Silver in the Sun Read online

  ‘Does that mean that you don’t see yourself staying here for the long-term?’ asked Fiona.

  ‘Short- or long-term, I’d like to think I was able to help,’ Ian said evasively.

  ‘But surely Kanimbla already contributes a lot to the district. It employs several people and supports the only local businesses,’ Fiona pointed out.

  ‘But in the larger sense we’re not doing enough. The town is going downhill and I’d like to turn that around. Quite apart from what we discussed this morning, I’d like to see someone with medical knowledge take up residence here – perhaps a retired nurse or ambulance officer. We could offer them free rent. And if we could liven up the township, it would be easier to attract that sort of person,’ Ian said.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Fiona agreed. ‘When Mum was at home between her stays in hospital, I felt very nervous. I often wished there was a nurse I could call on for help. It would have been so reassuring … ’

  After lunch they sat quietly for a while looking out across the shade-dappled lawn. ‘I’d like to have a look at the river,’ Fiona said eventually. ‘Will you walk over with me?’

  He held the screen door open for her and she waited for him at the foot of the steps. In a gesture that surprised him, she took his hand and they walked across the lawn to where massive red gums lined the river. They stood side by side with their backs against the trunk of one giant gum that had probably been a fair-sized tree even long before white settlement. Fiona leant gently against Ian and her hair brushed his neck.

  ‘It’s been a lovely morning, Ian,’ she said, kissing his cheek and leaving her face resting against his. Her heart beat fast as she felt his skin against hers. She desperately wanted him to respond, but he simply stood there for a few moments, as if engaged in some internal struggle. Eventually he turned to face her, leaning gently in to kiss her. Fiona closed her eyes and felt herself melting at his touch, wanting the kiss to go on forever, but then suddenly he pulled away and looked towards the river. She felt stunned and embarrassed, and then angry – she could have shaken him. At boarding school she’d been led to believe that boys were never backward where girls were concerned – that they generally came on too strongly, if anything. But here he was sending her mixed messages. Ian turned back to her, touched her arm and pointed up the river.

  ‘See there? It’s a brown duck and her ducklings. I wonder where she sat to bring them out.’

  At that moment, the last thing Fiona was interested in looking at was a clutch of ducklings! She told herself to calm down. Perhaps he was just nervous. She folded her arms, ‘Well, I’d better be getting back to Nelanji.’

  Soon after, Fiona drove away from Kanimbla confused. What did that kiss mean? Ian had paid her lovely compliments and sought her opinions on an important project, but did he regard her as nothing more than a friend? Or was he hiding his true feelings? She was no closer to understanding this enigmatic young man.

  Chapter Fourteen

  On the eastern side of the great Kanimbla homestead there was a landing field for light aircraft. Jack Richardson had been a pilot and had had two strips laid with bitumen (one east–west and the other north–south), so that the field could be used in virtually all weathers.

  From the air, something important was clearly taking place at Kanimbla this October day. There were eight light planes spaced along one side of the landing field, as well as scores of vehicles parked at the homestead and more converging on the front gate along the main road. A casual observer might have guessed that it was either a field day or a clearing sale, but it was neither. In fact it was the first official engagement held by the property’s new owner. The event was particularly significant for some of the guests because not only was Ian Richardson a very young man, but he was also unmarried. This made him, arguably, one of the most eligible bachelors in the Queensland pastoral industry.

  Invitations had been sent some time before, and had been received with excitement. Jack Richardson had a reputation for holding the best parties in the district and everyone was keen to know whether Ian would uphold this tradition.

  There had been an awkward situation concerning the property’s employees and who should attend. Judy Blake was the hostess, of course, and Jim and Karen Landers would be there, since Jim was overseer and stud manager. The Belted Trio, Peter, Ted and Gerald, had been instructed to meet the planes and ferry the guests from the landing field to the homestead. Most of the rest of the staff were enjoying a case of beer, courtesy of Ian, at the shearers’ quarters tonight, and looking forward to their own celebration (Ian had promised a special barbecue by the new staff pool). Rhona Blake had declined her invitation. She’d met a new man, Graeme, and in the throes of early romance, was unwilling to leave him for the weekend.

