Moonlight Plains Page 3

  He left the sentence dangling as he steered the ute around a bumpy corner, and then the bush fell away, revealing paddocks that stretched flat and pale to a distant rise where the white timber homestead stood, faintly glowing.

  Luke slowed to a halt and cut the headlights.

  ‘So there she is,’ he said quietly. ‘Moonlight Plains homestead.’

  The old house looked exactly right for this setting, a classic Queenslander – a simple, large rectangle with deep verandahs all round and a peaked iron roof sweeping low, like a hat brim. The building was dilapidated, of course. Even from this distance Sally could see the sagging wooden shutters and broken verandah railings. She guessed the paint would be shabby and peeling, the iron roof rusted.

  Somehow, the house’s neglected state reminded her of her dog, Jess. She smiled. ‘It’s the kind of house that deserves to be loved.’

  Luke nodded. ‘Yeah. That’s exactly how I feel.’

  She was touched by the depth of emotion in his voice.

  I get it, she wanted to tell him. I do understand.

  ‘It’s such a simple design,’ he said. ‘No frills or fuss, but for me this house still has a certain elegance about her. I love the pitch of her roof line. I reckon she has a touch of class.’

  He might have been describing a woman and, watching his manly profile outlined by moonlight, Sally felt an edgy excitement dance down her spine. She’d never been totally alone like this with a guy who wasn’t Josh, and it was ages since she’d felt this jangling awareness, this growing curiosity and low buzzing inside her.

  She wished she knew what Luke was thinking and feeling right now, and to her mild alarm, she realised she hoped he was thinking about her rather than the homestead.

  ‘So that’s the long-distance view,’ he said as he flicked the truck’s lights back on. ‘Now for the close-up.’

  Sally was very self-conscious as he drove across the paddocks, and the buzzing inside her grew more insistent.

  To distract herself, she asked quickly, ‘So has this been in your family for a long time?’

  ‘My grandparents took it over after the war, but the property’s not very big, so later they expanded and bought another place further west. This is good country for fattening, though, so my uncles nearly always have some of their cattle here, especially if there are droughts out west.’

  By now they were pulling up near the homestead’s front steps. ‘Don’t forget this is a building site,’ Luke warned as she climbed out of the ute in her spindly heels.

  The night was exceptionally quiet. There wasn’t a sound except the soft trilling of crickets in nearby trees.

  ‘You’ll have to be careful. Some sections of the verandah aren’t safe.’

  The bright moon illuminated the timber verandah and Sally saw a roped-off section down one side.

  ‘Stick close to me.’ With casual confidence, Luke reached for her hand.

  Such a simple, innocent, practical gesture . . . but Sally was super-aware of their skin contact, of their palms connecting, of the tingling warmth that spread up her arm as he guided her carefully up the stairs and along the verandah. Their shoulders brushed, and then their hips, and each time she felt an electrifying flash.

  She was conscious of every millimetre of her skin under the borrowed dress, and she couldn’t believe how quickly this had happened. For the first time in a very long time she didn’t want to think about the past. She didn’t want to mourn.

  She realised now, incredibly, that she wanted Luke to touch her. This was why she’d come here. It had been so long . . . and her body had developed a mind of its own . . .

  After two and a half years of loneliness, she longed for the comfort of a hug, for strong masculine arms around her, hungry lips on hers.

  With a flick of a switch from Luke, the verandah was bathed in yellow light, revealing a workbench at one end with a power saw on it, and beside it a large toolbox holding hammers, screwdrivers, chisels and other gear. Sawdust and fine curls of pale-gold timber lay on the floor beneath the bench. Sally caught the scent of new wood and felt a rush of excitement that astonished her. Josh had never owned so much as a hammer.

  ‘So basically, I’ve had to start by pulling the place apart.’ Luke spoke calmly enough, but he was still holding Sally’s hand. ‘I began with a grand vision of the end result, but right now I’m in the demolition phase and it feels like I’m destroying it. It’s a damn –’

  He stopped and seemed to forget what else he wanted to say as he stared at her, and she stared at him.

