Children of the Coloured Sands

By Barbara Hartmann King

Phillip Parry lived a double life, hiding his secret family for twenty years. He used his Cessna like a car. Only now can his wife and five additional children move to the thriving dynasty of Jooloonga Station. The Coming of the Second Family creates a furor that will test them all.

This is the story of Susannah Ruth the teenage daughter and her brave-hearted mother Colleen. Susannah falls in love with the neighbors half-brother Douglas Clarke. Disturbing revelations from both families blaze a quicksilver trail through all their lives.

A story of amazing love and tormented souls, spanning two continents, travelling to England and back, set on a stunning canvas in central Queensland where the magic of the Dreaming controls the heartbeat of an Ancient Land.

This is the third book of the Coloured Sands Series. The characters from the first two novels are joined in this novel with dramatic impact.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jul 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503507401

Barbara Hartmann King

An essential Australian novel, peppered lovingly with "Gone With the Wind" flavors where loyal servants are devoted to the family, containing frontier adventure, dauntless and enterprising on many levels.

Book preview

Prologue

Jooloonga Station 1973

The past will return with exalted force

Suffusing, pervading, reshaping the course

To dwell in the mind to enter the soul

Converting hearts, forming new life roles

A family story – a story retold.

T he matriarch of Jooloonga Station, Emily Parry, died at the age of eighty. Her only son Phillip, heir to the great empire, Jooloonga Station, held within him, his mother’s final, gasping words. His recollections were soaked in the ambience of that vivid s cene.

It was the day of her eightieth birthday. They were waiting for the guests to fill the exquisite, pampered gardens, which had been lovingly tended by four generations of the Parry family. Phillip was pushing umbrellas into the centre of garden tables when his mother beckoned him from where she sat under the pergola.

‘Phillip,’ she said, in an odd voice, with an insidious clutching pain creeping around her heart. Phillip knew immediately that something was terribly wrong.

‘Mother, what is it?’

‘Nothing Phillip. I have to ask you something and it is important.’

He nodded.

‘I met a nice young man called Martin, a little while ago,’ she said in a trembling voice. ‘Is he Colleen O’Halloran’s son?’ She took a deep breath, ‘and your son Phillip?’

Phillip sat facing his mother. He could tell by her expression, she already knew the answer.

‘Yes Mother,’ he said, eyes questioning. ‘He would never have told you. How did you ever guess?’

Emily smiled with the secret knowledge she would never share. ‘Let me just say he has a strong family resemblance.’

The pain in her chest had worsened. Phillip could see the distress in every nuance of her being.

‘Mother, you’re ill.’

‘No Phillip. I’m quite all right, just a touch of indigestion.’ She looked into the depths of his eyes. ‘I don’t feel angry any more, Phillip.’

She closed her eyes and leant back in the chair. Her breathing was laboured.

‘Mother! You’re not all right. I’ll get help.’

‘Don’t leave me, please.’ She jerked herself forward. A butterfly hovered over a flowering potted plant on the small table and never missed a flutter at the sudden movement.

‘Tell me about your children Phillip. How many do you and Colleen have?’

‘Two boys and three girls Mother.’

Emily smiled lovingly as she lay back in the chair. In hindsight, Phillip knew his mother no longer felt pain.

Still smiling, Emily’s eyes reflected a peace that is not of this world. She looked through the gardens to the black-soil plains and the distant hills. She knew this land, Jooloonga, had found its rightful heirs.

‘The Tan people from the Coloured Sands,’ she said, her whispered words drifting on air currents as she slipped to that other realm. Phillip put his ear to his mother’s chest before seeking help. The flutter in his ear was not his mother’s heart but the fluttering of delicate wings and when he looked, the butterfly had also departed like a spirit on the wind.

Phillip sighed, a deep heartfelt sigh of pure emotion. That memory would always be with him, more often perhaps when he awoke from a nap like he did this day, on the settee in the sitting room at Jooloonga Homestead. His mother had sensed that her grandson Steven from his first marriage would never have children after his intensive treatment for leukaemia. However, his mother died knowing the truth, that there would be heirs. He had five other children – a secret family whom he could never tell her about, or he thought he could not.

He stretched and yawned, then found himself walking to his mother’s trophy room.

