Licence to Dream (15 page)

‘I don't think I – Oh, why not?’ If Rosanna and her cousin were there, not to mention a big dog,
he
would find it very difficult to start bullying her again. She would enjoy frustrating him. ‘When shall I expect you?’

‘About lunchtime. Tell me again which road I take out of York.’

Rosanna and her cousin didn’t arrive until one o'clock, by which time Meriel was ravenously hungry and on edge in case Ben turned up before her visitors did. When a strange car bumped its way along the dirt track, sending up clouds of beige dust, she jumped to her feet, ready for anything, but it was Rosanna who poked her head out of the passenger window, waving one arm wildly.

The car door opened and a large golden dog erupted from it, paused to empty its bladder, then came over to sniff Meriel. It gave her a quick lick, thumped its tail against her legs a few times and set off, nose down, to explore its new surroundings, as any self-respecting dog would. It galloped to and fro energetically, venturing nearer for occasional pats, grinning widely all the time.

‘Stay still, you stupid mutt, and get acquainted properly,’ said its owner. ‘Hey! Come here, Tina!’

The dog came, head cocked questioningly, tail still wagging furiously.

‘Sit!’

It promptly flopped down on its belly and began to pant as if it had just run a marathon.

Rosanna came across to hug Meriel. ‘This is my cousin Maria.’

Meriel shook Maria's hand. ‘Why don't you come inside? It's another hot one today.’

‘You can say that again.’ Rosanna fanned herself with one hand.

Maria paused. ‘Is it all right if Tina comes inside too? She doesn't know she's a dog; she thinks she's a person and is therefore entitled to all house privileges. If you’re looking for an outdoors-only dog, she'll be no use to you. I hope Rosanna told you that.’

She glanced at the dog and shook her head fondly. ‘You're a real terror, aren't you?’

The dog promptly rolled over and presented a plump hairy stomach to be tickled. Meriel couldn’t resist the invitation and by the time they had gone inside, she knew she was hooked.

She’d always wanted a dog. Her father had once brought a red setter home that someone in the office was giving away, but her mother hadn’t allowed the poor creature inside her immaculately clean house and there had been another series of arguments between her parents.

In the end, her father had given the dog back and Meriel, then aged eight, had cried herself to sleep.

Two hours later, Rosanna and Maria left. Tina whimpered for a few minutes then took up residence on the bed. Meriel shooed her off it several times, but the dog kept creeping back into the bedroom, which had a faulty door catch, and lying on the bed looking blissfully comfortable.

Each time Meriel tried to banish her from the bedroom, Tina assumed a piteous expression and whined sadly and softly in her throat as she was moved out, then sneaked back at the first opportunity. Meriel had to laugh and in the end, they both rolled around on the bed, cuddling and grinning at each other.

There was no sign of Ben Elless all day. As dusk started to creep across the landscape, Meriel went to sit on the veranda, with Tina lying chasing dream rabbits at her feet. She sipped the single glass of cool white wine that was fast becoming an evening ritual and stared at the shadowy landscape, then looked down at the dog. It was nice not to be alone.

As for Elless, he’d probably thought better of his ridiculous threats and gone back to the Eastern States. She didn’t care if she never see him again. In fact, never would be far too soon.

She couldn’t quite persuade herself that she meant that. She’d really enjoyed his company till he got this bee in his bonnet about her home.

The day after Rosanna's visit, Meriel got up early and put on her usual working outfit of jeans and a tee shirt, protecting her feet from snakes and spiders by wearing work boots. She walked all over the nearest part of her block before the sun was hot, trying to learn the overall lie of the ground, where it sloped upwards, where it dipped. One day, she vowed, she’d be able to recognise every tree and plant on it, but for the moment, she didn’t have the faintest idea what some of them were.

Tina bounded along beside her, rushing off every now and then to pursue some fascinating scent trail or other. She seemed to have settled in well, though every now and then she would stand looking towards the road as if expecting someone.

Her obnoxious neighbour was right about one thing, Meriel conceded ruefully, as she took an hour to explore the small cleared area of her property. This place was far too big for her needs. Five or ten acres would have been just right. Seventy was ridiculous. Perhaps, if he calmed down and began to act in a more reasonable way, she might offer Elless the sixty or so acres of uncleared bush she didn’t need.

