Master Of Maramba

“You mean in terms of her relationship to her stepmother?” Royce asked perceptively.

James trusted this man so he gave an unhappy nod. “Like Carrie, my sister was so beautiful. Unforgettable really. When she died—a tragic accident, she fell and struck her head—Carrie was only three. Her father nearly went out of his mind. Jeff and I have never been close friends so I wasn’t able to help him as I could have had things been different. He started to drink pretty heavily. He hadn’t before and he doesn’t now, but out of his despair came a very quick second marriage. Glenda, his present wife, was his secretary. It appears she’d always been in love with him.”

“So she made things happen,” Royce said quietly.

“Yes.” James swallowed hard. “Melissa was born soon after. Carrie was never wanted by her stepmother. Her father adores her but he doesn’t understand her any more than he understood my sister. Glenda is always very careful when Jeff’s around but the relationship seen through my eyes and my wife’s has never been caring. Not affectionate. Certainly not loving. To compound it all Carrie was by far the brighter child in the family. As you’ll know from that photograph she was the prettiest little girl imaginable. She shone in the classroom. Right from the beginning she was brilliant at the piano, which I insisted she learn in remembrance of her mother who was a fine pianist, as was my mother. It runs in the family.”

“So the stepmother was not only jealous of her husband’s attention to his firstborn she was jealous and resentful of her capabilities,” Royce remarked.

“I’m afraid so. Carrie was always classed as a gifted child. Glenda saw the two girls in competition, which was sad for Melissa. Melissa had her mother’s views and attitudes forced on her. I think the two girls could have been good friends but Glenda didn’t want that. She wouldn’t permit it.”

“And Catrina’s father didn’t put a stop to this?” Royce asked almost curtly.

James shook his head. “Glenda is clever. Outwardly she’s as proud of Carrie and her achievements as ever Jeff is. Inwardly I think she struggles with her rage. She was thrilled at the thought of Carrie’s securing a place at the Julliard. That would have taken Carrie off her hands. Very very sadly it didn’t happen.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” Royce said, like he bitterly regretted the fact.

“I think I would have told you at some point but you’ve had lots of problems of your own, Royce,” James answered in a conciliatory voice.

“Your niece is very unhappy.”

It couldn’t be denied. “She’s struggling to overcome it. She hasn’t touched the piano since the accident.”

“So what is she doing with herself?” Royce McQuillan asked outright. “Teaching? That would be very hard at this point.”

“Very. Her whole training has been geared to performance.”

“I don’t think she’s governess material,” Royce said. “Too many strong emotions working through her. A trauma to battle down. I was looking for a quiet capable young woman who wouldn’t be discontented far away from boyfriends and the city life.”

“I agree. I don’t think Carrie is governess material, either, but she made it clear to me she wants to get right away from the world of music. For a time.”

“How long?” Royce asked in his direct manner.

‘Who would know?” There was deep concern in James’ voice. “I think Carrie feels all the pain and bitter disappointments like it was yesterday. She’s right about one thing. She’s great with children. Or she was until her world changed. She had such sparkle. Such vitality. Saddest to me is she’s lost a lot of her natural confidence.”

“Her accident has made her fearful?”

“Of certain things, yes,” James agreed. “Her father would never hear of her leaving home. She’s tried before but a large extent with her studies she’s been dependent on him. He wouldn’t thank me for interfering in any way. As I say, we don’t get on. But Carrie told me today she is determined on moving out.”

Royce didn’t give that another moment’s consideration. “It sounds like the obvious solution. Where will she go?” He narrowed his brilliant eyes.

“Wherever she wants to go. Liz and I will help her. Carrie is the love of our lives. She’s given us such joy. She’ll have a battle with her father, though. He’s a born controller.” James’ largely hidden antipathy came through.

“Except he lost control all those years ago.”

James nodded. “All that’s history. Almost any other young woman would have made a better mother for Carrie than Glenda. A better mother for Melissa in a way although Glenda dotes on her. They present a united front socially but it’s really a dysfunctional family.”

“Then it can’t be nice for Catrina to be around.”

In that moment Royce McQuillan made the decision to act.

