The House On Burra Burra Lane (29 page)

‘I don’t have a lawyer.’

‘You’ve had my lawyer since you were five weeks old—and he don’t know nothing about what we’re discussing today either. The land runs around the side of the house on Burra Burra Lane and across the back, with the MacLaughlin running through it.’ Grandy seemed particularly pleased about the river.

‘Your children and grandchildren won’t understand,’ Ethan insisted.

‘They don’t know about it. It’s in your name. My lawyer thinks I did it for Linnie, that I spent her money behind her husband’s back in order to keep her and her children safe. And that she continued to buy it up, using me as a kind of broker. It was done by the time she died. Situation suited everyone.’

‘It’s too much.’ As he said it, Ethan saw the land in his mind’s eye—the fields, the hilltop, the paddocks. He’d walked every inch in his youth. He’d learned how to cast a fly … ‘It’s the spot on the river where you taught me and Robert to fish.’

Grandy nodded but stayed silent, watching Ethan’s face.

In that instant so many life occurrences flipped through Ethan’s memory as though they’d been released. How Grandy, the town’s spokesperson and chairman, quietly manoeuvring people, sorting out disturbances, had always been around and looking over Ethan. ‘How did I get that bicycle?’ he asked, seeing the shiny blue and green bike, and reliving the flush of pride the day his mother brought it home.

Grandy smiled. ‘Linnie fought me about that one. She knew it would be hard for anyone, you included, to believe she’d saved for it since she’d been a year on her own without Thomas. I told her that was the answer—now that she was working for herself and he wasn’t drinking away her hard-earned money, she had some put aside. She went with it, in the end.’

‘I was nine,’ Ethan said. ‘I really wanted that bicycle. It was going to be my way out.’

‘It was, in a way. You took the paper round, then you started delivering messages and parcels between the farms. I was happy to see you picking up those odd jobs. I wanted you to be around decent men.’

‘I loved the freedom of working and earning for my family.’ Ethan paused then, made an effort to halt the memories flooding him of each time Grandy had helped out, somehow managing to do it whilst remaining in the background. ‘I messed it up though, after that,’ he admitted, thinking about Wesley Hawkins and the bike he’d stolen when he was sixteen, about breaking into Mrs J’s house with the chickens, and fighting with the men from the Bar & Grill. And more.

‘That time is long gone. Not worth discussing now, but there is something else you need to know.’ Grandy turned on the bench. ‘It was only the once, Linnie and I. Never again. We made sure of it.’

Ethan didn’t want to think about how his mother had found love and had had to let it go. He focussed instead on the long-term prospects and the newness of his life. Sammy. Children.
Their children
. What had he done to deserve this? Something good, somewhere.

He’d been given a gift. He’d pass it to Sammy. He’d get her back … if it took him a lifetime.

‘I had a scare when you sold up the house, like I say,’ Grandy said, ‘but when I saw your young lady I thought, let’s see how this works out.’ He turned to Ethan. ‘She’s right for you, and you’re right for her. I won’t stop saying that, and if it means I have to stand up and punch the sense into you, son, I will. She’s got the house and you’ve got the land. That’s what I call a union made in heaven.’

‘There’ll be talk.’

Grandy smiled, rested back against the the bench. ‘When isn’t there? Almost makes me wish I could be here to hear it.’

‘What makes you think you won’t be?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m almost eighty nine. Can’t guarantee anything.’

‘Would you have told me? If things hadn’t gone so wrong with Sammy?’

‘I’ve wrestled with that. Thought long and hard and listened to what was going on around me.’ He flipped his head back and gave Ethan an old-dog look. ‘There’s plenty going on around us that’s not of this world.’ He winked and nodded up at the sky. ‘I think I got a nudge from the other side. I’m at the age where I’m prepared to hear it. And I knew Sammy was taking off to the city, Julia told me. I knew that the town was talking about you and Sammy, and about Julia.’

Ethan cringed; the kid was his niece. Half-niece, but still— way too close for comfort. ‘Nothing happened there, absolutely nothing.’

‘I know that, settle yourself down, Ethan, you did nothing wrong. Julia will find her way, eventually.’

‘This is weird.’

‘Weird all right. I was waiting for you, this morning. Got out of my bed early to catch you. I knew it was today or never. Didn’t really think I’d have to tell you though. Imagined I was just going to push you around a bit, get you to the place you needed to be.’ Grandy looked at the street. ‘But it’s turned out as it should be. I love you, son. And I’m sorry no-one will know that.’

