Silver Clouds (3 page)

Tessa was left listening to silence. She tapped the pages again, flipped through a few of them but couldn't concentrate. She was agitated. What if Darcy wouldn't let her go home? Also bothering her was the ‘John Smith Incident', as she'd come to call it. The ‘what if' questions.
What if someone saw me? What if I've been caught?
The answer to all of those questions was: she'd be sacked.

‘I'm such an idiot,' she groaned, her head dropping forward.

Jaz's face appeared above the barrier. ‘Can I come in?' she asked. ‘Just need to chat about the ad campaign we want to run next week. Oh, are you okay, Tessa?'

Tessa looked up at her friend. Fear shot through her. Perhaps Jaz had found out that John Smith worked at Soho Marketing. Tessa hadn't yet been brave enough to tell her.

Jaz came around and put her hand on her friend's shoulder. ‘I know Violet's death must be such a shock.'

‘Shouldn't be, really,' Tessa said, relieved that Jaz hadn't mentioned John Smith. ‘She was ninety-three but, you know, sometimes I feel a long way away.' She shrugged, trying to make light of it.

‘Yes, it's a bloody long way away. I remember your Aunty Spider being almost frightening but exciting at the same time. And it was always obvious how much she loved you' – Jaz stopped and looked down at her friend.' You must be devastated. No wonder you're out of sorts. When's the funeral?'

‘Soon. In a week. I'm trying to get hold of Mr Anderson to explain, but I can't get past the guard dog.'

Jaz smiled. ‘Well, you must go! I can take care of the conference next week. And the new account! Although I don't envy you heading out to the Nullarbor in the middle of summer. You'll die! Oh, I didn't mean it like that . . .'

Tessa reached out and squeezed Jaz's hand. ‘Thanks, Jaz. That would be fantastic. You know how I feel about Aunty Spider. She was . . . Well, she was everything.'

When Jaz had returned to her desk, Tessa tried to focus on the project at hand. Her client had sent through a list of tasks which, of course, all needed to be completed that second, but her brain was too fuzzy to make sense of the instructions.

Her email pinged. Glad of the distraction, she clicked on her inbox. The email was from Darcy Anderson himself, not the guard dog. With trepidation, she double clicked.

Dear Tessa,
Please be in my office in ten minutes.
D. Anderson

Eek.
Fear shot through her, cold as a mountain stream. She pushed back her chair and grabbing her bag and blazer, rushed to the restroom to make sure her makeup and hair were neat. She ran her hands down her long taupe skirt and straightened her white silk top. Quickly she checked her heels for gum then shrugged on her suit jacket. She stared at herself for a moment, but the eyes that stared back were tormented. She tried to control her breathing. Panic swirled in her stomach.

Her hands shook as she fumbled in her handbag for the vodka miniature. Tessa knew this was becoming a habit and it frightened her. Every time she took a sip of that bottle she rationalised it by thinking she only took a hit when she
really
needed it – before a meeting with a big client, and after said meeting when it had gone wrong.

Two glugs later, she glanced at her watch. Screwing the lid on, she stood up, straightened her back and breathed deeply. As she felt the alcohol take hold, confidence coursed through her. What did she care, anyway, if someone found out? She hadn't known who John Smith was when she met him and it wasn't like she'd talked about any secret marketing plans. She couldn't be blamed for that. Then the wave of confidence passed: obviously she had no idea what John had done while she had been completely out to it. He could have looked at her iPhone and checked her emails.

Oh hell.
She felt sick at the thought.

*

Darcy greeted her with a dry handshake and a warm smile, which threw her off balance. His auburn wavy hair looked in need of a cut and his shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, was rumpled. As she glanced quickly around the office, it was clear he was under pressure and very busy. Files and newspapers covered his desk, so she wasn't surprised when he waved her towards a small coffee table near the window.

‘I was so sorry to hear about Violet's passing,' he said by way of greeting as he settled into a high-back chair. ‘My PA forwarded me your email.'

Tessa swallowed. ‘Thank you.'

