A Wish and a Wedding (6 page)

“No need to shout at me.” He began to mount the stairs, tall commanding, insufferably sure of himself. “I can't wait to meet her. Tell me, has she heard terrible things about me?”

“She hasn't heard a damned thing about you,” Tori told him fiercely, reaching out to seize the door handle. He beat her to it.

“Well, that's a relief. Allow me.” His hand was over hers: a beautiful hand, long-fingered, strong, calluses on the pads. His tone mocked her.

Tori took a deep shaky breath. At times like this it was brought home forcibly that skin was the largest organ in the body.
Skin on skin!

Oh, God!
she thought helplessly.

Try to think of it this way.
Her inner voice unexpectedly came to her aid.
Love is only a four-letter word.

But it was a magic word. That was the thing. A word so powerful it changed lives.

She burst into the house as if a stalker was close on her heels, not Haddo. “Goodnight,” she tossed at him, very fast. “I know I'll sleep soundly knowing that was our
last
kiss.”

“How long will it remain the last, I wonder?” Haddo called after her.

She didn't answer, but a fierce flush burned her cheeks.

B
RODY
had the job of driving them to the commercial airstrip, where the Beech Baron awaited them, but first Chrissy had to be picked up from outside the women's shelter. Tori had made a quick dash to the shelter the day before, to issue Chrissy with an invitation, not really sure whether Chrissy would accept or not. The truly bizarre thing she had learned about some of the battered women at the shelter was that husbands or partners only had to say they were sorry, they hadn't meant it, and cite pressures and stresses, for the women to pack up their few possessions and return to the same dreadful situation. Not only that, but take their poor frightened little kids with them. It was heartbreaking! But Chrissy deserved a chance. She had sworn to Tori she was going to break free—“If only he'll let me!”

When Tori had issued the invitation Chrissy had burst into tears. “God, Vicki, I don't believe this,” she had sobbed, desperate to take the support offered. “No one has done anythin' for me. Ever! Not since Mum died.”

Tori had wiped the mascara streaks from Chrissy's thin cheeks. “You're going to love it, Chrissy,” she assured her. “And best of all you'll be safe.”

Chrissy's bully of a boyfriend would be in huge trouble if he ever found out where Chrissy was and decided to follow. One could almost wish he would, just so he could be taught a lesson he would never forget. Violence against women and
children occurred everywhere in the world, but not on Mallarinka. Chrissy would be safe.

As it happened, the Master of Mallarinka was now asking, “If it's not a rude question, Victoria, where exactly are we going?” Haddo was up front with Brody. Tori was in the back.

“Not far now,” she said vaguely, as the Rolls proceeded on its stately progress through one of the least desirable parts of town. Gangs of adolescents at neither school nor work were standing about on street corners. A few turned to make vulgar salutes at the Rolls, accompanied by the usual look of challenge in their eyes.

“I've a feeling you haven't been straight with me,” Haddo observed crisply.

“No kidding?”

“Well, if I offend you I don't give a damn. Chrissy isn't a prostitute, is she? One with a heart of gold?”

Brody turned a laugh into a cough, while Tori said sharply. “Of course not! Chrissy is a good kid. She just needs a break.”

“It's a women's shelter, isn't it?” Haddo guessed, staring out at a heavily moustachioed bald guy who looked like a movie bank robber.

“You've never seen such sad cases in your whole life,” Tori lamented. “Oh, there she is!”

Up ahead Chrissy was waiting in front of the shelter, a suitcase at her feet. Tori had warned her in advance she would most probably be picking her up in a Rolls-Royce—something that had made Chrissy choke with laughter—so when she saw the Rolls approaching Chrissy began to wave a hanky very energetically.

“And that is Chrissy?” Haddo turned his head over his shoulder to enquire.

“Miss Victoria takes a real interest in the shelter,” said Brody, a long time confidante, with considerable approval in his tone. “No one could say Miss Victoria is lacking in heart,” he added fondly.

“You dark horse, you, Miss Victoria.” Haddo's blue eyes mocked her. “You've been very careful to keep that to yourself, haven't you?”

“That's the way I am!” she retorted breezily. “I notice you don't advertise all
your
numerous acts of philanthropy either, or all your good deeds. It's a family thing. Now, let me do the talking, Haddo,” she said, as Brody pulled the big car into the kerb beside Chrissy, who was almost tap dancing in excitement.

“Go right ahead,” he invited nonchalantly. “It'll take me a moment to catch my breath anyway.”

