“Vous êtes le français?” After asking the question, the young woman looked confused.

“That’s a surprise; I wonder what else is in there.”

The man, tall and thin, raised a hand and gently tapped the young woman’s forehead. He said something more in French and she responded naturally. He attempted some German; she was able to make something out from what he said but her reply was not as fluent as with the French.

“So you speak good French and have some knowledge of German.”

She ran a hand over her forehead, pushing back the soft curly fringe of copper hair.

“If only,” she murmured, “if only it told me who I am. It’s a clue of sorts, I suppose.”

He shrugged.

“And in answer to your question, I am not French, I am Corsican.”

“I know where Corsica is but I don’t know my own name.”

“You will one day but you must not rush yourself. Time will heal.”

Time? Do I have time? Isn’t there someone concerned for me?

She’d been in hospital for eight weeks and in spite of the publicity, no one had come forward. She knew nothing of her past and the future terrified her. Her bruises—received in a hit and run accident—had healed now, but her mind was blank. She didn’t even know her own name.

The nurses had named her Cash because she’d been wearing a grey cashmere jogging suit. The clothes had put her into a well-off category but no one, banker, solicitor—anyone who might have had dealings with someone of her probable background, had come forward to claim her. She felt unwanted and unloved.

Over the weeks that followed and when she had long conversations comfortably in French with her doctor, she realized as did everyone else, that she was bi-lingual. She had to have worked or lived somewhere in France to be that fluent. Perhaps, she suggested, if they extended her story to the Continent, someone would recall her. Anytime now she would have to leave the hospital. Her physical injuries were better, she could no longer justify taking up a bed. There had been mention of a move to a Psychiatric Unit for more care, but she had balked at the idea—but with no money and no name, where could she go?

Anxiety put pressure on her to try to remember something—anything. The pressure brought headaches and depression; it was a vicious circle from which there seemed no escape.

Whenever Doctor Arnaud came in to see her, he always gave the gentlest of smiles. She was in turn always pleased to see him. Foolish as it seemed, there appeared to be a link between them. Of course it was only language they had in common but it was the best thing she had. This time his smile was broader. “I have news.”

“You do?”

He came and sat on the bed. Dark and attractive, he always was able to cause a little pleasant flutter of feeling inside her. She enjoyed it, for even if her mind had gone, her ability to feel pleasure had not. However, apprehension now tempered the flutter.

“Someone has come to claim me?”

“You make yourself sound like baggage—you are far from that. But yes, someone believes they know who you are. I want you to be aware that even if they know you, you may not know them.”

“They won’t be...” she shrugged, uncomfortable with the thought. “...crazy, you know, people who claim things that aren’t true?”

“We demanded absolute proof.”

“And they...they have it?”

“It would seem so.”

While the doctor went to fetch the man, she fussed illogically with her hair, as if she had to make a good impression. As if she was up for adoption.

Don’t be a silly girl, she cautioned herself.

The door opened; in walked a man of medium height—but the thing about him, the thing that oddly shocked her was that he was so handsome. Each feature was perfect. A face that having once been seen would never be forgotten—but she had no recollection whatsoever of this man. No stirring of memory, no frisson of delight. The Doctor had caused a flutter; this other man awoke a feeling entirely different.

“Maddy!” he exclaimed, striding towards the bed. “It is you.” He was English. He took hold of her hand. His palm was soft and fleshy, slightly moist; she did not like the feel of it against her own. Abruptly she moved her hand from his. He smiled. She remembered the smile of a crocodile. Instinct or intuition or both made her dislike him. Something about him made her insides crawl.

“Oh Maddy,” he said, “you really don’t remember, do you?”

“Of course not, surely the doctor said.”

“But I thought it merely one of your games.”

Games! I’m a person who plays games with people?

“It would be diabolical to do such a thing,” she said and meant it.

“It would but you...well you, my darling, adore the diabolical—just a little.” He twinkled at her. “You don’t remember us?” he asked in a rather little boy voice she found irritating.

‘Us’, the word sprang back at her.

Us! Is he my husband?

She looked at her hands—they were ring-less. The police said she had nothing on her but the grey cashmere track suit and a pair of soft flat shoes, almost as if she were going to bed and not out for a midnight jog.

“You can’t have forgotten Mandorah?”

“I’ve forgotten everything!” Her voice was strong and hard. Inside she wanted to cry. The momentous feelings that had cascaded through her when the doctor said someone knew her had quickly dissipated, leaving her miserable and depressed. She hated the person this man implied she was, inexplicably she also hated him!

