by Lucy Walker
‘Oh, here you all are,’ she said. ‘Breakfast’s waiting for you.’
She held out her hand to Kate and kissed her.
‘Welcome, Kate,’ she said. Then she held out her left hand to Rick.
‘Hullo, Rick, dear. Want some breakfast?’
‘I think I’ll take a horse and make tracks, Beatrix. Seems you’ll all be busy.’
‘You won’t do anything of the sort.’ She turned to Kate. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come, Kate. Come on inside; the boys will bring your cases in.’
She took Kate’s arm and began to walk towards the house with her. She looked over her shoulder.
‘Come on, Rick,’ she called. ‘The Mater will have something to say if you go off without breakfast.’
The sun was getting hot now. It steamed down on the little golden brown garden path.
The house was completely surrounded by a wired-in veranda. This kept out the flies and insects. From outside it gave the house a curious box-like secret look, but when the wire door was opened and they stepped up on to the veranda the whole had a wide patio effect. The boards of the veranda were of beautifully polished ruby red timber ‒ the jarrah that stood all around in a mighty forest. The red brick and grey stone of the house made it all look cool and solidly comfortable. On one section of the veranda was a vast square of carpet on which stood a group of chairs and a table.
From a doorway into the house from the veranda Mrs. Weston came forward to meet Kate. She was thin and medium sized. She leaned on a stick in a curious crouching way as she walked. Her hair was dark, straight and lifeless. Her face was pallid. Her eyes were so dark, a brown that when her face was away from the light they seemed to be black. Her eyes were her personality. They were bright, curious and critical. She either had no eyelashes or they were so sparse they didn’t count.
She hobbled a little, leaning on the stick. Kate went forward impulsively, her hand outstretched.
‘How do you do, Mrs. Weston?’ she said.
‘Well, Kate! So you are here!’ She leaned on the stick and looked Kate up and down. Then she straightened herself and shook hands. ‘Well, come and eat. That’s the first thing everyone wants to do when they get to Appleton.’
A pretty girl … a young woman … a little older than Beatrix, came hurriedly around the corner of the veranda. She was enveloped in a blue floral overall. She had an air of being faintly harassed. Her lovely red brown hair was coiled on top of her head like a crown.
‘I’m Annabel,’ she said. ‘Of course everyone eats when they first get here. They’ve generally been travelling all night and had no breakfast.’
Kate shook hands with Annabel.
‘I am a little hungry,’ she said.
‘Of course you are. Mother, do go and sit down. Nobody can have breakfast till you’re sitting down. Here, Hal, take Kate’s hat and gloves inside.’
Kate had pulled her small close-fitting hat off. She shook her hair out and hoped the short fair curls would look neat enough.
‘Do you want to go and have a wash-up, Kate?’ This was Beatrix. Her manner was faintly truculent. Kate felt there was almost a duty laid on her to get on with the breakfast.
‘I washed five minutes before the train came in,’ she said, ‘… and I’m sorry to be so ravenous … but I really would like breakfast. Does anyone mind me as I am?’ She glanced around.
Annabel stopped fussing and looked at Kate.
‘Trust Hal to get himself someone pretty,’ she said kindly. Then she sighed.
‘I’m not really pretty,’ Kate said shyly. ‘I just work at it … you know. One rather has to, in Sydney.’
‘You’re lovely, and so are your clothes. Straight from Sydney. You don’t have to tell us that, Kate.’
As Kate sat down she looked at Annabel curiously. Annabel had the kind of real and natural beauty that only God can give a person. Kate wondered that the other girl should so openly admire her. Annabel herself could be a world beater, if she only stopped fussing, took off that hideous overall … and smiled on the world. She would tell her, sometime.
Annabel hurried to the corner of the veranda.
‘Come on, Millie,’ she called urgently. A servant, fat, barefooted and radiating childish happiness, came towards the table with a tray of steaming jugs, tea-pots and kettles.
They all sat down in the armchairs. The table almost groaned with good food. Kate never saw good food without thinking of everyone in England.