‘Get real!’ she told herself. ‘That man's not going to calm down after what he said to you. And anyway, why should I offer him anything? I certainly don't want
him
as a neighbour.’ She realised she was talking to herself yet again and clicked her tongue in exasperation. See what he was doing to her! Or did all people who lived on their own talk to themselves?

She sat down on a fallen tree trunk and stared at the low hill that marked the far boundary of her property. The bush could stay untouched as far as she was concerned. The kangaroos, lizards and cockatoos were welcome to it. All she needed to do for the moment was to arrange for the perimeter fire-breaks and fences to be maintained, which was her legal responsibility, though she didn’t see how a fire-break a car’s width would stop a raging bush fire.

She stared at a group of grass trees on the far side of the cleared patch of land. When the huge flower spikes were in bloom, the trees had looked to the early settlers like aboriginal hunters carrying spears, so had been called blackboys, but now you had to call them grass trees, which was more politically correct. They were a very strange sort of plant to her English eyes, a stubbly tree trunk blackened from bush fires, with a huge tuft of coarse strands coming out of the top. As each layer of the tough strands died, they formed the next ridge on the trunk.

It was getting warmer now so she started reluctantly back towards the house. She wasn’t stupid enough to stay out in the hottest part of the day. She didn’t want to damage her skin. She turned to look for Tina but there was no sign of the dog. After calling out several times she began to get annoyed. Then she thought she heard . . . yes, that was definitely a faint bark in the distance.

She listened carefully and realised in dismay that the sound was coming from the next block.

She walked to the fence line and stopped there, calling loudly and, she hoped, sounding firm and in control. This time there was a whole series of yips and barks in response to her calls but still the dog did not re-appear.

Resigning herself to another confrontation, she stepped over the sagging wires. ‘This is the last time you do this to me, Tina,’ she said aloud. ‘The very last time! I need another meeting with Ben Elless like I need a hole in the head. If you keep visiting in that direction, I'll have to walk you on a leash until he leaves and you wouldn't like that!’

Besides, if he saw her coming on to his property, looking as if she was seeking him out, he might think she had capitulated.

In his dreams!

As she got closer, she stopped again but couldn’t see the dog. She called as loudly as she could, but there was no sign of movement near the house. Perhaps she was lucky and he’d gone out. She hoped so.

She moved forward again and followed the barking right up to the old shack, dismayed to see his car there. Then she heard another sound, a faint noise which she couldn’t quite place. Pausing to listen, she looked round, worried that he might come out of the house to ask what she was doing there.

The roof of the old weatherboard house caught her eye. It was sagging so markedly on one side she couldn’t believe the place could possibly be safe. It looked as if it was about to fall down. Why on earth was Ben living in such a hovel?

As she rounded the corner she stopped dead in shock. The whole of the rear lean-to section had caved in and Tina was standing beside the resulting mound of twisted sheets of tin and broken pieces of wood and fibreboard, whining loudly. The dog kept looking towards Meriel and pawing at the pile of debris.

From underneath it came a groaning noise, the sound Meriel hadn’t been able to identify before. It was definitely a groan. Someone was trapped there!

‘Ben!’ There was no answer and the pile of debris remained ominously still. ‘Ben! Are you there?’

Tina whined again, pointing her nose at the mound with one paw half raised, as if indicating a piece of game they were hunting together.

Meriel spoke soothingly, not wanting the dog to start leaping around. Ben must be lying under the debris. There was no other explanation for Tina’s behaviour. ‘Yes, all right, girl. Stay there.
Stay!
Just give me a minute or two to check things over.’

Before she moved into the disaster area, she ran her eyes anxiously over the house. The part that had collapsed was an add-on at the back. The walls and roof of the main house looked sound enough and since most of the lean-to’s roof had already come down, she should be fairly safe if she moved slowly and carefully.

When had this happened and how long had Elless been lying there under the debris? Was he badly injured? He might be bleeding to death, for all she knew.

