The Wreck Lagoon: An Australian Drama

By R L Humphries

Ben and Milly Dixon are being stalked by Kate Brown in their small town of Monaldo in south-east Queensland, Australia. Kate had been a girlfriend of Ben's from childhood and expected marriage, but Ben opting for life as a journalist in Brisbane, met and married Milly, a fellow reporter. They and their three children moved to Monaldo to take over Ben's family cattle property. Kate moves there to, following them. She's an aggressive lesbian who fancies Milly and wants revenge on Ben for his perceived betrayal. She stalks them unrelentingly, even trying to kill their son in what was deemed a road accident. Kate is now insane. The Dixons receive respite when Milly's industrialist father dies and the family moves to a big mansion in Melbourne to sort out Milly's large inheritance. Milly is quickly celebrated for her beauty and wealth in Melbourne society and rapidly moves away from Ben, leaving him to the work on the inheritance. She becomes so carried away by the attention that she treats Ben as a servant and he soon rebels, leaving her and threatening divorce. Milly, suddenly aware, chases him to the airport and physically prevents him from boarding his plane, apologizing and surrendering total control to him. Ben takes tough measures to bring her back to earth and they separate again but Milly eventually seeks reconciliation, works on the estate and they are able to return home to Monaldo, where Kate awaits. Shortly after their return their youngest child Mim,6, is missing from her bed and there are bloodstains. The police mount a search and investigate but give up quickly, believing Mim is dead Ben is sure Kate has Mim at a place called the Wreck Lagoon, a beauty spot in the mountains on the edge of their property. He takes his horse, a rifle and an old pistol determined to recover his little girl.....

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483516875

Book preview

fiction

Chapter 1

Wellington Springs Station is a cattle property which rolls gently up from the floor of the Monaldo Valley, in south-east Queensland, over the foothills of the Great Dividing Range and into the range itself. It has an area of 12500 acres and was taken up in the late 19th century by my grandfather, John Dixon.

My family raises Santa Gertrudis cattle on it, and very profitably. The station has very big open grazing areas at the top, near the mountains, which gradually diminish to lush green fattening paddocks, running down over the foothills to the homestead and staff quarters and work sheds. The mountains where we are collect a lot of rain which seeps down through our pastures to the Benson River on the eastern boundary of the property. Very little of our grazing land fails to collect some of that beautiful water as it drains gently downhill, under the surface.

Because of the subterranean seepage, I like to think the property is drought-proof. Certainly we’ve never had the disasters of other areas, although we don’t talk about that. The Australian bush has a way of punishing the complacent.

Occasionally, the water forms lagoons, big and small, perched on the sides of hilly peaks or in small valleys. Some of them are remarkably beautiful, despite the harshness of the bush surrounds.

Wellington Springs is a beautiful place to be, a bit difficult for raising cattle, perhaps, because of the terrain in some parts, but a good work force and constant mustering keep us ahead of any problems.

I was born here and a few years ago began managing the station for the family’s company, the Dixon Cattle Company.

And now, here I am, Ben Dixon, sitting on my horse, Jupiter, in the middle of one of our biggest paddocks at the northernmost extremity of the property--- and I’m shattered.

I should be surrounded by fat, roly poly, gut-busting Santa Gertrudis cattle, their plump rumps rolling handsomely as they parade sedately past me. I should be calculating how much longer to the saleyard for them, how much their dressed weight, what price they’ll bring.

But there wasn’t a beast to be seen.

I rode along the fence line dreading to find that the fence had been cut and the cattle stolen, but nothing so dramatic. There’d been a big storm up here last night. That’s why I was here. A tree had been blown across the wire fence and I thought a lightning strike, or several, had caused the animals to rush, bringing more fencing down. They were now out in the scrub and the gullies and ridges and would take many days to find, muster and return to the pasture; weeks probably, and I felt a great weariness at that thought.

I blamed myself, although I don’t think anything could have prevented it. But I should have checked and moved the cattle out days ago. They’d been ready.

So I sat on my big chestnut, Jupiter, feeling a huge depression. Things on the property were getting out of control. I’d been in charge for a few years now but I knew that I wasn’t really managing Wellington Springs. It was now managing me.