“I’m sorry,” he said. Maddy thought he wasn’t sorry at all. “Of course you’ve been through so much but it’s difficult to relate to you like this. Forgive me?”

She nodded rather more graciously than she felt.

“I’ve come to take you home”

“Home?”

“To Mandorah.”

“I’m sorry I don’t...” She bit her lip, trying to jump the high blank wall her mind had become.

“Mandorah, Queensland.”

There was no memory but she recognised the name of the State.

“Australia?”

It was unbelievable. He was telling her she belonged in Australia. It didn’t seem feasible, the French thing, her essential European-ness. Her head started to spin. This man was her husband; he was going to take her thousands of miles to the other side of the world. She instinctively loathed him. Australia meant nothing to her. Her pulse began to race. She could feel the waves starting to come, felt she was floating, going away from it all. In the distance she heard the man calling for help as she slipped into a blissful state of nothingness.

Dr Arnaud wasn’t impressed.

“It’s shock—you can’t expect to come here and dictate.”

“I wasn’t dictating,” Colin Franklyn protested. “I just thought mention of Mandorah would trigger something. After all at one time it was all she wanted.”

“I asked you to be gentle—not to rush things. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“You can’t do that. I’ve come to take her back.”

“Not until I say you can.”

With that the doctor turned on his heels and marched away.

Franklyn dug into his pocket and brought out a mobile phone. He punched in the numbers, but the hospital gave poor reception. He cursed. Swung around and went the opposite way from the doctor. Once in the car park, he tried again. The reception was better.

“Hi,” he said. “It is Maddy, but she really doesn’t seem to remember anything...sure...yes...she passed out at the thought of coming to Oz. Acting? Absolutely not. The Doctor roasted me over telling her too soon.”

He listened to the voice at the other end of the line. “Fine,” he replied. “I’ll do that.”

* * * *

Maddy slipped into a light-weight jacket. The clothes had arrived that morning. They were expensive casuals. The undergarments were soft and silky and they too appeared to be very expensive. Everything was perfect yet just slightly too big, apart from the shoes, which were a perfect fit. She would go to a hotel in the country for two days and then they would fly out.

A nurse came and fussed kindly, telling her how pretty she looked. How lavender was her shade. Apparently, according to Colin Franklyn, lavender was her favourite colour. Perhaps that was in the past because she now thought it a somewhat insipid colour. Red, yellow, these were the colours that came into her mind. She shrugged. Perhaps her taste had changed. Maybe it was as the doctor said, a new beginning for her. She could start all over again.

Miserably she sank back onto the bed. She didn’t want to start again—she wanted to know, had to know everything. Colin Franklyn had been gentler on his next visit. He was much less cynical and teasing. It didn’t matter how he was with her, she felt repulsed by him. Something about him made her flesh crawl. When she’d tried to imagine a physical contact between them, she had felt only nausea.

It was hard to ask the question, dreading the answer as she did, but she willed herself, dared herself to ask. “How long have we been married?”

He laughed. “What?” he said, though he had obviously heard her; otherwise, he wouldn’t have laughed. “Who said we’re married?”

Of course, no one had. It was she who had put that spin on the thing. He had come and recognized her, suggested an intimacy and was going to take her back to Mandorah. “I just thought…”

“Oh Maddy, you would never have married me! Not when there were other, bigger sharks in the ocean.”

He came close to her, put out his hand and stroked her face. She recoiled from his touch. It didn’t make him laugh, it made him angry. “One day you’ll regret that. When you come and want—”

The doctor came in, causing Franklyn to stop himself from finishing his statement. He rounded on the medic, said tersely, “No one’s bothered to tell her the situation. What kind of outfit are you running here?”

Maddy was too relieved to be angry with him or anyone. She wasn’t married to Colin Franklyn. He had no claim on her. It was going to be all right.

* * * *

Another week had gone by and she was ready to leave. The doctor was unsure but she knew she had to face the future. She had to confront her past. Maybe then she would remember who she was and why Mandorah had obsessed her

After saying goodbye to Doctor Arnaud, Franklyn led her out of the hospital. A chauffeur driven car was waiting. He said they would be going to a hotel in Sussex before leaving for Australia. She climbed into the backseat. Franklyn followed and purposely let his thigh crush up to hers. She moved swiftly. He cupped her knee possessively.

“Take your hand off me!” But he tightened his grip. “If you don’t then I’m going to call Nevis.”

He laughed but he moved his hand and settled himself away from her. “Maybe I will tell Nevis a lot more.”

