Home Before Sundown (6 page)

Bella glared at the obstinate old grader, wiped her sweaty face on her shirtsleeve and glared at it again.

Her day had not started well. The machinery shed was already stinking hot, even though she'd thrown all the doors open, and now the damn grader wouldn't start. She pressed the starter button again and listened without much hope while the motor strained, trying . . .
trying . . .
to kick over.

To her surprise, it gave a loud
phut
this time – the sound that usually preceded a diesel motor chugging to life – but then the bloody thing sputtered and stopped again.

Heap of shit
.

The grader was an old thing her dad had bought second-hand from the council to use on roads and firebreaks, but Bella didn't have a clue how to fix it. If it had a petrol motor, she could have checked the spark plugs, at least, but a diesel motor didn't have spark plugs. She'd hit a brick wall.

Thoroughly annoyed, she stabbed the starter one more time. Stabbed it hard, angrily. And – what the hell – stabbed it again.

It gave a sick click and . . . died.

Silence filled the shed.

She'd flattened the battery.

Bella let out a groan of pure frustration. Of all the things on the property to break down, this grader had to be the one thing she knew next to nothing about. She knew heaps about utes – she'd learned to drive at an early age, and right from the start she'd known how to change a tyre or the oil, even to replace a fan belt. She was quite at home in the workshop. She'd hung around watching, asking questions and she'd even learned how to weld and to use the bench drill.

Around the property, she was pretty useful, too. She knew about float valves in the water troughs and the gate valves on the irrigation channels.

The one domain she'd left entirely to her father and brother was tinkering under the tractor bonnet – or on this bloody grader.

Crap. She'd never get the breaks cleared at this rate.

Grim-faced, she climbed down and gave the tyre a good kick to let off steam. She wasn't going to let a piece of machinery beat her. She had to try to stay calm.

Teeth clenched, she marched to the front of the grader and inserted the crank handle through the hole. The motor was very stiff, but she kept winding and winding . . . making sure she didn't grip too hard in case it sprang to life and whacked her wrist . . .

Not a hope. The motor was dead.

Exhausted, Bella knew she was defeated. Defeated and mad. She
hated
the idea of asking for help on the very first job she tackled here at Mullinjim, but what choice did she have?

Liz was sitting at the kitchen table with Gus sprawled across her feet, poring over old recipe books when Bella stormed in.

‘Mum would never let us bring Gus inside.'

‘Grader playing up?' Liz asked lightly.

Scowling at her aunt, Bella realised Liz looked as if she'd been crying. Again. ‘Are you okay?'

‘I'm fine,' Liz said, blowing her nose. ‘Gus and I went for a nice long walk along the river this morning.'

‘Oh?'
And this produced tears?

‘There was something I needed to check out,' Liz said. ‘You know . . . a bad memory . . . ' Liz tried for a smile and missed. ‘Making peace with the past.'

‘I – I see.' Bella frowned. She didn't really see at all and she wondered if she should ask more questions. ‘So you're okay now?'

‘Yes, darling, I'm fine.'

‘You – you don't want to talk about it?'

Liz smiled and shook her head. ‘I'm fine. Honestly.'

If she wasn't so mad about the grader, Bella might have hung around to make sure Liz really was okay, but she was rather consumed by her problem.

She marched to the phone, dialled Luke's number and, just her luck, her call went straight through to his message bank.

Suppressing an urge to sigh heavily into the receiver she delivered her message. ‘Luke, it's Bella. I need to get the grader started, but it's playing up. Can you give me a call on the sat phone?'

Hanging up, she turned to Liz. ‘I've done everything possible with that thing. I'm supposed to be out there now, clearing those breaks. I'm so pissed off.'

‘If you can't get through to Luke, why don't you try Mac?'

‘I don't want to bother him. He's already taken care of our side of his boundary. He's done enough for us.'

Liz's eyebrows lifted. ‘What about Gabe then?'

‘No thanks.' Bella ignored the zap that the mere mention of Gabe's name caused. ‘I can't ask him. I've already told him I don't need his help. It would be too humiliating.'

Her aunt regarded her over the top of her reading glasses, her expression an annoying mix of amusement and disbelief.

‘Anyway, what's with the recipe books, Liz?' Bella challenged. ‘I thought you were taking out the supplements to the cows and calves.'

‘All done.'

Just showed how much time Bella had wasted on the flaming grader.