Carrie spent another hour in town drifting through a department store, buying nothing. Nothing appealed. She was simply putting off the moment she had to return home. There was such a soul-destroying drawing up of sides; Glenda and Melissa; she and her father. Instead of taking any advantage from the situation Carrie had found it a real burden knowing her father enjoyed her company better than her sister’s. Not only that, he made no bones about showing it. His insensitivity had created many problems. She’d had the unenviable role of being the favourite. It had caused a lot of pain. On all sides.

Now that Carrie was a woman, Glenda hated her. Carrie felt almost positive Glenda felt no guilt because of it. Now that she wasn’t going overseas to continue her studies Glenda was coming more and more into the open. When her father wasn’t around Glenda didn’t hesitate to use a cutting tongue. She did it with an air of triumph, knowing Carrie would never complain to her father. It had always been so. Carrie, even on Glenda’s admission, had never used her unique position in her father’s life to gain the ascendency or come between husband and wife. But it hadn’t won her Glenda’s friendship. That was the irony.

Driving into the garage, Carrie reflected the position and delightful appearance of their beautiful old colonial riverside home that proclaimed her father’s affluence. The interior decoration was all Glenda. Glenda and the interior designer currently in favour. The spacious high-ceilinged rooms were choked with an overabundance of everything. Too much money gone mad, in Carrie’s opinion. She always felt trapped inside.

The splendid Steinway her father had brought for her when she was eleven years old and already showing signs of promise had been banished from the living room to the soundproof studio Glenda had convinced her father “darling little Carrie” must have. Her father hadn’t taken all that much persuasion for the good reason much as he loved her and was proud of her successes, he couldn’t bear to hear her practising. Her father, she had long since accepted, would never make a music lover. She had given up wondering how her mother and father had come together in the first place. “Sex appeal,” James maintained. “Jeff always was this great big handsome virile guy. They had little or nothing in common.”

Glenda and her father had a good deal in common; likes, dislikes, mutual interests. That didn’t prevent her father revealing on rare occasions the unique place Caroline, his first wife, had had in his life. To this day Carrie thought he was tormented by it. The sudden violent loss. The end of a golden period in his life. A golden period that had never really started for her. She was deprived and she knew it. No one should have to do without a mother. Her immersion in her studies, her preoccupations with succeeding as a pianist, could have been the result of too little bonding at home. Her music had shut her off from Glenda’s own unresolved resentments. She had poured out her own yearnings on a keyboard. Now she had the feeling of being profoundly at a disadvantage. At Glenda’s mercy unless she moved out. Ultimately though, it was her father she would have to confront. This was the father who had told her not so long ago if she left home it would break his heart.

She let herself into the house quietly, coming in through the rear door so she could escape to her bedroom. She couldn’t let these feelings of isolation get a hold on her. It was a tragedy her stepmother and her own sister offered her no support at this bad time, but she wasn’t alone. She had James and Liz, a whole lot of friends. The only thing was most of her friends were fellow musicians. Their careers went on. Hers had badly faltered.

Someone was in her room. She knew it before she opened the door. Melissa was standing in front of the mirrored wall of wardrobes, holding one of Carrie’s evening dresses to her body. The dress she had last performed in. It had a shell top, a beautiful full skirt, and was a rich orange, a difficult colour but it suited her.

“Hi, what are you doing?” Carrie tried not to show any irritation. Melissa was always borrowing her things when she had much more of her own. Items she wouldn’t have loaned under any circumstances. Melissa wasn’t a lender.

“We didn’t expect you home,” Melissa said, continuing to preen. “I’d like to wear this on Saturday. Can I?”

Carrie had to smile.

“Mel it won’t fit you,” she pointed out reasonably. “The skirt will be too long, for one thing.” Melissa was petite if well covered. “It won’t even suit you. We’re different sizes, different styles. I love you in red. It brings your colouring to life.” She said it naturally, helpfully, but it angered Melissa.

“That’s it! Go on, remind me. I need bringing to life.”

Carrie didn’t worsen the situation by saying she did. “We all benefit from wearing the colours that suit us. Don’t get cranky for no reason,” Carrie implored.

“Oh, and you aren’t?” Melissa turned around to throw the dress on the bed. “The tragedy queen with the little smashed finger. Who said you were going to be a concert pianist anyway? If you’d ever got there you’d have probably found plenty better than you. You were just a big fish in a little bowl. New York is the centre of the world.”

