Lake Hill Read online

  ‘Sorry about Honey,’ said Montana, sounding embarrassed. ‘She’s a darling but she does stink a bit when she’s been rolling in cow shit and then gets wet.’

  Stink? It was a wonder they weren’t light-headed on the fumes.

  ‘So we’re going to a place called Lake Grace?’ Julia asked.

  ‘Yep. My home town for better or worse depending on the day.’

  ‘Never heard of it,’ said Julia, lying. She pushed away the memory of reclining on a blanket under stars so bright they almost hurt her eyes. ‘Actually, on second thoughts, since I was heading for Lakes Entrance maybe I should –’

  ‘Ring someone?’ Montana gave a half-laugh. ‘Good luck with that. In this weather you won’t get a signal.’

  ‘Right,’ said Julia. ‘It really was very kind of you to save me,’ she added.

  She needed to channel her counsellor and focus on the positives of the situation. Because if she looked at the negatives, she would most likely cry.

  ‘That’s alright. I’m just glad I didn’t have to do any mouth-to-mouth or recovery-position first aid stuff. You had me worried back there. You were very white. But then you probably had cause to be. With that hole in your windscreen and your run-in with the B-double, it’s a wonder you aren’t dead.’

  Dead like Rupert. Julia swallowed the lump in her throat.

  ‘So, you heading to Lakes for a weekender?’ Montana asked. ‘Going to meet a man?’

  She winked and gave Julia a nudge that was so forceful it pushed her even harder against the passenger door. At this rate she was going to have a dent in her side for a week.

  ‘I’m married,’ Julia said.

  She realised her response sounded stiff but couldn’t help herself. She didn’t want to think about that tiny hope dancing at the edge of her consciousness.

  ‘Since when did that stop a little dalliance on the side?’ Montana said. ‘I’ve never indulged myself because my husband Owen’s a good bloke, but I had a hell of a time while I was backpacking around Australia. Plus I hear plenty of stories in my line of work. You get all the gossip from people passing through and looking for a nice spot to hole up for a while. Our local seaside towns are great for that. You just wouldn’t believe the number of people who want a bit extra on the side.’

  ‘I was always faithful,’ Julia said.

  It was Rupert who wasn’t. Although maybe it wasn’t fair to call constant references to your dead first wife cheating.

  ‘Was?’ asked Montana, turning slightly towards her and quirking an eyebrow.

  ‘My husband passed away last year.’

  And Lydia, eighteen years earlier. It was a long time to live in another woman’s shadow. Huh! Who lived in whose shadow? Julia’s ever-present conscience surged to the surface and she forced it down.

  Rain slicked the windscreen. Wind blew against the ute, trying to force it sideways. Montana grimly held the vehicle on the road.

  ‘Sorry to hear that,’ she finally said.

  And she did sound sorry, which was quite unsettling. Julia wondered why the sympathy of a stranger had more effect on her than the empty platitudes of her work colleagues. Perhaps because they’d understood more about the true state of her marriage than she’d realised.

  Time to deflect the conversation. Searching for a topic, Julia only had to sniff the air. ‘So you’re a farmer?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah. Sort of. Well, I want to be. You have no idea how long I’ve been hankering to buy these ewes. My brother isn’t for it. My family are cattle people and he thinks sheep are nuts. My brother goes on and on about not having the right fencing.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘These little ladies in the trailer are going to help me train my working dogs. I’m a real estate agent the rest of the time.’

  ‘In Lake Grace?’

  ‘Yes, God love me. Since I could sell camels to the Arabs.’

  Julia laughed.

  ‘No. Really. I did sell camels to the Arabs. Wild camels from outback Western Australia. Figured if I could sell those stinky animals to a bunch of Egyptians, I could sell real estate. We bought the franchise, but Owen does a lot of the work. He loves it. Me? Not so much.’

  Julia took another look at Montana. Now that she’d unwound all the oilskin and wool and removed her hat, she was revealed to be an attractive woman in her early twenties with wild curly auburn hair, pale skin and a light smattering of freckles on an upturned nose. Her deep brown eyes flashed with intelligence and determination as she chatted away to Julia and negotiated the hills and turns in the road.

