FOLLOW THE MORNING STAR (16 page)

‘What’s left after that pig-out breakfast,’ laughed Sherry.

‘No, no, I couldn’t,’ protested Saskia.

‘Well, let’s go look anyway.’ Julie was adamant. They dived beneath a wave and when they surfaced they started discussing the boys they’d met the night before.

They went shopping that afternoon and Saskia found the ideal outfit. She bought a long white silk beach sarong, its hem hand-painted in a pale and delicate ring of shells. It was hanging on a street stall and cost forty-five dollars. Julie and Sherry were dubious but Saskia was pleased. ‘I know exactly what I’ll do with it,’ she smiled.

The following morning she came back from the beach, showered and rubbed lotion on her skin. She towelled her hair dry and ran her fingers through it to style it, then put on a little make-up, just lipstick and eye shadow. Her thick dark lashes didn’t need mascara, and her skin glowed with health and youth. She then wound the sarong around her body, knotting it above her breasts so she had a white strapless figure-hugging dress. The line of shells followed the curves around her body and she set it off with a dramatic necklace she’d made from shells she and Queenie had once collected on Neptune Island.

‘My God, only you would have thought of wearing that like that, Sas. It’s a knockout,’ exclaimed Julie.

‘It needs a little final touch,’ said Saskia.

‘No earrings, nothing else,’ said Sherry.

But with a single frangipani flower tucked into the side of her dark curls both girls agreed she looked stunning.

However, Saskia felt tense and self-conscious as she rang the doorbell of the penthouse. A waiter opened the door and stood back. The large room and terrace seemed to be filled with people who all turned and stared at her. Then Dina was bearing down on her, followed by her father. As she crossed the white carpet, Dina’s smile looked set in cement. She was wearing a scarlet silk pantsuit and a lot of gold jewellery and she suddenly felt much older than she believed she looked.

‘Saskia, I’m so glad Colin asked you over,’ Dina said coldly.

‘Ciao
little one,’ Alfredo Camboni said, making no attempt to disguise his lecherous expression. ‘You have grown into a beauty. A madonna. So pretty, so perfect.’ He embraced her, pressing her body to his. Over his shoulder Saskia saw Colin coming to her rescue. She extricated herself and Colin kissed her lightly on the cheek.

‘Come and get a drink and let me be the first to show you off.’ He took her hand and led her away. Dina and her father exchanged a look and followed them.

Colin had covered his surprise at how
stunning Saskia looked. This was not the horse-mad girl he’d been expecting, but a gorgeous nubile young woman. He eyed her body beneath the light silk and visualised her firm lean flesh. Seducing her would be one delightful way to get back at Queenie, but already he could feel Dina’s eyes on him and he knew she was reading his mind.

Saskia became the immediate hit of the party, the women commenting on how adorable and how darling her dress was. ‘You made your necklace! My, you are so talented, so artistic.’ Some were sincere, some gushed, many of the men leered openly.

Small groups of men huddled together discussing development projects, investment opportunities, land deals, racing tips and gambling adventures. Their conversation stilled as Saskia was steered about the room. Two of the younger associates made a beeline for her and cornered her, each trying to outdo the other in flattery and to impress her with their credentials of expensive European sports cars and the latest places on the Coast to eat and dance. Was she going to the Magic Millions ball? Had she tried Ambrettas yet? Did she know the De Lancias? Was she going to the party for the Count di Manzonni? Would she like to go?

Saskia shook her head and laughed. ‘I move in a different world to yours’, and swept away, leaving the young men wondering what social milieu they’d missed out on.

Lunch was a buffet spread on a long table on the terrace and as people found places to settle themselves to eat, Colin steered Saskia to a
quieter corner where only two could fit at a small white wrought-iron table.

‘This damn thing wobbles,’ he warned, ‘so don’t be surprised if your lunch ends up in your lap. This place is filled with the most impossible furniture.’

‘You and Dina live here?’

‘God no. This is Alfredo’s place — the lair of the silver fox. We’re staying here while we decide what we’re doing.’ He looked faintly uncomfortable for the first time. ‘Dina and I only got back from Europe a few weeks ago. We’ve been away a long time. Out of touch.’

Saskia looked steadily into his face. ‘I noticed.’

He winced and picked up his glass of wine. ‘Ouch. You’re very like your mother.’ He paused. ‘How is she?’

‘Coping. As she always does. TR’s accident has been hard on all of us, but especially on her.’

‘Accident? What happened?’ Colin’s heart missed a beat. This could be the opportunity he’d been looking for.

‘Dina didn’t tell you?’

‘No,’ said Colin, glancing over at Dina who was perched on a bar stool, her legs crossed, the scarlet silk stretched over a bulging thigh, one gold sandal dangling from the tip of her foot. He turned his attention away but Saskia caught the disdainful expression that had flitted momentarily across his face. Briefly she filled him in on TR and what Tango was doing and how Queenie was running Tingulla and Cricklewood.

‘What’s happening with Cricklewood? It’s always been undeveloped.’

‘You have been away a long time.’ She told him about the stud cattle programme and research they were doing into the new strains of beef cattle.

He listened with interest, filing away this valuable information. ‘Queenie and TR have got it made, eh?’ he said, not looking so pleased at the thought. ‘And what about the old . . . hierarchy — Millie, Jim and Snowy — are they still around?’

‘Of course!’

‘Are you going to tell them, or your mother, that you saw me?’

‘Do you want me to?’

‘Better not open old wounds while your mother is so vulnerable,’ Colin said. He didn’t want Queenie to know he was around. She’d be on her guard and Colin preferred to have the advantage of surprise.

