Outback Sunset (29 page)

Initially, she had been attracted to him because of his lighthearted, easygoing ways. Something had made him change, and he was still changing. She
didn’t know if she was to blame, whether it was because of Kyle or was it the pressure of running Amaroo? All she knew was that his lightheartedness and easygoing manner were being replaced by periods of aggressiveness and, on occasions, an irrational moodiness.

Adding to that, sometimes she even questioned the sense of some of his decisions, such as selling off most of the herd because of the drought. She and Curtis had argued against selling the stock, preferring to take out a loan for feed till the wet rejuvenated the land, as was being done on Cadogan’s Run and Linford Downs. But no, Bren had been adamant that
his
way was right so she and Curtis had, with reservations, given in. She also suspected that Bren was listening to advice Stuart gave about managing Amaroo, though he refused to admit that he was. The two were very … cosy with their regular phone calls, the more than occasional reciprocal visits. Obviously Bren admired Stuart’s business acumen and wanted to emulate his uncle’s success on the land but, she questioned Stuart’s capacity, despite him being raised on Amaroo, to understand that what worked in tourism didn’t necessarily translate to success on a cattle station.

She glanced at her script and tried to regain her concentration. They were halfway through the detective series and she was enjoying her first experience at working on a television drama. It was different to anything she’d done before and more demanding than live theatre, where one might do the same role and dialogue for several months. Suppressing a yawn and after marking the page she
was up to, she accepted that she wasn’t in the right mood to learn lines.

Vanessa rested her head against the sofa’s back and closed her eyes. She knew that Sandra Long, the live-in housekeeper who cared for Kyle while she was on set, was out shopping. Kyle hadn’t woken from his afternoon nap either, and after he did she planned to take him to the park down the street. He loved the park known as Darling Gardens because it was so green and bordered the Yarra River. He liked to watch the occasional boat and racing skiff train — something foreign and fascinating to a small child growing up hundreds of kilometres inland.

A knock on the apartment’s front door prevented Vanessa from slipping into the doze she had been anticipating. After a sigh, she got up and went to see who it was. Her eyebrows flew up in surprise as she opened the door.

‘Nova. I don’t believe it! How did you find me?’ She stepped back to let Nova enter the living room.

‘Rang Amaroo. Bren gave me your address. I’ve been working in Geelong and Bendigo.’ Her slanted eyes darted around the large, furnished living room with its floor to ceiling windows that, being in South Yarra, had a partial view of the city. ‘Nice place,’ she said as she walked to the window and took it all in. ‘Great view.’

‘It’s good to see you.’ Vanessa masked the inclination to frown. Something was wrong, Nova didn’t seem herself. She appeared agitated and trying to hide it. As if she were uncomfortable.

‘Where’s Kyle? I’d love to see him.’ Nova thrust a parcel at Vanessa. She liked to appear to be
doing the right thing. ‘I brought him something, seeing how I missed his birthday party. He’s well now?’

Vanessa smiled. ‘How thoughtful. He’s terrific, healthwise. He’s taking a nap but he should wake soon. How about a cup of tea, coffee?’

‘Do you have anything stronger?’

Again the urge to frown. Vanessa controlled it. ‘Are you kidding? With production staff and actors dropping in at all hours I have to keep a supply of grog in the fridge,’ Vanessa admitted with a smile. She went into the spotless, modern kitchen, opened a cupboard and took out two glasses. From the refrigerator she took a half-empty bottle of chardonnay and poured the wine into the glasses.

‘So, tell me, are things going well? Lots of gigs, making plenty of money?’ Vanessa asked, while at the same time she surreptitiously observed Nova over the rim of her wine glass. The younger woman had an air of — what? — recklessness about her. At first glance and studying her clothes, she looked very with-it. Clean jeans, T-shirt, leather jacket and heeled boots but it was her face and eyes that worried Vanessa because she looked as if she had been crying for a week. The corners of her well-shaped mouth were turned down and her skin had an unhealthy pallor to it. Probably not eating or sleeping properly, Vanessa concluded. But … she couldn’t help but question whether that was all.

‘Couldn’t be better,’ Nova replied, too quickly. ‘I have solid bookings for the next six months. The band and I are working on a new album and I’m collaborating with another country and western
singer-songwriter, Jo Brooks, on several numbers. She’s terrific at harmonising.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ Vanessa was duly impressed. Still, if everything was so well why wasn’t Nova happy?
‘But…?
’

Nova stared at Vanessa. ‘But what?’