“I doubt it.” She was amazed by her bravado; however, it paid dividends, for Franklyn merely sulked for the rest of the journey, not bothering to protest when she said she would have dinner alone in her room.

Nevis was obviously the key to controlling Franklyn’s insolence—but Nevis was in reality more frightening to her. Nevis was the man to whom she was married, and he was an individual, Franklyn advised, who was not to be messed with. Nevis was her husband and master of Mandorah.

Maddy pondered on her husband.

Why didn’t he come himself? Why send the obnoxious Franklyn?

Try as she might Maddy could not understand his neglect. He hadn’t spoken to her on the phone either, though she knew Franklyn was in touch with him. There had been all kinds of things to arrange. She had had nothing on her, had needed a passport. Nevis had been working behind the scenes, organizing all of this.

She was reluctant to ask anything of Franklyn. The less contact with him she had the more she liked it. Doctor Arnaud had said he had no idea why Nevis Ballantyne hadn’t come to collect his wife, but had sent his ‘office boy’. It was peculiar and Maddy suspected it didn’t bode well for their relationship.

“You don’t have to go,” the doctor had told her. “You can wait and see if you recover your memory…”

“I have to go—maybe by confronting my past I’ll trigger some memory. I think being at home must aid my cure more than being in a hospital.”

She didn’t admit that being in a psychiatric hospital terrified her, or that she felt that the devil she supposedly knew had to be better than that!

* * * *

It was a long journey but they travelled in the relative comfort of first class. At Singapore there was an overnight stay in a luxurious hotel. Whoever had booked the flight had shown immense consideration for her fragile state.

She wafted through it all, accepting the luxury as if used to it. As she couldn’t recall any aspect of her past, this may have been the reason. However, it could be that this was how she’d always lived. It intrigued her—she was moneyed, yet how had she ended up in a back street in London, stretched out against the kerb with no identity on her, not even a door key?

These thoughts made her temples ache, as they always did. She had to have patience. All would reveal itself. When she arrived home this too could jerk her memory.

At Cairns airport there was little hold-up at Customs. The airport was small and full of light but outside a storm was pouring sheets of rain towards them. As they stepped from the shelter of the veranda the rain slapped against her, amazing her with its ferocity.

“Maddy, get in quickly,” Franklyn ordered, opening the door of a four-wheel-drive. A black man was in the driver’s seat, his face partly shaded by the brim of his huge hat.

“G’day, Ma’am,” he said in a slow drawl.

The rain had soaked her and although it was warm, she shivered before acknowledging the man’s greeting.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Get on with it, Joseph!” Franklyn snapped, as the huge man turned around to look at her.

“Guess you forgot the rain too,” Joseph said, oblivious to Franklyn’s waspishness.

“I’m afraid so,” Maddy replied with a smile.

“Mind you don’t catch cold.”

He swung out of the vehicle to push their luggage, which Franklyn had left at the outside of the vehicle, into the back.

Maddy couldn’t stop the words, “You could have done that!”

“It’s his job,” he said churlishly. “You’ve changed,” he added, “and it seems to me the sooner you get back your senses the happier we’ll all be.”

The implication she was insane wasn’t lost on Maddy but she let it go. She was wet, feeling cold and tired.

Joseph returned with a huge plaid rug. “Wrap this around you, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Joseph.”

The torrential rain made their journey slow and barely possible for Maddy to see anything outside the window. She was aware of alien trees and scalped fields. There was a perilous road eventually that wound around steep cliffs beyond which the sea looked grey and solemn. Nothing in the landscape seemed familiar—had London anyway awakened echoes in her mind? Infuriatingly she couldn’t even remember that! She’d taken everything for granted. However, the stark winter beauty of Sussex hadn’t been alien like this; there’d been something about it she’d taken for granted and accepted as the norm.

They turned inland, away from the lush dark-green forest-infested hills. There was a plantation of sorts, but like earlier, the fields were bare of crops.

“Sugar,” Colin answered her moodily when she asked. “That’s how, or partly how, he makes his money. Owns the land, owns the mill, owns just about everybody, even you and me.”

Maddy didn’t like the sound of them being a pair but she supposed in a way it could be true.

“Did...” and she hated to ask the question of Franklyn. “Did I have any money?”

“You?” He laughed. “You had this cute little shop in Cairns.”

A cute little shop? What kind of things did I sell? I’m English; speak French—how did I end up with a cute little shop in Cairns?

She sighed and then moved forward in her seat. Through the swirl of rain she could make out the shape of a huge white house.

