Riding the Storm (6 page)

I
T LOOKED AS
if Joanne’s funeral would be poorly attended. The little town was still reeling from the devastation left in the wake of the cyclone. Many local people were crowded in with relatives and friends as their own homes had been damaged or destroyed. Among this number was Ryan, who now had to deal with much more than the loss of his mother. The roof had been torn off the house, leaving it exposed to the elements, and his once flourishing market garden had been reduced to a mess of broken plants and mud, his livelihood gone. And, worst of all, Sprite appeared to have taken fright and run away.

Aside from the money Robert had paid for Tommy and which Ryan was trying to leave untouched, there was just enough left from their dwindling resources to pay for Joanne’s funeral. Needing to find a positive somewhere, he allowed himself to hope that after all the misery he had suffered, as well as the loss of his parents, Robert might now relent sufficiently to let him buy the horse back. Slim as it was, he had to believe in this possibility or the future looked bleak indeed.

Rebuilding the house was another matter entirely. Had Joanne survived, he would have been obliged to forget about
Tommy and spend whatever money they had on repairing their home. It was no surprise to find that his parents had no household or building insurance to cover these needs. Concerned only with the well-being of his horses and uninterested in practical matters or keeping proper accounts, Peter had allowed the household policies to lapse. In any case, there were usually clauses somewhere in the fine print to protect the company against ‘natural disasters’ such as this. Acts of God, they liked to call them – more like Acts of the Devil, Ryan thought.

On top of everything else, he had the added heartbreak of losing Sprite. Although the solid brick stable block had survived the storm, all the doors had been blown off their hinges and the terrified horse had run off. Following advice he had gleaned from the internet, he had hung a strap with his mobile phone number and address around the horse’s neck but after several days of fruitless enquiries, he had been forced to give up hope. In any case, without the means to recharge it, his mobile had turned itself off. He needed to find someone with power to get it started again.

It occurred to him that he had no one but himself to think about now and experienced a measure of guilty relief about this.

Mike’s father invited him to come and stay while he made up his mind what to do. Glen Harrison had turned up as soon as the roads were clear, finding Ryan in the process of moving what he could salvage into the empty stable block to create a makeshift home for himself.

Glen stared around, appalled by the thought of anyone attempting to carry on under such conditions.

‘You can’t possibly live out here, lad, it’s quite primitive. You’ll catch your death.’

‘I can’t leave, Mr Harrison. Sprite has been missing since the night of the storm and I have to wait and see if she can make her way back.’

‘Ah.’ Mike’s father stared at the ground for a moment, knowing he was about to heap more bad news on a lad who had already suffered enough. ‘We found the bodies of several horses caught in the river; it was moving too rapidly for them to swim and they must have drowned.’

‘That’s OK. If there was more than one horse, it wouldn’t be Sprite. She was alone.’

‘No.’ Glen hesitated before going on. ‘It was almost washed out but the remains of your notice was still tied around her neck, caught in the debris. We could see she was a thoroughbred rather than an ordinary pony but they had to bury her along with the others – it couldn’t wait.’

This last news was too much for Ryan, who broke into painful, gasping tears. ‘S-sorry,’ he said, fighting to gain control as the older man awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. ‘But – but, poor Sprite – after everything else – it’s too much.’ He had to stop, his throat tightening with renewed grief.

‘Ryan, I know you can’t think past your mother’s funeral but in the short term you’re coming to stay with us. I know Mike would want us to look after you.’

‘It’s good of you, Mr Harrison, but I’ll stay here. I’d rather not be a burden to anyone.’ Really, Ryan wanted to stay where he was, retaining his independence and making his own decisions. He didn’t want to be ‘taken over’ by Mike’s father.

‘You won’t be a burden. You’ll be most welcome.’

‘But what about Mrs – um – she might not like it?’

‘Don’t you worry about Fiona – I’ll square things with her.’ Glen clapped the young man on the shoulder, heartily enough to make him wince. ‘Go on. Pick up a few essentials and come with me now.’

‘I don’t have much to bring – only Tinka, Mum’s little dog. Bit miserable, I’m afraid, as she doesn’t know what’s happening. She was very much Mum’s dog.’