‘I can hear the “but” in your voice even if you didn’t say it out loud. What’s wrong?

Nova’s gaze narrowed on the woman she had decided to make her role model, to be more successful than. ‘You always were perceptive. I can fool most people but not you.’ Shit, why had she bothered to look Vanessa and Kyle up? To listen to a lecture from Vanessa? Hell, no! Then why was she here? She knew she wasn’t going to take much comfort from the answer. Because, odd as it seemed, she felt she could trust Vanessa. The actress was a good listener and really, who else did she have to talk to about her problems? Not Fran or her father or the busy Anthea. Vanessa, unpalatable as it might be, was the best alternative.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Nova shrugged in an attempt to minimise the problem’s importance. ‘I should be happy, I’m doing well. Anthea is so pleased she’s negotiating with an American recording company for an audition in Nashville. But’ … she shook her head, ‘I’m miserable and I don’t know why.’

‘Your boyfriend?’

Nova’s gaze skipped towards the view again. ‘M-maybe. I’m not sure.
The Smokehouse Five
, that’s the name of Leo’s band, were struggling before I hooked up with them. They did the backings for my
album. Leo’s a great arranger, but there are times when he resents
my
success. Sometimes, we argue and he … he gets … mad. He’s hit me once or twice.’

Vanessa shook her head. ‘You don’t have to put up with that. No woman does.’

‘I know. But I kind of provoke him and he reacts,’ Nova admitted, rather shamefacedly. ‘Afterwards, he brings me flowers and gifts, and all is forgiven.’ She turned towards Vanessa. ‘You see, it’s like … We need each other.’

Vanessa understood about the mutual need. ‘He needs you to keep his band in work and you think he’s the best musical arranger you can find. But do you love him?’

‘I guess.’ Nova still couldn’t make eye contact with Vanessa. ‘As much as I’m capable of loving

him.’

Aahhh! Of course, Vanessa had her measure. Nova still had feelings for Curtis. It was evident in her guarded expression, her less than wholehearted avowal regarding Leo. ‘You know, if you ever need a break away from music, you’ll be very welcome at Amaroo.’

Nova smiled for the first time. ‘I know. Thanks. I will take time off in a couple of months to come home, after the wet.’

‘Yes, well, the way things are at Amaroo, we’re praying for an early one. It’s so dry there.’

‘I’d heard that you were doing it tough.’

‘Yes, we’re not alone, others are too. What is it about the Australian outback?’ Vanessa struggled to produce a smile. ‘It’s either feast or famine, no in-between.’

‘It’s a bugger,’ Nova agreed, her grin sympathetic in spite of her being more concerned with herself than the state of Amaroo.

From the second bedroom came a plaintive cry. ‘Mumma. Up.’

Vanessa grinned at Nova, delighted that Kyle was awake because she loved to show him off. She stood, then pulled Nova out of her chair. ‘Come and meet my son.’

Kyle was a hit with Nova and vice versa. With his father’s grey eyes, his sturdy build, Vanessa’s blond hair and olive skin, he was a miniature whirlwind, playing, gabbling to himself and generally responsible for creating disaster zones wherever he went. They took him to the park and bought him an ice-cream treat, half of which he spilled down the front of his clothes.

Later, Nova was easily persuaded to stay for dinner.

That night as Vanessa lay in bed, her thoughts focussed on Nova Morrison. She genuinely liked Nova but she could tell that the woman was troubled. The thought came to her … was she doing drugs? So many young people did these days. It was, sadly, fairly commonplace in the entertainment business. Artists should have been satisfied with achieving what they achieved but many weren’t, and a percentage took a cocktail of drugs to keep themselves on a high and to disguise a range of complexes. With the success she was having the world was Nova’s oyster now, but happiness for her seemed … an elusive element.

Her thoughts moved to Curtis and, unable to drift off, she began to wonder what her brother-in-law
wanted from life and why he was so anti-women? She knew he had been hurt by his ex-wife but, did that mean one gave up looking for a partner forever? Stretching under the covers, she rolled onto her side. No matter how right it might be for Nova, she couldn’t see Curtis falling in love with her. The chemistry wasn’t there and she doubted Nova’s ability to create it. But what kind of woman could Curtis fall for? Not another Georgia type nor, she suspected, someone like Nova.

