Shadows Over Taralon Read online

  Jenny washed down her breakfast with a hasty mouthful of tea, rushed back into her room to grab her bathers, and then went outside.

  She stood a few seconds on the veranda just looking around. Taralon was a pretty place. Everything looked very green, with just enough bush around to give the grounds a park-like appearance.

  The horses were tethered by the veranda. Jenny let her mouth quirk up in a ready grin as she studied the solid chestnut mare with its high stockman’s saddle. Wayne must be using every precaution against her taking a fall from the horse! Everyone wore good quality riding helmets. John swung on to a shaggy raw-boned pony with its eyes nearly obscured by the heavy forelock. A resigned Shetland braced itself for Merry to clamber up. Allan, leading a packhorse, waited on a heavy-looking mare with placid eyes.

  “I’m leading, ’cause I have to show you everything around the property,” he explained.

  Jenny strapped on the riding helmet and swung into the saddle of the chestnut mare with the first feeling of real pleasure she had experienced since she had arrived. The sky was blue and the sun warm, and there was a spacious, untrammeled feeling about the countryside.

  “Wayne guessed the stirrups,” John volunteered. “Do you need them adjusted?”

  Jenny shook her head. They set off, with Merry trailing behind. Jenny’s first day of duty had started. This morning the children looked more wary than hostile. Merry seemed the first to relax when she admired the lambs, and John gradually became more talkative as he showed her the most important things around the property.

  Allan made them all detour to have a look at the new season’s foals, and Jenny nodded earnestly as John recited bloodlines. They skirted the big back paddock, and Jenny admired the new bull.

  “Dad paid $17,000 for him,” John volunteered.

  “Your Dad must have had a good season,” Jenny commented, suddenly aware of the lush pasture and the healthy coats of the grazing cattle.

  For a fleeting second John looked anxious and a lot older than his almost twelve years.

  “Yeah,” he said slowly.

  “But I still haven’t got my new saddle,” Allan grumbled.

  “Your old one is all right for jumping, and don’t start nagging Dad again or I’ll thump you.”

  Jenny hastily intervened. “Are we going somewhere we can swim for our picnic? Mrs. Harris reminded me to put in my bathers.”

  John volunteered the information that they had a special swimming spot at the river and Wayne had put up a new rope to swing on. Allan’s silence remained sullen.

  The narrow track wound over the hill and they closed the last gate on the boundary of Taralon. The denser bush closed around them. They rode in silence, broken by Merry’s shrill requests for them to wait all the time. The small, shaggy Shetland pony walked slower and slower, as he showed his disapproval of their excursion away from the comfort of his home paddock.

  Eventually, John swung down, threw his reins over to Allan to hold, tossed Merry up behind Allan and mounted the Shetland.

  “Giddup you brute,” he snapped.

  The pony rolled his eyes and, recognizing the firm hand, put his head down and broke into a frantic gallop past them to vanish up the track.

  “Plays up on Merry,” Allan sniffed, as the shaggy pony vanished around the bend. “He’ll behave himself for a while.”

  Much to Jenny’s amusement they cantered on after the Shetland, Merry clinging unconcernedly to Allan’s back. When they caught up and John lifted Merry back on to the small pony, the Shetland trotted meekly along beside them.

  They made better time down the winding track that led beside the river. Jenny concentrated on pushing her mare along. It was almost as sluggish as the Shetland if she didn’t keep it moving. She sensed the boys’ approval as they watched her battle with the mare and decided she had perhaps won through their wary reserve when John gave a satisfied nod.

  It was nearing noon before they broke through into a clearing. The river curved around in a wide slow bend, and a rocky outcrop protected a shallow pool with clean sand edging the bank.

  “We swim here when it’s hot enough,” Merry bragged.

  “Except you can’t swim yet,” Allan jeered.

  The horses made for the shade of a big gum, and the two boys unloaded the packhorse in a businesslike manner. Jenny swung down with a sigh of relief. It was months since she had ridden and unused muscles protested.

  Merry bustled around to collect twigs while Allan lit the fire. Soon a lazy curl of smoke came up, and John filled the billy at the water’s edge. Jenny unsaddled the horses and spread one of the rugs as a picnic rug.

