Hope's Road Page 6
Hunter looked like he was in ecstasy, or was it agony? Hard to tell from this angle. If she moved a step to the right maybe she could work it out.
‘Dad, it’s Tam – Ms McCauley.’
Travis started, stood up straight and now Tammy could see it was agony cloaked with embarrassment. ‘It’s not what it looks like, Ms McCauley.’
Jacinta squealed again. ‘Trav, I can’t do it if you stand like that!’
Hunter immediately bent back over and the blonde hair disappeared into his groin once more, a hand coming up to wave hello – or maybe it was goodbye? – to Tammy as she went.
Tammy grinned and leaned against a post that extended above her head and supported what looked like an old wire gate on its side, holding a harvest of apples. ‘And just what do you think it looks like, Mr Hunter?’
An agonised expression crossed Travis’s face once again.
‘Oooh . . . I think I’ve got it!’ Jacinta put her head up for a breath before diving back into action.
Travis glanced at Tammy. She quirked an eyebrow in question. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders as he held himself up over Jacinta. ‘She dropped the dish of lasagna and it shattered on the bench. I’ve got the stuff all over my front here, glass shards and all.’
‘Well, why don’t you just take off your clothes?’ suggested Tammy, smirking. The next moment she wished she could snatch those words right back because Travis Hunter’s piercing blue eyes fixed on her from across the room. Her face blazed with embarrassment. Where the hell had that comment come from? She was a married woman; she had no right to flirt with someone who was possibly still married as well. And he had yet another woman on her knees in front of him. Shit.
Tammy cleared her throat and stood up straight. ‘I should be going. I just wanted to drop off this information for Billy. He’s got a speech to do at school on Monday.’ Her chin lifted in challenge. There, did you know that, Mr Hunter?
Jacinta’s head appeared again and she made to stand up, bringing with her a bag of clinking glass that dripped with tomato sauce and pasta. ‘We’ll have to make do with salad and garlic bread, boys! Yes, we’re doing public speaking – talking about where we live, our families, what we do in our spare time, all that kind of stuff. It’ll be such fun, won’t it, Billy?’ The woman’s voice lilted upwards with excitement.
Billy’s head dropped and he muttered, ‘I don’t know about fun,’ before excusing himself. ‘Thanks, Tammy,’ he said as he hoisted himself up a ladder to a loft-like structure next to the apples. A mezzanine floor? His bedroom perhaps?
Tammy glanced back at the couple in the kitchen. Seeing them all together – Billy, Trav and Jacinta – reminded her of what a family was supposed to look like, which gave her pangs in her gut. If only. She sighed and focused on the two adults on the other side of the kitchen bench. It made for a cosy twosome, the pair of them standing there. Jacinta came up to Hunter’s nose, all fragile and feminine.
Tammy peered down at her own jeans and shirt. Always jeans and a shirt. Then back at the schoolteacher. No wonder men went for women like Jacinta Greenaway and Joanne, who really knew how to work it. Pull on a tight, shortish skirt, a shirt with buttons or a V-neck to drip cleavage that didn’t need a Wonderbra to enhance the look. Spend an hour in the bathroom with a hair straightener, slather on some makeup and pull on a pair of killer high-heels and voila! There you had it, a dick magnet. Tammy sighed. She couldn’t handle the man she had let alone attract anyone else.
‘I’ll be going then. I’ll leave you to it . . .’ she said with a mocking smile. ‘Whatever it is. I’ll let myself out.’
Tammy turned to go but as she made it through the sliding door she found Hunter right behind her. ‘Not so fast, Ms McCauley.’ He shut the door after him, cutting off Jacinta’s voice as she called Billy down for tea. ‘This really isn’t what it looks like. She came to talk about Billy and then . . . well . . . didn’t leave.’
Tammy stuck a hand in the air. ‘Mr Hunter, you don’t owe me any explanations. You can do whatever you damn well like. If you want to spend your nights with someone half your age who looks like Lady Gaga, then go right ahead.’
