The Nanny and the Millionaire

CHAPTER THREE

RILEY was thrilled out of his mind by the ride in the chopper. It was all so exciting! Marissa found it just as thrilling—her first time in a chopper, as well—but she managed to keep her youthful excitement under wraps. It would have taken them probably a gruelling hot and sweaty two hours to get to the station in the ute. By helicopter, they were over Wungalla, a staggeringly vast cattle station, verging into the Simpson desert, far too quickly.

A giant silver hangar was coming up. Erected on the outskirts of the huge station complex it comprised so many outbuildings to Marissa’s fascinated eyes it looked like a world to itself. The station name and logo were emblazoned in royal blue, yellow and white on the silver roof of the hangar that looked like it could comfortably house a couple of Boeing Airbuses. Another yellow chopper, similar to the one they were in, sat squat as a duck a short distance away from the hangar, several trucks and a couple of Jeeps parked nearby.

She fully expected Holt McMaster would land the chopper on the runway, instead they kept whirring on until they were right over what was obviously the home compound, a startlingly green oasis dotted with lovely shady trees and garden beds of various shapes. It came as an enormous surprise, set down as it was in the middle of a seemingly infinite desert. She had already learned the station’s longest boundary stretched for more than a hundred miles. Even walking from the airstrip to the homestead would be unthinkable.

During the flight her attention had been captured by the chains of billabongs, lagoons and water channels that crisscrossed the station like life giving veins. Impossible to believe those same sluggish waterways could rise tens of feet overnight spreading as much as fifty miles wide. This was drought country. No way of telling when the rains would come. The biggest hope lay in the overflow from the floodwaters in the monsoonal North carried down by the great western river system. Sometimes, if only rarely, the floodwaters reached Lake Eyre usually covered by a salt crust some fifteen feet deep.

The whole region was amazing. Vaulted blue skies, furnace-red earth, and in high contrast, the ghost gums—some said the most beautiful gums of all—their trunks a dazzling white against the fiery soil. It was a lonely, dramatic landscape, seemingly without borders. The authentic Australia, she supposed, its mystique celebrated in folk songs and poetry. It was amazingly easy to give herself over to it. This was a great adventure, as well as a job. She could hardly believe she had taken a few giant steps into the future.

They were standing in the driveway facing Wungalla homestead. Holt was giving instructions to a well-weathered individual who was dressed like a gardener, although a single gardener wouldn’t be able to handle the workload involved in looking after extensive grounds as big as the botanical gardens, Marissa thought.

‘Gosh, are we going to live here?’ Riley’s face was a study in amazement bordering on awe. ‘It must be a castle!’ he gasped.

‘It’s certainly very grand.’ Marissa lightly shook his trusting little hand.

Wungalla homestead, begun in the 1860s and added to over the years, gave an immediate impression of colonial splendour. Lord knows how much it would cost to build today, Marissa thought. Her early childhood home, architect designed had been among the best of contemporary homes, Uncle Bryan’s not quite so impressive, but this was Riley’s closest encounter with grandness.

Wungalla’s two-storey central section, the original homestead, was Georgian in style, flanked by long equally balanced one-storey wings, added at a later date. A broad verandah surrounded the house on three sides. Four pairs of shuttered French doors were ranged along the verandah to either side of the front door which lay wide-open. Incredibly a deep border of flourishing yellow roses ran to either side of the short flight of stone steps, not wilting but glowing in the shimmering heat.

Marissa like Riley stood transfixed, full of wonder and disbelief.

‘Gee, I hope they like us!’ Riley whispered.

‘What’s not to like?’ Marissa joked, in reality just as nervous as Riley. Holt McMaster had already warned her this wasn’t going to be easy.

‘Right, we’ll go in.’ Moving briskly, he joined them. ‘Hal will bring your things in and deliver them to your rooms. Though I have to say it doesn’t look like you intend to stay more than a day or two.’

Marissa flushed. ‘I couldn’t bring too much in the ute,’ she said. ‘If I was lucky enough to land a job I fully intended having the rest of our things sent out.’

Those black eyes mocked her gently. ‘My dear Ms Devlin, not only could that prove to be interminable, it could blow your nest egg. Some time next week I’ll fly you in to Coorabri. It’s much bigger than Ransom, and it does have a surprisingly good clothing store. Western clothing, that is.’

‘And what do I do for money?’ Marissa quipped, intending it only as a rhetorical question.

‘Charge it up to the station,’ he said promptly. ‘It so happens we have a pretty good clothing store here but it doesn’t cater to little boys and slips of girls.’