‘Hers and William's was one of the great love stories, wasn't it? A young English jackaroo meets girl on beach, they marry, he gets killed in the war and she never remarries, living out her life in the isolation of the Nullarbor.' He leaned forward and steepled his fingers. ‘Family was very important to her, wasn't it? After William died, there was no need to do what she did. For her to travel over here and meet my family, bring photos and stories of his life, so they could feel a part of what he had experienced. But it was important to her and I know my lot appreciated it enormously.'

‘Yes, I can't imagine ever loving anyone so much,' Tessa blurted, wondering if it were true. ‘I know she enjoyed her time over here. But she never travelled overseas again. Never really left Danjar Plains for very long.'

Darcy smiled. ‘How did she get the nickname of Spider? I've always wondered. I wouldn't have dared call her that, mind you. She was always Violet to us.'

‘Apparently her little brother, Tom, who was my granddad, couldn't say Violet and he always called her Spider. Violet and Spider sound similar to a little kid, I guess.' She shrugged. ‘It just seemed to stick. I don't think anyone called her Violet.'

Darcy nodded. ‘One of those strange family traditions . . .' He looked at her carefully. ‘So, you want to go back for the funeral.' It was a bald statement, not a question.

‘Yes. Yes, I do.' The relief she felt knowing at last that the meeting was about compassionate leave and
not
the John Smith Incident was incredible. She gave a nervous giggle then clamped her hand over her mouth.

‘I understand you have a new account and a large conference next week?'

‘Yes I do but, Mr Anderson, I feel it's important for me to be with my family at this time. I can work on the new account remotely while I'm away. In fact, the time away from the office may be just what I need for that project – the space to think outside the square.'

She crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt, picking at the hem. ‘The conference is a little more difficult, I admit. However, if I may suggest sending Jasmine Coulder? She's been working with me on some of the projects and has a good eye for detail. And given we started together, she has all the experience I have, if not the promotions.'

Darcy thought for a moment before jumping up from his seat and striding over to his desk. He riffled through a pile of papers until he found the one he was looking for. Pulling a pen from behind his ear, he made a note on it.

Tessa began to wonder how much of his attention she actually had.

‘Of course you need to be there,' Darcy said, still looking at his note. ‘And to be honest, I should be as well. However, that isn't an option. You may take two weeks.'

Tessa shut her eyes with relief and smiled. ‘Thank you,' she said softly.

‘Jasmine is a good idea,' Darcy commented, his brow wrinkling in thought. ‘Yes, yes. A very good idea.' He made another note on the file in front of him, then shuffled some more papers around. ‘Now, one other thing, Tessa.' He opened a drawer only to slam it shut. ‘It's here somewhere. Ah, yes.' Darcy took what looked like a photograph and held it out to her.

Her eyes flew between him and the picture in panic. Resisting the urge to snatch it, Tessa slowly rose and reached towards it.

‘I hope you'll be able to represent my family at Violet's funeral. I'm having a plaque made, and it'll be shipped from Kalgoorlie. Something like this one in the pamphlet.'

Tessa took hold of the paper. She could have wept with relief – it was a brochure advertising memorials and plaques.

‘I wonder if you wouldn't mind finding the best spot to place it? Somewhere on Danjar Plains. I only met her that once, but Violet made an impression on me.'

Tessa's voice caught as she said: ‘Absolutely. Aunty Spider made an impression on everyone. She won't be forgotten easily.'

Chapter 3
Nullarbor Plains

Harrison felt his way around the fixed-wing Cessna, checking the flaps. Cally, his daughter, already a seasoned flyer at eleven, had checked the fuel and was pushing the hangar doors open wide. Light streamed in, as did the warm breeze, which had picked up in the last couple of hours. Coupled with the heat of the day, Harrison knew it might be a bit bumpy heading over to the Mathisons at Danjar Plains.

‘How's the fuel looking?' he asked.

Cally turned her pixie face towards him, shoved her grubby Akubra back on her head and gave him a smile. ‘It's fine, Dad. I don't ever remember you having dirty fuel.' She flicked her thick pony tail back over her shoulder.