  ‘I’ve done some things in my time.’ She was talking like she was sixty, Julia thought. ‘You should’ve seen me chasing chickens on a chook farm in New South Wales. Then there was the almond harvesting, and the cherry picking. I hitched a ride up north and worked on a station as a camp host for a while, then lit out for the coast and played barmaid in some pubs in Darwin. In Broome, I drove a little bus, ferrying people around to tourist spots, but I didn’t like that so much. There’s only so many stupid questions you can take. But the camel herding was fun – the rounding-up part, anyway. That’s where I met my husband, Owen. He was a stockman with a penchant for humps!’ She winked.

  Julia had forgotten how to be smutty after living for so long with straitlaced Rupert. This Montana had certainly lived. Not like her passenger.

  Julia turned and looked out towards the now darkened landscape. She couldn’t see much. And she didn’t want to feel much either. This trip was supposed to be about relaxing and making a new start. Something more than the boring life she’d known for the past twenty years. A return to her roots, to her old home town of Lakes Entrance …

  ‘You’re a pretty serious kinda lady, hey?’ said Montana, taking her eyes off the road for a second and gazing at her passenger. ‘You don’t say much. Guess I should be on my best behaviour – you might like Lake Grace so much you’ll want to stay and buy a property off yours truly. I’ve got some really nice ones on the books. Units, cottages, flash estates … Well, only one of those, but there’s plenty of business opportunities with all the tourists visiting the lake. I’m positive I could find you something.’ She grinned.

  Julia, on the other hand, frowned. She hadn’t wanted to visit Lake Grace – not yet. She wanted – correction, needed – Lakes Entrance with its glorious beaches, decadent hotel, and scrumptious breakfast and dinner that were part of the five-day package. She wanted the beachside yoga session she’d booked for eight tomorrow morning, followed by an afternoon eco-cruise on the Gippsland Lakes, where she’d see dolphins, seabirds and seals. She wanted to return from all that salty goodness for a massage, followed by an à la carte dinner at seven. Sunday was similarly planned out, including a morning walk along the Esplanade to check out the competition for her (hopefully) new business. Monday morning she was meeting the real estate agent who was going to show her the cafe she’d found online and which she hoped would be the start of her new life. Tuesday and Wednesday, she had appointments with the local newspapers and two lifestyle magazines to discuss her marketing plans. And on Thursday, on her way back to Melbourne, she was meeting up with an acquaintance, a free-lance travel journalist, to find out more about the appeal of coastal Gippsland to tourists. Her business was going to be a success. She had it all planned. A broken-down car in the middle of nowhere did not feature in her itinerary.

  Julia didn’t do things spontaneously. She’d learned the hard way that prior planning prevented major stuff-ups. Speaking of which, she suddenly realised she’d left her diary and notebook – which contained the journal she’d so diligently written daily since commencing sessions with her counsellor – on the front seat of the Peugeot. Damn, damn, damn!

  ‘Shit!’ cried her driver.

  Julia grabbed at the door as the ute veered sideways onto the gravel verge, stones rattling underneath them. Montana wrestled with the wheel, and almost as rapidly swung the vehicle back onto the tarmac. She cursed again and glanced in the rear-view mirror to check the tra
iler of sheep.

  Julia peered back, trying to see what had caused the ute to swerve. She spied a dark round lump just before it disappeared behind the trailer.

  ‘Wombat,’ said Montana. There wasn’t even a quiver in her voice despite such a near miss. ‘Did you know more wombats kill people in Australia than sharks?’ she observed. ‘True fact. You hit one of those and you’ll do a lot of damage – they’re rock-hard little buggers. I’ve already wrecked one ute thanks to a wombat. People think they’re all fluffy and cuddly, but if one bites you on the ankle it hurts! A bit like koalas. They piss everywhere and they stink. Oh my God, they make Honey here smell like a tuberose.’

  Honey stood up at her name, eyes bright. When she realised she wasn’t needed, she gave a yawn and sank back down on her haunches. Julia shuffled her legs as far sideways as she could. The dog really did smell terrible.

