Heart of the Outback (35 page)

Something was missing. More than one something, two.

It was their first Christmas without Richard. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he thought of his son. Richard had dearly loved the feel and the celebration of Christmas time. His eyes would light up like a child when he knew it was close and he always decorated the tree and house with streamers and tinsel. He gave out the presents from under the tree, he even played appropriate songs on his guitar, not very well, but no-one cared. Thinking, remembering, CJ lifted the champagne glass to his lips and after a silent salute to Richard’s memory took a long swallow.

It hurt, remembering. Remembering what had been and what could never be the same again.

And he missed
her.
Francey. The realisation came as no surprise. Her zest for life and her infectious brightness had lifted the household out of the doldrums since Richard’s passing. She was a true breath of fresh air. Suddenly, and the thought took him by surprise, he couldn’t imagine her not being a part of life at Murrundi.

Shellie came up and stood beside him. “Are you all right?”

No, he wasn’t all right. He felt miserable. He very nearly said so in his gruff way but stopped himself. It wasn’t his sister’s fault that this melancholy had overtaken him. Damn it, he should appreciate her more. And he would. He’d make it a New Year’s resolution, be kind to old Shell. After all, she’d turned the corner with her drinking problem and even a blind man could see what she thought of her doctor. And another thing was true: Shellie was the glue that bound Murrundi together. Funny that. It was usually the outback women who did it better than the men. The
man went out and wrestled with the land, tried to bend it to his will, but the woman somehow and often quite miraculously kept everything at home running smoothly.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he lied stoically.

Shellie heard the words, the forced inflection. She knew CJ too well and knew when he was telling the truth and otherwise. Richard. She brushed back a tear. She missed him too.

F
rancey and Meredith O’Connor sat on outdoor plastic chairs on the back verandah of the O’Connor’s Bronte home while Meredith breastfed baby Mitchell who was almost four months old.

“Well, at least I had the chance to meet your man,” Meredith said. “I liked Steve. Brett liked him too, I could tell.”

“He’s a man’s man but he socialises well. We’re very
simpatici.”

Meredith’s eyebrow lifted as she stared at her friend. Wearing cut-off blue jeans and a red singlet Francey looked relaxed and happy. “So, it’s the real thing? The ghosts from the past have gone?”

“You bet,” Francey said with a grin, using the phrase Steve was fond of. The two days of Steve’s leave in Sydney had passed in a whirl. They’d spent as much time as they could together. Played tourist,
gone to the beach, and he’d even come home for dinner the night before he left, much to the raised eyebrows of her mother and the delight of her father. Carlo had shamelessly sounded him out on his prospects, his assets and if he liked children.

Remembering, her cheeks warmed becomingly. Later, Steve had laughed at her embarrassment, accepting it all in good grace. Parting at the airport the next morning had been a real wrench for both of them. It would be several weeks before she returned to Murrundi because CJ had sent a fax asking her to choose his Sydney property. She expected to do lots of hoofing around before she found suitable real estate. That he was showing sufficient trust in her to handle such an important and expensive transaction boosted her confidence enormously.

Francey studied Mitchell’s fair hair, inherited from his father, and his dark blue eyes which came from Meredith’s side of the family. For a moment she tried to imagine herself with a baby of her own, but couldn’t. She wasn’t ready yet, and wouldn’t be for a few more years. There remained buildings to design, and CJ’s business to learn properly.

“I’ll put this little man down then we’ll have a cup of tea,” Meredith promised as she took a sleepy Mitchell to his room.

Left alone, Francey’s thoughts returned to Steve. She hadn’t believed she would meet someone she would be so compatible with, not after Bryan, but she had. One thing niggled at her consciousness though, she knew that he kept a part of himself to himself. She was sure it had something to do with what had happened during his time in the NSW Police Service.
She knew about the bungled drug raid and how his partner had almost been killed. Sam Bianchini had gone to great lengths to tell her the tale at Pierre’s birthday party. But she sensed that wasn’t all. Perhaps Meredith knew more, but would she tell her?