“Mandorah,” Franklyn said. “Maddy, you’re home, God help you.”

* * * *

Having been met by the housekeeper, Suzy, who was only a couple of years older than herself, Maddy was shown to a large airy bedroom. To her question as to where Nevis was, Suzy merely shrugged her shoulders.

“He left early, didn’t say where he was going or when he’d be back.”

The smooth walls of the bedroom and the adjoining bathroom were painted in a soft lavender wash. There were lavender silk sheets on the bed and a green and lavender sprigged coverlet. I certainly like lavender .The windows, long and thin, let out onto a veranda running the length of the house. There were protective shutters to keep out, she presumed, nasty biting insects. There were curtains of white voile echoing the ultra-feminine theme of the room. On the dressing table were antique silver hair brushes and a silver casket, which on opening it, revealed a varied collection of jewellery. There were jade and pearl necklaces, a diamond brooch, gold bangles, and a compartment for ear-rings for pierced ears. She examined her own ears and saw the tiny marks where the piercing, now closed because there’d been no sleepers in place for more than two months, had been made. One brooch was a serpent with two emeralds for eyes, its body was twisted sinuously it was only on close inspection that Maddy could see it formed a letter ‘M’. There hadn’t been any jewellery found on her, not even a wedding ring. Her skin was pale so there wasn’t even a tell-tale ring of paler skin that might have proven she’d been robbed of her wedding ring by the person who’d knocked her down and then driven off. If a passer-by hadn’t found her she might have died. It had been October, but a colder than usual autumn night.

She moved back across the room, the wooden floor cool against her feet. It was barely seven o’clock, yet she felt weary. She climbed into bed. The room was suddenly illuminated by a huge jagged flash of lightning—thunder followed close on its heels. The rain hammered ceaselessly against the walls of the house. She left the bed and closed the windows.

* * * *

There was the sound of alien birds noisily calling, the sweeter sound of the Australian magpie, and the chatter of lorikeets. Sunlight poured into the room, beating against her eyelids. She stirred languorously. The clock revealed it was six-thirty. She had meant only to doze for an hour but had slept the night through. There were slatted shutters to keep out the brilliant light but she hadn’t closed them. The sun, warm and pleasant, seemed yet another alien thing. There had been no sun all the time she had been in the hospital, only sullen clouds and drizzle-filled days. Instinctively she felt an appreciation of the bright light. It was soothing; she knew she enjoyed it. Leaving the bed, she pulled on a filmy robe and went out onto the veranda. In the distance were the dark lush hills of the rainforest. Gum trees in a row were filled with brightly coloured parrots, and she smiled. It was the most beautiful sight she could ever remember seeing—her first pleasant view. Doctor Arnaud had been right. She was a clean slate and she could write on that slate whatever she liked!
Much to her surprise she found on going downstairs the house was a hive of activity.
Suzy explained that in the tropics they generally woke early and went to bed early.

“Did I do that?” Maddy asked.

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

There was a cold politeness that Maddy found hurtful. There was no warmth from any of the people she encountered, nor did anyone say where her husband was.

“The storm was bad, maybe he stayed over,” Suzy ventured when she sensed Maddy’s concern.

“But surely he would telephone?”

“Not necessarily.”

“He knew I was arriving.”

Suzy started to say something and then appeared to think better of it.

“It might have slipped his mind,” she said at last, and bustled off.

Slipped his mind?

But Maddy too turned away from any confrontation. What kind of man was he? He sent someone else to find out if it was his wife in hospital. He had sent a driver to collect them from the airport, and now he hadn’t come home to greet her. Was it normal in their relationship? Were they in some way estranged?

Maddy tried to sort out the jumble in her mind. Trying to analyse Colin Franklyn’s words proved difficult. She had been so busy worrying about her instinctive loathing of him that she’d paid little attention. There had been innuendo there, and a non-too subtle hint that she liked him—that there had been a relationship. She shook her head on that one. There wouldn’t have been. He was having her on, taking advantage of her memory loss. She could never have been involved with a man like him. It was the one thing that she truly knew!

After exploring the interior of the house, Maddy went outside. At the rear there was a huge decking area leading out to a swimming pool. There were trees and strategically-placed umbrellas for shade; a rose and hibiscus flower bed and a cluster of Jacaranda tress in vivid blue bloom—a reminder of the climate and that on this side of the world it was early summer.

Eventually she came to a stable block. Joseph was there, tenderly brushing down a chestnut mare. The smell somehow seemed familiar, sweet and faintly acrid too. Without any inbred fear she went to the mare and stroked her nose.