A beaming Chrissy awaited them, decked out in her finest. Some might have said they were extraordinary garments. Others might have mistaken her for a little bag lady. A red beanie was pulled down over brown corkscrew curls that stuck out at random. Her ears were pierced with several metal rings. She wore a fake diamond stud in her nose. Red stockings to match her beanie clothed her brolga-thin legs. A pair of substantial black boots weighted down her small feet.

The two young women, who couldn't possibly have presented a more dissimilar image, exchanged hugs while a fascinated Haddo took in Chrissy at a glance.

Just what I need, he thought. Someone else to worry about. And as for Tori? Tori was constantly surprising him. Not that she hadn't always had a tender heart. This poor little waif, who showed every sign of having had a tough life, was Tori's friend—though he thought Chrissy could look a whole lot better minus the heavy metal, dressed in decent clothes and with more weight on her. They could take care of that part of it.

It was obvious she was wildly excited, even kissing Brody, who had stepped out of the Rolls to store her small tattered suitcase—she wasn't over-burdened with possessions—in the boot. Brody took the kiss well.

My turn! thought Haddo, detecting from long practice the look of anxiety Tori was trying to hide behind big black Gucci sunglasses.

“This is Haddo,” Tori introduced him, rapid fire.
Get it over.

Chrissy blushed scarlet and gave him a nerve-strangled,
“Hello. Pleased to meet you, Haddo. Or should I call you Mr Rushford?” Haddo noticed the broken front tooth.

“Haddo will do,” Tori clipped off for him.

He gave Tori a quick glance. “Well, you
did
say you'd do the talking. Nice to have you along, Chrissy,” he said. That tooth had to be fixed. He filed it away for future attention. He didn't want to waste any more time, so he began to shepherd both young women into the back seat. “Better get going,” he murmured to Brody as he slipped into the passenger seat. “Before someone throws a rock at the Rolls.”

“Will do, sir,” said Brody, surprised someone hadn't already done so.

 

The flight into Mallarinka was the most exciting event of Chrissy's young life. In fact it was the
only
flight Chrissy had ever taken. She had never been anywhere near a plane, much less seated in one, looking out at the white billowy clouds. It was all too fabulous! She had thought she was going to be apprehensive, but Haddo was a great pilot—and what was even more astonishing was that he flew his
own
plane. How cool was that? And so was
he.
Gorgeous, and such a gentleman. He treated her as if she was one of Vicki's
real
friends, instead of someone Vicki had been kind enough to rescue from a women's shelter.

Everyone at the shelter thought of Vicki as their guardian angel. Vicki had blushed when she had first heard it, and held up protesting hands.

“Listen up, ladies! You haven't got enough; I've got too much. It balances out.”

Be that as it may, no other heiresses had ever stopped by. Vicki had heart.

They all knew her. Some had formed not terribly complimentary opinions—beautiful, an heiress, little asked of her, less expected, and so forth. They had seen the photographs in the newspapers and magazines. Photographers never seemed to get tired of her. And why not? She was amazingly beautiful,
even when she came into the shelter dressed up in the Goth stuff and gave them all a good laugh. Nevertheless, it was just the most unlikely thing that
the
Victoria Rushford had turned up on the doorstep of the shelter wanting to help. Vicki and all of her friends were seriously rich, whereas for most of Chrissy's life she had had to struggle just to stay alive. It gave her an enormous feeling of security to know that just being a visitor on Mallarinka meant she was free of Zack's intimidation, and the periodic beltings when he was drunk. Easy for Zack to belt
her;
she would love to see him try to swing a punch at Haddo. That was if he could even reach Haddo's chin.

They had been flying over Mallarinka for some time. Now they were on their descent, which gave Chrissy a fresh burst of pleasure. For the first time she could see the homestead and all the outbuildings. It looked so exciting, yet bizarre. Who would expect what looked like a small town to be set down smack in the middle of absolutely nowhere? Chrissy had been born on a dairy farm near the lush Queensland/New South Wales border, and it was a fantastic experience to see the
real
Outback—especially from the air.

She was stunned by the vastness, the emptiness, and most of all the riot of dry ochre colours, that flared all over the landscape: the umbers, the yellows and purples, the orange and the dominant red. No wonder this was called the Red Centre. She had never thought of the Outback as full of colour, but more usually as arid, with wide brown land stricken by drought, but there it was beneath her, awe-inspiring. She was glorying in it. The fiery red of the plains that stretched to the horizon contrasted brilliantly with the cobalt blue of the sky and the big golden bushes like giant pincushions. She supposed it was spinifex, yet it made such a gilded splash.