She didn’t let that panic her into doing something foolhardy, however. It’d do no one any good if she got hurt as well.

Very carefully, her heart pounding with anxiety, she began to pick her way through the clutter, pulling bits and pieces out of the way until she came close to where Tina was standing on a sloping piece of corrugated roof tin. There had been no more signs of collapse from the house behind her – nor had there been any more sounds from underneath the pile of rubbish.

He couldn't be dead. Someone so large and exuberantly alive couldn't possibly be dead! The thought was unbearable.

Tina barked and moved, causing a few small pieces of wood to slide sideways. She leaped away and when she reached solid ground, she stood still again, watching.,

Meriel studied the area where she thought Ben was trapped. One by one, she began to pull away the bigger pieces of lumber and roofing tin, working slowly and cautiously, with her ear cocked for any untoward noise that might presage another cave-in. She already had an escape route picked out and a rough pathway through the debris cleared.

Splinters lodged in her hands, dust rose up to choke her and the sun beat down mercilessly on her unprotected head and arms, but she didn't dare go for help until she had found Ben, in case he was bleeding.

Tina stayed near the edge of the pile, whining softly to herself and fretting to and fro.

What seemed like an eternity later, breathless and pouring with sweat from her exertions, Meriel uncovered Ben’s head and shoulders. She bent over him, breathing a sigh of relief as she verified that he was still alive, if unconscious. He had a nasty bruise and swelling on his forehead, though.

By the time she got his upper body clear of the chunks of wood and plasterboard from the inside walls, he had started to regain consciousness and was blinking up at her. ‘What are
you
doing here?’

He didn’t seem to realise the state he was in or the danger that still threatened if the rest of the house collapsed around them.

‘I'm trying to rescue you, Elless. Don't make any sudden moves.’

He stared at her groggily. ‘What?’

‘The back of your house caved in on top of you. I'm still not sure whether the rest of the building's safe, so lie still until I get this stuff off you.’

He took a ragged breath and looked round, his eyes slowing starting to focus better. ‘Hell! How did that happen?’

‘Don't you remember?’ She brushed some fragments of plasterboard and splinters of wood off his face and neck. He was very pale and there was a trail of dried blood down his left cheek from a small gash. ‘How are you feeling? Is there any pain? I don't want to try to move you if you've broken something.’

He sighed and closed his eyes for a minute. She thought he’d lost consciousness again until she saw that he was wiggling his fingers one by one, then his whole hands and arms. ‘Top half of me seems to be working,’ he said, his voice a husky thread.

‘Good. Rest for a minute, then try your legs.’

‘Mmm.’ He took a few breaths, then moved his right foot and leg. ‘That one's OK.’ He tried to move his left foot. ‘Ouch! That one hurts.’ He moved it again, more cautiously. ‘I don't think it's broken. I broke an arm once. That felt different. Much sharper pain.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, it hurts, so something’s wrong, but I'm pretty sure it's not broken.’

‘Right. Then we’ll try to move you.’

She knelt down and very carefully unlaced the sneaker on his left foot. As she slipped it off and tossed it across the pile of rubbish towards the dog, Ben groaned and she winced for him. ‘I'm sorry, but your foot's badly swollen. If we’d waited much longer, we'd have had to cut your sneaker off.’

‘Right. Thanks.’

Was he going to lose consciousness again? She tried to keep his attention. ‘Do you know how this accident happened? I mean, was there a gas explosion or something?’

‘No.’ His words were coming in bursts, as if it were an effort to speak. ‘I was up on the roof – fixing a sheet of tin that was loose before it blew away.’ He paused to lick his dry lips and frown at her then went on with his explanation.

‘Suddenly everything gave way. I remember starting to fall, then . . . I don't remember anything else until you turned up.’ He grunted as he moved his head unwarily. ‘What brought you over here, anyway? Last place I'd have expected to see
you.’

‘My dog came exploring. I was chasing her. And if you're going to insult me, I can always go away again.’ She didn’t mean that, of course.

‘Sorry. Don't go. Need your help.’ His eyes closed again and his words came in short bursts. ‘Head's throbbing. Can't think properly. Must have banged it.’