  “You know about horses, Miss Fleming?” John asked.

  “Jenny,” she corrected. “I used to spend my holidays with an uncle who had a property when I was a kid.”

  There was a gradual lessening of the wariness. They nodded when she explained that her uncle only ran sheep, but he always had horses and she liked horses. By this time the sausages were sizzling in the pan and the billy was boiling.

  Jenny relaxed. It was a long time since she had tasted billy tea and sausages so nicely fried in the blackened pan. This was a lot better than being huddled over the endless figures in the musty accountant’s office at her last job.

  After they had eaten, Jenny promised Merry she could have her first swimming lesson as soon as her lunch had settled and after her afternoon nap. The two boys set up their fishing rods and sorted out their bait.

  The angling rods had been Christmas presents, John explained. Suddenly, Allan flared up again.

  “But Dad promised me the new saddle for jumping,” he burst out. “He’s broken his word.”

  “Ungrateful pig,” John yelled back and cuffed him.

  Picnic mugs and plates scattered as the two boys flew at each other, punching and kicking. Allan was smaller than John, but had a fiery temper that matched his hair. Jenny held the boys apart with difficulty. These sorts of problems never rose in the office of Alltwine and Witfords Accountancy.

  “I’m ashamed of you two,” she scolded. “Brothers should stick together, not fight.”

  “He’s got no right to nag Dad,” John ground out.

  “And Dad’s got no right to break his promises,” Allan retorted.

  “It’s none of Jenny’s business,” John warned.

  “He’s had a good season,” Allan flung back, but he sneaked a worried look at Jenny as he picked up his rod and lapsed into his silence again.

  The boys and their rods disappeared upstream around the first bend, past where the water rippled and frothed over the rocks. Jenny collected, washed and packed away the picnic things. She looked at the saddle she had taken from Allan’s horse. It was an old stock saddle, polished up and in good condition, but perhaps not very suitable for jumping with its high curved back and high pommel. Allan didn’t look like a spoilt child, but he certainly sounded it.

  The horses dozed under the tree, swishing their tails at the flies. Merry’s breathing became slower and more regular as she fell asleep on the rug. Jenny looked at her book and yawned. She leaned back and contemplated the ripples of the water, and the way the reflection of the trees shimmered and moved in it.

  Suddenly, the clearing seemed very quiet and isolated. She tensed. An extra shimmer of reflection among the trees looked like furtive movement. She scanned the opposite riverbank. The trees and bushes lined it thickly. For a few seconds she thought she glimpsed something moving. She sat and watched until her eyes ached with the strain, but nothing moved again.

  She reached for her book and started to read. It was hard to shake the feeling that unseen eyes were watching her. Several times she looked across at the other bank, but there was nothing to see.

  She glanced at the horses. They were alert and edgy, with their heads up snuffling the air and their ears forward. Suddenly, the deserted riverbank seemed sinister and dangerous, despite the bright afternoon sunlight. The sense of being watched grew stronger.

  T
he afternoon wore on. Merry slept and Jenny read on. She greeted the return of the anglers with relief. They were glum-faced and empty handed.

  The decision to have a quiet swim seemed unanimous. They all changed into their bathers. Jenny checked the water at the bend was shallow before giving Merry her first swimming lesson while the boys whooped and swung from the rope into the center of the river, their earlier disagreement put behind them. Jenny watched them closely, but even Allan seemed to be a totally confident swimmer, so she concentrated on teaching Merry to float.

  After a while, the boys decided that perhaps the water was still a bit too cold for too long a swim. Merry had to be persuaded that it was time to come out. They came out, dried, and dressed. Merry was very excited about her progress in swimming and her earlier wariness was forgotten as she chattered to Jenny about her next lesson.

  They saddled up and set off at a brisk trot, Merry’s little Shetland leading the way. Jenny heard the boys laugh out loud for the first time at the Shetland’s eagerness to get home. Her own spontaneous chuckle rang out as well but, even as she laughed, Jenny looked over her shoulder for a last glimpse of their picnic spot.

