Taming Dr Tempest

And silk-knit polo shirts probably weren’t what Annabelle had in mind for everyday wear in Murrawalla.

His companion frowned for a moment then shrugged.

‘No matter. We can get you togged up in town—in Murrawingi—before we head west. There’s a caravan park, which will have a laundry, so we can scruff everything up a bit before washing it and—’

‘Scruff everything up a bit?’ he echoed, feeling as if he was on a flight to Mars rather than the weekly flight to Murrawingi.

‘You don’t want that “new boy at school” look, do you?’ his new wardrobe consultant demanded, and he shook his head, remembering only too clearly the insecurity stiff new clothes had produced when he’d first started at his private school, a scholarship kid from a different social stratum who’d known no one. Lonely but proud, he’d hidden his unhappiness from his classmates with a defiant aloofness, until he’d proved himself on the rugby field, gaining popularity through sport, his intelligence overlooked as an aberration of some kind.

Look forward, he reminded himself, turning his mind back to Annabelle.

‘But I don’t want to be spending money on new clothes either—especially clothes I’ll probably never wear again.’

It was Annabelle’s turn to shake her head.

‘I know you mix in high society, but even there, good-quality country clothing is acceptable. Two pairs of moleskins, a couple of chambray or small-checked shirts, a pair of jeans and an Akubra. Actually, how big’s your head?’

She checked his head. It was a nice head with a good bump at the back of it—not like some heads that went straight down at the back. And the silky black hair was well cut to reveal the shape.

You’re talking hats, not heads, she reminded herself, wondering why she was so easily distracted by this man.

‘My Akubra’s a good size because I always had to tuck my hair into it, so it will probably fit you and, being a woman, I can wear a new Akubra without looking like a new chum.’

‘I’m still back at the first mention of Akubra,’ Nick admitted, looking more puzzled than ever. ‘What the hell is an Akubra?’

Annabelle stared at him in disbelief.

‘What planet do you inhabit?’ she demanded. ‘Surely there’s no one in Australia, and possibly the world, who hasn’t heard of Akubra hats?’

‘Well, I haven’t!’

He spoke stiffly and Annabelle realised he was embarrassed. A wave of sympathy for him washed over her and she reached out and patted his arm.

‘I’m sorry. I won’t tease you any more. You’ve obviously led a sheltered life.’

Sheltered? Nick wondered. As if! Although from the outside, looking in, he supposed people would assume that, especially people who didn’t know how hard he’d had to work to reach his goals, or the sacrifices his parents had made to allow him to follow his dream.

He closed his mind on the past and turned his attention back to his companion. At least her chatter took his mind off things…

She had the paper open and was half smiling at whatever article she was reading. He wondered what she wanted the bonus money for—to spend on clothes, a man, an overseas holiday?

He had no idea, although he ruled out the man. His impression of her was that she was far too sensible—although without the hair she didn’t look at all sensible. She looked pert and cute and kind of pretty in an unusual way, her high cheekbones too dominant for real prettiness but giving her an elfin look. Some middle European blood would be responsible for the cheekbones, he suspected, although her name, Annabelle Donne, couldn’t be more plainly English.

‘Why do you need the money?’

He hadn’t intended asking her, but the fact that she was sitting there, calmly reading the paper, not the slightest bit interested in him now the wardrobe question had been sorted, had forced it out—more peevishness.

She closed the paper and folded it on her knee before turning to acknowledge she’d heard his question. Then she looked at him, dark eyes scanning his face, perhaps trying to read whether his question was out of genuine interest or simply a conversational gambit.

Whatever conclusion she reached, she did at least answer.

‘I want it to pay my sister’s HECS fees—you know, the higher education contribution for university studies. She’s finishing her pre-med degree this year then going into medicine and I don’t want her coming out burdened down by fees for the first few years of her career. I know people do it, and manage, but I can’t help feeling those horror years as an intern and resident will be easier for her if she’s not worrying all the time about money.’

‘Your parents can’t pay it?’ Nick found himself asking, although his parents hadn’t been able to pay, and the burden of debt had been hard in his early working years, especially once Nellie had come on the scene.

‘My parents…’

She hesitated and he read sadness in her eyes and the droop of her lips.

They’re dead, Nick thought, and I’ve just put my foot right in it.

‘Our parents,’ she began again, ‘aren’t always there for us. We’re a mixed-up family but Kitty—Katherine—and I have a special bond so we’ve always looked out for each other.’

Which ended the conversation so abruptly he felt aggrieved again and slightly annoyed with her so it was easy to add other grievances, the clothes talk, the way she teased him, and now she was reading the paper again as if he didn’t exist.

Well, he didn’t have to like the woman with whom he’d be working for the next two months—just as long as they could work well together.

CHAPTER TWO

HE CONCENTRATED on the scenery but unfortunately bits and pieces of what she’d been saying were rattling through his confused brain, taking him back to a much earlier conversation. What had she said? She’d been talking about bore water…

‘Camping out together?’

The words exploded out of him, disbelief making them sound far louder than he’d intended.

It certainly got Annabelle’s attention as she once again swivelled towards him, frowning now as she looked at him.

‘What’s wrong now?’ she asked, with the kind of sigh that women used when they considered themselves faced with the inadequacies or stupidity of men.

‘You said we’d be camping out together,’ he reminded her. ‘Earlier on when you were talking about your hair or my clothes or something. Why on earth will we be camping out together?’

No sigh but a smile in answer.

‘Well, for a start, if you’d bothered to read the programme we were given, there’s a B and S ball next weekend and then Blue Hills rodeo—or maybe it’s a campdraft—the weekend after that, and although the RFDS usually sends a plane and staff to those functions, we should still be there as it’s an opportunity to get to know the locals. Then there’s the—’

‘Stop right there!’ Nick held up his hand. ‘Now, back up. Start with this B and S ball—is that like the bulldust you talked of?’

‘You’ve never heard of a B and S ball?’ She shook her head. ‘Boy, you have led a sheltered life. B and S—bachelors and spinsters—is a country tradition. They’re held at different cattle or sheep stations all over the continent—hundreds of people turn up and not all from the country. Some young city folk will do anything to wangle an invitation. It’s also a bit of a ute convention as all the young men bring their utes and stand around comparing the modifications they’ve made to them—typical Aussie party, men in one group, women in the other.’

Nick was quite pleased that he didn’t have to ask for an explanation of ‘ute', his first vehicle having been an old utility he’d paid for himself, working at a fast-food outlet at weekends.

But he did need an explanation of why he’d be camping out at this festive occasion.

‘Do we go to the ball for the same reason we go to the rodeo—to meet the locals?’

Annabelle’s immediate reply was a dry chuckle, while her second wasn’t any more enlightening.

‘Wait and see,’ she told him, and returned to reading the paper.