Bella's Run (47 page)

He was right. The next day was wild. Storms blew in across the ranges. Rain and sometimes hail battered the verandahs. The wind howled at the windows, making eerie whistles as it caught and sucked its way along the eaves and under the house.

Bella ran outside mid-morning, braving the driving hail, to bring a whimpering Turbo into the warmth and safety of the lounge room. She whiled away the afternoon curled up in front of the roaring fire, reading and sleeping. And thinking.

Stubborn and pig-headed, Wes had said. The old man never wasted words he didn’t mean. Deep down she knew he was right. She thought back to the conversation she had with Will the night they watched satellites track across the night sky. She’d realised then she should have heard him out in Melbourne all those years ago when he wanted to bring her home. And then there was that time on Hugh’s Plain – now she’d come to know Will again, she realised that his comment that had got her all fired up that day was said in jest; it was not meant to demean her. And she’d run away without giving him a chance to fix it. And she had just done the same thing to him over Prowsy. She was like Will after Patty died – but he’d only run once whereas she’d kept on doing it. What an idiot she was. What a pig-headed idiot.

Some time later, Bella was draping some baby clothes Shelley had given her, over a clotheshorse to dry in front of the roaring fire. Turbo was running around in circles at her feet whining to be let out for a toilet stop.

‘Okay, okay. I get the message,’ Bella muttered to the dog, as she moved towards the door. She laughed as Turbo nearly ran head-first into the glass in his haste to get outside.

Bella walked back to the clotheshorse. Reached to straighten a jumper hanging a little awry. A sudden whoosh of water made her look down. She fought back panic. Oh hell!

Will was worried about Bella. She might be a stubborn fool of a girl who wouldn’t listen to a thing he tried to say, but she was still pregnant and this storm was pretty bad. Then again, she obviously wanted nothing more to with him. He thumped around his kitchen and then sat roughly on his couch as he thought about going to check on her.

He was on his feet and moving out into the night before he even knew he’d made up his mind.

The rain was teeming down; huge droplets bounced at least a foot back into the air after they hit the dirt. The ground around Maggie’s house had turned to a quagmire.

Will stepped onto the old verandah, dodging the gushing water streaming from the holey, rusted guttering that was weaving wildly in the wind. Thunder rumbled and spat from overhead, with only seconds between the crashes and the flashes of light splitting the sky from end to end.

Will could barely hear his own laboured breathing amid all the noise. He grabbed the handle of the sliding door and wrenched it open. He was going in whether she wanted him there or not.

Bella was draped frontwards over Maggie’s old leather recliner. A beanbag was jammed between her heavy belly and the seat back. She was groaning; guttural moans coming from deep within her as she laboured over the chair.

‘Bella!
Bella!
Are you all right?’

She didn’t answer – couldn’t even look up – as she was gripped by an almighty contraction that had her fighting for breath.

Will felt panic crash in from all sides, as his thoughts collided. She was in labour. There was a wild storm raging outside. The road to Burrindal was cut off by fallen trees – he knew because he’d tried to drive it earlier in the evening.

He saw Bella groan into the beanbag again, her whole body straining. The pain looked excruciating. He needed to do something, fast.

He used his satellite phone to ring for the emergency helicopter, only to be told the storm had moved through the whole of East Gippsland, causing accidents and mayhem. The choppers were flat-out keeping up with the demand. Even the police helicopter was way out to sea helping a yacht in trouble.

‘How close is she?’ asked the operator.

‘How the fuck do I know?’ shouted Will in frustration. ‘I’m not a flamin’ doctor. From what I know of cows, I’d say she’s got a little way to go.’

‘Well, just keep in contact with us and we’ll get someone there as soon as we can.’

Bella had moved further to the ground, trying to get comfortable. Lying face-down on the beanbag balanced over a broad wooden coffee table, she writhed and moaned. Will could see it was taking its toll on her.

Bella, for her part, had tuned her out from her surroundings. She knew Will was there. Was
pleased
he was there – for her. She realised now she’d made a terrible mistake. Prowsy was more than capable of twisting a situation to suit her own ends. Wes was right: it was a matter of trust, and when it came down to it, a matter of love. And love and trust Will, she did. There was no doubt about that. No one was perfect, least of all her.

