The Only Woman to Defy Him by Carol Marinelli Page B

something to be done. If not the tenants needing something then there are boundaries or fences...’ He shook his head. ‘I should have sold it ages ago.’
    ‘Why didn’t you?’
    Demyan was trying to keep it business on the two-hour drive there.
    It was business, he had to remind himself as he told Alina what she needed to know.
    ‘This couple were friends of my aunt’s,’ Demyan said. ‘They had the neighbouring orchards. The property was left to me on Katia’s death. I was never going to live there...’ Alina glanced over, at his brief hesitation. ‘Well, I did consider it at one time. Then there were bush fires and Ross and Mary’s property and orchards were razed. I leased to them the house and my orchards. It has been twelve years. Their orchards are back...’ Demyan drove through the mountains, trying to ignore his own disquiet.
    ‘What about their home?’
    ‘They chose not to rebuild.’ He glanced over and saw her tight lips. ‘They can make an offer. They have a very successful business, flourishing orchards...’ He glanced over again. ‘You’re not writing it down.’
    ‘I don’t need to.’ Alina looked out of the window. ‘Our farm was described as flourishing too.’
    ‘What produce?’
    ‘Waratah.’ She knew from the silence he was waiting for her to explain. ‘They’re huge, red flowers, beautiful, like a big cabbage...’ Her voice trailed off. What would he care? ‘I just know farming’s hard. Selling produce is hard.’ Alina gave a tight smile. ‘Anyway...’
    They drove the rest of the way in silence.
    Business, Demyan told himself as he shook Ross’s hand.
    Ross had calmed down since the phone call. Demyan had been good to them after all. No, they wouldn’t be making an offer, Ross said as Alina pulled on very well-worn leather ankle boots and they walked around.
    This Christmas especially hadn’t been a great one and Demyan knew from his aunt that when you sold cherries in Australia for a livelihood you lived and died by Christmas.
    It was just as hard as expected to be back at the property where he had spent those years with his aunt, years spent thawing just a little from a brutal life.
    It was harder, though, than he’d imagined, a couple of hours of discussions later, to be back in the house, to wash his hands in the bathroom and catch sight of himself in a mirror and see a man staring back instead of a mistrusting youth.
    ‘We’ll do this as seamlessly as possible.’ Demyan said as he shook Ross’s hand. ‘Alina will be in contact and...’ His voice broke off. For once Demyan didn’t know how to conclude a business meeting.
    ‘Of course,’ Ross finished.
    ‘I made you some lunch.’ Mary’s eyes were as swollen as Alina’s had been that morning. ‘I know it must be hard for you too, Demyan. I remember when you first came here...’ She gave a soft laugh. ‘Look at you now.’
    ‘Times change.’
    ‘They do,’ Mary said. She offered him the basket of food. ‘I thought you might want to take a last look around.’
    Demyan didn’t want one last look. He wanted to get into the car and drive off, to just drive away and never look back. To blow up the life he had built here because without Roman it meant nothing anyway.
    Didn’t it?
    ‘Thank you.’
    It would be rude to refuse, Demyan told himself.
    Not that that had ever stopped him in his life.
    They walked for ages, right up to the back orchards, and they walked in silence. Alina’s head felt as if it was exploding. There was so much about Demyan she loathed—the way he spoke to his ex-wife, that he wasn’t fighting for his son, that he was ripping up Ross and Mary’s lives when surely, surely they must mean something to him.
    Clearly they didn’t.
    She wanted to loathe him and yet...
    Her world had never felt...
    She had never felt as much as she felt now, walking through an orchard with Demyan beside her.
    Alina felt like crying, like singing, like getting naked.
    She just felt.
    ‘Do you