An enormous wall hanging covered one wall from ceiling to floor, consisting entirely of prize ribbons, neatly sewn together. Every trophy and award from the famous Jooloonga Hereford Stud was in this room. Showcases lit up the room with their mirrored backs and shiny glass. The late Emily Parry had filled her first glass cabinet, hung her first ribbons over fifty years ago. He stood gazing at myriad trophies and framed photographs – photographs taken at large agricultural shows from every state, displaying the many famous stud bulls draped in their winning ribbons at the exhibitions. His grandparents were in some of the pictures and his father but mostly his mother and a lot of himself and a few of Steven.

His eyes went willingly to the Coloured Sands legend. The poem had been penned by a gifted calligrapher, framed in gold beneath bevelled glass. It was displayed as proudly as any trophy. Phillip had been positive his mother was happy in those final moments of her life – content to have the Tan people of the Coloured Sands Legend spread through the highlands and over the black soil plains as the rightful heirs to the great Jooloonga Station. He studied the Dream Tale with its etching of a dove.

Image56525.jpg

Mary’s Dream

She drifted into a dreamy world where frothy water

washed onto a beach of coloured sands –

the colour of people, black, white, yellow and brown;

then suddenly a huge wave, whipped by a fierce wind,

churned and swallowed the coloured sands

that kept swirling and curling, around and over,

this way and that way until one colour emerged –

the colour of tan.

People walked proudly out of those waves –

beautiful golden tan people, the colour of all people

combined and the eyes that shone from those beautiful,

golden, tan faces were full of love and peace.

–––––––––-

Phillip knew the author, or more precisely, the dreamer, was Mary Wilson, for Emily was persistent that her first foster mother, Mary, declared it to be a dream. He was thankful that this dream tale had given his mother a measure of peace when she needed it most, after the revenge massacre of her family by wild natives. However, Emily’s desire for reconciliation had not borne fruit. Deep in her tortured soul she had never willingly forgiven. Her childhood trauma was buried in fathoms of suffering too painful to ever be erased completely.

He mistakenly believed she had found peace somewhere in her subconscious when she employed Colleen O’Halloran as the governess to his son Steven, after the death of his first wife, Fay. Colleen had answered their advertisement and with her excellent qualifications and an Irish name, they had no idea she was half aboriginal until she arrived. Phillip had begged her to leave, but Colleen, not aware of the situation was determined to have the job. Phillip told his mother the governess with the coppery skin was of Greek descent, for her features defied definition. However, his mother Emily gradually succumbed to the fact that Colleen was indeed aboriginal.

It was a natural outcome when Phillip married the half-caste aboriginal governess Colleen O’Halloran, to have a secret ceremony. His wife gave birth to their five tan children in a distant place, with Phillip choosing to live a double life, using his plane like most used a car, until his mother’s passing. That had certainly been another chapter of his life. He had purchased a beautiful irrigation property; they named Wyuna, near the little town of Murlong, in the South Burnett. Colleen managed Wyuna, choosing to employ aboriginal help from the indigenous settlement close by. She concentrated on fattening cattle for the export market and cultivated lucerne for haymaking. A large measure of the prime lucerne hay was trucked to Jooloonga to be stored for hand feeding the stud cattle and brood mares when necessary, or in times of drought. Emily had known Wyuna only as an investment property.

Phillip was now shifting his family into their new life, on the huge Jooloonga cattle station, with added enterprises such as the famous Hereford Stud and the breeding of thoroughbred racehorses. Thoroughbreds selected for their appropriate attributes were sent to the Willow Park Stables in Sydney for training. Phillip had inherited the multimillion-dollar enterprise from his mother Emily.

Phillip turned as his daughter Susannah Ruth, eighteen, and known simply as Ruth, entered the room. She had long silky, dark hair that shone red in the sun, and dark, dominating eyes. She was tall and elegant like her mother Colleen, with a keen aptitude for learning and full of self-confidence.

‘Hi Dad, what are you doing? You must have seen this old trophy room a thousand times.’

Phillip put his arm around her shoulders, for she stood close, looking up at the dream tale. She had noticed him reading it in quiet concentration while standing in the doorway before walking forward.

‘You never mentioned this before Dad, this special tale that Grandmother must have deemed important enough to spend a great deal of money on calligraphy and framing.’