She wasn’t a slip of a girl. She was a professional woman. ‘Are we expected?’ She lifted serious eyes.

‘You mustn’t worry about that!’

‘Then we’re not expected?’

‘Don’t take it to heart, Ms Devlin. I wanted you to be a big surprise.’ He glanced down at Riley, directly addressing him ‘Go forth and conquer, Riley!’

Riley who had been smiling, suddenly looked shaken. ‘That’s what Daddy used to say.’ His voice wobbled. How terrible it was to think his daddy was no longer there for him.

‘And it was good advice! Where is Daddy?’ Holt asked, placing his hand on Riley’s shoulder.

Marissa intervened. ‘I told you. Talking about it only makes Riley very upset.’

Holt shook his head. ‘He’s too young to handle it all on his own. Haven’t you ever heard the truth will set you free?’

‘I’ve told you the truth.’ Colour came to her cheeks, fire to her eyes.

‘Don’t flash those blue eyes at me, Ms Devlin,’ he lightly warned, ‘though I dare say it’s relieving your feelings. Anyway, come on up. Olly is bound to be out in a minute.’

Marissa halted, to ask. ‘What do we call you, Mr McMaster?’

His laugh was short. ‘If you look at me like that, every man in the world might want to be Mr McMaster.’ He tried it out on his tongue. ‘It sounds very proper! Anyway, it’ll do for a start.’ He mussed Riley’s hair. ‘We don’t want to go scaring the locals.’

A woman had come to the front door to greet them, a big welcoming smile on her face. She was in her late fifties, early sixties, Marissa estimated, dressed in a plain blue dress with white cuffs and white collar. As tall and wiry as Deidre was short and stout she had a similar look of laconic good humour.

‘You’ve brought visitors then, Holt?’ she asked, looking at Marissa and Riley with considerable interest. ‘Alike as two peas in a pod.’

He smiled. ‘Isn’t that the truth! I must have brought hundreds of visitors over the years, Olly, but these two are here to earn their keep. I’d like to introduce Marissa and Riley Devlin. Marissa has just signed on as the new governess. She wouldn’t come without Riley and Riley wouldn’t come without Dusty, his faithful Blue Heeler. Riley will be joining Georgia for lessons. Dusty who hasn’t arrived yet—he’s in their ute driven back by Bart—is also in need of a job.’

‘You’re serious, Holt?’ Olly flashed a glance at him, her expression comical.

‘When am I not serious, Olly?’ he appealed to her.

‘When you don’t care to be,’ she said. Evidently she wasn’t in awe of the great man. ‘So, Marissa, Riley …’ She shook hands with each in turn. ‘Welcome to Wungalla. We haven’t had a governess here for a while, but we do need one. Is this your first time out West?’ she asked Marissa, her eyes dwelling rather worriedly on Marissa’s porcelain skin.

‘Yes, and we’re fascinated by what we’ve seen.’ Marissa was enormously relieved Wungalla’s housekeeper was so kind and welcoming. ‘I have good qualifications, Ms …?’

‘Olly will do, love,’ the housekeeper said, sounding very much like Deidre. ‘That’s goes for you, too, young fella. Now come in. I expect you’d like some morning tea, or you could wait for lunch. It’s not long off?’

‘Lunch will be fine, Olly,’ Holt McMaster said, settling the matter. ‘Meanwhile you and Marissa can sort out which rooms they want? Where’s everyone?’

Olly sounded faintly sardonic. ‘Mrs McMaster is in her room. It’s not one of her good days I’m sorry to say. Miss Lois is out riding but should be back soon. Georgy is out in the garden somewhere playing with Zoltan. That’s her imaginary friend.’ She gave Riley a wink.

Riley lifted fascinated eyes. ‘She has an imaginary friend? Isn’t that funny? So did I. His name was Nali. He was a member of the Emu tribe.’

‘So what happened to him?’ Olly asked, seemingly with genuine interest.

Riley shook his head with regret. ‘Nali wanted to stay with me, but the rest of the tribe wanted to go walkabout. He was just a boy like me but his uncle was a tribal elder and a powerful medicine man. Nali had to do what he was told.’

‘I should think so. Disobeying a powerful medicine man isn’t exactly a laughing matter,’ Holt said. ‘We have an ex-kadaicha man on Wungalla, although I don’t believe he’s completely shut up shop. I’ll introduce you one day.’

‘Oh, that would be great!’ Riley regarded Holt McMaster with such a look of approval and respect. Marissa felt a momentary pang of ignoble jealousy. ‘May I go find Georgia, sir?’ he asked.

