Master of Maramba Read online

  “You mean he hasn’t got a musical bone in his body.” Carrie gave a broken laugh. “Dad has always been proud of me but he can’t come close to the music I play. Played. I haven’t touched the piano since the accident.”

  “Nearly a year ago.”

  “No time at all.”

  “I agree.” James couldn’t meet her glistening topaz eyes. “Not for your heartache and bitter disappointment, to heal.”

  “I don’t enjoy teaching, Jamie. I suppose I was too much of a performer.”

  “And you’re so young,” James returned. “Twenty-two is no age at all.”

  “Old enough to move out,” Carrie retorted. “I’d have done it before today only I didn’t want to hurt Dad. Glenda is never going to like me. We can’t be friends.”

  James snorted in disgust. “I don’t want to be unkind but Melissa is very much like her mother or she’s rapidly becoming that way. I think a shift might be best for all. Where would you like to go? You know you can come to Liz and me. We’d love to have you. Not blessed with children of our own, you’ve been everything to us.”

  “And you’ve been wonderful to me. Liz has been far more of a mother figure than Glenda could ever have hoped to be, but it’s time I struck out on my own, Jamie. You know I’m right.”

  “Your father would buy you an apartment, surely? He’s a wealthy man.”

  “I’m not going to ask him, Jamie. Glenda would bitterly resent that. I bought my own car. I’ll rent my own flat.”

  Protective James didn’t like the sound of that at all. “What about if I bought you one? I can afford it. Of course I wouldn’t like to go against your father. Add to the…” He almost said, chip on his shoulder.

  “List of resentments,” Carrie supplied. “Bless you for everything, Jamie, but I’m ready and able to stand on my own two feet. Lord knows I spent long enough as a student. I suppose I should undertake a doctorate. I may not be able to make the grade as a concert artist but music has been my life. I worked so hard. All those years of practice! I guess I’m stuck with a teaching career so I’ll need all the qualifications I can get.”

  “Agreed. But how can you support yourself if you won’t allow help?” There was worry in Jamie’s voice. “Part-time work won’t be enough. Lessons here and there.”

  “I still have Grandma’s money.” Carrie referred to her inheritance from her maternal grandmother who had pined away from grief at the loss of Carrie’s mother, her only daughter. “It’ll see me through. The thing is, Jamie, I want to get away. I need to find a bolthole. At least for a while. I have to get away from the whole music scene until I can come to terms with what has happened to me.”

  There was deep feeling in her uncle’s answering tone. “I can understand that, darling. The funny thing is I have a client, our most valuable client I should add, who’s looking for a governess for his little daughter. Not that you’re governess material,” he quickly considered.

  “Who said?”

  “Sweetheart.” James gave a fond laugh. “You’re not. Take it from me. You’re so gifted. So beautiful. A young woman to show off not hide in the wilds.”

  “The wilds?” Carrie’s arched brows shot up. “Tell me more.” She fought down a very sharp ache inside.

  “I’m sorry I started this,” James paused as a tap came on his door. A young female office worker entered wheeling a trolley set with what looked like a mini-banquet. James Halliday had a sweet tooth but showed not an extra ounce for it.

  “Over there, thanks, Ann.” He gave the girl his charming smile. “Looks good.”

  “All lovely and fresh, Mr. Halliday,” Ann smiled, turning her pretty face to Carrie who returned her pleasant greeting.

  “How you don’t get fat!” Carrie wondered affectionately, after Ann had departed. “Just as well you have your sailing.” She got up from her chair to pour.

  “I’m going out on the bay this weekend. Want to come?”

  “Yes, please!” Carrie’s golden-brown eyes brightened. She loved boats. Loved the water. She had sailed with her uncle since she was a child right up to the Whitsundays in the glorious Great Barrier Reef.

  When they were both seated, coffee in hand, three delicious little pastries to James’ left, Carrie picked up where he had left off. “I take it the governess job is on an Outback property.”