Phillip rubbed his chin in brief reflection. ‘Ruth,’ he said softly, ‘I thought it would be soon enough when my children actually asked about it. My mother had good intentions but the whole concept was never implemented.’ He took a deep breath before continuing.

‘It was hanging here one night when Steve and I returned after being away for several days with all of you.’

‘So she guessed where you and Steve were going, and wanted to make amends?’

‘No, I swear she didn’t know a thing until the day she died when she recognised Martin. Remember, he was working here over the Easter break. Martin does not seem to resemble family, so must have the look of some lost relative for her to recognise him so easily.’

‘Okay Dad, but do you know why we all missed out on so much? This should have been our home since the day we were born.’

‘Why, you ask. I just couldn’t take the chance. Your grandmother used to have dangerous psychotic episodes if forced to deal with…’

‘With the indigenous race?’ she finished

Phillip nodded. ‘The only answer was a double life.’

Ruth smiled sweetly. ‘Well, I won’t have your worries when I fall in love.’

Ruth’s words were spoken in haste but with an inner knowledge. Phillip had the fleeting impression that his daughter had already fallen in love. If it was one of the jackaroos, he surely would have suspected, and the only neighbours they had were the Clarkes who now owned both Wandara and Moorooba Downs Stations. No way, he must have his signals crossed.

Chapter 1

The fairground abuzz with Carnival folly

Where town and country en masse without quarry

Where excellence abides for equine pursuits

Where country endeavours agreeably commute

Where the life-blood of Land - is the life-blood of Man.

R uth met Douglas Clarke from Wandara Station at the Royal Easter show in Sydney soon after Grandma Emily had died. The stud bulls and cows from Jooloonga Station were already in Sydney with three young men to take care of them, but without sufficient help or expertise to organise and parade the cattle for judging. Phillip and his first born, Steven, held the enormous task of organising the funeral of their mother and grandmother respectively, the matriarch of Jooloonga Station, Emily Rebecca Parry. There would be many distinguished people from all walks of life attending. Representatives from the huge stud cattle industry and the racing industry Australia wide would be flying in from all corners of the cou ntry.

Phillip intended to withdraw the stud Herefords from competition and have them trucked back to Queensland immediately. Colleen, born and bred to the stud-cattle industry offered to fly to Sydney with the children, to organise the preparation and parading of the cattle for judging procedures and associated tasks such as promotion with the necessary photographs, documentation and media interviews.

Colleen was determined that Emily Parry’s funeral was not the place for Phillip Parry’s secret wife and five additional children to be introduced to the masses – even if the constraints of secrecy had been loosened with the death of the matriarch.

Martin aged twenty, who had practically been witness to his grandmother’s passing, as he’d been working anonymously at Jooloonga through the Easter break, had actually been conversing with his grandmother (without her knowledge of his identity, or so he thought) a short time before her death. He flew immediately to Brisbane where he joined his mother Colleen, his three sisters, and their baby brother. They’d driven from Wyuna near Murlong to the airport.

Douglas Clarke made himself known to Jooloonga’s entourage while they were preparing the cattle for judging. Ruth just eighteen, wearing old jeans and a loose shirt, was helping Martin groom one of their largest bulls when Douglas poked his head into the stalls.

‘Hi, I’m Douglas Clarke, your neighbour from Wandara and Moorooba Downs stations. I don’t believe I’ve seen such an enormous bull.’

‘We grow them big on Jooloonga,’ Martin said and stopped to shake hands. ‘I’m Martin O’Halloran, no I should say Parry,’ he corrected with a wry grin. He gestured towards Ruth who glanced at him with laughing eyes over his blunder. ‘And this is my sister Susannah Ruth.’

Douglas seemingly had no reaction to the confusion over names. Ruth looked at the man with his refined features – thick dark brows and coppery skin, wearing a flat-crowned, wide-brimmed hat with a cord under the chin. An image of the swashbuckling Mexican-American fiction hero Zorro, immediately flashed into her mind.

‘Delighted to meet you both.’ He pushed the gaucho-style leather hat off his forehead. A rush of wavy brown hair fell onto his brow. He looked at Martin with his large build, sandy hair and blue eyes, in total contrast to the slim dark-haired lass in sun glasses, athletic-looking in the way she brushed the huge beast with quick deft strokes.