Marissa shook her head. ‘You’ll meet her soon, Riley.’ She didn’t want to curb his high spirits at the same time she thought they should take time to negotiate their way.

‘Don’t worry about him, he’s fine,’ Holt decided. ‘She’s out in the garden somewhere.’

Riley laughed happily. ‘I really want us to be friends.’

Marissa forced herself to stay quiet. Making friends with a little person given to profligate tantrums might be easier said than done. On the other hand Riley could have a calming effect. His was the sunniest of natures when his short life had been full of troubles.

‘Then off you go.’ Holt McMaster gave him the okay. ‘You’ve got plenty of space to play in. Don’t go outside the compound wall?’

‘Yes, sir!’ Riley called, his small figure already flying down the steps.

‘Right, I’ve got things to do,’ Holt clipped off, ‘but I won’t say no to lunch. Make it 1:00 p.m., Olly. Meanwhile you can get Ms Devlin settled.’

‘No problem,’ Olly answered in the way that made Marissa feel very much at ease. So far so good. She thought she could even get used to Holt McMaster’s sardonic ways. ‘Come on love. Follow me,’ Olly said. ‘Where’s your luggage by the way?’

‘Hal is bringing it in,’ Holt turned back to remark. ‘What there is of it. Marissa believes in travelling light.’

‘Never mind, love,’ Olly said comfortably. ‘There’s a really good store in Coorabri,’ unknowingly echoing her boss’s comment, ‘where you’ll be able to buy a few outfits for yourself and the boy. Beautiful child, I must say.’

Marissa prepared herself for yet another explanation of their relationship. Olly, like most people, probably assumed Riley was hers. ‘He’s as beautiful inside as out,’ she said proudly.

‘Let’s hope some of it brushes off on Georgia,’ Holt McMaster said before taking off down the steps.

He had all the grace of a natural born athlete, Marissa thought, looking after him. It was difficult not to. And something of a dancer thrown in. He was without question the most stunning looking man she had ever seen outside her own beloved father.

When she turned around, Olly’s shrewd blue eyes were studying her. ‘Come along now, love. Let’s get you settled before lunch. You won’t be meeting Mrs McMaster, Holt’s grandmother, today but Georgia’s aunt, Lois Aldridge, as I expect you know, will be back soon for lunch. You ride yourself?’ Olly asked, not sounding terribly hopeful the answer would be in the affirmative.

‘Yes, I do,’ Marissa said, her eyes moving irresistibly all around the spacious entrance hall. The most transcendent feature was a very grand divided staircase with a huge stained-glass panel towering above the landing. The colours in the panel were simply wonderful! Graceful black wrought-iron balustrades encased the mahogany staircase. The floor was a traditional black and white marble. A circular library table stood on a circular Persian rug, centred beneath a huge crystal chandelier. The table displayed to advantage a stunning flower arrangement of masses of yellow roses, pine and dried twisted vines in a large Byzantine-gold container. There were paintings, as well. A console with a tall gilded mirror above it, two matching antique chairs with gilded bronze winged panthers supporting the arms, there just wasn’t time to take everything in. Obviously this was a house of serious collectors.

‘That’s a blessing,’ Olly was saying, sounding relieved. ‘The last lass never could get the hang of it. One simply has to be able to ride on a station. What about young Riley?’

‘He’s a natural,’ Marissa told her.

‘Like mother, like son.’

Marissa had to make the relationship plain. ‘He’s my brother, Olly. Half brother really. He’s my late father’s.’

Olly swung about, clasping her hands together as though in prayer. ‘Then where’s his mother, child?’

‘She’s gone and she won’t be coming back,’ Marissa said, her voice matter-of-fact.

‘Good Lord! This must be very hard for you, Marissa.’ Olly paused, one hand on a newel. ‘You’re what, twenty-two, twenty-three?’

‘Nearly twenty-four. It is hard, but I have a big consolation. I love Riley. He’s my family.’

‘Of course he is, love.’ Without further comment Olly began to mount the staircase, taking the left hand side to the upper gallery also balustraded in the same decorative wrought-iron.

Whether Olly believed her was anyone’s guess. With Riley constantly addressing her as Ma, it was becoming increasingly difficult to be believed. Yet she couldn’t break him of the habit. Having a stable mother figure in his life loomed very large in Riley’s mind.

The long corridors had polished floors with Persian runners absorbing their footsteps. The walls were showcases for portraits of the McMaster ancestors, a handsome, rather arrogant looking lot like the present owner. Splendid looking chairs stood at intervals if one wanted to sit and admire them.