  Montana wasn’t finished. ‘And how about possums? They get into the littlest nooks and crannies, and love running around on your roof in the middle of the night sounding like an elephant. And goannas – well, they’re not great either, especially if they mistake you for a tree. Those claws, have you seen them? They’re huge! Wouldn’t you just hate to be a tree?’

  Obviously Montana wasn’t fond of Australia’s wildlife. Julia, on the other hand, felt she needed to defend their national treasures.

  ‘I don’t know … I think wombats and koalas are cute. Kangaroos too, and they bring in lots of overseas visitors. Although I’m not sure about goannas as I’ve never seen one.’

  She’d seen lots of lizards living in places like Gippsland and the Wimmera as a teenager, but never a goanna.

  Montana took her eyes off the road for a second time and gaped at her.

  ‘I live in Armadale in Melbourne,’ Julia explained. ‘You don’t see many goannas in our neighbourhood. I’d actually really like to see one.’

  And she would. She had a list as part of her plan for a new life. Maybe she should add ‘See a goanna’ to it? It could sit right up there underneath ‘Buy a dog’. No matter how much she’d pleaded, Rupert had never allowed her to get a dog. A new car, classic or modern – yes. An antique that would appreciate in value, or a case of rare wine – yes. New clothes and jewellery – yes. Even a small ute to cart away the garden rubbish. (And a fat lot of good that had done him.) But a little dog to keep her company while he was working long hours as a solicitor – no. ‘It’ll be a nuisance,’ was his excuse.

  Montana was talking again. ‘There’s plenty of goannas around the lake. Our resident artist does amazing sculptures of them and all the other native wildlife. If you’re a wildlife lover, you’re in for a treat. They look like they’ve been carved out of wood but he actually works with clay.’

  Julia’s stomach turned over. Shivers of excitement competed with tendrils of panic. She tried to make her voice sound airy, but it was difficult. Her vocal cords felt like they were caked in sludge. ‘Really? That sounds … interesting. Maybe I’ll look him up while I’m in town. What’s his name?’

  ‘Rick Halloran. He’s actually my brother. You’d think our parents would have shared at least a few chromosomes of their creativity with me, but no, they’d obviously run out by the time I came along. Gave them all to Rick and left me with zip.’

  Julia felt she would faint right then and there. She was in the same car as Rick Halloran’s sister?

  ‘I’m the dumb one of the family,’ Montana continued. ‘I didn’t get any of the artistic or acting genes. I’m better with animals. I’m aiming to make my name training working dogs.’

  Julia tried to school her face to a pleasantly blank expression while a little voice in her head taunted: You, Julia Gunn, have either hit the jackpot or you’re in deep shit. She couldn’t decide which.

  ‘My big brother’s one of Lake Grace’s most famous exports,’ Montana said, her pride obvious in her voice. ‘Well, him and my parents.’

  Why a world-famous actress like Elsbeth Halloran had chosen to live in a remote backwater like Lake Grace was the subject of many articles Julia had read while researching her potential new business. Cormac Halloran had inherited the large grazing property, which had been in his family for generations. According to Elsbeth, it was the perfect retreat to recharge her batteries.

  Montana was still talking. ‘Rick doesn’t like people much at the moment so you won’t catch him showing at a gallery. The information centre has a few of his pieces, but that’s about it. All his stuff gets sold for big bucks overseas these days, and to places like Government House. I think the National Gallery has some too. Anyway, you probably won’t meet him, although he sometimes goes to the pub for a good feed. He’s pretty cute, but he’s dodgy around crowds. Our parents were such nutters. Amazing we ended up as sane as we are really.’ She paused for breath and peered at the darkened road ahead.

  Julia couldn’t speak. There was no way she was going to tell this girl that she’d followed Rick Halloran’s career for the last twenty years, even though she’d also spent those years trying to forget him. And now she’d been thrown right into his immediate orbit the minute she hit Gippsland. She had been secretly hoping to run into him, but not this quickly! It was crazy. A kaleidoscope of images flicked through her mind. Wet crunchy sand against her skin. Stone’s Green Ginger Wine. Coconut oil. The intoxicating sensations and scents of summer. Naked entwined limbs.

