'Oh, yes! I've never met him but I do know of him.'
In fact, Johnny Ellis was really big on the country and western scene, having made a huge hit in America with his songs. He was also something of a pin-up boy—a gorgeous hunk, while still exuding a very earthy hometown charm.
'Long time ago he and Mr. Ric were at Gundamurra together,' Evelyn ran on. 'Two of Mr. Patrick's boys. Now they are both famous. Mr. Johnny comes back here a lot. He says we are his inspiration.'
Hence the plane, Lara thought. And Johnny Ellis must also have been convicted of something criminal when he was a teenager, and given the same choice as Ric—two of Mr. Patrick's boys. Lara wondered how many of them there had been over the years, how many had made good after being here. I'll make good, too, she promised herself.
The one other room which fascinated her was the sewing room. 'Mrs.
Maguire made everything here,' Evelyn explained. 'The curtains and cushion covers and patchwork quilts. Tablecloths and serviettes, too. Dresses for the girls. She loved making up patterns.'
There were bolts of fabric stacked against the wall, boxes galore containing samples of materials. The whole room was set up very professionally with a central table for cutting out, good lighting, shelves of cotton reels in every shade of colour, a range of scissors.
'Do any of her daughters sew?' Lara asked.
'Not much. Only to fix things. The oldest one, Miss Jessie, has just become a doctor. She wants to work for The Royal Doctor Flying Service. Miss Emily is a helicopter pilot and does mustering up north. Always loved flying. The youngest one, Miss Megan, is studying at an agricultural college. I think she aims to take over from Mister Patrick and run Gundamurra.'
A woman…running this vast sheep station? Why not?
Lara berated herself for her own limited thinking. Clearly Patrick Maguire's daughters were all determined achievers. She herself had never nurtured any ambition. Modelling had more or less happened to her. At seventeen she'd been spotted at a pop concert, approached by an agent for a model company and very quickly promoted into the international scene, much to the delight of her mother who had pushed the career with so much pride and enthusiasm, Lara hadn't considered anything else.
By the time she'd met Gary she had tired of the scene, the constant travelling, the long exhausting photographic sessions, the sense of always being on show, the clothes that were more bizarre display pieces than actually wearable in real life. Everything was a performance and she'd yearned to feel more grounded.
Getting married and having a family had felt the right step to take. Maybe working in a kind of dream factory had seriously impaired her judgment. Certainly the dream husband had set about crushing her illusions very quickly and becoming a part of his family had shown her that having babies was not the answer to anything.
She needed to do something productive with her own life, not just reflect or enhance what others did or wanted for themselves. All she'd been was a show pony. There was no sense of self-worth in that. Ric had given her the time and space to sort herself out while she was here, and this purpose was very much on her mind when Evelyn finally ushered her into Patrick's office.
He gave her a benevolent smile and invited her to sit down—this man who'd fathered three daughters now carving out their own paths in life— who'd been the father figure to boys who'd gone off the rails, setting them on their feet to go forward with confidence in their abilities to make something positive of their future. She saw kindness in his eyes, but knew there was a lot more than kindness in this man's make-up. He had to have a very shrewd knowledge of human nature and how it could be best put to work.
'You look better this morning,' he started.
Less beaten, she thought, determined on rising from the wretched ashes of her marriage to Gary Chappel. 'I won't let Ric down,' she said firmly.
Patrick frowned, gesturing a dismissal of her reply. 'I understand you're grateful to Ric, but Lara…don't hang what you do here on him. Ric wouldn't want you to measure this time by what he or anyone else might expect of you. It's your time. Make it belong to you, doing what you want because you want it.'
The slow, serious words struck a realisation that she'd spent far too many years pleasing others, firstly in a desire for their approval, then because if she didn't please, it meant getting hurt.