‘Fiona’s marvellous with dogs. She’ll take care of it.’

Ryan attempted a smile, wondering if Fiona would mind living up to all these promises being made on her behalf. He didn’t have to wonder for long.

On arrival at the Harrisons’ place, he could see they’d been lucky. Somehow Glen’s property had been spared the worst of the storm. A couple of pool boys were already scooping the leaves and debris from the pool and hosing down the loungers which had been tossed around by the storm. A team of gardeners had been employed to clear up the wreckage, setting the flower beds to rights. Inside, the house was very much as Ryan remembered it; he could see no evidence of storm damage. Since the property had its own generator in case of emergency, they had suffered no loss of facilities at all.

They came in to the family room to find Fiona in the midst of a conversation on her mobile phone. She waved briefly to Glen and gave him a tight smile before she continued.

‘Yes, I do see where you’re coming from, Mr Mayor. Glen does have a home largely untouched by storm damage. And you should know we’re doing our bit. We’ve already taken in
the Lanigan boy so there’s no way we can take in any more orphans of the storm.’

Ryan experienced a flash of annoyance that she was making him the excuse for not accommodating anyone else. On top of that, she spoke of him as if he were a helpless child when, in fact, he had taken care of his mother since his father died and, if Mike’s father hadn’t insisted, he would much rather have stayed at home.

She listened to what the mayor was saying and Ryan could see she was becoming irritated, two spots of colour appearing high on her cheekbones. ‘Yes, indeed. We might well have enough room and beds to accommodate six more people but we just don’t have the facilities or the manpower to look after them. Selfishness doesn’t come into it.’

The mayor must have had a lot more to say on the subject of selfishness but Fiona withdrew from the conversation, cutting him short. ‘I’m sorry but things are extremely hectic here at present. Trust me. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can offer you something more.’

The mayor wasn’t prepared to let it go at that; Fiona’s dark eyes flashed and her nostrils flared as she listened to further criticism. To Ryan, she seemed a dragon lady indeed.

‘I said I’ll get back to you.’ She ground out the words. ‘And I’m not in the habit of lying.’ Her expression softened as she caught sight of Tinka, who was cringing in Ryan’s arms, daunted to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings.

‘Oh, what a sweet little dog. Come to me, darling.’ She held out her hands as Tinka scrabbled to reach her. ‘And what’s your name?’

‘It’s Tinka,’ Ryan murmured, irritated that the little dog
should transfer her affections so easily. ‘She was my mother’s dog.’

‘Poor sweetheart.’ Fiona dropped a kiss on her head, receiving a good licking in return. It occurred to Ryan that Fiona had far more compassion for this little bereaved animal than for any human being left destitute after the storm.

He knew it was unwise to make snap judgements but he disliked the woman intensely, although he had not met her before. Dressed in tennis clothes that showed off her elegant, spray-tanned legs and well-toned body, she looked as if she had suffered no hardship from the storm. Her glamour was stranded in the late eighties with a mane of brittle, blonde hair teased out of existence and heavily lacquered to keep it in place. She wore a luminous pink lipstick that might have flattered her as a teenager but now only emphasized her thin lips and her eyelids were painted a startling, electric blue, the sparse lashes liberally coated with mascara to match.

Glen Harrison took just a moment to introduce them and made himself scarce, going outside to confer with his gardeners.

‘You should know it wasn’t my idea to come here,’ Ryan said at once, folding his arms. ‘I was perfectly all right where I was.’

‘Glen didn’t think so,’ she said shortly. ‘In any case, you won’t be here for long. You should be with family at a time like this. I told Mike to get in touch with your people down south.’

‘No!’ This came out as a wail of anguish. ‘You should have asked me first. I don’t get on with my family down south.’

‘Now isn’t the time to hold on to petty disagreements,’ Fiona said, dismissing his argument as she fondled the little
dog’s ears. ‘In any case, the dynamic has changed down there. Your uncle had some sort of road accident and he’s in a wheelchair now.’

‘A wheelchair?’ Ryan echoed, stunned by this news.

‘Yes, well. They can probably do with your help. Your aunt insists on coming up for your mother’s funeral so I’ve told her she’ll be very welcome to stay here.’

