Outback Wives Wanted!. Margaret Way
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darlin'!” Her father sat up straight. “I’m a bit hazy on it myself. You go off now and enjoy yourself. God knows, you deserve a bit of pleasure.”
Alana glanced at her watch. She had to go, or she would be running late. She had intended taking the car—the air-conditioning in the ute was on the blink—but now she changed her mind. “I’ll take the ute. You take the car,” she suggested, in her usual generous fashion. Her father didn’t know the air-conditioning in the ute was shot. There was so much he didn’t know or care about.
“Doesn’t matter to me, darlin',” Alan Callaghan said. ‘You’re all dressed up. You take it.”
“The car will suit you better,” she replied. Alan Callaghan was six-three, like his son, and his skin had a peculiar flush. “I’m fine in the ute.” She bent to kiss his cheek, resting one hand on his shoulder. “You have clean shirts in your wardrobe, all ironed. Blue always looks so nice on you. Take care now, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too, my darlin',” Alan Callaghan said, rising to his feet, then going to the verandah balustrade to wave her off.
Alana saw pleasure leap into Rose’s eyes as she walked towards her. Rose was already seated at the table, having arrived some minutes earlier. She jumped up to hug and kiss her cousin.
“Oh, isn’t this great? I’m so happy to see you, Lana,” she said in her affectionate way. “You look gorgeous—as usual. Très chic! You’re easily the most stunning girl in the Valley. It puts Vi’s nose out of joint I can tell you.” She giggled.
“Is it any wonder I love you so much?” Alana asked indulgently. Rose herself looked a picture, in a designer dress that must have cost the earth. Her Italian handbag alone would have set her trust fund back a few thousand dollars. With maybe another thousand or more tied up in the shoes. The Denby girls weren’t cheap dressers. They were fashion icons. In fact Alana rarely saw them in the same thing twice.
Predictably, they had been allotted one of the restaurant’s best tables, beside the huge floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows. The building was shaded by extensive covered verandahs that commanded a splendid view over the sun drenched vale of vines that marched in precise lines right up to the base of the green foothills. What a visual delight! Alana felt herself calming. It was marvellous paintable country! The ripened chardonnay grapes were to be harvested at any moment, which accounted for the palpable air of expectancy that permeated the air, and it was a sparkling scene laid out for their delectation beneath a shimmering blue sky.
“You’re going to have a glass of wine, aren’t you?” Rose asked, fixing her cousin with her huge, heavily lashed blue eyes.
Rose was so very, very pretty, Alana thought. Rather like the pin-up girls of old, with her thick blonde hair cut in a bob and her rosebud mouth painted fire-engine-red. And she was sweet. She’d be perfect for Simon. Even the Draconian Rebecca couldn’t object that much to Rose Denby.
“Just the one, Rose,” Alana said with a smile. “I’m driving.”
“Simon is going to run me home,” Rose confided, looking just the faintest bit anxious, as if Alana might have some objection. “We’ll soon be working together.” She held up a hand. “You can’t tell him yet, it’s not set in stone, but Guy has offered me a job.”
“That’s your news?” Alana wondered at the reason behind Guy’s sudden action.
“Yes!” Rose came across as thrilled. “I think it’s right down my alley, but I wanted to get your take on it. You’re the one with the good head on your shoulders. I’m a twit.”
“That’s not right, Rose,” Alana protested right away. Pretty as she was, Rose didn’t have a lot of self-esteem. “When did you stop believing in yourself? You were an excellent student.”
“Sure!” Rose sighed, looking away, across the luxuriant vineyard. “It’s hard to believe in yourself with sisters like mine. They gang up on me, those two. I know I was good at school but I’ve never amounted to anything, have I? You’ve been working your butt off since Aunt Belle died. People speak of you with such admiration. They dismiss me with a little knowing nod—airhead, featherbrain, fluttery little playgirl.”
“Hey, that’s not true!” Alana caught her cousin’s hand and shook it. “You’re so hard on yourself, Rose. You’re not reaching out, that’s all. You can do things. You don’t have to party all the time. I think it’s great Guy has offered you a job. I’m so happy for you.”
“You always did have a lot more faith in me than anyone else.” Rose leaned across the table, speaking in such a confidential voice that all the people in the huge room might have been dead set on eavesdropping. “I’ll be the PR person. I wouldn’t be waiting tables or anything like that. Mummy and Daddy would have a fit. It’s the social scene I’m good at, but I suddenly realise I want a job. I think it’s a dumb mistake, the way I’ve been living the life of a playgirl. Just like you said, I want to do something. Not something terribly serious, or really hard work, like you, but something I can enjoy. Something I can shine at. I’m good with people. Unlike my snooty sisters, people seem to like me.”
“Well, there’s a very good reason for that, Rose,” Alana said. “You have charm. You’re lovely to look at. You’re warm, friendly, intelligent. If you knew anything about mustering sheep I’d hire you myself. But you know everything about the Valley. And you’ve been just about everywhere in the world, so you can relate to all the overseas tourists. I think you’d be great! Congratulations. I’m proud of you.”
Guy’s hand is behind everything, Alana thought.
Rose blushed. “Gosh, it makes me happy to hear you say that, Lana. Guy has faith in me too. That means such a lot. I won’t let you down. I’ll be organising tours of the estate, making sure everything is working smoothly. I expect my duties will grow—Guy said it’s up to me. And I can help Simon in the office when I have the time. I’ve always had a soft spot for Simon, but he can’t see anyone outside you,” she lamented.
Alana shook her head. “Rose, it’s high time I told you I have no romantic interest in Simon. None whatsoever. We’re pals.”
Rose blinked, clearly having difficulty accepting what Alana had just said. “But Vi has been telling everyone you two are just biding your time before you get married. Simon’s mother is a bit of a pain in the neck, no?” Rose looked at Alana sympathetically. Rebecca Radcliffe, The Widow, had terrified her as a child. Rebecca looked just like the wicked stepmother in her illustrated book of Snow White.
“You’re not listening, Rosie.” Alana placed her hand over her cousin’s, giving it several little emphasising taps. “I-am-not-and-never-will-be-in-love-with-Simon.”
“Oh, thank you—thank you!” Rose put a hand to her breast, as if she was about to have a heart attack. “Just when I thought you were two steps away from the altar.”
“I’m two steps away from punching Vi in the nose,” Alana said as though ready to do it.
“But he worships you.” Rose could barely take in this new development.
“He would worship you if you played your cards right.” Alana looked her cousin directly in the eye.
“But this is crazy! Lana, don’t torture me. I’m already hyperventilating. You really don’t want him?”
Alana picked up the leatherbound menu, which was quite extensive. She studied it for a moment before answering. “As a husband, no; as my lifelong pal, yes. I’d be excited to be a god-mother, though. Maybe chief bridesmaid before that. Don’t take any notice whatsoever of anything Vi says. She’s a born trouble-maker, I’m afraid.”
“You’re telling me!” Rose huffed. “And Lil’s just the same. It will blow up in their faces one day.”
Simon was thrilled