North Star (27 page)

In town picking up supplies for the guests due the next week, Kate caught a glimpse of John's dark uniform and picked up her pace as she headed back towards her car. Pulling out of the parking space, she didn't bother checking to see if John had seen her or not—she simply wasn't ready to face him in person just yet.

Lost in her thoughts as she drove past the town limits, the flashing lights in her mirror didn't register at first, but then a loud burst of a siren made her heart lurch into her throat. She pulled to a stop on the side of the road and watched in her side mirror as John made his way towards her ute.

‘Was I speeding?' she asked.

‘Nope,' he said, a smile flickering across his lips. ‘This was the only way I could get you to stop ignoring me.'

‘I wasn't ignoring you,' she protested, feeling annoyed that he'd resorted to pulling her over like some criminal.

‘We need to talk, Kate,' he said gently.

‘Maybe there's nothing to talk about.'

‘I'd like to find out.'

Kate gave a sigh. ‘What is it you want to talk about, John?'

‘You know I had no choice.'

‘I don't blame you for anything.'

‘Then why do I feel like you do?'

Kate shook her head. ‘A big part of my past—a painful part—was dug up in front of a stranger. I didn't plan on speaking about that night ever again.'

‘You were never planning on telling me? You don't think something like that would be important to know about in a relationship?' he asked incredulously.

‘It has nothing to do with here and now, it's in my past. It's done. Why is it so unbelievable to everyone that I might want to get on with my life and not spend the rest of it thinking about a man who attacked me when I was fifteen?'

John rested his hand against the roof of her ute and stared down at the ground. ‘Can we put it behind us?' he asked eventually.

‘Can you look at me in the same way now, John?' She glanced at him, not quite ready to hear the answer.

‘Until this is cleared up, I need to make sure there is no way anyone can accuse me of doing anything to jeopardise your case. It would only take one person to make an accusation of a cover-up and it could make things very difficult for you. Freeman's still looking into it, and until he tells me they're satisfied Jackson hasn't met with foul play, we won't be able to see each other.'

‘It's okay. In your position I'd probably not want to touch me either. If it's any comfort, I have had regular blood tests, and as far as I know he didn't give me anything worse than a nightmare to remember him by.' She hadn't meant her voice to come out sounding so savage.

‘Kate, that's not—'

‘I have to go, I have things to do,' she said, cutting off his shocked protest.

‘Kate, just wait a minute—'

‘This changes everything between us, doesn't it?' she demanded angrily.

He opened his mouth to speak but she saw the indecision in his eyes.

‘We can't go back,' she said coldly, ‘so let's just chalk it up to a nice time while it lasted.'

She wound up her window and drove away.

It was hot. The humidity clung to everything, oppressive and energy-sapping. The kids were fidgety and out of sorts, Kate was too, and even the cattle seemed restless, their bellows setting Kate's nerves further on edge. Something was brewing—and it was much bigger than the approaching storm.

The kids did nothing but argue, their bickering escalating until Kate could no longer stand it.

‘Grab a towel,' she ordered. ‘We're going down to the waterhole.'

‘It's too hot,' Georgia complained.

‘It's got to be better than sitting around in here. Now move it, before the storm breaks.'

They climbed into the ute and followed the track, now well worn by constant use, towards the waterhole. There were no guests this week, something Kate was now thankful for. With the kids so crabby and her own temper frayed, she was doubtful they would have been welcoming hosts.

Even the green foliage around the waterhole seemed to droop, the usually lush oasis wilting in the heat. Where this humidity was coming from had been a constant topic of conversation about town. The usually dry heat of the inland had been replaced by a humidity normally only found in the tropics.

The water was cooler than Kate had expected. She lay back, feeling the water soothe her feverish head as she sank below the surface. With her eyes closed, she was tempted to stay like this forever—no fighting kids . . . only the ever-present turmoil of her thoughts. She couldn't escape them, even underwater. Suppressing a tired sigh, she lifted her head and opened her eyes—then froze.

Standing on the bank was John. Her heart gave an involuntary star-jump of joy at the sight of him.

Forcing herself to emerge from the water with a calmness she was far from feeling—not easy when she could feel his eyes roaming her body with a hunger that matched her own—she walked towards the grassy edge.

‘Kate.'

‘I wasn't expecting you out here today.' She sounded guarded and wished she didn't have to be.

‘No one could raise you by phone—I was out this way so I said I'd call in.'

‘What's happened?' she asked, her thoughts going into overdrive.