  Secretly she was glad to be leaving the river, and the vague unease that had shadowed her the whole afternoon lifted as they got further away from the river and closer to Taralon.

  Chapter Three

  The lights of the big house glowed through the dusk. The horses quickened into a headlong gallop to reach the veranda, the boys whooping as they encouraged their steeds.

  Jenny dismounted stiffly. A long red sports car was parked beside the big grey car.

  “Tony and Marise are here again,” John grumbled.

  Jenny looked at the disgust on both boys’ faces. Why did the boys dislike Marise and her brother? Surely they should accept Marise if she had been working at the property for so long?

  “I’m not going inside then,” Allan grumbled. “I’ll give you a hand with the horses.”

  “You should go in. Wayne will want to know we got back safely,” John suggested as Jenny prepared to follow them. “Merry will be okay with us.”

  “I’m supposed to be looking after you,” Jenny said doubtfully.

  “We can look after ourselves,” John said tersely. “We’re used to it!”

  Jenny hesitated, but the boys had already turned to lead the horses away, Merry still sitting on her small pony. The children had closed ranks at the sight of the red sports car and, once more, their faces were hostile and wary. She decided it was the wrong time to push herself with them, so she walked up the steps of the veranda.

  She hesitated at the top of the steps but Wayne called to her through the open French doors. She went into the brightly-lit lounge. The stooped figure of her employer stood with his back to the fireplace. A wedding photo with the smiling black-haired bride and the sandy-haired groom with his merry blue eyes was behind him on the mantelpiece.

  Jenny was shocked to realize how much Bill Williams must have aged since the death of his wife. His hands shook as they held his glass. Grief had stripped every vestige of the young man of the wedding photo away. His eyes were the same washed-out grey as his skin and hair and he gazed indifferently ahead of him. He gave Jenny a bewildered nod as she paused inside the door, as if he didn’t remember who she was.

  “The boys and Merry are unsaddling the horses and will be along later. They said they didn’t need any help,” Jenny explained to the room at large.

  “You have met Marise and Tony Bickerton,” Wayne said. He lounged back on the couch beside Marise.

  “Of course,” Jenny agreed.

  Looking at Marise, Jenny immediately felt untidy and disheveled. The ride back had caused her hair to cascade down her back in tangled curls. She was aware that her face was innocent of any makeup and her shirt hung out over her slacks.

  The original impression of Marise and her shining perfection was intensified at this second meeting. Marise wore a severe red silk blouse and grey tailored culottes and despite the white cast on her leg managed to look elegant and at ease.

  “It’s nice to see a new face.” Tony rose from his chair as he spoke.

  He also had an elegant gloss to him, from his shining blonde hair, his smooth tanned skin, and the flashing white of his smile. There was open admiration in his eyes as he looked down at her. In contrast to his sister, he radiated friendliness and good humor. “Would you like a drink, Jenny?”

  “Make it a lemon squash,” Wayne suggested.

  “A small cream sherry, thank you,” Jenny said, irritated at the too-smooth suggestion from Wayne.

  She gave Tony her trusting wide smile. How dare Wayne try to dictate what she drank as if she was a child! Tony obediently brought across the small glass of sherry and put a friendly arm across her shoulders as he steered her towards a two-seater lounge.

  “Come and tell me all about yourself,” he coaxed. “You don’t look old enough to be allowed out without a keeper, much less be able to hold down a job that kept Marise flat out.”

  Marise gave a malicious chuckle. “Don’t get your head turned by Tony, little Jenny Wren, even if a new face is a novelty.”

  Jenny managed a polite smile. Tony’s hazel eyes went hard. He gave his sister a smoldering stare, but she had turned her back on him to murmur something to Wayne.

  “The boys took you for a picnic, did they?” Tony asked. “What do you think of the countryside?”

  His arm was still draped casually across her shoulders in an almost proprietary manner. Jenny tried to ignore it. Tony seemed a naturally friendly person, and there was no way she could ease away from him on the small couch without drawing attention to her action.

