William giggled and twisted up his napkin, tossing it onto the floor. “Red as a beetroot,” he parroted. “I hate beetroot!”
“Now you two,” warned Angela. “That’s no way to behave. Apologize to Caitlin.”
Elizabeth looked mutinous.
“No, don’t worry about that now, Angela,” Caitlin said, hastily. “I’d love that cup of tea. I declare, I’m as dry as a pharaoh’s tomb.”
“What’s a faro’s toom?” asked William.
“Have you heard of the pyramids in Egypt?” she asked him, gratefully accepting the cup of tea Angela placed before her.
“Tell me.”
“Pharaoh’s were kings a long, long time ago. When they died, their people buried them in tombs beneath the pyramids. Pyramids are shaped like this.” She drew an outline on the tablecloth with a fork. “They’re strange and mysterious. I’ll show you a picture of them, perhaps tomorrow, okay?”
“Our mother died,” said Elizabeth, in a conversational tone.
“Oh, yes, I know. I’m so sorry.” Caitlin silently cursed her clumsiness.
“I can’t remember her very well, but Daddy says she was pretty. She didn’t have freckles.” Elizabeth left her seat and came close to Caitlin, peering into her face. “You’ve got freckles too. Like me.” Her sweet child’s breath touched Caitlin’s cheek.
“I like my freckles,” Caitlin said, resisting the urge to hug her. “I’ll have to wear a big hat and keep out of the sun because I burn easily.”
“Daddy doesn’t like freckles.” Elizabeth looked as if she might cry.
“Oh, I’m sure he likes yours.”
“No. He gets cross when I get burned, but I forget.”
“Perhaps we can help each other remember.”
Angela winked at her. “Now if you’ve finished your tea, Caitlin, I’ll show you your room.”
The bedroom opened onto the verandah.
“You’ll have that door open most nights.” Angela pointed up to the high ceiling where a fan slowly rotated. “It’s hard to get a breeze out of that this time of year.”
Someone had taken great care with the room. The walls were papered in yellow wallpaper with a frieze of violets round the top. The bed had a white, wrought-iron bed head and a dainty, patchwork bedspread like one Caitlin’s mother once had. A mosquito net hung above the bed by a hook. Freshly picked, white roses spilled out from a vase on the old cedar dresser, dropping petals. A hook rug in cool greens that might have been homemade covered the bare boards. In front of the fireplace was a wooden rocker with a yellow cushion.
“This is lovely,” Caitlin said, surprised. “Thank you for the roses.”
“Not my doing,” Angela replied. “Bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll leave you to get settled.”
Left alone, Caitlin sat down and rocked for a few minutes. Apart from a few birdcalls outside and the muffled sounds of the children from the kitchen, it was very quiet. She took a deep breath. She’d been so afraid this mad escape to the other side of the world would be a failure. She let her breath out slowly, and felt her tense muscles begin to unwind.
* * * *
The next morning at breakfast there was still no sign of Jake Monterey. Caitlin and the children ate their bacon, eggs and sausage. She’d asked for cereal, but Angela insisted that everyone should eat a good solid breakfast to set them up for the day. Caitlin decided to deal with that later and told the children what their daily routine would be.
Elizabeth’s bottom lip stuck out. “We ride our ponies every day, for hours.”
“And I’m allowed to jump my pony. Daddy set up a jump out in the paddock,” William said.
Caitlin poured milk into her tea. “You are both so clever to be able to ride. I wish I could.”
“Can’t you ride at all?” Elizabeth’s eyes were scornful.
“Now, Missy, don’t you be so rude. Eat your breakfast.” Angela muttered, “She doesn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.”
Elizabeth pushed her plate away, barely touched.
Caitlin rose to take her plate to the sink. “I’m planning to learn to ride and then I might ride with you.”
“I could teach you how to jump,” William said, jumping up and down on his chair.
“How nice of you to offer,” Caitlin said. “Of course you can ride, every day after afternoon lessons. But you shall not jump your pony, William, until your father returns and gives his permission.”
Both children looked at her as they took this in, and the moment passed without argument.
She felt it went well until she saw the expression on Elizabeth’s face. One you’d find on an ailing eighty-year-old. It sent a cold shaft of unease straight to Caitlin’s heart.