‘There's a storm warning. Nathan's busy with his place and won't be able to get over here to give you a hand. I said I'd come over instead.'

‘Georgia, Liam, out of the water—now!' she called, reaching for her towel and drying herself quickly.

‘You'll need to lock up the animals and make sure anything that could fly around in the wind is packed away.'

Herding the kids, dripping but thankfully compliant, into the vehicle, Kate headed back to the house, a list of things that needed to be done forming in her head. As soon as they arrived home there was a flurry of activity.

Chooks locked away—check. Outdoor furniture moved inside—check; nursery animals noisily herded into the livestock shed and secured—check.

‘Fergus!'

Kate looked up and saw her son's face twisted in horror.

‘He's a cat, honey—he'll find a safe place to hide, just like the cattle.'

‘No! He's down at the waterhole.'

‘What on earth is he doing down there?'

‘I took him with us in the ute, but he must have jumped out. We can't leave him out there.' Liam's face began to scrunch up in a fierce scowl and Kate closed her eyes in dismay—she really didn't need this now.

‘He'll be fine,' she soothed, but was cut off by a howl of protest as a dramatic flash of lightning warned of the approaching thunderstorm.

‘Mum, he'll be killed! I don't want to lose Fergus, he's my best friend.'

Kate sighed and herded the kids indoors, giving them instructions to prepare a thermos of hot water in case the power went off then and then to unplug all the electrical items.

‘I'll be back in a minute—stay inside. I mean it,' she warned with a menacing glare at Liam. He gave a small nod of agreement in return. She hurried towards her vehicle, passing John as he carried the last of the pot plants into the shed.

‘Where are you going?'

‘I have to find the cat.'

He stared at her as though she'd lost her mind—which of course she quite probably had.

‘I don't have time to explain,' she said before he could say anything. ‘I'm going to find the damn cat and bring it home.'

The expletive he bellowed was drowned out by a loud rumble overhead.

Kate yanked the shed door open and slid in behind the wheel. ‘Thanks for your help,' she called out, ‘but you better get going or you'll be caught out on the road in the storm.' She slammed the door and reached towards the ignition, just as the passenger door opened and John got in. ‘What are you doing?'

‘You're not going out in this by yourself. Hurry up and drive or I'll reconsider and handcuff you to your kitchen table,' he muttered, his tone as dark as the storm clouds.

At the waterhole they both got out, calling the cat's name as the wind began to pick up around them.

‘Kate, this is ridiculous. Leave the bloody cat—we have to get back to the house before this wind gets any worse,' John growled.

For a second she saw the regret and pain he was feeling, but she clenched her jaw firmly against any sympathy. He didn't trust her. He could hardly stand to be around her any more. And she couldn't blame him.

Suddenly a flash of ginger and white streaked into the bush behind them. Without thinking, she turned to follow.

‘Kate!'

She ignored him, running from his accusing eyes, the need to flee her own self-reproach pushing her on through the trees and deeper into the bush. She just needed to escape it all—the past, the lies, her fear . . . most of all, herself. She burst out into a clearing and gave a mournful cry of despair when she realised where she was.

There was no escaping any of it. It always brought her back to this place.

She felt John come to a stop behind her, his breathing harsh and loud. He clasped her arm and spun her around to face him.

Just then the first drops of rain fell fat and cold on her face, and before she could brush them away the heavens burst open.

‘Come
on
, Kate!' John released her arm and took her hand, heading towards the overseer's hut and the shelter it offered.

‘Let me go!'

He ignored her and ran up the steps into the hut, pulling her along in his wake.

The rain pounded with almost deafening volume on the old tin roof, and they stood staring at each other, chests heaving, as they tried to catch their breath.

Kate's eyes flashed fearfully and she refused to lift her eyes to look around her.

‘It's just a building.' John's deep voice carried over the noise of the rain, but it did little to reassure her.

A flash of lightning lit up the sky outside and she saw the sneer on the man's face, smelt the whiskey on his breath. His chuckle seemed to echo through the room and her skin crawled at the memory.

‘Kate. It's okay,' John said. ‘This is where it happened, isn't it? It didn't happen up at the house, did it? This is where he raped you.'

‘Why can't you just leave it alone?' Kate shouted.

‘Because I can't stand not knowing if the woman I love is a murderer!' he yelled back, and she saw his eyes were tormented with shadows as they searched her own.

She lowered her head in defeat. He had every right to feel like this—betrayed, confused, angry—but it was so hard to keep reliving that night, and so exhausting trying to forget it.

‘Please, Kate. Tell me what
really
happened.'