  “Property doesn’t say it, love.” James stirred his coffee with vigour. “More like a private kingdom. The family are big operators. They control over four million hectares spread across ten stations around the state. My client is one of the nation’s largest private land barons. Queensland remains home to the country’s biggest cattle kings, as you know.”

  “So we’re talking the Channel Country in the far southwest,” Carrie concluded. “Couldn’t get farther away.” Well over a thousand miles.

  “No.” James shook his thickly thatched head. “The chain does extend to the Cattle Country but the family base is in North Queensland. It’s the linchpin in the whole operation. Not their biggest holding but perhaps the best. A marine flood plain that provides pretty well constant lush green feed. Cattle from all over their holdings can be fattened there. It’s a Brahmin stud.”

  “Called?” Carrie savoured her coffee. As usual it was very good.

  “Maramba Downs. Maramba.”

  “I’m sure I’ve heard of it.”

  “Very likely,” James answered complacently selecting a mouth-watering patty. “Royce is often in the news.”

  “Royce who? Come on, you’re being very cagey.”

  “Carrie, love, this job wouldn’t suit you,” James said, wondering why he had even mentioned it.

  “The fact is I’m becoming more interested by the minute.”

  “It’s not going to happen. I understand the little girl is…difficult. Other governesses haven’t lasted long.”

  “What does the little terror do?” Carrie asked, having a special soft spot for “little terrors.” She had been one herself.

  James laughed. “I know what you’re thinking. Didn’t Glenda complain a lot about you? Royce sees it differently of course. The governesses are at fault.”

  “Aaaaah! Does the dragon have a surname?”

  “Royce McQuillan. Splendid fellow. One of the finest young men I’ve ever met. Hasn’t had an easy life, either. He lost his father and mother a few years back. They were killed in a plane crash holidaying overseas. Then his marriage broke up.”

  “Oh, dear!” Carrie slumped, knowing what heartache meant. “The mother didn’t take the child? That’s unusual.”

  “Didn’t want her, it appears.” James’ kind eyes grew soulful. “I don’t know the full story in that area, Royce doesn’t explain much. You’d have to know of her, though she’d be some years older than you. Thirty, maybe thirty-one. Very glamorous woman. Almost a beauty but too brittle. Sharon Rowlands, that was. Hugh Rowlands heads the Standford Pastoral Company. Ruth Rowlands and her daughter spend most of their time following the social scene. You see them in all the magazines.”

  “Except I’ve been too busy to read them. The little girl must have been devastated when her parents split up. How old is she?”

  “A very precocious six going on seven,” James said.

  “So they were married young?” Carrie observed, making calculations.

  “According to Liz the marriage was arranged while they were both in the cradle.”

  “That’s how it works in some families. It didn’t take them long to grow apart.”

  “No.” James truly, genuinely, felt very sorry for his client. “Royce has very big responsibilities, big commitments. The talk is Sharon got bored.”

  “Bored?” Carrie was stunned. What sort of life did this Sharon want? “So you’ve met her?”

  “A few times,” James said.

  “What did you think of her as a person?”

  “Too shallow for Royce. Liz thought so, too. She’s an excellent judge of character.”

  “Yes, she is.” Carrie
had turned very serious. “The mother must have a heart of stone if she could bear to leave her child.”

  James stared into his coffee cup. “I hate to say it but the word is the little one might interfere with her pleasure. I expect she’ll remarry though Liz thinks she’ll never get over Royce, let alone find another man like him.”

  “Maybe if she still cares about him they could get back together,” Carrie said reasonably. “Make a go of it for their child. They can’t have any of the financial worries that put a strain on most couples.”

  “Money doesn’t ensure happiness, my darling,” James said heavily, thinking of any number of his wealthy clients who had finished up in the divorce courts. “I thank God for my marriage every day of my life.”

  Carrie gave him the old warm smile. “You’re beautiful people, Jamie. You and Liz. Beautiful, tolerant, generous, caring people.” Determinedly she pushed all thought of her stepmother’s mean-spiritedness from her mind. “I love you. Always will.”

