.

  It couldn’t be good news, surely?

  A worried sigh escaped her. She was beginning to wish that she’d left the mirror as it was. No one at the party would have minded about a few spots of wear and tear.

  In the darkness, Hugh turned to her. ‘You okay? You seem restless.’

  ‘Sorry. I was just thinking.’

  ‘Are you sure there’s nothing bothering you?’

  ‘No, not really.’ What else could she say? And anyway, she might be worrying about nothing. But she couldn’t dismiss those chilling words that Stella had written.

  I have done a terrible thing . . .

  She realised Hugh was still waiting for reassurance. She would have to make up something. Already, in one evening, this was becoming a habit.

  ‘I do find myself thinking quite a lot about our trip,’ she said. ‘It was so much fun, wasn’t it? I loved every minute. I could go back tomorrow.’

  This, at least, was the truth. Over the past twelve months, Jackie had often caught herself in a reverie – once again strolling the cobbled streets of San Sebastián, eating pain au chocolat at a pavement café in Paris, visiting the Tower of London.

  ‘Seeing all those new sights,’ she said. ‘It was just so stimulating and interesting. Such an eye-opener.’

  ‘It certainly was.’ Hugh sounded relieved. ‘Sounds like you’ve finally developed a taste for travel.’

  ‘Well, yes, I think I must have. I know I’ve been busy with Charlie this year, but maybe we should plan another trip. Or even several trips. Perhaps we should have a bucket list.’

  ‘I’d like to try Italy.’

  ‘Yes, I suspect we’d both adore Italy. And Greece,’ Jackie added, warming to this topic. ‘I know someone on Facebook who’s just had the most amazing swimming holiday on a Greek island.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Hugh sounded so-so about this. ‘There’s South America,’ he suggested with more enthusiasm. ‘Machu Picchu, Lake Titicaca, the Canopy Walkway in the Amazon. A huge amount to see there.’

  ‘Not to mention Asia,’ added Jackie, who would happily visit any of these places. ‘Apparently, Vietnam is very beautiful.’ Her thoughts slipped to Stella’s letter. ‘And Singapore. That would be interesting, too. Actually, there are great deals on flights out of Cairns and we need only be away a few days. Tilda Howard was telling me that Singapore’s the place to go to see Christmas lights.’

  ‘Christmas lights? Is that a priority?’

  ‘Well, no, not a priority exactly.’ Jackie wasn’t really sure why she was pushing for Singapore. ‘But a little trip like that is worth thinking about.’

  A small silence ticked by and then she said, ‘We could do a lot more travelling if you were retired.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Hugh stacked his hands beneath his head and lay looking up at the ceiling. ‘I’ve been giving it some thought lately. But to retire properly and hand over to Seth, we’d probably need to move away from Ruthven Downs.’

  Jackie nodded. ‘Yes, that would be a wrench.’

  ‘You’d miss Charlie.’

  She smiled into the darkness. Her small grandson had certainly won a huge share of her affections.

  Just the same, Charlie was totally mobile now, and getting into more mischief every day. There’d been times lately when Jackie had felt quite worn out after a full day of caring for him. Heaven knew how active he would be by the time he was a reckless two-year-old.

  She was conscious of divided loyalties whenever she thought about the future. She wanted to support Seth and to spend time with Charlie, but she’d also been looking forward to spending more time with Hugh, which could only happen if he retired.

  ‘We wouldn’t have to move too far away,’ she said. ‘But I do understand how hard it would be for you to leave here. I’d find it hard enough and I haven’t lived here all my life.’

  Then again, Ruthven Downs meant much more to Jackie than she was prepared to admit out loud. Her feelings for the property were tied up with how she felt about Hugh, of course. Marrying him had been like a fairytale, a miracle. She’d been Cinderella, lifted from obscurity to a position of considerable standing.

  The Drummond property had come to mean a great deal more than simply a place to call home. This vast, beautiful, successful cattle station was a vitally important source of security and status for her. Jackie had been damn proud of her role here and she’d worked hard at it, treating it seriously, like a career.

