by Judy Nunn
‘I don’t,’ she answered with a wan smile, feeling embarrassed. ‘Really.’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘Really. Come on.’
They went into the bar and he ordered two Scotches. ‘If you don’t want yours I’ll have it,’ he said and she actually heard herself laugh. ‘But drink it if you can,’ he added, ‘it’ll do you good.’ She took several sips of the Scotch and to her surprise rather enjoyed it, or rather the sense of relaxation it afforded her.
Paul had downed his drink quickly and ordered another when the desk clerk arrived with the key. ‘Thanks, Jimmy,’ he said, ‘I’ll see Mrs Galloway to her room.’ Then he turned to Henrietta, ‘Do you want anything to eat? Jimmy’ll have something sent up.’
‘No thanks, I’m a bit tired, I think I’ll just go to bed.’
‘But it’s only seven o’clock and I’m starving. Send up some sandwiches will you, Jimmy, a bit of a mixture, anything’ll do, and a couple of Scotches.’
‘Of course, Sir.’
In her room, they stood by the open shuttered windows looking out over the sports oval and the harbour beyond. It was a beautiful evening. The heat had waned and the dusk air was mild, the light over the water grey and peaceful.
‘I’ll go if you want me to,’ Paul said.
‘What about the sandwiches?’
‘I’m not really hungry, but I thought you should eat something.’
‘What about the Scotches?’
‘I’ll take them with me.’
She smiled. ‘I don’t want you to go.’
‘Good, I don’t want to.’
They sat by the windows. ‘Thank you, Paul,’ she said.
‘My pleasure.’
‘I can’t tell you what happened.’ She felt she owed him an explanation.
‘I don’t expect you to.’ He could have said ‘you don’t need to’, but he didn’t. Aggie had been right, the husband was a bastard, he’d obviously hit her, there was no doubt about that. Paul wondered what she would do. Would she leave him? Probably not, she had a small son to think of. He longed to hold her. She looked so vulnerable.
The sandwiches and Scotches arrived. Henrietta found herself ravenously hungry. Paul sat and drank as he watched her eat.
‘Are you sure you don’t want some?’ she asked.
‘Quite sure.’ She didn’t realise that he simply wanted to watch her.
Henrietta couldn’t believe that she was scoffing back sandwiches and enjoying herself. Some switch had mercifully clicked off in her brain. In this room, beneath this ceiling fan, Darwin Harbour gleaming through the open windows, in the company of this man who demanded no explanation, the agony had disappeared. It would be back, she knew, but for this moment, she didn’t need to seek answers.
She finished the sandwiches and they sat chatting comfortably about Paul’s forthcoming assignment for National Geographic, or rather he did. Then he finished his final Scotch and rose from his chair.
‘Goodnight, Henrietta,’ he said.
‘Oh,’ she didn’t want him to go. If he went, she would start thinking again and the demons of indecision would come back. ‘Don’t you want to order up a couple more Scotches?’ she asked hopefully.
‘It’s nine o’clock,’ he laughed, ‘if I do that the rumours’ll be rife. We’ll have settled in for the night.’
‘Oh yes, of course, what a pity.’
‘I could pop back to my room and grab a bottle.’
‘Go on,’ she urged. ‘I’ll have one with you.’
He was back only minutes later. ‘I made sure I was seen going into my room,’ he announced, ‘but no-one saw me duck back here. Your reputation is intact, Mrs Galloway.’
‘Thank goodness for that.’
Surprisingly enough, they didn’t drink much, but they talked. Or rather Paul did, at Henrietta’s instigation. She knew so very little about him, she said.
It occurred to Henrietta that nobody knew much about Paul Trewinnard. Even Aggie, who was a fund of information about everyone in Darwin, knew only that he’d been married at one time. ‘I think the wife died,’ she’d told Henrietta, ‘ages ago.’
‘You’re a man of mystery, Paul,’ Henrietta remarked.
‘Not really,’ he replied, ‘just “a bit of a bad egg”, that’s what my father used to say.’ Paul was prepared to talk about himself, not only to distract and comfort her, but in order to stay in her company.
‘I can’t believe that.’