  They sat quietly for a few minutes, the atmosphere full of an easy companionship. “You know I’m like your father in this respect,” James confided after a while. “I couldn’t bear the thought of your going away. I know you had to for your career. I was terror stricken when I got that phone call….” He broke off, the news of Carrie’s accident embedded in his consciousness.

  “I know, James. It could have been much worse.” Carrie forced a smile.

  “Much, much worse, my darling. Losing my sister was a terrible blow. I couldn’t face anything horrible happening to you.” James spoke huskily. “There’s something else in store for you, kitten.” He used an old pet name. “Something wonderful. It may not seem like it now.”

  “It doesn’t.” Carrie swallowed. “It’s hard for me, Jamie. Very hard.”

  “Yes, yes.” James reached over to grip his niece’s left hand. “Liz and I understand what the loss of your career means to you.”

  “Of course. I may not have had a career.” Carrie tried to look at it another way. “I mightn’t have made the grade. There are many, many fine young pianists out there. One almost has to have a gimmick.”

  “Your beauty? Your personality?” James suggested, then stopped abruptly, realising it was all over.

  “But I don’t need a gimmick after all.” For a moment Carrie had a stark image of the crash. Horror then sudden darkness. Then the full realisation when she woke up in hospital. “I need a job, Jamie,” she said. “You can help me. You’re handling this matter for your client?”

  “I was going to allow Galbally to conduct the interviews,” James said.

  Carrie allowed herself a little gasp of dismay not lost on her uncle.

  “Dearest, I don’t have time,” James explained. “Women are so much better at these things.”

  “Not Ms. Galbally.” Carrie raised her eyebrows.

  “She takes her responsibilities very seriously,” James said loyally.

  “I’m sure she does. Can’t you recommend me, Jamie?”

  James dropped his head forward. “Your father wouldn’t like it at all. I can just image his response.”

  “Glenda would.”

  James responded to the irony. “But it mightn’t work out at all, Carrie. I don’t want to put you into a situation where you might be unhappy. Cut off and depressed.”

  “Unhappier, don’t you mean? I can look after a little girl. She must be especially vulnerable. Like me. Maybe I can bring something to her. Two female creatures under pressure.”

  James nibbled his nether lip. “Royce is coming to the office in a half hour. We have business to attend to. The revival in beef prices has boosted sales in the rural property sector. He’s thinking in terms of expansion.”

  “Does he want to own the whole country?” Carrie asked with mild sarcasm.

  “We need men like Royce McQuillan, dearest.”

  “I know,” she relented. “Would it be okay if I waited?”

  James sat back, focusing totally on his niece. “You’re serious about this?”

  “Yes.” She touched the little finger of her right hand, and rubbed it in a distracted fashion. Strange, it still looked okay. “Of course I won’t know how serious until I lay eyes on the great nation builder, but as you like and approve of him he must be okay.”

  “Indeed he is, which is not say he’s an easy man,” James considered. “He’s only into his thirties but already he has extraordinary presence. Such an aura! It takes most men years of achievement to acquire that.”

  “Must be all the money,” Carrie quipped dryly.

  James nodded. “That helps. The break-up of his marriage changed him in significant ways. Less likely to relax. Let down his guard. He’s more formidable.”

  “He sounds an uncomfortable person. Is he bitter?”

  James pursed his lips. “Not bitter as in surly or unpleasant. Nothing like that. He has great charm when he cares to use it. But the marriage break-up took away a certain lightness of spirit. The capacity for easy laughs.”

  “Made him more wary of women I expect?”

  “Beautiful women.” James looked full at her, captivated as ever by the lovely classical features, the bright colouring, most of all the close resemblance to his much-loved sister, Caroline.

  That same lovely face now fell. “You mean he’s looking for someone very plain?” The idea was unsettling.

  “I think pleasant would be his choice.” James glanced off.

  “Then pleasant I’ll be,” said Carrie, all of a sudden sure life on an Outback cattle station would solve her problem.