“She’s beautiful.”

Joseph looked at her slack-mouthed and then quickly turned away.

“Kelly,” he said.

There were three other horses—one a cream stallion, haughty and distant.

“Silver,” Joseph said, pointing to a dapple grey. “This is Favour.”

At Maddy’s puzzled look Joseph went on, “Fellow over the river needed to sell him, asked the boss, ‘Do me a favour.’ He was round everyday whinging on; in the end the boss said ‘Yes’. Called him Favour, couldn’t call him nothing else I suppose.”

“I suppose so. Joseph, could I ride one, would you take me?”

“You don’t ride, Ma’am,” Joseph said sternly.

“I think I do!”

“Boss won’t like it, Ma’am.”

“If you don’t take me I’ll go alone; you couldn’t stop me, could you, Joseph?”

“No, Ma’am, couldn’t stop you doing anything you wanted to do.”

“Well then?”

Incredibly, just as she had realized she was a French speaker, she knew she could ride. That she was used to horses, even managing to saddle up her steed. She could tell that Joseph was surprised and confused, that something was the matter, that she’d changed.

Maddy took her time saddling Kelly, murmuring soothingly to the horse as she did so, wanting to let the animal know that she wasn’t to be feared.

Somehow I’ve instinct working even if I can’t remember anything. It’s instinct that tells me what I can do, and it’s instinct I’m going to follow.

They rode as far as the Creek. Joseph had said that’s where they should go, and since she had no idea how far it was she agreed. The Creek was what she would call a stream. It took them half an hour to get there but during their ride, black clouds had come scudding across the sky.

“Rain’s coming,” Joseph said.

“Rain again. I thought you had good weather in Australia.”

“Now’s coming up for the Wet, Ma’am.” It meant nothing to Maddy; it was not something that instinctively she knew. Beyond the Creek, there was a cluster of gum trees and then thick trees spread out for as far as she could see.

Joseph followed her gaze and explained.

“Rainforest, the boss wants it preserved. In the old days all this was rainforest. Old man Ballantyne he cleared the lot, but the boss, he has a real respect for the land.”

“That’s good to hear.”

This time Joseph couldn’t resist. “That wasn’t always your opinion, Ma’am.”

“It wasn’t. What did I think about it?”

“Not my place to say, better you ask the boss about that.”

Maddy sighed. “Well I suppose we’d better get back, if it’s going to pour down.”

She turned the horse. It was galling that she could do that so easily—ride a horse—but she couldn’t remember anything about the rainforest, the Wet, and her husband’s ideas on conservation. She wanted to press Joseph but at the same time realized it wouldn’t be fair. Nevis Ballantyne was his employer and she sensed that Joseph’s first loyalty would always be to him.

They made the stable just as the huge raindrops began to thrash down. She unsaddled Kelly while Joseph saw to Silver and then tenderly caressed the horse. She realised it was the first time she’d felt like doling out affection. It felt good too.

The rain was thundering on the tin roof, the noise so loud she didn’t hear anyone else come in; it was only when Joseph said ‘Boss’ that her heart gave a little leap. Ever so slowly she turned around.

Instinct betrayed her. It told her she’d never seen this man before for had she done so, loss of memory or no, she would never have dared to forget him!

He was wearing a leather greatcoat. The rain dripped from it and from the brim of his Akubra hat. He removed the hat and shook it but didn’t take his gaze from Maddy. He was holding the reins of a horse which, as if copying him, shook its head to flip off the raindrops.

His eyes—more silver than grey—trapped her in a cold stare. She was the rabbit and he the stoat. There was almost an Asiatic cast to his eyes—emphasised by high cheekbones. The skin of his face was weathered and taut—his nose at sometime had been broken and there was a slight dent in the centre. He was big and his bulk blocked out the meager light.

At last he spoke: “Maddy.” He nodded his head. A lock of black hair fell over his forehead; he brushed it back with a casual hand. It was very thick hair with just enough kinks in it to give it a mind of its own.

“Nevis,” she said shyly, not needing to question who he was. There was that air about him that showed he belonged.

He’s well-named. A man of rock

Joseph mumbled something and left, squeezing himself around Nevis.

“What are you doing?” Nevis asked. He had a faint slow drawl to his accent.

“I persuaded Joseph to let me ride.”

“You?” He laughed softly “So that’s what you were doing in Europe, leaning to ride.”

“I thought it might come in handy,” Maddy retaliated. She realized she didn’t want any kind of confrontation just now and so she shrugged. “Obviously I can ride, but I don’t know how I know.”