Meredith wheeled the tea trolley out, complete with an array of iced cakes arranged on a china plate, and broke her train of thoughts. “Motherhood suits you,” Francey complimented as she watched her friend pour two cups of tea.

“That’s what everyone says. Even the guys from my section can’t believe how maternal I’ve become. They rib me unmercifully, of course. I love it though, being with him, watching him grow and learn to do new things every day. Going back to work in a couple of months will be hard, but it’s a financial necessity.”

“Brett’s finding it tough? Not much work around?”

Meredith’s shoulders shrugged. “Doubtless you know the building trade’s tight at the moment. We’re getting by, but with the mortgage, I don’t have the luxury of choosing to stay at home. Hopefully it’ll be just for a few years.”

Francey nodded in sympathy. She was no stranger to life’s struggles. She’d watched her parents labour for years to pay off their mortgage and while they had, they still worked long hours to bring in a reasonable income. “Now that I’m working for CJ I might be able to push some work Brett’s way — if he comes in with the right price. CJ’s asked me to look at some Sydney real estate while I’m here, with a view to either building or renovating a home somewhere on the harbour. He wants a mooring too,
naturally. I’m not quite sure why he wants a Sydney home when he spends about eighty per cent of his time at Murrundi, but who am I to argue with the boss? I’ve looked around a bit already and it’s interesting, seeing the market place from a different angle, a purchaser rather than an architect.”

“So that’s why you’ve been running all over the place. Seen anything you like?”

Francey laughed. “Plenty. I’ve been in and out of so many mansions my head’s spinning. I’ve found two pieces of real estate that could suit. One at Kirribilli, near Careening Bay. The other’s at Point Piper, a stone’s throw from Felix Bay. Both properties are old, they need a lot of work, so perhaps it’d be better to bulldoze and start from scratch. The potential’s there, with million dollar views to boot.”

“And you’ll do the design, of course.”

“Of course. CJ will have to give final approval and he’ll decide which property and whether it’s to be renovated or totally rebuilt.” She grinned. “You know, I’ve always wanted to design a mansion on the harbour.”

“CJ Ambrose keeps you busy. How do you find time for Steve?”

“Oh, we manage. I don’t mean to make CJ sound like a slavedriver, he isn’t. If you do what he wants when he wants you to do it he doesn’t interfere with your social life. If he did I’d have something to say about it.”

It was Meredith’s turn to grin. “I imagine you would.” Her friend had never been backward about laying her cards on the table, or righting a wrong when she’d perceived one had been done.

“Meredith …” she began tentatively, the need to know had been building inside her since they’d had their first cup of tea. “Tell me about Steve. You know about him, don’t you? The real reason he left Sydney.”

Meredith stared at her friend, seeming to deliberate for a long moment. Finally she nodded, “If you want me to. You know, I’m sure a lot of what happened has been blown out of proportion. Cops are the worst or the best gossips in the world and keeping a secret if you’re in the job is impossible. As it was told to me, Steve was knocked about emotionally by what happened to his partner, or rather nearly happened to her. And you probably know that his superior put him into another section. Time passed and he seemed to settle, though, reputedly, he hated shuffling papers.

“One night, he was off-duty but still had his gun on under his jacket. The story goes that he went into a local bottle shop to buy a carton of beer and got caught up in a robbery in progress. Apparently he froze, couldn’t respond, and he did nothing because both crims had guns. He was, according to some, in a position where he could have drawn his gun and taken control. He didn’t. Theoretically, and the opinion’s divided, he did the right thing by playing it safe and not putting the shopkeeper in danger. The shopkeeper could have been hit if shots were exchanged, but the other school of thought, from the gung ho brigade, was that he should have taken more positive action but chickened out.”

“Did he get into trouble with, what do you call it, internal affairs?”

“There was the inevitable inquiry.” Meredith’s eyebrows rose. “Steve was unofficially reprimanded for not taking the initiative, mostly because the crims got away and haven’t been caught. He had another psychological evaluation which decided that he was fit for duty and was moved to yet another department.” Meredith thought for a moment. “I guess those in command were making it clear to Steve that he’d let the force down.”

