Outback Sunset, page 25
Vanessa nodded as she absorbed that information. ‘And there’s no man in your life now?’
‘No one serious though I’ve dated a few since. I’ve gone solo and I’m on the road a lot. That makes relationships difficult.’
‘Sounds like you’ve had a nervous breakdown,’ Vanessa made the obvious conclusion though Nova hadn’t said she had, ‘or gone close to it. How did it happen?’
‘You know,’ Nova tilted her head to one side as she thought about the question, ‘I think some people have a self-destruct mechanism inside them. I think that’s what I have. Everything was going well, I was coping without Leo. Mind you, he was good to have around in many ways. Great sex.’ She wiggled her eyebrows. ‘And he could cook and keep track of the money, that sort of thing. I still miss him for those things.’
‘Really? Is it Leo you miss or the fact that he made your life easier?’
‘The latter, I guess,’ Nova’s reply was honest then, uncomfortable with the admission, she changed the subject. ‘I went to Nashville, did the big-time audition. A small, on-the-move recording company, Reece Records, signed me up. That’s when everything started to come unglued.’ She kicked a fallen tree branch into the water and the sound of the branch’s splash scared off two jabirus on the other side of the creek. Screeching their annoyance they spread their long wings and took off to settle further down the creek where it was more peaceful.
‘I had it in the palm of my hand — international success — and I let it slip away. Couldn’t hack the pressure. I guess I am a stupid bitch. Reece pulled the plug on the album. The reason they gave was that putting the tracks down was taking too long; costing too much from a labour point of view was what they really meant, because I wasn’t happy with the backing tracks. We were recording late one night and I took a break. An executive of the company, a damned born again Christian vice-president no less, caught me taking stuff.’
She glanced meaningfully at Vanessa, ‘Smoking a toke. He went right off and that was that. No recording contract, exit stage right! Anthea’s pissed off with me. Jo, my co-composer who was doing some harmonies with me, got pissed off. Everyone got pissed off and I ended up in the funny farm.’ Failing to see any criticism in Vanessa’s features, she continued the sorry tale. ‘Anthea flew me home and had me admitted to a sanatorium north of Sydney to dry out. Afterwards, she told me to go somewhere quiet and pull myself together. That’s why I’m here.’
Now she didn’t bother to stop tears of self-pity from trickling down her cheeks. ‘A-nd, a-nd …’ she began to hiccup, ‘I’m scared shitless that I won’t be able to hack it.’ Not only was she scared, secretly she was angry with herself for letting the opportunity to eclipse Vanessa, by becoming an international recording artist, turn into a failure. That hurt more than anything, more than Anthea’s reproachful attitude, more than Jo Brooks’s disgust …
It was galling to have to confess her shortcomings to Vanessa — Miss Perfect — she had dubbed her, but she had an ulterior motive, sympathy. Vanessa was a soft-hearted woman, a bit of a do-gooder like Fran, and getting her on side would make it easier to tell her father and Fran what had happened.
Vanessa, who’d been standing beside the bikes, came over to Nova and drew her into her arms. She hugged her. ‘You poor thing, you have been through the mill.’
‘Hah! That’s the rub, I’m not poor. Anthea’s a terrific financial manager. She took over my finances when Leo walked out. I have a very healthy bank balance.’
‘That’s good, you can be miserable in comfort.’ Vanessa tried a lighthearted remark but seeing Nova’s distress she became serious. ‘You know, the thing about nervous breakdowns, according to what I’ve read and heard, is that most people, with good advice and treatment, get over them. You’re in a trough, a downer, but it won’t last forever. Your therapist probably told you that.’
‘The shrink did. He also said that I’m the only one who can get myself out of it.’ A rogue muscle twitched at the side of her mouth as she spoke.
‘With help,’ Vanessa encouraged. She found a pocket pack of tissues in the back pocket of her jeans — she kept them there because of Kyle — and offered them to Nova. ‘Did the psychiatrist also say that you need to decide where you want your career to go?’