  She saw the movement of his throat as he swallowed, saw how tense he was. She held her breath as thrilling expectation sent her pulse racing. The emotion in his eyes made her limbs feel boneless.

  ‘Truth is,’ he said, pulling his gaze from her, ‘all I have to show you is an empty old house with an internal wall and some cupboards ripped out. No real changes. No furniture to speak of.’

  Sally smiled. He was as nervous and uncertain as she was, and the knowledge brought her a new sense of calmness. ‘So . . . you’re camping here?’

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘Well, we’ve come all this way, Luke, so you’d better show me around.’

  For a long moment he just looked at her as if he was trying to make up his mind about something, and then he gave a smiling shrug. ‘Sure.’ He grinned. He had the cutest sparkling-eyed grin. ‘I think I’ve cleared most of the cobwebs.’

  He waved a hand towards the open front door with its multicoloured stained-glass panels. ‘So it’s a standard design. Hallway down the middle. Lounge and dining room on one side, bedrooms on the other, kitchen at the back.’

  ‘Laundry outside?’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m thinking about bringing it into the house, next to a bathroom.’

  And some woman in the future will love you for that, Sally thought.

  She noticed, with interest, a pile of books in one corner. At a glance they seemed mostly to do with architecture.

  They moved through the front doorway into a hall with tongue and groove timber walls and exposed timber floorboards.

  ‘Oh, I love the timber archway.’ Sally pointed to a decorative arch halfway down the hall.

  ‘There’s a better one in here.’ Luke steered her through another doorway where a larger, gracefully curved timber arch divided the empty lounge and dining rooms.

  ‘Yes, lovely,’ Sally agreed. ‘I can picture it with fresh white paint and pots of ferns on those built-in plant stands.’

  He laughed. ‘I might have to consult you on the interior décor.’

  She thought of the piles and piles of decorating magazines she’d collected but never put to use, and felt a little shiver of excitement. We’ll see.

  Once again, she was incredibly conscious of Luke, of his broad shoulders and deep chest, his suntanned skin, his capable hands . . .

  Carefully they continued, making their way around a ladder that disappeared through a hole in the ceiling where timber panels had been removed. The doors to the other rooms, presumably bedrooms, were closed and Luke didn’t offer to open them, so they arrived next at the kitchen.

  A small, rusty fridge stood in one corner and a very basic sink was positioned beneath the bank of windows. In stark contrast to the orderliness of the toolboxes she’d seen elsewhere the sink was filled with a clutter of unwashed plates and mugs.

  A couple of crates on the floor held bottles of sauce and tins of basics like tomato soup and baked beans. A two-burner stove plate was propped on another box that was turned on its side and there was also a camp table and a metal folding chair.

  Standing in the middle of the room, all big shoulders and boyish smile, Luke shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as he looked about him. ‘Believe it or not, this is going to be a showpiece one day.’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  His smile tilted. ‘So . . . would you like a drink? I’m afraid it’ll have to be beer or beer.’

  Sally gave a soft laugh
. She wasn’t much of a beer drinker. ‘I’d love a beer.’

  ‘Great. Take the weight off.’ Quickly, he grabbed a tea towel. ‘Hang on.’ With a flick of the towel he dusted off the metal seat. ‘Can’t spoil that borrowed finery.’

  Luke watched as Sally sat down, watched the way his dark coat fell apart to reveal her pale-pink dress, watched her graceful movements as she crossed her slim legs.

  For a moment he was transfixed and he just stood there, drinking in the sight of her. So perfect in his shabby, inadequate kitchen.

  Then he remembered he was supposed to be getting their drinks.

  Shit, did he have a clean glass?

  He wished he was calmer. Anyone would think he’d never hit on a girl before, but there was something about Sally that messed with his head. Half a dozen times already – in the ute, on the verandah, in the hallway – he’d nearly given in to his desire to kiss her, but for some reason he didn’t quite understand, he knew he wanted to get this right. Had to get this right. Sally was different, so perfect in every way, he needed to lift his act.