Liz closed an old exercise book and sighed. ‘I've been scouring my mother's handwritten recipes, hoping for inspiration.'

‘You don't have to worry about fancy food for me, Liz. I'd be happy with a sausage wrapped in bread.'

This made Liz laugh. ‘So would I for that matter.'

‘Matter of fact,' Bella added. ‘I've been dying to go down to the river and have a campfire. We'd need to be careful with everything so dry, but out in the sand close to the water should be okay.'

‘Sounds good. Actually we could do it tonight. It'd be fun.'

Bella nodded. ‘I'll need cheering up if I can't get this grader started.' Grabbing the sat phone from its niche above the kitchen bench, she headed outside, letting the flyscreen door slam behind her.

An hour later Bella was so fed up she thought she might self-combust. Luke hadn't rung her, she'd made no progress with the grader and her arm was almost dropping off from wrestling with the crank handle.

She was sitting, slumped on a petrol drum, holding her aching head in her hands, when she heard a vehicle pull up outside. She tensed, knowing it couldn't possibly be Luke. He was a good day's drive away at Charters Towers.

A door closed and the crunch of footsteps sounded on gravel.

Reaching for a rag, Bella wiped her greasy hands as a long-legged shadow fell across the sunlit doorway.

She jumped to her feet a split second before Gabe appeared.

‘I hear you're having trouble with the grader,' he said, strolling into the shed with the kind of nonchalant bravado of a movie cowboy entering a western saloon full of bad guys.

Bella gripped the greasy rag as if it was a weapon. ‘I told Liz not to call you. I said I can manage.'

‘Can you?'

The question floated towards her in the dusty sunshine.

Bella shot him a death stare, but he was immune to the insult and he continued walking towards her. At least he wasn't smug or smiling.

‘Have you tried, “Start You Bastard”?'

‘Great help you are.' Bella rolled her eyes. ‘I've been swearing at the bloody thing all morning.'

Gabe laughed then, his grey eyes suddenly flashing with warmth and with a sparkle that might have made her nervous if she wasn't too busy fuming.

Without another word, he walked to a shelf at the back of the shed and picked up a spray can.

‘
This
is what you need. It's an ether-based spray and it goes on the air intake.'

Oh
.

Standing still as a soldier, Bella refused to look pleased or grateful as Gabe came towards her with the can. He held it out so she could see the name clearly on the label –
Start You Bastard
.

‘Give it a go,' Gabe said. ‘I'll crank, while you spray this into the air intake.'

Bella swallowed. With the slightest dip of her head, she accepted the can and read the instructions. It was so maddening to know it had been sitting there on the shelf, staring at her all morning.

Her chin was haughtily high as she shook the can and held it in position while Gabe reinserted the crank handle.

‘Okay,' he called.

After only two goes, it started, chugging loudly.

Sooooo embarrassing
.

‘Let it run for a while,' Gabe called to her over the rattle of the motor. ‘You want to get a charge back into that battery.'

Bella nodded, grudgingly, and together they walked back to the door of the shed, away from the rumble.

‘Thanks.' She made an attempt at humility. ‘I should have known about this stuff.' She gave the can a shake, but she couldn't smile.

‘I guess I don't have to tell you that you shouldn't take the tractor out to push firebreaks till the battery's properly recharged.'

‘Yeah, I'll let it run.'

She wanted to be gracious and grateful, but she couldn't. She was mad – with herself and mad at Gabe, too, and mad with Liz who'd obviously ignored her instructions not to phone him. It was infuriating to be shown up as a helpless girl on her very first day.

‘Don't worry.' Gabe was watching her with a shrewdly narrowed gaze. ‘I'm not hanging around.' Deadpan, he added, ‘And there's no need to vent your spleen on Luke.'

Luke?
‘What do you mean?'

‘He asked me to drop over. He got your message and then he rang me. Said he knew this grader had been sitting idle for months and he guessed you'd have trouble.'

‘Well – ah – thanks. It's very good of you. I'm grateful.' Bella was wondering why Luke couldn't have just told her over the phone about a simple, magical can of spray. But she
was
grateful to have the problem solved. She just wished she didn't have to be grateful to Gabe.

He was looking way too familiar and gorgeous, standing there – all tall and tanned in a rumpled and faded cotton shirt and jeans, with that sparkling light in his eyes. The
Gabe light
, she had christened it when she was how old? Ten? Twelve?

The light had vanished two and a bit years ago when everything went wrong between them. It was beyond disconcerting to see it again now.