‘He said lots of things, half of which I don’t remember because I was strung out.’ Oh, yes, she was laying it on a bit thick but she knew that Vanessa was enough of a sucker for a sad tale to believe her wholeheartedly, stupid bitch that she is, a thought, no, a strange little voice suddenly popped into her head. She was, Nova agreed with it.
Vanessa was quiet for a little while. ‘Well, be assured that you’re welcome to stay at Amaroo for as long as you need to. And whenever you want to talk, I’m here.’
Nova gritted her teeth. Vanessa being nice, being sympathetic, only rubbed more salt into her overemphasised wounds. ‘I know,’ she said in a piteous tone. ‘You, Bren and Curtis have been wonderful. I won’t forget it.’
‘Come on then,’ Vanessa pulled her towards the bikes. ‘Let’s go for a real ride. We’ll brush the cobwebs away with some fresh air and a bit of speed.’
‘I guess you now ride a bike better than I do too,’ Nova retorted, her mouth turning down glumly.
Vanessa straddled her bike and gave Nova a wink, challenging her with, ‘Come on, let’s find out.’ Fresh air, blue skies, rest and being around normal people, worked wonders on Nova’s problem. It had been good for her inner soul to confess what had happened to all and sundry one night at dinner, leaving none of the gory and sometimes embarrassing details out. Good therapy. Vanessa had said it would be beneficial and it was. As well, she’d managed to gain everyone’s attention and sympathy, especially Curtis’s, though other people’s reactions varied. Her father was shocked. Fran remained her non-committal self but she saw a glimmer of understanding and sympathy in the older woman’s eyes. Bren, who had some personality difficulties of his own showed a surprising understanding, and Curtis was his usual kind, supportive self.
Afterwards, Nova began to compose again and it was a surprise to her that the source of her inspiration was the young, energetic Kyle who followed her everywhere, when she wasn’t out on the range. It was something of a nuisance the way he interfered with her plan to be with Curtis whenever possible. But, the up-side to him tagging along was interesting because she could observe him and take on board the way toddlers thought and acted.
As a result, his innocence, energy and delightful personality became the basis for several compositions. She wrote three songs geared towards small children, recorded them on audio with a guitar backing and talked to Anthea who encouraged her to continue. Having Vanessa to talk to, and to a lesser degree, her father, Fran and Curtis helped to exorcise the demons within her, though occasionally, that strange, inner voice would pop into her head involuntarily, criticising Vanessa and the things she did.
Nova welcomed the return to feeling strong, mentally and emotionally, almost her old self, until one night …
At the barbecue Bren and Reg organised and were in charge of the cooking, Nova studied Curtis as he in turn watched Vanessa play with Kyle. All at once, seeing his concentration on mother and son, something, a certain realisation hit her with the force of a ten tonne Mac truck. Shit! She could hardly believe it, but neither was she imagining it. Because Bren and Reg were occupied, Curtis was giving his undivided attention to his sister-in-law and his expression could only be described as, she wasn’t mistaken, rapt.
It was sickening. The man she had been in love with for years couldn’t take his eyes off Vanessa as she chased a squealing Kyle around the sandpit, scooped him up in her arms and deposited him on the swing. And, damn it, doesn’t Vanessa look good; so healthy, vital and beautiful, the voice said. And it was true. Amaroo’s mistress rarely got sick; she didn’t have any mental problems or a drug dependency. Almost, bloody perfect, the uncharitable thought ran through Nova’s head.
Several muscles twisted inside her chest, around the region of her heart, squeezing, tightening, until a bubble of bile rose in her throat as she stared at Curtis. Shit a brick, why hadn’t she cottoned on to Curtis’s preoccupation before? Was she blind? Yes, it’s clear that Curtis has, or is developing feelings for his brother’s wife, the voice sniped subtly.
Nova shook her head, wanting to deny what she’d seen and the thoughts tumbling around inside her brain but the proof was there before her very eyes. No, maybe Curtis wasn’t aware of his forbidden interest — she sought excuses. I suppose that’s possible, yet …? The insidious voice planted the uncertainty into her head. Angry with Curtis and with the unsuspecting Vanessa, the nerves at the side of her mouth began to twitch. She glanced towards Bren Selby … If he knew he would kill Curtis. Bren was a possessive man and more than once he’d implied that if any one tried to crack on to Vanessa he would enjoy pulverising them.