“Me neither,” Nevis said. Then as if remembering the horse nudging against his arm, he said. “I’ll see you in the house. I have to see to Bess.”

“Would you like me to get you something—tea, coffee, some lunch?”

“I’m sure Suzy will have everything fixed up. I’ll see you in the sitting room.”

He was dismissing her. She was an errant school-girl and he would see her later! She bit back a retort, stepping around him and the horse with all the dignity she could command.

By the time she reached the house she was saturated. Quickly she mounted the stairs and went to her room where she showered and changed into soft cotton trousers and a white blouse. Catching sight of the bed, she felt a shiver of anticipation. Nevis didn’t sleep here, that she knew, but if he came to her that night, as he had every right too she supposed, how would she feel? Feeling her legs buckle she sank onto a nearby chair.

Instinct didn’t tell her whether sex was something she found easy, or whether it was something she enjoyed, physically. She swallowed, and then admitted that physically, at least, he didn’t make her flesh crawl as had Colin Franklyn. In different circumstances she would not be adverse to him touching her.

She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling the steady thud of her heart—and why should that thought make her blush like a teenager? She could feel the heat streaking across her cheeks; he was her husband. They must have shared so many intimate moments. They’d been together five years; no need for her to behave like a simpering virgin. If only she knew though, could remember, something of their time together. How it felt.

She was startled by a door somewhere nearby slamming shut. She listened. There was the sound of water. Tiptoeing across the floor, she pressed her ear to the wall. Doors opened and slammed shut; there was the sound of a drawer being yanked open. He was in the next room. A short couple of steps along the veranda and he’d be here—in my room.

The long windows were closed now but she knew from her exploration of the previous night that they didn’t lock and neither did the door to her bedroom! He had open access to her room and to her bed whenever he wanted. The very thought made her tremble, but she was uncertain as to whether she trembled in fear or in anticipation.

* * * *

Later she realized how ridiculous her fantasies were. Whatever things Nevis Ballantyne would be doing, visiting her bedroom wasn’t one of them!

She was in the sitting room when he came in, his dark hair sleekly swept back from his shower. Tall and controlled and still the iceman. Here was her husband; he’d sent someone else to bring her back. He’d not been there to greet her on her return—and on seeing her, hadn’t even bothered to ask how she was, hadn’t hugged or kissed her or even touched her!
“So…” He drew out the word. “What’s the game, Maddy?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Nevis.”

“Come on, love.” There was an insult behind each word. “You took eighty thousand dollars from the bank, cleared off without a word to anyone, then you have an accident and conveniently forgot everything? Is this your way of trying to ingratiate yourself? Save the sweat, it won’t work.”

She said, patiently and feeling disappointed in herself, “I really don’t remember anything.”

Am I really capable of such despicable behaviour?

Oddly she didn’t doubt what he said. Instinct told her he wasn’t telling lies. In a way it was better to be suffering from amnesia. She didn’t want to remember the person she was.

Nevis simply stared at her.

“I really don’t,” she repeated, seeing the glint in his silver eyes. “I have the medical report.”

“Maddy, someone with your skills could make Einstein believe something unbelievable! Your acting abilities would make an Academy Award winner seem like an amateur.”

“There’s nothing I can say. I feel strange and as if I don’t belong.”

“You never did belong, Maddy. All you ever wanted was Mandorah—you wanted to hang it around your neck with the rest of your jewellery.” His voice became even harder, more aggressive. “Maddy Ballantyne from Mandorah, but you were happier in Sydney boasting about it than actually belonging here.”

She flung a few bitter words back at him. “A pretty shallow human being, then?”

“You could say that—but I’d say a five-letter word beginning with ‘B’ and possibly with ‘Super’ in front of it would be more appropriate.”

“You should have left me back in London.”

“Too right, but there’s the eighty thousand dollars and my mother’s jewellery. You could have kept the money but the jewellery? No way.”

He stalked away from her, stared out of the window distractedly.

“Presumably you’d given it to me?”

His head turned. He looked at her fiercely, his gaze seeming to pin her to the ground.

“You know that’s the one thing you hankered for, but the one thing you never got.”

Maddy shook her head. Her temples started to hurt. There was a pain gnawing away deep inside her; shame and guilt were there too.

What kind of woman am I? A thief, a liar and a cheat?

She remembered Colin Franklyn’s innuendo, was there even more to be revealed?

“But you’ve conveniently forgotten,” the sarcastic drawl resumed. “Found in a street in London with nothing. Tell me, Maddy, did you sell it? And what have you done with the proceeds?”