“Well, I’m not going, Mel. So settle down. I’m not a whinger, either, so don’t try pinning that on me.”

“Why, will you tell Dad?” Melissa looked back belligerently, her voice on the rise, a pretty girl, dark curly hair, hazel eyes, a little overweight, but the expression on her face made Carrie want to give up.

“We can’t talk, can we?” she said quietly, feeling pretty well numb inside. “We’re sisters. That’s wasting a valuable relationship.”

“Sisters?” Melissa shouted, her face energised by jealousy. She followed Carrie up closely, hands on hips, obviously spoiling for a fight. “Does that mean we’re supposed to love one another?”

“It happens in most families.” Carrie turned, picking up her dress and carrying it to the wardrobe.

“But you’re too good for us, Carrie. Too clever for Mum and me. Mum says having you around has ruined our lives.”

Though the sort of stuff Glenda fed her daughter made Carrie feel sick to the stomach, she faced her sister calmly. “How do you want me to react, Mel? Scream back? I was little more than a baby when my mother died. Three. I didn’t want to come between anyone. I’d have adored having my own mother. You might think of that.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, the gorgeous, the beautiful, the adorable Caroline.” Melissa’s pretty face was working.

“Who died when she was only a few years older than me,” Carrie retaliated. “Thank you, Melissa. Doesn’t that defuse your rage a little? She had her whole life in front of her.”

“But haven’t you ever thought she’s more glorious in death,” Melissa cried almost hysterically. “That’s what Mum says.”

“Then Mum has a lot to answer for.” Carrie felt her own temper rise.

“You hate her, don’t you? You hate me,” Melissa insisted, dragging at her curls roughly.

“Mel, that’s so unfair.” Carrie put her hand on her stepsister’s arm, grateful Melissa didn’t shake it off. “That’s some dreadful propaganda Glenda has fed you. It desperately hurt me to hear you say that. Glenda and I might never get on, but I wouldn’t like to lose you. We’re blood.” She could feel Melissa trembling.

“How dare you!” a voice shouted from the door. Glenda dressed to the nines was standing there quivering with outrage.

“For what it’s worth,” she fixed her greenish eyes on Carrie, “I’m your stepmother. I’ve looked after you and looked after you well for all these years, you ungrateful creature. Now you try to turn Melissa against me.”

“Oh, please, Mum, don’t start,” Melissa wailed, her eyes filling with tears.

“Look how you’ve upset her,” Glenda accused.

Carrie took a deep breath. “Why don’t you stop right now, Glenda,” she said. “I’m having a bad enough time without your starting.”

“Is it pity you want?” Glenda demanded, her expression distorted.

‘Understanding might say it,” Carrie answered briefly.

“You think yourself so extraordinary,” Glenda said. “Anyone would think you were the only one who has ever suffered a setback. Between ourselves I’ve had a lot to contend with.”

“You’ve never had talent like Carrie’s,” Melissa burst out unexpectedly. “I’ve never heard her big noting herself, either.”

Glenda’s impeccably made-up face drained of colour. She looked at her daughter as though she couldn’t understand what she was saying. “Excuse me, Melissa, haven’t I heard you endlessly complaining about Carrie’s airs and graces?”

Melissa’s reaction was even more unexpected. “Maybe I’m just jealous,” she said. “I’d give anything to get covered in glory. To be lovely. Just a tiny bit like Carrie. To see Dad’s eyes light up. To feel his pride in me. I’d have given anything to be Dad’s perfect little girl. Ah, hell….” Melissa couldn’t bear it any longer. She broke into sobs, trying to flee the room but Glenda stopped her forcibly, grabbing her wrists.

“My darling, don’t you ever put yourself down. Your father adores you.”

“Like hell he does, Mum. Beside Carrie I’m pathetic. A failure. I couldn’t even get a place at uni. Dad was so disappointed in me.”

“Ah, don’t, Mel. Please don’t.” Carrie was deeply affected; answering tears sprang to her eyes. “What’s so important about going to university? You’ll find something you love doing.”

“Then tell me what it is.” Melissa was back to shouting. “I can’t do a damn thing. I’m stupid. We all know that.”

“You haven’t begun to find yourself,” Carrie said. “You have to try things, Mel. You’re the best cook in the house.”