Taking a torch off the mantle, Will walked into the old hallway, floorboards creaking as they took the pressure of his weight. He headed towards the old black phone table on the far wall, slid a rickety drawer out from below the tabletop and rummaged around until he finally found what he was looking for.

Running his fingers down Maggie’s teledex, he found the name and then the number he was after. Lifting up the sat phone, he dialled – heard a voice on the other end and made his request.

A nod, a yes, and Will read the numbers from the emergency coordinates up on the wall in front of the phone. Another nod, a yes, and he gently pushed a button to end the call. Putting a hand to his forehead, he pinched the wrinkled skin of his frown, thinking for a moment before he turned. Hoping he’d done the right thing.

He returned to the lounge room, to wait. To try to help Bella by rubbing her lower back as the time between the contractions grew shorter and shorter.

Whup, whup, whup
.

From her place leaning over the beanbag, Bella cocked her head.

Whup, whup, whup.

A leaden feeling hit her chest and travelled down into her gut; a sense of deja vu.

Whup, whup, whup.

As it got louder, Will moved to the door to watch the helicopter materialise through the night gloom. It landed in the calf paddock beside the house, powering down from full throttle but keeping its rotor blades slowly turning while a figure climbed out through the passenger door and hurried across the grass. With the lightning and thunder now gone, Will walked out into the wet blackness, ready to meet the man as he came through the garden gate.

Another contraction kicked in. She’d known she was carrying the baby posteriorly but hadn’t known the labour would all be in her back; Dr Weir hadn’t mentioned that. She’d been so sure the baby had moved around the right way when it did that enormous flip the other day. But if it had, her tummy would be rhythmically contorting with pain, not convulsing alongside this excruciating backache.

And then she was gone into her own insular world, totally focused on getting through the next few minutes, breathing heavily, rocking and writhing with the pain, trying to find some relief.

‘Your ride’s arrived, Bella.’ Will’s deep voice came from somewhere near her ear.

She realised he was on his knees beside her. Then she could hear him getting up and walking around gathering pillows, blankets and her suitcase, which had been sitting half-packed in the corner of her bedroom. The pain eased and she could focus once again, eyes opening to saucers when she saw who’d arrived.

Warren stood uncomfortably just outside the sliding doorway.

‘Bella.’ A self-conscious nod and then a flick of his eyes, focusing somewhere over her head.

She sat back on her heels, pale-faced and exhausted. She looked up at Will, a challenging question in her eyes.

Will shrugged, his eyes soft even as his face hardened in concern for her. ‘It’s for the best, Bella. It’d take me at least eight hours to cut us out of here and the medivac chopper will take a while, they’ve got a bit on and we haven’t got . . . I mean
you
haven’t got that long to spare.’ His voice almost pleaded for her to forgive him.

She paused for a moment, stiff and restrained, as if there were a decision to be made. It only lasted moments and then she dropped all pretence of being in control. Will moved to her side and gently lifted her into his arms and carried her towards the door.

‘Grab the case, Warren. And could you belt out to the shed and flick the red stop button on the generator? Here, take this so you can see what you’re doing.’ Will motioned with his head to a big no-nonsense Dolphin torch sitting on the kitchen table. ‘I’ll put her in the chopper.’

Warren grabbed the case with his pale, soft hands and stumbled towards the shed. Opening the large stable door, he clicked off the big red button on the generator and then carried the case towards the gleaming Oxford, Bride and Associates helicopter.

As he ran to the front passenger door, he could see that Will had Bella belted in and Warren was clipping up his own seatbelt beside her. He watched as Bella reached out to grab Will’s hand. Warren then wrenched open his door, jumped into his seat, clipped up his belt and then nodded to the pilot. The helicopter powered up and slowly lifted off, to spin south and fly over the mountains; to carry its passengers through the night to the regional hospital at Narree.

Chapter 44

The two men lounged on opposite sides of the waiting room, a glass-encased cubicle outside the hospital’s maternity ward.

Warren sat in his Italian wool suit, knees crossed primly, head thrown back staring at the ceiling.