‘I had no idea at the extent of the Parry family,’ came the cultured voice with an English element to the accent.

‘Really,’ Ruth answered, without stopping her activity with the brush. ‘I guess the stud breeders around here will fill you in about the coming of the second family. The word has spread – Colleen O’Halloran-Parry and her brood have attracted many inquiring minds.’

Martin gave her a challenging look, which said: Be quiet Susannah Ruth.

Douglas pretended not to notice. ‘I met Rebecca and Mary attending to a couple of this big fellow’s females.’ He nodded at the bull. ‘They were at the wash bay having a wonderful time. I’m not sure which species, bovine or human was actually having a bath.’ His grey eyes sparkled with good humour, his teeth showing pearly white against the coppery skin as he smiled - ‘Pretty girls, one a red head and the other a brunette.’

‘Our twin sisters,’ Martin said, ‘and I did warn them if they played up one more time, they would forfeit their right to lead in the big parade.’

‘I’m sure your little brother would take their place. He’s practising the art of leading as I speak.’

‘You sure?’ Martin asked. ‘He’s supposed to be with Mum, and I know she’s at the judging ring with a couple of heifers.’

Douglas put his hand out – ‘About so tall, blond with blue eyes, about seven, with a kid’s cowboy outfit, wearing a large Jooloonga belt buckle featuring a Hereford bull.’

Ruth threw the brush down. ‘Show me where he is, please Douglas. I’ll wring his little neck if he’s put a rope around the new calf. There was an unexpected birth just after the cattle arrived, several days ago. Apparently, one of the lads loaded an extra female, one that should have been obviously pregnant, and certainly not destined for the highlights of the Royal Easter Show.’

Douglas laughed. ‘These things happen Susannah Ruth,’ he said with a sparkle in his grey eyes, his whole demeanour one of merriment, blending with the general atmosphere of the showgrounds. The loud jaunty music from side-show alley permeated the air with jollity, melding with the buzz of the young having fun, seeping into one’s psyche, dissolving irritations like a breath of fresh air.

Ruth certainly had a keen interest in the neighbouring Clarke family as Douglas led her away. He towered over her with his height, at least six feet two inches. She hadn’t seen such a good-looking man in a long time. She especially noticed the high cheekbones and deep-set eyes with thick lashes, hooded by the generous black brows. The expressive thick lips held an ever-twitching smile at the corners when he spoke. He was broad, well muscled, and clothed in Australian designer gear with his gaucho hat, black jeans, tan leather coat and stylish R.M. Williams boots. Susannah Ruth Parry’s admiration was profound. She in turn wished she hadn’t been caught with her long dark hair in a pony tail, with no make up – her eyes hidden behind dark glasses and dressed in clothes only fit for the cattle stalls.

Douglas stopped. ‘Susannah Ruth, you’re not really going to strangle your little brother, are you?’ His smile was as much in his eyes as on his mouth.

Ruth looked at him closely. Yes, she thought, a charming man this neighbour. She wondered at his heritage – Spanish, Greek or indigenous Australian; but he had a polished English accent. She didn’t have a clue.

Ruth laughed back at him. ‘I certainly will!’ She saw Jason (out of the corner of her eye) with the bull calf, trying to pull him along with a rope. ‘The little rat!’ She ran towards Jason.

At the same moment they heard the splintering of timber; a cow bellowed, a loud threatening roar of pure emotion. They heard the pounding of hooves. Douglas rushed forward, but too late. Jason and Ruth were lying on the ground. Jason was screaming but unhurt. Ruth lay still and pale.

A crowd gathered. One of them went for the ambulance parked in the arena. The cow bolted with the calf beside her, dragging the rope. Martin came rushing when he heard the commotion and picked Jason up and held him. He looked on as Douglas knelt beside Ruth. He took her slim wrist.

‘Her pulse is normal.’

‘What happened?’ Martin asked, white as a sheet himself from the shock.

‘The cow broke from her stall to get to her calf and knocked Jason and Ruth flying. It seemed to happen in the space of seconds.’

They heard the ambulance siren. ‘Thank God,’ Martin murmured. Jason hung around Martin’s neck, still crying softly.