She looked up, daring to face his pitiless gaze. “I don’t know. I swear, Nevis I do not know.”

His expression told her that he didn’t believe her. But she couldn’t let him defeat her. Some inner sense prevailed. “If you want to find everything then you have to help me, Nevis. And you have to prove to yourself that I’m telling the truth.

* * * *

The next morning Nevis came to her room. After a wretched night she’d fallen asleep about four in the morning. It had to be six thirty when he called her name, then. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”

She stumbled into the shower, and afterwards she fumbled through the wardrobe, rejecting anything that was coloured lavender. How boring, wearing the same colour, she thought, it was almost to the point of being an obsession; it would be like wearing a uniform. Finally after a frantic search, a pair of denim jeans and a white shirt was revealed. She pulled them on. Out of necessity she had to select a lilac jacket. The song “Lavender Blue Dilly Dilly” came into her head.

If things weren’t so serious it would be quite funny. Downstairs breakfast was laid out in the morning room. To her dismay Franklyn was there and Joseph too. She smiled at Joseph, avoided eye contact with Franklyn. She took a little cereal from a box on a side dresser, pouring it into a small dish, before reaching for the milk.

“Take more than that,” Nevis drawled coldly, barely looking at her. “We’ll be gone some while.”

In order to pacify him she took some toast and then, seeing a jug of orange juice, poured a glassful. She crossed back to the table and took a chair at the far end, away from where the men were in conversation.

Nevis was drawling orders. Joseph was nodding, obviously taking it all in while Franklyn wrote things down in a small notebook.

“Got it?” he asked at the end.

“No worries, boss,” Joseph said.

“Okay…you ready?” Nevis merely nodded in her direction. She would have liked a coffee but didn’t want to linger in the same room as Franklyn.

“Fine,” she said, but as she went by the dresser, she poured some coffee into a chunky cup and followed Nevis out. Not running to catch him up, but moving at a leisurely pace, sipping the coffee as she went.

The four-wheel-drive was parked by the veranda. Nevis was behind the wheel and the passenger door was open. After putting her coffee on the floor of the vehicle, she climbed inside, then retrieved the cup and continued to sip. The whole movement hadn’t been very elegant but at least she’d managed it without asking for any help.

“I have a thermos in the back and water. I never go anywhere without carrying coffee and water; you should know that.”

She closed her eyes. “If I don’t remember you,I’m damned sure I don’t know what you carry in your Land Rover.”

“Land Rover?” He turned on the engine. “Now where did that come from?”

But Maddy didn’t bother to answer. He was determined not to believe her and who could blame him? She was from all accounts a pretty despicable character.

The things she had done appalled her. Last night she had tossed on her bed, riddled with guilt and despair. There was the realisation too that she didn’t want to be cured of her amnesia, didn’t want to have to live inside the skin of the woman she was!

They drove first into town. ‘Ballantyne’ the sign announced. He glanced at her as she sighed. “My Great Grandfather started the town. He opened a general store.”

The town consisted of a broad street lined with wooden stores. There was a wide veranda running on either side of the street. There were a couple of cafes with tables and chairs outside and a prettily painted gift store. There was a pub and one of those small convenience stores and at the end of the street was a service station. Behind the street were a few one-storey houses—but Nevis drove through the town in minutes.

It didn’t take a lot of driving either, for them to leave the fields behind. Soon the vehicle was climbing an escarpment—on one side of the road the thick forest clung to the hillsides, on the other side was a steep drop to the ocean. Now and again there was a deserted curve of beach. Nothing seemed familiar, but she kept such thoughts to herself. Nor did she bother to ask where they were going. It didn’t matter anyway.

The metalled road soon gave way to a bumpy track. She clung to the vehicle’s handgrips as they jolted along. There were trees on both sides of them and no sign of other life.

Eventually they came to a town even smaller than Ballantyne, leading down to a wide, mud-coloured river. They took a chain ferry, then drove along the un-metalled road on the other side.

Maddy didn’t notice the track leading off the road, and was lurched against the door as Nevis turned the vehicle. They travelled about a mile until they came to a wooden building. As he pulled in behind it she saw it was a small house. Beyond, seen through a gap in the trees, was a white sand beach.

“Remember this?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“We came here for our honeymoon; we ate fresh fruit and drank champagne. We swam in the Coral Sea. Later you told me you’d have preferred Sydney.”

“Sounds like I was an idiot. Do you own this place?”

“I do.”