She watched with interest as everyone helped themselves to a bowl of deep red satsuma plums and ladles of cream. Each sat with his bowl in one hand and his spoon in the other. They leaned back in their armchairs in a half circle and gazed out on the garden, the stubble paddocks and the distant forest. Outside the sunshine was now brilliant.
The two men, Hal, and Rick, stretched their feet out in front of them. Their slouch hats lay on the floor under their chairs. Mrs. Weston ate from the table in the traditional style. Beatrix balanced her bowl on the corner of the table. Kate, as she was farthest away, sat with her bowl in her lap. Annabel disappeared around the corner.
Every now and again Beatrix and the two men made conversation about the property. Mrs. Weston said nothing except occasionally to disparage either the food, the tea, the weather, or the price of the stock market. But they all made a very thorough business of eating breakfast. After the plums Annabel, hastening around the corner again, brought hot scones and coffee rolls. Then the servant came back with an enormous dish of liver and bacon. It all smelt good and tasted good. Kate had a glorious feeling of relaxation and well-being.
‘Never again,’ she thought, ‘will I eat breakfast anywhere but in an armchair. Preferably with the sun shining on a garden nearby.’
Even Mrs. Weston’s pessimism did not affect the golden warmth of being comfortable and well fed.
‘She’s what Mother would call a “knocker”,’ Kate thought. ‘She’s depressed and depressing.’ Kate felt sad for her. It might be an uphill job winning Mrs. Weston’s affection.
Through the fine mesh wire of the veranda Kate could see the great stretch of paddock beyond the pine grove. A horseman came galloping over the rise. His horse sailed over the wire fence into the road and then again over the wire fence a bare two chains away and into the paddock on the other side. Presently he was lost behind the outhouses and pines to reappear on the other side of the house. He headed into the forest. He rode magnificently. His hurdling had the timing of a master.
Rick Benallen followed her eyes.
‘That’s Bellew on Ranger … another, less glorious, Foxhunter.’
‘But he doesn’t ride like an Englishman,’ Kate said. ‘Those long stirrups …’
‘When you’re in the saddle all day … every day … the long stirrup’s the only style. You can go to sleep that way.’
Kate laughed. She could see the point. Much of a boundary rider’s riding is just mooching.
Annabel came back and sat down.
‘Beatrix looking after you?’ she said anxiously.
‘Beautifully, thank you,’ said Kate. ‘I’m eating an awful lot, but it’s good for my complexes.’
‘Complexes?’
‘When I start worrying about people, or life, or my job, I start eating. Then I have to start worrying about my figure and getting it back to normal. That takes my mind off people and life.’
They all laughed.
‘Time I went,’ Rick said, getting up. ‘Got a horse in the paddock, Hal, or do I have to catch one?’
‘Now Rick, don’t you go just now,’ Mrs. Weston said plaintively. ‘I want you to wait for Uncle Harry. I want you to give Uncle Harry some advice about those cows we got last trucking.’
Rick smiled down at Mrs. Weston. ‘You know very well Uncle Harry knows as much about cows as I do, Mrs. Weston. But if I can help any …’
‘You can always help, Rick. Now you stay like a good boy. I want to talk to you. You come and sit here next to me. I want to know about the transp
ort rates the Roads Board is charging. What are you and your mother going to do about that, Rick? They’re robbing us, you know.’
He walked round the table and sat down by Mrs. Weston. He leaned forward and dangled his hat between his knees.
‘Don’t you worry,’ he said gently. His smile had a calming effect on Mrs. Weston. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘We’ll bring it up at the next Roads Board Meeting. You and I together can tackle that mob, Mrs. Weston. You and I pay out more per truck on these roads than any other estate owner. We’ll put up a fight.’
He patted her hand.
She did not smile but visibly relaxed.
‘Now, Mother, that’s not fair on Rick,’ Annabel said. ‘Don’t go wasting his time with all our troubles this morning. Kate’s only just got here … and I guess Rick’s got other worries too. After all the extra charge doesn’t amount to five pounds a year.’
‘Five pounds!’ said Mrs. Weston indignantly. She might have been saying five thousand pounds.