Ruth’s hair had come loose and spread across her face and fanned over her shoulders. Douglas pushed it away from her eyes. He’d only seen hair of that hue once before – black and red mixed as one – dark mahogany, like burnished coals. He thought the coincidence too great to be chance; and of course, he’d read the truth in the old diaries. Susannah Ruth Parry was related to the one whose crowning glory was now turning grey. The lashes were also identical when the grey-haired one was young. He could remember black lashes against the creamy skin – long and curling on the ends. This girl of course did not have creamy skin, but a golden brown complexion that added to her exotic appearance.

Ruth’s youthful, slim body lay twisted to one side showing softly rounded curves. In a glimpse Douglas saw a beauty so incredible, so tantalising, he felt it in the pit of his being. He very tenderly felt Ruth’s skull without moving her, finding a huge lump. His guess was she had been knocked out. Douglas was leaning close and gently called her name. People were gathering. Ruth opened her eyes. He had to repel the urge to stare into the inky depths that commanded attention, even when dulled by pain.

‘Susannah Ruth,’ he whispered, holding her hand, ‘can you move your fingers and toes?’ She looked at him through a haze but she moved the digits on her hands and feet. ‘You’re going to be all right Susannah,’ he murmured, close to her ear, ‘and your name suits you beautifully – you are the beautiful golden flower with black eyes – my black-eyed Susan.’

Martin looked on in disbelief. Who did this fellow think he was, some gallant cavalier, rescuing the poor maiden in distress? Martin was about to step forward when the blast of a siren hit his eardrums and the ambulance was there in seconds. One officer shifted the crowd while the other immediately started working on Ruth. They told her not to move and placed her in a neck brace. As soon as they were sure she had no broken limbs, she was lifted onto a stretcher and into the ambulance.

Douglas looked at Martin. ‘I’d be glad to go with her to the hospital if you like.’

Martin’s answer was to shove his little brother into Douglas’s arms and step into the ambulance himself. ‘I bet you would! She’s my sister,’ he stated emphatically, scowling at Douglas. ‘I can see my mother coming up behind that crowd over there.’ He pointed. Jason wriggled free and began running towards Colleen. The ambulance took leave for the hospital close-by.

Ruth’s siblings crowded around her hospital bed in the private room that night. Colleen had been there all day. ‘Who is looking after the cattle?’ she asked weakly.

‘Douglas Clarke is helping,’ Martin told her. ‘He can’t seem to do enough for us. This morning he paraded our two largest prize-winning bulls for the television cameras. He handled them like a professional. I’ve used the soothing cane a few times while working at the Stud through holidays; but Douglas certainly has the knack. I’ve never seen bulls stand so quiet and to attention at the same time, simply by having their bellies rubbed with a stick. He answered the questions like a professional too with his polished accent. It was a great endorsement for Jooloonga.’

Ruth’s smile was wry. ‘I thought he was something special.’

Martin grinned. ‘I’m sure he feels the same way about you too, the way he was drooling over you at the accident.’

‘Ruthie has a boyfriend,’ Jason whined.

Colleen frowned with stern eyes at her youngest child. Jason decided to keep quiet.

‘Ruth,’ Colleen said, ‘the doctor said you must stay here for a couple of days. You’ve had a bad bump on the head, causing concussion, and they want to keep you under observation.’

‘I know. I was a bit out of it when they brought me in; but I feel okay now.’

Jason ran up beside the bed and grabbed her hand. ‘Ruthie, we love you. You’ve got to stay until you’re all better. I’m sorry I took the calf and that silly cow knocked you over.’

‘That’s okay little brother,’ Ruth soothed. ‘I promise I’ll stay until I get better.’

Jason smiled widely, showing the gap where he’d lost his first baby tooth. ‘I’ll tell Douglas you like him and you’re getting better, ’cause, he asked me to say hello for him and to give you a kiss.’ Ruth received a big sloppy kiss on her cheek.

The twins giggled and Martin stifled a laugh. Colleen remained tight lipped but her eyes were twinkling. She bent down and kissed Ruth goodnight. ‘We’ve got a big day tomorrow darling, so we’ll see you tomorrow night.’

‘I wish I could be there. I hate missing out.’

‘We’ll be thinking about you all day,’ Martin assured her, and the twins nodded.

‘We’ll be back tomorrow night Ruthie,’ Jason waved his fingers as they left.

