Outback Sunset (37 page)

Kerri and Heather stood back as the spinning of the rotor blades increased in tempo with the revs of the engine. The chopper took off and angled northeast, and in silence as profound as the bush around them, the two women followed Reg, on Runaway, back to the homestead …

The first thing Vanessa saw when she opened her eyes after having a curette to clear away what
remained of the foetus — she had haemorrhaged, losing huge clots during the helicopter flight — was a large bunch of flowers. It was an outrageously extravagant gesture in a town of roughly six thousand people who lived far away from mainstream civilisation. She knew, without having to read the card, that Kerri had ordered them through Interflora, and had them flown in expressly to cheer her up. She smiled weakly at the precious, colourful blooms, aware that it would take more than a floral arrangement to do that. Tears welled in her eyes, overflowed and ran down her cheeks. She’d lost the baby she had longed for so much, especially after the trials and tribulations over Kyle’s health.

The door opened and Bren came in. He had a box of chocolates in one hand and he placed it on the bedside table. His eyebrows lifted when he saw the flowers. ‘From Kerri, I suppose,’ came the comment in a less than enthusiastic tone. He sat on the chair beside the bed, took her hand and squeezed it. ‘How are you feeling, hon?’

‘I’ve had better days,
many
better days,’ she said bravely, without smiling. ‘I did so want a brother or sister for Kyle to play with.’ She had miscarried a little girl, she’d been told.

‘I bet. It was bloody bad luck all around. But,’ he shrugged his shoulders, ‘accidents happen and,’ he paused to clear his throat then said, ‘perhaps it’s for the best.’

For the best?
How could losing a baby be for the best? His words made little sense to her and, she noted that he hadn’t said anything about them
trying again when she was back to normal. She threw a baleful glance in his direction and, still overwrought by the experience, muttered, ‘You never wanted the baby anyway so, now, I suppose you’re happy.’ To her annoyance, and amazement, he shrugged his shoulders again.

‘I wouldn’t say that, exactly. It just wasn’t mean t to be this time round, that’s all.’ When she continued to stare at him he shifted uncomfortably in the seat. ‘The doctor said you could go home tomorrow. And, umm, Kyle’s missing you.’

‘Give him my love. I …’ she sighed, ‘I’m so tired …’

‘Of course you are, hon, you’ve been through an ordeal. I’ll push off so you can get some rest, and come in tonight. I’ve put the hard word on Fabian to stay at his house tonight.’

‘That’s good, see you tonight then,’ she murmured so softly Bren hardly heard the words as he left the room.

Hurt beyond measure by his cool, almost callous acceptance of her miscarriage, Vanessa turned her head on the pillow to stare out the window. Outside the air-conditioned room, dusk was encroaching, turning the cloudless sky a hazy, yellowish-mauve. It would be another magnificent sunset.

At least Bren wasn’t pretending that he cared. That would have been truly detestable of him. A band of pain circled her heart and squeezed till she could hardly breathe. She couldn’t bear to look at him, nor did she want to deal with what she was beginning to feel, or not feel! But she had to. As the pain began to recede a kind of numbness replaced it but she was still able to think, to evaluate …

What was wrong with him, and of more importance, what was wrong with their marriage? Something had dissipated, diminished and she knew the answer as surely as she knew that very soon the sun would set. The tears began trickling again and she let them flow unchecked as she lay in bed. What had happened to the gentle giant she had married, the caring, fun-loving considerate man? Had it all been an illusion? Was it her fault, hadn’t she tried hard enough to keep their love alive and vibrant? She thought she had, but how could she when he responded as he had a few minutes ago, with little real affection. For some reason known only to Bren, them having another child hadn’t suited him. Why? She puzzled over that for a while until she came up with a possible reason. It was as if he were too involved with himself and what affected him to care deeply about anyone else. And that had started even before they’d had Kyle …

Vanessa tried to pep herself up, decide what she had to do to address the problem. She would do more, she decided, try harder, be more understanding, more … more conciliatory, if that’s what it took, but the truth of it was that she couldn’t do it all! Bren had to meet her halfway …

Bren was happy because he was involved with his new project. Sitting at the desk in his office he studied the rough plans he had drawn up. He was no architect but he had managed to draw a rudimentary plan that showed a layout for up to ten tourists in four-to-a-room, bunk-style accommodation, two bathrooms, a large kitchen and an outdoor eating facility.