  To his relief, he found a clean glass and poured her beer, and it didn’t froth too much or run down the sides.

  Sally smiled as he handed it to her, and her dark eyes were warm and eloquent, almost as if she was sending him a silent message. He just hoped he was reading that message correctly.

  ‘So,’ she said, looking about her and pointing to the recessed section of the kitchen that was clad with ripple iron, ‘is that where the wood stove used to be?’

  Luke nodded. ‘I’m thinking of turning it into –’

  ‘Let me guess,’ she interrupted eagerly. ‘A walk-in pantry?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s one possibility.’

  Her eyes were shining. ‘That would be fabulous.’ She took a sip of beer and set the glass on the table. ‘Have you thought about the cupboards and benchtops yet?’

  ‘Not really. I’ve a long way to go before I get to those details. I’m still working on the roof.’

  Sally nodded, looking about her.

  ‘You know,’ she said next, and Luke half-expected her to offer a few cupboard suggestions. ‘I came out this way last year with my father. We canoed down the Burdekin from Big Bend to the bridge at Macrossan.’

  This was a surprise. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  ‘I did. It was so quiet and peaceful on the river, but there was also a section with canyons and rapids. It’s fantastic country.’

  It wasn’t every city girl who liked the bush.

  ‘We saw so many birds. Dad caught fish. I took photographs.’ Smiling, she asked, ‘So do you know this area well? Did you grow up around here?’

  ‘Further north,’ he said. ‘Almost a day’s drive. Up in the Gulf on Mullinjim Station. My sister Bella’s running the show now.’

  When he saw Sally’s raised eyebrows, he added, ‘With the help of her husband, Gabe. And then there’s another sister, my half-sister Zoe and her husband. They’re on a neighbouring property.’

  ‘Quite a family concern then?’ Sally was clearly intrigued. ‘Have your parents . . . retired?’

  ‘My mum’s in Townsville. She moved there after my father died.’ Luke swallowed quickly as he said this. ‘About a year ago.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Luke nodded and a small silence fell, and he was grateful that Sally didn’t push him for details. There were still times when he found himself reliving the shock of his father’s fatal heart attack. The news had come when he’d been driving back from Mullinjim to a job at Charters Towers, and the painful memory could still catch him out.

  But when he glanced at Sally, he saw that her shoulders had drooped and she was staring forlornly at a spot on the floor. She looked so sad he felt a stab of fear. Had he roused bad memories for her as well? It was time to change the subject fast. His mind raced, searching for an interesting topic to put her at ease.

  She gave a little shake and took a delicate sip of her beer, but she didn’t seem to be enjoying the drink. She probably wasn’t a beer drinker and had only accepted it to be polite.

  Then she lifted her gaze and her cheeks were slightly flushed, and he thought how much the colour suited her.

  ‘This isn’t right, Luke,’ she said, frowning. ‘I feel wrong sitting here when you don’t have a seat.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said, but he knew it was awkward. He should at least have two chairs. Jana had said as much, but that had been different. He’d made do with sitting on a crate, because he’d known she would soon be leaving.

  ‘I’ll make sure this setup’s better when you come back to do your story,’ he said now.

  With an enigmatic smile, Sally stood again, leaving the barely touched beer on the table. She looked back down the hallway to the closed doors. ‘So what’s in these rooms?’ Already she was heading towards them.

  Luke dragged a quick breath as he followed her. She had to know they were bedrooms. ‘Just . . . my gear.’

  She turned back to him, her eyes bright and ever so slightly teasing, her cheeks a deeper pink than ever. ‘Where do you sleep?’

  His heart was hammering now. This was it. Miraculously, even though he’d told her he wasn’t trying to pick her up . . . she’d known all along that he was doing exactly that. And here she was . . . asking the way . . . to his bedroom. His bedroom, which was as spartan as the kitchen.

  Just his luck to find the perfect girl and have nothing more seductive to offer her than a swag on the floor. Sally was a city girl. She might have enjoyed a canoe trip on the Burdekin, but little giveaways like the pale perfection of her skin and her neatly painted fingernails shouted loud and clear that she was still a smooth city chick.