Jason’s cute toothless grin stayed in Ruth’s mind for some time until her thoughts turned to Douglas as she drifted into a dreamy sleep.

The following morning Ruth had showered and was drying her hair in the sun, sitting on a small sofa on the tiny balcony off her private room. She looked over the railing at the mass of concrete paving surrounding the building. The noise of the city traffic droned in her eardrums like a million cicadas, or three million bees, with the added discomfort of obnoxious fumes pulsing from the exhaust pipes of all manner of vehicles, be they cars, motorbikes or trucks. She supposed the city folk took it all for granted and probably didn’t even hear the engine noise, the honking of horns and screeching brakes. She knew she could never live permanently in the city, even if she was going to university next year. She would always have the country to run back to whenever she felt the need for quietude, tranquillity and sanity.

Douglas arrived at the hospital at ten o’clock. He noticed, through the glass door in Ruth’s bedroom, that she was sitting on the balcony. She gave him a cheery wave and he came forward holding a native flower arrangement surrounded with twigs of gum leaves. The aroma of the bush floated in the city air with a distinctive eucalyptus scent.

‘Thank you Douglas.’ She placed it on the small table beside her and looked into his eyes. ‘How thoughtful to bring a little of the bush to this big city building. How did you know I was pining for the backwoods?’

He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Jason said you didn’t like missing out. I take it you like cows, or are you missing the bush carnival?’

‘Just the Royal Easter Show, I’ve never been here before; and it was a bush carnival yesterday all right, with Jason leading the parade.’

She motioned for him to sit beside her on the sofa.

‘Don’t be too hard on Jason,’ Douglas remarked, ‘he’s a great little fellow, just having a bit of trouble keeping up with his older siblings.’

‘I know. It must be frustrating for him, being so much younger.’

‘And how are you feeling Susannah? You still look a little pale.’

‘I’m okay thank you Douglas, a headache that’s all. I’ve been blaming that traffic out there; but it’s probably the aftermath of the accident.’

‘You surely must have lived in the city for a time while attending boarding school.’

‘Boarding school yes, but Toowoomba is hardly a huge city, more like a large country town. There was never any traffic noise. The school is surrounded by hectares of rolling lawns with garden beds. Some of the enormous shade trees are a hundred years old. It was one of the first schools on the Darling Downs where the squatters brought their children for an education. They take day students too of course. A lot of the Brisbane aristocracy send their daughters to the school to either give them a taste of the country or keep them from running wild in the city; and believe me, they are the trouble makers.’

‘Ah, tales of school days. I can barely remember them myself. You are so young Susannah, still a teenager.’

‘You don’t seem old to me,’ she said quickly, not knowing why she made such a comment. Colour suffused her cheeks. He must think she was giving him a line or wanted attention, talking like that.

He noticed her embarrassment and smiled kindly. He took her hands in his, which were warm and soft and it seemed natural and friendly and she felt comfortable.

‘Do you remember any of it Susannah?’

‘Mostly, I remember you being there, holding my hand, touching my head and this might sound silly but did you call me your black-eyed Susan?’

He squeezed her hands and smiled mischievously. ‘Oh yes, the moment I looked into the dark velvet of your eyes, with eyelashes curling onto your golden skin, a remarkable little flower, the black-eyed Susan immediately came to mind. It is a stunning native plant, a vine covered profusely with golden flowers with star-shaped petals and large black centres.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes. That flower was named for you Susannah,’ he murmured in his rounded English tones, the timbre of his voice low and tender. She smiled. Douglas reached to the little table and pulled a small bunch of the tiny flowers from the middle of the arrangement and placed them in her lap.

She caressed the small golden petals, and gently touched the velvety black centres. ‘Every time I see one of these twining their way around the bush or in the garden, I will think of you Douglas. Thank you so much.’

‘You’re very welcome Susannah.’

Her hand went to her brow. He could see the pain in her eyes.

‘How is that bump? I can do a very good scalp massage.’ He waved his hand towards the road. ‘All this traffic noise is adding to your stress.’

‘A scalp massage would be wonderful.’

He turned her around and placed a large cushion behind her back. He gently massaged her skull, noticing the lump was still quite large.

‘Oh keep doing that,’ she heard herself saying, astonished that she was openly endearing herself to someone who was a stranger the day before. She went with her feelings, instinctively knowing she was in her comfort zone and had nothing to fear from him. She couldn’t explain it and didn’t really want to analyse any of it.