He had yet to decide on the best site — and expected Curtis to help him with that, but his brother had been no help at all. He was still trying to wear down Vanessa and Curtis’s resistance to the project. Both were urging him to go slowly and carefully, when he wanted to gallop away with the idea and get things started. He found their reluctance to ‘come on board’ a continuing source of irritation.

In particular he resented Vanessa’s caution because, most of the time she was a forward thinker capable of embracing new ideas. He believed that the miscarriage she had suffered had made her unduly careful, about everything. She had changed, become clucky and protective of Kyle because he was their one and only. His son was a rip-roaring, energetic kid who wanted to be treated normally, not coddled, and, as far as he was concerned, Vanessa had become too cautious.

They had argued last night, and the night before about the timing of the pregnancy,
and
his home-stay project. Of late, they were always at loggerheads with each other over one thing or another, so much so that every person on Amaroo would suddenly find something they had to do when a discussion about the pros and cons of the project came up.

If only he could talk to someone sympathetic about his own doubts, the uncertainties that concerned him. He couldn’t talk to his mother. She would relish the thought that Vanessa wasn’t being supportive, so he was too proud to mention his misgivings to her. Stuart? His uncle was a very successful businessman, an understanding man, who’d been through several ups and downs in his
own marriage, Diane accusing him of several affairs over as many years. Could he confide in him?

With his elbows propped on the desk, he massaged his forehead with his fingertips. He had to talk to someone, he had to. But first … He got up and closed the office door, assuring himself of some privacy. He sat again and reached for the phone, then stopped.

Putting one hand on the desk he drummed rhythmically with his fingertips for maybe half a minute, staring around the room. In his head he still referred to the room as ‘my father’s office,’ not his, because much of Matthew Selby’s presence remained, in a subtle, almost shrine-like way. There was a huge set of long-horns; he’d brought them back from a trip to the United States of America. A framed, glass-protected map which detailed the original perimeters of Amaroo hung on one wall and a selection of photographs, black and white ones, hung on a timber-panelled wall. They were photos of his father with famous people, mostly Western Australian cattlemen. There was one with the legendary Lang Hancock, and several with past federal politicians.

Bren felt close to his father when he was in the office, here more than anywhere else on Amaroo. He sat up and stopped drumming his fingertips as the realisation came to him — his father was no longer around to counsel, to chide, or to compliment him on a job well done. The only person who did that regularly was his uncle.

He reached for the phone, picked up the receiver and dialled Stuart’s number …

Warm winter sunshine warmed Bren’s back and he grinned as Kyle ran full pelt towards him after his ride to the old stone quarry with Regan, Vanessa and Curtis. His son loved the pony they had given him when he and Vanessa had returned from London. It was good to see his son active and normal again. Dr Samuels, at his recent, annual check-up, said the transplant was a continuing success but Kyle would have to be watched for any sign of rejection or infection. Vanessa did that, too well, as far as Bren was concerned.

‘Hey,’ Bren ruffled his son’s hair. ‘You smell of horse. Phew!’ He held his nose as if there was a great stink under him.

Kyle grinned up at him. ‘Yeah, Dad, cool, isn’t it? Ruby’s a beaut horse. I galloped her all the way to the quarry.’

Regan, a few paces behind, said, ‘Kyle’s riding very well, Uncle Bren. He didn’t even look as if he would fall off.’ Then she reminded her charge, ‘What did your mum say, Kyle? To hit the bath straight away, I think.’

Kyle grimaced. He hooked his small thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, copying his father’s and uncle’s habit. ‘Do I have to, Dad?’

Bren made a big thing out of sniffing the air. ‘You do, mate. Definitely.’

He smiled again as Regan generously gave Kyle a five-metre start and chased him towards the homestead. They got on well, the two cousins, in spite of the several years difference in their ages.

He turned in time to see Vanessa stumble as she got off Runaway. Curtis was there quickly, his arm extended to steady her. He watched the two of them laugh, as if her awkwardness was funny. And, mercurially, his mood changed, the fine line on his temper tightened. Why? Because Curtis could make time to ride with Vanessa and the kids but he was too busy to help him find a suitable site for the home-stay project. What was it his uncle said when he had confided that Curtis was being evasive and difficult? Confront the situation head-on, that’s what Stuart had said: bring it out in the open. He would!

