Undercurrents Page 9

  The two women stood and faced one another, and Olivia realised Irene hadn’t changed much despite the passage of twenty years. At fifty, her hair probably owed more to peroxide than nature, but it was beautifully cut and dressed. The face was lightly made–up, the nails long and polished with red varnish. She was wearing white moleskins that emphasised her slender hips and long legs, and the tan of her shirt was the exact colour of her eyes.

  ‘Hello,’ Olivia said breathlessly. ‘I’m …’

  ‘I know who you are,’ came the cold response. ‘What do you want?’

  She had so much wanted this to work, but the greeting swept away any such illusion. Olivia felt the trembling begin in her legs but was determined to finish what she’d started. ‘I’ve come from the other side of the world to see you. Surely, after all this time you could at least be civil?’

  ‘Why?’ Irene’s expression was unreadable. ‘We have nothing to say to one another.’

  Olivia desperately wanted to sit down. Her legs were about to give out on her, but she was determined to show no weakness in front of Irene. ‘Mother died eight months ago. I thought you should know.’

  A glimmer of something momentarily touched those cold eyes then was gone. ‘So?’ was all she said.

  The anger was beginning to well. Didn’t this woman feel anything? ‘She hadn’t been well for a long time,’ she said, her voice breaking with the intensity of her emotions. ‘The doctors diagnosed disseminated sclerosis, and coupled with brittle bones, her last few years were very painful. I was alone with her when she died.’

  ‘Poor you.’ The tone was flat, the lack of sympathy insulting.

  ‘Poor Mother,’ exploded Olivia. ‘She wanted to hear from you. Wanted to heal the breach before it was too late. But you never wrote back to her. Never tried to make things up between you.’

  ‘I have a busy life. She chose to go to England. Why should I be the one to make amends just because she was crook?’

  Olivia stared at her, the words for once lost by the sheer arrogance of the woman standing before her.

  Irene shot a glare at the silent Giles before folding her arms and returning her attention to Olivia. ‘I haven’t heard from her solicitors,’ she said coldly. ‘No doubt they are still working out probate.’ Her eyes took on a cold gleam. ‘How much did she leave?’

  Olivia finally found her voice. ‘Probate came through quickly, and the solicitors asked me to give you these.’ She handed over the velvet boxes, glad to be rid of them.

  Irene took the boxes and with a cursory glance through the contents turned her gaze back on Olivia. ‘Is that it? Her tone was icy, the suspicion and avarice battling in her eyes.

  Olivia nodded. ‘There’s a copy of her will. Clause fifteen makes everything quite clear. So there’s no point in trying to change things.’

  William had emerged from the gloom of the house accompanied by an aboriginal girl laden with a tea tray. He must have sensed the frigid atmosphere, for his smile was uncertain. ‘Good to see you again, Olivia,’ he said awkwardly. ‘There’s plenty of room here if you both want to stay a while,’ he offered. ‘Long drive back to Trinity.’

  ‘They’re leaving,’ said Irene.

  ‘Aw, come on, Irene. It’s been years since you two have seen one another. Let bygones be bygones and lighten up for once.’

  She turned on him, her voice a hiss. ‘Stay out of this, William.’

  Olivia touched his arm. ‘Good to see you again, William, sorry we’ve intruded.’ She smiled at him, seeing the confusion in his face. ‘By the way, is Jessie still alive?’

  ‘What do you want her for?’ Irene’s eyes had taken on a guarded sheen, her mouth thinned to an ugly line.

  William frowned and looked from one woman to the other. ‘Who’s Jessie?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s dead,’ snapped Irene. ‘Went a couple of years back.’

  Olivia stared at Irene and felt the loathing return. There had been a glimmer of hope that things could have changed between them. Now she knew they never would. For the loathing was mutual. Yet it was a blow to learn Jessie had died. She’d hoped for so much, now it looked as if she would never learn the truth.

  Irene’s gaze was cold and penetrating as they stood facing one another. Olivia swallowed. She’d come this far, it would be stupid not to at least try and gain some answers. Pulling a sheaf of papers from her trouser pockets, she held them up. ‘Do you know anything about this, Irene?’