Clearly, Patrick Maguire was very different to her own father who'd had the habit of laying down the law with dictatorial impatience for any argument whatsoever. He'd never listened to her. She suspected he'd approved her modelling career and marriage because in his view, women were meant to look beautiful and marry well. Full stop. They weren't supposed to think or quarrel with the men who were in charge of them.
Even though he was paralysed by a stroke and cared for in a nursing home, her mother was still subservient to him. Her reply to everything Lara had told her was, 'Your father wouldn't have wanted…'
Always your father…your father…your father….
Lara's cry, 'What about me?' had never been heeded.
Eyeing Patrick curiously, she asked, 'Is this what you tell the boys who've come here? To shed the influences that have led them into trouble?'
'That's quite a leap,' he said appreciatively, settling back in the big leather chair behind his working desk—a man who was comfortable with himself, not needing to impress, yet all the more impressive because of it. His eyes twinkled. 'What did Ric tell you about his time here?'
'Not much. He explained the program you ran as an alternative to spending time in a detention centre. And when he spoke of you it was with enormous respect and trust.'
He nodded, a musing little smile softening his expression. 'Some boys responded to the challenge. Others just put in their time. Ric, Johnny and Mitch were like the three musketeers, determined to fight their way out of where they were.'
'Mitch, too?' Lara looked her surprise and confusion. 'I didn't think anyone with a criminal record could go into law.'
'Mitch was a special case. He didn't defend himself at the time. There were extenuating circumstances that were eventually put before the court.'
'Through your connections?'
'Yes and no.' He shrugged. 'Because of my program here I was listened to, but the outcome of the hearing depended on what Mitch put forward himself.'
Not a backroom power play. Lara was relieved to hear it. She didn't want to think of Patrick Maguire doing the kind of deals she knew Victor and Gary did—bribing their way to the outcome they wanted. She needed to know Mitch Tyler was straight, too, not dependent on others' influence.
'Don't worry about Mitch, Lara.' Patrick's smile had a touch of whimsy in its tilt. 'Justice is a burning issue to him. Always was. One way or another, he'll checkmate Gary Chappel.'
Lara wondered if her thoughts were transparent. Not that it mattered.
She had her answer. 'Has there been…any news…this morning?' He shook his head. 'Maybe tonight.'
Lara hoped Kathryn was safe.
Patrick shifted, leaning forward, resting his arms on the desk, regarding her with lively curiosity. 'I've always asked each boy who chose to come to Gundamurra…what would he like to have that would add personal pleasure to his time here?' He paused a moment, then softly asked, 'Is there something you would like, Lara?'
She hadn't thought about her own personal pleasure for a very long time. Even last night with Ric, wanting him…it had all been focused on what he could give her, not what she could give herself. Apart from undoing his shirt buttons, she had been more passive than active…letting it happen to her. That seemed to be the story of her life.
'What did Ric choose?' she asked. 'A camera.'
'Johnny?' 'A guitar.'
'And Mitch?' 'A chess set.'
They had known what they wanted. Why didn't she? Was she just a blob to be directed by others, having no direction of her own?
'You don't have to answer straightaway, Lara,' Patrick said kindly. 'Think about it. Let me know when…'
'There is something I'd like to try,' she burst out, liking the idea as it had raced into her mind. 'Evelyn showed me the sewing room. She said no one uses what's there anymore…all the different fabrics and cottons. Maybe I could design and make things…if you wouldn't mind.' She flushed as she realised she might be treading on private ground.
'My wife would have been pleased to share her hobby with another woman,' he said with warm encouragement. 'Please feel free to use whatever's in the sewing room.'
'Thank you.'
'You're welcome.' He pushed up from his chair, rising to his full formidable height. 'Now let me walk you around the station…meet the other women…get your bearings.'
Yes, Lara thought, she needed to get her bearings very straight in her mind, not for her new environment so much as for her own life. No one ever really got a clean new slate, but this, she decided, was as good a chance as she was ever likely to have. It was up to her to make the most of it.