A deep, spiralling depression began to engulf her, but the sensation was different to her recent breakdown though as intense and all-encompassing. The more she thought about Curtis and Vanessa the more physically ill she felt. Everyone at Amaroo knew Curtis had changed his opinion about Vanessa. At the beginning he had scoffed at her capacity to fit in but over the years, as she’d proven herself, the dislike had softened. To what? The voice in her head asked, infatuation, love? Her head shook from side to side again as she sought to clarify her thoughts. For a start she didn’t believe that Vanessa reciprocated in any way. No way. She hardly knew that Curtis was alive, except as a brother-in-law and a business partner. But … that doesn’t matter, the voice inside drummed over and over in her brain, Curtis is yours, he belongs to you — he just doesn’t know it yet. Yes, she agreed with the voice, with all her heart.
Being at Amaroo, seeing him almost every day, doing chores together, sharing jokes, talking with him had confirmed the love she felt for him. His kindnesses, his consideration and his gentleness were, to her, proof that given the right encouragement, over time, his feelings towards her would change and intensify. Now, this … complication. Staring hollow-eyed at Curtis, then at Vanessa, made a nerve near her mouth begin to flick more erratically as a silent, frustrating fury flowed through her. It wasn’t fair, shit, it was not …
Her now thoroughly jaundiced gaze narrowed as it focussed on Vanessa, beautiful, talented Vanessa, and an anger so strong it made her tremble, came over her. She’s not really your friend, you know, she’s the enemy, her inner voice insinuated. Even if Vanessa had done a hundred things for her in the past, even if Nova had once considered her an idol to live up to and measure her own success by, none of that counted anymore. By God, it didn’t. A powerful and vicious jealousy was making her stomach muscles tighten as she tried to think what she could do.
The next instant her features took on a feral slyness. She had to do something about her to attain her goal — Curtis. Her gaze swung towards Sandy. The dog was barking excitedly at Kyle being pushed on the swing. Hmmm, her thoughts were starting to tick overtime now, planning, scheming. The object of her anger was going to London soon and … Wouldn’t it be good if she didn’t return, came the venomous thought. Mmmm, yes, that would be very good.
A cunning smile tilted the corners of Nova’s mouth. There were ways to make life unpleasant at Amaroo, things could be done to encourage Vanessa to spend more time away from Amaroo than on it which, she believed, would effectively lessen Curtis’s fascination for her. Her brain began to work double-time as an assortment of ideas, heightened by contributions from the internal voice that dominated her thoughts …
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Stepping out of the shower, Vanessa towelled herself dry. It was still early in the morning and she didn’t have to rub hard; the warm air dried her body in a few minutes. She began to comb her wet hair. The strong, Australian sun had streaked it almost platinum on the top of her head. She gazed critically at her features. No freckles, yet, because her skin tone was too olive, still she dutifully moisturised her face twice a day and applied a fifteen plus suntan cream because she didn’t want to look like a dried-up prune. Some outback women, Fran included, who hadn’t taken care of their skin, aged prematurely because of the outback’s harsh effects.
Her thoughts turned to Bren. He was out on a muster with Reg and Warren, rounding up and moving part of the herd to better pasture. They would be away for three days. A frown creased her forehead as she thought about her husband. It was hard not to, occasionally, when she found time to think about it, to compare the Bren of today to the man who had courted her in England. Oh, he could still be charming when it suited him, but he could also be aggressive, childish and moody. She had come to know the warning signs, usually triggered by restlessness. He would become short-tempered with everyone, then drink excessively, to relax, he said. But alcohol had the opposite effect on Bren, it made him more aggressive. And he would want more sex. She accepted that, but at such times he wasn’t always a considerate lover, being too absorbed in his own pleasures. Then the restlessness would escalate until he took off in the plane or chopper to Broome or, less frequently to Darwin to be pampered by his mother. A change of scene helped because he came back the old Bren, the man she knew and for the most part, still loved.