Chapter Two
Five days passed and still no a sign of the children’s father. Caitlin introduced her routine: breakfast, lessons, lunch, and lessons again until afternoon tea, then fresh air and exercise, which meant a walk for her while the children gamboled about on their ponies, dinner, listening to the radio or reading for an hour, bath, supper, followed by prayers, then bed. There was television that a satellite disk on the roof supplied, but she thought she’d wait for their father before she allowed it. For the first few days, the children grumbled at spending so much time indoors at lessons, but they didn’t rebel, although Elizabeth remained uncommunicative and suspicious of her. Only once when Caitlin asked her to write a sentence on the blackboard, did she show any real emotion. “You’re not the boss of me,” she said, her lip trembling. “You’re not my mother.”
Caitlin pulled her gently down on the seat beside her. “Did your mother teach you your lessons?”
She nodded.
“And did she paint some of those lovely pictures hanging on the walls?” She’d seen Caroline’s name on some of the flower paintings.
“Yes, I think so,” Elizabeth said, rubbing her eyes.
“She was very clever, wasn’t she? Now I’m here to help take care of you and William and to teach you your school work. But I’m not here to take your mother’s place. She was special.”
Caitlin didn’t sleep well. She lay with an arm thrown over her head watching the moon climb high in a star-lit sky through the break in the curtains. She couldn’t yet lay her grim past to rest. She was still flinching at shadows. It made her anxious that she couldn’t identify the foreign noises beyond the window. She was dozing when she heard a child cry out. Elizabeth’s room was next to hers. She pulled on her gown and went to the girl’s door, wondering if she was just having a nightmare. She peeped in and could just make out the small form in the bed. It was light enough to see Elizabeth’s shoulders shaking. Caitlin came to the bed and turned on the lamp.
Sitting on the side of the bed, she stroked the little girl’s hair. “What’s the matter, Elizabeth? Did you have a bad dream?”
“I want my Daddy,” she said in a small voice.
“He’s coming home soon, sweetheart.”
“I want him
now
!”
Caitlin sat with Elizabeth, continuing to stroke her hair, until she cried herself to sleep. Then she tiptoed out, fuming. She would have plenty to say to Jake Monterey when he finally decided to come home.
* * * *
They’d just finished lessons on the Friday afternoon when a roar sounded overhead. The children ran outside with Caitlin close behind them, as a small single-engine plane disappeared over the house, flying low.
“It’s Daddy,” Elizabeth and William cried, dancing about.
Caitlin suddenly felt nervous. She had never met her employer—not even spoken to him on the phone. Everything had been arranged through an agency. Now she was to share a house with him. She’d have to give up sitting on the verandah at night in her nightgown, her feet tucked under her, listening to the cacophony of strange bird and animal sounds emerging from the dark.
Before he arrived at the house, she raced into her bedroom and checked her appearance in the wardrobe mirror. She’d resorted to shorts and a tank top with sandals out of necessity. She wondered if she should change into something more business-like, then decided against it. Start as you mean to go on, her mother always said. She ran a brush through her hair and tied it back, adding a spot of lip gloss and a dab of sage-green eye shadow. Despite her efforts, freckles marched across her nose and cheeks. She shrugged and went to join the children on the front verandah.
A Jeep appeared out of the bush and crunched its way around the gravel drive, pulling up at the front door. A man and a woman climbed out.
Caitlin had expected Jake Monterey to be close to forty, but this man was no more than thirty, a grown-up version of William. His dark hair was quite long, curling over his collar. He was better dressed than she imagined a cattleman to be. The jeans that encased his long, lean thighs were not the kick-around variety, and he carried a tan leather jacket, thrown over his shoulder. The woman accompanying him was small and had short blonde hair. She was dressed in pale blue jeans tailored to her figure and wore impossibly high-heeled sandals on her tiny feet. As they approached the steps, she struggled to keep her balance on the rough ground.
An urban creature, Caitlin decided. Well, so was she—but anyone can change. She watched as the woman picked her way cautiously over the gravel, clutching Jake’s arm for support.
The children broke away from Caitlin and rushed down the steps to grab their father around his legs. Miss High-heels gave a squeak of protest.
