There are plenty of them out there.” She pointed to a portrait next to the fireplace. “Over there, Pat, that’s my great, great grandmother, Indira Sinclair. Can’t you see the likeness?”
Before Pat could reply Michelle stood up and put her napkin on the table. “We have a long night ahead of us in case any of you have forgotten. My son is somewhere out there maybe injured or worse and we haven’t mentioned him all day. I’m going to lie down for a couple of hours.”
Rachael went over to her mother and put her arms around her. “Come on Mum, we haven’t avoided talking about Ewen, it’s just that there is nothing to say. All we can do is wait. I’m sure we’ll get a phone call as soon as the army knows anything positive. You go and have a lie down. I’ll take Pat down to the pool. I’m sure she hasn’t been there and we’ll have a swim before dark. Dinner is any time we want it. Alice has made more salad and put some steaks and chicken pieces to marinate, so you can sleep for as long as you like. Angus will do the barbecue and we’ll eat outside, whenever. I’ll light the mozzie coils in plenty of time and Alice said she bought some of those big flame torches that have a repellent, citrus I think, so we’ll be quite comfortable outside. You go and lie down.”
Michelle gave Rachael a kiss on the cheek and left the room. After she’d closed the door Angus said, “You go, Rach. Roddy and I will stick this stuff in the dish washer and the fridge. Take the Mercedes.”
“C’mon, Pat, off for a swim. Is that okay?”
“I haven’t got any bathers.”
“Neither have I. You won’t need them. There’ll just be you and me so we can swim in the buff.” Before Pat could reply, Rachael was in the hall shouting, “I’ll get the towels. See you at the car.”
Chapter 6.
The meeting at the Pool.
The ‘Pool’ as Rachael had called it, was really a billabong kept full by a spring of water that bubbled out of the ground and flowed into a big dam, probably one hundred metres in diameter and surrounded by old shady eucalypts. By the side of the track, about ten metres from the water edge there was a bough shed used for a changing room. Behind that a small toilet and at water’s edge a gazebo-like bough shed with table and benches all made out of bush timber, and close by, a stone barbecue.
Rachael stopped the car and turned to Pat. “Welcome to the site of the annual Bangalore Olympics, a place where all the kids and at the weekends parents and anyone else who happened to be at Bangalore, would meet and play. Almost every day in the summer we used to ride our horses down here. Ewen and I, and I am sure all the other kids, learned to swim here, and as we got older some of us fell into and out of love down here. Bathers were never compulsory when we were kids; they became compulsory as we got older unless parents and Alice weren’t around. C’mon, let’s have a swim and cool off; then we can sit in the shade. There are couple of aluminium lounges, or there should be, in the changing shed.”
They got out of the car and walked to the gazebo where Rachael quickly took off all her clothes except a pair of skimpy briefs, almost a G-string. Without looking at Pat she ran the five metres or so to the water’s edge, waded in, let out a little squeal as the cold water splashed over her body and then dived. She surfaced ten metres out and obviously treading water shouted, “C’mon, Pat, it’s wonderful.”
Pat hadn’t swum in the nude since she was a child, maybe ten or eleven. With friends she’d gone to the Collie River on a hot summer’s day, boys and girls, and as a dare they had all taken their clothes off and gone swimming in one of the deep pools. They had been seen by a local busybody, who had told their parents. Her dad had smiled and said that they meant no harm, but added bathers would be a good idea in future. Her mother had gone ballistic and grounded her for two weeks of the summer holidays.
Pat took off her clothes down to her pants and bra, then she hesitated. She watched the bra-less Rachael swimming strongly in the middle of the pool. So she reached behind her back and undid the clip on her bra and shrugged it off. The water was cold, so she dived and it took her breath away. Then it became a welcome luxury as her body cooled and she swam after Rachael.
They stayed in the water for ten or fifteen minutes, swimming and talking. As they were standing at the water’s edge drying themselves, Pat saw someone sitting on a horse in the shadow of one of the big trees on the far side of the pool. She continued drying herself and said, “Rachael, we’re being watched. There’s someone on a horse over on the other side.”
Rachael stopped and turned to look at the shadowy figure. She made no attempt to cover herself as Pat turned her back on whoever it was and grabbed her tee-shirt and put it on. Rachael stood there looking without a trace of embarrassment as she faced the shadowy figure and then she shouted, “Is that you, Ali?” The figure waved, nudged the horse in the ribs and man and horse started walking round the pool towards them.
Still Rachael didn’t get dressed; she just watched the man and horse as they slowly approached. Pat watched Rachael and couldn’t help but admire her body as she stood in the rays of the evening sun; it wasn’t the body of an athlete like hers, but nonetheless it was trim and well proportioned. It showed no sign of marks from wearing bathers or any sort of covering; the tan was even and almost coffee coloured. Now she was smiling as the man and horse got closer and she reached for her tee-shirt and put it on. “It’s Ali; might have known he would turn up.”
“Who’s Ali?”
“Barnaby Kamran, known to all as Ali. As kids we reckoned he was Ali Barber and the name stuck. Even Alice calls him Ali. He’s Alice’s son.”
He stopped in front of them and looked down from his horse. “Hello, Princess. Didn’t expect to see you here. Alice told me you were coming.”
“Hello, Ali. It’s good to see you again.” Rachael stood quite still, looking at him.
He was wearing a faded blue shirt and jeans and a big felt hat; he didn’t get off the horse and the horse stood still. “Heard any more about Ew?”
“Nothing, we expect to hear good news tonight sometime.”
“Poor bugger. He’ll be all right though. Has to be, doesn’t he? The Three Musketeers must go on.” His face was sombre and he looked at Rachael from under the wide brim of his hat. Pat couldn’t see his eyes.
Suddenly tears welled up in Rachael’s eyes and she said softly, “Get off that bloody nag, Ali.”
He slipped his feet out of the stirrups, lifted his right leg over the horse’s neck and slid to the ground not taking his eyes off Rachael and letting the reins fall to the ground. They stood with their arms around each other Rachael resting her head on his chest. “Look at me. I haven’t cried since…”
“That’s when we became the Three Musketeers, ‘all for one and one for all’, remember?”
“Of course I do, that’s what made me cry…because there are only two of us here. Oh Ali, I’m sorry.” She turned to Pat and disentangled herself from his arms. “Ali, this is Pat; she’s engaged to Ewen. Pat, this is Ali, my friend.” She gave a little laugh. “And my fellow Musketeer.”
Ali held out his hand to her and it was hard and calloused but his touch was gentle. He’d taken his hat off and Pat could see his face. He was darker than Rachael but not much. She could see Alice in his eyes except that years squinting into the sun had given him wrinkles, but again, like Alice’s, the eyes