‘Oh yes. I was a lawyer with the family practice. Very old firm established by my grandfather. Frightfully respectable, don’t you know,’ he said with a toffy accent. ‘Frightfully wealthy too, I might add. But I took a wrong turn and they threw me out.’
‘What on earth for?’
Out of habit, Paul hesitated for a moment. Foong Lee was the only person in Darwin who knew his past but if, in telling Henrietta his story, he could momentarily deflect her pain then he was quite happy to talk.
‘My wife and child died in an accident,’ he said, ‘a very long time ago.’
‘Oh,’ she hoped he didn’t think she’d been prying. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘So was I,’ he said. ‘But the real problem was that I killed them.’ He was surprised at the ease with which he said it. ‘A drunken car accident,’ he continued, ‘senseless deaths, an ignominious end to two wonderful lives. A good woman and a beautiful little girl, she was just two years old. And I was responsible.’
‘Oh Paul …’
He didn’t want her sympathy, it wasn’t why he’d told her, he simply wanted to distract her, and he’d obviously succeeded. ‘So, you see, I became a bit of a lost soul.’ His tone was very matter-of-fact, ‘no use to the family, no use to the firm, I just drank and wallowed in self-pity. They sent me to Singapore, ostensibly to manage their agency there, Trewinnard and Sons had a lot of wealthy clients in Singapore. They still have, despite the war. But I couldn’t manage a thing, least of all myself, and I wasn’t needed in Singapore, a cousin looked after the agency quite adequately.’ He gave a wry laugh. ‘Simon and I couldn’t stand each other, he’s a typical Trewinnard. Every male member of the family went into the firm, you see, I’m sure they still do, I’ve rather lost touch. They all studied law whether they liked it or not. And I didn’t like it at all, so even before the accident I was the “bad egg” as father was wont to say. They just paid me a director’s fee to keep me out of the way. They still do.’ He smiled to lighten the mood. ‘Australians have a perfect term for my sort of chap, “a useless bludger”, it’s very apt.’
Henrietta smiled in return and waited for him to continue, obviously intrigued, so he did.
‘I came to Darwin in the thirties and met Foong Lee,’ he said, ‘and that’s probably what saved me. Somehow he straightened me out. God alone knows how,’ he gave a humorous shrug, ‘he’s such a funny little man, but he’s damned effective when he sets out to do something.’
Paul knew exactly how Foong Lee had helped him, but there were some things he was not prepared to tell Henrietta. He realised, however, that he may have sounded too flippant and he didn’t wish to trivialise his friendship with the Chinese, so he added more seriously, ‘Foong Lee is a priceless friend to me.’ Then he laughed and the banter was back in his tone. ‘Of course even Foong Lee can’t accomplish the impossible, and I’m still a bludger, I serve little purpose.’
This time Henrietta didn’t laugh in return. She leaned forwards in her chair, her face very close to his. ‘You serve a great purpose to me,’ she said. ‘To me you are a priceless friend.’
He kissed her. He wasn’t sure if she wanted him to, but he couldn’t help himself. It was a gentle kiss, and she gently responded. But when she didn’t break away, he wasn’t sure what to do. He desperately desired her, he would have given anything to make love to Henrietta Galloway, but how could he take advantage of her under such circumstances. For one brief moment, as he broke free of their kiss, her eyes remained closed, her lips parted, and it took Paul every shred
of willpower he could muster to rise and say, as casually as he could, ‘It’s time you went to sleep, Henrietta.’
She also rose. ‘I won’t be able to sleep,’ she said. ‘Please stay with me.’
‘Are you sure?’ Did she know what she was asking? Did she know how he felt, or did she merely need his company?
Henrietta knew exactly what she was asking. In the moment of their kiss she had recognised both his desire and his love. She didn’t question whether she loved him in return. She so ached to be loved that she didn’t think beyond the fact that she wanted Paul to stay and she wanted him to make love to her.
‘I’m sure,’ she said. ‘Please. Stay the night with me, Paul.’
They kissed again, more deeply this time, and as they held each other close Henrietta felt that she had never before experienced such tenderness, nor had she felt herself more deeply aroused.