  According to the elegant but simple invitation, dress was casual – though Judy had warned Ian that this wouldn’t stop some of the girls and women from dressing up, as they didn’t often get the chance. ‘They’ll be out to impress you,’ she’d said. The invitation also announced that drinks and hors d’oeuvres would be served from five-thirty, with dinner at seven. Those who wished to swim in the pool could do so. Staff would also be available from three o’clock for anyone interested in an inspection of shedded rams.

  By five-thirty there were probably a hundred and fifty people on Kanimbla’s verandah and front lawn, and perhaps a score of young people in the pool, making the most of the warm afternoon. The girls’ attire ranged from modest one-piece costumes to skimpy bikinis. Ted and Gerald, in between meeting planes, could only look on and wish they were in the pool too.

  When Fiona arrived with her father, Ian was struck by her composure. He’d never seen her in anything but jeans, but this evening she wore a stunning black dress. In heels, she was almost as tall as Lachie, and as she stood with her shoulders back, Ian couldn’t help noticing her long, elegant neck. She’d dressed so well that she wasn’t outshone by any of the other women at the party – some of them very experienced party-goers.

  Fiona felt proud to be accompanying her father to Ian’s reception, and she knew that her father was proud of her too. He’d been delighted when she’d been elected school captain at the start of her final year. He knew that she was well mannered, like her mother had been, and that she attracted admiring glances. She was handy on the property and ran the homestead well. Lachie had appreciated her practical skills and her care for him even more since his wife’s death.

  ‘Welcome!’ Ian said. ‘It’s lovely to see you both,’ he shook hands with her father, then leant over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘You look exceptionally nice tonight,’ Ian whispered in her ear. ‘Elegant, in fact.’

  Fiona felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach. ‘Thank you,’ she said with a radiant smile. ‘It’s going to be a great party.’

  ‘I think you could guarantee that,’ Lachie agreed.

  ‘I’ll talk to you again soon,’ Ian promised. Fiona hoped it would be very soon.

  The early evening hummed along nicely with a lot of animated conversation fuelled by a steady intake of liquid refreshments. About six-thirty, there was a stir as the Claydons arrived. Trish never appeared at a function until it was well underway. She liked to make a big impression and knew that other wives would be on tenterhooks, wondering whether she’d be there. Trish knew that many of them despised her flirtatiousness and her outrageously provocative clothing, but she didn’t mind. She got enormous satisfaction from the fact that she’d known some of their husbands intimately and they didn’t have a clue. Men wouldn’t wander if they’d been looked after satisfactorily at home, she thought. But in reality, she was more selective in her lovers than rumour suggested. She liked sex but she sought partners who could elevate the experience beyond the commonplace.

  This evening, Trish was flanked by her two daughters, Cyd and Maureen. Alec brought up the rear because he stopped so often to greet people. He was a friendly fellow, if a bit rough around the edges, and there were a lot of people who felt ge
nuinely sorry for him, stuck with Trish.

  At eighteen, Cyd, a blue-eyed blonde, was a younger version of her mother. She was wearing a sparkling, slinky dress that revealed her long, tanned legs. She looked rather out of place among the more conservatively dressed guests, but didn’t seem to notice. Maureen, Cyd’s younger sister by a year, was dressed in a tasteful pair of pale blue pants and a white blouse.

  ‘Now that you’ve settled in, you must come and see us, Ian,’ Trish said. ‘Sometimes the girls and I go away for the holidays – Bali or somewhere – but this time we’re all staying home.’ Ian tried to avoid looking at the plunging valley that was Trish’s cleavage.

  ‘Yes, you must,’ Cyd echoed. ‘We have a pool too.’

  ‘Are you still at school, Cyd?’ Ian asked.

  ‘This is my final term,’ Cyd answered. She thought Ian was too good to be true. Imagine having a boy like him next door!

  ‘And you, Maureen?’ he asked.

  ‘I have another year to go,’ Maureen said.

  ‘Do you have any idea what you’ll do after school?’ he asked Maureen. She seemed to him to be a very nice girl whereas Cyd was obviously a flirt.

  ‘I think I might do vet science,’ Maureen said.