Francey looked at her friend. “How do you know all this? I mean, you’re in forensics, it’s not your field at all.”

“I checked a few things out myself. I had to know because I wanted to make sure my friend wasn’t getting tied up with someone who, maybe, had some unresolved problems.”

“Do you think he has problems?”

Meredith’s expression remained thoughtful. “I think he
had
problems, but after meeting him and from what you’ve told me about how he handles his work in Mt Isa, how he rescued you and everything, I’d say his problems are in the past.” She didn’t add, but couldn’t deny the thought … Providing he didn’t become involved in any life and death situations in which guns played a part. That could prove stressful to him.

Meredith saw that Francey needed more convincing. “Look, Steve’s an okay guy and a good cop. Policing is tough these days with so many crazies around and the politics of it all. Everyone’s under pressure, especially cops in the front line. Sometimes, it all becomes too much and when it does one never knows how one’s going to react. What happened to Steve could happen to anyone.”

“You could say the same for most professions today, there’s pressure everywhere.”

“Right,” Meredith agreed.

“You know,” Francey decided it was time to change the subject, “I might get Brett to come with me and look at those houses on the harbour. I’d value his opinion.”

“I’m sure he’d love to. Over the Christmas and New Year break there’s not much work being done.”

Francey stayed on for dinner and didn’t leave until well after 10 p.m., but she returned to her parents home in Glebe with a lighter heart. She had gleaned more information about Steve, what made him tick, what made him tense. She understood why he hadn’t wanted to tell her what had happened. He had his pride which had been dented by the experience of learning that he was fallible. Knowing about it would help her in her relationship with him, she was sure of it.

Francey stood in the conservatory looking out as the rain sheeted down, obliterating everything beyond three metres from view. She had never seen rain like it. It went on and on, relentlessly. Day and night. Occasionally it stopped, which lulled her into a false sense of hope that it was over, but then more dark clouds would roll in and down it came again. Les had said they got such weather every few years and often it went on for weeks. Unbelievable.

Thank goodness the mini conference centre had the roof and walls up, which meant some tradesmen could do internal work under Pierre’s supervision. Pierre had to use a cane to support his still weak leg,
but at least he was back on the job and so was Lisa. Her efficiency at running the day-to-day affairs of CJ’s business had been sorely missed.

She was glad they were leaving on a commercial flight tomorrow for Singapore. She enjoyed the light, the sun, the warmth. Days and days of rain and mud and slush had caused her personality to wallow, making her understand the meaning of the phrase, “gone troppo”!

She went into her cubbyhole office to survey the half finished building plans for CJ’s art museum. Goodness knows when she would get the opportunity to finish them, especially now that CJ had exchanged contracts on the Kirribilli property and wanted the house torn down and a new, illustrious mansion designed and built by the end of the year.

On one of her brief visits Natalie had expressed amusement and some derision that CJ was building another
something
— but not something he could make money from, snidely implying that he was doing it just to keep Francey in work. CJ’s stepdaughter had snubbed her time and time again during her two days at Murrundi, making it clear that she couldn’t stand the sight of her.

What was the woman’s problem? she wondered. She appeared to be, ridiculous as it seemed, jealous of her relationship with CJ, which didn’t make any sense to her. Francey chewed her lip thoughtfully as she studied the plan on the drawing board, making some pencil notes on the side of the paper. She wasn’t too cut up about Natalie’s behaviour; she hadn’t been overly taken with the self-indulgent woman, her dislike was something she could live with. As long as
they weren’t in close proximity to each other very often.

Her thoughts turned to something more pleasurable: the forthcoming trip. A shiver of childlike excitement raced through her, she was looking forward to seeing new places and meeting new people. Oh, she knew it would be a working holiday but she was equally sure that there would be compensations along the way.

Singapore lived up to Francey’s expectation of being all and more than she had hoped it would be. The sights, the sounds and even the smell and bustle of the place enthralled her.

They were ensconced in the luxurious penthouse suite of the Meridian Mandarin hotel, which had a panoramic view of Singapore’s busy harbour and parts of the highrise buildings surrounding the city.