Olly paused as they came towards the end of the atmospheric hallway. ‘The old schoolroom’s in here, love.’ She opened the door, inviting Marissa to enter.

‘This has been here a while,’ Marissa observed, gazing around the large room.

‘Since the house was built.’ Olly nodded. ‘Quite a few little McMasters have studied here. Holt among them. Think you’ll be happy here?’

Marissa smiled. ‘Indeed I will! I’m very grateful for this job, Olly. It means I can have Riley with me I’m happy already!’ The room was a little on the sombre side—nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a touch of colour—but in perfect order. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with books, well thumbed for the most part, some even dog-eared. A large blackboard was set up near the windows. What looked like the original desks and chairs of some dark golden timber stood in neat rows, ten desks in all. Two marvellous globes on stands caught the eye, terrestrial, celestial.

‘Does Georgia do her lessons here?’ Marissa asked. If she did there was no sign of it.

‘Miss Lois prefers to conduct the lessons down in the Garden Room,’ Olly said. Was that the merest trace of disapproval in her voice? ‘If I might divulge a little secret—just between you and me—not many lessons are going on. I best warn you if Holt hasn’t already done so, little Georgy is a bit of a handful.’

Marissa spoke without thinking. ‘I would never have thought so with a father like that?’

‘Meaning?’ Olly’s sparse eyebrows shot up.

‘I can’t imagine anyone with the temerity to step out of line.’

Olly laughed. ‘Holt can cope with anything and does, but Georgy would break anyone’s heart.’

‘She wants her mother.’ Marissa had great sympathy for the motherless little girl.

‘She wants a mother,’ Olly corrected. ‘Tragically her mother didn’t want her. Georgy is only little but she knows this. Abandonment is at the heart of her problems. You’ll be the one to understand.’

‘Oh, I do, Olly.’ Marissa’s blue eyes misted over. ‘I’m hoping the children take to one another.’

‘Don’t expect results right away, love,’ Olly warned. ‘Come on now. I’ll show you your rooms. They’re across the hallway. Riley can have the room next to yours,’ she said. ‘If you like them, I’ll have them aired and the beds made up.’

Both rooms had lovely views of the rear gardens, though she realised all the rooms would have a view and wonder of wonders there was a fenced swimming pool. ‘That’s not a mirage is it?’ Marissa asked, her eyes on the sparkling turquoise water. Swimming would build Riley up and help his condition. She was a good swimmer herself. She had made the University swim team. To the right of the pool was an open sided pool house with an orange terra cotta tiled roof. The stout pillars that supported the roof were wreathed in flowering morning glories. She could see sofas, tables, dining chairs, comfortable chaises. Great!

‘Used all the time, love,’ Olly told her casually. ‘It’s there to be enjoyed. You’ll have plenty of time to yourself. Holt’s father had it built for Holt and the girls.’

Marissa had to confront her lack of inside information. ‘He has sisters? Forgive me, but I only met Mr McMaster today.’

‘Seems he took a great liking to you,’ Olly observed laconically.

‘I wouldn’t say that exactly—’ Marissa shook her head, not believing he had ‘—but he did want to help us.’

‘That’s Holt.’ Olly shrugged. ‘He has two sisters, Alex—Alexandra—three years older married to the Steven Bailey, merchant banker turned politician, some say Prime Minister in waiting, and Francine, two years younger, a dedicated career woman, finance, not as yet married. Holt’s father died in a tragic accident on the property not long after Holt was married. His mother remarried last year. She now lives in Melbourne, but she visits often.

‘Holt’s grandmother, Catherine, has never left Wungalla for any length of time since she came here as a bride. There have been many trips, of course. She has family in England but this is her home. She won’t be parted from Holt or Wungalla. Holt is his mother’s maiden name, by the way. He was christened Douglas Holt McMaster, but the Douglas never took. It was his uncle Carson, his mother’s brother who started calling him Holt. He has the Holt dark eyes and that distinctive widow’s peak. He must have told you he was divorced?’ Olly looked Marissa right in the eye.

‘He mentioned it briefly,’ Marissa said. ‘I can’t believe my good fortune, Olly. These rooms have everything we could possibly want.’

Olly’s expression softened. ‘You don’t have to dash down the hallway to get to the bathroom, either, love. Each bedroom and there are twelve have been fitted with an en suite’ She made a moue with her mouth as she said it. ‘The rooms were big enough to allow for the renovations. If you want to make your surroundings a bit nicer there are things galore out in the storerooms. Such a lot of stuff overflowed from the house. I’m sure Holt won’t mind if you pick out a few things. We aim to keep you happy.’