Vanessa moved to the wardrobe to take out her favourite shirt, a pink cotton that was lightweight, perfect for the hot day ahead. When she pulled the shirt off the coat-hanger, to her consternation there was a large brown stain down the front.
‘What the …?’ she exclaimed, frowning. The stain, across both sides of the shirtfront was brown and looked like machine oil or chocolate. Ruined, she thought. But how? Disappointed, she pulled out another shirt and put it on and, when dressed and with the ruined shirt in her hand, she went looking for Fran.
‘Is something wrong with the washing machine?’ she asked Fran as the latter came out of the pantry with an armful of groceries.
‘Not that I know of, why?’
‘Look at this.’ Vanessa showed Fran the pink shirt. ‘Any idea how that could happen?’
Fran studied the shirt, brought the material close to her nose to smell it. ‘Smells like machine oil. I washed it the other day, ironed it and put it in your wardrobe. There was no stain on it then, I’m sure of that,’ she affirmed then, scratching her head, added, ‘I don’t know how this could have happened.’
‘Another mysterious happening on Amaroo, I suppose,’ Vanessa said tongue-in-cheek. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of the shirt, but she was puzzled. The other day, when she’d gone to dust ornaments in the living room she had found a photograph of herself — one taken when she’d been on stage doing The Glass Menagerie — smashed on the floor and the photo oddly torn, almost in half. No one knew how that had happened either — and it had been positioned on a shelf too high for Kyle to reach! And then, two days ago there had been another incident. She had been about to go out on a trail ride with Nova and Curtis and as she’d mounted her horse the saddle girth had snapped and she’d fallen onto the ground and bruised a hip. All very odd … she concluded.
‘I’m sure it’s not the washing machine, but I’ll get Reg to take a look at it to be sure,’ Fran offered.
Vanessa sighed. ‘Okay, thanks.’
Nova, standing in the hallway, out of sight, smiled as she turned away and moved towards the homestead’s office. She had more plans to unsettle Vanessa before she went off to London. Oh, yes, indeed she did.
The phone rang precisely at 8 a.m., disturbing the morning’s silence in the kitchen. Fran looked expectantly at Nova who was closest to the receiver. When her stepdaughter made no move to answer it, she clucked her tongue loud enough to show her irritation and picked up the handset herself.
‘Hello.’ Pause, ‘Yes, she’s here.’ Fran wiggled the receiver at Nova. ‘It’s for you. Your manager.’
Nova, her eyes suddenly sparkling, a smile on her face, took the receiver. ‘Anthea, hi. How are things in the east?’
‘Chilly, love. Eight degrees this morning, but then it is the middle of winter in Sydney,’ Anthea answered dryly. Then, businesslike as usual, she got straight to it. ‘About those children’s songs you sent me. I have an interested party, a very keen party who wants you to do video clips of them and, if satisfactory, they’ll follow it up with a local recording contract. It’s the foot in the door we’ve been looking for, Nova.’
‘Really?’ Nova’s smile widened. ‘That’s fab.’
‘It is. The production company doing the clips is keen to do them straight away. There’s even the possibility, it’s a long shot, love, but if all goes well, there could be a children’s show presenter’s job for you, which wouldn’t do your country and western singer image any harm; wonderful publicity. Look how well Monica Trapaga’s done.’ She let that sink in. ‘How soon can you come to Sydney?’
Nova’s smile faded. Leave Amaroo. Leave the safety, the peacefulness. Leave Curtis? came the thought in her head.
‘I … I’m not sure.’ Her head and heart began a battle royal. She was making progress with Curtis, well, she believed she was. But then, the next instant the lure of fame and a celebrity status she’d only dreamed of tugged at her ambitious side. Anthea, in spite of the Nashville fiasco, was offering her a second chance to be the success she knew she could be. She was realistic enough to know that another such opportunity would not come her way but to take advantage of it meant she had to leave Amaroo. Shit, how could she decide? Who could she talk to? Dad and Fran would tell her to do what she thought best. Vanessa? No, she couldn’t stoop to ask the person she now considered her nemesis. This was a decision she had to make by herself.
‘Nova, I’ll be frank with you, you know my thoughts on windows of opportunity. This deal won’t be available for long.’
