FOLLOW THE MORNING STAR (40 page)

They stood and Queenie smiled at Tango. Thank you, darling. I feel much better. How come you’re such a wise boy?’

Tango hugged her. ‘Because you’re the mother that I thought I’d lost and I love you very much and I’d kill for you if it would make you happy.’

Queenie stroked his face. ‘I don’t deserve you.’

‘Oh yes, you do.’ Tango took her hand. ‘Show me the makings of this flash new jacket I’m going to get.’

She linked her arm through his and chatted eagerly about the new safe technique for getting the wool off the sheepskin hides. Tango glanced over his shoulder and saw Millie hovering in a doorway. He gave her a swift smile and a wink and Millie sighed with relief, but Tango was still disturbed.

TR tackled the grand cedar staircase. Jenni stood close by giving advice and encouragement as he hauled himself up the stairs, using the broad bannister and his newly acquired walking cane as support. He began to get the hang of lifting each leg up a step. Jenni stood behind him on the step below to give him a feeling of security.

TR was sweating with exertion and nerves. But he made it to the landing and stood motionless, holding on with both hands, aware his knees were shaking.

‘Take a deep breath or two, TR. If you want to, sit on the next stair for a minute,’ she advised.

TR sat on the bottom step of the curving section of the staircase that led to the upper floor. Jenni sat beside him and gazed at the portraits of Rose and Patrick Hanlon. ‘They look like nice people.’

TR looked at the portraits and although they were strangers to him, for a moment he had a feeling of great warmth, as if he had been close to them. ‘Yes, they do, don’t they.’

‘Did you know them?’ asked Jenni.

‘I think so,’ said TR slowly. ‘I can’t remember anything, my mind is telling me nothing; but my body is telling me yes, I knew and liked them. I can’t explain it really.’ He rose painfully to his feet. ‘I’m ready for the final ascent.’

Slowly TR made it to the top and looked along the length of the corridor. ‘Go and explore,’ suggested Jenni. ‘It’s your home. I’ll wait here. Don’t trip on the rugs.’ Jenni began looking at the grouped family photographs along the wall as TR limped along the hall.

He hesitated, then opened doors, peering into strange bedrooms. With a pang, he opened the door to what he realised was the master bedroom, the room he’d shared with Queenie. He went inside. The French doors leading to the verandah stood open, the white antique lace curtains billowing lightly in the breeze. A vase of flowers stood on a small table beside a pile of books and silver-framed photographs of Queenie, TR, Tango and Saskia. He looked at the bed where they must have made
love. He turned away and stepped to the door of the shared dressing room. Clothes that must be his hung opposite Queenie’s. TR suddenly felt he was suffocating and turned away quickly, to find Jenni standing by the bed watching him.

He walked to her and looked into her eyes. Seeing his confused expression, she reached out and touched his face. TR covered her small hand with his, pressing it to his cheek, closing his eyes as if in pain. Jenni’s heart ached for him and she slipped her arm about his shoulders and drew him to her. A muffled sigh that could have been a sob escaped him and he leaned against Jenni, causing her to stumble backwards, and they both fell onto the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. TR lifted his head and gazed into Jenni’s eyes, then in a sudden surge of passion began kissing her wildly, pressing her body beneath his. Jenni kissed him back, clutching him, her passion mounting and matching his. TR caressed her pert small breasts, finding her nipples hard and pointed. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he flung a leg across Jenni’s thighs. A sudden searing pain made him catch his breath and with a jolt he realised what he was doing. Lifting his lips from hers, he said huskily, ‘No’.

Jenni kept her arms around him. ‘It’s okay, TR.’

‘No. This isn’t right. You’re sweet, Jenni, but I . . .’ TR was confused, unsure of what his real feelings were. He depended on Jenni; he felt he knew her better than anyone else — she was the only person he really felt comfortable
with. But she was young enough to be his daughter. And what would this do to Queenie? Even if she never knew, he would always have to address this act of betrayal and, no matter what the circumstances, or what his own feelings were, it was wrong.

He struggled to sit up. ‘I’m sorry, Jenni. This just isn’t the right time . . . or place.’ He touched her face gently and left the room.

At the end of the hall was the guest suite Jenni was using. TR gazed sadly at her clothes flung across a chair, paused, then left the room, making his way laboriously back down the hall.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs Millie appeared and gave him a penetrating look. ‘Anything seem familiar?’ she asked.

‘No. I feel like a Peeping Tom.’ TR turned on his heel and headed for his verandah room.

Dinner was a strained affair with Dingo and Tango trying to keep the conversation going with stories of their various adventures in the bush. Dingo laughed as Tango finished the story of his disastrous rodeo riding career.

‘I guess I’ll leave the rodeo records to Dad,’ Tango grinned.

Dingo announced he’d be off in the morning and so Queenie suggested they have a glass of best Para port to toast Dingo for his help and to wish him a safe journey. In the confusion of Jenni taking away the plates and Millie bringing in the coffee, Tango rose. ‘I’ll get the port,’ he said. ‘Where is it?’

‘In there,’ said TR pointing to the door at the bottom of the sideboard.

‘Right.’ Tango bent down and took out the old bottle of port. ‘Pass the glasses, Mum.’

But Queenie was staring at TR. ‘How did you know the special port was there? We normally drink decanted port from the sideboard.’

TR suddenly realised what he’d said. He looked confused. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t think, it just came out.’ Silence fell and everyone looked at TR. ‘Well stop looking at me like I’m doing party tricks!’ he said trying to joke, but his voice trembled.

‘All right, pour the bloody port,’ said Dingo and slowly conversation resumed. But Jenni kept casting anxious glances at TR.

TR caught her eye and gave her a querying look.