  The management of the household was her area of expertise. She’d kept the homestead and its gardens in tip-top order, and she’d thrown herself with gusto into caring for her children.

  What did young women call it these days? A stay-at-home mum? Jackie had relished that particular lifestyle choice, despite her sister-in-law’s disdain.

  She’d pushed herself beyond the household tasks, though – learning to ride a horse and working hard to get to know the cattle industry. In the years before Seth was born she’d enjoyed helping Hugh with the outdoor work, assisting him to muster or to draft the cattle, as well as learning how to cook on an open fire, so she could feed the ringers in the stock camps.

  When it came to mixing with other grazing families, she’d felt completely at home. She’d found her tribe. Her sense of identity was now closely tied to this house and this land.

  ‘Maybe I’m due for a change,’ Hugh said suddenly, breaking the train of her thoughts.

  Mildly surprised, Jackie turned to her husband. In the faint glow of moonlight, she saw his familiar, handsome profile and fancied she caught a resolute tilt to his jaw.

  ‘I should talk to Seth,’ Hugh said.

  ‘Well, I’m sure he’s more than ready to take over.’

  ‘Yeah, I reckon he’s dead keen, but he needs help with Charlie.’

  ‘He can always hire help.’ Jackie was surprised to hear herself saying this. She loved Charlie, of course she did, but she wasn’t getting any younger.

  ‘Actually, Seth should find himself a wife.’

  ‘If it was that easy, I’m sure he’d have one by now.’

  ‘He never gets out to meet anyone.’

  ‘No.’ She gave Hugh a dig with her elbow. ‘Is that what you did? Decided it was time to get married and went out and found me?’

  ‘Never,’ her husband responded good-humouredly. ‘You found me. When I walked into that salon, I didn’t stand a chance. You barred the door, locked the windows and wouldn’t let me out again.’

  ‘Oh, for sure!’ Jackie was laughing as she gave his arm a playful punch. ‘But maybe you should give Seth some advice.’

  ‘The last thing our son will listen to is advice from his old man about women.’ Hugh rolled towards her. ‘Anyway – why are we talking about Seth at this time of night?’

  Jackie yawned. ‘I can’t remember.’ Another yawn escaped.

  Nestling closer, his body warm against hers, Hugh murmured, ‘I suppose we really should get a good night’s sleep.’

  Jackie couldn’t help smiling. She knew her husband well and she’d had a fair idea that this was how their cosy bedtime chat would end.

  Sure enough, Hugh was already tracing a circle with his fingers on her hip.

  ‘Mmm,’ she murmure
d sleepily. ‘Maybe I could manage to stay awake for a few minutes longer.’

  She rolled over to him and their lips met in a lovely, long and lazy kiss as his hands glided deliciously over her skin.

  10

  The bell in the shop rang once, and was followed by a cheery, masculine voice. ‘Knock, knock?’

  Alice stepped away from the mirror glass she’d been cleaning with specially de-ionised water and a lint-free cloth.

  ‘Coming,’ she called, peeling off a pair of pink latex gloves and setting them with the cloth on the workbench.

  She untied her apron as she crossed the workroom and hung it on a hook by the doorway to the shop. From here she had a view of her customer. He was standing with his back to her, his thumbs hooked loosely in the loops of faded jeans, apparently studying the Art Deco plant stand she’d acquired just yesterday.

  Even from this back view there was no mistaking those muscle-bound shoulders.

  Alice didn’t welcome the silly reaction they caused. She needed a steadying breath before she spoke. ‘Can I help you, Seth?’

  Seth Drummond turned and his blue eyes flashed as he smiled at her. ‘Hello, Alice.’

  Taking another step into the shop, she eyed him cautiously. She couldn’t imagine why he’d come.

  ‘I was in town,’ he said with an easy smile. ‘And I thought I’d drop by. I hope you’re not too busy.’

