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taking me on a wild-goose chase?’

      ‘No.’

      She stared at him, read the determination in his eyes and turned away abruptly. ‘All right, I’m all packed. We’ll have to unhitch the car from the horse-box. If you’d care to go down and do that—if you’re capable of doing that—I’ll be down in a minute. Have you any objections—not that you’ll be able to stop me—if I ring my father and tell him where I’ll be?’

      ‘So long as he doesn’t make you change your mind, no. All the same, I’ll wait while you do it.’

      ‘What do you think I might be tempted to do instead?’ she taunted.

      ‘Heaven knows,’ he said drily.

      Georgia glared at him then picked up the phone. But her father was already in court and unavailable, and all she could do was leave a message with his secretary to the effect that she was going to Sydney with one William Brady, as well as Neil Dettweiler’s name and the name of the hospital he was in. ‘Satisfied?’ she said coldly as she put the phone down.

      ‘Yes. Don’t you talk to your mother?’

      ‘Of course I do. I’m just not sure where she is—other than that she’s up on the Darling Downs visiting family, of which she has a whole army, and is due home late today or tomorrow. Besides…’ She paused.

      ‘Go on.’

      ‘Oh, well…’ She shrugged. ‘My mother worries.’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘Then off you go and unhitch the horse-box. I will be down, I promise you.’

      ‘Very well, Miss Newnham.’

      * * *

      When Georgia appeared with her bag, her car, which was in fact a powerful Landcruiser, was waiting at the bottom of the steps with William Brady in the driver’s seat.

      ‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ she said, striding round the driver’s door. ‘It’s my car and I’ll drive it.’

      He simply shrugged, got out and got in the other side. ‘Let me know when you need a break.’

      She flung her bag in the back, got in and revved the engine, called goodbye to Brenda and drove off spinning the wheels. The rain had stopped but it was still cloudy and cold. They said nothing to each other as she negotiated the western suburbs of Brisbane and the heavy traffic along Waterworks Road, until finally she gained the South Eastern Freeway.

      Then he did say, casually, ‘You drive well, Georgia.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      ‘Are we going to drive all the way to Sydney in a stony silence?’

      ‘Why not?’ she replied laconically, and switched on the windscreen wipers as the rain started to pour again. She was suddenly moved to add, ‘You don’t like me, I don’t like you—what point is there in idle chit-chat?’

      ‘You seem to like me even less today than you did last night,’ he commented.

      ‘I do,’ she said baldly.

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Well, I’m sure you don’t like me any more today than you did last night for one thing, and for another, taking advantage of little girls and sending them goosebumpy doesn’t recommend you to me at all.’

      He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. ‘What—do you mean young Brenda?’

      ‘Precisely’

      ‘But I didn’t do anything,’ he protested mildly. ‘I give you my word.’

      ‘Nevertheless, it got done,’ Georgia replied—quite irrationally, she realised, but didn’t care.

      ‘I’m not quite sure what I can say to that—’

      ‘Don’t bother,’ she flashed at him, then swore beneath her breath as the traffic slowed to a crawl.

      ‘Georgia, you’ll be a nervous wreck if you don’t…just let go a bit,’ he advised.

      ‘Why should I let go? The last thing I want to be doing is driving to Sydney in this weather, with a man I don’t like, on a mission that’s not going to do any good, and with my back ki—’ She broke off abruptly.

      ‘Ah, I thought your back was killing you—why didn’t you say so?’ he said exasperatedly. ‘Look, pull up at the next lay-by and let me drive, at least.’

      She set her mouth stubbornly, then sighed suddenly. ‘All right.’

      ‘How did it happen?’ he asked a few minutes later, after they’d made the change and were on the road again. ‘Your back?’

      ‘I fell off a horse,’ Georgia said bleakly. ‘It’s only a pulled muscle.’

      ‘Did you get straight back on again?’

      ‘As a matter of fact, I did—why?’

      ‘I don’t know why, but I was pretty sure you would have.’

      ‘What does that make me? Quite mad on top of everything else you think about me?’

      ‘No. Quite wise—isn’t that what one should always do?’

      Georgia cast him a narrowed, frustrated glance. ‘You didn’t make it sound wise at all!’

      He smiled faintly. ‘The trouble is, I’m valiantly trying to make conversation with you and not getting much help. Uh—let’s try another tack. You said you had two hacks?’

      Georgia’s face softened despite herself. ‘Yes, Wendell and Connie. Her name’s actually Constancy, and she…well, we almost grew up together, so I’ve got a very soft spot for her.’

      ‘What about Wendell?’

      Georgia’s expression grew indignant and fiery as she said, ‘Some people should be shot, you know!’

      ‘How so?’

      She moved and settled her back against the improvised cushion they’d made of her coat. ‘He was abandoned, apparently, in a paddock with absolutely no feed. He was full of worms, thin as a rake and he’d damaged a tendon in his off-fore. He was quite pitiful when I found him.’

      ‘He looks a picture of health now.’

      ‘He does, doesn’t he?’ Georgia said contentedly, then grimaced wryly. ‘Whilst Connie is like my best friend, Wendell is a bit like my own kid.’

      William Brady murmured, ‘Well, you’ve got quite a family, haven’t you?’

      Georgia’s contentment faded and she looked away.

      ‘What have I said now?’ he asked.

      ‘Nothing.’

      

      About an hour later, he pulled into a service station, topped up the petrol and disappeared into the shop. He came out with a carton of food and two cups of coffee in plastic cups. They’d passed through the Gold Coast and were winding along the banks of the Tweed river towards Murwillumbah. He drove for a couple more miles then pulled off the road beside a picnic spot with tables and benches. The weather had cleared and it was pleasantly peaceful beside the river, surrounded by the cane-fields.

      ‘We’ll have a little break,’ he said.

      ‘I should have thought of bringing some food,’ Georgia said inconsequentially as she sat on top of one of the tables eating an indifferent ham sandwich—then grimaced.

      William Brady contemplated her in silence for a moment, then said, ‘You’re a strange mixture, Georgia Newnham. A lot more domesticated than one would have imagined.’

      Georgia eyed him sceptically. ‘I’m sure that’s not meant as a compliment, Mr Shakespeare.’

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