  ‘It’s a bit of a mess in there,’ he warned, stepping between her and the closed door.

  ‘I’ve never fancied neat freaks.’ Sally smiled up at him, robbing him of breath.

  Seemed she fancied him. This was going to happen.

  ‘All night I’ve been wanting to tell you how gorgeous you are – the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.’

  With a soft smile, she stepped closer and lifted her face to his.

  I wonder . . .

  Lying in her nursing home bed, Kitty Mathieson couldn’t sleep. She knew it was silly to pin too many hopes on what might be happening in Charters Towers, but she’d been picturing the scene at the ball . . . Sally Piper arriving in the pink georgette dress she’d lent her . . .

  She wondered if her grandson Luke had gone to the ball as well. She knew he’d been invited.

  She would give anything to be there, a fly on the wall, listening to the band play Benny Goodman and watching the dancing couples. Closing her eyes, Kitty could hear the music, faint at first, but coming to her more strongly, bright and brassy, stirring memories . . .

  As the music swelled, the fates of Sally and her grandson were forgotten as she found herself slipping back . . .

  She was nineteen again, in that frantic February when the war arrived on her doorstep.

  5

  Townsville, February 1942

  The smells of sweat and fear mingled with train smoke as Kitty pushed her way through the anxious crowds on the station platform. The scene was depressingly familiar. Distraught mothers tried to calm crying babies, hassled porters yelled, ‘Make way!’ as they pushed trolleys piled dangerously high with suitcases and boxes, while bewildered children clutched prized possessions – a teddy bear, a doll, a wooden truck. It had been like this every night for the past week, as Kitty farewelled friends and neighbours. Everyone was leaving Townsville now that Darwin had been bombed. They were getting out of the north while they could. Any day now, the full-scale Japanese invasion would begin.

  ‘I feel as if we’re abandoning you,’ Kitty’s neighbour Jean said as she bundled her children into their carriage and kissed Kitty goodbye. ‘I wish you could come with us.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’

  Kitty had said this to other friend
s on other nights. What else could she say? She wasn’t especially brave. She was as scared as anyone else. The spectre of the Japanese terrified her.

  She’d heard the stories about what they would do, but her grandfather had refused to leave. As head churchwarden, he took his responsibilities to the remaining parishioners very seriously.

  ‘If it comes to the worst,’ she said now, ‘the government will evacuate us.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’ Jean sounded doubtful and looked awkward, her fashionably painted dark-red lips drawing in tightly as she dropped her gaze.

  There’d been horrifying rumours that the government intended to pull out of northern Australia. Apparently, it wasn’t possible to defend the entire coastline, and everything north of Brisbane was to be abandoned to the Japs in the same way that Prime Minister Curtin and his cabinet had abandoned Rabaul in New Guinea. Bert Hammond, who lived in Kitty’s street, had heard it from someone who worked in the government.

  Kitty consoled herself that the Americans had already started to arrive. She’d seen their landing barges on the beach, their noisy convoys of trucks, their sunglasses and spiky haircuts, the money they readily flashed around. They were so smartly dressed and efficient. Surely they would make a difference?

  ‘I know you’ll be fine. You’re a sensible girl,’ Jean said. ‘But I wish you were a little older.’

  Kitty lifted her chin. ‘I’m almost twenty.’

  Jean smiled and lowered her voice so her children couldn’t hear her. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, Kitty Martin. You’re too pretty by half. Don’t go making eyes at those Americans, or you’ll be asking for trouble.’

  Kitty wrinkled her nose. ‘Now you’re talking like my grandfather. If I believe him, the Americans are a greater threat to Australian girls than the Japanese are.’

  ‘That’s a bit rich.’ Jean smiled ruefully, and she might have said more, but the guard was calling, ‘All aboard.’ It was time to settle her children.

  Almost immediately, a shrill whistle blew and Kitty and the others on the platform began to wave.