‘Penelope Hindmarsh-Firth.’ He was laughing at her but she could take it, she decided. She should be used to people laughing at her by now. ‘And I’m the owner of one pink car and one white poodle.’
‘And a teapot,’ he reminded her.
‘Thank you. Yes.’ She concentrated on negotiating an extra deep rut in the road.
‘Penelope...’ Matt said as the road levelled again.
‘Penny.’
‘Penny,’ he repeated. ‘Did you say Hindmarsh-Firth?’
And her heart sank. He knows, she thought, but there was no sense denying it.
‘Yes.’
‘Of the Hindmarsh-Firth Corporation?’
‘I don’t work for them.’ Not any more. She said it almost defiantly.
‘But you’re connected.’
‘I might be.’
‘The way I heard it,’ he said slowly, seemingly thinking as he spoke, ‘is that George Hindmarsh, up-and-coming investment banker, married Louise Firth, only daughter of a mining magnate worth billions. Hindmarsh-Firth is now a financial empire that has tentacles worldwide. You’re part of that Hindmarsh-Firth family?’
‘They could be my parents,’ she muttered. ‘But I’m still not part of it.’
‘I see.’
He didn’t, she thought. He couldn’t. He’d have no idea of what it was like growing up in that goldfish bowl, with her father’s ego. He’d have no idea why she’d finally had to run.
‘So if I rang up the newspapers now and said I’ve just pulled a woman called Penelope Hindmarsh-Firth out of a creek, they wouldn’t be interested?’
No! ‘Please don’t,’ she whispered and then repeated it, louder, so she was sure he could hear. She was suddenly very close to tears.
‘I won’t,’ he told her, his voice suddenly softening. ‘Believe me, I have no wish for media choppers to be circling. Though...’
‘Though what?’
‘There’s someone I need to get here,’ he told her. ‘It’d almost be worth it—I could tell them they could find you here as long as they brought Pete with them.’
‘Pete?’
She hit a bump. The car jolted and the teapot bounced and clanged against the pots underneath it.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said roughly. ‘I won’t do it. I can understand your situation might well cause humiliation. I assume you’re heading to Malley’s to get out of the spotlight?’
‘Yes,’ she said and could have wept with gratitude.
‘Then you’ve come to the right place,’ he told her. ‘And this is a lot cleaner than Malley’s. Jindalee has plenty of spare bedrooms, though most are in desperate need of a good dust. As long as you and Samson keep out of my way, you’re welcome to hunker down for as long as the flood lasts.’
And then they topped the last rise before the house and Penny was so astounded she stalled the car.
The rain clouds up north must have visited here a while back because the pastures were lush and green. The property was vast and undulating. There were low hills rolling away as far as the eye could see. The land was dotted with stands of magnificent gums. She could see the occasional flock of sheep in the distance, white against green.
But the house... It took her breath away.
It was a real homestead, built a hundred or more years ago. It sat on a slight rise, huge, long and low, built of whitewashed stone. French windows opened to the vast verandas and soft white curtains fluttered out into the warm afternoon breeze. Grapevines massed under the veranda and massive old settees sat under their shade. An ancient dog lay on the top step by the front door as if he was guarding the garden.
And what a garden. It looked almost like an oasis in the middle of this vast grazing property. Even from here she could see the work, the care...
Wisteria hung from massive beamed walkways. She could see rockwork, the same sandstone that lined the creeks, used to merge levels into each other. Bougainvillea, salvia, honeysuckle... Massive trees that looked hundreds of years old. A rock pool with a waterfall that looked almost natural. Roses, roses and more roses.
And birds. As they approached the house a flock of crimson rosellas rose screeching from the gums, wheeling above their heads as if to get a better look, and then settled again.
For why wouldn’t they settle? This place looked like paradise.
‘Oh, my...’ She slowed to a halt. She needed to stop and take it all in.
And Matt pulled his horse to a halt as well. He sat watching her.
‘This is... Oh...’ She could hardly speak.
‘Home,’ Matt said and she could feel the love in his voice. And suddenly every doubt about staying here went out of the window.
He loved this place. He loved this garden and surely no one who loved as much as this could be an axe murderer?
‘Who does this?’ she stammered. She’d tried gardening in the past. It had been a thankless task as her parents moved from prestige property to prestige property, but she knew enough to know that such a seemingly casual, natural garden represented more hard work than she could imagine. ‘Your wife?’ she asked. ‘Or...’
‘I don’t have a wife,’ he said, suddenly curt, and she thought instinctively that there was a story there. ‘But I do have someone helping me in the garden. Donald loves it as much as I do. He’s in his eighties now but he won’t slow down.’
‘Your dad? Grandpa?’
‘No.’ Once more his reply was curt and she knew suddenly that she needed to back off. This guy wasn’t into personal interrogation. ‘Donald owned this place before I bought it. He’s stayed on because of the garden.’
‘That’s lovely,’ she breathed.
‘It is,’ he said and he wasn’t talking of Donald. His eyes skimmed the house, the garden, the country around them and she saw his face soften. ‘There’s nowhere I’d rather be.’
She gazed around her, at the low lying hills, at the rich pasture, at the massive gum trees, at the sheer age and beauty of the homestead which seemed to nestle into its surroundings as if it had grown there. ‘How much of this do you own?’ she breathed.
‘As far as you can see and more.’ It was impossible for him to hide the pride in his voice.
‘Oh, wow!’ The property must be vast. She sat and soaked it in, and something in her settled. Who could be fearful or even heartbroken in a place like this?
Okay, she was still heartbroken but maybe she could put it aside.
‘What’s the building over there?’ A low shed built of ancient handmade bricks sat under the gum trees in the distance. It looked so old it practically disappeared into the landscape.
‘That’s the shearing shed. The shearers’ quarters are behind that.’
And suddenly she was diverted from the farm’s beauty.
‘There’s a dozen trucks. At least.’
‘They belong to the shearing team. We start at dawn. You’ll need to keep out of the way.’
‘Oh, but...’ Surely with so many...
‘No,’ he said, seeing where she was heading and cutting her off before she got started. ‘No one’s driving you anywhere. You’ll find an empty garage around the back. I need to take care of Nugget and talk to the men before