  Alice was certainly too busy for idle chat, and she suspected that a man with a small son, who was quite probably also married, should not be ‘dropping by’.

  ‘Were you hoping to pick up the mirror?’ she asked. ‘I’m afraid I’m still working on it.’

  Seth responded with another charming smile. ‘I have to confess I called out of idle curiosity.’ He nodded to the small collection of furniture and bric-a-brac on display, and then to the view through the doorway that opened into Alice’s workroom. ‘It’s a nice set-up you have here.’

  Alice stiffened. It was time to nip this in the bud. ‘So where’s Charlie today?’ she asked coolly.

  Seth Drummond didn’t flinch. ‘He’s at day care. There’s quite a good place in Mareeba and he seems to like it. He’s fascinated by the other little toddlers.’

  Alice’s voice cooled to borderline frigid when she posed her next question. ‘Does Charlie’s mother work in Mareeba?’

  A muscle jerked in Seth’s jaw. His smile tightened and he didn’t answer straight away, which confirmed her suspicions. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the air in the shop seemed to crackle with tension. Maybe Seth had realised he’d overstepped the mark.

  Alice certainly hoped so.

  He wasn’t smiling when he spoke. ‘Charlie’s mother lives in England,’ he said quietly. ‘She was out here for a year, then she went home to marry her English boyfriend.’

  ‘Ohhh.’

  The shaky syllable was all Alice could manage. She was too stunned. Wrong-footed. She’d convinced herself that Seth Drummond was a married family man and she’d decided she was pleased about that. It gave her the perfect excuse to forget him, and to avoid thinking about her own failings with regard to small children.

  But now, her thoughts churned dizzily. The mother of Seth’s cute little boy was in England. Married to an Englishman.

  And it seemed possible now that Seth Drummond was something of a hero. A heroic single father rather than a sleazy married man on the make.

  This shouldn’t have been a big deal, but to Alice it felt huge. Despite her resolve to forget the man, she’d spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking about him over the past few days.

  Now she was rapidly reassembling her thoughts. He was still a man with a small son, but that didn’t warrant her cold shoulder.

  Seth was watching her cautiously, no doubt unsure of his welcome. ‘Sorry if I’ve interrupted your work,’ he said.

  Alice found herself offering him an apologetic smile. ‘I’m not terribly busy. I was working on your mother’s mirror, actually. It’s all cleaned and just about ready for the new coat of silver.’

  At this, Seth’s eyes flared with fresh interest. He glanced past her, through to the workroom. ‘I’ve never met anyone who knows how to re-silver mirrors.’

  It was hard to hold back a fully fledged smile, a small olive branch. ‘Would you like to see the mirror? Although I should warn you, it just looks like any piece of bevelled glass at the moment.’

  ‘I’d love to see it. I’m intrigued.’

  To her annoyance, she felt quite warm in the face as she led him into her workroom.

  He stood for a moment, hands resting lightly on lean hips, looking around at her workspace, at the bits and pieces of furniture, the workbench scattered with chisels, planes and sandpaper, the old enamel sink in the corner, the tins of glue and varnish stacked on the bare concrete floor, the wall of glass doors opening onto the sun-filled back garden.

  ‘This is a great area, isn’t it?’ he said.

  ‘I love it,’ Alice admitted.

  ‘And you live upstairs?’

  ‘Yes.’ But in case Seth had any bright ideas about investigating her living quarters, she pointed to the easel where the mirror glass was secured. ‘So here’s the work in progress.’

  His eyes widened. ‘That’s our mirror?’

  ‘That’s it. I was just in the process of cleaning off any last smudges or fingerprints before I apply the new silver.’

  He nodded, walking closer. ‘I’ve never really given much thought to how mirrors are made. I guess you had to clean off all the old backing first?’

  ‘Yes, that came off with paint stripper. Then I used nitric acid to take off the silver.’

  ‘You’d want plenty of ventilation then. But I guess all you have to do is keep all these doors open.’

