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“Sorry, darlin'!” Her father sat up straight. “I’m a bit hazy on it myself. You go off now and enjoy yourself. God knows, you deserve a bit of pleasure.”
Alana glanced at her watch. She had to go, or she would be running late. She had intended taking the car—the air-conditioning in the ute was on the blink—but now she changed her mind. “I’ll take the ute. You take the car,” she suggested, in her usual generous fashion. Her father didn’t know the air-conditioning in the ute was shot. There was so much he didn’t know or care about.
“Doesn’t matter to me, darlin',” Alan Callaghan said. ‘You’re all dressed up. You take it.”
“The car will suit you better,” she replied. Alan Callaghan was six-three, like his son, and his skin had a peculiar flush. “I’m fine in the ute.” She bent to kiss his cheek, resting one hand on his shoulder. “You have clean shirts in your wardrobe, all ironed. Blue always looks so nice on you. Take care now, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too, my darlin',” Alan Callaghan said, rising to his feet, then going to the verandah balustrade to wave her off.
Alana saw pleasure leap into Rose’s eyes as she walked towards her. Rose was already seated at the table, having arrived some minutes earlier. She jumped up to hug and kiss her cousin.
“Oh, isn’t this great? I’m so happy to see you, Lana,” she said in her affectionate way. “You look gorgeous—as usual. Très chic! You’re easily the most stunning girl in the Valley. It puts Vi’s nose out of joint I can tell you.” She giggled.
“Is it any wonder I love you so much?” Alana asked indulgently. Rose herself looked a picture, in a designer dress that must have cost the earth. Her Italian handbag alone would have set her trust fund back a few thousand dollars. With maybe another thousand or more tied up in the shoes. The Denby girls weren’t cheap dressers. They were fashion icons. In fact Alana rarely saw them in the same thing twice.
Predictably, they had been allotted one of the restaurant’s best tables, beside the huge floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows. The building was shaded by extensive covered verandahs that commanded a splendid view over the sun drenched vale of vines that marched in precise lines right up to the base of the green foothills. What a visual delight! Alana felt herself calming. It was marvellous paintable country! The ripened chardonnay grapes were to be harvested at any moment, which accounted for the palpable air of expectancy that permeated the air, and it was a sparkling scene laid out for their delectation beneath a shimmering blue sky.
“You’re going to have a glass of wine, aren’t you?” Rose asked, fixing her cousin with her huge, heavily lashed blue eyes.
Rose was so very, very pretty, Alana thought. Rather like the pin-up girls of old, with her thick blonde hair cut in a bob and her rosebud mouth painted fire-engine-red. And she was sweet. She’d be perfect for Simon. Even the Draconian Rebecca couldn’t object that much to Rose Denby.
“Just the one, Rose,” Alana said with a smile. “I’m driving.”
“Simon is going to run me home,” Rose confided, looking just the faintest bit anxious, as if Alana might have some objection. “We’ll soon be working together.” She held up a hand. “You can’t tell him yet, it’s not set in stone, but Guy has offered me a job.”
“That’s your news?” Alana wondered at the reason behind Guy’s sudden action.
“Yes!” Rose came across as thrilled. “I think it’s right down my alley, but I wanted to get your take on it. You’re the one with the good head on your shoulders. I’m a twit.”
“That’s not right, Rose,” Alana protested right away. Pretty as she was, Rose didn’t have a lot of self-esteem. “When did you stop believing in yourself? You were an excellent student.”
“Sure!” Rose sighed, looking away, across the luxuriant vineyard. “It’s hard to believe in yourself with sisters like mine. They gang up on me, those two. I know I was good at school but I’ve never amounted to anything, have I? You’ve been working your butt off since Aunt Belle died. People speak of you with such admiration. They dismiss me with a little knowing nod—airhead, featherbrain, fluttery little playgirl.”
“Hey, that’s not true!” Alana caught her cousin’s hand and shook it. “You’re so hard on yourself, Rose. You’re not reaching out, that’s all. You can do things. You don’t have to party all the time. I think it’s great Guy has offered you a job. I’m so happy for you.”
“You always did have a lot more faith in me than anyone else.” Rose leaned across the table, speaking in such a confidential voice that all the people in the huge room might have been dead set on eavesdropping. “I’ll be the PR person. I wouldn’t be waiting tables or anything like that. Mummy and Daddy would have a fit. It’s the social scene I’m good at, but I suddenly realise I want a job. I think it’s a dumb mistake, the way I’ve been living the life of a playgirl. Just like you said, I want to do something. Not something terribly serious, or really hard work, like you, but something I can enjoy. Something I can shine at. I’m good with people. Unlike my snooty sisters, people seem to like me.”
“Well, there’s a very good reason for that, Rose,” Alana said. “You have charm. You’re lovely to look at. You’re warm, friendly, intelligent. If you knew anything about mustering sheep I’d hire you myself. But you know everything about the Valley. And you’ve been just about everywhere in the world, so you can relate to all the overseas tourists. I think you’d be great! Congratulations. I’m proud of you.”