A shiver ran through her as she walked slowly around the room. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light and she took in the familiar remnants of her childhood, lying scattered in disarray. She bent down to right an overturned crate and noticed a torn piece of fabric, faded and filthy, on the dirty floorboards beneath. She remembered her gran giving her the scrap material to use as curtains for the hut, and her eyes stung at the memory.

‘That night I snuck out of the house and came here,' she said, head bowed. ‘This was where I used to come to pretend I was from a normal family with two parents, and brothers and sisters. When I came here there was no yelling or hateful words, this was where I was safe . . . and happy. I couldn't stay in the house that night. He scared me.' She went silent, staring down at the fabric in her hands.

She'd been starving, having lost her appetite at dinner, with the revolting Len leering at her across the table. Sinking onto the upside-down crate, she dug through her bag and withdrew the food she'd managed to grab on her way out. She'd just bitten into an apple when she heard a creaking sound and froze.

‘It happened just like I said it did. He burst through the door; I didn't even hear him coming. He knocked me backwards onto the old mattress'—she looked up and her eyes searched the room quickly—‘that used to be here.' Over the years things seemed to have gone missing, she noted absently. ‘He was too strong. I couldn't stop him . . . The more I tried to fight, the worse it got . . . 

‘Afterwards, I was thinking how I was going to run away, that I'd never leave with Mum, that I didn't care where I ended up as long as I got away from this place. Then she came in. She must have followed him . . . She was hysterical.'

You promised you'd never do this to me again!
her mother had sobbed, the black mascara running down her face making her look grotesque in the moonlight.

Kate had recoiled as Eve turned accusing eyes from Len to her, the look of devastation and betrayal piercing Kate to her very soul, as though she blamed her daughter for leading the man on. At that moment, Kate had known she was utterly alone. Her mother, the one person in the world who should have stopped this man from hurting her, was more devastated by the fact that she'd discovered her boyfriend ‘cheating' on her.

‘Kate!' John moved across the room and took hold of her arms firmly. ‘What happened to Len?'

‘I don't know! I . . . he . . . there was blood.'

‘Your mother killed him?' John asked slowly.

She could lie. Just say yes and he'd drop it. There was no one left alive to say otherwise . . . except she didn't want to lie to him, and somehow she knew he would see through her. ‘No.'

The wind outside grew stronger and the branches of the gums swayed like drunken sailors against the dark sky.

Kate felt the same sickening dread that had weighed in her stomach that terrible night. ‘There was so much blood.'

She felt John stiffen beside her. ‘Kate,' he said desperately, ‘tell me.'

‘When my mother came in, she was yelling at him—screaming. He stood up and they started to fight, then Eve turned and ran outside. He went to follow her out the door and I . . . I picked up the old firewood splitter we kept here and I hit him with it.' Kate shivered. ‘I couldn't let him come back; I knew he wasn't finished with me—I was so scared.'

John rested his cheek against the top of her head. ‘What happened then?'

‘I don't know . . . There was blood . . . I heard him yelling, but I just ran . . . I don't know what happened to him.'

Shaking and out of breath, Kate hadn't stopped running until she'd reached the house. Everything hurt; she felt bruised and battered and so tired she thought she'd collapse, but she kept moving, coming to a stop only when she found her grandfather standing beside her mother's car.

He didn't glance up as she crept over as if in a trance. She saw the blood on the windscreen and the outline of the matted, bloody hair—the bleached strands now crimson with rapidly congealing blood.

She could smell the alcohol on Henry's breath.

‘Take a good look, girl,' he said, his words falling on her as heavy as rain. ‘That's how you'll end up some day too!' He turned dead eyes on her then. ‘She told me what you did, right before she pulled the damn trigger.'

Kate staggered backwards at the look of disgust in the old man's pale eyes. She opened her mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. Her gaze fell onto Henry's old farm rifle where it had slipped from her mother's lifeless fingers to the ground.

‘Think you can lead men on and get away with it . . .  Well, you've really ruined it this time.'

‘I didn't—'

‘Enough! I don't want to hear your lies!' he roared and took a step towards her.

Kate flinched and waited for the pain to follow, but nothing happened. She risked a look at his face and saw he was breathing heavily, his eyes dull lumps of coal.

‘Go and pack your things, girl. I want you gone.'

The next thing she remembered was a policeman asking her questions many hours later, and her grandfather tossing a small suitcase of her belongings at her when they reached the bus stop in the early hours of the next morning. He had never even looked back as she watched him drive away.