don’t have anything special on.’
‘Not this weekend. I’d love to.’
From that day on Bren spent as much time as he could with Vanessa, monopolising every spare hour whenever he could get away with it.
Sometimes they did ordinary things, like shopping or just walking along the path that bordered the Thames, or wandering through Hyde Park or Kew Gardens.
Bren’s ongoing worry that she’d get tired or bored with his company, didn’t eventuate and, as each date led to another, he got the chance to know the real Vanessa, not the stage and public persona she donned for the media and theatre-goers. He wasn’t a worldly man but he knew one thing: because of her experience with David — the unhappiness it had caused — he would have to win her trust before he could win her heart.
CHAPTER FOUR
D espite his broad-rimmed hat, Curtis shaded his eyes from the glare of the sun as the chopper, an expensive McDonald Douglas MD Explorer, circled twice before setting down on the runway next to their own chopper. Damn, and several unkind thoughts sprang to mind straight away as he recognised the craft. His uncle hadn’t bothered to learn how to fly so he employed a pilot to swan him around, wherever and whenever he wanted. Well, he thought dourly, the old moneybags could afford it. Their seasoned but well-maintained Cessna they used for checking the herd and travel to and from Kununurra and Darwin was parked in the cavernlike tin shed, affectionately called the hangar.
So … dear Uncle Stuart was deigning to pay Amaroo a visit. He didn’t have time to entertain rellies, there was too much to do and who knew when Bren would be back. His brother should be here doing his share, not leaving it all up to him and Reg, not gallivanting overseas to chase Vanessa what’s her name! Boots dragging in accordance with his level of enthusiasm, he walked towards the chopper.
He watched Stuart exit from the chopper and wave. The pilot got out on the other side, as did another person. Curtis gave a low whistle through his teeth. She was back, Nova Morrison, Reg’s prodigal daughter. Those swaying hips, her cheeky look-at-me saunter, was Nova’s trademark walk, and one he’d recognise anywhere. He rubbed the two-day-old stubble along his jawline as he thought, how long had it been since she’d been at Amaroo? Two years, maybe longer.
‘Hello,’ he shouted to them over the chopper’s diminishing whine and mentally put aside the list of things he’d planned to do today. He would be lucky to get half of them done now. Fixing a welcoming grin to his lips, he continued on towards them.
‘Ooohh, Curtis.’ Nova ran the last three metres between them and hugged him exuberantly. ‘You haven’t changed one bit,’ she purred. ‘You’re still the handsomest Selby, you know.’
Curtis gave a deprecating laugh. ‘And you’re still an outrageous flatterer, Nova. How are you doing?’
‘Very well.’ She preened herself against him, standing as tall as she could, which brought her up to the middle of his chest. ‘I brought my degree in Arts-Science to show Dad, proof it was worth what it cost him. Since uni I’ve been working my way around, doing casual stuff, waitressing, bar work, hospitality receptionist shit, you know. In Sydney, Perth, and more recently, Broome.’ She glanced towards Stuart. ‘Bumped into your uncle in Dampier Street and he offered me a lift home.’ Nova’s smile showed a set of perfect teeth. She smiled a lot when she was talking to a man. ‘I said yes ’cause I thought it time for a visit.’
‘Hi, Curtis,’ Stuart greeted his nephew. They shook hands. ‘You know Rolfe Weston, my pilot?’
‘Yeah. Hi.’ Undiplomatically, Curtis came straight to the point. ‘What brings you to Amaroo, Stuart?’
‘Just a social call. Haven’t been here since …,’ he cleared his throat, ‘since Matthew died.’
‘Let’s get out of the sun,’ Nova suggested, attempting to break the underlying tension
‘Not this weekend. I’d love to.’
From that day on Bren spent as much time as he could with Vanessa, monopolising every spare hour whenever he could get away with it.
Sometimes they did ordinary things, like shopping or just walking along the path that bordered the Thames, or wandering through Hyde Park or Kew Gardens.
Bren’s ongoing worry that she’d get tired or bored with his company, didn’t eventuate and, as each date led to another, he got the chance to know the real Vanessa, not the stage and public persona she donned for the media and theatre-goers. He wasn’t a worldly man but he knew one thing: because of her experience with David — the unhappiness it had caused — he would have to win her trust before he could win her heart.
CHAPTER FOUR
D espite his broad-rimmed hat, Curtis shaded his eyes from the glare of the sun as the chopper, an expensive McDonald Douglas MD Explorer, circled twice before setting down on the runway next to their own chopper. Damn, and several unkind thoughts sprang to mind straight away as he recognised the craft. His uncle hadn’t bothered to learn how to fly so he employed a pilot to swan him around, wherever and whenever he wanted. Well, he thought dourly, the old moneybags could afford it. Their seasoned but well-maintained Cessna they used for checking the herd and travel to and from Kununurra and Darwin was parked in the cavernlike tin shed, affectionately called the hangar.
So … dear Uncle Stuart was deigning to pay Amaroo a visit. He didn’t have time to entertain rellies, there was too much to do and who knew when Bren would be back. His brother should be here doing his share, not leaving it all up to him and Reg, not gallivanting overseas to chase Vanessa what’s her name! Boots dragging in accordance with his level of enthusiasm, he walked towards the chopper.
He watched Stuart exit from the chopper and wave. The pilot got out on the other side, as did another person. Curtis gave a low whistle through his teeth. She was back, Nova Morrison, Reg’s prodigal daughter. Those swaying hips, her cheeky look-at-me saunter, was Nova’s trademark walk, and one he’d recognise anywhere. He rubbed the two-day-old stubble along his jawline as he thought, how long had it been since she’d been at Amaroo? Two years, maybe longer.
‘Hello,’ he shouted to them over the chopper’s diminishing whine and mentally put aside the list of things he’d planned to do today. He would be lucky to get half of them done now. Fixing a welcoming grin to his lips, he continued on towards them.
‘Ooohh, Curtis.’ Nova ran the last three metres between them and hugged him exuberantly. ‘You haven’t changed one bit,’ she purred. ‘You’re still the handsomest Selby, you know.’
Curtis gave a deprecating laugh. ‘And you’re still an outrageous flatterer, Nova. How are you doing?’
‘Very well.’ She preened herself against him, standing as tall as she could, which brought her up to the middle of his chest. ‘I brought my degree in Arts-Science to show Dad, proof it was worth what it cost him. Since uni I’ve been working my way around, doing casual stuff, waitressing, bar work, hospitality receptionist shit, you know. In Sydney, Perth, and more recently, Broome.’ She glanced towards Stuart. ‘Bumped into your uncle in Dampier Street and he offered me a lift home.’ Nova’s smile showed a set of perfect teeth. She smiled a lot when she was talking to a man. ‘I said yes ’cause I thought it time for a visit.’
‘Hi, Curtis,’ Stuart greeted his nephew. They shook hands. ‘You know Rolfe Weston, my pilot?’
‘Yeah. Hi.’ Undiplomatically, Curtis came straight to the point. ‘What brings you to Amaroo, Stuart?’
‘Just a social call. Haven’t been here since …,’ he cleared his throat, ‘since Matthew died.’
‘Let’s get out of the sun,’ Nova suggested, attempting to break the underlying tension
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