  The papers trembled in Irene’s hand as she quickly scanned through them and handed them back. Her expression was inscrutable. ‘News to me,’ she snapped.

  Olivia searched for some sign of prevarication in that cold face and saw only disdain. Whatever secrets Eva had shared with Irene had died along with Jessie.

  With an offer to William to visit them in Trinity during their stay, Olivia and Giles climbed back into the utility. Her hands were damp on the steering wheel as she turned the ute and headed back towards the first gate. She was trembling so badly her foot was jerking on the clutch pedal, and she nearly stalled the engine twice before she got herself back in control.

  Olivia drove as if the horsemen of the apocalypse were after her. Drove so the cloud of dust shrouded the view behind her and blotted out the woman on the verandah. ‘Bitch,’ she spat. ‘Two–faced, self–indulgent, arrogant bitch. God only knows how I didn’t slap her bloody face.’

  ‘I think you’d better tell me what all that was about,’ said Giles as he calmly lit a cigar.

  She finally slewed the ute to the side of the road and killed the engine. They were in the heart of the outback, miles from the homestead with still miles to go before they reached Trinity. The sun was setting and the purple and pink lit up the sky and drenched the land in a soft glow. The harsh reality of this outback world was achingly beautiful – with a sense of peace and tranquillity that washed through her and calmed the trembling. Yet the anger remained, cold and hidden deep inside her, making her more determined than ever to find the answers she’d come here for.

  She stared out into the dying sun until the trees were mere black silhouettes and the birds had finally come back to their roosts. Then she turned to look at Giles. His woeful expression made her smile. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured.

  He shrugged. ‘As long as it made you feel better,’ he replied. ‘But give me some warning next time and I’ll strap myself in. You’re more dangerous than bandits at twelve o’clock, and without the old Spitfire, I feel somewhat vulnerable.’ They smiled at one another as the tension immediately eased. He lifted an eyebrow, his expression quizzical. ‘I must say, Ollie, you don’t pick your friends wisely. Who the hell is that awful woman back there?’

  Olivia turned from him and concentrated on the surrounding beauty of the dying day. ‘She’s no friend,’ she said bitterly. ‘Irene’s my sister.’

  7

  Darkness fell and once again Giles helped Olivia erect the tent Sam had lent them. He knew she’d tried to take on the more difficult aspects in order to save his embarrassment, but had firmly refused to be given any quarter even though he found it heavy going with one arm. Combined with the ache in the stump and his own frustration, he was exhausted when they finally had it firmly tethered. Yet he refused to give in to it.

  ‘Now for a fire,’ he said. ‘Can’t have a camp without a camp fire.’

  Olivia laughed. ‘An old boy scout never dies,’ she teased. ‘Dib, dib, dub.’

  They collected rocks and wood from beneath a stand of trees and Giles guided her as she made up the fire to the specifications he’d followed the previous night. The rocks surrounded the shallow pit he’d scooped out and the flames leaped hungrily through the bleached wood as he snapped off his lighter. As they’d learned the night before, it was surprisingly cold out here in the middle of nowhere and they stretched out their hands to the warmth.

  Giles watched the fir
elight flicker over Olivia’s face and thought she had never looked more beautiful. There was a smudge on her nose, her hair was coming loose from the tight coil and strands of it curled and snaked down her neck. It was going to be another long night, he thought wistfully. Knowing she was so near and yet out of reach was almost unbearable.

  Olivia caught him watching her and giggled. ‘Two nights alone. We will cause a scandal. We’re hardly children any more, so I hope you’re going to continue to behave like an officer and gentleman?’

  Giles grinned at her teasing and tried to appear nonchalant. ‘Don’t worry, Ollie. I’m almost ‘armless.’

  Her giggles stopped and she looked stricken. ‘Don’t, Giles. It’s not funny.’

  He shrugged and looked into the flames. ‘At least I can joke about it now,’ he said lightly. ‘There was a time when I couldn’t bear to even think about it.’