They undressed each other slowly, their lips barely parting, their hands caressing each other all the while, and Henrietta’s mind could encompass nothing but his touch. Her whole body was a receptor, it seemed. His fingers in her hair, upon her face, tracing a line down her naked back, and when he gently cupped her breast in his hand and bowed his head to her nipple, she shuddered with ecstasy. Never had she felt such pleasure.
He entered her slowly, and they made love as gently as they had caressed, tantalising each other until both were at the peak of their desire.
Paul fought to control himself for as long as possible, to give her as much pleasure as he could, but when he could last no longer, in his final moment, he looked into her eyes. Henrietta could not return his gaze, she was transported. Her eyelids were fluttering, her neck and her back arched as she offered herself to him, and sounds that she’d never known she could utter were emanating from deep in her throat.
‘Henrietta,’ Paul said her name as he gave in to his release, and she clung to him, her body frozen with his as if they were one. They quivered together in mutual ecstasy and Paul remained inside her until her body stopped shuddering and her eyes finally opened. Then, spent and exhausted, he withdrew to lie on his back and hold her to him.
Henrietta was dazed, astounded by her body’s response. So that was what it was like, for years now she’d stopped wondering.
‘I love you, Henrietta,’ he whispered as she snuggled into the crook of his arm.
‘I love you too,’ she said. She didn’t analyse whether it was truly love that she felt, she didn’t know and she didn’t care. She was simply aware of an overwhelming gratitude and affection as she drifted into a blissful sleep.
In the morning she awoke before he did and, in her moment of waking, she looked at the strange room and wondered if it had all been a dream. But his arm was draped across her and she could feel his breath against the back of her neck. Gently, so as not to disturb him, she rolled over and looked at him as he lay sleeping. He was snoring quietly and he looked quite beautiful in sleep, she thought, peaceful and tender. She should feel riddled with guilt, but she didn’t, and she wondered at the fact. Did it mean that she loved him?
He gave a sharp snort, startling himself as he did so, and the snoring stopped. She thought he was about to awaken, but he didn’t, he heaved a sigh and continued gently snoring again. She smiled. Yes, she loved him, she’d wake him up shortly and tell him so and they’d make love again.
Henrietta’s smile faded. After they’d made love they would need to talk, and she knew what she must tell him. She loved him, yes, but not enough to desert her son. She knew what she must do, and she knew now that she had the strength to do it. She couldn’t conduct a clandestine affair with Paul, she couldn’t live such a lie. And, even if she could, Darwin was a small town, a hotbed of gossip, the truth would become known and Terence, she was certain, would not only kill her, he would kill Paul too. If she must live a lie, then for the sake of her son she must persuade herself that Terence was right, that there were outback ways to which she must adjust. And she must live the lie of sharing her life with a man she detested.
He gave another snort, louder this time, it was obviously his preamble to awakening. Then he sighed once more and made as if to roll over but he stopped, and his hand, now resting on her hip, caressed her as if in sleep he was wondering who was lying beside him. His eyes opened in an instant.
‘Good morning.’ He smiled, ‘I thought I might have dreamed it.’
‘So did I.’ She grinned back at him. ‘I didn’t know you snored.’
‘Well you wouldn’t, would you? How unattractive of me.’
‘Not really.’ She wriggled closer to him and he could feel the fullness of her breasts against his chest. ‘You weren’t very loud, I found it quite disarming,’ she said and she wriggled again, wantonly.
They made love, laughing this time, teasing each other’s desire, and this time, in her final moment, she looked into his eyes.
‘I love you, Paul,’ she said when they were spent and lay on their backs holding hands and looking at the ceiling.
‘Do you really?’ he turned his head towards her and there was a joyful incredulity in his eyes. ‘How wonderful.’
She wondered if now was the time to have their conversation, but before she could say anything further he’d jumped out of bed and was pulling on his clothes. ‘It’s seven o’clock,’ he said, ‘we have to cover our tracks. You order breakfast. Just for one of course, and I’ll go and mess up my bed so the maids don’t talk. I won’t be long.’ And he was gone.