Guy’s hand is behind everything, Alana thought.
Rose blushed. “Gosh, it makes me happy to hear you say that, Lana. Guy has faith in me too. That means such a lot. I won’t let you down. I’ll be organising tours of the estate, making sure everything is working smoothly. I expect my duties will grow—Guy said it’s up to me. And I can help Simon in the office when I have the time. I’ve always had a soft spot for Simon, but he can’t see anyone outside you,” she lamented.
Alana shook her head. “Rose, it’s high time I told you I have no romantic interest in Simon. None whatsoever. We’re pals.”
Rose blinked, clearly having difficulty accepting what Alana had just said. “But Vi has been telling everyone you two are just biding your time before you get married. Simon’s mother is a bit of a pain in the neck, no?” Rose looked at Alana sympathetically. Rebecca Radcliffe, The Widow, had terrified her as a child. Rebecca looked just like the wicked stepmother in her illustrated book of Snow White.
“You’re not listening, Rosie.” Alana placed her hand over her cousin’s, giving it several little emphasising taps. “I-am-not-and-never-will-be-in-love-with-Simon.”
“Oh, thank you—thank you!” Rose put a hand to her breast, as if she was about to have a heart attack. “Just when I thought you were two steps away from the altar.”
“I’m two steps away from punching Vi in the nose,” Alana said as though ready to do it.
“But he worships you.” Rose could barely take in this new development.
“He would worship you if you played your cards right.” Alana looked her cousin directly in the eye.
“But this is crazy! Lana, don’t torture me. I’m already hyperventilating. You really don’t want him?”
Alana picked up the leatherbound menu, which was quite extensive. She studied it for a moment before answering. “As a husband, no; as my lifelong pal, yes. I’d be excited to be a god-mother, though. Maybe chief bridesmaid before that. Don’t take any notice whatsoever of anything Vi says. She’s a born trouble-maker, I’m afraid.”
“You’re telling me!” Rose huffed. “And Lil’s just the same. It will blow up in their faces one day.”
Simon was thrilled to have the opportunity of seeing Alana in the middle of his working day. He kissed her on both cheeks with Gallic aplomb, and smiled benignly on little Rose, who was looking remarkably pretty and flushed.
“Good lunch?” he asked, walking them to the parking lot.
“Great lunch!” both young women said together, then laughed.
“Well, the restaurant boasts a much-lauded chef,” Simon pointed out with satisfaction. “What did you have?”
“Rose will tell you in the car.” Alana lightly touched his arm. “She says you’re driving her home?” Actually, Alana could easily have done that, but Rose obviously didn’t want to miss out on a little private time with Simon.
“I wouldn’t want her to drive after a few drinks,” Simon said. “Our Rose can be quite naughty!”
“I like to enjoy myself, Simon, darling,” said Rose, suddenly feeling free to take his arm. “We had a brilliant time.” She puckered up to kiss Alana goodbye. “Just double-checking—you’re entering The Naming, of course?” she asked. “Will I ever get a chance to shine? Everyone thinks I’m pretty cute, but you’re something else again.”
“I’m not entering, Rosie,” Alana said firmly. “And I’m thinking it would be absolutely wonderful if you won.”
“Truly? You want me to win?” Rose’s big blue eyes widened.
Alana nodded. “I’ll take loads of photos of you wearing the crown.”
Simon, however, was searching Alana’s face with a frown. “You’re joking, aren’t you, Lana?”
“No, Simon, I’m not,’ she said sweetly, resisting the urge to pinch his cheek.
“But I’ve already entered you,” Simon burst out, near broken-heartedly.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Simon. It’s my decision not to enter.”
“Well, that’s good news of a kind.” Rose was looking on the bright side. “It gives the rest of us a chance.”
Alana was walking, head down, to the ute, when a tall figure loomed up in front of her, his height blocking out the sunlight. “Hi,” Guy said in a perfectly calm voice. “Lost in thought?”
She was glad her eyes were hidden behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses. “Why, hello, Guy. Is this the way it’s going to be from now on?”
“And how’s that?” He took her arm with unbearable gentleness and moved her into the shade of a trellis that was covered in a prolifically flowering white vine.
“We’re not friends any more?”
“Were we ever friends?” he asked ironically, his dark eyes moving slowly over her.
She averted her head. “Maybe not. I’ve just had lunch with Rose.”
“So I heard,” he answered smoothly. “She thinks the world of you, Alana.”
“And I’m very fond of Rose. It’s Violette I like to keep a million miles from. Violette is still telling anyone who will listen Simon and I are two minutes from the altar. At least that’s what Rose just told me.”
He was looking at her white shirt, at the first three buttons undone, allowing a mere glimpse of the shadowed cleft between her breasts.
She felt she was burning alive, unable to lock out the memories of his hands on her.
“Well, I do hope you put her right!” he said.
Alana gave in to a wry laugh. “You should have seen her rush off with Simon. She told me about the job. She’s thrilled. It’s wonderful you’re giving her a chance, Guy. It’s what she needs. Rose is capable of so much more.”
“I did it for you, Alana, as you well know,” he returned bluntly.