  Needing to change the subject and the mood, he decided it was time to eat. Sam had instructed him in the art of ‘bush tea making’, but he still wasn’t sure if he’d got the hang of it. He picked up the tin contraption Sam called a billy and filled it from the giant container of water they carried in the back of the utility. Tossing in a handful of tea and a eucalyptus leaf he set the billy in the heart of the fire.

  Olivia fetched the last of the packets of sandwiches from the utility and unwrapped the greaseproof paper. The bread was stale after being in the heat, and the tomatoes were warm and soggy, but they ate with relish as their backs froze and their faces burned.

  Giles chewed the sandwich and looked out over the silent, moonlit landscape that was so alien to anything he’d ever known. It was a powerful place, this Australian outback, he acknowledged. Unchanged since time began, it echoed something primal within him that he couldn’t ignore, and sitting here in the silence beneath a canopy of stars that dominated and enthralled, he thought he could understand how the aboriginal myths had come about.

  ‘It’s a wonderful sight, isn’t it?’ said Olivia as she leaned against a log and looked up. ‘I wish I knew more about the stars, but we so rarely see them in London one almost forgets they’re there.’

  Giles was for once thankful for the hours he’d wiled away in the library during those interminable months of recuperation. ‘When I knew we were coming here, I did some research,’ he said. ‘There are a lot of books on the Aboriginal Dreamtime, and the sun, the moon and the stars play an important part in their folklore.’

  Her face was beautiful in the flickering light, her eyes shining with enthusiasm as she hugged her knees like a schoolgirl. ‘I love stories. Do tell.’

  He looked up, trying to think where to start. ‘The Aborigines believe that during the creation, the stars and planets were once men, women and animals who flew up to the sky and sought refuge in the forms we see now. The moon is male, and associated with many stories about the origins of death, for the moon dies and is reborn each month. The sky itself is believed to be the home of the spirits, and a shooting star is seen as a spirit canoe carrying the soul of a dead man to a new land.’

  ‘So it’s male dominated, just like down here,’ said Olivia with a touch of asperity.

  Giles chuckled. ‘Not at all. The sun is female and much revered. She wanders across the skies spreading light and warmth, taking a long road in summer and a much shorter one in winter. She is usually called Mother Sun, for she brings comfort and warmth and life. In some myths, Mother Sun was actually the creator of life on the earth.’

  ‘What do these myths have to say about Orion?’ she asked as she tilted back her head and looked at the great constellation. ‘I know about his belt, and his dogs, but not much more, and I’d forgotten one could see it here in the Southern Hemisphere.’

  He was glad she’d chosen Orion, for the myths about the Southern Cross were few and almost incomprehensible. ‘No belt or dogs in the native story,’ he said quietly. ‘Look at Orion and see if you can make out what they believe.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘In the early times there were three hunters. Birubiru, Jandirngala and Nuruwulping.’ He stumbled over the tongue–twisting names he’d taken an age to memorise and which were probably pronounced quite differently from his poor attempt.

  ‘In the Dry season they spent days fishing from their canoe, which they called Julpan. They managed to catch only kingfish, which was unfortunate, for being of the totem of the kingfish they were forbidden to eat it. Eventually they were so hungry they agreed they would have to eat whatever they caught. Their children and wives were starving. So they fished and again, only pulled in three kingfish, which they prepared to take back to camp to eat.’

  ‘The sun saw what they were doing and called up a great storm to stop them from breaking the most sacred Law. The clouds, the sea and the wind combined to make a great waterspout over Julpan the canoe. Julpan’s nose turned upwards and they all flew round and round and up and up within the spinning column of water. The three men clung on to their fishing lines as they were spun high into the sky and left there for all eternity.’

  He leaned closer to Olivia and pointed out the stars. ‘The canoe and the three fishermen form the stars of Orion. Their fish are the tiny stars below the canoe, still trailing on the lines of string.’

  ‘That was lovely,’ she breathed. ‘And so believable in these ancient surroundings.’