‘We’ll fix it.’ Rick said gently. Hal got up and planted his hat on the back of his head. ‘Where you going, Hal?’
‘I’m going out to the sheep paddocks.’
There was a chorus of surprise.
‘Don’t do that, Hal,’ said Annabel. ‘It’s not necessary to-day. After all, Kate’s just got here.’
‘Sorry,’ said Hal. ‘Duty’s duty. Even when celebrities call at Appleton.’
Kate felt the atmosphere a little bit strained.
‘How far are the sheep paddocks, Hal?’ she asked brightly.
‘Out at the Five Mile,’ Hal said. Kate was to learn that the vast paddocks of every property were named according to their distance from the Homestead.
Hal walked towards the corner of the veranda around which the servant periodically appeared and disappeared.
‘Guess I’ll get Judity to pack a lunch.’
There was a silence on the veranda. Kate felt exactly as if she had had a bucket of cold water in her face. And she knew she mustn’t flinch. What had come over Hal?
‘Will you take me one day? I’d love to see right over Appleton.’
Before Hal could answer a great giant of a man came down the garden path and through the wire door on to the veranda. His face was weather-beaten; his hair was snow white and he wore a hearing aid in one ear.
Annabel jumped up and went towards him. She slipped her hand in his arm.
‘Come on, Uncle Harry. You’re late for tea.’
She led him to the group round the table. Rick Benallen stood up. He lifted his hand in greeting.
‘This is Kate, Uncle Harry.’
They shook hands. He was very shy. Kate liked him immensely.
‘They given you something to eat?’ Uncle Harry asked.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Kate said. ‘Much too much to eat really. But all so lovely I couldn’t resist it.’
He sat down and Annabel, standing at her mother’s side, began to ladle plums and cream into a bowl.
Beatrix smiled ironically at her uncle.
‘Mother thinks Rick ought to stay and have a talk with you, Uncle Harry. Mother thinks you need advice … and that Rick ought to give it to you.’
It was clear that Uncle Harry didn’t hear these remarks because in the middle of them he began discussing market prospects with Rick. Kate had a faint suspicion that Beatrix had been talking at her mother and not to Uncle Harry.
In the meantime Hal had gone. Kate began to realise he was not coming back to say good-bye. Her face felt stiff with the smile she was keeping on her mouth. It seemed a tremendous mental effort to take an interest in the detailed conversation Mrs. Weston, Uncle Harry, and Rick Benallen were having about market prices. Beatrix was lolling back in her chair and staring idly out on to the garden. Annabel had gone hastily away again. When she came back to the table to help Millie take away the breakfast things Beatrix gave Kate a sly smile.
‘Every family has its Martha,’ she said.
‘And its Mary?’ asked Kate, returning the smile. Beatrix shrugged.
‘I won’t be put upon when there’s a house full of servants, anyway.’ She stood up and stretched.
‘Come and see your room,’ she said.
As they walked to the door leading into the house she patted Rick Benallen on the shoulder.
‘You’re not allowed to go until after lunch,’ she said. ‘Take Kate to see the orchard presently. Then you’ll have an escort home.’
He turned round and looked at the two girls.
‘Meaning what?’
‘I’ll get some horses in,’ Beatrix said. ‘Kate and me’ll take you home.’
‘In that case I’ll stay for two lunches,’ said Rick. Beatrix winked at Kate.
‘That’ll punish Hal,’ she said.
They went along a passage, beautifully carpeted, which seemed to divide the house into two wings. Half-way along it, doorways on either side led off into passages at right angles. Beyond these doorways and at the end was Kate’s room. It was a high-ceilinged square room with double french windows opening out on to a veranda and lawn. It was on the opposite side of the house from where they had had breakfast. Beyond the lawn was a wing of the apple orchard, and the forest, a dark wall, put a period to the roll of the paddocks beyond the orchard. The forest would be a mile away.
The room was comfortable in an old-fashioned chintz way. The bed was big, ancient and inviting.