  She was holding the fort for Debra, Halliday, Scholes & Associates’ receptionist when he came through the door, confounding her. The blood drummed in her ears. The world tilted again.

  “Why, hello there.” He spoke very smoothly as she looked up. “This is just so unexpected.”

  Somehow mercifully the moment passed. She was able to breathe again. “It is…odd,” Carrie agreed, aware those brilliant black eyes were filled with amusement and mockery. “May I help you?” She was rather proud of the calm detachment of her voice.

  “It’s your boss I’m after. James Halliday.”

  “You have an appointment?” It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

  “Of course I have an appointment.” He gave a brief laugh. “You must be new. Royce McQuillan.”

  She was struck by dread. There goes the job. The bolthole. “Of course, Mr. McQuillan.” She stared back at him. “The receptionist will be back in a moment but I’ll ring through for you.”

  “No matter!” He dismissed that with a slight impatient gesture of his hand. “I’ll go along. Mr. Halliday is expecting me.”

  “Then allow me to take you,” Carrie offered, coming around the reception desk as Debra approached from the opposite direction, increasing her pace as she recognised the client.

  “Good morning, Mr. McQuillan,” she carolled, packing a lot of feeling into her voice. “Or is it afternoon?”

  “In a few minutes.” He glanced down at his watch. “How are you, Debra?”

  “I’m well. And you?” The receptionist came to a halt, staring up into his face, obviously thrilled he had taken the time to say a few words to her.

  “Fine.” There was a brief glimpse of his devastating smile. Very white against the dark tan. “Busy as usual. This young lady here,” he turned to Carrie now standing at his shoulder, “is going to escort me to Mr. Halliday’s office.”

  “That’s nice of you, Carrie,” Debra said, her colour warm, eyes bright. “Carrie is…”

  “In the office for the day.” Carrie cut the other girl off smoothly. She didn’t want her relationship to James explained quite yet.

  Debra smiled touching a hand to her soft bubbly curls. “Nice to see you, Mr. McQuillan. I won’t be here when you get back. I’ll be going off for lunch.”

  “Joining the madding crowd?” He gave her a little salute.

  “What part do you play in the scheme of things?” he asked C
arrie as they moved off. “I recognise you from somewhere and I don’t mean our previous encounter.”

  “I’m not famous,” she said. It came off her tongue rather acidly.

  “Is that what’s tearing you apart?” He glanced down at her from his arrogant height.

  “You’re wrong. Believe me.” Carrie kept on walking, slightly intimidated by his long stride.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Little flames glowed in the pupils of her eyes and she tilted her head. “You must spend your time trying to psychoanalyse people?”

  “I haven’t actually met anyone who acted quite like you,” he returned blandly.

  “I’m sure—absolutely sure—I don’t understand you.” She raised her delicate arched brows.

  “Then I’ll explain. In simple terms, you’re hostile.”

  “You could very easily arouse those feelings in anybody.” It slipped off her tongue before she could consider.

  “For all I know you could be frightened of me?”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Street terrorism?” the dark voice mocked.

  “Have your bit of fun.”

  “Are you a lady lawyer?” He gave her his all-encompassing sidelong glance. “You don’t look old enough, yet I’d say you’re a match for most people.”

  “I’m not a lawyer.” She turned to him sweetly. “I don’t work for this firm.”

  “But you’re somehow connected to James? I’ve finally figured it out.” He paused so she was forced to pause, too. “I know he doesn’t have a daughter. Come to think if it,” he laughed suddenly as full comprehension set in. “There’s quite a resemblance. You must be the niece. The brilliant young pianist?”

  Except now I’ve been whittled down to size. “You are a detective,” she said lightly. “Poirot on his best day.”

  “Why so snappy?” The striking face tautened as he stared down at her. “You have a wonderful future ahead of you, I understand?”

  “An unfortunate part of my nature.” They had turned into the top hallway, and now James Halliday himself emerged from his suite, anxious to greet such a valuable client personally.

  “Royce,” he cried with genuine pleasure, moving forward, hand outstretched. “Good to see you.”