  ‘Are there only the two of you?’ she asked, as if she didn’t know already.

  ‘Yep. I was the change-of-life “accident”, whereas Rick was the prodigal son. The folks were so self-absorbed they used to forget about me, and Rick kinda brought me up. He was a terrific big brother, and I always had the animals to run to when things got tough. In the end we both got away. I went off backpacking around Oz. And Rick did a bronc-riding stint over in Canada before he came home to bring me up. He was pretty good too.’

  Pretty good? The man had been the second-top bronc-rider in Australia at one stage, which was why he’d gone to try his luck abroad. Or so Google had told her.

  ‘I came home after I met Owen. But except for Canada, Rick’s been here most of the time running the properties for the olds. That, and sculpting.’

  ‘And your parents … are they still in Lake Grace too?’

  She certainly hoped not, now she was being taken there.

  ‘Nope. They died.’

  That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. A city flat or a nursing home maybe, but not this. She wondered how she’d missed seeing any reports of the famous actress’s death.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said, but she wasn’t, not really. She could never be gracious when it came to Elsbeth Halloran.

  ‘They died together. Well, not literally – my mother died of cancer, and Dad topped himself a week later. A broken heart, we reckon. He was crook anyway with all the drinking and stuff, but still …’ Montana swallowed and peered out at the passing scrub, seeming to search for words. ‘I suppose it’s kinda sweet really, in a weird way, not being able to live without each other.’

  ‘Sweet’ wasn’t a word Julia would ever have associated with Elsbeth Halloran.

  A sniff caught her attention and she saw a lone tear slide down Montana’s face. A grubby hand swiped at it.

  ‘I still can’t say they’ve gone without tearing up, even though they were shit parents. Especially seeing Dad had a choice …’ She left the sentence hanging like a wispy cobweb, strong and fragile at the same time.

  Julia didn’t know what to say or do to offer comfort. But the dog at her feet did. Honey squeezed her shaggy face around the gear stick and into the side of her mistress’s thigh.

  Montana gave a small laugh. ‘As I said, there’s always my animals. People, on the other hand …’

  ‘But you’re a real estate agent. You deal with people all day.’

  ‘Well, yeah. And that’s probably why I’ve given over so much of it to Owen. But I had to find a way to earn a buck, seeing as I can’t turn lumps of mud
into cool stuff like Rick can.’

  ‘I’m sure you have some kind of creative gene.’

  ‘Nope. Not a damn thing.’ The girl’s tone was doleful.

  Again Julia didn’t know what to say, so she pulled her phone out of her handbag.

  Montana shook her head. ‘Julia, Julia, Julia, it’s not like Melbourne out here, mate. There’re black spots all over the place. You won’t get reception until we hit town. And that’ll be around this last corner.’ She dropped the ute back a gear as she took the sharp bend.

  Julia stared at the little whirly-gig on her phone screen that was valiantly trying to find a signal. Her own life felt like a whirly-gig at the moment, going round and round and round. ‘What goes around comes around,’ her mother used to say. It certainly looked like that was the case today.

  She gave up on the phone, dropped it into her bag and sat back in her seat. A sea of soft lights appeared in the dark valley below. Lake Grace looked idyllic, calm and peaceful.

  Julia didn’t feel the same way. Her heart was hammering. Her palms were sweaty. This was so not a good idea. She’d wanted to be settled, with a place to live and her business running successfully, before she came face to face with Rick Halloran, the famous and prosperous artist-cum-grazier. She’d wanted to have it all together. Breaking down on the side of the road and hitching a ride in a grotty old ute (even if it did belong to his sister) looking like a drowned rat was not how she’d envisaged their possible reunion.

  She only hoped she could get in and out of town as quickly as possible. Get her car fixed, head off to Lakes Entrance, and not have to look back at the past currently rushing towards her, at least until she was ready for it.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Montana. ‘Welcome to Lake Grace, my gorgeous town.’

  The town where the man who had once loved Julia lived.

  The man she’d fled from.

  Chapter 3