  “We ended up at a place called Panniken Bend,” she explained. “The water was a bit cold, but we all went swimming. The boys played on the rope, and Merry had her first swimming lesson. The boys seem quite confident in the water though. I guess they have had plenty of practice swimming.”

  For a fraction of a second, Tony’s pleasant expression faded, leaving a suspicious shadow on his face.

  “Panniken Bend,” he said slowly. “Not a very safe place. The river is still deep in places and treacherous. There are less dangerous places to swim for a newcomer to the district.”

  Jenny hesitated. It was on the tip of her tongue to make a passing allusion to the sense of being watched at Panniken Bend. There was an odd pause. She had the impression that Wayne was suddenly tense and listening carefully. Marise had turned her head and watched her too, a curious glint in her hazel eyes.

  Jenny plunged into conversation again. “I would have supposed there would have been a lot more water around. By the look of the property, it’s been a good winter for rain.”

  “Yes, we have all had quite a good season,” Wayne said in a dry voice.

  Bill Williams scowled, and lines of worry and anxiety deepened on his face. “A very good season,” he echoed hollowly.

  Jenny flushed, and wondered desperately what she had said wrong to bring such an odd mood to the assembled company. The look in Marise’s eyes was calculating, and her brother looked uncomfortable.

  “The boys spent the afternoon fishing, without success,” she almost gabbled. “Are there really any fish in the river?”

  The atmosphere lightened, and the conversation turned to fishing, and the respective merits of various flies and correct bait. Then the conversation turned back to horses and the forthcoming race meeting. Jenny was surprised to learn that the Bickertons and Bill Williams had entered horses.

  “Black Prince is coming along nicely,” Tony bragged cheerfully. “He is going to give Pretty Boy a run for his money this year.”

  Bill Williams roused himself to speak. “I don’t know,”’ he said doubtfully. “Gwenda thought...” His voice trailed off and the bewildered look returned to his eyes.

  “Gwenda did a magnificent job of getting Pretty Boy ready for the meeting,” Wayne said heartily. Too heartily, Jenny thought. “Of course, Gwend
a expected Pretty Boy to beat Black Prince at the next meeting.”

  “Gwenda worked very hard to bring Pretty Boy up to form,” the older man said proudly. Then he lapsed into silence and the light died out of his eyes again.

  At this moment, Mrs. Harris entered the room. She nodded to Bill Williams but addressed herself to Wayne.

  “Dinner is nearly ready, and are Marise and Tony staying?”

  Marise exchanged a glance with Tony. Some decision was arrived at.

  “Thanks for the invite, but we really have to get back.” Marise put a firm hand on Wayne’s arm. “Help me up, Wayne.”

  Mrs. Harris left the room. Marise collected her crutches and managed to stand, swaying against Wayne, a tall girl with shining fair hair, and an inviting curve to her red lips. She swung across the room with Wayne beside her. Bill Williams didn’t move, his faded eyes still gazing into space. Wayne opened the French doors more widely and there was a low intimate chuckle from Marise as he picked her up and carried her down the steps.

  Tony dropped his arm around Jenny’s waist and pulled her against him, ignoring the absent gaze of his host.

  “There are a lot more interesting places to visit around the district than Panniken Bend,” he said easily. His head was so close to Jenny that she could smell the whisky on his breath. “What about it, Jenny Wren? I’d like to show you around.”

  “When I have some spare time, perhaps,” Jenny said, keeping the smile on her lips with an effort.

  She had started to feel uncomfortable. Tony was still smiling, but his hazel eyes had hardened at her evasive answer. He held her much too tightly against him for a casual acquaintance. She glanced at her employer but he didn’t appear to notice them. Tony lowered his head even closer so that his lips brushed hers. She tried to pull back, but the arm around her waist was iron hard.

  “We’re sure to have a lot in common,” he murmured. “So don’t keep me waiting too long, little Jenny.”

  There was almost a veiled warning in his voice. Jenny stiffened against the pressure of his arm. She decided that it might not be a good idea to give the over-friendly Tony any encouragement. He read too much into her determination to be polite. Before she could say anything however, Wayne had returned and spoke, his voice dry.