  ‘That’s a very worthwhile profession. It opens up a lot of avenues,’ Ian said.

  By the time Alec reached him, the three Claydon women had merged into the throng. ‘Nice to see you again, Mr Claydon,’ Ian smiled.

  ‘You’re a dark horse, young fellow,’ Alec said, referring to Ian’s failure to disclose his identity on his first day in Murrawee. He crushed Ian’s hand in his iron grip.

  ‘Well I wouldn’t want to give away all my secrets at once now would I?’ Ian laughed.

  Ian made a short speech just before dinner was served. The speech was remarkable not for what he said but for what he didn’t. He praised Blake’s management both before and after his uncle’s death and said how fortunate he was to have such a fine overseer as Jim Landers. He said he had a great staff, which made for good management. About himself, he said virtually nothing. In closing, he said that since coming to Australia, he’d recognised how important it was to have good neighbours, and that neighbours needed to work together in good times and bad. He hoped that Kanimbla would always be regarded as a good neighbour.

  The guests weren’t quite sure what to make of Ian’s words, but most of them had already formed their own opinion of Kanimbla’s new owner anyway. Some of the tough older western graziers reckoned that Ian would be too soft for Queensland conditions, while most of the women, young and not so young, thought he was ‘just lovely’.

  It was at this party that Ian first met Joe Barker, one of the most affluent graziers in western Queensland, and a National Party supporter and benefactor. Joe was a wide-shouldered, stocky man with a broad face, blue eyes and iron-grey hair. Somehow he never seemed well dressed, despite the quality of his clothing, and this may have had something to do with his build.

  ‘I called in to see you a couple of days ago, but you were out,’ Joe said when Lachie introduced him to Ian. ‘I’m often in the neighbourhood.’

  ‘Joe is quite partial to Fiona’s baking,’ Lachie said with a smile. ‘He liked Maisie’s too.’

  ‘I hope you enjoy the food this evening,’ said Ian.

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ said Joe.

  The hired chef had prepared a delicious buffet including coral trout, barramundi and marinated prawns. There was also a magnificent ham, thick steaks of grain-fed beef, and salads galore. Later, guests chose strawberry cheesecake, Pavlova or fruit salad and ice-cream for dessert. And the drinks continued to flow.

  There were tables and chairs scattered casually about the gardens and around the pool. The only exception was a table near the verandah where Ian sat with the Blakes, Jim and Karen Landers (with Billy on her knee), and Lachie and Fiona McDonald. Judy had whispered to Lachie that Ian would like him and Fiona to sit at his table. Fiona had been delighted. The truth was that, of all the non-Kanimbla people Ian had met, he felt most at home with the McDonalds.

  Fiona didn’t get much of a chance to talk to Ian over dinner, as he was preoccupied with making sure all his guests were being looked after, but it was enough for her to be sitting at the table and to be able to catch his eye now and again.

  As the evening closed in, Kanimbla’s gardens seemed to soften and the air was filled with the fragrance of roses, hakeas and grevilleas. At dusk, the area around the pool and front verandah was suddenly transformed by myriad tiny white lights, and the word ‘WELCOME’ hung in coloured lights between two sugar gums. There was a brief burst of clapping in appreciation of the garden’s metamorphosis. Ian watched as Billy Landers’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

  ‘How fantastic, Ian,’ Fiona said and flashed him a quick smile. He smiled back. Fiona, emboldened by a glass of champagne, had then slipped her arm through Ian’s as they watched Billy dancing around happily.

  ‘Stay away from the edge, darling,’ Karen cautioned, and took her little son by the hand. ‘Come on, sweetie. It’s long past your bedtime.’

  Just after Karen left, there was a kerfuffle at the pool. Cyd, who’d consumed far too much wine, had become giddy, over-balanced and fallen into the deep end. Gerald Bradshaw had immediately dived in and brought her to the surface. Coughing and sick, her sparkling gown sodden and her make-up smudged, she looked very sorry for herself.

  ‘Take her in to Mrs Heatley,’ Ian said quietly to Alec, who picked up his sodden daughter and carried her into the homestead. Trish’s only comment was that Cyd would have to ‘learn how to handle her drinks’.