He left the vehicle and she followed. There were steps up to a veranda and a row of shuttered windows. He opened the door—it hadn’t been locked. Maddy waited until he opened the shutters before going inside. The coolness of the place was delightful, and the polished wooden floor tempted her to kick off her shoes. The wood felt wonderful against her bare feet.

The house was small; there was an armchair and a sofa. Lots of books stuffed into a bookshelf. Off the central room was a small kitchen, with a barbecue area just outside. The stove was powered by bottled gas and judging by the absence of switches and presence of numerous candles, she assumed there was no electricity.

There was a bedroom with built-in closet. A huge white filmy net covered the bed but there was no other furniture. There was one door opening to a smaller bedroom. Since there were no other doors she could imagine the bathroom facilities—but wasn’t about to ask. It was an ideal place for a honeymoon—if you were madly in love what else would you need? She blushed at her fevered imaginings. She and Nevis alone. He must have been in love with me at one time—and was I in love with him?

He was attractive. Something about him awoke in her a wild and kind-of physical attraction.

After a cup of coffee from the thermos, she followed him down to the beach. The sand was damp; there were clusters of reef and then a great stretch of dark green water. The sun was hot, the water looked inviting. She tested it with her finger, it was deliciously warm.
“Stingers—it’s their time of year, “he murmured, “it’d be madness to bathe.”

Stingers?

It meant nothing to her, but he made them sound unpleasant.

* * * *

Nevis walked ahead of Maddy, hands thrust in the pockets of his jeans. He hadn’t had a lot of sleep; he’d been thinking about her and her latest tricks. There were more ways to catch a mackerel, he had decided,and one of the ways was to go along. His head had buzzed with all kinds of ideas. The trip out had been because he knew she’d hated the far North. He’d watched for a sulky pout to form at her mouth but it hadn’t happened. He decided that he’d pretend to go along with her. He thought he knew how to frighten the life out of her, to make her confess, or alternatively to make her go away. Either way he would eventually be rid of her.

“Look,” he said. He turned so suddenly he almost bumped into her. “Perhaps there is something wrong with you, maybe there always was!”

“Thank you so much,” she said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“You know about everything,” he said, hesitating, “...and if you remembered then you’d understand my caution. But we’ll forget that. I can see you’re going to tell me that you don’t remember—for now—I’ll get you a doctor—an expert.”

“There’s nothing that can be done. They told me there was only time.”

“That’s their opinion, we’ll get someone else. There’s someone I know…from school.”

“School?” She hadn’t meant it to sound too damning.

“I wasn’t at a backwoods school all my life. I went to school in Melbourne. It’s where they always ask where you went to school. It’s that important down there.”
She looked at him blankly.

He sighed. “In Adelaide it’s what Church you go to, in Melbourne what school, in Sydney, how much money you’ve got?”

“Oh.”

He looked at her for a long time. She matched the gaze but eventually she had to turn away. The silver—eyed stare made her feel cold.

He stepped towards her, just one step. “You know, that accident knocked something out of you, more than your memory. You’ve lost that hard look.”

“Really? Well you certainly haven’t lost yours!”

“You should know about that, baby, you put it there.”

She reeled from the forcefulness of the statement. It was a terrible accusation and she hadn’t the means to defend herself. She didn’t know about the past and couldn’t refute his claim.

“We’d better get back,” he said. “Before it gets dark.”

It was a long way to come for such a short stay; she would have liked to spend longer there. Although the thought of an overnight stay terrified her. It was too intimate, and for him must have very sensual memories.

“If you need the dunny—”

“The what?”

“Dunny. The toilet. It’s out back.”

Fortunately she didn’t need it. He did, and while he was away she went back to the four-wheel-drive and scrambled inside. He was grinning when he came back. The grin softened his harsh features and gave him an almost picaresque charm.

“It’s not primitive, you know,” he said, climbing inside. “There’s some semblance of civilization.”

Maddy turned her head away from his amused gaze, not wishing him to notice her reddening cheeks.

“You know, Maddy, I could get two hundred to one in town betting on the fact that you can still blush!”

It was one thing too many.

“Just shut up about me. I’m a bitch, I accept that, just let me find out in my own time how big a bitch.”

Her retort silenced him. They drove back without speaking and as soon as he pulled up at Mandorah, she left his side and ran up to her room.

* * * *

It took a long warm shower before she felt physically clean again but nothing could cleanse her mind. She could remember nothing, but she hated herself. Hated the woman he said she was. What was worse was the fact that she believed him, too. It was the familiar instinct that told her that he was telling the truth.