As I’d ridden out from the homestead some hours ago, for some reason A.B.Paterson’s poem ‘Clancy of the Overflow’ had come to mind—bits of it and then, gradually, as I persisted, the whole poem. I’d learnt it at school years ago and was pleased with my eventual total recall—despite my great physical and mental weariness.

If you don’t know the poem it reflects Paterson’s life to a certain extent, and mine.

He was born and brought up on a rural property, qualified as a solicitor and worked in Sydney before becoming a journalist there.

‘I was sitting in my dingy little office where a stingy ray of sunlight struggles feebly… and in place of lowing cattle and I somehow rather fancy that I’d like to change with Clancy, like to take a turn at droving, where the seasons come and go, while he faces the round eternal of the cashbook and journal…’

Well, I’d done that. I was born and brought up at Wellington Springs, gone to University and then become a reporter on the Courier-Mail in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. I didn’t have a dingy office, just a desk in the big reporters’ room. Not a window to be seen, even a dingy one. I’d been an award-winning journalist—two of the top awards in Australian journalism in fact. But then I’d stopped being a journalist and had returned to this, my family property, to allow my mother and father a well-earned retirement over in Bundaberg, on the coast 100 miles to the east.

It had all been a doddle when I first started. I was new—experienced new--- and energetic, the property had been left in great shape by my father with a good aboriginal workforce and house staff; we had a brand new homestead, built for Milly and me as a tenth anniversary gift and we had three gorgeous children.

We also had a house in Monaldo, 30 miles away on a very bad road, and, as the children reached school age, and after a period of home-schooling, we decided that Mil and the kids should move in there, with me visiting every week-end. That was the theory and it worked for a while.

But I’d lost sight of the big picture. My two aboriginal overseers, Barley and Herbert, had been loyal and efficient but they’d got older—it seemed to me almost overnight--- as had their wives, my aboriginal aunties, Beryl and Mabel, who’d partly brought me up. And the broken fence had resulted because I’d put off replacing the two old men. I should have checked that pasture earlier but, as I rode the property, I was finding more and more that needed to be done. I’d done a lot of fence repairs myself and I knew I was being overwhelmed. Although Milly and the three children, Stephen 13, Michael 11 and Mim 6 were only 30 miles away I hadn’t seen them for three weeks. I thought Milly might offer to bring them out to see me but she apologised, citing school events and sport.

My first job now was to see Barley who really should have been out on the range. I rode to his cabin and called him out. I didn’t muck around. I dismounted and walked to him and, for the first time, took in the weariness in his dark, creased face and his brown eyes. He was a kindly man and had meant much to me as I was growing up and learning to be a cattleman. He was my father out on the range, when my dad couldn’t be there. And now it was time. I put my hand on his shoulder, gently.

‘Barley, the fence is down at number 21 and all the cattle are out, gone into the scrub. I’m sorry, old mate, but it’s time. I’m replacing you and Herbert. Daniel and Joseph can take over on trial. Tell them to organise a work and mustering party, head out there tomorrow and stay until they’ve got my cattle back. Then I want every fence line checked. I’ve done some myself but that’s not the idea, is it? I’m the boss!’ Daniel was Barley’s son. Joseph was Herbert’s.

Barley looked defeated. He and I had been waiting for this day, both hoping it would never come.

‘Sorry, Boss. I’m just not up to it any more. Can I still live here—and Mabel?’

‘I’m not that hard, Barley. Yep, you can all stay, on the same pay. That’s the Dixon way. You should know that. I’m going into town later, after lunch, to see the family. Be back next week and we’ll have a proper talk.’

It was also the Dixon way for me to sit down with my friends, gently explain my decision to them and thank them for all their work and friendship. That would probably happen but, at this time, I was just too exhausted.

Barley said, ‘Bin a long time since you seen the family, Ben. An’ you looking very tired, son. Get a long sleep while you in dere.’

They spoke pretty good English but with some slurring of words at times and with careful clarity at others. It had never ceased to fascinate me. His familiarity was born of my childhood amongst them, cared for by Mabel and Beryl. I was the Boss until matters of family came up, like now, but then I became ‘Ben or Benny or son’.

Marion, our cook and Mabel’s daughter, had prepared a sandwich and I took it out to the homestead veranda to have with a cup of tea, sat in one of the canvas deck chairs, put my feet up and fell asleep.

****

I woke to a gentle touch on my face and a murmured, ‘Ben. Wake up, darling.’