Ethan couldn’t speak for the lump in his throat.

‘I think Linnie might be pleased with me,’ Grandy mused, as though talking to himself. ‘If she’s looking down.’ He cleared his throat, grabbed his cane. ‘Might have some explaining to do to my lovely wife though, if she’s looking down.’

T
he full moon wove a glow through the sky like a mist over a lake, the stars just managing to poke a hole in the night.

The street lamps had lit up three hours ago, throwing circles of artificial light along the length of Main Street.

Ethan studied the Canberra to Eden bus as it made its way out of town—southern side. She hadn’t got off. She wasn’t on it. ‘That’s it,’ he said as he stood. ‘She’s in trouble, I know it.’ He fished in his pocket for his keys. ‘I should have gone to Sydney this afternoon.’

‘Might not come to that,’ Grandy said as a car pulled around the northern bend. A chrome-coloured hire car, expensive, shiny, with new plates.

Instinct pulled at Ethan’s abdomen. ‘She’s in that car.’

‘Could be,’ Grandy said. ‘City plates.’

Unease jabbed at Sammy’s skin like sharpened pins as Oliver pulled up across the street from the Bar & Grill. It was Friday night; she’d forgotten how many people came into town for dinner, or to end the week with a beer. She turned from the people outside Kookaburra’s, coming or going, chatting, telling tales about their week.

Oliver hadn’t asked her where she lived. Whatever his idea was for the evening, he hadn’t offered it, but she would not let him near her house. She wouldn’t be asking anyone for a lift home either. She’d walk.

‘All right, we’re here.’ She grabbed the holdall at her feet, on the floor of the passenger seat. ‘There’s a fabulous B&B at the beginning of Main Street. They’ll have a place for you, Oliver.’

He cut the engine, switched the headlights off and plunged them into a darker, more suffocating quiet than that of the last two and a half hour drive from Canberra.

‘A Bed & Breakfast?’ he enquired, a sneer in his tone.

Sammy straightened her jacket, then put her hat on, glad she’d brought it. It would hide her face as she walked beneath the street lamps and through the town. Once she got to the end of Main Street, she’d take her shoes off and walk in stockinged feet.
Damn
. No good. Her mother wouldn’t be able to walk that far.

She’d have to ask someone for a lift after all. The important thing was to get Verity out of the car and stop Oliver following them. ‘We’ll talk in the morning, Oliver, when we’re all rested.’ She opened her door.

He caught hold of her wrist as she swung her legs out of the car, the gold rectangles of his cufflinks glinting in the dulled interior. ‘Don’t be stupid, Samantha. I don’t intend to let you out of my sight. Where’s this house you bought?’

She shook his hand off, eyed him narrowly. ‘Not tonight. Tomorrow.’
Get Verity out, get her safe, then walk across to Kookaburra’s where there were people
. It was too solitary this side of the street. She got out of the car and opened the back passenger door. ‘Come on, Mother.’

Her mother stepped out awkwardly, as though her muscles had cramped during the journey.

‘That’s it, come on now.’ Sammy led Verity away from the car. ‘Goodnight, Oliver. We’ll see you tomorrow morning. I’ll come over to the B&B about nine o’clock.’

‘My suitcase,’ Verity said. ‘It’s in the boot.’

‘Forget it.’ Sammy pulled her mother along. ‘I’ve got everything you need.’

‘Samantha.’ Her mother stopped. ‘I need my bag.’

‘Mother, for God’s sake, just come with me. I want to get away from him.’

‘But my night things, I need my … ’

Too late. Oliver took hold of Sammy’s arm and swung her around. ‘You want to do this now, fine, let’s do it now.’

‘Let me go.’

He did, pushing his jacket aside and sliding his hands smoothly into his trouser pockets. Suave, except for the cold, calculating glare in his eyes. ‘I take it you’re trying to tell me that you don’t want my company this evening. Shame. You’re a beautiful woman, Samantha. I would have enjoyed spending the night with you.’

Sammy braced.

‘I think we should do as he suggests, Samantha. Let’s all go to this house you bought. I’m tired, I’ve had enough nonsense for one day.’

Oliver threw her mother a look. ‘Stay out of this, Verity. Unless you want me to drag you further into it.’ He turned to Sammy. ‘I want that paperwork.’