She had a shower and waited, but it was a good half hour before he returned. Her bowl of fruit and toast and pot of tea arrived, and she was wondering what had happened to him when there was a light tap on her door and she opened it to discover Paul standing there, a pot of coffee in one hand and a plate of toast in the other.
He ducked inside and she closed the door. ‘Coffee and toast,’ he said, ‘my daily start to the day, I thought it wise not to break the habit. And I waited until I saw the maid deliver your breakfast.’
They sat on the bed and ate together, like two naughty children sharing an illicit picnic. And when they’d finished eating, she kissed him, it was quite evident she wanted to make love again.
‘Good God, girl,’ Paul said, ‘I’m not a young stud anymore, I’m forty-seven years old.’ But it appeared, with Henrietta, anything was possible. He certainly felt like a young stud again.
As they lay, once more exhausted, in each other’s arms, there was a knock on the door.
‘The maid,’ Paul mouthed the words, and Henrietta dressed quickly, calling out, ‘Just a minute please.’
She opened the door several inches.
‘Do you want your room made up, madam?’
‘Not right now, thank you, I’ll be booking out in the next half hour or so.’
‘Very good, madam.’
She closed the door and turned to face him. The incident had had an instantly sobering effect on them both. ‘It’s time I left,’ she said.
‘Yes, I know.’
And it was time for the conversation, Henrietta thought, dreading the prospect. ‘We can’t ever do this again,’ she said bluntly, she didn’t know how else to put it.
‘I know that too,’ he said as he rose and started dressing. ‘It’s why I’ve been covering our tracks.’
She sat silently on the bed and watched him. She didn’t know what she’d expected, perhaps that he might beg her to come away with him. But he wasn’t looking at her as he efficiently tied up his shoelaces.
‘It’s just as well I’m going on Monday,’ he said, ‘I may stay away for quite a while longer, I think perhaps it’s for the better.’ The efficiency of his tone belied his feelings. He wanted to hold her and tell her he would love her for the rest of his life, but he had known she would go back to her husband and son, what was the point in prolonging it?
‘Yes,’ she said quietly. What more was there to say?
‘Will you be safe, Henrietta?’ He was worried for her.
‘Yes,
’ she said, ‘I’ll be quite safe.’
He looked at her intently, ‘Are you sure?’
She nodded. ‘It’s the first time he’s hit me.’ They hadn’t discussed Terence once, but Henrietta knew Paul had guessed that he’d struck her. ‘And there were circumstances,’ she said awkwardly, her voice trailing off. ‘It won’t happen again, he’s promised me.’
He took her in his arms. ‘If you ever need me …’
‘Yes, I know,’ she said as they held each other. But she would never need him. Or if she ever felt she did, she would never call upon him, she daren’t.
Paul knew exactly what she was thinking. ‘I won’t keep in touch,’ he said, and she was grateful. ‘But Aggie will always know where I am.’ He eased her away from him and his eyes were deadly serious. ‘Promise me, Henrietta. Promise me that if you’re ever in danger you’ll contact me.’
‘I promise.’
They kissed gently, then he said, ‘You get your things together and call the porter. I’ll go downstairs and bump into you in the foyer.’ He smiled. ‘It’ll put the finishing touch to the charade.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘My darling girl,’ he said.
She brushed her lips against his. ‘My dearest love,’ she whispered. And, as she did so, she knew that it was true, that she would love Paul Trewinnard for as long as she lived.
He left quietly closing the door behind him, and fifteen minutes later they bumped into each other in the foyer.
‘You’re leaving, Henrietta,’ he said brightly.
‘Yes, it was just an overnight stay,’ she answered.
‘It’s all right, Bob,’ he said to the porter, ‘I’ll see Mrs Galloway to her car. You must come into town more often,’ he said, picking up her suitcase, ‘it’s been lovely to see you.’
‘Yes, I must,’ she agreed as they walked out through the main doors.
They shook hands just before she got into the car.
‘Goodbye, Henrietta,’ he said.
‘Goodbye, Paul.’
In one of the many makeshift tents on the island, Lucretia van den Mylen knelt with the predikant, his wife Maria and their six children. It would soon be night, the night of the fourth day since the wreck of the Batavia, and Gijsbert Bastiaensz was leading his family in prayer.