“I beg your pardon.” Glenda, who took particular pride in her culinary skills, looked affronted.

“Why not train to be a chef?” Carrie suggested. “You have a real way with food and food preparation. The way you’re always experimenting and making new dishes.”

“A chef!” Glenda looked totally taken aback though she couldn’t deny Melissa was very good. “What nonsense you talk. Mel is able to turn out an excellent meal—perhaps a touch too exotic. I don’t want her spending her time hanging around restaurants.”

“She has to train first.”

Melissa looked astonished. “Why not?”

“Oh, please!” Glenda shook all over in disgust. “Your father is a rich man, Melissa. Come to that, you don’t have to work at all. You can help me.”

“How? Chauffeur you around all day?” Melissa looked over at Carrie and actually smiled at her. “Do you think I could become a chef?”

“Of course I do,” Carrie said briskly. “I’m greatly surprised you haven’t thought of it before.”

“Now look here, Carrie,” Glenda began a shade helplessly. “Don’t go putting foolish ideas into Melissa’s head.”

“It’s quite an attractive idea,” said Melissa, now oddly calm.

“My God!” Glenda held her head. “I want you out of here, Carrie,” she said harshly. “I don’t care how you do it—what you say to your father—I want you out. You’ve disrupted my home long enough.”

Even Melissa flinched. “Mum don’t!”

“That’s all right.” Carrie looked at Melissa reassuringly. “In lots of ways it will be better if I go.”

“Not when you’re being ordered out,” Melissa said. “That’s dreadful.”

“Keep out of this, Melissa,” her mother warned sharply, her expression furious. “Do you think because Carrie has suggested a job for you it’s going to make things better? You girls have had a very spiky relationship for years. You want your father’s attention? You’ll get more of it with Carrie gone.”

“Well, maybe…” Melissa looked confused.

“So that’s settled,” Carrie said, trying to absorb the blows. “I’ll speak to Dad then I’ll set about finding a place of my own.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a lot happier in it, Carrie,” Glenda said in a much gentler tone, though the expression on her face was almost exultant. “You must realise how I’ve tried, I’ve…” She broke off, diverted by the sound of the front door chimes. “That must be the florist,” she murmured, looking a whole lot brighter. “I’ve ordered a new arrangement for the entrance hall. Leave your sister now, Melissa, and come downstairs. I’m sure Carrie has lots to think about.”

Carrie felt cut to the bone. Hot tears welled but she fought them back. She’d done enough crying in her pillow. It was time to rise above it. A few moments later Melissa rushed back into the room, appearing surprised, but very pleasantly so. “Carrie, there’s someone downstairs who wants to see you. The best-looking guy I’ve ever seen in my life. You’ve gotta come clean.”

“About what, then? Who is it?” Carrie turned away; quickly brushing a few unshed tears off her eyelashes.

“Says his name is Royce McQuillan. Got a great voice. Real cool.”

“You’re joking?” But Carrie knew that she wasn’t.

“Mum offered him something but he didn’t want it. They’re in the living room talking. Mum seems to be enjoying it. She loves the tall dark handsome types.”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” Carrie said, walking through to the adjoining bathroom to run a comb through her hair, but mostly to check the sign of tears didn’t show.

They did. Or she thought they did, she was so emotional.

“You don’t have to touch anything,” Melissa said, following her into the en suite. “You’re perfect. You’ve got this incredible skin. Why haven’t I? You never have a breakout. It’s not fair.”

“We both know you have very good skin, too, Mel. And big hazel eyes. I don’t have a curl in sight.”

“Curls aren’t special,” said Melissa.

Glenda and Royce McQuillan were seated in the living room, apparently enjoying a pleasant conversation. “Oh, there you are, dear.” Effortlessly Glenda assumed a fond voice. But then she’d had so much practice. “You have a visitor.”

Royce McQuillan stood up, unbearably handsome and physical. Giving her that coolly sexy smile. “Catrina, it’s wonderful to see you. I just happened to be in the area.”

“How nice of you to call in.” She marvelled her own voice rippled with pleasure.

“I’ll be flying home tomorrow,” he explained, “I thought we might have dinner tonight if you’re free?”

“That would be lovely.” Such an unexpected saviour!

He had moved right up to her, taking her hand, staring down into her face. “So I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Marvellous. I’m looking forward to it. What time?” She almost begged him to take her with him.