Not that it was her concern, she assured herself with a sigh. Curtis could fall for whoever took his fancy. Then the fact that she was even thinking and worrying about his non-existent love life annoyed her. Why was she? Cranky with her thoughts, she screwed her eyes up tight and tried to fall asleep. She was expected on the set at 5 a.m. so she had no time to speculate over Curtis’s love life. Yawning, she thumped the pillow and rolled onto her stomach …

Bren Selby twirled the whisky around in his glass; he liked to listen to the sound the ice made as it clinked against the sides. He enjoyed drinking his mother’s Johnnie Walker export quality whisky. The Darwin evening was oppressively hot, the much-awaited wet about to arrive. Everything steamed, everything appeared abnormally still, which made you more conscious of the heat. You got used to and, perversely, never got used to it. Tomorrow Vanessa and Kyle were flying up from Melbourne. The thirteen episodes of
The Twenty-first Squad
were ‘in the can,’ as Vanessa said and she was coming home. Not soon enough, as far as he was concerned. He
had wallowed in a series of moods since her departure, missing her and the little feller who had, thank God, gone through the messy baby stage and was becoming more interesting. His son! How much would Kyle have grown in thirteen weeks?

Vanessa reported that he was getting into lots of mischief — a typical Selby male. He chuckled at that, he could recall some of the scrapes he and Curtis had got in to as kids — even his father and Stuart had had their share of misadventures as they’d grown up on Amaroo. As he sipped his drink Bren admitted that he was growing to dislike the periods Vanessa spent away from Amaroo. He wanted her where he could see her, talk to her, make love with her. A ripple of jealousy made his stomach muscles tighten as, belatedly, he realised that her stage and now screen career hadn’t suffered because she lived in the Kimberley. She was such an accomplished actress that, as her reputation grew, she was becoming more in demand, with Kerri passing on job offers on a regular basis.

Grudgingly, he conceded that what she earned made a difference to Amaroo’s surviving the drought. His pride had compromised in that regard. They’d not had to borrow from the bank, though there had been belt-tightening exercises, for everyone. That’s the way it was on the land: a couple of good years followed by a few bad years and so it went on and on, interminably. He shifted restlessly in his chair. His uncle didn’t have any such problems. Stuart’s business was going from strength to strength, and he was rolling in the green stuff.

Bren pushed the copy of the several days old
Melbourne Age
newspaper to the far side of the table. His mother had left the entertainment page open because it showed a picture of Vanessa and the cast of
The Twenty-first Squad
, including the producer, Martin Pirelli, toasting its expected success. He didn’t care for the familiarity of Pirelli’s arm draped around Vanessa’s shoulders. Shit, he didn’t care for that at all. Producers, directors, actors, in his opinion were for the most part a scummy lot. His forehead rippled into a frown.

Some would have seen Vanessa, a woman alone with a child, as fair game. How often had a man tried to come on to her, he wondered? He would never know the answer because she was too wise to tell him due to his tendency to react aggressively. Well, she was his, and if any man laid a finger on her … Damn it, why was he worrying? She loved him and he was a lucky so-and-so because she did. With her looks, talent and personality, Vanessa could have any man she wanted — the miracle was that, after almost four-and-a-half years of marriage, she continued to want him.

Downing the remains of his drink, he got up to pour another from the traymobile-cum-bar in a corner of the living room. His mother was in the kitchen making dinner, cooking one of his favourite dishes, barbecued baby octopus in a creamy sauce which would be served on a bed of salad greens and side vegetables. It was a dish Fran would never do and he smirked complacently, pleased that his mother enjoyed spoiling him — more than she did Curtis or Lauren.

‘You’ll stay a few days, won’t you?’ Hilary asked as they sat, eating dinner on the patio.

‘Depends on Vanessa. She might want to go home straight away.’

Hilary reached across to cover Bren’s hand with her own. ‘You’re a persuasive man. I’m sure you can convince her to stay a while. I’d like to see more of Kyle, he’s growing so fast.’

Bren gave his mother a considering look, unsure whether it was Kyle she wanted to see or whether she liked having him around so she could try to dominate him; Hilary Selby was like that. Just to be difficult he made her wait for his answer. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’