‘Better safe than sorry.' He studied her for a moment, then leaned over to brush a spider web from the shoulder of her checked shirt. As always, when he looked at her his heart tightened. The smattering of freckles across her nose and her vivid blue eyes, which were the same colour as the everlasting wildflowers of the Nullarbor, made her the spitting image of her mother. It reminded Harrison once again that Ange was no longer there.

It would be three years next month since she died. Three long years. For the first five months, Cally had pined for her mother. Then she'd realised Ange wasn't coming back and just seemed to get on with life. Harrison hadn't. He still missed his wife as keenly as the day she passed.

He'd sat holding her hand in the Kalgoorlie hospital, having taken extended leave from his manager's job on Mundranda so he could be with her every moment. The cancer had eaten her away, leaving nothing but a frail shell. She had never lost her fighting spirit, though. Until her last breath, she had fought to stay with him, with Cally. But, in the end, the cancer had won.

‘Dad?'

Harrison realised his daughter was looking at him knowingly. She was too smart for her – and his – own good.

‘Sorry, I was thinking. What did you say?'

‘You were thinking about Mum, weren't you?'

‘Guilty as charged.' He held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘You just look so much like her, that's all.'

Cally cast her eyes down, but not before he saw her cheek bulge and Harrison knew she'd poked her tongue into the empty space, where a molar should be. Harrison had played tooth-fairy for only the third time, two nights ago.

‘I'm sorry,' she said quietly.

Harrison stood stock-still. ‘What for?'

‘For being like her, for reminding you all the time.' The earnest face glanced quickly at him then away.

Ah, shit. After three years, he still hadn't worked out how to handle this sort of situation.

He scratched his head, then moved over to her. ‘Cally,' he said softly. ‘Cally, I wouldn't have you any other way. You are part of her and she is part of you. That's what makes you so special.' He raised her head up to look at him. ‘You are beautiful.'

He let his words sink in, then stepped away. ‘Come on, we need to get over to Danjar Plains and see Paul and Peggy. They'll be sad about Violet.'

‘Oh, Dad, it's horrible,' Cally burst out. ‘Why do people have to die?'

‘It's part of life, love,' he said gently. ‘Come on, you know that. Violet was a fair age and although it doesn't make it any easier for the ones left behind, she had a good innings. A good life.'

‘I know, but I hate it.' Cally's mouth turned downwards and her lips trembled as Harrison pulled her into a hug. Harrison felt her warm tears seep through his shirt. Finally he asked, ‘Do you want to fly?'

‘Oh, can I?'

‘Come on then.'

They quickly finished their checks and climbed aboard.

Harrison started the engine and taxied forward onto the dirt strip. ‘We'll have a squiz at the tanks out on the northern side while we're up,' he said into the headset.

Cally nodded seriously and adjusted the headphones and microphone so they were comfortable.

They were lined up and ready to take off. Harrison pushed the throttle in and out four times, as he listened to the engine and felt the machine shake.

He looked across at his daughter. ‘Ready?'

She nodded again.

Harrison let out the pedals and the aircraft roared down the runway. As they left the ground, he felt exhilaration run through his body, but his expression didn't show it. He loved that moment when the wheels left the ground and quickly everything was beneath him, growing smaller and smaller. It was the only time he felt truly free – like one of the resident wedge-tailed eagles, soaring far above the land, looking at everything below. The country unrolled before him like a great map.

He levelled the plane out at five hundred feet and indicated for Cally to take the controls. Then he watched her carefully, reminding her which instruments to monitor. When he was satisfied she was okay, his gaze turned to the view out of the window.

He knew he'd get into a world of trouble if the Aviation blokes knew, but if something ever happened to him while they were flying, Cally needed to know enough to get out of any difficulty that could arise and land the plane safely. And the way he saw it, he was nurturing her love of flying. Hopefully, by the time she was sixteen, she would be getting her own licence. He couldn't see how it was different to kids driving on stations before they got their driver's licence.

Towards the south where the ocean lay, light cloud hugged the ground, but with the heat of the sun, it would soon dissipate. Looking towards the north, the vivid blue sky merged with the hazy horizon. When they drew closer to Danjar Plains, the sky would bleed into the white sand dunes and the sparkling azure of the Great Australian Bight. He could lose himself in either view.