‘The bathroom and shower are over the passage,’ Beatrix said. ‘I’ll leave it to you, Kate. When you’re ready find your way to the side veranda … where we had breakfast.’
She shut the door gently behind her.
Kate sat down on the bed. It felt and looked like sleep for tired eyes. It was old, soft and comforting. She lay back against its pillows and stared at the ceiling.
Why did Hal go away so suddenly? Was he changed? Or did she only think it because somewhere inside she had been fearing it? And why did she feel forlorn?
She liked them all … except Mrs. Weston. And she just felt sorry for her. But she knew Hal had hurt her with deliberation. She didn’t know why. She must wait and see. And she had to keep up a facade.
Her face muscles ached from smiling.
Presently she got up, unpacked her face creams and after taking off her jacket and blouse began to cream her face. She leaned over the dressing-table and examined her face minutely.
Everything about it was well cared for, but not fussed about. Her grey eyes were big enough to pass muster and her eyelashes were very black and a little woolly. Her cheekbones were high and her forehead square. Her mouth was generous without being big and she improved its outline by the almost artistic way she used lipstick. The curls in her hair were not natural but they looked it. Kate took care of her hair. It was good strong fair hair and shone when she brushed it. When it was fashionable to have straight hair she wore it straight. At present it was fashionable to have it short and curly. So she wore it that way.
For all the care she took of her appearance she knew it did not make her sophisticated or artificial. Benita Holmes had been a good mentor.
As she looked at her mouth she shook her head sagely. For all the careful lipsticking it remained sensitive and mobile. It would give her away if she didn’t look out. She would have to keep smiling now. To cover up.
What would they think of her anyway? A girl who had chased two-and-a-half thousand miles across Australia and into the forest to lasso Hal?
With a little catch at her heart she realised it couldn’t matter, in the long run, what they thought. Except Rick Benallen. He was the sort of person who did matter. She would like to keep her pride with a stiff upper lip in front of someone like him.
She heard the boots of a brigade of soldiers pounding around the veranda outside the long french windows. Rick Benallen tapped on one with his finger-nail. Kate put a towel round her shoulders and with one finger moved aside the muslin curtain.
‘Is there a girl to spare anywhere?’ He certa
inly had a likeable grin.
‘Say whose girl am I?’ said Kate, laughing back at him.
‘I’ll toss you.’ He pulled a penny out of his pocket and smiled at it.
‘Come in spinner,’ he called, and flicked the penny in the air. ‘Up and kiss the angels! Down and … Well, never mind about down except that it’s heads and I win!’
‘Is that two-up you are playing?’
‘Well, this time it was one-up. It only takes one to win when one is determined.’
‘Do you have all Hal’s girls second hand?’
‘You’re the first. But it looks like a fair sample to me.’
‘Am I supposed to believe you?’
‘You needn’t even listen to me. Come on out and I’ll show you the orchard. You look at the apples and I’ll look at the girl.’
‘Give me ten minutes. I’d like a shower.’
‘I’ll give you an hour if you look as nice as when you got off that train.’
Kate made a moue and let the curtain fall.
‘He talks like that to every girl,’ she thought. ‘But isn’t it heavenly to be the one … just for a little while?’ Then she stopped still.
‘Perhaps he’s just sorry for me. I can’t bear that. I’ve got to play back somehow.’
She groomed her face into that smile again. Her heart ached for the kiss that she and Hal had not yet given one another.
Chapter Three
As Kate dressed rapidly she heard the sound of a child running through the house.
She hurried through her last touches. She powdered her nose and looked around for the hat box. It was missing, so she put another dab of powder on her nose and said, ‘Blow! Now I’ll get scorched and look a fright.’
When she came out on to the veranda she found Annabel sitting at the breakfast table feeding a child in a high chair beside her.
‘Oh!’ said Kate. ‘Whose lovely baby?’
‘Mine,’ said Annabel. There was an awkward silence.
‘She is very lovely,’ Kate said. ‘She’ll have hair like yours, Annabel. Lots and lots of natural curl.’
Judity, a servant, came around the corner of the veranda. She held another little girl by the hand. A child of about four.