‘I often wondered how someone like you could go from being brought up at Tingulla to living in the fleshpots of Europe.’

‘A quote from your mother?’

Saskia pushed salad into her mouth to avoid answering.

Colin changed the subject. ‘So what are you doing?’

‘Studying to be a vet, but now I’m not sure I want to be one. I’m thinking of opting out for a year and maybe starting all over again doing something else outside of uni. But what, I’m not sure.’

‘What are you interested in?’

‘Horses.’

‘Couldn’t you do something specifically with horses and parlay some of your vet’s knowledge into that as well?’ Colin offered Kindly Uncle advice, but it occurred to him Saskia could be a useful pawn against Queenie.

‘Would be nice. I’m just so fed up with everything, but I can’t take off and leave Mum while TR is in such bad shape. He can’t even walk.’

‘Christ, he must be smashed up pretty bad. But people do come back. I remember some rodeo clowns and riders who got busted and trodden on by a bull and they came back good as gold. Had bits of metal and pins where bones were, but they were tough.’ Colin thought back to the first confrontation he’d had with TR — at Queenie’s twenty-first party. Then later at the McPherson Endurance Ride. TR was tough all right, but in a quiet steely way that could be very deceptive. He was a formidable opponent, but with him out of the way Queenie was even more open to attack.

‘What are you thinking?’ Saskia was watching him and Colin realised he’d been quiet for longer than normal.

‘Oh, just old stuff.’ He stood quickly. ‘I’m going to get a refill, how’s your drink?’

‘Fine thanks.’ Saskia returned to her meal. The food was delicious but she suspected it had all been catered. She couldn’t imagine Dina donning the frilly apron and whipping up this spread. She was no stereotypical Italian mama at home amongst the oregano and tomato paste.

Colin returned with drinks, insisting Saskia have another. Family business was forgotten as he charmed her with stories of his travels in Europe. Saskia found his company beguiling. He was an intriguing man, but there was something sinister about him. Still, Julie and Sherry would think her handsome and elegant uncle was to die for.

Colin was in the middle of an anecdote when Dina interrupted. ‘Darling,’ she smiled, ‘you do have other guests, though I can see Saskia is hanging on your every word. Don’t believe everything he tells you, dear.’

Colin looked sheepishly at Saskia and followed his wife. They didn’t have the opportunity for another private chat before it was time for Saskia to leave. She went in search of her uncle to say goodbye and found him standing by the bar, Dina clinging to his arm. It was a possessive and defensive gesture and Colin looked uncomfortable. He unhooked her arm as she spoke. ‘But, Saskia, the party isn’t over! We’ll go on till dark and then out somewhere, there are so many places to go on the Coast now.’

‘Thank you anyway, Dina. I told my friends I was just going for lunch. We have to pack up, we’re going early in the morning.’ She turned to Colin and impulsively gave him a quick hug. ‘Thanks, Uncle Colin.’

‘Call me again,’ he whispered in her ear as he gave her a quick squeeze. ‘Hey,’ he said aloud, ‘I think we can drop the uncle now, it makes me feel ancient.’

The lift doors hummed open and Saskia
walked through the air-conditioned, mirrored lobby, pressed the button to open the security doors, and stepped into the warm air of the street. She took a deep breath and relaxed for the first time since she’d walked into the apartment building. Somehow she knew she’d call Colin again. But what would she tell her mother?

Twirling the keys to the rental car she started to think how she’d recount the lunch to Sherry and Julie. How would she begin to describe Dina? Thinking of her cream-puff face, Saskia decided Dina had the face of a milkmaid and the tongue of a viper. She began to imitate Dina’s mincing walk and Gina Lollobrigida accent. The girls were going to love it.

Chapter Eleven

TR joined a group of patients beneath a spreading poinciana tree in the hospital gardens, giving a strong push to move his wheelchair off the path onto the grass in the shade.

It was a mixed group but he had a special friendship with Dennis, an apprentice jockey who had taken a bad fall during a race. His arms as well as his legs had been injured and another mobile patient pushed his wheelchair along. TR recognised the young boy was going through the same thing as he was. Dennis was swamped in depression and self-pity for a promising career over at seventeen.

Gently TR tried to explain what Jenni had told him. ‘Getting over a bad accident isn’t just dealing with the broken bones, mate. It’s in the head and mind too. We have to go through the various stages of the grieving process. I feel just like you do. So hang in there, kid.’

The boy looked unconvinced despite the fleeting grin he gave in gratitude for the kind words and caring smile.

‘Hey, TR, your slave-driver approaches,’ announced one of the group.

TR pretended to groan as he saw the slight figure of Jenni in her pale blue uniform marching towards them.

‘Can’t a bloke enjoy a bit of a yarn with his mates?’ asked TR as she started to shake a finger at him.

‘You were supposed to meet me at eleven. Smoko’s over, boys. Come on, TR. We’re walking today.’

‘Just like that? Up and bloody walk,’ said TR in genuine amazement.

‘Good a day as any, I reckon,’ responded Jenni, grasping the back of his wheelchair and turning him back towards the path. ‘See you fellows later.’

‘Don’t chase the nurses, TR.’

‘Break a leg as the actors say.’

‘See you on the basketball court.’

The good-natured banter echoed after them as Jenni pushed him firmly towards her ground-floor exercise room.

‘You serious about this then, are you?’

‘You sound nervous, TR.’

‘I’ve just got the hang of this damned chair. Am I getting one of those walker contraptions or dragging myself along the parallel bars or what?’

‘Now your arm is okay we can get you onto crutches.’ They went through the automatic doors into the hallway leading to what TR called Jenni’s torture chamber.