‘Trav.’
‘What?’
‘My name’s Trav.’
‘Well, Trav, I’ll be off. Thanks for the interesting entertainment. That was better than SBS TV.’
‘Lady Gaga, huh? Never heard of her but she sounds interesting.’ A half-smile crossed the man’s face. It transformed him. Tammy sucked in her breath. Christ. ‘It must have looked pretty funny.’ There was a husky edge to his voice, as though it wasn’t used to being tuned in to normal conversation for extended periods of time.
It made her remember the other reason why she was up on top of McCauley’s Hill at this time of night. ‘I also came to apologise.’
‘What for?’
‘For this afternoon. I was way out of line, yelling at you. What you do with your kid is your business. I’ve got enough troubles of my own without messing with yours.’
‘How’d you get here?’
‘On foot. Did you hear what I said?
‘On foot?’
‘Yes, I used my legs,’ said Tammy exasperated. ‘I said I’m sorry!’
‘Yeah. Yeah. No worries. You mean you walked all the way up here by yourself? In the dark?’
‘It’s hardly dark. The moon’s out.’ Tammy could feel her hackles rising again, damn the man. ‘I’m not precious, you know. I can look after myself.’ Her eyes flicked back towards the house and the shiny red car.
‘I’ll run you home.’ He moved towards his ute.
‘No! I’m fine.’ She did not need him doing anything for her. ‘Thanks all the same,’ she added before setting off down the drive.
She tripped on a rock. Trav went to help her back up. ‘I’m really fine,’ she said as she righted herself and took off at a clipping pace, only to just miss a renegade branch sticking out from a gum tree at head height.
‘Very fine,’ she said again. Move, McCauley. Get the hell out of here before you make a complete fool of yourself.
‘Thanks for bringing the stuff for the kid.’ The yell came floating down the hill to settle around her shoulders as she tripped on yet another rock.
No worries, Trav, Tammy muttered.
She was just about at her own gateway when the shiny red car blew past, showering her with grit and gravel. A hand was in the air, blonde locks and glittering rings on show, as the vehicle roared past.
‘Bye, Jacinta,’ muttered Tammy. Nice enough girl but did she have to make it so apparent she wanted Travis Hunter? Where had subtlety disappeared to? Then again, perhaps she was getting old. Maybe it was all about just putting it out there. Come get me, big boy, I’m all yours, you don’t even have to ask. Joanne and Jacinta. Two peas in a pod. God, now she was getting cynical. Joanne would eat the poor schoolteacher alive, any day.
She was in front of the dairy when she heard the whistle of a turbo diesel motor out near her front gate. The vehicle had passed the drive and turned into the gateway of the hayshed. She watched as the lights did a 360-degree turn, then slowly made their way back to her driveway. The ute then propped and the driver turned off the motor. The lights disappeared but just before they did she saw the shadow of a man in a hat in the driver’s seat. Shon? But it wasn’t a twin-cab ute. And why would he be casing the joint out?
She fled inside, slamming the screen door. Switched off the back light. Watched through the louvre windows.
A few minutes later the ute started again, the noise of the motor rumbling across the paddock in the clear air. So, whoever it was, they weren’t trying to be quiet.
It was then, as the ute pulled away, that she realised it was a LandCruiser. Travis Hunter. Checking on her. Making sure she’d got home safely. She moved back outside and watched the path of the vehicle as it disappeared the
n reappeared through the low level crossing at the creek. Sure enough, at the T intersection it turned left and then right, and up the hill it went. The last she saw of it were the tail-lights turning the final bend, and then ute and man disappeared, swallowed by tall box and ironbark stands.
Chapter 10
Shimmering azure water beckoned to Tammy from across the street. The photos advertising discount flights to the stunning islands off the coast of Queensland were in the window of the gift shop plus travel agency. Maybe she should just book a flight here and now, take off somewhere.