She leaned towards him and said in a low voice, ‘Do you feel all right? Any headaches or anything?’

He shook his head and tried to turn away but Jenni persisted. ‘Are you sure, this could be significant.’

‘What? Knowing where a bottle of port is kept? For Chrissake, Jenni, it’s no big deal.’

‘It could be important, TR. It shows that all your memories are still there, you just don’t know how to retrieve them. Perhaps if we . . .’

TR’s patience snapped. ‘Give it a rest, Jenni. You think I’m going to be cured between the dessert and the port, just like that!’ He snapped his fingers at her and Jenni recoiled in distress.

‘TR, I’m just trying to help . . .’ she began.

‘I’m tired of being helped!’ snapped TR and
the table fell silent as everyone stared at them. ‘And I thought you’d be the last person to push me into getting my memory back!’

‘TR, that’s not fair . . .’ Jenni looked like she was about to burst into tears. She pushed back her chair and, mumbling an apology, fled from the table.

‘Good one, Dad,’ said Tango tersely as he hurried after Jenni.

TR sat looking down at his plate as Queenie looked at Dingo. ‘Pass the port,’ said Dingo and Queenie handed him the bottle.

Tango found Jenni sitting in the darkness on the verandah. She brushed tears from her cheek as she heard his footsteps. He sat down beside her.

‘You okay? Don’t let him upset you. He’s still pretty tense.’

‘I know. I was just a bit taken aback. And embarrassed,’ she sniffed.

‘He’ll apologise, I’m sure. And nobody took much notice.’ Tango found her hand and squeezed it. They sat in silence for a moment as Tango played with her fingers. Then he asked, ‘What did Dad mean when he said he didn’t think you’d want him to get his memory back?’

‘I guess he figures if he remembers everything, he’ll remember that he loves Queenie and not me.’

‘And that would upset you?’ asked Tango.

Jenni gently withdrew her hand. ‘Let’s not talk about it now, Tango. You know I’m fond of TR. Of you both,’ she added with a catch in her voice. ‘This is very confusing.’

Tango drew her to her feet. ‘Let’s go into the kitchen and scrounge some more of Millie’s dessert.’

And together they both added, ‘And a cup of tea!’ Laughing, they walked along the verandah where long yellow patches of light from the windows shone across the darkened lawns.

The following morning Dingo was loading his gear into the utility truck. Jim was driving him into Longreach to the airport. Dingo had done the rounds saying goodbye and he’d gone out earlier that morning to make a special trip to the cottage where Snowy lived.

‘Hey, Snow, I’m off,’ he called at the front door.

Snowy walked stiffly toward Dingo and, as if on cue, the two men pulled their worn bush hats from their heads at the same moment. The two elderly white-haired men shook hands, Dingo rested his free hand on top of their clasped hands. They looked deep and steadily into each other’s eyes. No words were spoken. They were two men from different cultures and backgrounds yet they shared a deep love of the bush and the land, of this place and this family. They were men who had made their own way in the world. One had made a fortune, the other possessed very few material belongings, yet they had a common strength of values and belief in the spirit of the land.

‘Look after Tingulla, Snowy.’

‘I’ll always do that, boss.’

Dingo looked at the old Aborigine and knew Snowy would always be there — in the rocks and trees and wind.

Snowy flashed his gap-toothed smile. ‘Good huntin’ over there in the west.’

‘I do my best, Snow. Never know what I’ll get up to next.’ Dingo turned back to the house, going to the kitchen to farewell the others.

As Dingo threw the last bag into the back of the Toyota, TR came limping up, leaning on his walking cane. Dingo took his hand and slapped him on the back, ‘Anytime you want a break . . . let me rephrase that . . . any time you want to escape all these doting women and help with a new scheme I’m working on, come over and stay with me. You’ve been promising for years.’

TR smiled. ‘I might just surprise you. Thanks for all your help, Dingo. Is that the lot?’

‘Yep I reckon so. I travel light,’ said Dingo. ‘Here come the mob to see me off.’

Queenie and Tango strolled over followed by Jenni and Millie, who was busily organising Jim’s trip to town. Dingo said his farewells then turned to Queenie and gave her a hug. ‘You just live for each moment, luv,’ he whispered in her ear.

As the vehicle disappeared down the drive, a gloom seemed to settle over the group. Tango dispelled it with an invitation that turned attention in his direction. ‘Hey, Jenni, before you start work, come and have a game of tennis with me.’

Jenni glanced at TR who nodded. ‘Go ahead, I’m going to have a shower and tidy up a bit. I’ll see you later.’

‘Be careful in the shower, TR. Sit on the plastic chair,’ advised Jenni protectively.

‘Hey, he’s a grown up,’ interjected Tango. ‘Come on, Jenni, I’m off tomorrow, this is your last chance.’ He took her hand and ran off in the direction of the tennis court.

‘I’m going to see if there’s any more tea and toast left, I rushed breakfast,’ Queenie announced with forced brightness.

Queenie took a fresh pot of tea and a
New Woman
magazine onto the verandah. It was a peaceful morning, the sun had burned off the dew from the grass, magpies were fighting over scraps Ruthie had scattered for them. Queenie sipped her tea, reflecting on what Dingo had said — live for the moment. How lucky she was really . . . to be in such a beautiful place at this moment in time. Her children were well and happy and TR, if not restored to her in heart and spirit, was mending physically. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift in this brief pocket of contentment as the faint thud of tennis balls and laughter from Tango and Jenni drifted up from the tennis court.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Saskia was working on Toffee’s training programme in between running the trail rides for the now officially opened and functioning Harmony Hill. The retreat had had a low-key opening with invited press, health and tourism officials, and influential celebrities known to be interested and sympathetic to an alternative holiday concept.