Bangalore. Roger Crook

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      “Alice said you're a pilot.”

      Rachael took hold of his hand. “Come and talk to us under the bough shed. We can sit down there.”

      As they walked the few metres to the gazebo-like structure Pat noticed Ali had a pronounced limp. As if reading her mind Rachael asked him, “Leg no better?”

      “Not really, Rach. This weather seems to stir it up. It’s all right when I’m riding, but the motor bike gets it going.”

      “Well, I’ve told you, they can work wonders these days, but the longer you leave it, the older you get, the more difficult it becomes. You should have it done.”

      He laughed at her. “Yes, Doctor. I’ve told you the only way that I’ll have it done is if you are there as my nurse.”

      “Then you’ll have to come to Sydney.”

      “What, for a month?”

      “You can stay with me.”

      “What about the re-hab, physio and all that? I can’t go off into Carnarvon twice a week.”

      “Then you’ll have to stay for three months.”

      Now seated facing each other across the table Ali looked at Rachael. “Can’t do that. Might get to like it.”

      Rachael was looking into his eyes. “What, me or Sydney?”

      For a moment he just looked at her, oblivious of Pat. Neither of them really smiled. Rachael returned his gaze; there was a challenge in her eyes.

      Without answering her challenge he smiled and said, “Angus couldn’t manage on his own for three months out here anyway.”

      “You haven’t answered my question, and yes he could.”

      Ali stood up, “Must get going, Princess. Got a yard full of horses; better go and feed ’em before it gets dark.” The horse he’d been riding was pulling on tussocks of green around the pool. Rachael got up and walked to it with him, holding his hand. Before he got on the horse he put his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him. Rachael kissed him and the kiss lasted for long enough for Pat to realise that both Rachael and Ali might have been happier if she hadn’t been there.

      On the short trip back to the homestead Rachael answered the question posed by the kiss. “Ali and I have been lovers since I was about sixteen. Don’t know how I didn’t get pregnant… long school holidays. The doctor at school was good. I went to her, worried and frightened; she put me on the pill.”

      “You miss him?”

      “Ali, is a constant ache in me. I’m just over thirty now. I left this place to go to medical school when I was nineteen, I think to please my mother. She was a huge influence on me when I was young, dominant in many ways.” They reached the homestead and put the Mercedes in the bough shed. Rachael didn’t move to get out. “I did medicine in Perth so I got home at the end of every semester. As time went by going back to Perth got harder and harder, but for some bloody reason I kept on doing it. Then I started working at Princess Margaret with kids and babies; time passed. Then I got offered this job in Sydney and the chance to do some further study…so, I don’t know why, I took it.”

      “What did Ali say?”

      “What he always bloody says – nothing. He just said it’s a long way to Sydney.”

      “How long since you’ve seen him?”

      “Nearly twelve months. I’ve been out with other men, but every time I do I think of Ali and it just ends. I think some of my colleagues think I’m gay.” With a rueful little laugh Rachael said, “C’mon, let’s go and have a shower, I’m getting hungry and I could do with a beer.”

      Chapter 7.

       The long wait.

      Even though Angus had said that he would cook the dinner, Rachael finished up organising everybody and being the life of the small party. The tension between her and Michelle had dissipated and they chatted happily as they set the table under the veranda and close to a blaze of bougainvillea. They lit the mosquito coils and the citronella torches, putting candles on the table to compliment the soft lights hidden in the bougainvillea.

      Rachael let the heat of the gas-fired barbecue build up until she was satisfied and then called everyone to choose what they wanted for dinner. Soon the air was filled with the smell of cooking. Alice had prepared a favourite of Rachael’s, Tandoori chicken. A simple marinade of yoghurt and Tandoori spices. For those who didn’t want chicken, there were home-made sausages and marinated mutton chops.

      Absent-mindedly, Pat stood looking at one of the flaming torches and thought the combination of the torches and the smell of Tandoori suited the moment – not only was she at a place called Bangalore, but the naked flames together with the aroma of exotic spices reminded her of her tour in Afghanistan, of markets and dark eyes and the smell of cooking and strange spices.

      Then she looked at her watch, eight o’clock. Four o’clock in Afghanistan. If the search and rescue team were to leave at first light they would have been briefed. If they had decided to go in the dark using satellite navigation and night vision they would be resting, waiting. Waiting for darkness so they could get into their helicopters, weapons ready, medics ready, rotors slapping, then go chattering low over the treacherous landscape of Afghanistan homing in on Ewen and his party and telling them and whoever was trying to kill them, telling the Taliban, they were coming.

      She felt an arm round her shoulder. “No good giving you a penny for your thoughts; it’s written all over your face.” It was Angus. He gave her a glass of wine.

      “Sorry, Angus. I was miles away.”

      “Night flying in Afghanistan?”

      “Mmm.”

      “Come and sit down. Rachael is just finishing.”

      Everyone did their best to make light conversation during the meal. The flickering candles and the burning torches gave an eerie light. At any other time it would have been a warm and friendly, even romantic, atmosphere. Now it was different. Shadows on faces showed the strain they were under. Michelle looked tired. A couple of times while she was talking she had rested her head on Roddy’s shoulder and stopped mid-sentence but then started again. Once when she stopped and started again, she talked about something entirely different. Nobody mentioned it.

      Pat sat between Rachael and Angus on one side of the table. Mostly they all pecked and pushed their food round their plates – only Angus and Roddy finished their meal. Michelle didn’t eat anything except for a bit of salad.

      Rachael cleared away the plates and returned from the kitchen with a bowl of fruit and a platter of cheese and dry biscuits. Angus opened a bottle of his best Margaret River Shiraz and an old bottle of wooded chardonnay and they sat, sipped, nibbled and talked. Pat felt alone, desolate, and Rachael, as if she knew, held her hand, and they grew closer.

      Angus felt empty and apprehensive. He’d never felt like it before. He’d never had to examine his feelings for those СКАЧАТЬ