“Excuse me?” She threw back her head, aglitter in the sunlight.
“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you in the least. I did what you suggested. I set it up so Rose and Simon are thrown together. I understood that’s what you wanted?”
She heard the birds calling to one another, the bees droning, inhaled the nearly overpowering sweet scent of the cascades of white flowers. “Do you want me to go down on bended knee and thank you?”
He smiled. “Actually, that could be nice. Why don’t I drive you home instead? It’s damned hot, and I know for a fact the air conditioning in your ute has broken down.”
“Is there anything you don’t know? Anyway, there are such things as windows,” she pointed out. She who had been forced to spend several minutes fixing her windblown hair when she’d arrived.
“If you could manage a smile, I’ll get someone to fix it and deliver it back to the farm. Probably by tomorrow afternoon.”
She would be a fool to turn such an offer down. “I can’t let you do it, Guy.”
“But you can let me play matchmaker to get Simon off your back?”
She smarted—just as he’d intended. “I love Simon.”
“As a friend. Simon needs to be strong about recognising that fact. I’m sure Rose will do her very best to offer sympathy. I like Rose. As you say, there’s so much more to her than she’s been allowed to show. I think she can do this job, and do it well.”
“So do I!” Her note was overly emphatic, as though he might change his mind. “She’s ecstatic about it.”
His mouth twitched. “I think she’s more ecstatic about coming into daily contact with Simon. They’re both gentle people. I need hardly say you’re not!”
“Neither are you!” she shot back, affronted.
“You are going to let me drive you home, though?”
She stared up at him. “You’re an intimidating man when you want to be, Guy Radcliffe.”
He took her arm, leading her off to the reserved parking area, under shelter, where his car had pride of place. Once there, he opened the passenger door for her—but before she could make a move to slide into the leather seat he suddenly caught her chin, turned her face up to him and kissed her mouth.
She didn’t know if it was fierce or tender or a combination of both, but her legs turned as wobbly as a toddler’s.
“Lucky for you I’m not intimidating all the time,” he said, placing a hand on the top of her head and guiding her down into the passenger seat as though she were his prisoner.
The countryside revealed itself in gentle swells of hill and dale, in every possible shade of green. Alana was very sensitive to all the different shades of nature. Graceful, broad-domed shade trees lined the valley road, and in the huge paddocks some species of wattle had already begun to burst into the glowing masses of golden blossom that outstripped the display turned on by the red and pink flowering gums.
Alana stared through the window of the gently purring car as the Valley landscape flashed by. The interior was beautifully cool. The top-of-the-range car was a far, far cry from the farm utility or indeed anything she was used to.
It was the bluest of blue days. A day to rejoice in—though if the truth be known numerous anxieties were tugging at her heart. A few shape-shifting white clouds were gathering over the hills. One looked like the dove of peace, with its wings outstretched. She didn’t feel in the least peaceful. She was trying hard to resist the urge to touch her still pulsating mouth. Every kiss he gave her was more devastating than the last. If only she could read their true meaning. Tease away her doubts.
“Dad said such a strange thing to me before I left,” she confided.
Guy glanced at her with a quick frown. “Oh? What?”
“He said he was going to see Father Brennan to make his confession.”
Guy, being Guy, cut right to the heart of the matter. “What are you afraid of?”
“I believe Dad has a death wish.” Her tone betrayed her sorrow.
“It’s possible,” Guy agreed quietly. “Kieran and I are always on guard, but we can’t be with him all the time.”
“Where is Kieran today?”
She rested her head back. “He’s gone over to the Mangans to give them a hand. Mr Mangan isn’t properly on his feet after his operation.”
“Yes, I know,” Guy murmured, his mind clearly on other things. “You know your farm will have to go?”
She nodded in abject resignation. “Maybe you can give me a job, like Rose?” She heard the bitterness in her voice, then felt appalled by it. “I’m sorry. I know how that sounded.”
“I could buy Briar’s Ridge,” Guy said.
She turned her head to look at him in amazement. He had sounded serious. “You don’t need it.”
“No.”
“So why would you do it?”
A muscle clenched along his clean jawline. “I’d do it if it would get your father back on his feet.” So she did mean something to him. But what?
“I don’t believe it would,” she answered, on reflection. “Dad is sunk in—not apathy, it’s despair. He tried to make that ‘confession’ a joke but he can’t fool me. He told me, ‘There’s love and there’s love.‘ He said he’d let a dream rule his life. That he wasn’t the one my mother wanted.”
“Isn’t that a confession?” Guy said with a strange note in his voice.
“You know it all, Guy. That’s why I’m telling you. In a way, your family and mine are bound together The richest family in the Valley, descendants of the old squattocracy, and an Irish immigrant who arrived in this country as a penniless boy with only a kindly great-aunt to take him in. Why did my mother choose the man she did? Why did my mother choose my father when even my father believes he wasn’t her heart’s choice?”
Guy took his time before he answered. “Your mother was pregnant at the time of her marriage, Alana. She married the father of her child. It’s as simple as that. She did what she believed was right.”