The sparkle was still there as Gabe opened the door of his ute and looked back at her.

‘Good to have you home,' he said and he smiled, holding her gaze for a moment too long before he hopped into the driver's seat and took off.

‘So you got the grader sorted?'

‘Yeah. Eventually. With a little help.'

Bella didn't look happy about admitting this as she marched into the kitchen, but Liz couldn't resist prodding. ‘I thought I heard a vehicle earlier.'

‘Probably Gabe. Luke sent him over.' Bella pulled a face, then turned quickly to the fridge and helped herself to the water jug.

Liz was glad Bella missed her sudden, knowing smile.

‘Or you might have heard the mail truck,' Bella said after she'd downed a glass of icy water.

‘The mailman came all the way to the homestead?'

‘Mail
woman
,' Bella corrected, raising her eyebrows as she retrieved a wad of envelopes from the back pocket of her jeans and dropped them onto the kitchen table. ‘Nikki Browne. I knew her from years ago. She used to be on the rodeo circuit and she'd heard I was back, so she called in to say hi.'

‘That's nice.'

‘You might not think so when I tell you her real agenda.'

‘Why? What is it?'

‘Nikki's a single mum,' Bella said as she refilled her glass. ‘These days she works part-time in the general store and does the mail run. And she has this little boy called Declan – he must be about five now, I guess. He's started prep.'

Liz met this news with an impatient frown. ‘Okay.'
But why should that concern me?

Shooting a look of clear sympathy over the rim of her glass, Bella said, ‘Nikki's heard that you're back. The whole district's talking about you and she thought you might like to give Declan piano lessons. She would have called in and asked you herself, but she was running late. I guess she'll be in touch.'

Shocked into silence, Liz stared at her niece.

‘Yeah, I thought you'd be pleased.' Bella grimaced and drank her second glass.

But Liz was already recovering. ‘I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised,' she said. ‘I know what it's like to live out here, miles away from concerts and music lessons. I've already had a phone call from Nancy Hedges from the CWA asking if I could play for their next function.'

‘You're joking.'

Liz shook her head.

‘What did you say?'

‘I said I might be needed here and I'd get back to her.'

‘You don't feel obliged to play, do you?'

‘No, of course I don't.' Liz gave a helpless little laugh. ‘Well, yes, I guess I do feel just a little obliged. I mean, I grew up here. I'm
from
here, even though it was years ago, and I do have something to offer.'

Besides, I feel I have a debt to pay.

Bella was watching her with a slow-dawning smile. ‘I guess the locals are thinking – we've got a world-famous pianist in our midst and she's
our
world-famous pianist.'

‘Maybe they are and I get that. If I play for the rest of the world, why shouldn't I play here?'

‘Would they expect you to play for free?'

‘That's not the issue,' Liz said quickly. ‘The CWA are raising money for the Flying Doctors.'

‘Well, that's certainly a good cause.' Bella seemed to give this some thought. ‘But, for what it's worth, I think you're wise not to give them an answer straightaway.'

‘Yes, let's see how the next few days pan out.' Liz pointed to the loaded picnic basket she'd set on one end of the kitchen table. ‘And if you're showering before dinner, make it snappy. I've thawed the snags and I've wept while I sliced onions, so I'm ready and raring for this riverside feast.'

‘I'll make a quick phone call to Dad,' Bella said, remembering her promise.

‘You should have called me,' her dad said, when she told him about the trouble with the grader.

‘Dad, I can't bother you with every little thing. I got it sorted.'

‘Yeah, I know. Sorry, Belle. Still getting used to the idea of you there on your own.'

‘I'm fine. Liz and I are having campfire sausages tonight, down near the waterhole.'

‘That'll be nice. You'll make sure you put the fire out, won't you?'

‘Yes, Dad. Anyway, how are you?'

‘Oh, you know . . . like a cup of tea in a boarding house . . . big and weak.'

Bella winced. She still hated the thought of her strong, active dad lying bedridden and helpless. ‘Well, look after yourself,' she said. ‘And stop worrying about me, won't you?'

‘I'm not worrying.'

‘Good.'

‘I love you, sweetheart.'

‘I love you, too, old fella.' She felt a bit choked and teary as she said this. Quickly she added, ‘Gus sends his love, don't you, Gus? Dad, say hello to Gus. I'm putting the phone down so he can hear you.'

The dog wagged his tail ecstatically and woofed.