The magic fingers of Douglas Clarke were gently kneading the surface of her scalp, up and down and around, releasing the tension with nimble proficiency, time and time again.

Ruth drifted into a state of complete relaxation. ‘I’m so tired,’ she murmured. The pain killers had kicked in at last and the massage had certainly helped.

‘I’ll help you back to your room Susannah.’

He plumped her pillows and tucked her in.

‘Why do you call me Susannah?’ she mumbled, half asleep. ‘I’m called Ruth.’

‘You will always be Susannah to me,’ he whispered. ‘You are the flower.’

She closed her eyes. She felt his lips brush her cheek, ever so tenderly, so softly it was barely a kiss. Her eyelids were too heavy to look at him but she smiled, and that is how she remained, sleeping with a smile. He covered her gently with a blanket. She still held the posy of golden flowers.

Colleen and the children came to visit again that evening. Ruth was lying peacefully in bed with a dreamy expression.

‘You look relaxed sweetheart,’ Colleen remarked. ‘How do you feel?’

‘I’m feeling a lot better. The headache has gone – just a bit dizzy when I walk around too much. The doctor told me the only cure for concussion is rest.’

‘That’s right darling, I’m glad you’re being sensible and in another couple of days we’ll be going home.’

They were all sitting on chairs around the bed. Martin pulled his a little closer. ‘I believe Douglas came to see you this morning?’

Ruth smiled. ‘Yes, I’m glad we met. I really like him’

‘I guessed as much,’ Martin scowled. ‘Douglas mentioned that he’d come to visit you and told me what an adorable sister I had. I’m sure that bloke has two personalities. He’s talking in that English, marble-in-the-mouth accent all the time; but I knew I’d seen him somewhere before, without the fancy clothes and accent.’

‘And now you remember?’ Ruth asked, very interested.

‘Yes, I’ve seen replays of him on television when he was playing footy for Australia and he’s still being interviewed for various reasons and he’s like any other football player – down to earth, broad Aussie accent. He is hero worshipped by the blokes at Uni who are into football. I’m telling you, he is one weird guy.’

‘Weird! Martin you are so very wrong,’ Ruth argued. ‘As for playing football, it must be somebody else with the same name.’

‘And identical looks?’ Martin raised his eyebrows. ‘Perhaps he has a twin.’

‘I like Douglas,’ Jason declared and folded his arms. ‘He took me into the arena with him and I helped him lead the cow.’

Becky had her view: ‘He could be an actor and is keeping in character for his next movie or play.’

‘If that’s the case, what’s he doing out in the mulga?’ Mary added.

‘That’s enough,’ Colleen said. ‘Who or what Douglas Clarke is or is not, is really none of our business. He is a pleasant neighbour who has helped us through a difficult time; and for that we are thankful. Now, no more please about Douglas.’

‘He gave me a wonderful massage,’ Ruth admitted and wished she hadn’t.

‘What!’ Martin quipped with an astonished expression.

‘For goodness sake! A scalp massage, like they do at the hairdressers. It was so relaxing. The tension from the accident simply vanished. His fingers were magic. I fell asleep, almost before he’d finished.’

‘Maybe he’s a hairdresser,’ Mary suggested.

‘I don’t think so,’ Colleen added. ‘A man who can work with stud cattle like he does is not a hairdresser.’

‘A man of many talents.’ Martin said light-heartedly. ‘We’ll all ask him tomorrow, who he is, what he is, and what his intentions are towards our sister.’

‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,’ Colleen scolded.

Ruth pushed herself up off her pillow and gave Martin a dirty look.

There was laughter all round, except for Ruth. She was now very quiet and subdued.

Colleen kissed Ruth goodnight. We’ll come by tomorrow after lunch darling. I want to talk to the doctor about taking you home the following day. We’re packing up tomorrow and the trucks will be there at daybreak the following morning. If you’re not well enough by then, we’ll stay as long as it takes.’

‘I’m sure I’ll be fine Mum.’

‘Okay darling, we’ll see you tomorrow.’

Jason gave her another sloppy kiss. This is from Douglas and me,’ he stated with his gawky smile.