Tammy pushed her trolley of groceries away from the supermarket and towards the parked ute. Beyond the main street lay the lake, the pride of Narree. The water glinted in the sun. There were some school kids rowing, their sculls skimming along the surface. Oh, to be that age again. Young and carefree.
Ten years of marriage – almost a third of her life – wasted and not even a child to show for it. Shon hadn’t wanted to start a family too early. Now, that was probably a blessing. Imagine dragging a child through divorce courts and property settlements. Not that there’d be much to settle. The property was hers. Only the run-off block had Shon’s name on it. Still, she needed that land to run her dairy herd on during the winter to give the farm a break.
But how exactly was she going to get that two-timing, lying, cheating bastard safely off Montmorency? She’d have to engineer a confrontation with him. When he threatened to leave, just tell him to go, rather than begging him to stay as she’d done countless times over the last two years. What an idiot she’d been.
Unloading the groceries into the ute she pondered whether to just get in and go home or find some lunch. Shon was due back that afternoon. She decided to get lunch. Put off the inevitable.
As she walked towards the bakery, she spied a new gallery setting up shop a couple of doors down. Might be worth a look. She bought a roll and bottle of mineral water and then slowly moved towards the new store.
Displayed on its own in the window was a painting. Tammy suddenly forgot about eating lunch. The picture was incredible. It was of a woman, naked but tastefully so. Sphinx-like, her body was female, but with dainty feet rather than the haunches of a lion and she was adorned with the most incredible wings of iridescent colours, open to catch the rays of the sun. She was standing on the edge of a cliff, appearing to lean into the wind, face upturned as though she was sensing something. Her eyes were closed, a slight smile touched her face. It seemed the creature was about to take flight into her future. Tammy stared at the figure some more. Then it hit her what the angel was smelling, seeing, leaning towards.
Freedom.
‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’ A voice came from the right. A tidy-looking stranger stood beside her. She was kitted out like a solicitor or a banker in a suit. ‘Alice Stringer. I own the gallery.’ The woman caught Tammy’s look of surprise. ‘No, I don’t normally dress like this but I’ve just come back from the bank. Got to walk the walk, talk the talk.’
Tammy blushed. It wasn’t the first time she’d wished her thoughts weren’t transmitted so plainly to her face. ‘Tammy McCauley. I’m sorry. Stereotyping I guess. Arty types don’t normally – ’
‘Dress in suits, I know. I’ll go out the back and slip into my kaftan if that makes you feel any better?’ Alice Stringer’s green eyes glinted mischievously.
Tammy warmed to the woman immediately. ‘So . . . how much?’ she asked, waving her hand towards the window.
‘I’m not sure I want to sell her, actually.’ Alice’s gaze moved greedily over the picture. ‘But who am I kidding? I need the sale. This is actually a numbered print of an original painting. It’s one of a series of three. I have number two in the shop but it’s just arrived so I haven’t unpacked it yet. I’m trying to get number three but it’s taking a while.’
‘Who’s the painter?’
‘Reyne Jennings. She’s becoming big in the art world. Her original paintings are starting to sell for a lot of money.’
And Tammy could see why. The execution and detail of the print in front of her was exceptional.
‘Would you like to see the second one?’
‘Would I ever!’
‘Well, you finish your lunch and I’ll unpack it.’
Tammy looked down at the forgotten roll in her hand. The bite she had taken tasted awful. ‘I don’t want this any more. I’ll just get rid of it and follow you in.’
Tammy moved up the street to deposit her rubbish, contemplating the picture. She had inherited a love of art from her grandmother. Shon had never had any time for it, so she hadn’t bought anything since they’d married.
What was stopping her now though? Why should Shon dictate to her any more?
She walked into the gallery and found Alice on her knees extricating another print from its packaging. When the picture was finally revealed, both women sucked in their breaths. It was unbelievable. The angel had taken off and was flying. Slipstreams and eddies buffeted her magnificent wings, causing the iridescent colours to sparkle in the sun. Her free-flowing clothing reminded Tammy of a picture she’d once seen in a children’s Bible of the Archangel Gabriel. The sheaths of cloth around the figure in front of her floated with serene grace. The expression on the woman’s face was one of sheer bliss. Freedom. Happiness. Love. The print was numbered 4/100, exactly the same as the one in the window.
