“Very likely,” James answered complacently selecting a mouth-watering patty. “Royce is often in the news.”
“Royce who? Come on, you’re being very cagey.”
“Carrie, love, this job wouldn’t suit you,” James said, wondering why he had even mentioned it.
“The fact is I’m becoming more interested by the minute.”
“It’s not going to happen. I understand the little girl is…difficult. Other governesses haven’t lasted long.”
“What does the little terror do?” Carrie asked, having a special soft spot for “little terrors.” She had been one herself.
James laughed. “I know what you’re thinking. Didn’t Glenda complain a lot about you? Royce sees it differently of course. The governesses are at fault.”
“Aaaaah! Does the dragon have a surname?”
“Royce McQuillan. Splendid fellow. One of the finest young men I’ve ever met. Hasn’t had an easy life, either. He lost his father and mother a few years back. They were killed in a plane crash holidaying overseas. Then his marriage broke up.”
“Oh, dear!” Carrie slumped, knowing what heartache meant. “The mother didn’t take the child? That’s unusual.”
“Didn’t want her, it appears.” James’ kind eyes grew soulful. “I don’t know the full story in that area, Royce doesn’t explain much. You’d have to know of her, though she’d be some years older than you. Thirty, maybe thirty-one. Very glamorous woman. Almost a beauty but too brittle. Sharon Rowlands, that was. Hugh Rowlands heads the Standford Pastoral Company. Ruth Rowlands and her daughter spend most of their time following the social scene. You see them in all the magazines.”
“Except I’ve been too busy to read them. The little girl must have been devastated when her parents split up. How old is she?”
“A very precocious six going on seven,” James said.
“So they were married young?” Carrie observed, making calculations.
“According to Liz the marriage was arranged while they were both in the cradle.”
“That’s how it works in some families. It didn’t take them long to grow apart.”
“No.” James truly, genuinely, felt very sorry for his client. “Royce has very big responsibilities, big commitments. The talk is Sharon got bored.”
“Bored?” Carrie was stunned. What sort of life did this Sharon want? “So you’ve met her?”
“A few times,” James said.
“What did you think of her as a person?”
“Too shallow for Royce. Liz thought so, too. She’s an excellent judge of character.”
“Yes, she is.” Carrie had turned very serious. “The mother must have a heart of stone if she could bear to leave her child.”
James stared into his coffee cup. “I hate to say it but the word is the little one might interfere with her pleasure. I expect she’ll remarry though Liz thinks she’ll never get over Royce, let alone find another man like him.”
“Maybe if she still cares about him they could get back together,” Carrie said reasonably. “Make a go of it for their child. They can’t have any of the financial worries that put a strain on most couples.”
“Money doesn’t ensure happiness, my darling,” James said heavily, thinking of any number of his wealthy clients who had finished up in the divorce courts. “I thank God for my marriage every day of my life.”
Carrie gave him the old warm smile. “You’re beautiful people, Jamie. You and Liz. Beautiful, tolerant, generous, caring people.” Determinedly she pushed all thought of her stepmother’s mean-spiritedness from her mind. “I love you. Always will.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes, the atmosphere full of an easy companionship. “You know I’m like your father in this respect,” James confided after a while. “I couldn’t bear the thought of your going away. I know you had to for your career. I was terror stricken when I got that phone call….” He broke off, the news of Carrie’s accident embedded in his consciousness.
“I know, James. It could have been much worse.” Carrie forced a smile.
“Much, much worse, my darling. Losing my sister was a terrible blow. I couldn’t face anything horrible happening to you.” James spoke huskily. “There’s something else in store for you, kitten.” He used an old pet name. “Something wonderful. It may not seem like it now.”
“It doesn’t.” Carrie swallowed. “It’s hard for me, Jamie. Very hard.”
“Yes, yes.” James reached over to grip his niece’s left hand. “Liz and I understand what the loss of your career means to you.”
“Of course. I may not have had a career.” Carrie tried to look at it another way. “I mightn’t have made the grade. There are many, many fine young pianists out there. One almost has to have a gimmick.”
“Your beauty? Your personality?” James suggested, then stopped abruptly, realising it was all over.
“But I don’t need a gimmick after all.” For a moment Carrie had a stark image of the crash. Horror then sudden darkness. Then the full realisation when she woke up in hospital. “I need a job, Jamie,” she said. “You can help me. You’re handling this matter for your client?”
“I was going to allow Galbally to conduct the interviews,” James said.
Carrie allowed herself a little gasp of dismay not lost on her uncle.
“Dearest, I don’t have time,” James explained. “Women are so much better at these things.”
“Not Ms. Galbally.” Carrie raised her eyebrows.
“She takes her responsibilities very seriously,” James said loyally.
“I’m sure she does. Can’t you recommend me, Jamie?”
James dropped his head forward. “Your father wouldn’t like it at all. I can just image his response.”
“Glenda would.”
James responded to the irony. “But it mightn’t work out at all, Carrie. I don’t want to put you into a situation where you might be unhappy. Cut off and depressed.”
“Unhappier, don’t you mean? I can look after a little girl. She must be especially vulnerable. Like me. Maybe I can bring something to her. Two female creatures under pressure.”
James nibbled his nether lip. “Royce is coming to the office in a half hour. We have business to attend to. The revival in beef prices has boosted sales in the rural property sector. He’s thinking in terms of expansion.”
“Does he want to own the whole country?” Carrie asked with mild sarcasm.
“We need men like Royce McQuillan, dearest.”
“I know,” she relented. “Would it be okay if I waited?”
James sat back, focusing totally on his niece. “You’re serious about this?”
“Yes.” She touched the little finger of her right hand, and rubbed it in a distracted fashion. Strange, it still looked okay. “Of course I won’t know how serious until I lay eyes on the great nation builder, but as you like and approve of him he must be okay.”
“Indeed he is, which is not say he’s an easy man,” James considered. “He’s only into his thirties but already he has extraordinary presence. Such an aura! It takes most men years of achievement to acquire that.”
“Must