Olivia's Awakening. Margaret Way
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be an idea if you tried to lighten up a little. You’re not at home now. Bring a couple of the smaller pieces. What you most need. I’ll get someone to collect the rest and fly it back to the station.”
Olivia lifted a delicate shoulder. He was making her feel rather foolish. Pompous to boot. “As you wish.”
“Forget the safari—you couldn’t have brought more if you were boarding the QE2 for a trans-Atlantic trip.”
“I’ve brought nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you.” She turned away, to save face, picking out two pieces of luggage and her small make-up box. She had brought lashings of sunblock.
“Right, now we can get under way.” He hoisted her two pieces of luggage—quite heavy, in fact—and tucked one under his arm, carrying the other as easily as if it were a cardboard box. “I have a city apartment,” he told her in an offhand manner. “We’ll take a cab there.”
She reacted with a frown. “What for?”
He gave her a brief, impatient glance. “Certainly not wild sex, if you had that in mind. There’s a helipad on the roof. The complex was built by one of the McAlpine companies. We’re going by helicopter.”
“Oh!” She gave a nonchalant wave of the hand to cover immense flurry. Wild sex? Lead me not into temptation. “That’s OK. I’ve travelled by helicopter before. My father owns an island retreat in the Caribbean.”
“Squillions could only dream of owning one!” he cried satirically. “Good, then you won’t be nervous. Your father is a very rich man.”
“I believe you are so regarded.”
Unexpectedly he gave her one of his slashing smiles. “How quaint! So regarded! But should that worry me?”
She abruptly exploded. He was looking at her as though she was stuck in a time warp. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Money is a powerful aphrodisiac,” he pointed out.
As though she needed to be told that. “You’ll be pleased to know I have absolutely no interest in you, Mr McAlpine, romantic or otherwise.” So why was she feeling decidedly hot. There was the possibility if he so much as touched her she could go up in flames.
“For the record, that makes two of us, Ms Balfour. Anyway, no offence, but you’re a little too buttoned up for me.”
She didn’t deign to reply. On the other hand she was unexpectedly dismayed. Buttoned up, was she? In her view she had always been so well behaved that she should have been given a medal. The lift arrived, unloading two smiling guests and a porter with a luggage trolley.
“I’ll take those Mr McAlpine,” the porter said. “You’re going to the helipad?”
“Yes, thank you, Arnold,” McAlpine said with a smile.
“Beautiful day for flying.”
“Perfect!”
“Good gracious!” Olivia burst out in surprise as she looked towards the waiting helicopter where a group of men were standing.
“You can’t back out now, Ms Balfour,” McAlpine told her with a mocking sideways glance.
“I didn’t mean that at all. I’m actually looking forward to the flight. It’s the helicopter. I’ve never seen one like it before.”
“Goodness, and I thought you’d seen everything. Maybe not done everything.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Her tone, had she known it, was cool on the way to arctic. Victorian, really.
“A fairly harmless remark, I would have thought. What you’re looking at—what we’ll be flying in—is the newest addition to McAlpine Aviation which has a three-state charter. The Territory, Western Australia and Queensland. You may not know—then again you might, as I suspect you’re a very well-read woman—Qantas, the national carrier, spells out Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Services. It was founded in 1920 and it’s actually the oldest continuously operating airline in the English-speaking world.”
“I did fly Qantas from Singapore,” she said, finding herself caught up in the story.
“At the time of our worst cyclone ever—Cyclone Tracy which devastated Darwin—Qantas established a world record when six hundred and seventy-three people were evacuated on a single Boeing 747. I was just three at the time but I vividly remember it.”
“The cyclone or the flight?” She shaded her eyes to look up at him. It was surprisingly good to have to look up at a man. Even if it was McAlpine.
“Both. My family has always had a keen interest in aviation. My grandfather, Roscoe McAlpine, established McAlpine Aviation. General air charter, jet charter, helicopter, freight. Supporting government agencies with fire and flood operations. That kind of thing. We’ve grown exponentially since Granddad’s day. He would have been so proud. The irony is he was killed in a light aircraft crash when he was a very experienced pilot who had flown hundreds of hours in very hazardous conditions.” He shrugged fatalistically, but Olivia could see the hidden grief.
“Am I the only passenger?” she asked, looking uncertainly towards the waiting men.
“Do you need reassurance? They’re not cattle rustlers. All three are company employees. They’re coming with us,” he supplied briefly.
And pray tell exactly where?
She had the sense not to ask.
Words simply could not describe her feelings as Olivia looked down at the primeval wilderness that was to be her home for the next five months. It would be fair to say she was shocked out of her mind.
Dear God! she prayed fervently. How am I going to be able to withstand it?
God answered very promptly. Buck up!
The famous early explorers of this continent— splendid, intrepid men of British stock—would have quailed at the prospect of having to transverse such a place, which looked to her distraught eyes like no other kind on earth. What lay beneath her had to be one of the last remaining great wilderness areas on the planet.
There was no sign of human intervention, let alone habitation, apart from the lonely cluster of white buildings that looked like an outback version of Stone-henge. Extraordinary as it may appear, she couldn’t think she would enjoy her stay at all. This vast landscape glowed as fiery as Mars, the red soil held together by what looked like giant pincushions in the most amazing shades of burnt gold and burnt orange. And she with the English-rose complexion! She would probably shrivel up in a matter of days.
Don’t allow yourself to get fazed.
She knew it was extremely important to maintain order of the mind. Order, after all, was the bedrock of her being. She was a Balfour and a Capricorn to boot.
The two men McAlpine had taken on board were fortyish, lean outback characters in cowboy regalia. Both looked as if they could easily wrestle a bullock to the ground, but they were most courteous and soft spoken when introduced. They sat up close to McAlpine, the boss, often exchanging remarks in unison. The “great minds think alike” syndrome, she thought.
She had been allotted a seat in the farthest row, deciding there and then she wouldn’t let McAlpine see how the sight of his ancestral home was affecting her. She realised everyone couldn’t live in a stately home but this rather beggared belief.
She wouldn’t have need of any of the nice things she had brought with her. They would be as out of place in these surroundings as one of Bella’s outlandish sequinned party dresses.
Bella, oh, Bella, what did we do? She hoped her twin—she was missing her dreadfully—didn’t feel as scared as she did.
What are you scared of? McAlpine?