Tammy knew she had to have them. They contained everything she was feeling, especially the need to throw off the shackles of submission and subordination forced on her these last few years.
‘I’ll take them. Both of them.’
‘Don’t you want to know how much first?’
‘No. Yes. Well, how much?’
Alice named a sum which made Tammy pause. But she swallowed and said she’d take them all the same. She might just have to dip into the principal of her inheritance from her grandmother, but she didn’t care. These prints symbolised her future and she needed a talisman to hang onto, to give her the guts and determination to do what needed to be done. Get rid of Shon.
‘I’ll let you know when the third print comes in. You can have that for a reduced amount seeing you’re taking these two. I haven’t seen a picture of it yet, but if it’s anything like these, you won’t be disappointed.’
Tammy watched as the woman retrieved the first print from the window and packaged them together. She felt a small kernel of satisfaction uncurl in her belly. They were perfect. She could almost feel herself inside the sphinx-angel’s body, riding the wind, energy suffusing her whole being.
She was doing it. Getting her life back. Baby steps, that’s for sure, but still it was forward motion.
And that was what counted.
Chapter 11
The antique milkcan sat squat on its side, a thick slot cut into the lid for the day’s mail currently spilling from its rusty depths. Tammy pulled the ute into her driveway, wound down the window and hauled out the letters. The old Buddha stared at her from his spot by the front gate-post. She’d never rubbed his belly; she left that kind of hocus-pocus stuff to Lucy. Her friend’s fascination with the blasted thing was the only real reason she left it there. That and Shon. She paused, glanced towards the homestead. He was home. She could see his ute. She looked back at the grey effigy. Maybe it was time to take the sledgehammer to it.
Then again, maybe she should try rubbing the old bloke. Maybe he could help her kick Shon out.
She jumped out of the ute and stomped towards the Buddha. Squatting down she rubbed her hand over the old fella’s prodigious belly. Round and round she went. Give me the strength, the guts and the determination to do this. To follow through, kick the bastard out, to survive and learn to live my life again.
A ute rumbled past on the road behind her. She automatically turned to see who it was. Two people peered through the LandCruiser windscreen: one an earnest little boy, the other a
rugged-looking man with a half-smile on his face. Caught you, he seemed to be saying. Blushing, Tammy flung her hand in the air in acknowledgement and quickly stood up, swiping her palms against each other.
Shon’s twin-cab was parked hard up against the garden fence. He always did that, as though he was clinging to something solid, claiming his right to be there. She marched up the path, taking big long strides in an effort to reinforce her determination to do what had to be done.
‘Shon? Shon!’ she yelled as she walked in the door. ‘What’re you doing?’ She could hear him, swearing and slamming cupboard doors. The homestead looked like a team of thieves had ransacked the place. Kitchen drawers were turned inside out, the doors on the sideboard in the living room swung dejectedly while the contents lay strewn across the floor. Tammy followed the trail of destruction through the formal lounge and down the long passage towards the main bedroom of the house.
He was standing beside their antique solid oak bed.
‘What’s going on?’
‘What the fuck does it look like? I’m leaving. Finally got my ticket out of here.’
The words took the wind clean out of her. She’d been going to tell him to get out, so why was she so shocked that he’d got in first?
‘I don’t love you and I hate living here.’ He had turned from the cupboard to look at her. His eyes were hard and spilling with distaste, his face contorted with anger and frustration. She wondered if he’d ever really loved her.
‘It’s all about you. Your family,’ he raged, his cheeks swelling with self-righteousness. ‘Now it’s going to be about me.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll be wanting half of the farm of course. You’ll be hearing from me solicitor.’
‘Half the farm? No way. You can’t do that! It’s mine.’