Marissa felt a knot in her throat. ‘More than that I want to make everyone else happy,’ she said. ‘I love teaching. Riley picks up on everything so quickly.’

‘Maybe Georgia can learn from that.’ Olly’s breath ended on a sigh.

‘I expect Georgia knows how to swim?’ Marissa took another peep at the glittering pool.

‘Some hope!’ Olly said. ‘She hates the water.’

‘That’s hard to believe,’ Marissa said, much surprised. ‘I thought everyone loved the water. Riley is a great little swimmer for his age. Once Georgia sees him enjoying himself in the water she might feel differently.’

‘Don’t get your hopes up, love. Ah, this will be Hal with your luggage.’ Olly went to the doorway, waving a hand.

Hal duly arrived, putting the two pieces of luggage down, then he turned and looked at Marissa. ‘You haven’t got much here have you, girlie?’ He sweetened the remark with a smile.

Olly elbowed him hard in the ribs. ‘No need for you to worry about that, Hal.’

‘Only remarkin’.’ Hal’s voice took on an aggrieved note. ‘You’re such a tartar, Olly!’

Olly couldn’t stop herself from giving him another hard nudge.

‘Actually I have plenty of clothes, Hal,’ Marissa said. ‘Only they’re in Brisbane where I come from.’

‘You and the boy?’ He gave her a sort of conspiratorial wink.

Marissa took it as yet another sign of misconception. ‘Riley is my little brother.’

Hal flashed a quick look at Olly. ‘Whatever you say, miss. You sure don’t look like anyone’s mother, a delicate creature like you. How come you talk so fancy?’

‘Unlike you, Hal Brady, Marissa had a good education,’ Olly said sternly. ‘Now off you go. The garden calls.’

‘Got my runnin’ shoes on already.’ Hal grinned. He sketched a quick salute, then made his exit.

‘Real old woman is Hal,’ Olly muttered, her face slightly heated. ‘But he means well. Just to keep you goin’, I’ve got a pile of Fran’s things stored away. She doesn’t wear them anymore. You’d be of a size. She’s very slim, though she’s taller than you, darn near six feet. All the McMasters are tall. I’ll pull a few things out for you later on.’

Marissa felt touched but embarrassed. ‘I can get through until Mr McMaster takes me shopping, Olly. He said he would.’

‘Why let perfectly good things go to waste? Fran sure doesn’t need ‘em. She’s a regular clothes horse. Besides, didn’t you tell me you had to save up for young Riley’s education?’

‘Yes, I do.’ Marissa moved to give Olly a spontaneous hug. ‘Thank you for being so nice to me. It means a lot.’

Olly’s narrow face blossomed with colour. ‘That’s okay, love. I reckon you need a little TLC. Well,’ she said brightly, moving to the door, ‘I’ll leave you to settle in. Lunch at one. You might want to find young Riley before then. I haven’t heard any screeches, I have to admit I was rather expecting a few, so the children must be getting on, or Riley can’t find her. She has a hundred hiding places.’

‘Don’t worry, Olly.’ Marissa went to the window, looking out. ‘I’ll go find them in a minute or two. Riley is an amazing little person. Georgia will find it hard to quarrel with him.’

Olly’s gaze was sceptical. ‘I hate to say it, but Georgy could quarrel with a stone. She’s getting too much for me and I do my best, but Georgy is as wilfully moody as her mother.’

Left alone Marissa had a quick wash to freshen up. She changed her striped shirt for a nicer one, an embroidered T-shirt in the shade of red that suited her colouring so well. That done, she brushed out her hair, then took the time to put their things away. Some of the clothes needed ironing. Marj had let her use the washing machine and the dryer at the pub, but some things demanded ironing to look good.

She was very happy with their rooms. They were generously sized, both with queen-size beds and comfortable armchairs. Above her bed was a grouping of botanical prints in handsome gold frames; above Riley’s a collection of prints of thoroughbreds. He would love those. It was accommodation any governess used to a shoe box and blank walls would die for.

She should have asked where Georgia’s bedroom was but she would find out soon enough. From all accounts six-year-old Georgia was a real handful with all attempts at discipline washing off her like water. She had also learned Georgia had a mercurial personality like her mother. The mother who had abandoned her as Riley’s mother had abandoned him. That was one big thing they would have in common, although Riley had come to terms with his mother’s abandonment while Georgia sounded like she was furious about it. Probably all the tantrums were a cry for attention. Holt McMaster might be doing his level best for her but he didn’t particularly sound the doting dad. She disapproved of that. Georgia would need an awful lot of reassurance.