“Careful kids,” Jake said in response. They stopped as if pulled back by some invisible wire and fell behind, as the pair made their way up the verandah steps seemingly joined at the hip. Caitlin looked at Elizabeth’s downcast little face and felt another flush of anger. What was this man doing gallivanting about when his children needed him? But it was a rash judgment. As soon as he’d deposited Miss High-heels onto the verandah, he squatted down, wrapped an arm around them both and soon had them squealing in delight.
When he finally broke away, he stood and faced Caitlin and she saw the scar, pale on his tanned face. It caught the corner of one eye, pulling it slightly and rather rakishly before snaking its way over his cheekbone, ending at the jaw line.
“Welcome to Tall Trees, Caitlin. I’m sorry I was called away just before you arrived. My mother lives in Darwin and she needed my assistance. I hope you’ve found everything acceptable.”
She shook his hand. “I’m very comfortable, thank you.” She wondered if she should call him by his first name, but sensed he wouldn’t welcome familiarity. She was after all, just the hired help. She was keen to talk to him about Elizabeth who was a complicated little girl. She needed to know more about the past in dealing with her. William was much simpler. He just needed love and Caitlin doubted he got enough of it.
“This is Vanessa Colleridge. Vanessa, Caitlin Fitzgerald, my children’s new governess.”
Vanessa gave Caitlin a brief, icy glance. “How’d you do,” she said, before turning back to Jake. “I’d love that drink, Jake.”
“I could do with one, myself. Come into the living room, kids and have a coke. Vanessa has brought you a bag of sweets each.”
Caitlin inwardly groaned. The pair would be hyperactive and difficult at bedtime. She watched as they entered the living room, leaving her standing in the hall. Grateful for a little time to herself, she decided to go for a walk before dinner. As she trudged across a paddock, making for a fence in the distance, she thought about Vanessa Colleridge, hoping her instincts were wrong about her, if it was true that she was soon to be the children’s stepmother.
* * * *
Reaching the fence, Caitlin looked down at the cluster of buildings in the distance. This was where Harry and the hired hands lived, presumably. She walked part way down the hill and sat on a big, smooth rock still radiating heat from the sun. But the air was cooler now, and softer. Spread out before her was the timeless, desert land of the Aborigines, a sacred, ancient place, eerily beautiful, and dangerous. She was quickly adjusting to the space and the silence. She sat for a while relishing the peace then, noticing the shadows growing longer, began to head back before it grew too dark.
She stopped to get her bearings. There was a line of trees between where she stood and the house that she had marked earlier. She left the fence and began to walk across a paddock of long grass. A rustling sound near her feet made her look down. She was completely unprepared by what she saw. A dusty-black snake was only a few steps away, coiling and uncoiling its body. It flicked its tongue at her. A chill of fear raced up her spine as she grappled with her lack of knowledge. Should she run?
“Step back.” A hand came from behind her, holding a forked stick. It stabbed at the snake, pinning its head to the ground. Caitlin jerked herself from her frozen stance and found her feet, leaping into action. She didn’t look back until she’d reached the house. Bent double, she gasped for breath. The story that Saint Patrick drove all the snakes from Ireland could well be true, for she’d certainly never come across one. Why had she come to this dreadful place?
She watched Jake Monterey throw away the stick as he came striding towards her, his dark eyebrows knitted into a heavy scowl.
“What were you doing walking about in long grass, with those scrappy shoes on your feet? Didn’t you bring better footwear?” His anger brought out a slight accent that wasn’t Australian.
Caitlin was tempted to reply that Vanessa was similarly ill-equipped. “I have shoes and boots, but it’s so hot.”
“For God’s sake put them on next time you tackle the bush, and don’t get lost. It’s close on dusk. I’ve enough to do without having to send out a search party for you.”
He turned and opened the screen door for her.
Who did he think he was? Fear and outrage bubbled up inside her like a wellspring. As she passed by him she said, “There was no way I would’ve got lost. I knew exactly where I was the whole time. I kept the fence in view.”
Jake put his arm across the doorway, halting her progress. She baulked. He was so close she could see the fringe of black eyelashes above dark blue eyes like William’s. Jake’s eyes were
very
grown up, however, and they held a spark of anger. “That fence goes for hundreds of miles. Too bad if you took off in the wrong direction. I’m making a point of this, Caitlin, because you do not yet understand how easy it is to get lost and die out here.”