‘Damn it, bro, you piss me off. Here you are, wasting time with my wife and the kids, on trail rides, when I need you. When will you get it through your head that I’m the boss around here? That I call the shots,’ he said in a loud voice as he strode towards Curtis and Vanessa.

‘What are you talking about, Bren?’ Vanessa queried, her features pinched with annoyance because of his tone. ‘Curtis was just helping …’

‘I know what he was doing,’ Bren barked at Vanessa, ‘not doing his bloody job, that’s what.’ He had been holding down a growing anger towards both of them for weeks and it was high time they understood who was in command at Amaroo.

Vanessa glanced towards Curtis, whose expression was one of consternation. Her gaze then flew back to Bren to interpret his body language. Amazingly, she saw that he was spoiling for an argument. Could it be that he didn’t like Curtis coming to her aid or was he put out because they hadn’t meekly fallen into step with his plans?
Prudently, she decided to give him the opportunity to apologise, or calm down. ‘Curtis stopped me from falling on my backside, which wouldn’t have been very pleasant.’

‘Yeah. Sure! Since your miscarriage you’ve become obsessed with yourself, Vanessa. That you have doesn’t become you,’ Bren criticised out of the blue.

‘Steady on, Bren. There’s no need for that kind of talk,’ Curtis said, taking up Vanessa’s defence. Automatically he stepped in front of her, as if to shield her from his brother’s temper.

‘Get out of the way,’ Bren ordered, his anger now more directed towards Vanessa.

‘I will, when you calm down.’ Curtis stood his ground. ‘What’s wrong with you anyway? Feeling liverish over your precious home-stay project because we haven’t fully embraced it? Is that your problem, Bren?’

Bren stared at him, silently amazed by his brother’s incisiveness. ‘Frankly, yes. I’d expected loyalty from both of you, but it seems that you’ve joined forces against me.’

‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ Vanessa’s own quick temper rose in response to his words. ‘We’ve only suggested that you be cautious. Your plan to borrow a great deal of money will put Amaroo into debt again. It makes sense to be careful,’ she said, talking around the side of Curtis’s body.

‘So,’ Bren’s jaw jutted stubbornly, ‘I don’t have any sense, is that what you’re saying?’

‘Oh, grow up, mate. Stop acting like a kid who isn’t getting his own way,’ Curtis taunted. ‘Our advice is just to be sensible about the whole thing.’
He stared back at his brother who was standing with his legs apart, less than a metre away. Of old, he knew the signs; Bren was spoiling for a fight. His chest had puffed up, his hands were balling into fists and he was balancing forward slightly on the balls of his feet. Commonsense told him that the smart thing to do would be to walk away. He turned sideways, towards the horses.

‘Hey, I’m not finished talking to you,’ Bren shouted at him.

‘It’s pointless trying to talk to you in this mood. We’ll talk later, when you’ve settled down.’

‘Damn you, Curtis, I want to talk now.’ Bren stepped forward. He was close enough to reach him so he grabbed Curtis by the shoulder and spun him around to face him. His gaze ripped from him to Vanessa then back to his brother. ‘You and Vanessa are plotting something, aren’t you? Did you think you could fool me, bro?’ Breathing heavily, rational thought forgotten, his muscles bunched with tension and the urge to beat the living daylights out of his sibling strengthened. His index finger jabbed again. ‘Are you going to ’fess up?’

‘You’re crazy. There is no plot against you, it’s all in your head. Go and skull a few beers, that’ll cool you off.’

‘Bren, stop this, you’re sounding ridiculous,’ Vanessa implored.

‘Shut up, Vanessa,’ Bren shouted at her, ‘and get out of my way.’ He reached across with his other arm and gave a none-too-gentle push that caught her off guard. She stumbled backwards, hitting the breaking-in yard’s fence.

Something flicked in Curtis’s eyes, the gleam of battle. It made him change his mind about walking away. Bren’s temper was, quite oddly, spiralling out of control but for once in his life Curtis didn’t care. He wasn’t going to stand by and let his brother manhandle his wife; Vanessa deserved better treatment than that. His gaze narrowed on Bren as he squared up to him. ‘Stop pushing your wife around,’ he said. There was quiet menace in his tone.