‘Is that so?’ The words fell out before Ryan could stop them. ‘You’re a piece of work, aren’t you? Got it all sorted without asking anyone.’

‘I wasn’t an office manager for nothing.’ Fiona smiled thinly, taking this as a compliment as she patted her helmet of hair. ‘A problem solver from way back.’

‘And who the hell asked you to solve my problems?’ Finally, Ryan lost his temper; the woman’s smug satisfaction was too much to bear.

Glen returned in time to catch this last exchange.

‘That’s a bit much, Ryan,’ he said. ‘Fiona’s only trying to help.’

‘Sure. The way she’s helping the mayor accommodate the poor, homeless people of Canesville.’

Fiona spoke softly and reasonably, making him seem even more like a bully and a boor. ‘Really, Ryan. We can’t have Glen’s lovely home turned into a bear garden, can we?’

‘I think you should both calm down.’ Glen made a placating movement with both hands. ‘Ryan has lost everything and is understandably upset. And you, Fiona – you need to cut him some slack.’

Ryan said nothing but he made his attitude clear by reclaiming Tinka, who sprang into his embrace, grateful to
get away from Fiona’s cloying perfume that was making her sneeze. But Fiona was determined to have the last word as she headed for the door.

‘I do hope that dog’s house-trained. There’s an old kennel outside she can live in, if not.’

‘Take no notice of Fee,’ Glen said when she was gone. ‘Her bark is a whole lot worse than her bite.’

Ryan disagreed but he couldn’t say so. His mind was racing as he considered this piece of news Fiona had dropped on him so casually. Robert Lanigan was facing life in a wheelchair. What did that mean? Was this a temporary setback or was he permanently crippled? He found he was actually looking forward to his aunt’s arrival to find out. He could only hope that, as a woman of the same generation, she wouldn’t be anything like Fiona.

She wasn’t. Valerie Lanigan wore little make-up and was dressed in casual trousers and practical, everyday clothes. She struck him immediately as a warm-hearted, motherly person and, best of all, she was not in the least like Fiona.

As his own elderly ute had fallen victim to the storm, Glen allowed him to borrow a car to fetch her from the airport at Cairns. He also thought it would be a good opportunity for them to get to know one another before the funeral and without interference from anyone else.

He held up a notice, scanning the crowd from the newly arrived plane bringing those who had come to rescue relatives or help clean up the storm damage. He identified her almost at once – a plump woman in her late forties, looking small and shy as if she wasn’t accustomed to travelling alone. She
smiled with relief when she saw him, dropping her travelling bag to enfold him in a warm embrace.

‘You must be Ryan,’ she said simply. ‘I’d know you anywhere – you look just like your mother.’

This unexpected kindness brought tears to Ryan’s eyes and he gasped, holding them in.

‘Oh, my dear, I’m so clumsy. I shouldn’t have said that.’ Valerie hugged him again. ‘The last thing I want to do is upset you.’

‘It’s OK. I should say “Welcome to Queensland” but there isn’t much to welcome you to just now,’ Ryan managed to say through the tightness in his throat.

He settled Valerie in the front seat and they drove north. She wasn’t a chatterbox but from time to time she exclaimed at the devastation left by the storm – mile after mile of cane fields lying steaming and rotting under the sun and banana plantations flattened to the ground.

‘I had no idea,’ she said. ‘We saw newsreels and pictures on television but nobody realized it was as bad as this. Can they recover?’

‘Probably,’ Ryan said. ‘Tropical plants grow up quickly and we’re a tough breed up here.’

‘I wasn’t going to talk to you about making plans right away but I feel differently now that I’m here. I came first of all to support you through the funeral. But I’m hoping you’ll see your way clear to coming down south and making a home with us.’

‘That’s very kind, Aunt Val – but I really don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Just call me Val – everyone does.’

‘Look, I don’t want to be rude or throw your kindness back in your face but I can’t do that. I can’t live in the same house as your husband when he took advantage of my mother’s naivety, tricking her into selling him my father’s best horse.’

‘Yes, I know. I did hear something about that—’

‘It’s not an easy thing for me to set aside and forget. And just by being there, I’d be a constant thorn in your husband’s side.’