I thought ‘Milly!’ and sat up quickly. But it wasn’t Milly, it was Kate Brown. I’d known Kate since we were kids. Our parents had been good friends, and Kate and I had been playmates, youthful friends and then almost, but not quite, lovers. The whole district had expected us to marry, and we probably would have but something about Kate had held me back. I wasn’t ready for that big step with her. Then I’d met Milly and we married pretty quickly. Kate took it well when I told her.

She was a beautiful honey-blonde with awesome green eyes and a lovely girl. She’d studied vet science, had set up her practice at Elmsford, down the road some miles, and had been through two marriages. She and Milly had become close—something that always interested me and bothered me a little. Kate had even moved her practice to Monaldo now.

Now she was caressing my face, and leaned in for a kiss. No way! I leapt to my feet and away from her. Her green eyes were flashing and I was wary. I’d not seen her like that for a long time…before Milly. She’d looked that way sometimes in our heavy petting sessions and she’d become very intense, wanting to have sex. But aroused as I’d been, I never succumbed. I felt uneasy. Perhaps it was because we’d known each other since childhood. Perhaps I felt she was like a sister rather than a lover. Perhaps it was something else, undefined. So Kate and I had never been lovers.

But now I realised it was dark. How long had I been asleep?

I said, ‘Kate, don’t do that. It’s not on, mate. What’s the time?’

‘It’s about seven o’clock, Ben, and why not? Milly’s in town enjoying herself at the dance with Len Henderson, her constant admirer, and you and I are alone. Or didn’t you know about Milly and Len. You’re the last one. You owe me, Ben. Just one night. That’s all I’m asking, darling, to make up for all the hurt. Milly won’t know and I doubt if she’ll care. Now’s our big chance, darling, after so many years. Now, please, Benny? I’ll take you as you are, all unwashed, but we have to move it a bit. I’m babysitting your kids tonight. But we can take our time in bed. Milly can wait. Please, Ben. Love me!’

‘Kate, this is all stupid. Why, all of a sudden. No, lass, go. Now!’

‘Ok, Benny. I’ll go, but I will have you, darling. One time with me and you’ll be back for more. Believe that!’ And then she hurried down the steps, was into her truck and sped down the track to the Monaldo road.

I hurried into the house and rang our Monaldo house number. Milly answered.

‘Milly, it’s me. What’s going on? I hear you’re off to a dance tonight with Len Henderson. I know nothing of this and I forbid it. Absolutely. Do you hear me?’

‘Oh, Ben darling I’m not going with him. He might be in our party but there’s Len and Marjorie Harvey (the doctor) and Lawrie and Marion Hammond (the local copper) and a lot of others. I told you about this dance ages ago and asked you to make a special date of it but you didn’t so I’m off. And mate, don’t ever forbid me to do anything!’ She hung up.

I was bothered but I was thinking. I packed some clothes and threw the bag in my four-wheel drive and hit the road, not far behind Milly’s baby-sitter. I hadn’t showered or changed clothes since my disastrous ride to the 21 paddock but people would have to put up with that. I drove fast but carefully over the very bad road. With some luck I’d be at the dance towards eight o’clock—just as they were beginning. I didn’t know what I was going to do but Mr. Len Henderson was going to learn to leave my wife alone and my wife--- well, I’d deal with her when I met her. But I wasn’t happy.

And then I hit a kangaroo, always a hazard on these roads at night. They wait and then make a sudden dash across the road. My roo-bar hit it with a thump and I sighed, pulled up and reversed until it was in my lights. I carried a Winchester in the truck, on a rack behind my head, so I got it down, regretfully shot the animal and dragged it off the road. They were a pest to us graziers but, for all that, they were still a nice animal. The carcase would be gone by dawn, eaten by dingoes.

And now, a rebellious wife, a huge tiredness and a big, big jealousy…. Benjamin Dixon was not his usual happy self.

When I reached town I cruised past my house first. Kate’s truck was outside and I could see my children’s heads through the window. Three weeks. That was three week-ends but four weeks proper. Not fair, Milly. Not fair. I think I was now starting to get angry, an emotion quite foreign to me. Anger always had seemed a weakness to me. Self-control was a strength.

So I went to the Consort Hotel to have a beer and cool down. Then I had another. Let the dance warm up, Ben, and make your entrance spectacular. But don’t get drunk!

