Secrets Of The Outback. Margaret Way
than covered the price of the martinis. “Thanks, Archie.”
“A pleasure, Mr. Connellan. Good evening, Ms. Bishop.” Archie accepted the money and all but skipped off.
“I don’t want this drink,” Jewel said, feeling as nerve-ridden as if there were ghosts at the table.
“Just sip it,” he replied. “I’d like to continue this…unique conversation.”
“Why? I’m beginning to wonder if you’re slightly unhinged,” she suggested shortly.
The comment caused him to smile. “I don’t think so. Whoever you are, Eugenie Bishop, you’re not presenting your case—if you have one—in the right way.”
“I have no case,” she said angrily. “It’s all in your mind. In any event, I’m flying home this weekend. I’ll speak to my mother then.”
“So she can come up with an explanation? Or perhaps tell you what you should do next?”
She returned his stare coolly. “My mother isn’t a well woman.”
“I’m sorry. What’s wrong with her?”
Her blue eyes flashed. “She suffers from chronic depression. She’s done so for many years.”
“But surely she can be treated?” he asked, unexpectedly showing concern.
“There doesn’t seem to be anything the doctors can do—and they’ve tried.”
“Who’s looking after her?”
She stiffened, although this time his tone was anything but confrontational. “I wanted her to come and live with me. But she dislikes change. She lives with my aunt Judith, her sister, in the family home.”
“So there are only the three of you? No one else?”
“Unless you’ve come up with someone,” she said with more than a touch of bitterness. “My father’s death brought about great changes in our lives. My mother has been in deep mourning all these years.”
“I’m sorry. That’s tragic.” He drank a little of his martini, set it down. “It must have affected your whole world.”
“Of course.” Jewel didn’t touch her drink.
“So you sought to correct the past?”
Jewel suddenly reached flash point. She rose from her seat like the jet from the sparkling fountain. “My father was killed. It was a tragedy. Forgive me if I can’t speak about it.”
She left him sitting at the table, indifferent to the fascinated eyes that watched her progress across the room and into the lobby.
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS A LONG TRIP HOME. Two hours in the plane, another hour before she reached Hungerford by minibus, then the town taxi out to the house. The heat did not help her mood. She had almost forgotten how hot it was North of Capricorn, how humid. The driver left her at the gate. She picked up her overnight bag and began the trek through the garden, and its extraordinary lush beauty began the ritual soothing.
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