Her father was chuckling, but then he asked, ‘Have you got the dog in the house?'

‘Liz brought him in,' Bella said. ‘Don't tell Mum, okay?'

‘Not on your life.'

It was magic to be down by the river at dusk.

Bella and Liz chose the sandy bank on the deep bend that formed the old swimming hole they'd both loved as kids in consecutive generations. This evening the hole was fringed with pink waterlilies.

The sky was tinged with lavender as it captured the last rosy rays of the sun and the waterhole was perfectly still, reflecting the white trunks of the towering paperbarks.

The scent of smoke and burning gum leaves lingered on the still air. The only sounds were the faint crackle of the fire and the distant squawk of cockatoos calling to each other as they headed home.

‘Wow. I've missed this,' Bella said. ‘There's nothing quite like the smell of a campfire and the taste of crispy sausages flavoured with wood smoke.'

Liz was grinning as she sat on the bank, hugging her knees. ‘It's true, isn't it? The simplest things really are the best.'

‘Absolutely.' Bella flipped sausages in the frying pan. ‘And I reckon there are only two kinds of snags. Good and bloody good. You can't beat them with fried onions and tomato sauce, wrapped in bread.'

‘Mmm. I'm ravenous.' Liz flung out her arms as if to embrace the river. ‘And I'm remembering all the fun Peter and I had here as kids. Swimming and campfires and picnics.'

‘Yeah, same for Luke and me.'
Plus Gabe
, Bella added silently.

‘I think this might be the right moment to open a bottle of wine.' Liz reached into the deep picnic basket.

Bella grinned. ‘Perfect.'

By the time the fire had reduced down to a small heap of glowing coals, Liz, replete with sausages and wine, couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so laid-back and at ease.

This morning's journey with Gus to a certain old bottlebrush tree had helped. Liz had wept as she'd erected a small cairn of stones under the tree, but afterwards, she'd felt a tiny bit better. She hoped fervently it might be the first step to some kind of healing after a very long time.

‘I've been meaning to ask you about Gabe Mitchell,' she said, wanting to divert her thoughts from her own issues.

‘What about Gabe?'

Hearing the snap in Bella's voice, Liz realised she'd quite possibly destroyed their moment of perfect relaxation. ‘Sorry if I raised a touchy subject.'

‘Why would I be touchy about Gabe?' Bella had been stretched on her back looking up at the stars, but now she sat up and poked a stick into the fire's embers, raising sparks. ‘I've known him all my life.'

‘Yes, I remember hearing about the two of you when you were little. I always understood you were great mates. I gained the impression from Peter that you got on better with Gabe than with his young sisters.'

‘Because I was a tomboy,' Bella admitted with an unhappy smile. ‘I was too busy keeping up with Luke and Gabe. It was the pits to be left behind with the little
girls
.'

‘But you're not on good terms with Gabe now?'

Bella let the stick fall and she stared downriver to where the full moon had risen from trees and was hanging, shiny as a scoured frying pan, in the still, inky hotness of the night.

She seemed to be weighing up what she should say, then she gave a shrug. ‘Gabe and I had a thing going for a while, but it didn't work out.'

Having experienced her share of ‘things' that hadn't worked out, Liz might have shrugged this aside. But Bella had known Gabe all her life and Liz suspected she was hiding a deeper hurt.

‘Bad luck,' she said gently.

‘Oh, I don't know. It was probably good luck. It freed me to travel.'

Leaning forward, Liz could see Bella's face in the moonlight, saw the fierce stubbornness in her niece's expression, saw her tight shoulders. Her tense hands.

Ah
 . . .

Her heart softened with sympathy.
So that's what happened. You weren't just running to follow me. You were running away. From Gabe.

‘But while you're asking nosy questions,' Bella said suddenly, surprising Liz. ‘I might ask one as well.'

‘Oh?' Liz tried to ignore the sudden stirring of panic.

‘You keep saying you're okay about being back here after all this time, but I know you're finding it hard.' Bella shot her a quick, searching glance. ‘It is hard, Liz, isn't it?'

Liz swallowed to ease the knot of tension in her throat and she stared at the glowing embers of their fire. ‘It's getting easier.'

‘If you want to talk . . . '

‘Oh, you don't want to spoil a lovely night with my sorry old story.' No way could she tell Bella about the tiny grave. Not now. Not tonight. ‘Anyway, it's water under the bridge.'

To Liz's relief, Bella didn't push.