I walked to the Monaldo Shire Hall and its bright lights and music and happy people. The hall was beautifully decorated with streamers and strung lights and I wished I could enjoy it.

I paid for my ticket and a few people stared at my workaday outfit. The men usually wore smooth suits and the ladies beautiful frocks to these events. Take me as you find me, folks. I don’t have the time for the posh things of life tonight.

I paused inside the door. It was a twilight dance, which meant that the lights were dimmed—a lot. I couldn’t see Milly and didn’t know what my intended target, Henderson, looked like.

Then I was seized in a hug. Milly had appeared and gave me a long and sensational kiss, leaned back and said, ‘If this is what I have to do to get a dance with my smelly husband, then I’ll do it every time. May I have the pleasure, darling?’ I smelt of the range and horses and leatherwork and me. Milly smelt of heaven and soft couches and love.

Milly and I had spent a lot of time in this hall when we were first married. We were both skilled dancers so I took her in my arms. It was a waltz now and I still had some anger left, so I spun us around the floor as fast and as strongly as I could, even in riding boots. Milly’s dance style was to fix her eyes on mine, looking away occasionally. But now she knew what I was doing and she kept up with me, smiling serenely. The smile straightened as I picked up the pace and I guess she saw that I was unhappy.

The music finished and I gripped her arm, walked her over to where her purse and wrap were sitting on a chair, picked them up and then swiftly marched her through the crowd and out of the hall, ignoring surprised stares. They’d talk tomorrow alright. She didn’t resist as I’d thought she would—just moved along with me until we were half-way home.

Then she stopped and pulled away. She was wearing a pretty blue cotton dress and she’d put her hair up. She looked gorgeous and I wondered if that was all for Henderson or just for her own satisfaction. As she looked at me with her big blue eyes, a little angry now, I felt a surge of love for her. It had been weeks.

‘This will all be explained, Junior. But let’s go home, send Kate home, get you a shower and make love. It’s been a long time.’

‘Yes, let’s,’ I said. ‘It has.’ Suddenly I felt very weary again. We drove home in my truck with the kangaroo’s blood still splattered on the windscreen. Mil asked about it but I was so fed up and weary I ignored her question.

We dismissed Kate—a very surprised and wary Kate who left very quickly--- and I greeted my children with bear hugs and kisses. They were very excited. But I hadn’t finished with Milly.

Stephen, the eldest, said to Milly, ‘You did it Mum! You said you would. Now we’ve got Dad back.’

Milly said again, ‘All will be explained, Ben. Please go and have a shower. You’re worn out. Into bed, mate. You kids, likewise; plenty of time for Dad tomorrow.’

I did as I was instructed, standing under the hot water for a long time, wondering whether to tell Milly about Kate’s approach. They were best friends and I wondered if Mil would believe me. When I got out, dried, and dressed in my sexiest pyjamas, Mil was waiting for me in bed with her arms outstretched. She’d left her hair up and she was adorable. She truly was an astonishing woman to look at—rich thick blonde hair, a heart-shaped face, perfect lips and throat and eyebrows and chin and huge azure blue eyes—her most striking feature. She had the body to match and I’d never ceased to wonder how I’d won and possessed this remarkable girl.

But I couldn’t resist a remark. ‘You look gorgeous, Milly. Is that for Mr. Henderson or just for the general populace?’

She grabbed me by the jaw and squeezed my cheeks hard, pulling my face into hers, and her snapping blue eyes inches from mine.

‘It was for you, just in case I could make you jealous enough to come to me.’ Shake of the jaw. ‘So now, my hero, are we making love or not? I want you, Benny.’

I moved into her arms and we started to make love but--- disaster—for the first time in my life I failed to perform. I moved off her and lay there, feeling as shattered as I had at Paddock 21 this morning. No! Ten times as shattered. They were just cattle. This was my marriage. Mil stroked my face and head and back and tried to reassure me and I tried to be reassured, I truly did, but I went to sleep.

My last memory was of Milly slipping some undershorts on me ‘in case of visitors’ she said and then pulling my head onto her naked breasts, holding me tight, and making soothing noises. The feel and scent of her nearness caused a brief resurrection but I must have surrendered to sleep again.