  ‘Yes, there’s loads of fresh air, but I’ll be extra-careful with the silver. I have to mix it with chemicals, so I’ll wear a mask for that.’

  Seth’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Sounds almost as dangerous as catching a scrub bull.’

  ‘Not if I’m sensible.’

  Now he grinned. ‘I usually say the same about catching bulls.’ Again he turned to the clear sheet of glass. ‘Do you spray on the silver?’

  Alice looked at him with a puzzled smile. ‘Are you really interested in this, or just being polite?’

  ‘Of course I’m interested. As I said, I’ve never met anyone who does this line of work, let alone a woman.’ Seth made a sweeping gesture and grinned. ‘A place like this, you’d expect an old guy with glasses and grey hair in a greasy ponytail.’

  Alice couldn’t help smiling, but she continued her explanation in her most businesslike voice. ‘Well, putting the silver on is actually my favourite part. The mix is clear when it first goes onto the glass, but then it turns silver as it dries.’

  ‘That must be cool to watch. And what happens then? You add the backing paint, I guess.’

  She nodded. ‘First there’s a coat of copper to seal the silver, and once that’s dry, there’s another coat of protective backing.’

  ‘It’s quite a process.’ There was clear admiration in Seth’s smile. ‘And I’m thinking that maybe you need a decent lunch, before you tackle a job like that.’

  He slipped this suggestion in so smoothly and charmingly Alice found it impossible to refuse. ‘Sounds like a plan,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Where would you like to go? The pub? The Lilly Pilly café?’

  Alice’s usual lunch was a quick cup of soup or a sandwich. She considered their options. Going to either the pub or the café would involve sitting in full public view for at least half an hour or so, and she knew that in this small village, eagle eyes would be watching. Tongues would soon be wagging and in no time gossip would be spinning about her and Seth Drummond.

  ‘There’s a new pie shop that’s just opened,’ she said. ‘I haven’t tried it yet, but I’ve heard rave reports. We could always grab a couple of pies and bring them back here.’

  ‘Great idea.�
�� Seth grinned and rubbed his flat stomach. ‘I’m partial to a good meat pie. Haven’t had one for ages.’

  Alice washed her hands at the sink and they went out through the shop, leaving a sign hanging on the front door – Back in five minutes.

  The pie shop was only three doors away, but walking even that short distance involved going past Tammy the hairdresser’s plate-glass window.

  The eyes and ears of Burralea, Brad Woods had called Tammy when Alice first arrived, and sure enough, the hairdresser grinned madly and gave an excited wave of her scissors when she saw Alice and Seth.

  ‘She’ll be into my shop later to find out all about you,’ Alice told him.

  He simply smiled. ‘Joys of a small town.’

  Sensational aromas greeted them as they entered the pie shop. The owner, whose name was Ben, according to the sign over the door, was a cheery guy with longish sun-bleached hair, more like a surfer than a cook. But the range of pies in heated glass cases looked and smelled divine.

  Alice and Seth made their selection – two beef and red wine pies for Seth and a lamb and filo parcel for Alice.

  ‘How about a drink as well?’ Seth asked. ‘I think I’d like a ginger beer.’

  It was ages since Alice had drunk ginger beer, but now her taste buds tingled. ‘Yes, I’ll have one too, thanks.’

  They carried their drinks and the pies, warm and fragrant in brown paper bags, back to Alice’s place. Alice kept her eyes averted from Tammy’s window.

  Back in her shop, she said, ‘I often have lunch on the steps right here.’ She pointed to the extra-wide doorway at the back and the two broad, solid wooden steps that were almost like a small deck leading to the tangled garden.

  ‘Suits me fine.’ Despite his height, Seth lowered himself to the floor with athletic ease.

  Alice tried hard not to notice how very hot he looked, sitting there with his broad shoulders propped against the door frame, his long jeans-clad legs sprawled comfortably. She sat on the other side of the wide doorway and it was very pleasant, with sun filtering through the weeping bottlebrush tree. Ben had supplied paper napkins and they used their paper bags as plates as they ate.