The other three siblings all hugged their sister, and left. Ruth gave thanks for her loving family, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Douglas Clarke. She longed to see him again and something told her, their feelings were mutual.

Colleen spoke with the doctor the following day before she joined the family in Ruth’s room. ‘We’ve been watching her carefully, Mrs Parry. If there was internal bleeding, we would know by now. The concussion has subsided. She can go home but she must take it easy for a few more days and avoid stress.’

Colleen thanked the doctor and made her way to Ruth’s private room. The children were all on the small balcony soaking up the sun while they talked happily about the experience at the Easter show. They’d found enough chairs and Colleen joined Ruth on the small sofa.

‘Ruth will be fine to go home tomorrow,’ Colleen informed them all.

‘I want to go to Jooloonga to be with Daddy,’ Jason insisted.

‘Yes Mum,’ Rebecca pleaded. ‘At last we can be with Dad at Jooloonga. There is no old grandma anymore that doesn’t like us. It will be so cool living on a huge cattle station.’

‘Your father hasn’t said anything about us shifting in yet Rebecca,’ Colleen mentioned. ‘He hasn’t really had time, besides we would have to change planes in Brisbane. There is no direct flight to Boonaroo.’

‘That’s okay,’ Ruth agreed. ‘I’ll be able to see Douglas again.’

‘Ruth, he’s twice your age,’ Martin argued.

‘I think he’s nice,’ Mary added, ‘but he is a bit of a dandy with the marble in the mouth, and the fancy clothes.’

‘His entire wardrobe seems to be R.M. Williams, and that is country all the way,’ Ruth told Mary. ‘A dandy wouldn’t wear country clothing.’

‘Your father knows the family,’ Colleen said. ‘His brother used to wear a dress coat and top hat to the races, on the hottest of days.’

Martin grinned. ‘You’d all have a different impression if you watched footage of him playing football. He’s a dynamo on the field and he certainly loses the fancy talk when he’s doing an interview or a promotion – Douglas Clarke is a true-blue ocker when it suits him.’

‘We are getting off the subject,’ Colleen said. ‘I thought we’d be travelling back to Wyuna.’

‘We want to spend the holidays with Dad,’ Mary insisted. The other children nodded.

‘I’ll have to telephone your father, but I don’t see why it can’t be arranged.’

Ruth smiled. ‘It’s going to be super. We can live at the famous Jooloonga Station now.’

‘You’ve just got Douglas on the brain, who just happens to be the nearest neighbour,’ Martin quipped.

The others giggled, except Colleen. ‘Please, that is enough. I have something to tell you and you must listen.’

All eyes turned to Colleen. ‘I don’t want you to mention Douglas Clarke to your father. He has just buried his mother and does not need any further stress.’

‘Why would Dad be stressed?’ Ruth began.

‘Wait Ruth, and let me finish please. Your father has in the past deplored the Clarkes from Moorooba Downs for their cattle duffing pursuits and described the O’Shea brothers from Wandara Station as uncouth degenerates. In his view, Benjamin Clarke who married Miriam O’Shea, is nothing more than a cattle thief who speaks with an aristocratic English accent. There was a feud going on between the two families, started by Jonathon Clarke who fathered Douglas, (only one of the many scandals pertaining to the Clarke family that particular year); and peace came at the price of each family losing a life. Miriam is now the only O’Shea left, - the only one that is acknowledged, anyhow, and as I just said, she married Benjamin Clarke. I believe both properties, Moorooba Downs and Wandara belong to the Clarke family. I don’t know the details; and I’m not sure that I want to.’

Ruth frowned. ‘You can’t judge Douglas for what his father might have started and are you suggesting that Miriam O’Shea has secret relatives or something.’

‘I was simply thinking out-loud, when I mentioned that Miriam was the only acknowledged O’Shea left. There are a lot of secrets in that family, unmentionable rumours – definitely a family to avoid.’

‘Huh!’ Ruth remonstrated. ‘That is in the past. Douglas is a true gentleman. He calls me his black-eyed Susan. I love the way he treats me. He makes me feel so feminine and looked after. I like Douglas, as a friend, of course.’

‘Oh, my sweet, sweet black-eyed Susan,’ Martin mimicked, putting his head to one side with a loopy grin, ‘but of course, you’re just friends. When, may I ask, have you had time for anything else?’ he added bluntly.

Jason