Chapter 2

I woke to light whispers and soft kisses all over my face. It was good and I really didn’t want to come to the surface. But eventually things started to register and I opened my eyes to find beautiful Milly stroking my head and softly calling me awake. Oh, those kind eyes, loving and gentle.

I leaned back and stretched and for the first time for weeks felt rested and happy. I reached for Milly with that old feeling but she gently pushed my hands away.

‘It’s ten o’clock, darling, and I have three children outside wanting to see their father and talk to him. I’ll have to tie them up and gag them, soon. In here do you think, or do you want to get dressed and meet them in the kitchen? I’ll tell you, Ben, Mim is bursting to dive into bed with you. It’s been a long time. Are you decent?’

I said, ‘Perhaps some pyjama pants on top of the undershorts. When did I put them on? What did you do with me last night, woman?’

‘Absolutely nothing, darling, but that’s another story. All set?’

‘Yep!’

‘Let the games begin,’ and she opened the bedroom door.

Little Mim came bounding through, leapt on the bed, wrapped her fat little arms around my neck and kissed me, staring at me with her big blue eyes…a junior Milly. Then she tucked her blonde head into my neck and fastened herself into position. Not a word was said.

Stephen, the eldest and thus the most dignified, was next and leaned in to give me a peck, but I seized him in a hug and kissed him. Then I let him go. He was blushing and sat on the bottom of the bed. But he looked pleased. Stephen was dark-skinned and dark-eyed like me. It felt a little eerie looking at him sometimes.

Mr. Self-Contained, Michael, another blond and blue-eyed version of Milly, had been hanging back but advanced and put out his hand to be shaken. I shook it gently then jerked him in for a hug and wheeled him over beside Mim.

I looked at Milly— a proud and pleased Milly—and she inserted herself into the vacant side and held me tight. She always smelt so sweet. I loved her very much.

I was home.

We lay there comfortably for half an hour until people got restless. But I heard of events in their lives over the past four weeks--- four, Milly, not three as you keep saying. You’re counting week-ends not weeks. They wanted to serve me breakfast in bed but I said a cup of tea and then a nice lunch would do me. We’d talk then and for the rest of the day and night if we had to. It was great to be loved and missed and I was at peace and rested. Milly never moved far away and gave me plenty of hand squeezes and soft brushes across my head.

Milly asked me what had gone wrong at Wellington Springs so I told her of piccaninny-dawn mornings and eight o’clock dinners, and me fixing fences and trying to ride them on my own, simply because I’d been too soft to make a decision about Barley and Herbert. But it had been made now. She kissed and caressed me, the caring wife, and I luxuriated in it.

Then, after lunch, we sat down for what Milly said was a serious talk.

I just sat there waiting.

I think this was all rehearsed or at least stage-managed and I think Mim was not supposed to lead off. But she did.

‘Daddy, I want to come home to live with you at the Springs. I’ve really, really missed you and Patrick (her pony). I like it here but not without you. Please can we come home? Mum will teach us.’ Her steady big-eyed stare was hard to resist.

I said, ‘I think we’ll have to talk about that. Patrick’s very fat. I think your legs will stick out a bit, Mim. He’ll need a lot of exercise before you can ride him properly. Yes, baby, I’d like you to come home.’

I looked at Milly but she just stared back. No clues there!

Then Stephen, a little impatient, said, ‘Mum got it wrong, Dad. And we didn’t see you, when we should have been….’

I pulled him up. ‘Hold it, mate. No rudeness to your mum at any time. You know that. Please say sorry.’

He turned to Milly and apologised but Mil said, ‘He’s right, darling. I’ve been an awful parent. I totally mixed things up. Boys, let me tell dad. I somehow got the idea that Stephen loved cricket and he was in one of the teams. They played on a Saturday and a Sunday. I thought he loved his cricket but he didn’t—couldn’t have cared less. Football’s his game, like his dad. Nobody corrected me on that. But I kept us in Monaldo because I thought that’s what they wanted… Michael too for his stamp club and chess club. I never asked them. An idiot mother is what I was. But now a wiser mother. I put them before you, darling, which is ok I suppose if I got it right. I couldn’t have got it wronger, new word kids. They wanted to be with you, all the time, and I was blocking them off from you and I’m so, so sorry, darling, especially now that we know how tough it’s been for you. For the fiftieth time in our