She handed him a steaming cup and then sat opposite him, curling her legs beneath her and hugging the mug of coffee to her chest as if for comfort.
‘I guess this brings back bad memories for you,’ he said gently.
Ally felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. She had told Fletcher just about everything there was to know about her and she guessed that he was referring to her own parents’ death in an aeroplane crash when she was seventeen. But that was not on her mind now. Sad as this accident was, all she could think about was what it meant to her relationship with Fletcher. There was so much she wanted to say, had needed to say all week.
In all the talk and all the passion and happiness they shared, they learned a lot about each other, but they skirted round the truth. They had never discussed their future because the horrible truth was that there was no possible future for them. Fletcher’s biannual visits to Melbourne were hardly the grounds for an ongoing relationship.
Fletcher put down his cup of coffee and stood up. He looked at her so sadly Ally felt tears spring to her eyes.
‘Ally, I’m sorry about this...’
‘Don’t be, Fletcher. You have to go.’
‘No, I mean I’m sony about us, about coming back and making things worse. If I’d left on Monday...’ He reached down and scooped her into his arms. ‘I should have been stronger. Should have been able to resist your spell. You’re so damn beautiful, Ally.’
How perfectly her body nestled into his. How much she wanted him to go on telling her she was beautiful.
‘But what you’re trying to say is...we come from two different, totally incompatible worlds,’ she said, her voice shaking with the effort to sound calm.
‘Too right,’ he sighed. ‘You do understand, sweetheart, don’t you?’
She nodded her head against his chest. Her throat was burning with hot tears. Fletcher’s long fingers played with her hair.
‘They warn us so much these days about the need for physical protection in a relationship, but that’s easy to look after. But protecting our emotions, that’s a different story.’
‘Perhaps there’s a solution,’ she couldn’t help adding.
‘No, I’ve thought and thought about it. There’s no way ahead for us, Ally. You have your career and I have my cattle.’
‘City girls have been happy in the country before today,’ she offered timidly. ‘Perhaps I should come and live with you on Wallaroo Downs.’
He broke away from her then, staring at her, his sky blue eyes puzzled, clearly shocked by her words. He shook his head slowly.
‘That’s a pretty fairy tale, and if it could come true I’d be the happiest man alive, but it wouldn’t—it couldn’t end in happily ever after.’
Ally felt a painful lump form in her throat, preventing a reply.
‘You see,’ he continued, the tone in his voice a daunting mixture of tenderness and regret, ‘there are more differences between us than my paddocks and your tar and cement. You’d hate the life I lead, Ally. You live in a world you’ve worked so hard to reach—and it’s so elegant and artistic.’
‘It’s not glamorous all the time,’ Ally managed to protest.
‘Sewing machine oil is the closest you’d come to grease and dirt,’ he said with a lopsided smile that wrenched at her heart. ‘I’m just sorry I’ve messed you up. I’ve never done anything so damned stupid in my life before.’
Ally’s chin came up defiantly. ‘I don’t think it was at all stupid. I’ve never had anything so wonderful happen to me—ever.’
Fletcher groaned and pulled her to him. ‘Listen, passionfruit,’ he whispered, ‘I have to pack and then I’m going to Sydney. And after that I’ll almost certainly have to get back to Wallaroo. There’s a muster coming up and I have to be back for that. Then, with a bit of luck, there’ll be a wet season. I can’t see us getting together again in a long while. You’re a beautiful, clever woman and this is where you belong. You have to get on with your brilliant career. There’s no other way of looking at this.’
She knew that as a woman of the nineties she should be able to handle this. People had relationships and then they moved on. It was as simple as that. It happened all around her all the time.
But not to her.
Ally glanced at the clock on the wall behind Fletcher. If he were to make it to his flight, he would have to get moving.
‘I’ll check out the laundry basket. See if you’ve left anything there,’ she said grimly with a small, dismissive shrug of her shoulders.
Fletcher packed in silence while Ally tidied the kitchen. They had never been so quick and efficient together. She insisted on driving him to the airport.
As her small sedan zipped along the freeway, she tried to forget about her own sadness and think of the poor little boy left without parents.
‘This little boy, Connor. Do you know him very well?’ she asked.
‘No. I have to admit, I haven’t seen all that much of him,’ admitted Fletcher. ‘I went to his christening when he was just a tiny tadpole—hadn’t even reached the ankle-biter stage. He must be three or four now. Last time I saw him he’d just started toddling around. As far as I remember, he looks like Jock.’ His voice broke a little. ‘Brown hair and eyes—going to be tall.’
Once they reached the busy, bustling airport, and Fletcher had queued then checked in, there was little time for conversation. And there was certainly no privacy for the kinds of things Ally would have liked to discuss. All too soon the flight to Sydney was boarding and for the last time she felt Fletcher’s strong arms around her, and his warm, delicious lips on hers.
‘Be beautiful, Ally,’ he whispered, his eyes glistening with a betraying dampness. Then he swung away quickly and strode through the doors of the departure lounge, leaving her without looking back.
She was prepared for his silence; she hadn’t expected him to ring her from Sydney. And she was prepared for the sense of desolation that swamped her. But what she hadn’t expected was the lassitude with which she returned to her work. She’d hoped that once back in the swing of things, the old enthusiasm for dealing with designs, textiles and market trends and the fascinating array of individuals associated with that world would rescue her from her misery.
It was with a growing sense of alarm that she faced each day at the office. She took her designs home to work on at night, hoping the soothing atmosphere of her own apartment would help inspiration to flow. With the spring and summer collection behind her, Ally had to plan for next year’s winter season and a juicy contract with the wool board was on offer. Normally she would have been thrilled. But she couldn’t concentrate and what was worse, much, much worse, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Her mind and her emotions were totally absorbed with Fletcher. Where was he now? Had he gone back to North Queensland? Had he taken little