  ‘Tea’s up,’ he declared as the water bubbled in the billy. He took the smoke–stained tin can off the fire and was almost tempted to swing it round as Sam had demonstrated, but discretion being the better part of valour, he decided not to risk getting them both scalded, and poured out the tea into thick china mugs. They drank it without milk, but with a lot of sugar as was the traditional way. It was dark and strong, the mixture of eucalyptus and smoke giving it a strange, but not unpleasant flavour.

  ‘So,’ he began once they’d settled back against the log. ‘Are you going to tell me about this sister of yours?’

  Olivia sipped her tea, her gaze fixed to the awesome display above her. ‘I don’t really know much about her,’ she admitted. ‘We left here when I was ten, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.’

  ‘Despite the years apart, there’s obviously ill feeling between you,’ murmured Giles. ‘Could have cut the atmosphere with a knife back there.’

  Olivia remained silent. The ill will had been so much a part of her childhood it had almost become natural and therefore accepted. It saddened her, for Irene was the only relative she still had, and it would have been a comfort to be able to talk with her, to share the worrying revelations in those pieces of paper she’d found.

  Giles poked the fire and added the last of the wood. ‘I must say, Eva kept very quiet about Irene. Never knew you had a sister at all until today. Came as quite a shock.’

  Olivia smiled. Darling Giles. So English, so predictable. It was only since coming back here that she realised just how different he was from the Australian men – but it was a good difference, for Giles would always be dependable. Would always do the right thing. Not like Sam, who was handsome and devilish and swaggered through life as if it owed him something.

  ‘Mother and Irene fell out years ago. I never knew why. Perhaps it was something to do with Irene marrying William.’ She glanced at Giles over her shoulder and smiled. ‘He wasn’t gentry, you see. Just a dirt farmer without much education or class as far as Mother was concerned. I think she had high hopes of Irene doing rather well in the marriage stakes.’

  She giggled and poked the toe of her boot against a fallen branch and pushed it back into the fire. ‘We both disappointed her there,’ she added. ‘But at least I had the war as an excuse for not hitching my wagon to some handsome flying officer – I was far too busy working and having fun to get serious over some man. Too many of our nurses ended up marrying Yanks, and I bet they’re regretting it.’

  ‘You’d have thought Eva would have changed her mind as t
he years went on,’ Giles murmured. ‘After all, the marriage obviously works. They are still together.’

  ‘Once Eva made her mind up about something, nothing could shift her,’ Olivia replied. ‘You know how she was. Totally unreasonable, and wouldn’t have dreamed of admitting she could have been wrong.’

  Giles remained silent and they both stared into the flames. ‘That’s what is so sad, really,’ Olivia sighed. ‘Mother tried to make amends towards the end, but the damage had been done. It was too late. Irene never answered her letters.’

  Olivia listened to the crackling wood and watched the sparks drift up towards the night sky. The memories were haunting, and she wished she hadn’t stirred them up by visiting Irene.

  ‘I’ve told you a story. Now it’s your turn,’ Giles said. ‘Tell me what happened after your parents found one another again.’

  Olivia’s smile was grateful. Giles always knew when she needed to be taken out of her dark thoughts. What would she do without him if he went off and married someone? The thought was startling and she pushed it away. They were close friends, surely nothing would change that?

  She stared into the fire and thought she could hear Eva’s voice again. They had done a lot of talking those last few months, and Olivia had learned a great deal more about her parents than she’d ever done before.

  ‘My father had been swept overboard and managed to cling on to a lifebelt all through that terrible night. He was washed ashore just before dawn along with several others and taken in by the people of Ranjimup. My parents stayed in the little settlement on the western coast until Eva’s sunburn had healed and she felt strong enough to travel again. Father tried to book passage for them, but Eva flatly refused to set foot on another ship.’ Olivia smiled. ‘I can hardly blame her, not after what she’d just experienced.’

  *

  The Nullabor Plain was a waterless, endless desert where there were no trees, no birds and only the sturdiest of grasses and scrub could survive. Eva had learned from their guide that the word Nullabor was the aboriginal for place with no trees, and she could see why. It was desolate. Like the rest of this raw young country it was surely a test of survival?