He shot a cuff, and glanced at his watch. “If you could be ready at seven? I haven’t given you much warning.”

“Seven will be fine,” she said, with a quick smile. “I won’t be late.”

“I’ll pick you up.” He turned to look at Glenda who was staring at them both in a kind of open-mouthed fascination. “A pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Russell. You, too, Melissa.” He gave her a smile that might haunt her for the rest of her days. “Catrina has spoken of you both. I must apologise for tearing off but I’m cutting it rather fine as it is. I have to see someone before I go back to the hotel.”

Glenda rose, looking at Carrie as though she was precious. “It’s a great pity you’ll miss my husband,” she said. “He’s working late tonight. You know how it is?”

“My busiest times are the mornings. I’m a cattle man, Mrs. Russell. My home is North Queensland.”

“How exciting!” Glenda was studying him in detail, wondering where on earth Carrie had found this prize.

“It’s a very beautiful part of the world, north of Capricorn,” McQuillan said, towering over the petite, very trim Glenda. “Catrina, would you like to walk me to my car?” he asked with a turn of his head.

She smiled at him and he smiled back.

“Goodbye, then.” He gave the mesmerised women, Glenda and Melissa, a charming salute. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“That’s great!” The nineteen-year-old Melissa burst out.

They walked in silence out of the house and along the front path bordered by an avenue of palms and farther back an avalanche of azaleas and flowering shrubs intoxicating in their perfume.

“You’ve been crying?” he said.

“I have not.” She knew she sounded nervy.

“Your stepsister doesn’t look in the least like you.”

“Not surprising, I’m said to be the image of my mother.”

“She must have been very lovely.”

“Yes.” Carrie answered simply as though it wasn’t a compliment to herself.

“I can well see your stepmother might give you a hard time,” he remarked rather grimly.

She turned her head in surprise. Glenda had been at her social best. “Didn’t she act welcoming enough?”

“Indeed she did. She was very pleasant. I just happened to spot something in her eyes. Are you all right?” he asked after a minute.

“I’m absolutely fine.” Carrie decided it was time to get right to the point. “Why are you here, Mr. McQuillan? Somehow you’ve given my stepmother and sister the impression we’re…friends.”

Quirky little brackets appeared at the side of his mouth. “Well, it’s hard not to like you, Catrina. And I have to say it was good to find out you’re not nervous of me personally.”

“Jamie told you about my accident,” she said a little fiercely.

“He did.” He opened the front gate for her, marking the beauty of her hair in the golden sunlight. “I wish he had told me before. We’ve become closer than the usual solicitor/client relationship, but he loves you so much he found your pain unbearable. I can understand that.”

“Can you?”

His smile twisted. “You don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone?”

She stared up at him, the brilliance of the sun flecking her eyes with gold sparks. “I’m sorry. What you must think of me! Of course you have. You do.”

“That’s better, Catrina,” he said crisply. “If I were a betting man as well as a horse breeder I wouldn’t put money on whether you and I will get on.”

“I share your alarm,” she said, too agitated to watch her tongue.

“Very wise of you,” he drawled, holding her gaze for a minute. “It seems to me, however, having heard your story, I can help you out of a very difficult situation. At least for a time. You on the other hand might well be able to help me with Regina.”

Carrie drew in a raw ragged breath. “You mean you’re hiring me?”

“What does that bloody woman say to you?” he asked, his scrutiny intense.

For a moment she felt drained of all strength. “I’m not her child, her daughter. I desperately need to get away.”

“So she won’t damage you further.”

“You can’t know,” she protested. “Glenda isn’t all that bad.”

“Isn’t she? James filled me in. Besides, I’ve had a pretty event-packed life. I know a lot more than you, Miss Twenty-Two.”

“A great deal more,” Carrie said. “I’m sorry I’m being rude. You must bring out that side of me.”

“I expect being mad at the world has helped a lot.” He studied her with a mixture of mockery and sympathy.

“It’s not easy to come to terms with the shattering of one’s dreams.”

“My feelings exactly,” he replied with quiet irony. “You can tell me all about it over dinner.” He bent suddenly and, while she felt a rush of pure panic, kissed her cheek.

“What did you do that for?” She tried but couldn’t find more than a shadow of her voice.