Mallarinka—she loved the name—meant five lagoons. Haddo had told her. To her further astonishment, the station itself looked like a miraculous green sanctuary in a million square miles of shimmering red sand. She could feel the blood
tingling in her veins. It was truly breathtaking—and she had to admit frightening too. It would be perilously easy to get lost down there. She knew—every city dweller did—that the Outback was a dangerous place, especially the desert. Poorly schooled, she had nevertheless learned about the early explorers who had perished there on their ill-fated expeditions. And Mallarinka was on the great desert fringe, the legendary Channel Country—a riverine desert and the stronghold of the nation's cattle kings.

It was just so
glamorous!
Like Haddo and Vicki. They were glamorous people. Their life was so very far removed from hers they might have existed on a different planet. Yet they couldn't have been nicer. Glamour in abundance they might have, but they completely lacked what she thought of as airs and graces. It gave her a warm feeling to know she had such friends.

To the west lay a huge area of hilly country that rose from the extraordinary flatness of the plains, making them appear much higher than they were. The peaks had eroded over eons into glowing rounded minarets, rust-red in the blazing sunlight, purple in the shadowy canyons. Beyond the wing-tip she could see a vast ocean of red sand, with towering dunes running in parallel lines for all the world like ocean waves. Closer in to the homestead there were numerous long pools of water, surrounded by trees. Those were the billabongs, and there were also the five lagoons. Excitedly she counted them. One glinted like silver foil, another was an incredible light blue, like aqua-marine, two more had an opalescent milky-green sheen.

It was unearthly, unreal!

Chrissy considered herself the luckiest girl in the world. From the first day they had met and clicked, Vicki had shown her nothing but kindness. She would have to find some way to repay her.

 

Philippa stood, straight as an arrow, at the front door to greet them. She extended her arms to the full and Tori went into them.

“Darling girl, I've missed you!” Philippa said, placing a
gentle hand on Tori's luxuriant mane of hair, including Chrissy in her warm, welcoming smile.

“I've missed you too, Pip.” Tori patted and rubbed her great-aunt's thin back, all the while blinking back a few radiant tears. “I expect you know Haddo kidnapped me?”

Philippa's face broke into a smile. “Haddo has always had your best interests at heart, dear. Anyway, it's so lovely to have you.”

“This is my friend Chrissy, Pip.” Tori turned to introduce them.

Chrissy didn't come unheralded—Philippa had been informed—so Chrissy too got a hug. Neither woman, young or old, faltered at going into an embrace. It was very difficult to resist Philippa who carried with her a natural air of authority that demanded deference, but a bred-in-the-bone kindness too.

“Now, what say I show you to your rooms?” Philippa said. “You can settle in, then we'll have some afternoon tea. Haddo, dear?” she called to Haddo, who was standing on the verandah, pointing to the suitcases—all Tori's with the exception of one—for Bert, the station handyman, to bring in. “Are you going to stay for afternoon tea?”

“Sure,” Haddo responded. “But I have to have a word with Archie first.” Archie Reed was the station overseer. “Give me about twenty minutes.”

“Right, dear. Now, come on, gels.” Philippa led the way up an imposing main staircase that had a central landing then branched off to either side. “I've put Chrissy across the hallway from you, Tori, so she won't be lonely,” she explained. “It's a big house.”

Chrissy turned saucer eyes on Tori. “It's
humungous!
”

“Won't take you long to get used to it,” Tori said, companionably taking Chrissy's arm and dismissing the ancestral home of one of the great landed families of Australia.

 

During that first week Haddo gave both girls time to settle. Chrissy, at first clearly overawed—it was all
too
much—sat silently and very shyly at the dinner table, but gradually began
to thaw under the influence of so much ease and kindness. She was getting to know the house, and becoming more used to its splendour, its size, the furnishings, and all those paintings and beautiful things. It literally took her breath away.

Tori was the same as ever, though Chrissy couldn't help being in awe of Haddo and his status—but he was so nice to her—and Philippa was lovely. Not a bit stiff and starchy, even if she did speak like the Queen. Yet still Chrissy felt extraordinarily out of place. She sometimes thought it was like stumbling on to a movie set with beautiful rich people who lived in their own kingdom. But they had their troubles like everyone else. Tori had confided in her that she didn't much like her life as the Rushford heiress.