‘You’re not getting it.’

He stepped closer, withdrew his hands from his pockets. ‘I’m through with you. You can keep the money I gave your mother. I just want what you stole from me.’

‘No. It’s my insurance. You step one foot out of line, and I go to the police.’

‘It won’t prove a damn thing.’

‘Maybe not, but it’ll be hard for you, explaining it away.’

His mouth curled. ‘I put the money back,’ he said, voice low and tight as though he could hardly bear to speak the words.

‘And you just admitted that you took it. That’s more proof— should I need to call the police.’

‘Never took you for a bitch.’

She turned, took hold of her mother’s arm.

‘My bag … ’ Verity stumbled, but Sammy kept them moving.

‘You’ll regret this!’ Oliver called.

Sammy clenched her jaw as his voice boomed in the street but she didn’t look back. Whatever his intent was, he was going to humble her first, but she had no choice but to get to Kookaburra’s and people.

‘You’re a frigid bitch! A lot of men told me that before we got together. They were right. I had to force you to do many things, didn’t I, Samantha?’

Anger and shame clutched in her chest. She swivelled to him.
How dare he?
She dropped her mother’s arm and marched back to him. ‘You lying bastard.’ Any reputation she’d found in town had just been stripped from her.

‘You all right there, Sammy?’ someone called from the Bar & Grill.

‘She’s fine,’ Oliver answered, his shark smile broad and cocky. ‘Lover’s tiff. You know how difficult some women are about the bedroom stuff.’ He laughed, waved people back to wherever they were on their way to.

He took hold of Sammy’s arm as she reached him, gripped it hard and pulled her towards him. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the sex, but I did. Now get in the car. We’re getting out of here.’ He turned her, looked over his shoulder. ‘Get in the car, Verity, if you don’t want to be stranded here.’

‘That’s all it was,’ Sammy spat at him. ‘Sex.’

‘Whatever, honey. I liked it any which way. Sorry you didn’t feel the same.’

She attempted to break out of his grip. ‘Don’t get in the car, Mother. We’re leaving.’

‘Hey, what’s going on?’ another voice called from the Bar & Grill.

‘I can’t stand this anymore,’ Verity said, getting into the car.

‘Mother, get out.’ Sammy shook in Oliver’s hold.

‘Dolan!’

The low masculine voice resonated in the night, stifling whispers and murmurs from the group by the Bar & Grill into silence.

‘Get your hands off her.’

Oliver paused, looked across the street towards Morelly’s.

Sammy turned to the man who had spoken, her heartbeat thumping.

In the moonlight his shadow fell to one side of him along the walkway. His long swagman’s coat gave him the appearance of a bushranger from a barroom ballad. He was only missing a bowie knife, a revolver and leather gauntlet gloves. But it wasn’t his brigand height or the fighting breadth of him. It wasn’t the look of judgement that set the planes of his face to raw-boned that hitched her breath. It was the character of the man that sang across the street and rang in her ears. Images and imaginations were nothing compared to the flesh, blood and essence of the quiet man she couldn’t stop loving. ‘Ethan.’

‘What the hell is it to you?’ Oliver shouted.

How stupid to have thought a few hours away from him, his town and his world, would solder the decision she had made to stay in Swallow’s Fall. To fight it. To see it through. Stupid to think she could live her life while she stared Ethan down. Her house—
his
house—wouldn’t let her forget what she’d nearly had. The rafters would grumble and groan with each changing season, the roof would creak, and the front door would squeak louder each winter. Those noises would be her ghosts, her torment. There would be no other man for her but Ethan.

‘What sort of deadbeat town is this?’ Oliver asked.

She’d have to leave now … her third loss in a week. Her home. All the frustration and fury banked within her took a sharp dive to humiliation. Ethan had heard everything. The whole town had heard … she might have rebuilt her life after losing Ethan but Oliver had changed that. She’d never be able to hold her head up now that they knew about her. Couldn’t imagine looking at the innocent faces of the children she taught without knowing that the mothers were watching her, whispering about her and what Oliver might have done, what she might have allowed him to do.

‘Let me go, Oliver,’ she said quietly, stirring herself in the hold that had tightened.

‘Who is that guy?’ He shook her. ‘What is he to you?’

‘Everything … ’ her voice broke. ‘Let me go. Now. I don’t want this.’

Oliver grappled with her, dug his fingers into her arms so hard she cried out and dropped her holdall.