  Later, Ian had a quick word with Fiona just as she was preparing to leave. ‘You were the belle of the night, Fiona,’ he said with a smile. ‘I hope you enjoyed yourself.’

  ‘Oh, yes. The food was great. Apart from Cyd’s dive into the pool, I’m sure everyone had a lovely time,’ she said.

  Just after one o’clock, Ian stood with Leo and Judy and watched the lights of the last vehicle recede down the road. Those who were not leaving until the morning, which included the airborne division, had been found beds throughout the homestead.

  ‘Do you think it was a good night?’ Ian asked.

  ‘I’d say it was a great success, Ian; a terrific night,’ Leo said. ‘I’d better go and talk to Peter and the boys before they push off. They did a great job. Gerald’s rescue was beyond the call of duty.’

  ‘I’d echo that,’ Ian said. He stood with Judy Blake and watched his manager walk away. ‘I haven’t had the chance to tell you how nice you look,’ he said to Judy, who did look splendid in a long wine-red dress that perfectly complemented her dark hair and lovely brown eyes.

  ‘Thank you. I shall never forget this night,’ Judy said.

  Ian smiled gently, ‘No, thank you for being my hostess and for your understanding. You’re a very sweet lady, Mrs B.’

  He was really still only a boy, she thought.

  When his guests had all departed the next morning and the last of the planes was a speck in the sky, Ian walked his last guest, who was also a client, Finlay Urquhart, to the ram shed. Jim Landers was waiting for them and looked none the worse for his late night.

  ‘How did you pull up, Fin?’ Landers asked Urquhart. The two men got on very well.

  ‘No problem,’ Urquhart said with a grin. He was fifty or so, but looked much older because his hair was very grey. Urquhart had worked himself into the ground to own the properties he now controlled and was Kanimbla’s most important ram client. Lean and shrewd, Urquhart was a very wealthy man, but money hadn’t made any difference to the way he treated people. He was straight-from-the-shoulder and his handshake was as good as a signed contract. Some would say that he was one of the last of his kind. Urquhart was a sheep man first and foremost. When the long dip in wool prices had caused many other sheep producers to switch to cattle, Urquhart stuck to sheep. He culled his flocks heavily and sought to improve the cut and quality of h
is wool. He’d stayed with the type of wool that he knew from experience he could grow profitably. This was from a long stapled, reasonably dense medium-wool sheep – sixty-fours as it used to be called or twenty-one to twenty-two microns in the newer language – of good size and constitution. What Urquhart wanted now was rams with richly crimped white wool and he didn’t like too much skin on his sheep. He liked a ram to have a fair front, two or three folds maybe, but he didn’t like them overdone.

  It was Jim Landers’s job to know what Kanimbla’s ram clients were looking for, and on this occasion he had drafted off two big pens of the best of the sale rams (after Kanimbla had set aside its own selection). Jim’s judgement was spot on. Urquhart couldn’t find a ram he didn’t like and soon handed his cheque to Leo.

  ‘So you’re going to stay with merinos?’ Ian asked.

  ‘Yeah, I’m staying with them unless the market collapses completely. I’m trying to breed the best sheep and the best wool I can and keeping a close eye on costs. And I’ll say this to you. If you keep breeding rams of the quality you’ve got here, you should be able to sell them. You might not sell as many, but I’d hate to see you go out of ram breeding altogether. It’s taken a fair while to get where you are now. You might need to show them interstate to give yourselves a bigger name, but with sheep of this standard you wouldn’t be disgraced anywhere.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ian felt a mental lift hearing such a positive assessment of Kanimbla’s rams.

  That night, after Ian finally fell into bed, a memory came back to him. It was something he had witnessed in Africa only a couple of nights before his father and mother were killed. He and his parents were sleeping in the same tent. The moonlight illuminated the tent, and through the mosquito net tucked tightly around his bed he could see his parents moving quietly on their bed. They were naked, and he could see the outline of his mother’s breasts before his father covered them with his body. Presently, through his sleepiness, he heard strange sounds coming from the bed, but they were not unpleasant. Then there was a shhh and a giggle from his mother and silence. Through the gap in the opening of the tent he could see one of the camp fires still burning and away in the distance he heard lions roaring.